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PRINCESS DI, ALL I ASKED FOR WAS A DATE !
What is it with women today? Do I have no luck whatsoever?
There I am, standing outside a hotel in France, hoping to ask Princess Di
to go out with me. And, after much delay (at least 15 minutes), she
finally appears.
So I approach her. I know, I know, it�s very bad to �loiter,� and to
�approach� females but, throwing all caution to the wind, I approached
her.
You know the rest of the story.
However, don�t believe the �drunken chauffeur� part of the story.
He wasn�t driving. It�s Princess Di who was driving. So it�s natural, I
suppose, that her car crashed. (Typical woman driver.)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: JOE CAMEL
Issue No. 294
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Pussy Playland
Chapter Three
When we were done eating our pieces of cake we licked each other�s
fingers clean. It was very sensuous. I�d never done something like this
before and I found sucking on each of Sherry�s digits fascinated me. I
wondered what it would be like to suck on her toes, or have her suck mine,
or have all three of us sucking each other. I felt wetter than ever between
my legs, and I still hadn�t gotten permission to pee.
Sherry picked up the bottle of champagne. I feared she would aim it
at me. Instead, as I backed away, she popped the cork and shot the
spurting contents all over Jeff�s dick. He howled with surprise. She hosed
him real good, getting his big thing all wet and directing the spray down
under his legs to shoot it all over his balls. He did not insist on
retaliating.
�Well, I�m glad you took that like a man,� Sherry smiled at him.
�Just pour me a drink,� he answered. �And then you two finish the
bottle.�
Sherry and I stared at each other. We already had to go to the
bathroom quite badly. Jeff passed up a chance at one of the two glasses
on the table and drank from the bottle directly. Then he handed it back to
Sherry and told her to fill our glasses with whatever was left. We each
had to drink two whole glassfuls and I found myself a little tipsy when it
was over.
�Don�t be worried about getting a little drunk. You�ll be glad for it
when we pay for all our crimes and misdemeanors,� Sherry assured me.
She took my glass from me and put it back on the table. It was quite
empty, and my tummy was quite full and sparkly.
Sherry turned to Jeff. She was wriggling and I was too. �Jeff, I
mean, Master, may we please have permission to pee?!� Sherry asked him.
Her face took on an anguished look and I saw she was standing with her
thighs pressed tightly together. I put my hand down to my pussy and held
it. I did really have to go, just like I used to when I was in kindergarten!
�You don�t have my permission, but if you want to get less
punishment for it you�ll use your champagne glasses and at least do it like
proper young ladies,� Jeff said. He slapped his thigh with his riding crop.
�Oh, thank you, master!� Sherry said, half campily, but to my great
relief, at least! She gave me my glass back and led me over to a little
drain set in the middle of the stone floor. �Crouch down. We�ll pee and
then empty our glasses into the drain.�
�Sherry, I have to go more than one glassful!� I told her.
�Well, you�ll have to stop your flow, then,� she answered. She
crouched down, eager to go. �Don�t pee on the floor or your hand, whatever
you do. You�ll get extra strokes for missing the glass or overfilling it.�
She began peeing. She�d played this game with her husband before, I
guessed, for when her glass was full she very neatly stopped her flow
with her abdominal muscles and held herself in while she emptied her
glass into the drain. I got down, crouching like a mare in the barn. How
could I possibly pee this way? It was so obscene! But one look at Jeff
with his crop assured me that I�d better find a way.
I peed into my glass. I couldn�t stop myself. It wasn�t my fault, I
told myself, I�d had to go longer than Sherry. But she scolded me, still
crouching and peeing herself, as she saw me overfill my glass.
�I�m sorry master,� I said with utter sincerity, looking up at Jeff.
�Extra strokes,� he replied. �You remember that one I have you in
the bedroom upstairs?� I reached back and touched my heinie and suddenly
found I was able to stop my flow.
�Yes,� I breathed. It still hurt. Fortunately it hadn�t formed a welt.
But I had no doubt if I stayed the night I wouldn�t be so lucky by morning.
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A R E A D I N G F U N D has been established for Stephen Knox, imprisoned
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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.
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Sherry and I finished our peeing. I was less than expert at it.
Tutting her disapproval, Sherry went to the kitchenette. She returned
with a soft wet towel and wiped me between my legs. �I daresay I got a
bit more than pee down there,� she scolded me.
�Well, I am a little excited,� I replied. She wiped herself too, and I
knew she was as liquidy between her legs as I was. Even Jeff was
dripping pre-cum. We were all quite enamored of each other�s bodies. We
had absolutely nothing on, and our surroundings were lewd, to put it
mildly. Everything down here seemed designed to inflict pain. I glanced
again at all the awful things that surrounded me. Whips, hanging on a
wall, dreaming of days past and hoping to be chosen again. A chair with a
seat I just knew, from the hinges at the back of it, that was designed to
fall away. There was a chafing dish down in the center of the chair�s
interconnected legs. It had coals in it, waiting to be lit. Talk about
getting a hot seat! A girl would find herself sitting on just a small ledge,
the rest of the chair�s seat gone, dropped away, and the chafing dish,
intended to cook food, would instead be used to cook her bottom!
�Come honey,� Sherry said to me. She took my wrist. �It�s time we
see which one of us gets whipped first.� She drew me in amongst the
equipment. I saw a long rubber mat laid down in amongst the implements
of torture. It was back behind the chair. It ran on and on, like a runway,
back through the machines. They�d been moved aside to accommodate it. I
saw that someone had covered it entirely with whipped cream.
�We have our cleaning lady set up the room for us when we want to
play,� Sherry said. �She came in while we were at the beach. She�s quite
old, and speaks only Spanish. She�s homeless, but she lives in a shanty
down the road.� I remembered passing a homeless settlement of illegal
aliens as we drove into the canyon. �She�s never told anyone, and I expect
her not to, either, or I�ll report her to INS. She�s cleans up the dungeon
afterward too, of course.� Sherry tossed her head. Her hair was luxurious
and brown, like the hills that enclosed us. I wondered if we�d ever be old
someday. �Anyway, this is our little competition. Jeff�s always made me
do it alone before. It�ll be fun to have someone to beat,� Sherry explained.
�Those two bolsters behind the chair are what you and I will get down on.
You have to ride it with your pussy against it, dragging it down to the
other end of the mat with you. You can lift your head and bosoms but you
have to keep your pussy against the bolster as much as possible. Jeff will
watch for infractions.�
�What happens when we get to the far end of the mat?� I asked,
staring into the gloom. It ended somewhere down there. Jeff flicked a
lightswitch and the shadows drew back. I saw more awful equipment, and,
running through them, the runway like mat layered with cream.
�At the end of the mat, you have to put your hands back behind you
and open yourself. This is to show Jeff you�re not using your hands for
this part of the contest. There�s a big soft pillow at the end of the mat,
one for each of us. Rest your chin on it. Above your pillow you�ll see a hot
dog. It�s cold and raw, but you have to eat it as fast as you can. It�s held
by a cock ring fitted near the base of the wall. I don�t know what the
people who built this dungeon used those screw-down rings in the wall for
but we just stick hotdogs in them. Each your hot dog right down to the
cock ring and lick and bite out whatever is left stuck inside the ring. The
wall is recessed to let you get at the ring, so don�t hesitate. And don�t
gag, either. Jeff knows CPR but he�s liable to pound you to smithereens
trying to do it. I don�t even let him practise it on me, he�s so rough. When
you�re all finished look for the whistle lying between our pillows. There�s
only one, and the winner gets it. Grab it using just your tongue and teeth
and blow hard. Then you�ll be the winner.�
�What do I get for winning?� I asked.
�It�s more like what you don�t get,� Sherry replied, and said no more.
Jeff made me sit down on the hot seat. I was deathly afraid he
intended to burn my bottom, but Sherry told me not to worry. He fitted big
iron rings to my ankles, right over the ankle straps for my shoes. He
locked them in place. They were connected by a heavy chain. When I stood
up I found the chain dragged along the floor when I walked. Fortunately,
the floor was smooth. Some workman must have labored down here for
months making the floor just right. Sherry assured me it wasn�t she or
Jeff. They�d bought the house this way, and simply added themselves to it.
�It was dusty down here when we first bought it, but that�s it,�
Sherry said. �Our cleaning lady cleaned it up for us, of course. It�s nice to
have a cleaning lady. I think maybe a child molester or drug dealer or
somebody owned this house before us. We found the dungeon on our own.
The realtor never mentioned it. And,� she looked at Jeff. �It definitely
wasn�t included in the price.�
Jeff put heavy iron manacles on my wrists. These he left unchained
so I could move my arms in front of myself or behind myself. I was
grateful for that. I felt more excited than ever as I watched Sherry put
into the same kind of manacles I wore. We were both so beautiful, could
we really be letting a man fit us out with irons? We had absolutely
nothing on but our chains. I looked at Jeff and saw he was inexplicably
hard, bigger even than he�d been earlier. The champagne had dried from his
cock but it shone with a kind of glow of its own. I longed to just skip the
competition and pledge and enslave myself to his penis forever. �His Royal
Penis,� I�d call him. Skip the royal punishment he�d promised us. His penis
was so huge it promised to be punishment enough, just trying to get it
inside me.
I looked at Sherry frankly as she stood up beside me.
�These are heavy,� she said, feeling her bonds. �You didn�t chain me
before, Jeff.�
�There�s a first for everything, and you promised you�d try anything
once,� Jeff replied.
�Sherry, are you going to let me love your husband as much as you
do?� I asked her. She looked at me.
�You mean, am I going to let him fuck you?�
�Well, yes, if I want him to,� I said. Jeff laughed.
�I guess so,� she replied. �But remember. We�re only doing this
once. After that he�s all mine again, and you go back to your beachball and
your mom.�
�You�re a bitch,� I said to her. �Jeff will like me better than you
when this night is over.�
�What a great time for a competition!� Jeff exclaimed. �Get on your
bolsters, girls.� He walked to the wall and hung up his crop and got down
a long whip.
�What�s that for?� I asked him.
�You don�t want to lose the race, do you?� he asked.
�No,� I said.
�Well, if you fall behind, I�ll whip your bottom, like a horse, so you�ll
race faster.� Jeff grinned at me.
�You�re so helpful, Jeff,� Sherry sighed. She looked at me. We were
a little less envious of each other now as we contemplated our mutual
fate. �There�s no polite way to do this, no matter what the rules,� she
said. Looking down, I could see that if I got down on that big bolster,
putting it between my legs so I could pull it down the mat to the other
end, I�d be showing off my tail. Not just a little, but a lot. I�d practically
be flaunting it!
�Did Jeff invent this game?� I asked Sherry.
�Yes,� she sighed. Without further ado she plopped down onto her
bolster. Like mine, it was encased it a white sheet-like covering, tied off
at both ends, to make it slide smoothly. There was some lace trim on the
bolster, making it pretty. I imagined it had come from some very nice,
white-sheeted daybed. The bed, of course, was nowhere to be seen.
Lying atop her bolster, Sherry�s thighs fell off it on either side,
much like when one lies atop a big horse. Her knees and calves lay frankly
in the cream of on the mat. Her elbows, too, were forced to take purchase
on the mat, where they sank into the cream.
�Under the cream is a layer of vaseline, just to make everything as
slick as possible,� Sherry said. She had to turn her head and look behind
herself, over her shoulder, to talk to me. Her hair tumbled down over her
slim shoulders and the ends of it skimmed the cream.
�Sherry, I can see your butthole and your pussy and everything, just
like you�re a newborn,� I said to her.
�I know,� she blushed. �Get down here beside me. You�re not
allowed to be a spectator!�
I flopped down onto my bolster. I could feel my pussy and ass open
up behind me as I spread my thighs to get myself properly down on my
bolster.
�These chains are going to slow us down and make us have to work
harder,� I said to Sherry.
�I know, dear. That�s why Jeff made us put them on.�
HOW TO CLEAN YOUR SEX TOYS
by holy joe
Some time ago I was reading a book on bondage. It was a
practical book, I suppose, for after talking about bondage itself, the
book mentioned that cleaning sex toys after bondage can be quite
annoying.
I decided to devote my mind to the resolution of this important
issue.
How do you clean your sex toys? Use Baking Soda. Go to the
grocery store and look in the �cake mix� section of the store. There you
will find boxes of Arm & Hammer Baking Soda. A box of Baking Soda
costs less than a dollar to purchase. With Baking Soda, I think, you will
be able to quickly and easily clean all your sex toys.
I tested my baking soda theory not on sex toys, but on my
hairbrush. I enjoy using a hairbrush (to brush my hair), but it gets
really greasy. Traditionally, I have cleaned my hairbrush with a
toothbrush. I rub an old toothbrush over a bar of soap and then rub the
toothbrush through my hairbrush. I stand at a sink with the tap running.
The downside of cleaning my hairbrush with a toothbrush is that
hair gets all tangled up in my toothbrush. Also, soap splatters all over
me and my bathroom.
Cleaning my hairbrush with baking soda is much easier. Here�s
how to do it:
1. Rip open a box of baking soda.
2. Pour the baking soda on to a dinner plate.
3. Put the dinner plate on top of a shelf, in an area of your house
that tends to smell bad. (Or anyplace at all.)
4. When it is time to clean your greasy hairbrush, first go to the
wastebasket. Stand over it and yank out all the hair from your
hairbrush and drop it into the wastebasket.
5. Rub your hairbrush in the plate of baking soda.
6. Now, go to the wastebasket. Bang your hairbrush against the
side of the wastebasket. This will cause all the baking soda to fall out
of your hairbrush and into the wastebasket.
7. Feel your hairbrush with your fingers. It�s not greasy anymore,
is it? Now you can clean it a little with a toothbrush and soap if you
wish, but you won�t need to do much scrubbing. Your hairbrush is
already quite clean.
See? Easy, huh? In summary, rub your comb, or your hairbrush, in
baking soda, and it will become clean. Now you have more time to play
with your sex toys.
AND IN THE END...
THE BENEFITS OF �NO GROWTH�
�The European Commission calculates that at any time there are
traffic jams stretching 25,000 miles on the European Union�s roads --
a problem that will worsen as car ownership surges in booming Eastern
Europe.�
- Newsweek, August 25, 1997, pg. 35.
(But don�t build more roads. Instead, live with Nature, and obey your
American masters. - h.j.) (Helms-Burton, you know!)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-END OF 294 EMISSION
- �Ultimately the great roads merely paved the way for the physical
conquest of western Asia by Greece and Rome, and the theological
conquest of Greece and Rome by western Asia.� - Will Durant on the
road network built by Persia�s King Darius 1. (The Story of
Civilization, Volume 1, pg. 362.)