Message-ID: <789eli$9705130008@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 263 Bush League (nnd) YES, AMERICA, it's time for you to hear from me AGAIN! Andrew Roller Presents FUCK DECENCY Issue No. 263 Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in Bush League Chapter Two "I like your cock, Louis, but this one was bigger," Polly teased. She sashayed past him. "Where are you going, dear?" Rose asked her. "Swimming!" Polly replied. She unzipped the back of her dress as she headed out the back of the parlor. A moment later and there was nothing but her dress on the floor. Beyond that, following just a little, but not leaving the parlor, I saw her panties abandoned on the rug. So much for being an innocent schoolgirl. "I need a nap," I said, sauntering over the couch on which Louis and Andre were sitting. I guess a year makes a difference sometimes. Either that or the sheer rigor of what I'd been through, being anally probed, whipped the night before, fucked this morning. "Don't lie down here if you don't like my cock," Louis warned. I plopped down beside him anyway and let my head fall back into his crotch. It felt satisfied beneath me, though I detected perhaps a slight bulging when I looked up at him, babylike and parted my lips. "Goo," I said to Louis. "You're my daddy now. Please don't spank me for trying to take the world's biggest cock up my ass." "Go to your room if you want to sleep, Fleury," Rose told me. "We have a party tonight and the men need to save up their energy for it." She looked up from her knitting. "Where it counts." "Oh, I'm too tired to get up now," I said, yawning. "Up! Scat! Or I won't invite you to the party tonight," Rose told me. "I'll lock you up in your room and who knows who might visit you then? You'll have to lie awake all night waiting, just to see." Somehow I found the energy to spring up from the couch. "You are a bitch, Rose," I told our hostess. I stalked from the room, feeling quite mature and grown-up. I might be her guest, or, rather, a female brought here by my boyfriend Louis to be trained to be a love slave, but I didn't like being ordered around. Not all the time, anyway. I think I was getting grumpy in my sleepiness. Rose ignored me. Louis and Andre went back to reading their newspapers. I ascended the stairs, broad polished steps that made me feel like Scarlet at Tara. Now I knew why I liked this place. Mingled with the sense of submission was an extraordinary freedom. And binding it all was Rose's mindbending sense of elegance. I stopped to look at a Monet hanging halfway up the stairs. Water lilies. It was a reproduction of course, but it was still pretty. I proceeded up the rest of the stairs and down the hall to my room. I undressed slowly and carefully lay my schoolgirl clothes on a chair. Someone would come and hang them for me, or iron them, or wash them or whatever needed to be done, but I still wanted to be neater, at least, than Polly. When I stripped to my panties, though, I tip-toed to my window. I drew back the drapes. I took my underpants off and, leaning out the window just a little, I dropped them. They fluttered toward the ground. From a distance they looked like a handkerchief or, when the wind briefly caught them, like a dove. I watched them until they landed in the grass. Then I slipped into bed and pulled up my covers and waited to see if anybody would find them. My door to my room was unlocked. Perhaps he'd bring them to me, whoever he was, and graciously return them. Or perhaps he'd just be Branson, whip in hand, come with my panties and ready to scold me for tossing them out the window. I shuddered and turned on my side and tried not to think of that possibility. As I shut my eyes, sleep overcame me. I had slept perhaps an hour or two when, just lingering on the edge of sleep, I heard my bedroom door open. Rose entered. She had a folded parasol in her hand which she laid down just inside my door, as if she'd been out walking. She held aloft my panties that I'd dropped from my window. She let them dangle from her finger, significantly, it seemed to me. I felt a shiver run down my back to my tailbone. "You seem to have lost these," Rose said in a low, disciplined voice. "I-" What could I say? I should have put them away, I guess, but I wanted to be naughty. I wanted to tease and taunt passersby under my window. A man might have come to the castle to get closer to his wife and then, strolling along with her on the castle grounds, he might have seen my panties, the panties of a mere 14-year-old girl, and suddenly his mind might be gripped with an insensate lust for someone much younger than his wife. For me, Fleury. Rose moved closer to me and her figure, fully formed and with its dominant bust line, overshadowed me as I lay in my bed. Her breasts, couched in a low cut gown, but with a series of straps leading up to her neck where they formed a tight collar, loomed large and impressive. Twin hindenburgs, filled with hot air and ready to burst upon me. "May I remind you, Fleury, that while you are given many freedoms here at my castle, you are in fact not free. You are expected to behave as Louis' love slave, especially when he is present. He was not the least amused to find two young men eagerly inquiring as to the possessor of these panties. They seemed to think they had a right to return them to the 'poor girl,' as they called you, who'd 'lost' them. A fight almost ensued right in my living room. I had the men ejected, of course. They should not have been invited in the first place if they are going to let their lust get out of hand like that. But I mustn't let you go unpunished for such an indiscretion, clever and sexy as it might have been. Least because it caused me trouble, and that's enough of a standard for me." "Oh, I'm sorry," I begged her. I drew my covers tightly under my chin. "You are not Polly," Rose told me. "You are older, and more experienced. Do you wish to remain my guest at the castle, or should I send you home now?" She took my covers from my hands, persuading them out of my grip. "No-- no I like it here," I answered, truthfully, though I felt my tummy all aflutter. She pulled down my sheets and my bedcover and looked at my nude body. The panties, so important a moment ago, lay dropped on the covers and got rolled under them as she drew them down. "Look at you, you didn't even bathe before getting into your nice clean bed," Rose said. Then, speculatively, she took both my breasts in her hands and palped them, squeezed my tits a little, as if she might be picking up where Glenda had left off. "Polly resists sometimes, but I do not expect you to, Fleury. You are to obey. You are old enough to understand this. I will have Joanne and Sylvia come and bathe you. You are entitled to that, at least, as a prisoner. This is not a real prison, as I sometimes have to remind Branson. It is a prison of love. Your cuffs will be put back on after your bath, and your collar too. Then you will report to me, downstairs, and I will punish you for throwing your panties out the window." I felt my hands slip quickly beneath my bottom. "Oh, not on my heinie!" I begged. "It hurts still from last night!" "Wherever Louis wishes it, that's where it will be done," Rose said. She bent low and kissed my forehead. "You are loved, my dear. Never forget that. You are a captive of love. The men may mistreat you sometimes, but it is only because they enjoy seeing your young little body wriggling around, showing all your forbidden parts. There will be time enough in life for your mind, my dear. Now is the time for your body. We must awaken it to all the pleasures of life. Think of all the dowdy girls who long for love, but find none or, worse, find themselves shunned, ostracized by their peers because they're too fat, or wear glasses, or have stupid hair that just won't set right." "I still don't want to be punished," I mourned. "Of course you don't," Rose replied. "No girl does. I didn't. But a sharp slap on your beautiful fanny is nothing compared to what those other girls suffer, the ones who waste their lives reading Tiger Beat long after they should have outgrown it, because nobody likes them and nobody plays with them." Rose pulled down the front of her dress and her tits bulged out, her nipples and tit flesh extruded up by the bunched down gown. She offered me her nipples. They were coral-tipped, like jewels. "Lick my nipples," Rose told me. "Suck them, yes, ah like a baby you suck!" she exclaimed, as I, hoping perhaps to win a reprieve, took her nearest nipple tip in my mouth and sucked on it urgently. "Good, good," Rose told me, encouraging my hopes. I let my eyes bulge wide and I suckled her breasts as if my life depended on it for, indeed, my bottom no doubt did! When I'd made one of her jug-like breasts all wet at its tip with my saliva I went to her other one. I sucked on it just as greedily. I was hungry for her forgiveness. Rose seemed torn between lifting her dress and frigging herself and desisting. Alas for me, her conscience won out. "Enough!" she declared, and tore my lips from her bosom. "Go fill your tub. Joanne and Sylvia will be fetched and in attendance on you. Obey them. Do not fight them. Let them wash you and prepare you." "But-" I begged. I did not want my hard work to be wasted. "I will put in a good word with Louis," Rose replied. "You fucked him this afternoon while I was at child protective services," I snapped at her. Rose put her palm over my mouth. She lowered her teeth to my right nipple. She clamped her incisors over it. Within the cold grip of her teeth she let the tip of her tongue flick across my tender nipple tip. "Do you feel this?" she asked, squeezing my nipple harder with her teeth, making me really feel its presence. Her words were understandable despite her clenched jaws. "Yes!" I breathed. "I am in charge," Rose told me. I nodded, watching her bite my nipple. She unclenched it. Smiling, she lifted her head, licked her teeth with her tongue. Her hand found my other nipple and pinched it. "Ow!" I said. "One hour," Rose warned me. "Then I expect you to be downstairs and all ready for your punishment, whatever it may be. Tell Joanne and Sylvia to keep track of the time." "Yes, mistress," I said quietly. She unfolded my bedcovers. She drew my panties out of them and inspected them. Then she reached past my head and tossed them out the window. "What-?" I began. Her breasts swung over my face like ripe watermelon. "Love is obedience, my dear," Rose told me. She patted my face. "You will make a good wife someday because I will have trained you well." She turned and walked away from my bed, toward the door. I watched as her hips undulated with a blatant sexuality. She did not intend it, I think. She was just so perfectly formed, so fulsome, with a waspish waist, that her hips could do naught but invite the eye, and make men especially lust after her tail. I wondered if I might someday take a whip to her tush. The thought made my spot tingle. I don't know why, but seeing her bent over and howling sent a shiver of pleasure through my belly and up my thighs. Yes! Despite all she did to me, I vowed someday it would be my turn. I'd show her how well I'd learned all her love lessons. Her bottom would smart for days after from all my learning. I was presented by Joanne and Sylvia. I had a big pink bow in my hair. I looked utterly precious... FEMINIST STUDIES for Men! by Joe Klein For many years we males have been subjected to "feminist theory." It's main accomplishment was to declare, and then pass into law, the maxim that "All men are evil." Today, ladies, it's payback time. After all, I personally consider the sexes to be equal. What's good for the gander is good for the goose. Hence, our first maxim: "All women are evil." Notice I didn't say, "little girls are evil." (Though women do their best to make them so.) And I didn't say, "All teenage girls are evil." I am keeping my theories 'feminist pure.' If the feminists didn't say it, I won't say it. Next, having declared all men evil, the feminists ask, "What to do with them?" I agree. What to do with women? Generally, feminists declare men to be unnecessary. I agree! Women are unnecessary. Little girls are necessary. Teenage girls are necessary. Women are unnecessary. Feminists usually decide that if a man can't live with all the new feminist laws, he must be put in prison. (Preferably for life.) I agree. Let's get rid of all these goddamn women! Put them in prison, for life. After all, "All women are evil." Some women will claim I'm a misogynist. Really, though, I'm not. I personally don't have anything against women. They're often easier to deal with than men. Men are always playing a game of one-upmanship. Men organize themselves into a hierarchy. So whenever you're dealing with a man, the question always arises, "Is he the dominant in this relationship, or am I?" Dealing with a woman, there is usually only mutual respect and courtesy. A woman doctor, for instance, is not intent on demonstrating to me that we're in a hierarchy, and that she's above me. (Like a man would be.) She's the doctor, and I'm the patient. That's it. There's no "King of the Hill" game going on underneath the relationship. Nonetheless, not having anything against someone doesn't mean you wish to have -- what shall we call it -- a special relationship with them. For instance, I have nothing against the man who picks up my garbage. I endorse his RIGHT to work a job, picking up my garbage. But I don't want to climb in bed with him. The same goes for women. I mean, really, what does a woman have to offer? A woman is basically the same as a man, in my opinion. She works a job. I work a job. She worries over her taxes. I worry over my taxes. And on and on. I mean, what's the difference? I may as well have a special relationship with myself, or climb in bed with a man. Girls, on the other hand, are totally different. This week I'm reading the May 13, 1997 issue of Globe, about Michael Kennedy's 14-year-old girlfriend. What a unique and interesting person she is! And I'll bet lots of other 14-year-old girls are just as fantastic. But I'm told, "No, no, you may only ever associate with women." My answer to that? YUCK! I'd rather spend the rest of my life with 6-year-old JonBenet, on her naughtiest, most uncontrollable day, than spend a second of my life with, say, Michael Kennedy's ex-wife. So, returning to feminism: since all women ARE evil, what should we men do about them? I suggest a regime of Laws. Let's set up a legal system in this country that few if any women can ever hope to comply with. They'll all find themselves declared "predators," and be imprisoned. And don't forget the death penalty. After all, "Women. They're the WORST!" Yes, ladies. I really can't stand you. Like I said, it's okay dealing with you as doctors, (etc.) But I don't want to have a special relationship with you. I really can't even understand men I see, hanging around with women. (Especially since most women are way past their prime, in terms of attractiveness.) I mean, is the average man insane? That's not meant to be a rhetorical question. Anything a woman is, a girl is surely 10 times better. Prettier, more fun, more interesting, you name it. About the only criticism I hear of girls is, "Women are better conversationalists." Huh? Better to talk to? First of all, girls are more FUN to talk to. (I know this more by surmise than by actual experience, alas.) Secondly, if you really want educated talk, gentlemen, watch Charlie Rose. I watch it and McNeil/Lehrer every night. That's 10 hours of educated talk per week. Want more? There's C-SPAN's endless "About Books" program on Saturday and Sunday, plus Booknotes. Want more? There's books, magazines like The Economist, etc. And you won't just be getting some working woman's half-assed assumptions on Charlie Rose, or C-SPAN. You'll be getting your information direct from the world's most respected experts. Yet Charlie Rose gets low ratings. So obviously these men who claim they prefer women to girls aren't, in fact, interested in intellectual conversation. Is it sex you're after, men? Again, I would assume, a tight virgin is more fun to fuck than some woman who's motto is: "Been there, done that." Some men, apparently, like women because they're "sexually talented." Well, so's the local faggot. Why don't you go get a blow job from him? Really, I can't understand men's fixation with women. I don't have experience with girls, unfortunately, or with women (for which I thank my lucky stars), but it would seem to me that girls are a FAR better deal than women. Yet we see men collaborating with women every day to build and strengthen the NaziFeminist matriarchy we're currently living in. Oh well, that's my 2 cents worth. If I have any other thoughts on the relative worthlessness of women, you can be sure you'll read them here. FUCK WOMEN! (or, better yet, don't!) AND IN THE END... RACIST AMERICA Anyone remember Mel Reynolds? "The girl isn't talking -- nor is her family -- and the case will probably never get to court." - Newsweek, May 12, 1997, on Michael Kennedy and his underage lover. (pg. 50) (Congressman Reynolds' underage lover was jailed until she talked. - h.j.) -------------------------- 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 263 EMISSION - Late word from Joe Klein: "I wish to remain anonymous." -- +--------------' 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> /