Message-ID: <678eli$9705021540@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: ROLLER666@aol.com Subject: FUCK DECENCY 254 Cunt Castle (nnd) Andrew Roller Presents FUCK DECENCY Issue No. 254 Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in Cunt Castle Chapter Two Skipping sex, despite the men's renewed longing for it, we got out of the tub and Maria handed us towels. She watched as we dried each other. The men were tall and well-haired, their cocks up and boldly displayed. Polly seemed fascinated by the difference between drying her own little cunny and a man's loins, he being huge and erect where she had nothing but a little slit. We took our time, exciting each other by passing the towels repeatedly over the sexiest areas, drying each other's loins until they were re-wetted by their own fluids. I thought then we'd return to the bed for sure. After all, it had fresh sheets now. Why not? I was feeling frisky. "Men, I'm going to ask you to be on your best behavior," Rose told Louis and Andre. Bev and Jack were holding hands, standing close by the bed. "I see no reason why a girl can't have some fun before she's whipped. I'm going to take Polly and Fleury dancing. Just to give them a little air." With that Rose took Polly and I each by the hand. With newly excited cunnies and stiff nipples we stepped from the bedroom, naked as jaybirds. Louis and Andre and Jack and Bev, with Maria in attendance, were left behind. I looked back, as did Polly. Bev had bright eyes. Her hands had Jack and Andre by their cocks, with Louis extending his toward her as well. "I thought they weren't supposed to fuck anymore?" Polly asked in an irked tone of voice. "Well, honey, they're not supposed to, and I told them to be good," Rose replied quietly. "Well, they look like they're GOING TO to me," Polly exclaimed. "Let's not worry about them right now," Rose said. "I'll ask Bev to give me a full report on their behavior later." "Will you spank them if they're bad?" Polly inquired. "Certainly! I told them to be good, didn't I?" Rose said. "Ooooh, goody!" Polly exclaimed. Her legs danced as we walked, coltish, slim and childish, long but not fully fatted yet. I was conscious of my own legs. They were skinny like hers, but not as much. My bottom was fuller too. Mine had a sense of womanhood about it, while hers still had those rubbery cheeks that veer a little toward the slim side. Hers promised, mine delivered, one might say. Rose's bottom swayed between us, round and soft and gracious, the sort one sees on Georgia peaches in the springtime, walking up church steps with their children, or dancing with their husbands at evening balls. Her pubic mound was fully furred, while mine and Polly's were fleecy and light. She projected an aura of the well-mounted woman, unafraid of men, knowledgeable, a good wife. I was more the saucy high school girl, unsure, willing yet unwilling. Polly seemed ever more relentlessly wedded to childhood. I think she used it as a security blanket. She did not have to try to cope with the world if she could pass herself off as a baby. I at least wanted to try. I wished to look men in the eye with the confidence Rose had. We strolled down the hall, calm in our nudity, me copying Rose while Polly skipped alongside. We met no one. I heard sounds behind bedroom doors that we passed. A moan, the sound of a whip? Wood breaking? They must be starting early, Rose's guests. I did not ask about the sounds. Polly babbled about how Louis and Andre needed to be given all sorts of implements on their bottoms, finally concluding that a bullwhip would be best. Rose humored her. The girl was sealing her own fate, not theirs. ---------------------------------------------------------------- A R E A D I N G F U N D has been established for Stephen Knox, imprisoned in a federal penitentiary for ordering a swimsuit video featuring teenage girls. To help provide books to Knox (formerly a Phd. candidate at Penn State), send any amount to: Uncommon Desires Newsletter, P.O. Box 2377, New York, NY 10185. Make checks payable to: Ophelia Editions. ---------------------------------------------------------------- We met Joanne and Sylvia, coming up the stairs. They were wet. They had a boy with them, from the workmen's huts. They had found him, they said, while they played outside in the rain. Rose scolded them for getting their dresses wet. She ordered the boy back to his hut. "Take Polly to her room," Rose said. "We're going dancing at the cabana. You can take a quick shower in her room, then meet me downstairs." Polly waved goodbye to me and went off with Joanne and Sylvia. The girls did not mind losing their boyfriend. They were here to serve, and be trained. They expected Rose to correct them. When they left the castle they could do whatever they pleased. They had come here for something different in this age of the liberated woman. They had come to find fulfillment in the older ways, of servitude and obedience. Happily Polly told them of all she expected to happen to Andre and Louis. "And Rose will whip them, with a big, big bullwhip that will make their balls bounce up and down!" Polly crowed. Her punishments for the men were getting more elaborate by the minute. Joanne and Sylvia exchanged glances. They knew Polly was sewing her own doom more than that of anyone else, though Polly herself was oblivious. She pranced along between them, describing in spooky terms all the things that must certainly happen to the men if they disobeyed Rose. Rose took me to my bedroom. Again I looked at the canopied four-poster where she'd promised me I would taste the whip. A corporal punishment, with no mercy, unlike any I'd ever had before. The sheets lay waiting, fresh and crisp, to receive me. "Oh, do it now, get it over with!" I said suddenly, turning to her. "Not yet, dear," Rose replied. I sank to my knees and found myself pressing my nose pleadingly into her delta. It was soft, silky, dark as the hair on her head. She consoled my anxiety by placing a hand on the back of my head. I stuck out my tongue, felt between her legs for her clit. "Ah! Please!" Rose cried. I'd found her spot. I tongued it with babyish little licks, like Polly might. She said 'please' again and I knew not whether she wished me to continue or stop. I clasped her womanly thighs and parted them wider. I urged my titties between her legs. She let her knees buckle a little, clearly enjoying my efforts. But we were going dancing, in public! We must not play like this, making ourselves all wet. "Enough!" Rose said. Roughly she pulled me up my my hair. She held my blonde locks in her hands a moment, staring at me, her eyes and her cheeks hot. At last she let go. "I want you to show off your flawless bottom once more before it's whipped," Rose said to me. "Will it still be flawless tomorrow?" I gulped. I felt butterflies lift off anew in my tummy. This was getting serious. "Not for a few days," Rose replied. "Then it should be fine again. Unless Louis wants a replay." "I don't want a play, let alone..." "I know," she said, putting a finger to my lips. "Get dressed. There are bikinis in the drawer. Just wear a bikini. Nothing else." I walked to the dresser drawer in my room and opened it. There, arrayed before me, were all sorts of colorful bikinis just my size. Had someone gone out and bought them for me? "They're beautiful," I sighed. They were skimpy too. I picked one that had a nice full bottom to it. Rose might want me showing off my ass in public, but I didn't. Louis' eyes were all I needed. I tried not to think of what he might be doing right at this moment. Rose walked over to me. She put a hand on my back and did not stop me from slipping on the bikini with the modest panties. She helped me tie them. To my chagrin I found the panties didn't cover all of my bottom crack. I dared not ask to exchange them. I was lucky Rose hadn't insisted on a thong. She rummaged through the suits and I realized there were bigger ones intermixed with what I thought were all just for me. She found one her size and I helped her into it. "Armed for battle!" Rose said to me when we'd both dressed. We looked like two girls in an underwear store, wearing just little bikinis, mine cotton, hers leather, but they were decorated for swimming. Mine had pretty dolphins with bulb noses swimming across it. Hers were imprinted with eels. The fabric of both our suits was impossibly thin. My nipples stuck up their nubs despite my bra cups. Her mound was not quite covered. It bulged where it was covered, letting the eye see clearly that she had a nice nest. I wondered how Polly would look. She took my arm and we marched with a sense of gay abandon back into the hall and down the staircase at the front of the house. I wondered if she'd made a little wet spot in her panties from my licking. Polly greeted us outside in a plastic swimsuit. She was investigating a cricket, holding it in her hands and trying to figure out what made it chirp. She showed it to us. Joanne and Sylvia loitered beside her, mildly intrigued by the cricket. Joanne wore a bikini of felt, Sylvia's was woolen, a matrix of interlaced little bits of yarn. She was lucky it was dark out. I think in the daylight one might have been able to see thru the yarn to her pubis. Polly, I thought, was lucky too. Bright sunlight would have quickly heated up her fashionable little suit. She'd have found it burning her like a vinyl car seat. Joanne, I suspected, wouldn't make more than two laps in a pool in her suit. It looked like water would fray it and make it fall apart. But a little sweat from dancing wouldn't be too bad for it and that, I guessed, is as much water as we'd see tonight. We were dressed for swimming but we'd just be nightclubbing in the city, along the shore. Rose complimented Polly for catching the cricket. Polly wanted to bring it with her in the limo but Rose told her to let it go. She did, calling goodbye to it as it flitted away into the night. Chapter Three The five of us squeezed into the back seat of the limo. I think it made us feel more secure somehow, going off into the night, with nothing to protect us except our faithful driver. He would shadow us, Rose said, to keep us out of danger. "But still, we must have our wits about us. Men will be men, you know. Let's support each other and help each other. And we'll definitely team up on any women who bug us." "Yes!" we all agreed. So this would be a real nightclub, not something specially arranged by Rose with one of her customers. It would be just us in our teensy bikinis against all the world. I shivered at the thought. Mine didn't even cover my bottom properly, but Rose assured me that everyone would be really cool and as daringly dressed as I. "The beach atmosphere is totally liberating," Rose told me. "The cover charge where we're going is $200.00 per person, so you can rest assured we won't be partying with mulish college boys on spring break. On the other hand, drug lords can afford to get in sometimes, and their cronies, so don't think you can just let your guard down completely. And women are always bitchy." Polly nodded. "Yes, they always take too LONG sitting on the commode!" Polly said, brushing back her hair and sticking her nose up. "Commode! Where did you learn that?" I asked her. "I know big words, Furry," Polly told me, using my nickname. I wasn't as furry as Rose, but I guess I did have more now than when I was 10. So, furry it was, even though most men might say I needed a little more. "How do you spell it?" I asked her. "Commode," Polly said with an important air. "C- um, O and, M and, uh, MODE!" Polly announced. "Can you spell potty?" I teased. "No, but I can SMELL potty!" Polly said, giggling, and I had to pinch her for that. For which she started pulling my hair. MAGAZINE REVIEWS by holy joe Club International, June 1997, $5.99. Club International, P.O. Box 133, Mount Morris, IL 61054. I just about dropped dead when I saw the cover of this magazine. I mean, look at that little blonde on the left side of the cover. Ye Gods! Who is that little angel, and what is she doing nude on the cover of a dirty men's magazine? All three of these girls, frankly, look like they've descended from Heaven. I haven't been very impressed with the "Angels" from Victoria's Secret that are currently on MTV. They look too old to be angels, unless they're angels from a senior home. But not these girls, on the cover of Club International! The one on the left looks 12. The one on the right, though more mature, is still youthful looking. The brunette, in the middle, looks like she convinced the two blondes to come visit me on earth and to leave their wings, harps, and panties behind. As you can imagine, this issue was all but sold out at Tower, even though it's newly released. I was forced to settle for a banged-up copy. Now I have these three angels hanging right next to my computer. They've earned a special place of honor, right next to Jackeline Marie from Playboy. (If you girls want to stop by my dumpster and autograph your photos, I'll be happy to change my socks for you.) (And shave and put on some underarm deodorant too.) (Plus my pants.) I have learned something recently. Go to the bookstore. Go to the porno rack. Look closely at the magazines that are there. Some magazines will be present in quantity, looking all crisp and new. But, studying the rack intently, you'll find that there are only one or two copies of some magazines. Usually they're rather damaged. Those are the good issues. For a long time, I did not know this. If I saw that there were only one or two copies of a magazine, and they were all dented up, I'd avoid them. Big mistake! The reason there's only one or two copies left is because that particular issue is very, very popular. I thought I was different from other males. I assumed that, as an individual, I had tastes unique to myself. But, since becoming aware of the 'dented magazine theory' about nine months ago, I have tested it repeatedly. What I've found is that I'm not different from other males. The issues that are almost sold out, because those particular issues proved to be popular, are the very issues that I find to be the best for that month. So, what's in the June 1997 issue of Club International? Well, the cover alone is worth the price. But, inside, there is a pictorial titled "Kitchen Kicks." Four luscious babes undress each other in a kitchen and make love to each other. Any time you see several attractive females engaged in plausible, well-photographed lovemaking, you know you've got a top-selling pictorial on your hands. It's the reason, I assume, that this magazine sold so well. But there's much more in this issue! "Rosie" plays around with a bottle. "Samantha" plays with ice. And there's a very attractive centerfold, "Tina." "Sleazy Riders" features two cute girls and a guy. And, in a pictorial I found quite exciting, a woman and a man do it in "Bathroom Boffers." Sadly, the little Angel on the cover of this magazine isn't inside the issue. Why? I have no idea. (Maybe she's too young!) Anyhow, even though you do get sort of ripped off, since none of the girls on the cover are in this magazine, it's still an issue worth buying. Vogue, May, $3.00. Vogue, P.O. Box 52155, Boulder, CO 80323. Review: This week, JonBenet Ramsey isn't on the cover of every tabloid in America. Some tabloids have a different person on their cover this week. Brooke Shields. This is quite amazing. America, which claims to hate pedophiles, replaces little JonBenet with Brooke. Who is Brooke Shields? Her greatest claim to fame is that she played a 12-year-old prostitute in the movie Pretty Baby. So when America isn't obsessing over a 6-year-old model, it's obsessing over an actress who played a pubescent prostitute. I've got to hand it to my fellow Americans -- you claim to despise 'sexual perversion,' but you think about it all the time! There is a maxim, you know, which is, "You are what you read." And the late Earl Nightingale claimed that "You are what you think about." Hence, given what America's constantly thinking about, only one conclusion is possible: America is a nation of perverts and pedophiles. As an honorable and decent individual, I skipped buying any tabloids this week. I bought Vogue. It has an adult woman on the cover. Admittedly, she's a young adult woman. And, I admit, I bought it because she reminded me of a 15-year-old girl I admired (when I was 14). And, yes, I did take the magazine home and jack off to it, thinking about the 15-year-old girl. But, still, at least I wasn't wallowing in pedophilia by buying the weekly tabloids! Anyway, I don't really have anything to say about this magazine. After all, it's a ladies' magazine, for women. I just bought it to jack off to the cover. AND IN THE END... Why we "need" prisons THE ESSENCE OF AMERICA "Most white people were not going to let blacks remain in this country free. If the slaves are liberated, they're gonna have to be removed outside the country. [Even Thomas] Jefferson had argued that." - (white) author Stephen Oates, (Booknotes, C-SPAN, April 27, 1997.) -------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------ -Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age statement to: roller666@aol.com -To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018. - ftp://members.aol.com/roller666 Diapergirls! (cunt2) - ftp://members.aol.com/roller6666 NudieNursery! (nude1) - ftp://members.aol.com/nnd666 Passion'sPlaypen! (passion1) - ftp://members.aol.com/nnd66 KiddieClitties! (kiddie1) - ftp://members.aol.com/nnd6 Jesus! (temptation1c) -Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop? -For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com -Fuck Decency: http://members.aol.com/nnd6/fuckdecency.html -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder. -END OF 254 EMISSION -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /