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From: Andrew Roller <roller66@inreach.com>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 273 Bush League (nnd) g2
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WERE YOU THERE
When they Crucified my Lord?
Jesus hung upon the cross, gazing down at the people. Hundreds
of people were looking up at him.
“I hang here for a couple of hours, and then I get revered as a
God for 2,000 years,” Jesus mused to himself. “What a great deal.” He
watched as his eleven disciples plied the crowd for offerings. “Yes,
what a racket this is,” Jesus said to himself. “Hmmm, I don’t want to
look too comfortable up here. Sure, I am the Son of God, but I’ve got
to look sort of like they would, if they were hanging up here.” Jesus
paused, thought to himself. “Hmmm, let’s see. I have plenty of Divine
Air Conditioning, hanging up here, but they wouldn’t, if they were
hanging up here. I guess they’d be pretty hot, hanging up here in the
sun.”
So Jesus cried out, “God, I’m thirsty.” And they gave him some
vinegar to drink.
(For a God, this tasted like the sweetest wine.)
“Yum,” Jesus said. “That was tasty. But I guess it wasn’t too
moral, having a free drink like that.” And so Jesus rolled back time,
several minutes, and showed himself to the people refusing the vinegar,
though he was, at the same time, enjoying it in his belly (as wine).
“I have to go to the bathroom!” Jesus yelled next, though his
faithful disciples omitted that phrase, when writing down the last words
of Christ.
“God, I could use a visit to a whorehouse right now!” Jesus
cried from upon the cross. (But again his disciples chose to edit the
words.)
“I want my MTV!” Jesus yelled. Then, thinking to himself, he
remarked, “Ooops! Wrong century. Hmmm. Wrong millennium, too.”
(His disciples had no idea what he was talking about, and
omitted the phrase.)
Jesus hung from the cross. The sun beat down. A bird flew
by. It saw that Jesus wasn’t making too much use of his crown of
thorns. But the crown was round in shape, and nice and high in the
air. So the bird landed in it. He decided to use it for a nest.
“Get out of my head, you fucking bird!” Jesus yelled. Though
his hands were nailed to the cross, he could still move his fingers. So
he gave the bird to the bird, raising up his middle finger.
The bird flitted away. But, seeing Jesus was rather immobile,
he made a quick pass over Jesus’ head, and pooped on it.
This really pissed Jesus off. “I’ve had it, hanging up here,”
Jesus groused. “Sure, I’ll get 2,000 years worth of offerings for doing
it, but Dad doesn’t need the money.” And so Jesus died, at least to
mortal eyes. And on his way out, he split the curtain in the temple in
two, shook the earth, and terrorized the people with lightning.
“FUCK YOU!” Jesus yelled to the dumb fucks still standing
around his cross. But the thunder was loud, and it drowned out his
curse.
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 273
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter Four
“My, you two are eager beavers this morning!” Rose complimented
the boys. “I’d have thought Brent’s wife would have drained you both.”
“We gave her our all... or so we thought,” Louis mused. He
glanced down at his own cock, as surprised as the rest of us were that
it could rise again so quickly. We were all deliciously naked, except
for the manacles Cheyenne and Polly and I wore every day around our
ankles and wrists and throats. Rose had on a little robe that did
nothing to hide her charms. It was belted round her waist, but had been
pulled open to show her breasts and was so short it barely covered her
bottom, while in front it wafted open to let us all see her pubis. In
any event it was nearly transparent, despite being adorned with
transparent lace flowers, so that anything the robe hid was, in fact,
not hidden at all, despite being covered. Andre and Louis were naked
from their toes to the tips of their heads (and their newly risen
cocks). Nonetheless Rose passed them a comb and made them comb their
hair so they’d look presentable for our little party.
Kelly entered. She was wearing silk stockings with slight runs
in them. Her maid’s hat was on, as well as her garter belt, which held
up her elastic-free stockings. Otherwise she was nude, except for
splotches of mustard someone had squirted on her. In her hand she held
a bottle of French’s mustard.
“Sorry! I couldn’t get it away from the kids!” Kelly sighed.
She was fresh from the nursery, I guessed, the children’s nursery in
which Brent’s two daughters and Johnnie were being kept entertained. A
shiver went down my spine. If Kelly wasn’t in the nursery, who was?
And I knew in an instant, despite trying to keep the thought out. Brent
was there. And his wife, having had her brains fucked out by Louis and
Andre, was, as one might say, ‘indisposed.’ She might even still be
tied down in a bedroom somewhere, allowed to sleep after her raping.
Kelly also carried a bag with her. In it were party things.
Rose opened it, passed out hats. She gave me one. It was a little
cone-shaped party hat and I put it on my head, tucking the string
chin-strap under my chin. I looked silly in it. I could not put one on
Cheyenne because of the post in her mouth, but I tried anyway. Louis
and Andre donned hats, as did Polly and Rose. Kelly left to fetch us
some treats.
“Keep an eye on the nursery too, if you can!” I called after
her. Rose scolded me.
“It is none of your affair, dear. Don’t be prudish,” she
said. She handed me the bottle of mustard. “Squirt it onto the lash.
It will make it sting more.” I took the mustard with tentative hands.
Cheyenne mewled again.
“No, it isn’t Grey Poupon,” I told her. “Sorry.” It was
French’s mustard.
“I call it Grey Poop!” Polly volunteered. “I don’t like that
brand!”
“Try to be a little grown up, Polly,” Rose admonished. She
straightened the girl’s party hat. Polly picked up a party favor and
blew on it. She seemed startled when the curled-up end of it shot out.
Then, after enjoying this new toy a few times, she decided to attack
Louis and Andre’s erections with it. They laughed as Polly bent down
and fired her party favor at them, hitting their cocks with its
unfurling tail.
Meanwhile, I took my snakeskin lash and squirted French’s
mustard all over it. Cheyenne seemed mesmerized. She was the center of
attention of all of us, or soon would be. Rose told Polly to behave
herself or she’d find herself joining Cheyenne. Kelly returned, perhaps
having found a tray downstairs already prepared by Maria. She offered
us wafers with cheese, bits of meat, celery dip and sprigs of oregano.
Rose said the dip had an ancient aphrodisiac laced into it to make us
more, as she put it, “active.” I was concentrating on preparing my lash
with the mustard but she offered me a wafer and made me eat it out of
her hand. I felt my nipples perk up a little as I swallowed it. Polly
munched down several wafers, saying she was hungry. A minute later she
dropped to her knees and eagerly began playing with both Louis and
Andre’s cocks. It was amazing to see her, a little girl down on her
knees, wearing a party hat, fondling Louis and Andre’s organs as if they
were sausages that needed skinning. The men, amused, each let her play
with their manhood. Rose warned Polly not to make them cum.
“You’d better begin, darling, we haven’t forever,” Rose told
me. I lifted my snakeskin lash and twirled it about. It looked
deadly. I bent and kissed Cheyenne’s bottom cheeks to remind her that I
loved her. We were just playing. I wanted to see her squirm a little.
And, if I could manage it, this would count as her official penal
whipping that would make her a proper young lady at the castle.
I dangled the tail of the whip into the cleft of Cheyenne’s
ass. I let her feel the pointed tail drawing up and down between her
tensing cheeks.
“You are too long about it,” Rose told me. She put her knee on
my bed, took the whip from me, lifted it, and summarily brought it down
on Cheyenne’s ass with a loud SNAP! Cheyenne screamed, drew her cheeks
in as it hit, then bucked her bottom outward to try to get rid of the
pain.
WHACK! THWACK! Rose rewarded the girl with two more cracks of
the whip, each just as awful as the first.
“My, what nice lines you deliver,” I heard over my shoulder.
It was Bambi, nude as we were, with a party hat on. I gulped. Just
seeing her made me afraid. Rose returned the snakeskin lash to me.
“Show Bambi what a good whipmistress you are,” Rose told me. I
swallowed again and accepted the lash. I looked at Cheyenne’s bottom.
There was no sense in sparing it now. Three angry red lines
crisscrossed its creamy white surface. Her cheeks, so lovely, looked
like some mean animal had lashed out at their satin beauty. With
trembling hands I lifted the lash, holding it with both my hands, as if
to reassure myself that I wouldn’t drop it, and I brought it down upon
Cheyenne’s hiney.
“Yeoooch!” Cheyenne screamed a gag-muddled scream. I looked
and saw I had barely left a mark.
“Just one hand, use the wrist to inflict the blow,” Rose told
me. She reached out and took one of my hands, making it hold the lash
all by itself. Then she drew my arm back and together we brought the
lash down on Cheyenne.
WHAHACK! The lash scored a double hit. It struck Cheyenne’s
left cheek and then rippled across to her right. The girl howled and
shook her bottom as if she were being paid to. The men laughed.
“This is better than a strip bar!” Andre crowed. Polly had
taken to sucking his cock. She was bobbing her head furiously up and
down his shaft, deeper than she might ever had attempted, but for the
naughty crackers. Andre absently stroked her hair, happy for the
attention, but more intrigued by the punishment of Cheyenne’s adorable
bottom. With her other hand, Polly kept Louis erect and aware. I saw
he was dripping pre-cum and prayed she didn’t bring him off in her
cracker-induced ardor. She was just a child, given to impulses. I
hoped Rose kept an eye on her. Louis gazed at me, enjoying the
movements of my figure, the bouncing of my breasts against my chest, the
allure of my bottom. He seemed oblivious to the fact that little Polly
was playing with his penis although, no doubt, at some level he must
have felt it, for his balls were drawn up tightly and his peehole
glimmered with the liquid jewels of his pre-sperm.
“Make her really buck and move!” Louis urged me. He had his
hands on his hips, as if he were some prison warden, giving orders to an
underling. I nodded, politely. I put my hand to my throat, steadied my
hand, and lifted it, unassisted this time by Rose.
“Remember to use your wrist,” Rose reminded me.
Cheyenne, watching from a mirror, drew in her aching cheeks and
held them as if against a mighty storm. And then I let her have it.
WHACKCK! I managed a double-strike. It was harsh. Cheyenne
screeched into her ball-shaped gag and let her bottom cheeks bound and
waggle and dance like any common slut on a dance stage. I smiled at her
lack of composure. This was fun! How embarrassed she must feel. I
drew back my lash and hit her again.
“Now wipe off the mustard and use a new implement,” Rose told
me. She handed me a rag but moistened it with a bottle of alcohol. I
grinned and took the rag she offered me. I rubbed it over Cheyenne’s
ass cheeks. The girl hollared as she felt the stinging alcohol rubbed
over her wounded bottom.
“You’re getting the hang of it,” Bambi told me. She knelt on
the bed beside me and made me shiver as she palmed my bottom. Did she
have plans for me? I looked at Rose. I wanted to tell Bambi to go away
but Rose seemed to enjoy having her. Bambi slapped my bottom and told
me to pick the martinet. “That will really make her regret showing off
her ass in public!” Bambi crowed.
I turned and kissed Bambi on the mouth, still holding my
alcohol wipe, still tending to Cheyenne’s bottom with it. I knew I
shouldn’t encourage her, but I couldn’t help it. Something about her
intrigued me, especially with Louis and Andre watching. “You are
utterly, utterly wicked,” I told Bambi. She accepted my kiss and delved
a finger into my bottom hole. At the same time she rubbed herself,
juicing her slit.
“Show me what a good whipmistress you are,” Bambi smiled.
“Play with me while I do it,” I answered.
“Okay,” she said, and began frigging my slit for me, from
behind, bending down so she could really get at me. I knelt with my
legs wider apart on the sheets. Cheyenne would really feel some
punishment now. I couldn’t help it. I was hot and bothered now, and I
needed something to distract me.
I lay aside the alcohol wipe and selected the martinet from the
bag. It had been boiled in starch to make it stiff. I raised it,
watched as Cheyenne’s appealing bottom waved in front of me to attempt
to avoid the blow. Her ankles were not tied. She might have kicked
back at me at any time but, so far, had contented herself with
stretching her calves upward, or stamping her feet upon the bed. She
was well-controlled, despite her pain-rent contortions. She was a good
girl. I would not be too harsh with her, I decided. I brought the
martinet down firmly, ‘judiciously,’ one might say, given that this was
to be a judicial whipping. Cheyenne groaned and kicked out, sideways,
thankfully, while I watched her antics, Bambi all the while intrusively
massaging my slit. She palmed by bottom, as if preparing it for a
whipping of its own. I lofted my martinet and hit Cheyenne’s ass
again. She howled, shook her breasts, her bottom.
“No more! No more!” I heard her cry, looking at me wide-eyed
in the mirror.
“You’re doing very well, Cheyenne,” was all I said in reply.
To console her, but in a sadistic way, I passed the alcohol wipe over
her ass. She screeched into her gag and stamped her pretty feet on the
bedsheets. She was rumpling my bed quite badly. And I had thought her
so good. I gave her another blow from the martinet. She cried out,
began crying.
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Bambi said from behind me, and
slapped my bottom again as if to remind me of her own intentions. Well,
I’d cross that bridge when it came to me.
I took up a thin little whip next. I wiped it through the
alcohol rag to make sure it would be as insidiously painful as I could
make it. Cheyenne was beside herself now, bawling over the bulging
ball-shaped gag, which kept her jaws wide apart, letting her tears flow
freely. Polly had looked up from her sucklings of Louis and Andre to
watch. She had a look of concern on her face that preschool children
show when they see another child who’s hurt. Rose patted her head and
told her to go back to enjoying Louis and Andre.
I saw Kelly appear with a teapot. She poured Rose a cup of hot
tea. Glancing at me, Rose took the cup, drank from it, and held the
fluid in her mouth. Then she knelt before Louis, drew Polly’s hand off
him, and put her mouth over Louis’s cockhead.
“Yeeeowww!” Louis groaned. He had not seen her coming, he was
so entranced with me, and my whipping of Cheyenne’s bottom. Rose held
Louis’s penis delicately within her mouth, keeping his shaft still with
gentle fingers upon it, her sharp nails careful not to scratch him. She
made him feel the full effect of the hot tea on his penis head. Then,
spluttering at last from the hilarity of it, she lost her mouthful of
tea, spilling it on the carpet, and set to sucking Louis’s prick gently
to make him feel better. Eagerly Louis thrust his penis into her mouth
to assuage the sting from the hot tea. Kelly, though, feeling playful,
or perhaps on instructions from Rose, given beforehand, took her teapot
and maliciously poured hot tea onto Louis’s ass.
“Yeeeeoowowoch!” Louis cried. His ass shot forward to avoid
the tea, burrowing himself even deeper into Rose’s mouth. Kelly
laughed. She did not desist, but playfully aimed the teapot at Louis’s
ass again and poured once more. He groaned and urged his hips forward.
Kelly made him take yet more, pouring the tea inbetween the cheeks of
his ass. Then she went to Andre and gave him the same treatment. Polly
sucked his cock so it, at least, would feel better. And she got the
full force of his erection as he attempted to arch his bottom out of the
way of Kelly’s tea. Neither man, however, did more than thrust himself
forward. To change the position of his feet, to run away, would have
been unmanly. Each stood his ground and did his best to withstand
Kelly’s burning tea. It was not so hot that it could scald him. She
had made sure of that. It was just hot enough to add to the fun of our
party.
I gave Cheyenne a goodly number of strokes with the little
whip. Bambi kept at my own ass, exploring my cleft, my hole, tickling
my cunny also, to keep me excited.
At last I picked up the riding crop. It was a short,
no-nonsense crop. I pressed it to Cheyenne’s bottom, marking out the
place I intended to hit with it. She cried profusely, watching me
through her tears in the mirror, knowing that I would put a welt right
where I’d impressed the crop into her skin, if my aim were true. I drew
back my hand.
“Here’s your welt, Cheyenne,” I told her. Then I hit her as
hard as I could, right where I’d meant to. Cheyenne hollared over the
bulging gag in her mouth. She let an outburst of tears blubber forth.
In back her bottom strove and bucked and squeezed. She kicked back at
me, striking my boobies with her heel. In answer, quite promptly, I hit
her again with the crop, awarding her a second weal for her gross
misbehavior. Cheyenne screeched and stamped her feet on the bed, but
wisely avoided kicking at me again.
AND IN THE END...
AMEN!
“Simon Dykes wakes after a drink-and-drugs spree to find that
he is living in a world where male chimps are accused of abusing their
daughters if they do not give them sexual satisfaction.”
- The Economist, May 10, 1997, pg. 83.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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