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Subject: FUCK DECENCY 374 Passions Playpen NND g2
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Pedophile Studies
AMERICA’S GREATEST PEDOPHILE !
It is widely known, but infrequently reported, that the poet
Walt Whitman was a practising pedophile.
However, I have never seen it reported anywhere that Will
Durant was a pedophile. “Who?” you might ask.
If you are an educated person, you either own, or have heard of
The Story of Civilization, by Will and Ariel Durant. This is an entire
history of civilization, consisting of eleven volumes in all, of about
1,000 pages each.
The Story of Civilization was offered for free for many years
by The Book of the Month Club, as a membership inducement. The Story of
Civilization is currently offered by the Easton Press, bound in leather,
at the price of approximately fifty dollars per volume.
Have you ever taken the time to read “About the Authors,” in
the back of The Story of Civilization? Today I did just that. I was
shocked to find that, in modern America, Will Durant would be:
a. Fired from his position as a teacher and discredited for
life.
b. Prosecuted for child molestation and child rape, and
forcibly castrated.
c. Imprisoned for life.
In addition, Durant’s wife would be denominated “a child at
risk,” and her parents would probably be prosecuted for “child neglect”
and “child endangerment”.
In addition, the school that Durant’s wife attended would
probably have to pay civil damages to the family of Durant’s wife, and
various members of the school administration might also be subject to
criminal penalties.
Why? In 1913, Will Durant was 28-years-old. He taught at a
high school, the Ferrer Modern School in New York. Ariel Durant (then
named Ida Kaufman), was a pupil at the Ferrer School. She was, in fact,
a pupil of Will Durant, and he fell in love with her. She was
15-years-old.
At the tender age of 15, not even able to drive, to vote, or to
drink, Ariel Durant was induced by Will to marry him. How an educated,
“mature,” “grown” man of 28 could possibly have anything in common with
a 15-year-old high school *freshman* is, of course, something that I
cannot imagine. Nonetheless, they married, lived happily ever after,
and wrote a complete history of civilization.
In addition to being a practising pedophile, Will Durant was a
libertarian.
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Hamilton? Sturges?
http://www.amazon.com
Issue No. 374
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Passion’s Playpen
Chapter Three
“Wait. Let me get you something for good luck,” Bess said.
She rose and she bustled from the room. Kate stood, hardly able to
move, she felt so weighed down by the chains, though they were light.
She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and saw a girl with radiant
blonde hair and red lips and big, wide blue eyes staring back at her.
The girl wore twin braids in her hair, decorations merely, for they left
bangs hanging down in her eyes, and loose tresses along her face, and
the bulk of her hair in back lay freely across her shoulders and back.
The braids, dropping down as far as her longest strands of hair, were
tied off at their ends by a single pink ribbon.
And Kate saw the cuffs and the chains. The links were small
but they were chains all the same. Kate held her wrists under her
chin. She moved her knees and heard the links of the chain that
connected her ankles clank on the floor. She was small, and captive,
like a little parakeet put into a cage, except the chains were her cage.
Bess returned. She sat down again on the stool by the folding
cabinet, and she gazed like an appreciative mother at Kate standing
before her. She reached up and clipped a necklace around Kate’s neck.
The chain was as thin as a thread and, in front, where the necklace hung
just a little below Kate’s throat, offering its centerpiece, there was a
sickle. Not a hammer and a sickle, as Kate might have expected, but a
sickle, with a sharp-looking blade and a long, knotted handle. Kate
felt herself swallow and the Russian woman gazed at her bare throat.
“There. It signifies that you are ready,” Bess said. Kate
wasn’t sure she wanted the necklace but, with her wrists cuffed in front
of her, there was no way she could reach back to get the necklace
undone. She might have fiddled with it, and turned it backwards, with
the sickle in back and the clasp in front, pulling on it with her
fingers, but Bess was present and she did not want to offend the woman.
Marie scared her. She did not need Bess, who was as wide as Maria was
tall, to be plotting against her also.
So she stood and let the Russian woman admire her nudity. Bess
stroked her belly and seemed to want to gather her breasts, but Kate
kept her arms in front of them, blocking them, so the woman trailed a
finger down to her pubic thatch instead.
“They have marked you already,” Bess said, looking at Kate’s
belly, her thighs. She had seen this earlier, no doubt, but now she
wished to admire her handiwork, the freshness of Kate’s skin, after her
bath, the chains, fitted well so that she could not escape them, the
sickle that hung from her throat. “Sometimes I get to mark a girl,
after her bath. But only your bottom remains to be marked now, and I am
not allowed that. Not often, anyway,” the Russian woman observed. “Why
did you come, you poor American girl? In Russia we had no time for
these games when I was young. We were smart enough to know not to seek
pain, but you American girls, I have prepared at least two dozen now,
you come here seeking pain. Why?”
Kate stared down into the woman’s eyes as the woman lifted her
face, still brushing her big fingers in Kate’s fleecy pubis. Kate bit
her lip and shook her head. She did not know. She had no answer.
“You have anesthetic at the dentist’s, and in the hospital, you
have more of that. And you have police and safety, and yet you come
here and seek pain,” Bess said. “Well you will get pain, my little
one. They will take you to the barn. I do not get to see it often but
I hear the screams. Always the girl is gagged but if I stand close to
the barn, pretending to do my chores in the yard, I can hear her muffled
cries. They are desperate, little one! They sound like those of a
woman in labor.”
“Bess, are you frightening her?” Kate heard a familiar voice
ask. Kate’s head turned sharply to her left and she saw, looming in the
doorway, Marie. The woman wore her dark hair pinned up, as if she were
prepared for some exercise. She had on a short black dress, but it
looked as if it had been put on only because, when the moment was ripe,
it could be quickly unzipped. Sheathing her long legs were black
boots. They were made of black leather, real leather, and they were
well polished. On her arms, right up to her elbows, Marie wore leather
gloves. A dark tie-band around the back of each of her wrists made the
gloves snug. Up just beyond her elbow, drawstrings were drawn tight to
keep the gloves wrapped round her arms. But, as if to permit them freer
movement, the gloves did not sheathe her fingers. They were bare, and
in one hand Marie gripped a short whip. Kate gasped as she saw how many
tails it had. At least nine, with knots at the end of each.
Marie strode into the room and Kate watched as the woman’s
breasts bounced in her tight dress. No bra, and Kate guessed no panties
either.
“Put a bit in her mouth. I want to teach her to crawl,” Marie
told Bess. “You will have a nice little exercise this morning, my pet,”
Marie said to Kate.
“Where is?” Kate asked. Her voice was so tremulous she
couldn’t finish her sentence. She gulped. She felt her puss wetten.
She felt a deep, sensual thrill run up her spine as she stood so small
and naked before Marie. She wished to ask for her lover, but she
couldn’t talk, she was so taken by the presence of the bold, tall woman
with the gorgeous black hair. Both Marie and Bess gazed at her as if at
a toy.
“I bathed her, but she feels wet down there already,” Bess said
to Marie. The Russian woman indicated Kate’s cunt and Marie, reaching
out, felt within, forcing Kate to open her thighs.
“She is excited!” Marie said happily. “I was sure you’d
disobey and rub yourself to sleep after Cindy and I left you last
night,” Marie said to Kate. “You are more loyal than I expected. Some
girls must be beaten into submission. But you are trying, dear heart,
you are trying and I am very proud of you for behaving in your bed after
I left you.” She looked at Bess. “Did she wet it?”
“No, ma’am, it were nice and dry this morning,” Bess answered.
“Well, she was not tied, I guess, so it is no matter.”
“She did pee in her chamber pot,” Bess said.
“Good, well we will teach her pee control later then, some
other time,” Marie said. “Put a bit in her mouth and then have her go
sit on the potty, if she needs to, and then I’ll walk her downstairs,
doggie style, so that I can admire that cute little ass of hers!”
As Kate stood trembling, Bess took a head harness from under
the towels, in the closet, and put it around Kate’s face. She fitted a
bit into Kate’s mouth. Kate felt the bit lying on her tongue and it
felt hard and demanding. Bess buckled twin straps around the back of
Kate’s head, drawing her hair out from under them first so that it would
still hang free. When the straps were tight, Bess pushed the bit back
into Kate’s mouth, as far as it would go, so that it distorted her
cheeks and made her look like a pony. Bess adjusted buckles on the
sides of each headstrap, making the bit tight as she could, then easing
it just a little, to give Kate a little comfort.
Kate was mortified by the head harness. But worse, for her,
were the reins. They made her feel like mere property. They hung from
the sides of her harness down behind her back. The end of each rein lay
upon the bulge of her bottom.
Kate looked at herself again in the vanity mirror. She looked
awful! She was made up, as if for a party, but she was totally nude.
Restraints held her limbs and chains hung between them. And worst of
all, topping it all off, a big leather head harness was buckled onto her
head, bitting her and leaving reins trailing down her back. She was
barefoot. She was barehanded. Her hair hung free, and her breasts
sighed with her every breath, showing their nipples. Yet she was as
captive as any dog, and dressed as a pony might be for the Derby.
“Come, my sweet, let’s find your master and show him how pretty
you look in your harness and chains,” Marie said to Kate, and laughed.
She ordered Kate to get down on her knees. Animal-like, afraid to bend
down but more afraid not to, Kate got down onto the floor. She was
aware of Bess sitting behind her, still on her stool, looking at Kate’s
bare bottom. Maria bent and whisked the cat across Kate’s ass, quite
lightly, but making Kate start. And then, realizing what was required,
she dashed forward on her hands and knees.
“See! She is dutiful!” Maria laughed. She ran after Kate and
told her to halt. She bent and picked up the reins which trailed down
on the floor on either side of Kate’s body. “Alright, little one, off
we go!” Maria said when she had the reins both firmly in hand. She gave
Kate’s bottom another light brush of the cat and Kate, not waiting for a
harder stroke, bolted forward.
Kate padded down the hallway on her hands and knees. The
carpet was plush and she felt grateful, knowing Marie must have laid a
carpet just for such pleasures. Kate’s breasts swung beneath her.
Their tips were unbearably hard and they pointed at angles away from
each other, young breasts, full and firm and sweetly udder-like, but
unmilked, for they did not sag or droop but had a full bounciness to
them.
With her braids hanging almost to the floor and her hair
sweeping down around her slim shoulders, but her bottom and back
otherwise quite bare and revealed, Kate trundled along the floor and
negotiated her way face-first down a flight of carpeted steps. Marie
followed, chuckling a little at how Kate’s young bottom stuck up, its
cheeks working in glossy splendor as Kate hurried along the floor. The
carpet smelled fresh, like daisies. Kate knew it must have just been
cleaned, especially for her, perhaps at noon before the night of her
arrival, a man working overtime to ensure it was spotless. Kate felt
her sex, moist between her thighs, snug and purselike yet yearning to be
pierced and fed. It showed itself from behind and Kate imagined Marie
to be watching it as Kate went down the steps.
Downstairs, at the back of the townhouse, Kate heard men’s
voices. A hint of cigar smoke touched her nose. Marie directed her to
crawl to her right and there, standing in front of a doorway, was her
lover.
He was awake with the morning. Stripped naked, he stood with
his hands on his hips. His penis arced out in front of him. Beneath
its considerable length hung his balls, full and tight and ready. He
did not smile at her. He looked slightly annoyed. But his chest was
large and broad, just as she remembered so well, and his stomach flat,
and his thighs were powerful and thick. He gave a whistle. A dog’s
whistle, and Kate felt herself impelled forward, Marie cracking the
reins across her back with a quick flip of her wrist.
Reaching her master, who was her lover, Kate instinctively,
though she had not ever done this before, bent her face down and kissed
his bare feet. It was difficult for her to kiss with the bit in her
mouth but she did her best, pursing her lips over the bit and mouthing
him.
“Hey! Stop!” Her lover, whose name was Trent, said aloud.
Kate heard laughter, male laughter, and she heard Marie giggle.
“She is a good slave,” Marie said to Trent. “You should be
proud of her.”
“I am, but she’s getting my feet wet,” Trent said, lifting a
foot. Kate sucked his big toe into her mouth, not knowing why, afraid,
perhaps, of what lay ahead for her. Trent pulled his toe out of her
mouth and pointed to the doorway.
Kate crawled within. It was a beige room, arranged with
couches but with no table, though Kate saw a breakfast tray brimming
with food and coffee sitting on an empty loveseat. To her surprise
there were three men within. They all had business suits on. Kate’s
lover followed her into the room. He sat down on a couch between two of
the men in suits. They did not touch him, but they gazed in open
admiration at his cock.
“These are my gay friends,” Marie said to Kate, who knelt like
a puppy beside Marie’s feet, for Marie still held her reins. “As you
know, your lover is paying me to train you. But he will be spared a
little of the cost for allowing me to have my gay friends attend you and
he at your nude honeymoon breakfast. Stand up, dear, go and sit on his
lap and kiss him like a young female should.”
International Clit Club
by Michelle Edwards
“Micherotic”
There’s a special place where all men cum, when they want to hang
bare and free,
It’s called The Clit Club and as you can see, the creator of this club
is
me.
There’s no need to bring your wallet, just your want for satisfaction,
For dinner you can have your dick licked and eating pussy is the main
attraction.
Clits of every shape and size, waiting to feel your touch,
Throbbing clits all around you, hoping to be your lunch.
There’s a rule for who will cum first, and a rule for who will cum last,
If your dick doesn’t measure seven inches or more, our test you will
never pass.
Seven inches a servant, eight inches a master, and nine inches will make
you a king,
And a woman in control of a tight pussy, is no other than the clit
queen.
To be a member of my unique club, on your face I first must sit,
So I can see if you can drink, the juices of my clit.
And if you pass my stimulating test, I’ll give your dick a rub,
And a special key that says you belong, to The International Clit Club.
AND IN THE END...
WHAT HAPPENS
When you lock up pedophiles?
“There has... been a huge increase, a 120 percent jump, since
1980, in the suicide rate among 10- to 14-year-olds.”
- The Newshour with Jim Lehrer, May 25, 1998.
(too bad there was nobody around to love them. - h.j.)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-When visiting Barnes and Noble, ask for: Jock Sturges’ Radiant
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-Also by David Hamilton: A Place in the Sun, and Twenty Five Years
of an Artist Need a book? http://www.amazon.com
- JOIN the world’s greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North
American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership.
NAMBLA, 537 Jones St. #8418, San Francisco, CA 94102.
Phone: 1-212-807-8578; Web: http://www.nambla.org
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-Official Newsletter, Temple of Pan
-END OF 374 EMISSION
“We had to destroy the village to save it.”
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