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From: Andrew Roller <roller66@inreach.com>
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Subject: FUCK DECENCY 269 Bush League (nnd) g2
“I would sing of boys
Loved by the gods, and girls inflamed by love
To things forbidden, and earned punishment.”
- Ovid
(damn pervert! we’ll kick him off AOL too!)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 269
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter Three
Not content with bolting us down to the logs, or tying our
hands, the men next fixed spreader bars to our ankle straps. They used
these poles between our legs to keep them wide apart. I had one between
my legs, a good three-footer, spreading my legs right up to my hiney,
and Cheyenne had one, and Polly, who was now blubbering, got one also.
“Pee right where you are if you have to, I don’t care,” Louis
told Polly.
“Okay, I WILL then!” Polly declared, though her tears.
“Well?” Louis asked. The girl’s bottom shivered but she
delivered no pee.
“Now I don’t have to,” Polly gulped.
“You never did,” Louis replied. “Extra strokes for you my dear
Polly, for being a liar!”
“It was just a likkle fib,” Polly pleaded. Tears rolled anew
down her wet cheeks.
“Bye, I love you,” Cheyenne said. She was closest to me and
she turned her head to me.
“Bye bye,” I replied, shivering, for I knew we were just
seconds away from our torment. The men hefted their whips behind us and
swung them into the wind and commented on the possibilities of their
uses. Meanwhile, not to limit their enjoyment in any way, they stripped
off their clothes and stood buck naked behind us, enjoying the sun on
their cocks, their balls. They were fully erect and promised to ream
Polly and Cheyenne and I most astutely once they’d finished punishing
us.
Louis bent over me and kissed me. I felt his dangling cock
bounce off my heinie.
“I love you,” he whispered to me. “And I love your bottom.
That’s why I’m going to whip it.” His finger was under my chin and I
lowered my mouth quickly and caught it between my lips. I sucked hard,
but I did not bite him, I did not bite.
Andre gave Polly her goodbye kiss. And then they both kissed
Cheyenne, making me feel just a tad jealous, despite my fears.
Louis got behind me and caressed my bare fanny. His cock
bobbed just behind its spheres, tempted, but wishing to see me punished
by the whip first. After he’d touched me with his hand he picked up the
implement he’d chosen to start off with, a soft leather whip with thin
cords. Deceptively he brushed it over my ass, touching me with it in
soft warm caressing movements, as if it were a sponge instead of a
whip. Then, abruptly, he stood. Andre, who’d been playing with Polly’s
ass, stood also.
“We’ll share Cheyenne,” Louis told Andre.
“Sounds fine with me,” Andre said.
“Let’s see which of us can make them cry the most,” Louis
suggested.
“They’re already crying,” Andre replied. And we were, though I
at least tried my best not to. I knew it would hurt and we would not be
spared.
When we rode through the Indian village at dusk they turned out
to watch our jeep pass. Louis drove slowly, as a hunter might, showing
off his catch. Polly, Cheyenne and I could not sit. We were bound over
the back seat, our asses high, still frigging ourselves to try to
assuage away the pain that they’d inflicted, Louis and Andre, high up in
the mountain crags, amidst the daisies. We were red-faced, sobbing.
Our tits swung with every movement of the jeep’s rolling wheels. Polly
gasped anew as a fresh orgasm seized her. It was our only hope of
relief. Our bottoms, sore and ruthlessly cloven by our boyfriend’s
pricks, red as the sunset, offered us no respite. Only our fingers
could, working constantly at our slits. We’d been fucked anally, not in
our pussies, perhaps purposely, so we’d still be playing with ourselves
when the jeep drove down from the mountain. I knew we were making a
spectacle of ourselves. I heard an Indian woman laugh. Young children
giggled. They knew we were being naughty. They did not know of whips
or penises but they knew girls must not rub themselves. Even the
littlest girls knew that. Yet here we were, big girls by comparison,
and we were frigging ourselves, and they could see by our bottoms that
we’d paid for our naughtiness. What they did not know was that we had
not frigged ourselves and then been punished for it. We’d been
punished, despite our goodness, erotically punished, and we’d had to
frig ourselves as our only hope of taking our minds off our bottoms.
Rose received us back at the castle with hugs and kisses. We
were bathed and put to bed, all in my room, so we could console each
other. The men had not bothered to put salve on our bottoms but Rose
did, after our bath.
“Stop playing with yourselves, girls. It’s over,” Rose told us
before turning out our light. Then she clicked it off, shut the door,
and we cried ourselves to sleep. Downstairs, Louis and Andre smoked
cigars and regaled Rose with our torments. I heard her tinkling
laughter through the open window, Louis’s gruff descriptions. I could
not hear his precise words but there was no question he and Andre were
telling her about their day.
In my dreams, after I’d fallen asleep, I saw Rose make love to
Louis and Andre, and I know my dreams were true.
“Such bad little girls!” Rose scolded, waking us at first
light. I was hungry. I’d not eaten all the previous day, and had quite
forgotten about it, after my spanking up in the mountains. She served
us breakfast in bed. We ate like spoilt children, the three of us all
in a row. Our covers were pulled up to just below our breasts, letting
our nipples show quite naughtily, but we revelled in the naughtiness,
not caring, and Rose did not mind either. She left her own breasts bare
so that we would feel more comfortable in her presence. We were all
females. We ate with our fingers and she helped us drink our cocoa,
lifting our heads for us so that we would not spill it on ourselves.
As I sipped my cocoa, feeling so special and cared for, I felt
my bottom against the smooth white sheet. Just the pressing of the
sheet against it made me wince a little. I heard Polly whimper as she
shifted within the bed to better accept her cocoa. And Cheyenne, our
newest friend, mewled out a sulky little whine.
“My, such pampered little girls,” Rose chided. She wiped my
chin with a napkin. I’d let a little of the cocoa escape my lips. “You
receive a nice punishment and all you can think to do it whine about
it.” Polly, despite her bottom, eagerly opened her mouth and vied, like
a little kitten, for a sip from my cup. Rose gave her a taste and Polly
greedily drank down the rest of my portion.
We were not harmed. No, just reminded every moment of how our
bottoms had been treated. Whipped, with all manner of implements, all
of them carried aloft into the mountains by poor Polly, the littlest of
us.
As unnecessary and unpleasant as our whipping had been, the
ride home had been even worse. Sitting was, of course, out of the
question. Even we knew that. So the men had simply dumped us over the
back seat of their jeep and strapped us down to it. Fortunately,
perhaps to show they were not utter brutes, one of them went to the
trouble of uncovering a coil of soft rope. He’d rummaged around in the
jeep until he’d found it. I didn’t see who. I was too busy crying.
Our upper thighs had rested against the seat back, not our
hips. This was to permit our hands to freely frig ourselves. It was a
necessity. I don’t think I could have borne the ride back if it weren’t
for my busy fingers. Even hiking down the mountain, forced to carry the
very packs that had precipitated our distress, we had to play with
ourselves. All three of us, myself, Cheyenne, and Polly, had traipsed
down the mountainside with at least one hand busily fondling our slit.
Meanwhile, the men followed, leering at our bottoms. Their loins were
utterly satisfied. They had pried their way into our clenching
bottomholes with their ‘meat-packer pricks,’ as they called them, and it
was hardly a wrong name for them for I felt more stuffed than a
Christmas turkey when Louis, who had to work at me for quite some time,
finally got his awful Thing up me. I could not relax with the severity
of the strapping he’d given me. He’d had to fight his way into my
nether hole, while I screamed and kept gyrating my bottom and clenching
and squeezing it, trying to throw off the scalding burns from the
strap.
The air, passing over our upraised tushies on the ride back
down, had proven a welcome relief. I remember wiggling my ass at the
sun, not caring if it tanned me, hoping to somehow cool down my bottom
in the wind.
The men deposited our backpacks in the small bed at the back of
the jeep. My chin bounced on my backpack as they drove us home. To the
castle. It was our home now.
“It hoits!” Polly had sobbed to me as the sun set.
“Keep rubbing!” I’d shouted back to her between my own sobs. A
moment later she’d crooned into orgasm. The wind blew through our hair,
streaming it out beyond our faces. Our backs flexed as we worked
ourselves into orgasm after orgasm. We were very wet girls by the time
we got back to the castle.
“There. Breakfast’s all done,” Rose announced a little later.
She laid down her knife and fork. We’d all eaten from the same
silverware. It was easier that way. Polly smacked her lips.
“Mmmm! I liked my eggs,” she declared.
“Let’s just hope the eggs in your womb don’t like all the sperm
that’s been pumped into you,” Rose replied. “I haven’t been keeping up
on your pills like I should have.”
“It’s okay. I was fucked up the butt yesterday,” Polly
replied. She spoke quite frankly, as if telling teacher she’d caught a
frog in her palm, or memorized her multiplication tables.
“And how was it, darling?” Rose asked, caressing Polly’s face.
The girl looked down. Her eyes gazed at her nipples. I watched as the
tips hardened.
“It was...bigggg,” Polly answered.
“Andre fucked you?” Rose asked.
“Mmm hmm,” Polly nodded. She bobbed her chin. “He was weally
big but I just kept bearing down, like he told me, opening my
bottomcheeks as much as I could. Except, it was hard to breathe ‘cause
his penis actually pushed the air right out of me!” Polly exclaimed.
“It always feels that way when a man fucks you, up the bottom I
mean,” Rose said. She stroked Polly’s blonde hair. She lifted a strand
to get it out of Polly’s eyes. “You’ll get used to it, darling. And as
for you, Fleury,” she said. Her eyes met mine even as she continued
playing with Polly’s hair. “Louis wants you put into a butt-harness.
You know, the little item I told you about earlier. You’ll wear it all
day from now on at the castle. He insists he wants you more
accessible.”
I bit my lip. I did not want to be... altered. Rose knew my
apprehension and, as if to console me, she slid a finger into my mouth.
I bit down on it. I sucked it and looked up at her with wide eyes.
“Some men wish to have their girls made more receptive, using
such a device,” she explained simply. I was aware of Cheyenne, next to
me, swallowing. Her throat was dry. Our cups were empty. She was
swallowing fear. Polly said nothing. She listened, watching the tips
of her nipples. She knew no such device was intended for her. Andre
liked her just as she was.
We bathed and tidied up in the bathroom. Then Rose took us
downstairs to show our bottoms to the men.
Trooping into the parlor, I was amazed to see we were not
alone. Rose had preceded us by a few minutes. She sat interviewing a
young mother and her husband. With them were their two daughters. They
were moppets, kindergarten-age, squirming in their seats and oblivious
to what their mother and father were discussing.
“I’ll want daycare for the children,” I heard the mother’s
voice say. She turned and saw us. Polly, myself, and Cheyenne were
utterly nude. Louis and Andre were seated on the sofa in their tuxes
and we marched up to them and turned around.
“Oooh, they’re naked!” one of the woman’s moppets exclaimed.
“They’ve been bad, girls,” their father told them. Their
mother would have shushed them, I think, but her face was ashen and she
was sitting very stiffly beside her husband.
“We have nursery facilities on the premises,” Rose said to the
young mother. She was writing on a pad. “So you’ve not had enjoyable
sex since the birth of the twins?”
“No,” the father of the moppets answered.
“It happens sometimes. A female gets pregnant, becomes a
mother, and then feels the pressure of her new babies. I’m sure it was
especially true in your case, with twins. But there’s no reason you
can’t both resume an active sex life. Sometimes the woman just needs to
be reawakened. We have all the necessary things for that here. As you
can see, we help young girls get in touch with their bodies all the time
here.”
“Yes,” the young mother answered. The father looked at us with
an interested eye.
I felt Louis palm my bottom. It didn’t hurt too much, except
his hand was calloused and their roughness made me flinch.
“Oh! You spanked me too HARD yesterday,” Polly told her
boyfriend Andre. Louis laughed. Cheyenne stood between us, waiting her
turn, just as she’d had to wait for her turn yesterday upon the
mountain. At least today the hands passing over us were consoling ones.
“Bend down,” Louis told me. I leaned forward and reached down
and grasped my ankles. He pried apart my nether cheeks and examined my
hole.
“I told her we’d begin widening it today,” Rose said to Louis.
“Good,” he answered. He pressed the pad of his pointing finger
against my hineyhole.
“I don’t want mine made bigger!” Polly said, as Andre made her
bend over, and Cheyenne too.
“Another year and we’ll do it, maybe,” Andre mused. “Or
perhaps I’ll have you branded back here. Don’t squeeze your cheeks so.
I’m trying to see into your hole.”
“I know! That’s why I’m trying to squeeze it shut!” Polly
blurted, but the prying of Andre’s fingers finally won out and he
treated himself to a close examination of her. Polly wiggled, rocking
to and fro on her heels, an impatient child waiting to be let up. Her
breasts swung freely under her chest. I wondered if we’d been ruined at
all by our ride back home in the jeep. Our tits had swung like fruit in
a windstorm, jounced and jostled by the jeep. We’d been without bras,
of course. We’d not brought any. We’d ridden unprotected, despite the
best efforts of our mothers to keep us in training bras from the minute
our breasts had started growing. I looked at mine. They seemed okay.
Louis reached out and passed his hand over my dangling nipples. He
liked them, anyway. He plumped my breasts in his palms and for a moment
I thought he would rise up and unzip himself and take me right there, in
front of the two little girls.
Perhaps he might have, but Rose uttered his name and his hands
slipped away from my tits and he slapped my flank to make me stand up
again.
“You do not mind if your wife is fucked by others?” Rose asked
the husband of the young mother matter-of-factly.
“No,” he answered. His eyes were on us. Three underage girls
with our tits wobbling and our bottoms quite well-spanked. The twin
little girls giggled. One of them lifted her dress and began playing
with herself.
“Don’t,” their mother said. She slapped away the girl’s hand.
But the little one went right back to frigging herself, and her sister
soon followed.
“No harm will come to my daughters?” the wife asked.
“They will be returned to you as virginal as they are now,”
Rose smiled. “Girls,” she said, addressing them. “The reason the big
girls across the room got spanked is because they played with themselves
like you’re doing now.”
“Ooooh! I don’t want a spanking!” the one who had started the
game of frigging announced. She withdrew her hand from her panties.
Her sister copied her, pulling her hand up quickly and abruptly.
“That’s better, girls,” Rose told them. Their father nodded at
them approvingly.
Never mind the Redeemer...
I KNOW THAT MY FTP SITE LIVETH !
Many of my former America Online ftp site stories have now been
posted to the newsgroup alt.sex.stories
Quite a few of these stories have never been seen before on
alt.sex.stories
The list begins with Love Child, and ends with A Mansion for
Masochists. When complete, the last story will be Chambers of Love.
Please note that Chambers of Love should actually be read before Love
Child, as it was written first.
Some of the posts are quite long, 70 pages or more. They could
take a while to open. All of the posts should be virus free.
During this time period all of my stories may be reposted
throughout the Internet, so feel free to put them on your BBS if you
wish, or your ftp site, or your web site, or your non-profit-oriented CD
ROMS. It is okay to print my stories in non-profit-oriented zines as
well. (This is gratuitous on my part, and may be withdrawn at my option
at any time.)
AND IN THE END...
“His mischief and his laid-back irony were unwelcome in that
earnest age. Victorian sensibilities were affronted by the themes of
his stories: rape, murder, incest, sex changes, torture, cannibalism.
No wonder Shakespeare liked him.”
- The Economist (on Ovid), May 10, 1997, pg. 84.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-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 269 EMISSION
- Ovid: Metamorphoses, Book 10, lines 152-154.
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