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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 358 Dungeon of Desire NND g2
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In This Issue:
GOD’S WILL REVEALED !
(how lucky can you get?)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Hamilton? Sturges?
http://www.amazon.com
Issue No. 358
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Dungeon of Desire
Epilogue
“Tsk! Then you’ll need to be restrained and gagged,” Shantila
replied. I said nothing. She went back to the dresser. She returned
with a rope. It was white and soft but I feared it all the same.
Shantila bound it round each of my wrists as I lay with them at my face
on the table. Then she pulled both my wrists out in front of my head.
She bound the free end of the rope tightly around an old radiator behind
the desk. It didn’t work, but it was very firmly bolted to the floor.
Shantila fetched a gag. She urged my lips apart and carefully
fitted the gag between them. Then she tied the ends of the gag behind
my head, in my hair. She stroked my hair down off my back so she could
see all of me.
Shantila stepped behind me again. She was about to restrain my
feet when the doorbell rang.
I froze. This had happened once before. It had been a mere
salesman, and Johnson had turned the person away, but I had felt
mortified lying over his desk, just out of view of the door, with my
hands tied to his radiator.
Shantila, sensing a unique opportunity, went to the door.
“Yes, may I help you?” she asked, opening it.
“Hello, madam. Have you had an uplifting experience today?” I
heard a voice ask.
“No, but I know somebody who’s about to...” Shantila said.
“Would you like to talk to her?” I felt fear grip my tummy. How could
she? This was unspeakable.
I heard a sniffle, as if the salesman had a runny nose. “Well,
actually, I don’t mean to intrude. Perhaps if you’d just purchase one
for her,” the voice continued.
“Come in, you dolt. Do you have to be dragged in?” Shantila
snapped. I don’t know if she grabbed him or not but, a moment later, to
my intense embarrassment, I found myself glancing back over my shoulder
and coming face to face with the nerd! It was the same one who’d
drooled over me as I checked my skirt on my way up here. How had he
managed to...?
I gazed at his rumbled shirt and his (non-matching, of course)
short pants. He must have followed me! He had a big handful of sales
literature for something or other. I yanked at my bonds. I kicked one
of my legs back, trying to break free of my totally awful predicament.
Who knew what this book worm would say about me? Could I ever park in
the garage again, knowing he might be lurking there, waiting for me and
hoping to score a peek at my ass?
“She does have a lovely ass, doesn’t she?” Shantila asked the
nerd. She could see his fixation with my heinie and it bothered her not
when he failed to reply at all. His mouth hung open and his tongue
seemed to have trouble staying behind his teeth. I watched to my
mortification as a drooling drip of saliva formed on his tongue and
dropped toward the floor.
“Are you...are you...” the nerd stammered.
“Am I going to spank her? Yes. She gets spanked here once a
week. She’s paid for it. Would you like to watch? She has little say
in the matter, as you can see...”
“Um, yes. Do you think she’d like to buy some MiracleGlow
brass cleaner too?” the nerd asked. “It’s good for polishing... your
brass.”
“I’ll polish your ass if you speak to me again of buying
anything,” Shantila said. “What do you think this is, the Internet?”
“Um, no. Though it’s sort of like...” the nerd said, gazing at
my ass. “Could I take pictures of her and upload her ass to all my
buddies? I need some new porn to trade and stuff.”
“Just watch and enjoy,” Shantila said. She put a finger to his
lips to quiet him. Then she made a face and drew her finger away and
shook it in the air. “You’re drooling!” she scolded him. “Confine your
drooling to your member, please!”
“Do you have a magazine I could use or anything?” the nerd
asked. He unzipped himself. I felt like a lavatory!
“Zip up, boy. It’s bad enough you’re drooling your spit all
over the carpet. I don’t need to clean up your jism too. I’d advise
you not to cum if you intend to wander all around inside this building
selling your...”
“MiracleGlow Brass Cleaner! It’s the best!” the nerd said. He
proffered his booklets again.
“I don’t see any...” Shantila said. She grabbed the booklets
from him.
“You have to ORDER it! I just collect money and give you a
booklet to show you’ve bought and how to use...” the nerd followed
Shantila to the window. She raised it and flung his booklets out into
the open air. I felt the warm air of the city flow in and touch me upon
my heinie.
“What are you doing to my literature?!” the nerd shrieked. He
watched in horror as all his booklets went flying out onto the wind, to
compete with the pigeons in the air.
Shantila closed the window. “They’ll all still be down there
on the pavement waiting for you to pick them up after you’re done,” she
smiled. And it was true, I knew. They’d all be down there, lying in
the alley.
“Well...” the nerd paused. His eyes darted from the window to
my bottom. He put a contemplative finger beneath his chin.
“Here. Clean your glasses,” Shantila said to him. She ripped
a kleenex from its paper box and handed it to him.
Shantila came up behind me. I struggled in my bonds but it was
fruitless. She directed the nerd to bring her a spreader bar from the
chest of drawers to keep my legs apart. He complied. He found the bar
and brought it to her but he couldn’t open its telescoping ends. She
had to pull it apart for him. Then she had him bend down and affix it
between my ankles.
“Ow!” the nerd cried. He injured his finger trying to buckle
my ankles into the bar. Finally, after much effort, he succeeded. I
felt like kicking him but Shantila was standing right there with the
paddle.
-----
The Age of Innocence, by David Hamilton, $31.50. (Retail: $45.00)
Large-sized Art book with many black-and-white photos, and some color
photos. Many pages. Web: http://amazon.com or
http://barnesandnoble.com
You would not believe what happened to me today. I met this
guy. He calls himself, “Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle.” (I realize that
may be a trademarked name of the Edgar Rice Burroughs estate, but that’s
what he calls himself-- what am I to do?)
‘Tarzan,’ in addition to calling himself that, looks rather
like the real article. He doesn’t wear a shirt. He has broad
shoulders. He has long hair. He wears a loincloth. (Maybe he’s really
‘The Naked Man,’ that guy from Berkeley. I’m not sure.)
Anyway, I was sitting next to Tarzan on the bus. He had a book
with him. I asked what he was reading and he showed it to me. It was
David Hamilton’s ‘The Age of Innocence’ !
“I can’t read, but I like looking at the pictures,” Tarzan told
me.
As we rode along on the bus I asked Tarzan about his life. He
said he was from Africa. He said he had come to America to find a wife,
to take back to Africa with him. But he was disappointed, he said,
because “all your women folk here are already fucked.”
(Tarzan’s not the most diplomatic person to talk to.)
“Well,” I said. “At least you have one consolation. None of
the girls in that book you’re carrying around have been fucked. Maybe
you’ll get lucky and meet one of them.”
“I hope so,” Tarzan said. He explained to me how he would be
totally humiliated if he brought back to Africa a bride who had already
been in bed with another man. Things are more old fashioned in Africa,
I guess, than they are here in America.
Figuring I had, perhaps, a sympathetic listener, I explained to
Tarzan my belief that God is an 8-year-old girl. I told him I felt God
looked like Barbie, but a junior version of Barbie.
“Yes!” Tarzan said. “I have had that same belief myself.”
“You have?!” I asked. This really shocked me. I thought God,
as an 8-year-old girl, was my own invention. Tarzan pulled a crumpled
sheet of paper out of his loincloth. It was a little sweaty from being
next to his dick. (I don’t think he had any underpants on.) He spread
it out on the flat surface of his David Hamilton book. He looked at it
reverently. Then he handed it to me. (I took it with delicate fingers,
as it had the sweat of his groin on it.)
“I’d keep that next to my heart, except I don’t have a shirt,”
Tarzan told me. I nodded. The slip of paper had been photocopied by
somebody. Tarzan asked me to read it aloud to him. Here’s what it
said:
GOD’S NEW COMMANDMENTS
Greetings! Today I am going to share an important truth with
you. It is this: God is an 8-year-old girl!
What does God look like? That’s hard to say. She’s God, after
all. But it has been revealed to me that by studying the book, ‘The Age
of Innocence,’ we may see God in all her many forms and varieties. No
one girl in ‘The Age of Innocence’ is God herself. But each one is a
‘humanized’ version of the divine being, God.
How does one worship such a God? By reading the book, ‘The Age
of Innocence’ ! What an excellent book this is for such a purpose.
Lots of little girls are contained within its pages. All types and
varieties of girls, so that every man may find one or more to his liking
to worship. I might look at one girl, and worship her. You might look
at another girl, on another page, and worship her. But we will BOTH be
worshipping the same God!
All of this was revealed to me today, as I speculated upon the
photographs compiled by David Hamilton, of beautiful young girls in ‘The
Age of Innocence’.
Why has God chosen to reveal her true essence at this time?
Because she is dissatisfied with the way we men have been living here on
earth.
In the beginning, God created heaven and earth. Then she
created man. She created man in her image. However, she gave man an
extra appendage, to give him something to do with his hands, and to
amuse herself.
Later, man insisted that he have someplace to put his extra
appendage, especially at night, when it tended to harden. So, as a
receptacle for man’s appendage, God created woman.
But God is dissatisfied with how things have developed here on
earth. We men have put the receptacles in charge of our lives! This is
greatly displeasing to God. She intends for us to worship Her, but
instead we worship the receptacles!
The time is ripe, gentlemen, for a new religion. Recently I
heard one of the receptacles speak. It was the president of NOW, the
National Organization for Women. She said, “Sexual harassers are
everywhere.” She wasn’t asked about date rapists, but we all know what
her response to that would have been: “Date rapists are everywhere.”
And so on, with all the other legal categories which have recently been
created by the receptacles to control and manipulate men.
God does not want us men treated like this! Receptacles, in
charge of our lives! For this reason did God command that ‘The Age of
Innocence’ be made, celebrating HER form, so that men might learn to
love Her again.
It is hereby commanded by God that all men purchase ‘The Age of
Innocence,’ and read it on a daily basis. It is also commanded that ye
go forth and convert others to a worship of God. Stand on the street
corners and proclaim Her religion! Demand that it be taught in the
schools! And don’t forget to deduct your purchase of ‘The Age of
Innocence’ on your income taxes. You are making a charitable
contribution to God when you purchase this book. Buy several copies.
Hand them out to friends and co-workers. And deduct all of them on your
taxes.
Thus sayeth the Lord.
p.s. The proper offering, if visited by God, is a lollipop.
(Preferably a cherry lollipop.)
(humbly transcribed by the disciple perply.)
“Perply?!” I cried. “He’s stolen my religion.”
“He said he read about it on his computer. Whatever that
means,” Tarzan told me. “Turn the paper over. There’s more on back.”
I turned the paper over. Here’s what was on the back:
PRAYING TO GOD
It is essential, as a believer in God, that you pray to Her.
Here is how it shall be done:
1. Prepare for bed.
2. Kneeling at your bedside, place ‘The Age of Innocence’ upon
your bed.
3. Look at the pictures in ‘The Age of Innocence.’ Fill your
mind with the beauty and grace of God. Whisper to God of your secret
passions, hopes, and desires.
4. Proclaim loudly your love of God, while looking at your
favorite picture(s) in ‘The Age of Innocence.’
5. (Optional): Make tribute to the Lord God. (Be sure to
have a box of kleenex handy if you do this.)
6. Retire to bed, rid of all thoughts of the receptacles, your
mind filled with the glory of God.
Thus sayeth the Lord.
“Clever,” I said. “But I still don’t like Perply stealing my
religion.”
“The monkey’s out of the tree now,” Tarzan said to me. He took
back the paper. He folded it up and stuffed it back in his loincloth.
Its presence there made his loincloth bulge out a little more than it
was already doing.
“So,” I said. “Are you a believer in that claptrap?” (I was
starting to dislike my religion a little, now that Perply had stolen it
from me.)
“Of course,” Tarzan said. “Praise be to God!” Then he opened
up his David Hamilton book and began looking at it intently.
“Personally, I think that one is God,” Tarzan said to me. He pointed to
the girl on page 48, in the upper right hand corner.
“I’d pick her too,” I said to Tarzan. “But I think I’m going
back to being a Lutheran.”
“What did that ever do for you?” Tarzan asked me.
“Hmmm. Nothing,” I admitted.
“See?” Tarzan said. “No wonder you didn’t get any results.
You were praying under a false religion. Anyway, who looks better?
This girl, or Martin Luther?”
“The girl,” I answered.
“How about if you were a Catholic?” Tarzan asked me. “Would
you rather worship the Pope, or this girl?”
“The girl,” I admitted.
“How about if you were a Mormon?” Tarzan asked. “Would you
rather be with this girl, or with Joseph Smith?”
“The girl,” I said.
“You see?” Tarzan asked me. He pointed to his chest. “In my
case, I used to pray to a giant monkey. Thank God I found out about
this new religion! Maybe it will even get me a wife!”
“That would be better than fucking a monkey... or spanking one,
too,” I said.
“That’s right,” Tarzan said.
We got off the bus singing hymns to our (new) God and shouting
‘Praise the Lord!’ People smiled at us, until we held up the David
Hamilton book. Then somebody called a policeman.
AND IN THE END...
NEED AN OSCAR?
“Academy members are suckers for sentiment. They will
sometimes crown an actor as much for personal misfortunes as for the
performance given. It is wonderful what afflictions, unhappy love
affairs and tales of child abuse surface in the window of time between
an Oscar nomination and the voting for the awards.”
- The Economist, March 14, 1998, pg. 96.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
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-END OF 358 EMISSION
Glory to God! Death to all unbelievers!
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