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Subject: FUCK DECENCY 352 Dungeon of Desire NND g2
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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Still Searching?
http://www.barnesandnoble.com
Issue No. 352
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Dungeon of Desire
Chapter Four
“You have to undress too,” Katy told Jennifer. “You’re just
the servant girl. Do you think you can stay clothed while we’re
naked?” Katy smiled at her and walked quickly over to her. Katy would
make sure that Jennifer played her role completely, and she would see
that Jennifer was rewarded, in the end, if she did. Of that I was
sure. I watched as Katy unbuttoned the lone button at the top of
Jennifer’s blouse. It was the only button that Katy had been permitted
to be closed during the entire tea ceremony. Emitting a little cry of
despair, Jennifer, her bottom already showing signs of having been
punished, watched as Katy drew her blouse off her slim arms. She was
left as bereft as we. She huddled her arms over her bosoms and closed
her thighs. Katy folded her blouse and went and laid it on top of my
robe.
Could we escape? I doubted it. I was sure Katy had locked the
cellar door. Yet, was there perhaps a key someplace that could open
it? I did not know. I didn’t want to run anyplace without Dick. I
felt butterflies rise up in my tummy as I sauntered over to him, quite
naked now, both of us naked, and quietly took his hand. I felt like we
were Adam and Eve. We acknowledged each other with just our fingertips,
our hands pressing together. We gazed out at all the rare and devilish
equipment that lay waiting to test and tease our nude bodies. I could
hardly tear my eyes from it all and I felt my breath coming in gasps as
I contemplated it. My bosoms rose and fell on my chest. My pussy
tingled. Dick’s big, well-formed penis stuck out like a post,
quivering, still wet from being in Katy’s mouth.
There is a certain thrill, I think, in stripping nude in a
dungeon. You take off your clothes as if for a bath, but instead there
is no tub and no bathwater. Just big machines and strange evil-looking
devices. I squeezed Dick’s hand hard. But he did not respond. He was
dumb-struck by the thought of challenging all this equipment with just
his bare body and his big, powerful penis.
Katy tossed back her mane of black hair and strode up behind
myself and Dick as we stood enthralled by the dungeon, peering into it,
wondering. How strange to be invited into a place where the dress code
consisted of nudity, and where so many items of the furniture looked
designed to test those parts of the body least seen: nipples, lips,
holes (however tightly closed). And for the male, his testicles might
be given a challenge; and his penis, of course. So much of what was
expected in the real world was turned on its head here. Katy put a palm
to each of our bottoms and urged us forward. I tried to walk with light
steps. I looked down at my feet and let my hair fall into my face. It
would protect me. I would be blonde hair and it would shield me, this
tumbling mane of long lovely streamers. I felt concealed within it; yet
with Katy’s palm ingratiating itself within the crack of my bare bottom
I knew I was telling myself lies that my ass, at least, couldn’t
believe.
“This is the wall,” Katy said from behind. Her voice was all
softness and Japanese gentleness. I dared myself to look up. There,
several feet in front of me, stood a plyboard structure that had been
built as an outcrop from the real stone wall of the dungeon. It was
sturdily constructed and was bolted firmly to both floor and ceiling.
The wood was smooth, with a light gloss of polish upon it, letting the
natural beige color of the wood show through.
A glory hole offered itself for Dick’s penis. A bench ran in
front of the wall, with no back to it. I quickly saw, as did dick, to
his penis’s surprise, that he might be pushed forward and made to kneel
on the bench and forced (or inspired) to stick his penis in the glory
hole. Slipping from behind us, Katy took fetched a big fluffy pink
towel. She advanced to the bench and, bending over to show us the
splendor of her nude bottom, spread the pink towel out on the bench,
folding it, so that it offered a cushion for the knees. She stepped
away and admired her handiwork.
“There’s no reason to be uncomfortable just because you’re in
the dungeon,” she smiled at Dick and me. Then she pranced back around
behind us. Giving each of our asses a quick slap, she impelled us
forward.
I found myself looking down at the bench, through the mass of
my fallen hair, my belly moving softly, flat but expanding and
contracting inward with my anxious breaths. My bosoms offered their
tips. My pussy, snug between my legs, contemplated the soft towel on
the bench and wondered if spendings from my crotch might soon stain the
fabric.
And then I looked up. No! Twin glory holes created for my
nipples waited. I bent a little, looking curiously, with that awful
fear I felt getting a paper back from my teacher in school, not wanting
to look at the grade she’d given me but HAVING to, just having to know!
Within the twin little holes created for my nipples were little rings, a
row of them, vaginal-like, offering to take my nipples within themselves
and then clamp down on them...hard. I had no illusions that it would be
hard. Behind the board, out of my view, was a screw mechanism that
could be twisted to close the rings upon themselves until they held my
nipples securely.
And it would be just the nipples. My nipples. Not the areola
or the rest of my breast, just the very tip. If I was behaved, of
course, I could never suffer, or even be put into these awful holes.
But I wasn’t behaved. My nipples were big and stiff and hungry. And,
beside me, contemplating his own glory hole, his male hole, stood my
boyfriend Dick. His cock was like a giant sausage, bobbing freely on
the air. You’d think he’d be happy with just that, but he’d been
displaying his penis to us girls all through the tea ceremony and now
his hips shuddered and his buttocks tensed repeatedly as he longed to
have his penis held captive and squeezed.
“Up, you two! Get up on the bench!” Katy told us. Like
swimmers mounting the blocks to begin a race, my boyfriend and I climbed
up onto the bench. For him, it was merely a matter of lifting his
knees. I had to press my hands to the bench, partly out of
gracefulness, wanting to stay fine and perfect and feminine in all my
movements, partly because the bench was high for me and I had to climb
on it, like an Incan maiden preparing herself for ritual slaughter.
BARE AT THE BOOKSTORE
by holy joe
A Place in the Sun, by David Hamilton, $39.95. Hardcover. Many color
pages. Web: http://www.barnesandnoble.com
Review: We live in a diverse society. There are all kinds of
people in America. I enjoy this book. I think it’s a wonderful book.
But some people say they don’t like David Hamilton’s work. Some, most
notably right-wing Christians, have even called it “kiddie porn.”
Hence, on the controversial subject of “kiddie porn,” I felt it was
incumbent upon me to get a second opinion. (For my opinion on David
Hamilton’s A Place in the Sun, see the previous issue of this zine.)
Some years ago, I was listening to a university professor. The
following question was posed to him: “Why are Jews smarter than other
people?” His response: “Jews may be smarter than other people because
dumb Jews self-select themselves out of the race.” (A true story, by
the way, told by a Jewish professor, which is why I feel free to repeat
it.)
So, today I was thinking, “What about fundamentalist
Christians?” They profess being “born-again,” which is necessarily a
self-selected group. I don’t see anything unnatural in David Hamilton’s
A Place in the Sun, but then I don’t go running off to church every
Sunday, obsessed with Sin. (Or the desire to raise controversy in order
to have a fundraising ploy.)
Today, I broke with tradition. Instead of going to Tower
Books, I went to church. After the service, I pigeonholed a Christian.
I showed him my book, David Hamilton’s A Place in the Sun. I flipped
through the pictures and asked him to tell me what he saw. (He asked
that I not refer to him by name, so I’ll call him Peter Prude):
pp: Paganism! That’s what I see!
hj: This is just the cover.
pp: Yes! But there are two young girls on that cover, both of them
topless!
hj: You can only see their backs...
pp: But I know what they have in front! Twin pairs of pert, firm,
half-formed bosoms! And probably with stiff nipples too, if that sea
water is chilly!
hj: So, like, how does that cause you to see Paganism? Nudity, maybe,
but...
pp: It’s like in that horrible book I had to read in college. By that
man... that HEATHEN! What was his name? I know the first letter is
just like that book, The Story of O !
hj: Ovid?
pp: Yes! That’s him! Those two girls on the cover of this book by
David Hamilton, they look like two nymphs straight out of Ovid’s
Metamorphoses! And the whole book is filled with them, I’ll bet! Water
nymphs, wood nymphs, dryads, sprites! A universe of pagans, all UNsaved
by the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ!
hj: Good God! Sold in a 20th Century bookstore, no less.
pp: Yes! Imagine! When they could stock their whole store with
Bibles, instead they give over shelf-space to Paganism?! We’ll get a
law passed against that, you can be sure of it!
hj: Praise the Lord, Brother! (I had to pretend to be one of them,
dear reader, in order to get honest answers.)
pp: Yes! May the Lord God strike down Barnes and Noble for selling
such a SINFUL book, with pictures of Pagans in it! Nude Pagans! Let me
see the rest of that book, brother! We must examine every picture, to
ensure that we are fully apprised of the debased nature of its
contents. We don’t want to be ignorant of the ways of the Devil!
hj: Certainly not! Let’s have at this book, by God! Here, look at
this! Page 25!
pp: It’s a damn beach! Do you think I want to look at a damn beach?
Where are the girls? I want to see naked, under age, lithe, supple
minors!
hj: Sorry. Let me flip to another page... Ooops! No girls here on
page 23, either...
pp: Ahah! A flower!
hj: Sorry...
pp: No need to apologize, brother! See? A flower! David Hamilton is
promoting the homosexual lifestyle!
hj: He is?
pp: Whenever you see a flower in an Art book, it’s coded language,
intended to convey acceptance for the lifestyle of fags and sodomites!
hj: Are you sure?
pp: Friend, you obviously are new to our Christian faith. Let me tell
you something. Ninety-nine percent of our followers will never see this
book. Heck, it’s probably *sold out* in most stores. But they DO read
the fundraising letters we send them. So, if you see a flower in an Art
book, it *automatically* qualifies as gay propaganda.
hj: Oh, I see. You find a bunch of gullible, paranoid people, send
them lies, and they send you money.
pp: Yes! But you must think up a new issue each year. You can’t just
stay with one thing. Plus, it must be something you can claim is
outrageous! An outrage! Otherwise they don’t send in their money.
hj: Praise the Lord!
pp: Show me some more pictures, brother! I want to see some girls!
hj: Ah, yes. Hmmm, page 36... Ooops. It’s just a bunch of huts...
pp: PRIMITIVE huts! He’s promoting multi-culturalism! A communist,
hippie/yuppie philosophy, designed to undermine our nations’
Judeo-Christian tradition!
hj: Here we go! Page 89! A nude girl! Tell me what you see here,
brother, so I can understand the point-of-view of a fellow Christian.
pp: Yes! Here is what I see... A tranquil blue-green sea laps quietly
at the pussy of a young girl as she contemplates a playful dive into
deeper water.
hj: Ah! Like, maybe she’s fooled around a little, but now she’s going
to ‘take the plunge’. She desires to be deflowered!
pp: Yes! And look at the opposite page. Here’s what I see on page
88: With quiet ocean waves caressing her legs, gently moistening her
sex, a girl lies at the edge of the tide, on the beach. As she waits
for the tide to rise, she juts her bottom toward the sky, daring Phoebus
to burn it.
hj: Good God! When someone could be thinking about Jezebel, he’s
forced to think about that instead!
pp: Disgusting! Turn on, brother. Turn to another page.
hj: What are you doing? Why are you putting your hand in your pants?
pp: I’m girding my loins. All good Christians do that.
hj: Oh. Okay.
pp: Show me more of the bizarre, perverted works of Satan!
hj: Ooops. There’s just a plant here on page 91.
pp: More sickness! See the shape of those leaves? It reminds me of
marijuana! He’s promoting the drug culture!
hj: He is?
pp: Yes! Turn on. Find some more of those bare-bottomed girls!
hj: Here’s one-- page 162!
pp: EEEEEEEEYAH! A sleepy blonde lies quietly in the cool shade of her
master’s bedroom. He watches her still, slowly-breathing figure from
across the room. He gazes lustily at the whiteness of her nude bottom,
where her swimsuit usually covers her. Slowly, as he regards her bare
figure, he pulls his belt from his pants...
hj: Bravo! Be sure to include that one in your fundraising letter!
pp: Yes! Show me more! We’re really moving now!
hj: Are you still girding your loins?
pp: Indeed, brother! You should try it some time. Just don’t tell my
wife.
hj: Ooops. Here on page 132 there’s just a mule.
pp: Sex with animals!
hj: Let’s see... how about page 134. Ooops. It’s just a grove of
bamboo.
pp: Support for the Viet Cong!
hj: Whoa. On pages 176 and 177 there are men... with clothes on...
pp: See? See? What did I tell you? He’s preaching homosexuality!
hj: Ahhh. At last. Here’s some girls... page 28.
pp: Mmmmm! With quiet whispers, two captive slave girls plot their
escape from Bondage Beach!
hj: Bondage Beach?
pp: Yes. Their master has spared them the punishments he’s inflicted
on the older girls, but they know he’ll turn to them soon.
hj: So do they escape?
pp: Yes. They see a ship. They wave to it and draw it close. But
then, just as it’s about to save them, they metamorphose into Sirens.
Gleefully they watch as the ship is lured into a dangerous outcropping
of rocks in the sea and its sailors are drowned.
hj: What happens then?
pp: Poseidon changes the Sirens back into girls. He’s in league with
their master, you see, to prevent their escaping.
hj: Is there any more to this story?
pp: Yes! Seeing the boatload of hardy sailors dashed to pieces on the
rocks, the girls realize what’s happened. They pray to Zeus to restrain
Poseidon. He does, and when the girls see another ship, they call to
it. But this time they don’t turn into Sirens and they don’t lure the
ship onto the rocks.
hj: So are they saved?
pp: Yes. They think they are. But when they board the ship, they find
out it’s owned by Bluebeard the Pirate!
hj: Yikes!
pp: So they go from Bondage Beach to Bondage Brig!
At that point, I figured I had enough information. No wonder
those Christians need to go to church so much-- what an imagination they
have! Anyway, I’m planning to go to church much more often myself. I
didn’t realize that halfway through the service they pass around a plate
with money in it! I helped myself to 45 dollars, enough to buy David
Hamilton’s next book!
AND IN THE END...
PROTECT THE CHILDREN?
“A U.N. report estimated that 420,000 children, 5,000 every
month since 1991, have died because of inadequate medical care and
insufficient food supplies. The report also said that one third of all
Iraqi children are malnourished, and many suffer from infections. The
source of many of the illnesses and deaths is poor drinking water.
Sewage treatment plants and electric power plants that keep them going
were bombed during the Gulf War.”
- The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer, March 13, 1998.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-END OF 352 EMISSION
“Just the very fact that a million people have died, it’s the
greatest disaster since the Mongol invasion of Baghdad in 1258 A.D. And
yet it doesn’t seem to sink through into the consciousness of the
American people.”
- Jim Jennings (The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer, March 13, 1998.)
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