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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 346 Dungeon of Desire NND g2
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“Full joy I feel, while thus I cleave the air,
That my soft verse will charm thy daughters fair,
And warm thy sons!”
- John Keats, To My Brother George, lines 107-109.
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 346
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Dungeon of Desire
Chapter Four
“Why Kelly,” Katy smiled. Her eyes were wide for a Japanese,
but she narrowed them as she spoke, inscrutably, showing not anger nor
surprise, but a kind of controlled passion, even rage. Catlike, she
licked her lips. They were red but with perhaps just a touch of a
smear, as if she’d been kissing. “Come in, please, both of you,” Katy
invited us. “It’s much too hot to stay outside.”
We stepped in the cool interior of her home. Her Master’s
home, for I guessed he owned it outright, to make her more subservient.
I did not know where fantasies ended and reality began with them,
anymore, though I’d guessed at it earlier. But I knew he would never
let her own the house itself. It must be his, though she might own the
pretty things inside it.
“Sauron and I were just sitting down to a private Japanese tea
ceremony,” Katy explained. Her hair was done up in Japanese style. A
loose strand or two hung down, additional evidence that Dick and I had
interrupted something that involved more than just the drinking of tea.
“Please join us, but let me take you to the bedroom first, for civilian
clothes are not permitted in a real ceremony.” She took Dick’s hand.
Her touch was light but once she had his hand in her grasp she held it
like a cat holds its kitten. Possessively, and not letting go for
anything.
“What’s your name, Sir?” Katy asked Dick. He told her. She
smiled, noticed the bulge in his shorts. She did not challenge his name
as I had. She accepted it. She led him deeper into the house and he,
holding my hand, made me follow.
The bedroom had a large, sumptuous bed but no bathroom. Katy
explained that it was the guest bedroom and that any guests who stayed
here used either a chamberpot or, not wishing to empty that in the
morning, went down the hall to the master bedroom and peed in its
attached bath. I suppressed a smile. I could just imagine Sauron,
lying in the murk of his darkened bedroom as a young female guest
slipped inside to go use his bathroom. He would hear her pee, of
course, and her male guest would be just as audible when he had to go.
I had no doubt that Sauron would forbid them using the sound of faucet
water, or a ceiling fan, to block their bodily sounds in the toilet. He
enjoyed making people uncomfortable. It was his lure. Perhaps he shut
off the water in the master bath at night, even the line leading to the
toilet, and perhaps it had no ceiling fan, just an open window. I did
not know. I had not been in the master bath but I guessed it was as
insidious as Sauron could make it.
In our guest bedroom the curtains were drawn. They were of
blue damask, their patterns intertwining. They blocked out the light of
afternoon, the blazing sun outside reduced to just a sliver between the
drawn curtains.
Beside the bed, which was made up and looking quite proper, its
coverlet sleeping atop it, tassels hanging neatly down by the floor, was
a nightstand. Upon it brooded ointments and moisturizers. Everything
was calm in here, in the shaded bedroom, except the fluttered beating of
my heart.
“Undress please,” Katy ordered. There was a looped-tip riding
crop lying across a dresser and she picked it up. She held it with
utmost delicacy, as if it might bite her. Then, fixing her eyes on
Dick, she lofted the tip of the crop to her mouth and gently bit it.
Unbuttoning my hot pants, I smiled at Dick. He and I were
about to share a most unusual experience together. He’d never come here
if I hadn’t insisted. And now, knowing I was in for it with Sauron, I
nonetheless savored his nervous Officer hands as he unzipped himself.
Katy too, I think, was in awe of him. She’d seen his impressive thing
last night and longed to greet it once more, this time more intimately.
I did not mind letting her have a little of him. As I pushed my tight
shorts down my smoothly tanned thighs I guessed I’d find it impossible
not to watch her blow-jobbing him. If I could. I couldn’t be sure of
Sauron. But between myself and Katy we could have quite a lot of fun.
And I knew she’d do things to him, that I’d get to see, that I’d never
in my wildest dreams be able to think of.
And then I knew why I’d come here. To feel Sauron in me while
I watched poor Dick suffer exquisitely sexual punishments in the
delicate hands of Katy...
COMMENTARY
by holy joe
I hate criticizing people. Especially when they may be right.
Recently, I saw a news report in which feminists complained that Barbie,
the doll, must be radically altered. The reason? Because the feminists
say Barbie doesn’t look like real females.
I have decided to do an experiment. The purpose of this
experiment will be to find out whether or not Barbie looks like real
females.
First, I will need some real females. Being a lone male, I
naturally run the risk of being called a “child molester,” “stalker,” or
“sexual harasser” if I go out into the real world and try to encounter
real females. So, to keep from being prosecuted and imprisoned for
life, I shall instead rely for my experiment on real females, as they
appear in magazines.
Let’s see... where can I find a magazine with lots of females
in it? Hmmm. Not in any feminist publication. Those just contain
boring articles.
Hmmmm....
Hey! Here’s a magazine:
Playboy’s Book of Lingerie, March/April 1998, $6.95. Web:
http://www.playboy.com
Wow! This magazine is just what I need. It’s nothing but wall
to wall females. Even better, they’re naked, which means we’ll see them
as they really are, unobscured by clothing!
O.K. Let’s get this experiment started.
I am going to open this magazine at random, and inspect the
female revealed, to find out whether or not she looks like Barbie.
Here goes...
Page 66 features Tiffany Taylor. She has long hair... just
like Barbie! She has a soft, flawless face... just like Barbie! She
has broad, but pretty shoulders... just like Barbie! She has huge,
glorious bosoms... just like Barbie! She has a tiny waist... just like
Barbie! She has slender, shapely hips, that are narrower than her
shoulders... just like Barbie! She has a round bottom... just like
Barbie! And, despite being only 5 feet 7 inches in height, she has
long, slender legs... just like Barbie!
As we can see, there is no need to alter Barbie, the doll.
Because she does, in fact, look like a real female.
Our score is now:
Men: 1
Feminists: 0
Let’s randomly pick another female from this magazine:
Page 72 features Kristine McKaden. She has long, blonde
hair... just like Barbie! She has a perfect face... just like Barbie!
She has big bosoms... just like Barbie!
I could go on, but I think you’re getting the point. Feminists
need to buy this magazine. They need to look it over very carefully
before they make any more criticisms of Barbie, the doll. They need to
ask themselves this question: “Are there any females in Playboy’s Book
of Lingerie who *don’t* look like Barbie?” I think I know the answer,
already. It’s ‘no.’ Except for very minor variations, ALL the females
in this magazine look like Barbie!
Who doesn’t look like Barbie? Feminists! So they complain
about a doll, because *they* don’t look like her.
Ladies, please! Do you hear us guys complaining day and night
because we don’t look like G.I. Joe? Of course not! We either live
with it or, if we’re really freaked out about it, we join a health club
and lift weights.
(You need to be a woman, I guess, to waste your time writing to
a toy company complaining about what kind of dolls they make.)
Now that I’ve finished my experiment, let me take a moment to
offer some interpretive guidance for my fellow men about these photos in
Playboy’s Book of Lingerie:
Tiffany Taylor: According to God, who looks like an 8-year-old
version of (you guessed it) Barbie, here’s what’s happening in Tiffany’s
pictorial (pages 66-67):
God: “These are photos from the upcoming movie, ‘Interview
with the Vampire 2.’ In this movie, Tom Cruise is a vampire. He sees
Tiffany and decides to seduce her and drink her blood. What he doesn’t
know is that Tiffany’s a vampire too. In her case, unbeknownst to Tom,
she survives by drinking the blood of vampires! Tom’s in for a big
surprise when Tiffany invites him to share her bed!”
God on Kristine McKaden, pages 72-73: “Kristine is very pretty
and decided to pose naked for Playboy. Unfortunately, her daddy found
out about it. In these photos, he’s taking her out to the woodshed to
give her a spanking. She’s smiling, though, because she knows her daddy
secretly likes her better than her her mom.”
(For more on Kristine’s plight, read the Victorian novel
Beatrice, from Grove Press:
“We shall go to the attic,” Father said. His hand held mine --
enclasped and covered it...
With slow care I removed my dress, my underskirt... Father
moved behind me... His palm smacked first one cheek and then the other.
“Oh! no more!” I gasped. (pages 10-12, Beatrice.)
God on Lisa Boyle, pages 16-17: “Lisa’s found out there’s
trouble in Candyland. Of course, things are different in Candyland than
they are in our world. Lisa’s outfitted herself with all the gear you
need to be a Candyland Commando. She’s got on her tight red panties,
her peppermint-striped shirt, her cherry red heels, and, most
importantly, she has two magical lollipops and a teddy bear strapped to
her back.
“Either that, or she’s applying for a job as a White House
intern.”
(For more on Lisa, surf to: http://www.lisa-boyle.com
God on Alley Baggett, pages 34 and 35: “Though she’s only 5
feet 2 inches in height, even Alley looks like Barbie! She’s trying on
her brand new pink panties. Her boyfriend bought them for her as a
birthday present. They’re so small they stick in her butt. They have
drawstrings that a flick of a finger will open. But her boyfriend
doesn’t mind...”
(Excuse me, I had a small accident looking at Alley... -h.j.)
God on Samantha Laurent, pages 80-83: “Her party started out
very formal and elegant, with everyone wearing lace masks over their
eyes. But when dinner’s over, it’s time for dessert! Samantha offers
herself, bereft of clothing, on top of the dinner table. Nobody
complains about being a cannibal.”
God on Judi Krant, pages 74-75: “She’s wondering whether or
not she wants to try on something new her boyfriend bought her. No, not
a bra. Nipple clamps.”
God on Jamelah Asmar, pages 70-71: “Her mom’s waiting outside
while she tries on underwear in a department store dressing room. Like
me, she gets carried away, vamping in front of the mirror instead of
just seeing if her undies will fit.”
God on Bethany Lorraine, cover and pages 1, 3-5: “She’s having
a naughty party for her closest friends, both male and female! It’s too
bad her parents got in a fight on their second honeymoon and are coming
home early...”
I hope nobody is upset by my revelation that God is an
8-year-old girl. I know there has been a big argument going on about
whether God is a man, or a woman. You might be surprised to find out
that God is neither! Consider this, though: when your daughter plays
with her Barbie dolls, isn’t she playing God? If we humans can play
with dolls, who’s to say we humans aren’t, ourselves, the playthings for
some God-like, extraterrestrial child? (After all, the Bible says that
God made us out of mud. Who do you know that plays in mud? Adults, or
children?)
My belief that God is an 8-year-old girl would solve many
theological problems. For instance, have you ever seen your daughter be
mean to her dolls? This would explain why we have problems here on
earth. Our God, being an 8-year-old girl, sometimes gets pissed. She
creates storms, and mudslides, and earthquakes. Sometimes she gets
bored, and leaves us to our own devices. That’s when we have things
like the Holocaust.
I realize that not everyone will accept the fact that God is an
8-year-old girl. Feminists, in particular, will probably be incensed to
learn that they’re just playthings for a child! But when you consider
that women have had to cook, and clean, and keep house for most of
history, now you know why: it’s because some little girl is playing
with us, her dollies!
dildo
by Michael Hafer
“it’s too big,”
you say,
seeing it
for the first time.
“i wanted something
smaller.”
but, the stores
are closed
and it’s
valentine’s night,
so we must do
the best we can.
with the right amount
of goop
the toy slides in.
with the flick
of a switch,
it comes to life.
first you say,
“it hurts,”
and then you say
the electricity
has given you a shock,
but then
the big one
washes over you
and your doubts
are swept aside,
and i no longer worry
about second string
quarterbacks
bumming a ride
on your tail
cause technology
can satisfy
any player
who’s got
the desire
and the batteries.
AND IN THE END...
“All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.”
- Shakespeare, As You Like it, Act 2, Scene 7.
-------------------------- 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 346 EMISSION
“Even as a little girl I was fascinated by my dad’s Playboy
magazines. From then on I wanted to be a Playmate. I loved to play
dress up and pose for myself in front of a mirror,” says Laurie Langdon
on page 92 of Playboy’s Book of Lingerie. (Laurie, pictured on pages
36, 37, 48, and 49 is a blonde, has long hair, and looks just like
Barbie.
(And as a little girl, she looked just like God! -h.j.)
--
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