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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 340 Dungeon of Desire NND g2
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SAVE THE SPERM !
I can’t believe this country. What is America coming to? Is
this a cruel country, or what? I mean, take the latest issue of Jump.
It’s the magazine “for girls who dare to be real.” Looking at the
models in this magazine, I’d say it’s a magazine for girls ages 8 - 13.
And what is Jump teaching them? To be cruel. To kill. And
not just to kill any old thing, no; how to kill sperm!
Take the article “Sperm Warfare,” on pages 74-75. It details
all the different ways to use birth control to kill sperm. For
instance, under a photo of condoms, Jump says, “Spermicidal foams,
creams or jellies make condoms super-effective, but proper usage is the
key. Be sure it’s rolled (rim on the outside) all the way down to the
base of the penis. Remember: Learning can be half the fun.” (page 74)
Has nobody at Jump realized that sperm are alive? Yes, alive!
Sperm are living things. And they are so small, so defenseless. They
get spurted out into the world, helplessly, sometimes without warning,
and now you’re teaching girls how to kill them?!
You’d think with all the people getting upset over the killing
of foetuses, Jump would have respect for life much smaller: little,
wiggly sperm. How would you like to be a sperm? There you are, just
sprung to life, barely seconds old, and something called “spermicide” is
already out to kill you!
It’s time that we have some respect for sperm in this country.
We need to have a national “Be Nice to Sperm Day.” I mean, consider
this: President Clinton was once a sperm. Today, he’s the president.
What if some spermicide had killed him? Where would we be then, hmmm?
We would still have George Bush as our president, and everyone would
still be out of a job.
Girls, just because something is smaller than you doesn’t mean
you should kill it. Be nice. Try to give sperm a warm, cozy place to
live. A sperm is sort of like a tadpole, but much smaller. You
wouldn’t be mean to a tadpole, would you?
Hopefully Greenpeace will help us understand that, just as we
need to protect sperm whales, little sperm need our protection too.
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: Crab the dog
Issue No. 340
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Dungeon of Desire
Chapter Two
I sought Miriam’s puckered anus. I found it and, drawing my
breath for courage, I penetrated her with my tongue. She shrieked. It
was a happy shriek.
“Yes, dear! Do me! Suck my asshole and fuck me with your
little tongue!” Miriam called out. I would have preferred that she not
tell all the world what I was doing. I stabbed her more deeply for
that, hoping to punish her. She felt pleasure instead. She played with
her clit as I tongued her hole.
Afterward, my legs undone and my hands free at last, I was
permitted to rise. The orgy was over. Miriam herself helped me up. I
looked at her. We both had guilty faces. Then I glanced about.
Everyone was finished. They selected among the bikini tops and bottoms
on the floor for something to wear. The women looked like they were
searching for bits of nourishment as they picked their way, bird-like,
through the detritus of clothing that was scattered about the floor.
The men put their trousers and shirts back on. A new decorum took hold
in the crowd. Genitals were no longer stared at, and were quickly
covered up. Glancing eyes showed modesty. People did not linger over
each other’s figures, but comported themselves more like they would at
an office, afraid of sexual harassment lawsuits. The girls fitted
themselves into the remnants of their bikinis as best they could. Then,
the men escorting their lovers out into the darkness, they left. They
would escape to their cars in the night. Except for the passing of
headlights, no one would see them. It was an elegant neighborhood. A
certain boredom, bred in suburbia, ruled the front yards and the streets
at night here. Perhaps a policeman would pass, perhaps not, going his
rounds. He would deliberately fail to notice the torn bra, or the red
lines on a half-covered girl’s hiney. Here, wealth paid the Law to keep
its distance.
“You have a beautiful little slave,” Miriam told Sauron, my
master. He strode up to her to reclaim me. Katy was beside him,
dressed but undressed in her fetching bikini. She wore somebody else’s
top. It was made of leather. One of its zippered bra-cups wouldn’t
close all the way and I caught a hint of pink nipple within the
encircling leather.
“I would like to train her here,” my Master told Miriam.
“Certainly sir,” she replied. “I’m well equipped for whatever
you desire. You wish to, um, break her in?” Miriam asked. Her voice
had a touch of sadness to it, as if she hated to part with me.
“Yes,” Sauron said. His voice was deeper than before. I
sensed he was feeling a new excitement already, despite his labors at
the orgy. Katy clung to him like a mermaid. He gazed at me with the
eyes of a shipwrecked sailor spotting land.
“There is a room upstairs,” Miriam told my Master. “It has
everything you need. There’s a bath attached. I’ll have the waiters
send up food.” She looked from Sauron to Kelly, then to me. “Asians
make the most delicate mistresses, and the harshest,” she told me. She
slapped my bottom. My undies, brought to the party by some other girl,
she perhaps wearing mine, did little to ward off the blow. They were
soft cotton, thin as a condom. I yelped a little yelp. Nobody cared.
Sauron took me gruffly by my arm and led me off with him. Katy
followed. She held a pony whip in her hand and she let it flick itself
along her thigh as she carried it in her hand.
Stairs beckoned. We trod upward on them. Sauron led me,
walking quickly. Katy followed. Miriam stayed behind. I heard her
order the two waiters to clean up the room. The party was over. Now,
my true ordeal would begin.
Chapter Three
Wet with myself and the sperm of the men who insisted on having
me, I proceeded upstairs with my captors. Katy kept a finger hooked
through my dog collar to make sure I didn’t try to escape. To be
honest, I thought fervently of it, but I was so scared I had trouble
just walking. The fact I wore five inch spiked heels didn’t help. Now
I knew why the heels had such elaborate ankle straps. There was no way
I could kick them off and flee. The slightest misstep could make me
fall. I’d almost toppled over twice while I was dancing. Somehow, the
music, and the sight of the other girls, had elevated me on my heels,
and let me wear them almost as if they were part of my body. But now,
trembling more desperately now than I had all night, I could barely put
one foot in front of the other. Jasmine had promised me that Sauron
would be cruel. But did I want cruelty? I wanted a challenge. Yes,
but not cruelty. Yet my position was hopeless. I was nude, wet from
sex, and tied up in heels and collared. Only my earrings swung free,
seductively dangling from my earlobes. But I think they merely showed
my servitude too, for they resembled small penises, I thought, at least
in the abstract, and invited glancing men to fuck me however they
wished. And then leave me.
Yes, they’d all left. All those handsome guests with their
pretty wives. Or lovers. Whichever, they’d used me and left. I wanted
to go home now. I was finished. I’d had enough. But this was no
story, no movie. This was a real house on the clifftops above L.A.
‘Manned’ by a real woman, Miriam. And she’d let Katy and Sauron have
me. How couldn’t she? I’d arrived with them. I’d showed my tacit
approval of their dominance by letting them bring me in the first place.
I heard laughter. Raucous, freewheeling. It frightened me.
My soft tummy tensed. My tawny, lean legs kicked a little as Katy
pushed me forward toward my fate. She pinched my bottom. Her
fingertips were hard and her manicured nails bit into my flesh. I
yelped.
A man stumbled from a bedroom. Not ours, no. Ours would be
quiet, the bedcovers turned down and waiting, whips hung on the wall,
slumbering til their next taste of bottomflesh.
“Oooooh, I want to go home!” I cried, unhappily. Katy pinched
me again and I yelped a second time.
The man was laughing. He held a bottle of liquor in his hand
and as he stumbled out of the bedroom I heard a female scream and a
stream of white champagne shot out of the open bedroom door. The man,
not seeing us yet, took a swig of liquor from the bottle he held. He
seemed determined to immerse himself in sin. He was young, 23 perhaps.
But what impressed me most deeply about him was that, despite his
nudity, wearing just black military socks, he had perched atop his head,
giving him a regal bearing, an Officer’s hat. It had a wealth of
scrambled eggs on its bill and, above that, on the front of the hat
itself, a steel naval emblem. As a girl of ten I’d cherished soldiers,
and studied all their insignia in my mom’s encyclopedia. And now,
apparently, I had the real thing here before me. He was tall and quite
handsome, a true officer and a gentleman, I thought, despite his drunken
revelry. Had Tailhook moved here from the Hilton, seeking less
conspicuous digs? But I sensed there were no more than three or four of
them altogether, the man plus his companions in the bedroom. And yes,
looking down, I did notice his penis. It was as long in proportion as
he was tall, and thick besides, showing itself quite ready for the
females celebrating with him in the bedroom.
I heard a male call out and another female cry, happily,
perhaps getting fucked by him, but my Officer-soldier did not seem to
notice. Lowering his liquor bottle from his lips, he’d seen me.
“Does this young lady wish to go home?” the young Officer asked
aloud of Sauron and Katy. It was obvious I had no choice in the
matter. Like a captive butterfly, I trembled between them, Katy shoving
me forward, her finger regulating me by my collar, while Sauron led the
way.
“What is it to you?” Sauron snarled. He was in a bad mood. He
had shot all his balls had to give and yet, I think, he longed for
more. He had yet to fuck me. I was wet and available. A little sore,
perhaps, but with all the sperm that had been pumped into my by other
men there was no doubt he could find me quite slick inside. Yet he was
temporarily shriveled. Perhaps the sight of the young Officer’s penis
made him jealous.
“I think if the young lady wishes to go home, she should be
allowed to, that’s all,” the Officer told my captor.
We stood in the glimmering lamplight of the hallway. The
lamps, old-fashioned in style, made, it appeared, of handblown glass,
seemed reminiscent of an earlier age, of gas lights tended by housemaids
and of trimmed wicks and and English proprieties. Had not the great
Naval age of England once civilized all the world? And now America,
inheriting the empire of the very government it had revolted against,
ruled the seas in place of the English ships. And here, amidst this
lamplight, the prettily patterned wallpaper of the walls enclosing us,
stood a very dignified young fellow, despite the absence of his
trousers.
“Here, look! Perhaps they were placed here of a purpose!” the
young Officer said. He glanced at the wall and there, for decoration
alone, I’m sure, hung two silver swords. Perhaps he thought they were
just fakes, but the young man reached for them anyway, and taking them
quickly down from the wall, handling them, he saw that they were sharp
all along their length and pointed.
I found a chill running down my spine to my bottomcheeks. ‘Put
them back!’ I wanted to shout. I listened as the young Officer rubbed
the swords against each other. There was a sound as of razors being
sliced against one another. He looked up. And to my great unhappiness
he said, “Sir, if you wish to keep the girl despite Her wishes, then I
must challenge you to a duel.”
The young man, despite being obviously American, had a slight
English accent. I learned later he’d roomed in Britain for a time. His
parents were wealthy and hoped to make a fine Man of him, or at least to
get him out of their hair by dumping him someplace respectable. And,
also, when I learned this, I learned that he’d gone on to the Citadel,
being too poor in his high school grades to get where he should have
gone, into the Naval academy at Annapolis.
“You, sir, are at a slight disadvantage, due to your cock,”
Sauron grinned. The boy was hard as the swords and his not
inconsiderable penis stuck out a good twelve inches from his flat
belly. “Not to mention your cockiness.”
“I am not cocky, just protecting a Lady,” my Officer replied.
“Toss me a blade, then, fool. You can spend the rest of your
life making cheap porn after you’ve sewn yourself back on!” Sauron
bellowed.
“I came across your newsletter in an under-ground music shop
out in Seattle, WA,” writes echo syzygy. “I bought the only copy they
had. Since then, they have never been able to obtain any more of your
newsletters, saying they weren’t sure how they came across it in the
first place.
“I have been involved in writing poetry for five years and have
just self-published a collection of early poetry under the title of
‘Away...’ I have stacks of rejection letters claiming my work is ‘too
dark’ or ‘unusual and gothic.’”
thrash
by echo syzygy
I lay alone under these
damp marble walls
with you.
And I
feel you dripping on me.
Push away
from
another
blood soaked kiss
“I will die tonight”
and you feel
the weight of
my fading stare.
And you
will grab for my out-reached hands
melting them gently
upon my silent heart.
All is quiet now,
above my whitened flesh
and you are full
of my
rotting
blood
that spills
from your mouth.
You bundle warm
in my
naked soul,
rocking
me back and forth
and deeper
and deeper.
My shadow escapes me
on the cold
marble walls but you
have stolen nothing less
than the essence
of my soul
and the
eternity
of my pain...
AND IN THE END...
THE GOVT. VS. MICROSOFT
“The government may... be repeating the mistake it made when it
once tried to stop Chrysler [from] installing radios in its cars.”
- The Economist, December 20, 1997, pg. 102.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
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copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 340 EMISSION Celebrate Pedophile Heritage Month!
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