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Subject: FUCK DECENCY 327 NEW! Dungeon of Desire (NND) g2
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“I climb to the very top of the castle where once there was a
tower and there in full view of Ireland I interfere with myself and
spurt all over Carrigogunnell and fields beyond”
- Frank McCourt, Angela’s Ashes, pg. 299.
(not me, him. - h.j.)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: Crab the dog
Issue No. 327
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Nudie Nursery
Chapter Five
Jasmine had been right. When I got home, when I met my
friends, I couldn’t help myself. I had to show them my ass! I turned
round and bent over and hiked down my tight, ass-clinging jeans. And
they saw it. Two strong welts ridged across my bottom. They ran their
fingers over my welts and gasped at my bravery.
“I want more,” I told them, my head down, my hair falling in
streaming strands to the floor, the cones of my breasts heavy in my
sweater. I wiggled my bottom and felt my cheeks tingle. They were
plump, inviting. “Get my camera off my night table and take a picture
of my ass! I want to send it to that man Jasmine told me about.”
My girlfriends complied. They took a photograph, not of my
face but just of my ass. I sealed it in a pink envelope and sent it to
the P.O. Box of the man on the business card.
I received no reply. Jasmine had warned me that I wouldn’t.
Finally, drawing up all my courage, making the call from my bedroom,
alone, in the middle of the night, I spoke to him. I hugged my teddy
bear as I spoke to him. A woman answered, but she put me on the line
with him as soon as I asked for him by his special name.
“Sauron,” he wished to be called. I knew of the character.
Sauron controlled little hobbits in the Lord of the Rings and made them
do his bidding. If he caught them. If they came to him and let him
catch them. Hobbits, and elves too, and fairies, perhaps, though I’d
never finished the book. It was too long. Was this real Sauron too
long?
I bought a whip. He told me on the phone where to buy it. I
presented the whip at the counter and the clerk looked at me with
knowing eyes. She rung me up and I left, blushing, holding the whip in
an equestrian shopping bag close to my chest.
I caught a ride with a girlfriend that afternoon. She told my
mom I was going camping with her girl scout troop. But instead, deep in
the canyons outside L.A., finding his house on a peak at the top of a
canyon that gave a beautiful view of the city, she let me out. I turned
and waved goodbye to her as she sped off in her Mustang. She didn’t
want to leave me. But I made her, and she complied at last, holding my
hand, begging me to be careful and to call her as soon as I could. I
promised I would.
With fearful steps I approached his house. A woman, working in
the garden, greeted me. She was his housekeeper. I recognized her
voice from the phone.
“Yes, come right in, dear. He’s expecting you,” she told me.
As soon as we were inside she told me to take off my clothes.
I shivered. I hesitated. “You have the whip? Good,” she
said, taking my shopping bag, opening it, looking inside. “Undress,
dear. Everything.”
“Even my panties?” I asked, unbuttoning my jeans. I savored
the words. I was scared out of my wits but, somehow, I found pleasure
in asking for mercy and being refused.
“Yes, of course, darling. Get them right off,” she replied.
He appeared in the doorway. He was big and strong and his hair was dark
and he had skipped shaving for several days. I stared. He stared
back. Slowly, our eyes still gripped by one another, I slipped out of
my clothes. When I was bare and naked and left in only my shoes and my
earrings, his housekeeper took my hand. She presented me to him.
Standing with my nipples like thorns, poking up at him, held aloft by my
young, uptilted breasts, I gazed at him and bit my lip. I let his eyes
move over my face, then down, knowing what he was looking at. Freely he
admired my breasts, letting me blush as he gazed at them; then his eyes
trailed down over my softly breathing belly to my bush. He put his
thumbs to my thighs and I yelped as he rudely yanked my legs apart. I
almost lost my balance. His housekeeper grabbed my shoulders to keep me
from falling.
The strange man’s thumbs intruded into my cunny. I felt
helpless before him. My breath rushed in and out of my chest, quick,
fearful, as he probed me.
“Yes, you are excited, aren’t you?” he asked me. He sought my
spot and brushed a thumb over it. He had callouses on his hands. He
treated me roughly, not asking my name or showing me any emotion, simply
grabbing my cunt and opening it.
“I--” There was nothing I could say. I knew he would be
uncompromising with me. I felt a sudden panic. The housekeeper slapped
my bottom.
He kept one hand on my cunny but put the other beneath my chin
and lifted it. He kissed my lips. “You will do well here,” he told
me. “We will teach you what you need to know.”
“I don’t need to know anything,” I begged. But he didn’t
listen. He picked me up in his arms and I kicked and screamed as he
carried me bodily through his house. His shirt was made from hemp and
it felt demanding against my skin, a rough fabric, not smooth and soft
like everything was at Jasmine’s, but manly and rough.
I was taken outside to the porch on their backyard. A blanket
had been thrown down on the concrete and I saw, to my utter shock, a dog
food bowl on the porch with my name on it. “Kelly,” it proclaimed, and
beside it was a dish with fresh water.
“Such a sweet pet. Thank you for buying me a little pet,” the
housekeeper said to my master.
“She’s a stray, I think,” my master replied.
“Yes, a stray. But we will teach her obedience,” the woman
replied.
As the sun set into the distant sea, sinking slowly, the
Pacific swallowing it up as if it were a red plum, they began to teach
me tricks.
THE END
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Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Dungeon of Desire
Chapter One
Jasmine had told me to meet him. Or had she ordered me? I
liked to think she’d ordered me, now that I reflected upon it. Yes,
she’d ordered me. I’d had no choice. But of course I’d had, hadn’t I?
I didn’t anymore.
She’d told me he’d be cruel with me. Much, much crueler than
anything I’d ever experienced before. I’d played with rabbits up ‘til
now, she’d assured me. And she’d ordered me. Yes.
With my nipples offered, my face pale and my lips parted in
wonderment, I let myself be led into his domain. It had been a workroom
once, a place for saws and hammers and chisels. But it had evolved.
The old owner had died and Master had moved in. The pinup calendar had
been replaced with a real woman.
I tossed my hair as he confronted me. I tried to look brave.
Inside, my tummy was melting with passion and terror. I tried to stick
out my belly to look more childish, to win his compassion. But I was
too thin. My ribs lined my sides. My hips were slim, curving out just
enough to justify my 16th birthday, but no more. My legs were sexy
Barbi legs, long and sleek and tapering deftly inward to where my ankles
met my stiff, confining heels. I stumbled. His housekeeper caught my
arm. In my stumbling my bosoms, big as melons, wiggled. They teased
him with the stiffness of my nipples.
MAGAZINE REVIEWS
by holy joe
Playboy’s Book of Lingerie, January/February 1998, $6.95. Web:
http://www.playboy.com
Review: In the 1980’s it was customary to do the following:
1. Grab hold of a guy. 2. Define him as a “pervert” (pedophile, child
molester, sexual harasser, rapist, etc.) 3. Incarcerate him. and,
finally, in the style of the Inquisition, to 4. Pry into his mind.
This will not be necessary in my case. All that prying into
mens’ minds costs a lot of money. As a male, I may be a “suspicious
person” (and “stranger” and “suspect”) but I’m still worried about our
government’s deficit. I feel it is my patriotic duty to publish FUCK
DECENCY. If holy joe ever winds up in the clink, they can just download
my magazine, instead of shelling out lots of money for fancy
psychiatrists.
Time and again, however, publishing my little zine, I’ve come
across this amazing fact: my mind is the mind of the American male.
Consider this issue of Playboy’s Book of Lingerie. It’s called
the “Readers’ Choice Top 20 Supermodels.” I had nothing to do with
putting this magazine together. There was a vote taken, and I didn’t
even vote. (Typical American, eh?) However, despite having nothing to
do with this magazine, every one of my favorite girls is featured in
it. They are even featured in the order that I would list them, if I
were editing the magazine.
First up is Tiffany Taylor. There is no question that she is
the prettiest new Playboy girl of the year. She has a soft chin, a
small nose, full lips, and nice large eyes. She has lovely long hair.
Her body is perfect: large, ripe breasts, a small waist, flat tummy,
and long legs. She looks a little older now than she did when she first
appeared in Playboy’s College Girls last spring (alas!) but she is still
the most perfectly formed girl in the ‘Playboy Stable’ this year.
(Any Playboy models who disagree with that assessment are free
to stop by my dumpster for a personal re-evaluation!)
In her pictorial in this issue, Tiffany wanders along a beach
in rags, looking like a sexy version of ‘the little matchstick girl’.
What a delight to look at her! I do wish, however, that she was doing
something racier than just staring out to sea. Why not dig up some
buried treasure? Perhaps a chest full of ancient dildoes, vibrators,
and cans of whipped cream!
Following close on the heels of Tiffany is Shae Marks.
Unfortunately, Shae looks a lot older now than when she appeared in
Playboy several years back as a Playmate of the Month. Here’s some
advice for the girls at Playboy: a) don’t gain weight. b) don’t lose
weight, and c) for God’s sake, don’t get older! Shae poses in a weird
sort of bondage uniform, that looks like it’s made out of duct tape.
Unfortunately, it’s not very erotic to look at. In my opinion, it lacks
authenticity. If you’re going to go for a bondage look, Shae, buy a
*real* bondage costume and put that on. This is sort of a half-assed
costume, in my opinion. (Though I do like seeing her tits hanging out
of it, and wondering what it felt like wedged up between her legs!)
Following Shae is Sung Hi Lee. God, what a sexy pictorial...
and a sexy girl too! Sung called me and told me what this pictorial is
about:
“I was hanging around with James Bond. We were staying in a
hotel together. One morning I slipped out of bed early for a quick swim
in the hotel pool. I wore my best yellow lingerie, since I didn’t have
my bikini with me. I figured nobody would see me. Plus, it was a very
elegant hotel, and the help at such places doesn’t mind if a cute girl
like me goes swimming in her lingerie, especially during off-hours.
“Unfortunately, the help, while not minding seeing me in my
lingerie, also didn’t mind taking money from the Mafia. The help told
the Mafia I was in the pool. They captured me and took me away to their
Mafia headquarters where they ordered me to tell them where they could
find James.
“That’s me, at the Mafia headquarters, wearing just my yellow
panties and bra. They’re trying to get me to tell, but I’m refusing.
So they’re making me undress, if I won’t be a good girl and tell them
where James is.”
The next set of photos of Sung is even sexier. I’ll let you
guess what that white stuff is in the glass, that the Mafia dons are
forcing her to drink!
Now, on to the next pictorial.
Ahhhh, what would life be without photos of Jacqueline Marie
lowering her panties to show off her bottom? Her photos follow Sung’s.
Unfortunately, several things have happened to Jackeline since her
appearance in Playboy’s Lingerie Model Search.
a) She’s gotten a fat ass.
b) She’s pierced her navel.
c) She’s cut her darling ‘spoiled brat’ hair, leaving her with
ordinary-looking hair.
Still, I do enjoy seeing Jacqueline Marie show me her bottom as
she takes off her undies. And she has a very nice face, and wonderful
bosoms to boot. If you want to know what it would be like to
breast-feed from one of her bosoms, just turn to page 27!
Alley Baggett is up next. Unfortunately, in addition to
getting older, she’s turned her hair all frizzy. She gives us a sexy
pictorial, but that frizzy hair really turns me off. She looks like a
Black woman who’s a Spanish dancer. Here’s a tip for Playboy’s girls:
if you look like a normal, natural American girl, stay that way. Don’t
go frizzing your hair and making yourself look like some harlot who
dances to foreign tunes. In Alley’s case, despite her Spanish blood,
she *was* a very natural-looking, American girl. Not any more. She
still manages to be quite sexy in her pictorial, however.
Ah, Priscilla Taylor! Her pictorial isn’t very sexy, but she
does epitomize the All-American blonde. She admits to being
“self-centered” (pg. 38), which is what I guess you are if you’re a
walking Barbi doll. (Actually, girls, we men don’t mind, provided you
like us and we can afford you.)
If you would like to know what it would be like to have a young
wife, check out Maria Checa. Her pictorial is next, and it has a
wonderful intimacy to it. She shows off her breasts while letting a
teddy bear dangle from her fingertips. She kneels on a bed, caressing
her (soon to be impregnated?) belly. She turns and pulls up her nightie
and shows off her pantied bottom. If that isn’t enough, check out her
nipples. They appear to have been painted a little, with something,
leaving them their natural color but giving them a lovely soft shine.
There’s even a picture of her pulling down the front of her nightie,
laughing. Is she saying, as she exposes one of her breasts, “Look,
darling! I put some rouge on my tits!” A delightful pictorial.
Well, I don’t want to waste any more valuable jack-off time. I
think I mentioned all the models in this magazine. However, if I did
miss any, please stop by my dumpster and let me know! I don’t believe
in leaving anyone out. I know how important it is for an up-and-coming
young model to get all the publicity she can. And just think, when I
mention you, you can tell all your friends, “I was in a magazine by Hugh
Hefner, and one by holy joe too!”
an afternoon in Reykjavik
by Bohdan Kot
the sun will not go down.
three days here without any sleep.
the time was noon
and she slipped into my
blue bedroom.
i was eating a chocolate bar
which she finished.
then i undressed and
began to lick her
perfect pussy.
AND IN THE END...
“A perfectly romantic night for me would include cool music,
candles, silk sheets, scented pillows, mirrors and a video camera.”
- some girl who might have gotten left out of my review, pg. 61.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-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 327 EMISSION
- “[Playboy Supermodel] seeks man to celebrate all facets of my
personality. He will receive home-cooked meals, laughter and lots of
passion (Ibid, pg. 47.).”
That’s all it takes, feminists! - h.j.
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