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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 371  Passions Playpen  NND g2
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                                      Andrew Roller Presents
                                              FUCK DECENCY

                                              Issue No. 371

                                   Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in 
                                            Passion’s Playpen

                                                Chapter Two

         “Oh, please don’t whip me!” Kate begged.  For an answer Maria,
smirking, picked up Kate’s pacifier from where it had fallen near the
baseboard and put it to the girl’s lips.  “Open wide, babykins.  I can
see you’ll need this!” Maria laughed.  There was derision in her
laugher, yet Kate, the 19-year-old college sophomore, grabbed at the
pacifier with her teeth, for she knew that it would comfort her.  She
did not want to grind her teeth or grit them.  She’d seen a man tortured
once on T.V., fictionally, and he’d been given a rubber bit to hold
between his teeth so that he wouldn’t damage them.  That had been his
sole consolation that his captors had given him.  
         So, realizing pleading was quite useless, Kate accepted the
pacifier as her only friend.  Maria, with her foot up on the bed,
imposing her dominion over both Kate and Cindy, stroked her ass.  “You
won’t have your hiney done until tomorrow,” Maria told Kate.  “Try to
shit beforehand if you can, for you’ll hurt afterward, and it will be
hard to wipe for awhile.”  Maria’s voice was controlled, like a doctor
or an anesthesiologist, or for that matter, a well-bosomed nurse,
briefing a patient before an operation.  Yet there was nothing wrong
with Kate.  They would make her sore, for no reason but their own erotic
pleasure.  Kate wished that her lover were present.  In front of him,
she might suffer anything, but he was elsewhere.  Perhaps playing, with
someone else, while she suffered bravely for him in his absence.  She
felt like a woman left in a maternity ward, worried about her husband’s
proclivities at home while she bore them both a child.
         “How many?” Cindy asked Maria.  “Can I give her lots?”  Her
braids bobbed as she asked.  Her eyes were wide and eager.
         “Six,” Maria replied, stroking Kate’s bottom with her fingers
and then questing lightly down between her legs, tickling Kate’s cunny. 
“Award her six.  Slowly, mind you.  I want her to feel each one for as
long as possible before the next is delivered.  Let her absorb the
pain.  She is getting these for her master, to show him that she loves
him and will do whatever he asks, and to prove to him and herself that
she is, or soon will be, after I’ve trained her, a woman.”  
         Kate jerked as Maria delved into her tight purse.  “Lift your
bottom, Kate!” Maria said.  “Show it like you are proud of it, for you
should be.  It is perfect, and so white.  I almost hate to see it
marked.  Lift it, girl, and dip your back, or you’ll feel more strokes
than just the half dozen I’ve planned for you!”
         Biting down hard on her pacifier, shutting her eyes so as to
block at least a little of the humiliation of the act, Kate opened her
legs even more and stuck up her bottom as sassily as she could.  At the
same time she dropped her tummy as far as she could, yet she still
remained standing, clinging to the ring above her head, so that she
seemed like a well-offered female if ever there was one.  The world, she
thought vaguely to herself, was based on this:  the female offering
herself up like this to her chosen male.  Earth would be quite barren
without it, she consoled herself.  
         SWICCKK!  Kate bolted upright.  The sound of the crop striking
into her taut thighs struck her ears even as the implement itself made
its mark upon her sweet columns of flesh.  With a supreme effort Kate
kept her lips closed around her pacifier.  She heard a whine as she
clenched her teeth and jammed her bottom cheeks together, rotating her
ass in a futile attempt to throw off the crop’s sting.  
         “Do not draw your thighs together!” Maria warned Kate in a loud
voice.  Kate tried to press one knee into the back of the other, and
felt Maria’s well-manicured hand award her a sharp slap on her white
bottom.
         “Oooooooh!” Kate whined behind the insucking presence of her
pacifier.  She pulled one of her knees out from behind the other, yet
felt desperate not to, yet knew she must or the crop might well strike
at her lovely-peach bottoms, not just her thighs.  
         “That’s it, that’s it,” Maria complimented as Kate, struggling
against herself, opened her legs.  It was a rude stance Maria made her
take, with her ass gyrating about even as she parted her thighs and
showed her cunt to her whipmistress.  Kate flushed deeply as an image of
her own mother entering the bedroom flashed through her mind.  She’d
been caught with a boyfriend once, at 13.  What would mom say to this? 
Kate felt like an animal trying to pee, her legs apart, showing her cunt
for all the world to see, dipping her back in expectation that if she
didn’t, she’d be punished.
         “Yes, show yourself, show your cunt, don’t try to hide your
pretty sex between those lovely thighs of yours,” Maria laughed in a
voice that sounded like tinkling bells.  “Let me see your cunt!  What a
doll you are!  Pray that you do not feel the crop swept up between your
legs to sting your cunt, young lady!  But keep your legs open to show
your bravery.  Another one, Cindy.  Let me see her squirm even more
dramatically!”
         Cindy obliged.  Kate felt a burning line draw itself smartly
across her thighs and, instinctively, she jammed one knee behind the
other again.  Maria’s hand was quick.  Kate felt her bottom slapped and,
desperate as if to pee, kept her legs this time together, and refused to
open them.
         “She will need seven,” Maria said to Cindy, and waved to the
girl to deliver another cut.
         “Yeeeochchch!” Kate howled.  Somewhere in mid-howl she dropped
her pacifier.  Nobody picked it up for her this time.  It lay upon the
coverlet, wet with Kate’s saliva.  Kate’s eyes brimmed with tears and
she felt her face grow red as she performed most gracelessly in front of
Maria.  She shook her bottom like some pagan nudist tribeswoman in Haiti
and felt just about as moral.  She squeezed her cheeks, brazenly, as if
she were in private but, in fact, two women were watching her and, no
doubt, would report all her little movements to her lover and, perhaps
even worse, to anyone with him.
         “She shook her ass so hilariously!” Kate could just hear Maria
crowing, in a far off bedroom where even now Kate’s lover might be
loosing himself into some fair maiden.  A maiden without cuts across the
front and the back of her thighs, and under her breasts and upon her
soft belly.
         “Give it again.  She is not being good like she should be,”
Maria said calmly to Cindy, as Kate wept and pressed her face to the
wall and let her bottom sag and rotate untidily.
         SWACKCKCK!  A juicy cut slammed into Kate, and she shot herself
upright, howling at the ceiling.  She pressed her tummy against the wall
and felt the old lines where Maria had punished her belly earlier in the
evening.  Behind, just below her slapped bottom, her thighs shook and
fell open, Kate not daring to close herself now.  Kate lost her foothold
on the bed and found herself dangling from the ring in the wall by her
fingers and her chained wrists.  She scrabbled back up again, finding
her footing upon the bed, but it was too late.  For her gracelessness
Cindy awarded her another hard cut.
         The rest were delivered remorselessly, and when the job was
done they left her there, in the dark, unable to reach her fruit,
hanging from the ring with her ass bare and her thighs in flames.  Sharp
lines of pain glowed across her legs.  It was as if the little silver
bell had tortured her.  It had transferred its glow to her thighs.  Kate
cried and sobbed and rubbed her face against the felt, not caring if she
smeared her makeup.
         An hour passed, or perhaps much less than an hour.  Kate was
too busy weeping and feeling sorry for herself to keep track of time.  A
large figure entered behind her.  At first Kate thought it was a man. 
When she turned her head, just a little, hoping for her lover, she saw
her visitor was a woman.  The woman wore a white bonnet and had a
starched white apron on.  She was heavy, middle-aged, long past any
honeymoon trysts.  She turned on the light.  She looked at Kate.  Kate
turned away, mortified, sobbing fiercely, with embarrassment as much as
pain, for she felt foolish in front of this woman.  She was old and
grey, yet prim and proper and sensible, while Kate was young and
beautiful, but stripped utterly naked and showing her ass, and her legs
beneath where they’d whipped her.
         The woman said nothing.  It was as if Kate did not deserve
conversation.  Instead the woman picked up Cindy’s squirt tube of Estee
Lauder, left on the bed unused when Kate proved so undisciplined.  The
woman opened the tube and squirted the balm across the backs of Kate’s
thighs.
         Kate’s head shot up and she grimaced.  The cream was remarkably
cool.  It had a light, airy feeling to it and Kate knew it would never
have felt so unendurably wonderful against her skin if it hadn’t been
whipped first.  
         Pain, pleasure.  It was a strange mixture.  Kate felt her cunt
wetten as the woman, working slowly, rubbed the cream into Kate’s
thighs, just below where her cunny lips hung.  
         The woman never touched Kate’s cunt.  She was dutiful in her
ministrations, not clever or mischievous.  She only touched Kate where
she was permitted to, where the crop had left new marks.  Kate found
herself yearning for the woman’s touch.  Rudely she pushed her bottom
back at the woman in silent pleading.  Touch oh touch oh touch me just a
little higher, higher, Kate begged in her mind.  She would have spoken
but she feared Maria was listening, somehow, and judging her
performance.  
         When the woman was finished, she released Kate from the wall. 
She shook her head as she saw how Kate had smeared her makeup.  She
helped Kate, who found herself much stiffer than she might have thought,
lie down in the bed.  Kate winced as her thighs came to rest on the
fur.  She drew up her knees a little so they would not touch it.
         “Do you wish to be covered?” the woman asked Kate.  Her first
words.  She stood holding the coverlet up with one hand.  Kate shook her
head no, still weeping a little, saying nothing.  She was hot from her
beating and she did not want the dual warmth of the fur enclosing her. 
The woman dropped the fur so that Kate would lie naked, exposed the open
air.  She did not bother to offer Kate any of the food by the bed.  It
was obvious Kate was in no mood to eat.
         “I shall empty the chamberpot, in case you have to go again,”
the woman observed, glancing into the pot by the chair.  It was Maria’s
pee in the pot, but the woman did not know that.  Kate did not bother to
tell her.  Instead she bit her lip, feeling ridiculous.  She wept
openly.  She heard the woman grunt as she lifted up the pot.  Maria’s
pee sloshed inside it as the woman carried it from the room.  In a
little while she returned, and replaced it on the floor.
         “Sleep.  They will work you harder tomorrow,” the woman advised
Kate.  Then she flicked out the light and went out, and this time she
closed the door behind her.  And she locked it.

                                              Chapter Three

         Kate was taken to breakfast.  She was washed first, again in
milk, this time by the old woman, who did her hair and her face for her,
washing her like she was a small child, with Kate resisting, but not
completely, for she knew she must let the woman do her work lest she be
punished.  The woman also washed Kate’s body.  Unlike Maria, she used a
sponge.  Kate wondered if her value had somehow diminished during the
night.  Had her own performance, in the bedroom, led to her being less
favored?  
         Kate realized she was beginning to think like a slave.  A slave
has no will of its own.  It wishes only to please its master.  Kate
shuddered at the thought that she was falling victim to any sort of
‘hostage syndrome.’  Yet that had been the purpose, had it not, so long
ago in that carriage, that was only last evening but seemed an eternity
ago now?  To make her subservient, in love, to the will and desires of
her lover.  
         Yes!  She’d captured it now, and she shivered again as the
woman worked studiously to wash her, Kate standing up in the tub and the
woman kneeling before her, almost worshipfully, but washing her like a
horse or a little girl nonetheless, forcing her to part her legs,
lifting her arms, turning her to sponge her white bottom.  Kate had
committed to herself to give herself to her lover, to let him master
her, for this little while.  She wished to escape all her other roles
and just be His.  It was her gift to him, and to herself, she realized. 
Here, in the tub, even in the bed, there were no rules.  Oh, it seemed
like there were, but there was really only her body and its feelings and
its desires and its sensations.  Not all were immediately pleasurable,
but surely there must be something to the crop, however awful it was. 
Something to her bravery and her attempts, however feeble, to discipline
herself to take it.  
         And the luxury was overwhelming.  Kate had to do nothing for
herself.  She was bathed, fed, watched over.  A princess in a castle
where the servants all lived for her.  But in their own special way,
liberating her to new feelings.  Kate squirmed as she felt the woman’s
sponge pass over the marks made last night on her thighs.  The most
recent marks, in back, where her bottom curved in to meet her legs. 
Yes, was there not a warmth there, imparted by the stiff leather?  Did
it not make her wet somehow, feeling it?  Didn’t it remind her of the
hardness of her lover, and of how demanding he could be?  
         The cucumber had been awful.  Of that she was sure.  And crazy,
almost unplanned, as if Maria simply could not control herself upon
seeing Kate’s bottom naked.  Kate touched her ass with her finger.  She
delved inside, ignoring the woman.  
         “You are an anal virgin?” the woman asked simply.  She paused,
watching Kate.
         “I WAS an anal virgin.  Until last night,” Kate said, biting
her lip as she realized what an intimate subject she was discussing with
this woman whose name she didn’t yet know.
         “You will lose all your cherries here, but gain a few weals,”
the woman laughed.

                                             LUSTY LETTERS
                                                 to holy joe

         [Name withheld, in England,] writes:  “I am from England, UK
and have thought for years that MAYFAIR is the best magazine we have
here.  However don't criticize PLAYBOY because it is the best magazine
on the planet.  It is NOT as 'explicit' as many other mags BUT it is
"Pure 100% QUALITY" !!!  Penthouse is OK, over here we have a magazine
called PENTHOUSE UK, or PHUK for short.  To be honest with you "PHUK" is
a load of phuking crap!  Hustler is a good mag but as you say FAR TOO
MUCH TEXT.
         “I'm glad there are other guys like you out there that
appreciate MAYFAIR for what it is (A GREAT magazine) because the more it
sells the longer it will keep going!!  It is only the second best mag
out there though - PLAYBOY will always be NUMBER ONE!!!”


                                    ‘MATE WITH ME’  MONOPOLY
                                                by holy joe

         Play the game that combines the thrill of nudity with the fun
of Monopoly!  There’s no money to keep track of, and no property to own,
just the ever-present danger of orgasming in front of everyone!
         Mate with Me Monopoly has been incorporated into Chapter Three
of my story Fevered Fall.  If any of you girls would like to play-test
this game with me, just contact me.  We won’t be wearing clothes, but I
promise to remember to wear my underarm deodorant.  (Now if I could only
solve my little gas problem...)
 

                                                SATISFIED
                                             by Tim DiVito

                   Passion not only gratifies,
                   but touches the heart,
                   naturally testing the limits of the soul.

                   Hair, sweat and flesh intertwine,
                   exhaustion fuses mind and body,
                   after delving into an orgasmic onrush.

                   In the grasp of pleasure minds are open
                   to animal urges that satisfy
                   an insatiable appetite.

                   As lustful cravings are unleashed,
                   lovers become jaded,
                   not worrying about the consequences.

                   When carnal hunger is enticed 
                   nerve endings dance on a raging flame,
                   satisfied only when red hot.

                   Cooling down, slow, soft caresses
                   upon the sweet glistening skin
                   that just satisfied a need.


                                             AND IN THE END...

                                            FEMINIST STORIES
                                                 by holy joe !

         “Mother goddesses are individual, possess distinct characters,
are young... and are highly sexual.  ...The male plays a relatively less
important role, being frequently reduced to a mere fecundator.
         “...Her ...appearance, choice of a male partner, and
intercourse with him restore and guarantee fertility, after which the
male consort is frequently set aside.”

- Encyclopedia Britannica, Volume M, page 361.


-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
-Back issues (and stories):  type
http://www.dejanews.com/
into your browser’s “Location” window. Press your “return” key.
Click on “Power Search” in the middle of the screen.  Next, 
Type in:  roller666@earthlink.net    in the box that appears. 

or surf to:  http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/

-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
  copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.  Work by others
  copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 371 EMISSION

         A mother goddess is not to be confused with an Earth Mother.  A
mother goddess must periodically undergo intercourse.  An Earth Mother,
on the other hand, is an eternally fruitful source of everything.  (from
Britannica.)


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