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Subject: FUCK DECENCY 336 Dungeon of Desire NND g2
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Define ‘cultural pollution’
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: Crab the dog
Issue No. 336
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Dungeon of Desire
Chapter Two
“Now that we’ve cleaned up your face, let’s clean out your
cunny,” Miriam smiled at me. She told me to get up on the table. By
now Sharon had served most of the ladies the sperm-laden punch, and it
seemed a new use was to be made of the bowl.
Jennifer appeared. A man and a woman held her by her hands.
Were they her master and mistress? I couldn’t tell. They told her to
climb up onto the table. She complied. There was a slightly gaunt look
to her face and I guessed she was still as needy as she’d been in the
bedroom; brought to the splitting edge of orgasmic desire, then left
unfulfilled. She seemed to be willing to do whatever was asked of her,
if only its result would be pleasure. Instead, so far at least, she’d
been denied, forced to do things but not rewarded. She looked at me.
Both of us knelt on the table, feeling quite silly, on our hands and
knees with our bottoms up, showing our pumpkin asses to the crowd.
“Both of you, sit with your backs against each other,” Miriam
commanded. We complied. We were new and they loved our newness. We
were the Chosen Two, I guessed, and they’d remember us most when the
night was over. We were young and we squirmed, letting our legs open,
studying our thighs with our eyes, feeling the silken tablecloth beneath
our bottoms.
I was facing the punchbowl. Miriam took the ladle from it. It
brimmed with punch, a few ice cubes floating in it. I watched as she
placed a napkin under me, making me lift my seat so she could slide it
under, all the while holding the ladle aloft. When the tablecloth had
been protected from spills, Miriam poured the ladleful of punch right
onto my pussy.
I gasped. The punch splashed onto my pubic curls and wet the
napkin beneath me. Miriam next took a plastic syringe, passed to her by
Sharon, and filled it in the punch. She inserted it between my cunt
lips. She smiled wickedly at me. I could only stare back at her.
Behind me, Jennifer, still hungry for pleasure, moaned and opened
herself to the prying eyes of the crowd. She wanted, but they gave her
nothing. She was not permitted to touch herself. She arched her back
against mine and let out a little cry of desire.
I, meanwhile, had something up me and Miriam intended to use it
to douche me. She squeezed the big rubber ball at the end of her
syringe. It squirted. I felt a jet of icy punch shoot up inside me and
I cried out. Jennifer, hearing me, shivered against my back, wanting,
needing, yet allowed to have nothing.
Slowly Miriam douched me. She took her time. As napkins were
wettened she put new ones beneath me. I kept having to lift up my tail
to accommodate her. It felt so strange to sit before all these
strangers completely nude, my legs open, being douched.
“You’ll taste delicious,” Miriam assured me. I nodded. I
would taste like punch. Jennifer longed to taste like I did. Or
perhaps even to taste me. I felt her hands sleek back past herself and
rest on my hips.
“Such delightful nipples you have! Would you like me to clamp
them?” a woman asked Jennifer. She made no reply. I heard her keen out
a little cry a moment later, her back tensing against mine, and guessed
she’d been clipped. “They’re florescent. They’ll glow when you dance,”
I heard a woman’s voice murmur.
“Paint her pussy,” a man’s voice said.
“Alright dear,” I heard.
Finishing up my douche, Miriam took up the task of repairing my
makeup. I would have preferred being fresh-faced, cleansed by the
punch, but she insisted I must look my finest. She put new lipstick on
my lips. She brushed out my lashes and pencilled my brows. Meanwhile,
behind me, I heard a little jar opened. Jennifer gripped my bare hips
with her hands and I guessed that the painting of her pussy had begun.
Glancing around me, I saw the guests take up the task of
preparing for the dance. It was a heady sight. Using bristle brushes
intended for female makeup, all the partiers began painting each other’s
loins. The paints were bright yellow or pink or blue, all pastel
colors. Miriam whispered to me that we’d dance under black light.
Jennifer mewled out breathy little gasps as the florescent
paints were applied to her cunny. I guessed those little strokes of the
bristle brush must be driving her crazy. Looking around me, I watched
as ladies subjected their men to the paints. Quivering penises had to
somehow hold back their loads as they were carefully and quietly stroked
by the brushes.
“Yes, dear, you too,” Miriam said to me. She took a brush and
a small glass jar of paint from Sharon and began with my nipples.
“Oh, don’t!” I gasped. The brush was infuriating. Its soft
bristles teased my bare nipples and made them stand up exceedingly
straight.
“Would you prefer I used clamps?” Miriam asked me.
“Oh, Nooo!” I replied. She put the paint to my nipple tips and
swirled it all around my areolas. I was forced to bite my lip and
endure. She moved to my cunny next, painting me slowly and with
inquiring strokes. Each little jab of the brush proved more intrusive.
Carefully she limned my labial lips; they would glow brightly in the
dark. Each tiny pubic curl was coated with florescent paint. My face
would be hidden in the darkness of the dance, but my nipples and my
cunny would flash and shine obscenely.
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When I was prepared, Master appeared. He held a riding crop
with a broad, looped tip. He put it to my cheek and forced me to turn
my face to him. Katy watched, bright eyed, and beside her were two
other men. Master passed the looped tip of the crop across my face and
put it against my lips.
“Kiss it,” he said. “You’ll be feeling it on your ass soon.”
I began to kiss it, fearfully, and then suddenly I opened my lips and
mouthed it. I let it lay upon my tongue and I bit it gently.
“She is a fine young slave,” one of the men murmured
admiringly. I pleased them. I was glad I pleased them. Especially
Master.
Katy took my hand and helped me down off the table. I stood
before my master, looked at him, at Katy, at the others. I touched my
hands to my white bottom and guessed it would be a little uncomfortable
soon. Is this what I had come for? I didn’t know. I didn’t know
anything anymore.
Jennifer appeared beside me. Her breasts were weighed down by
clamps. They bit into her perfect nipples, their greedy little mouths
ridged slightly to make her even more aware of their presence. I
touched a finger to one of the weighted clips.
“Don’t,” Jennifer gasped.
“You’re going to have to dance with those on,” I observed in a
soft, innocent voice.
“I know,” she replied.
The lights were dimmed. All around me females exchanged final
glances at each other’s bottoms. I guessed the whips would fly when the
dance began. We cherished our last moments of comfort. I felt my
cheeks huddling. My palms hugged my hiney. Katy pulled my hands off my
ass.
“Don’t,” she sighed. “You must try to enjoy yourself. Just
dance. Let the men do as they please.”
I heard a pulse-pounding rhythm begin. Kate looked at me, her
face shrouded now, the darkness engulfing her, and she began to dance.
Her movements encouraged me. I began to move to the rhythm also.
“Keep the whips low,” I heard Miriam call out. “No hitting
above the belt!”
A shriek came to my ears. Some poor girl had gotten her hiney
whacked. I slowed my dancing but Kate touched my wrist and indicated I
must keep up with her. Together, facing each other, we began to dance
like Bacchae.
A black light illuminated us. I watched as Kate’s nipples,
painted exquisitely as my own, bounced in the eerie light. Beneath her
belly her pubic curls shone. My own bosoms, colored with bright yellow
neon, jounced and jiggled on my chest as I moved ever more quickly and
freely. I let my arms fly out and I pushed my chest forward so that it
offered my breasts to any who watched. I let my ass wriggle behind me
and tried to forget that my Master held a stiff crop. Beside me,
dancing a little more slowly, Jennifer moved. She looked down at her
breasts and watched as they swung with their weighted tips, the clamps
eagerly hugging her, making her feel their teeth even as she was forced
to respond to the music.
It was a cool song. Another followed, the very latest stuff,
making me happy despite my worst fears. All around me, as the music
heightened, I heard swift cracks and blurted screams. We were victims,
all of us, and there was no hope for us. Katy let out a little howl as
she received her first blow. I danced more quickly. I knew my bottom
had tempted many men and they wouldn’t let me escape much longer.
“Yeeeowch!” Jennifer yelped as somebody, moving in the
darkness, his penis bright and his balls illuminated, struck her with
his crop.
And then me! A searing line of heat smacked quickly and
decisively against my tushy, making me offer a scream of my own.
The base of the music deepened. Another slash, from somebody,
stuck Kate’s behind. She howled and I sensed tears came to her eyes. I
was hit again. My scream joined hers. Jennifer whined as she was
smacked yet again. Her big bosoms juddered. She was desperate for love
but all they would give her was punishment.
VIDEO REVIEW
by holy joe
Playboy’s Sex on the Beach, $19.95. VHS Tape, Color, 57 minutes. PBV
0826. Playboy: 1-800-423-9494. Playboy: www1.playboy.com/catalog/
Review: Once again I am trying to review a video which I don’t
really want to watch a second time. (I did buy this video, by the way.
I didn’t just rent it and then have to take it back.)
I was disappointed with this video. I was sitting in my
dumpster, trying to jack off to it. It was going along and then, well,
it ended. I found myself sitting there, saying, “What?! It’s over?!”
So I had to spend the rest of the day looking out my window at the
playground across the street. Unfortunately, none of the girls on the
playground were naked.
What do I remember from this video, since I don’t want to have
to go to the trouble of watching it again?
Well, first off, there is some new camera work in this video.
Playboy has learned how to really get up close to a girl and take long,
loving shots of her. I have never seen camera work like this in a
Playboy video, though I did see camera work like it in a video starring
Chasey Lain. (“This is the butthole, men! Look!”)
In Playboy’s case, the camera doesn’t focus in on the butthole,
but rather on the girl’s nipples. There are some tremendous nipple
shots in this video. If I wasn’t a member of AARP I might have been
able to get off on them. (Which, by the way, stands for the ‘American
Association of Retarded People.’ I don’t want you thinking I’m an old
fart.)
So, anyway, picture this attractive young female, wet, standing
in the ocean, half in and half out of her bikini, and a camera that
takes long, loving shots up between her legs, along her tummy, and
finally up to her tits, which are naked and hard. That’s the sort of
camera work you see. It’s a great improvement over the old Playboy
videos. In the old Playboy videos, they’d set the camera half a mile
back from the girl and tell her, “We’re going to play a dumb song.
Dance around to it.” And she’d do some stupid, made-up dance, that
wasn’t sexy.
The other thing I remember from this video, that’s worth
mentioning, is a segment of a girl getting a massage. I’ll start with
the interesting part: A blonde walks up to a young female masseuse and
together they go into a small beach shack. The best shot in the whole
video occurs next. You see them begin to undress, inside the shack.
The blonde casts a sideways glance at the bed where she will be
massaged. It is a white bed. It is covered only by a single sheet,
over the mattress. There is no second sheet, or any blanket. That
shot, of the girl about to strip, glancing over at the bed, is the
sexiest shot in the whole video.
In a Steve Martin film he once stopped by a beach shack that
gave enemas. How wonderful it would have been for the blonde to get on
the bed and get an enema! She wouldn’t have to get a real enema. The
whole thing could be faked, with clever camera work. It would still be
a Playboy video, with Playboy-quality girls, and Playboy-quality film,
but with the sexiness of one girl giving the other an enema. Instead,
of course, we don’t get that. We get a boring massage scene. I’ve seen
any number of Playboy massage videos and this scene is nothing special.
Too bad.
That’s about all I remember from this video. The main problem
with it is that it’s segmented into various segments. You sit there
going, “Ho hum, here’s the next segment.” At least with Playboy’s
Erotic Underground video there was a sense of uncertainty. There is no
uncertainty at all in this video.
I loved the box that this video came in. However, I don’t
remember seeing the girls on the box in the video inside the box. Also,
the scene on the front of the box does not occur anywhere inside.
If you’re 13 (or younger) and have never seen a Playboy video,
you may like this one. Otherwise, it is sadly like many, many other
Playboy videos that have come down the pike. The only thing I could
recommend it for is to study the camera work. That, at least, is worth
studying, and incorporating into your own video work, if you do videos
of your own.
Anon
by Nichole Grabe
The vines bend like clever minds,
Against the break of summertime and inside
The winds beat unholy hymns as the cars thunder by,
Reading a book once considered cruel, you know now
It was really innocent. You type at the keyboard naked.
Hopeless with your thoughts this cold sunny day with the ice-chill
Of the devil wind as you call up your fear again.
Sticky with blue, they crawl about you.
And in your head the song that might not let you dream again.
You are maskless and without face,
You are timeless under the pounding of saws and axes on the wall,
Of construction time which takes forever,
You breathe of the past,
The colors of the waiting time,
All fuzzed.
It is hard to form another idea unless they come.
They are fire red eyed hope to find you with their sharp hands,
Many hands and many hearts bleeding,
The shadow is a friend for there they do not see you.
You burn your books because you are cold.
And with this your heart goes dead.
It spins and the world closes.
So much to drown a person, so much to drown.
You take the bag of letters and wrap them up in a bag,
And cast them into the smiling seas with their grabbing charms,
You take your childhood out for a swim,
In your suit of Spanish blue and your dead heart of irony,
You follow it to the bottom of the dankest reef and twirl your hair
Into a piece of heavy pink coral so nice,
So pink and so delicate like a sweet child, a perfect baby,
An infant who kills you.
AND IN THE END...
A picture’s worth a thousand words. This issue contains 2,995
words.
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-END OF 336 EMISSION Celebrate Pedophile Heritage Month!
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