Message-ID: <793eli$9705130029@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/793>
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 264 Bush League (nnd)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 264
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter Two
I was presented by Joanne and Sylvia. I had a big pink bow in my
hair. I looked utterly precious. My long blonde locks were drawn back in a
ponytail that bobbed when I walked. I wore long white stockings, the frail
kind that get runs in them almost from being touched. They were white, and
held aloft by frilly garter straps hooked to a garter belt. Pink little bows
decorated the fasteners. I wore new white patent leather pumps. Long white
gloves hugged my arms. They were tied off in little bows above my elbows,
but remained fingerless upon my hands, letting my fingers stick through as if
I wore no gloves at all. Otherwise, I was completely naked, save for my de
rigueur collar and cuffs.
I bowed my head. Perhaps in my submissiveness they would spare me.
My hands played over my bottom, apprehensive. I felt my cheeks tighten and
relax. They felt much better now. My weal was subsiding. Soon it would be
as if I'd never been hit on my behind. And yet, and yet, they wanted more.
More! I was just a schoolgirl. I felt a sudden yearning for home. It was
safe, if sexless.
I let my eyes lift up just a little. I looked at Louis to convince
myself I must stay here. Ah! He had not shaved all day. The stubble on his
face looked so manly. He was robust and tanned, wearing a suit and slacks.
I saw, tucked into his coat like a man's handkerchief, my panties. He'd
retrieved them again and had put them away for safekeeping. Rose and I would
not be frivolous with them anymore.
I let my gaze pass to Andre. He was as well-built as Louis, a tad
shorter, but with a cock that was wider, though not as long, like a sausage
made to order by a girl who stared at too many fireplugs. I used to like
watching male dogs pee against fire plugs. It was so bold, somehow, seeing a
dog simply lift his leg and pee while all the female dogs had to squat. When
you're eight, such things are interesting, I assure you.
Polly was not present, but Cheyenne was. She sat between Louis and
Andre. She regarded me with curious eyes, a little haughty (or was I just
jealous?), as if saying, 'you must perform today, my dear, my time is not yet
come for this.' Her breasts were bare. They hung ripely from her chest.
Her every movement made them jiggle a little. She tossed her head to get
her lovely brown hair back from her face. It fell in clouds round her head
and down over her shoulders. It seemed to always be sneaking back into her
eyes, making her toss her head again which, of course, made her breasts
jiggle anew. She wore her glistening long jade-like penis earrings that I'd
first seen on her at the cabana. She had fingerless gloves like me and long
stockings with a matching garter belt. But there the comparison ended, for
she was permitted panties. I'd asked for a new pair upstairs but been denied
by Joanne and Sylvia, though there were plenty lying in my dresser. I gazed
at Cheyenne's panties, with her cunny snug inside them, her bottom cupped by
them. They were simple drawstring panties, tied at the sides with white
bows, but for me they looked divine, for I had nothing at all to protect me.
Cheyenne had a small white purse in her hands, as if she were sitting in
church, waiting for the service to begin, or a wedding. Her lipstick was
moist and red. Her shoes were patent leather, like mine. She had her slim
ankles crossed demurely. But her thighs were sweetly parted. Simply by
glancing down, Louis or Andre could amuse himself with the sight of her cunny
offering itself softly within her panties. She had her hips shifted forward
on the sofa a little, despite the erectness of her back, to display her
little female pouch more distinctly.
We were in the sunroom. There would be little privacy here for
whatever they had planned for me. My punishment would be in the nature of a
public entertainment. The sun was sinking toward the horizon but it was
still plenty bright to illuminate my suffering. I wished it was night, pitch
black, as it had been before, when Branson visited Polly and Bambi punished
me.
There was a raised dias in the center of the room. I glanced at it
suspiciously. The furniture had been pushed aside to accommodate it. Twin
poles, looking like mayfair poles, with white bunting winding up them, stood
side by side on the dias. They were about six feet apart. Hanging down from
the top of each pole was a slim silver chain. It looked too thin and
delicate to hold anything. At the end was a clip. I looked down at my toes
and saw that the clip would fit quite neatly into my ankle cuffs, or my wrist
cuffs, if they were preferred.
My head turned to Rose. She had something planned, I could tell, no
matter how good I tried to appear. She was dressed in a very tight corset
that was laced up her front and back, in the center, which meant it had taken
at least a half hour to put it on, and needed the help of others to fit it,
for it was just two unattached shells until it was all tied together.
Despite the exactness and prolonged effort required to fit Rose into her
corset, nothing had been done to cover her breasts. The corset forced them
up a little, hefting them, making them more prominent than they usually were,
which meant they looked now like two overfilled blimps quivering at their
ports waiting for takeoff.
Dangling over her breasts, held in her hand like my panties had
been, was a small cat o' nine tails with knotted tips at the end. I gasped
when I saw them. Rose let them swing about a little, taunting me with them.
Moving closer to her, mesmerized, I saw that they were made of the softest
silk, tied at the tips of silk cords. Yet, applied with sufficient force,
they promised to make themselves felt most viciously, or so I imagined, for
I'd never felt such and didn't want to.
"Where's Polly?" I asked.
"She's been engaged in a game of hopscotch out on the front walk,"
Rose said. "I do have some consideration for her age. She's probably
drawing up all the squares and numbers right now, wearing nothing at all,
since she likes to swim that way, with the limo driver keeping watch over
her."
"Lurch?" I said. I'd named him myself, in my imagination, and Rose
simply nodded. No name seemed needed for him. One was as good as another.
He simply guided, served, always on call, always ready for duty.
"He said he wanted to see how girls play hopscotch, at least that's
what I told him to tell her. Polly, sweet dear, was happy to oblige, and
happier still when I gave her a set of colored chalk to draw on the sidewalk
with. She had always used chalk rocks before, I guess, having to find them
first before she could play."
"Step up on the dias," Sylvia urged me. There would be no more
conversation. All was in readiness. Polly could not be kept occupied
forever. As if to hurry things along Sylvia pushed me up onto the first step
of the dias. There were four more. Each was lined with felt, in case a
barefoot girl might have to mount the dias, I supposed, to give her as much
comfort as they could. Louis stood and walked over to me. He drew my twice
discarded panties from his pocket. They were slightly damp, as if someone
had washed them for me while I was taking my bath.
"Polly washed them, at the sink, in the kitchen," Louis said.
"She's the one who found them the second time. She was racing around the
castle trying to see how fast she could run while Lurch? is that his name?
timed her. I watched her while she washed them for you. She was quite jolly
doing it, wearing long yellow gloves to protect her hands and arms but with
nothing else on, of course. She delighted in seeing the small stains from
your bowels on your panties. I must say, watching her crow over your stains
and sing and wriggle her nude bottom about, I was pleasantly entertained.
Another good mark in your column that will mitigate your punishment."
"Thank you," I said. He responded by parting my lips with his
finger and stuffing my panties into my mouth. I resisted him at first. I
stuck my tongue against his protruding finger. We battled, much as if our
two tongues were jabbing at each other. His finger beat my tongue, of
course. I was forced to retreat. I accepted my panties with as much
equanimity as I could muster. They were mine, after all. I shouldn't have
thrown them out the window. Sylvia brought a soft canvas gag to my mouth and
fitted it between my teeth. To give the gag extra bulk, after it was tied
behind my head she drew both ends of my panties out around my gag and tied
them to the gag itself. This forced my tongue back very far, and I choked,
shaking my breasts. She stroked my slim throat and I at last accepted my new
condition. With a kind of sardonic glee Sylvia then offered me her hand and
encouraged me to mount the remaining steps of the dias. I put my hands
protectively to my hind cheeks and let her guide me up. She palmed my bare
belly, her other hand pressed to the small of my back, while I concentrated
on protecting my bottom.
The top of the dias was sheathed with a covering of white fur. It
was short, very soft. Sylvia guided me to the center of it, between the
poles. There I saw, on the floor of the dias, a bolster taken from one of
the couches. It was made of white vinyl, businesslike, but it had a silk
cloth draped over it, as if to catch spillings.
I was made to kneel. Sylvia kneed her way onto the platform, not
using the steps. I hoped to just crouch in my new heels next to the bolster
but she made me lie down with my bottom perched atop it. Joanne joined her
and stood over me. Sylvia drew my hands over my head and behind my neck and
affixed them to the back of my dog collar. Joanne, standing, lifted each of
my long legs and fastened them to the end of the short chain that dangled
down from the festive poles. I found myself spread-legged, my arms virtually
immobile. My graceful, slim legs were in a wide vee, showing off my bare
pussy as if I might be posing for Penthouse. My ass cheeks, partly
unsupported by the narrow bolster, hung mostly free, jiggling in their
nakedness and making me feel like I must be the Great Pumpkin, rising from
the pumpkin patch for Linus to see.
Joanne and Sylvia got off the dias, using the steps. When they had
departed Rose very sexily came up the little stairs, swaying her bottom,
which was naked, letting me see her thatch from below, and her long legs
which were sheathed in black fishnet stockings. Except for them, her corset,
and matching gloves, plus a bondage collar tightly circling her neck, and
earrings, she was naked. Of course she wore high heels, but nothing else,
and she carried the small silk whip.
"This is a special treat few girls receive, and never from a man,
for they don't know how to do it," Rose told me. With jolly eyes she dangled
the knotted tips of her whip right over my cunt! I was helpless, like a
spread turkey waiting to be stuffed. I wondered if Cheyenne would loan me
her panties but I couldn't ask, with the gag in my mouth.
WHICKCK! I heard, and I felt myself lurch. My smooth belly rippled
and my clamlike cunt smarted under the blow, my lips hungering to close, but
wrenched wide with my legs all tied up straight and tall to the mayfair
poles. My bare fanny bounced atop the bolster.
WHICKCKCK! Again the silken whip rained down on my cunny. I felt
the silken tips land smartly all round my spot. She would find it soon.
WHICKCK! Oh! She hit me! Right on my tenderest, most vulnerable
spot! I screamed into my gag but there was no mercy for me. She struck me
again, and was lucky again. I squeezed my eyes shut and begged her to stop.
For answer, she lifted her whip and stung my wobbling titties. Then,
feeling perhaps a little pity for me, she summoned Joanne and Sylvia.
"Come and lick her parts between my whippings," she told them. "It
will ease her pain a little. Nothing can be done to abate the strokes, but
perhaps immediate treatment will help her bear them."
"Yes, we'll make them better," Joanne offered. Her voice was
sincere. But I think Sylvia had more wicked intentions. She simply wanted
to tongue me and make me feel her lust. She truly enjoyed seeing me suffer.
Joanne, I think, would have stopped it at once if she'd been in charge.
Rose halted a moment and let Joanne and Sylvia, clad in their
'offering dresses,' as I thought of them, offering their bottoms and tits and
cunnies to all who cared to see, knelt down beside me. Greedily Sylvia took
possession of my wounded cunny with her mouth. Joanne tended to my nipples.
I felt my breasts roll around beneath the probing of Joanne's tongue.
Sylvia intruded her tongue penis-like into my slit.
"Oh, how delicate these stockings are," Rose said to me, stroking my
thighs. "You shouldn't have worn these, dear. I'll have to be extra careful
not to hit them with my whip. I'd hate to put runs in them."
"Ruin them," a male voice declared. Louis. My captor. "I'm
enjoying this. Don't spare her."
VIDEO REVIEWS
by holy joe
Playboy's Voluptuous Vixens, $19.95. VHS, Color, 60 minutes. Playboy
Entertainment Group, Inc. Item No: PBV 0820. Phone: 1-800-423-9494.
Review: Apparently some people think I'm a sick, perverted dweeb
who sits in his dumpster all day, yanking on his wiener.
Allow me to clear up this misunderstanding.
Every morning I get up at 6 a.m. I jog five miles. Then, it's off
to Gold's Gym. There, I compete with the other guys to see who can lift the
most weight. Usually I win.
As a power weightlifter, I have to take steroids. These keep me
stupid. If I weren't stupid I'd get bored lifting dumbbells all day. So the
steroids are a necessity. They have the added advantage of adding muscle to
my chest and arms, plus my dick (which is a muscle) and my balls.
You have probably heard that steroids make a guy sexually impotent.
This, like the perception that I'm a dweeb, is incorrect. Let me explain.
Big guys who lift weights a lot, and are stupid, and take steroids,
make a lot of sperm. Sure, we have girlfriends, but usually they're in
college, or elementary school, or at work, during the day. If we let our
sperm build up all day, as we're building our muscles, we'd become a threat
to public safety. Before the sun went down or (in my case) before 2 p.m.,
we'd be out raping and pillaging and causing trouble. So we have to jack
off, each and every day, to keep ourselves out of jail.
Here's what happens. About noon, when we are all hot and sweaty
from lifting weights, we go into the locker room. There we have a portable
T.V. Usually one of us has brought a video. This, in fact, is how I get to
watch so many videos, jacking off with the guys at Gold's Gym.
Sometimes the video is shitty. This is bad news since, in our
cases, we'll probably get arrested if we don't get some relief. On these
days the guys ask me to think up a sex story. I do my best.
That's how I wind up with so many sex stories. And that's why I put
them up on the Internet too, to help other WEIGHTLIFTERS. This zine has
nothing to do with dweebs, nerds, or other perverts like that. It is
strictly a zine for my fellow power weightlifters. Obviously I can't control
who reads it, but I just wanted you to know who the intended audience is.
Big guys, like me, who need help getting through the day so they don't wind
up in trouble with the Law.
Now, about this video. It is a total waste. There is nothing good
in it at all, except a very brief bathtub scene featuring Playmate Jami
Ferrell. (I hope I got her name right. As a weightlifter, I'm swamped with
real girls. I don't have time to double check the names of pinup girls in
magazines.)
Also in this video is Shae Marks. She is a natural blonde but, for
some reason, she decided to dye her hair black for this video. Now, this
really explains the bimbo mentality. What video would be more about blondes
than this one? It has girls in it. They have big boobs. The video itself
is titled "Voluptuous Vixens." There is a blonde on the front of the video
box. Nothing could say "b-l-o-n-d-e" more than this video. So, naturally,
Shae Marks shows up with her hair dyed black.
They used her anyway. That's one of the reasons I bought this
video, in fact, to see Shae. Unfortunately, she's done more than just dye
her hair black. She's also gotten a boob job.
Shae is one of those lovely schoolgirl-type girls who has wonderful
big boobs. She did not need a boob job. Why she got one, I have no idea.
Now, instead of having lovely, large, natural bosoms, she has big
cartoon-like boobs. And there's yet another problem with Shae.
She looks old. At one time, Shae looked so young you would have
sworn you were looking at an illegal video. I still remember, quite fondly,
her early videos, such as Wet & Wild VI, 'The Locker Room.' There she
starred in a wet, bondage type scene. You would have thought you were
looking at a 15-year-old, or a 13-year-old, as she strutted about in her
bondage gear and spilled water on herself. Now, however, Shae has lines on
her neck. She has lines on her face. She looks like an ordinary adult
woman. She still has sparkling eyes, and a good body, but the 'naughty
schoolgirl' image is gone forever.
So, anyway, me and the guys at Gold's Gym didn't find any
satisfaction with this video. One guy, who's new, did manage to shoot off
over Jami Ferrell in the bathtub, but the rest of us were left hard and
unfulfilled.
If you're a power weightlifter like me, don't buy this video.
You'll just be wasting the time of the other guys at Gold's Gym if you bring
in this video for them to see.
Oh, yeah. 2 p.m. is when my three girlfriends, who teach elementary
school, get off of work. Just thought I'd clear that up.
AND IN THE END...
AMERICA: LAND OF LIBERTY
"A Remote Sensing Device emits a beam of infrared light across the
road at the same level as the tailpipe of a passing vehicle. A detector
picks up the beam on the other side of the road, analyzes the exhaust
emissions by computer, and a high-speed camera takes a picture of the
vehicle's license plate."
- Motorland/CSAA, November/December 1996, pg. 26.
-------------------------- 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 264 EMISSION
--
+--------------' 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> /