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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 354 Dungeon of Desire NND g2
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Ms. Willey, talking about
Clinton’s peter, is
not in this issue!
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Need a book?
http://www.amazon.com
Issue No. 354
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Dungeon of Desire
Chapter Four
“How can I...?” Dick hesitated to broach the question. It
implied that we were here for impure purposes. Perhaps we might have
inspected the dungeon and then simply left, to play in bed, perhaps, the
dungeon just a curiosity. But held obscenely by his erect member, Dick
could no longer entertain that fantasy. He needed and wanted now. His
own captivity made him harder and hungrier. “How can I fuck?” Dick
asked bluntly. “How can I get off? I came here to have fun and to
fuck, not to be stuck in some wall!” Dick yanked himself back, slamming
his fists into the plyboard. But the board barely trembled. Dick, on
the other hand, grunted painfully as his cock found it absolutely could
not withdraw. Jennifer squealed. She watched as the prongs held Dick
firm, pressing and digging into his fleshy column, even making it
stretch out a little, as he tried to draw his hips back. And the rings,
the awful rings, held his cock in a toothsome grip.
“My, my, such dirty thoughts for a clean-cut Citadel graduate,”
Katy tsked. She patted his buttocks. “Well, don’t worry, Officer Dick,
I’ll see that you’re made to be good. We have whips here for just such
a purpose. And paddles, and crops. I’ll let you pick your poison in a
minute.”
Katy turned and slipped, liquid like, over to me. She was upon
me before I had time to think. I was still too busy staring at my
powerful boyfriend, his Herculean body made utterly captive by a few
well-placed rings around his penis. Katy lifted my bottom with my palm,
making me straighten a little. She cupped both my large breasts with
her other hand and did her best to gather my bosoms and aim my nipples
into the holes. Jennifer waited, with baited breath, on the other side.
“Get them in, dear. Time to have the tips of your breasts
milked,” Katy said quietly, certainly, not giving me any chance to
argue. She must have done this trick before because, despite my ample
bosom and the smallness of her palm, she managed to squeeze and direct
the tips of my breasts into the small, waiting holes. I felt my nipples
slide within the mouth-like openings. Katy pressed a palm hard against
my back. My chin bumped the wall and then my head lofted back. My
breasts pressed themselves to the plyboard. And, within the holes now,
I felt my stiff nipples suddenly captured. Jennifer screwed the rings
down. They were much smaller than the rings which held Dick. Their
greased bodies of steel closed on my nipples and I felt little prongs
touch and tip their way into the flesh of my teats.
And I knew. Hearing Jennifer giggle, I felt the awful truth.
The prongs, pressing into my skin just behind the very tip of each of my
nipples, left the actual ends of my nipples looking like little mouths
gasping for air. I felt a tongue-flick. Jennifer was licking my
nipples! Just the mouthing tips, where a baby might draw milk. She
tasted each provoked nipple tip tentatively. Then she licked again. I
felt like a mother, offering herself to her child.
But I didn’t want to be like this. It was so awful, having my
nipples held, the prongs distorting the ends of my nipples and Jennifer
tasting them like they were little rosebuds that needed suckling to
open.
“No!” I gasped. Katy only laughed. Jennifer, behind the
board, laughed. And then the worst happened. The little imp who had
wet my breasts with her tongue flipped a switch. I didn’t hear the
switch get flipped but I felt the result. A small electric current
flowed through the rings and the prongs that held me and it shocked my
nipples.
I screamed. Dick cried out like a warlock made captive in
Hell. The current subsided.
“There, that should keep you both on your best behavior,” Katy
laughed. Jennifer giggled and wanted to shock us again but Katy forbid
it. “Only if I say so, dear Jennifer. I want to use it as a method of
control for now. I still have to chain them both up!”
Katy lifted my arms. I did not resist. I could not. I was
still too busy gasping from the shock little Jennifer, now definitely my
Former friend, had given me. Katy raised both my arms and then pinned
them together with only one of her hands. She gripped me lightly, like
a butterfly, knowing I dared not resist. Then she slipped a padded
leather cuff down over each of my hands. My fingers struggled and tried
to resist the descent of each cuff, but I only fought with half my
strength, not wanting to get in trouble, and I did not move my wrists.
Jennifer closed each cuff over my wrists. I was clasped tight
within the padded leather. The cuffs were connected to each other by a
very short chain. It was like wearing handcuffs. The big chain from
which the cuffs descended down from the ceiling had a hook in it. It
permitted the chain to be drawn down but kept it from sliding back up.
Once secured, I was left to hang. My nipples were caught and my wrists
were held high over my head. I glanced fearfully at Katy. She only
smiled. She kissed my cheek. She licked my earlobe.
“You are so precious. I’ll have fun torturing you,” she said.
“Now lets get these little legs of yours apart. I want to have complete
access to you, my dear. You’re too lovely not to penetrate in every
available place!” She pushed apart my knees. I felt them slide across
the pink beach towel and knew I’d rather be lying on the towel, out in
the air, under the sun, even if it meant getting burned all over. For
here, only some places of me stood to get burnt, and I knew where they
lay on my body. My huddling asscheeks, perhaps the slope of my soft
back and my nervous, well-formed thighs. Perhaps, wickedly, a whip
curling around to tease me as it struck against me, upon my belly or my
sloping breasts.
Katy clamped the ends of a spreader bar within my opened
thighs. She imprisoned me right above my knees. I felt utterly open,
my tight cunny hanging down, offering itself in a futile gesture of
sacrifice. My pinhole bottomhole felt its hidden place between the
cheeks of my butt exposed to the light and the air.
Whereas Dick, obviously, was held with his hips slammed up
against the wall, I was held to the wall by my bosoms. My bottom hung
free. My belly had no contact with the wall. I was like a bitch
offering her bottom to the male. Katy encouraged me to dip my back more
and show more of my heinie and my spread ass to her. She flicked a
finger along the lips of my cunny, making me shudder. She separated my
hair so that it fell away from my back and in front of me, leaving my
backside and back completely exposed. I vowed to shake my mane back
behind me as soon as she left me.
“I’m going to gag you,” Katy said to me. She did not say why.
She called to Jennifer, who stood singing a little song behind the
plyboard, admiring Dick and playing her fingers along his trapped
penis. “Bring me a gag for Kelly,” Katy told Jennifer. The girl went
to a shelf and took down a strip of rawhide. She brought it to her
Mistress and Katy opened my lips and put the rawhide into my mouth. It
tasted something like beef jerky, and she pushed it deep into my mouth
so that I could not clench my teeth together. I felt my tongue jammed
back and knew I would be making no smalltalk anytime soon. The polite
conversation we’d enjoyed at our tea party was over.
Satisfied that I was completely hers, that she could do
whatever she wished with me, Katy stood admiring me for a moment. Like
a woman does, jealously. Her fingers touched me and she finally used
both hands to press at and hold the trembling cheeks of my bottom. She
seemed in awe of my heinie. “You have such a precious little bottom,”
Katy told me, a touch of envy in her words. “It’s so white and
resilient. Irresistible, really. I’m going to put some weals on it for
you. You’ll feel very proud when you can show Sauron how you’ve
suffered for him. They’ll be trophies, really, your little weals. You
can bend over for him and lift your skirt and say, ‘Here, Sauron, this
is my gift to you. I did this to show you that even though I’m naughty
sometimes and make you angry I do still love you. Here’s proof! I had
myself punished just so I could be your beloved again, faithful and
true, guiltless and ever so loving.”
Jennifer, meanwhile, so that our punishment would not be
needlessly delayed, had put herself in charge of trussing up Dick’s
limbs. She was not tall enough to simply raise up his arms. She had to
mount the bench and stand there, child-like, beside him. With her
bottom quivering quivering behind her, still showing the marks of her
own punishment, she lofted up Dick’s arms, one by one. They were big
and heavy and muscled and he did not help her. He made her lift his arm
all by herself. She sounded like she was lifting a tree trunk, I
thought, as she gasped out grunts in doing her work.
A veritable Junior Amazon, Jennifer finally managed to get both
Dick’s arms uplifted and belted into a pair of overhanging cuffs.
Unlike my wrists, which were held submissively together, connected by a
short handcuff-like chain, Dick’s wrists were spread far apart. He
looked like Samson holding up the roof of the king’s palace. And, when
Jennifer got his legs apart, and fixed into a spreader bar, one might
have thought he was the Pillars of Hercules. I wanted to sail a little
boat between his legs and look up and admire his manly balls.
We were roped up at last, bound and gagged and caught by our
most private parts, like sails affixed to the mast and the yardarms,
ready to take on the winds of the open sea. I looked at Dick. He
glanced over at me. We were both gagged but I somehow communicated, I
thought, to him that I loved him and loved that he’d come with me to
Sauron’s. His eyes were glazed. It was, absent Sauron, a man’s dream
cum true. Three lovely young females, all scurrying around him as if he
were king, yet playing tricks on him at the same time. There was no
doubt that he was well loved, even as they contemplated torturing him.
He had a fine body and plenty of muscles and he was an Officer to boot,
fresh from the Citadel, trained in all the ways of a Southern
gentleman. And he was theirs! Girls, no matter how pretty they are,
always stand in awe of a truly fine man and wet themselves over him.
Now they had one all to themselves, to play with and tease as much as
they pleased. Even as she’d put his arms up into the cuffs Jennifer had
openly admired them. And as she’d spread his legs she’d admired him
even more.
Katy mused over the implements on the wall and chose a slim,
whippy riding crop. I shivered. It would sting and weal me if she
chose to use it at its full potential, swinging it hard. She walked
behind myself and my lover. She snapped her wrist. The whip ricocheted
through the air, making me tremble. My nipples winced in their clamps.
Dick flinched, giving his penis an unwanted jerk that caused the tongs
to dig into his organ.
Katy seemed to want to start with me. After all, she had only
one crop. She slipped close to me and stroked my waist and kissed my
face. “Now, darling, I just want you to concentrate on the sensations
of your body, both the good and the bad,” she purred. She kissed me
again. “I must awaken you in all your aspects.” Then she stepped back
behind me. I heard her feet prance as she leapt in toward me and gave
herself a practise swing. Then she withdrew again and, coming forward
once more, she let fly her wrist.
SWWWICK! I yelped as her crop zinged into my flesh...
---
“[My poem is] about... sex, one of the greatest inventions of
all time,” writes Tim DiVito.
A TASTE OF PEACH
by Tim DiVito
Walking together along a sunlit beach
sends a hunger racing downward.
Rising from the ocean a scent of desire
heats our self control.
Embracing suddenly under the beating sun
sparks our ecstasy.
Kissing your long golden legs
seems to be an endless journey, enticing
my searching mouth to the fruit of passion.
Gentle fingers massage the juices all over
your tender, smooth skin.
Sticky sweetness savored willingly,
hardens muscles with erotic tension.
Frequent tastes of your delicious peach
sends juices trickling down my chin.
Overwhelming waves of passion engulf us.
After our refreshing rendezvous
we slowly stroll along in a sandy sweat,
under an exotic sunset.
A taste of peach, still present on our lips.
MAGAZINE REVIEWS
by holy joe
Club, May 1998, $5.99. Club Magazine, P.O. Box 133, Mount Morris, IL
61054. No web site listed.
Review: What a pain in the ass it is, being a porno reviewer.
I just had the carpet cleaning service in here today, cleaning up after
my review of Mayfair. You’ll recall that issue contained a wonderful
girl named Dill.
She’s back, in a different pictorial, in Club. It’s almost as
juicy as the one in Mayfair. In this pictorial, in Club, Dill decided
to call herself Donna. While she’s listed as being 18 in Mayfair, in
Club they say she’s 19. What a slice of heaven this girl is! Sure, her
tits aren’t big enough, but the rest of her is so fine, I don’t mind!
As the pictorial beings, Donna is having trouble keeping her
panties on (page 99). Then, on the next page, she decides her undies
are just too restrictive, and slides them down to her ankles. Then she
lies back. Pulling her panties up to her knees (is she being coy?) she
offers some delicious pussy shots. For once, I’m impressed with the
sight of a girl’s pussy. I guess it’s her soft, heavenly face, and that
wiggling little tongue of hers. Hold that pose, Donna. I’m coming in!
Ooops. I’m coming, that’s for sure. Damn. And I don’t have
enough money to call the carpet cleaning people again.
I guess I’ll just have to put up with the smell. At least it
didn’t hit my magazine!
Shit. Now I moved my foot and stepped in it...
OMIGOD! One of the all-time best ass shots is on the next
page. It’s of Dill, I mean, Donna, kneeling on a daybed, with her knees
neatly tucked under her. She’s barefoot. She’s gazing back over a
seductively hunched shoulder and eyeing my rod. (She’s nicknamed it
“the bazooka.”)
Or is Donna actually with other couples, playing some sort of
naked game?
Or is she watching her girlfriend get fucked up the fanny, on
the floor, knowing it’s her turn next?
On page 103, Donna convinces her lover to fuck her cunt,
instead of her butthole. She eagerly rubs her tummy as she watches him
mount her. She’s skipped taking her birth control pill, and watches
with sexy delight as he prepares to penetrate her. (Too bad her lover
doesn’t know she’s planning to make him a father!)
Another terrific girl in this issue is Josie, page 112. She’s
more worldly in her appearance than Donna, and I didn’t find her
pictorial with a car nearly as exciting as Donna cuddled up on a
daybed. But if you want to see an excellent-looking girl posing on an
excellent-looking sports car, this is it!
Finally, there’s a very hot pictorial of Angel, page 7.
Whipped cream, a strawberry, a bathtub, pinned-up hair, and a
seductively pierced navel make this a top-notch set of photos.
The rest of this magazine is also very good. High quality,
highly creative pictorials, with nice babes and some outstanding
‘clothing’.
For my money, I’m finding the Club series of magazines to be a
far better buy than Playboy, Penthouse, or Hustler. It’s pretty
amazing; I once regarded Club, Club International, and Club Confidential
as being at the bottom of the barrel. But now I put them right at the
top!
Still, though, I’d rather have a girlfriend. At least, with a
girlfriend, my jism would go up her instead of all over my carpet.
(Plus, she could cook for me too, so I wouldn’t have to go to
McDonald’s when I’m done reading my magazines.)
Check this out! Both this month’s Mayfair and this month’s
Club ask this question on the table of contents page:
“Ever wondered what it takes to put Mayfair together?”
“Ever wondered what it’s like to put Club together?”
The answers given are totally different.
Great minds think alike, I guess.
AND IN THE END...
Ever wondered what it’s like to put Fuck Decency together?
Oh.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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Identities and David Hamilton’s The Age of Innocence. Support art!
-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 354 EMISSION
I need a (discount) carpet cleaner!
--
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