Feature Writer: Punky Girl AKA Shannon
Feature Title: SUBURBAN GIRL 4
Story Codes: Fetish, Young, Snuff, Zoo, Domination, Sin
Synopsis: In the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio a young girl discovers that masturbation is a sin. But when she breaks a promise to God to stop her immoral actions she begins to see the Bible’s list of sexual restrictions as her most basic and carnal desires. Because for this 13-year-old suburban girl, sin and her wanton sexual needs go hand in hand as she struggles to endure a body built for sex, abuse, and constant orgasm. Inspired by the classic UseNet story “Farm Girl” by Dark Dreamer.
Suburban Girl 4
Looking back now, I can remember only one conscience attempt to defy my new master.
I know it sounds strange. I mean, I’d just been raped. My pussy was sore and full of his cum, my body and mind had both been put through the ringer by a man old enough to be my dad, and for nearly an hour and a half I’d been his captive. He’d let me go and suddenly I was free, but my reaction to such freedom was definitely not normal. Most girls would have felt relieved beyond imagining. Most girls would have gone straight to the police, or to a hospital, or to their parents. Most girls would have done something, and I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl who would have considered obeying the rules and commands her rapist had given her. But me? Well, those rules and commands were all I could think about during the walk home.
He wanted me to stop wearing underwear. Strange, embarrassing, but ultimately not that big a deal, I told myself. I mean, I could keep that a secret if I was careful, so what was the harm? He’d also told me to shave my pussy. Again, I considered this pretty strange, but some of my first thoughts after leaving his store involved which of my brothers’ razors I should steal in order to do the deed. Since I had no hairs under my arms yet, and was also too young to have hair on my legs, razorblades weren’t part of my usual hygienic repertoire. All of my brothers shaved, though. So while most girls would have been trying to decide between calling the cops or calling mommy and daddy, I remember thinking, “Tyler buys those disposable razors, and his shaving cream is for ‘sensitive skin’…”. The thought of going back to a hairless mound was both confusing and a little sad for me, it’s true, but the thought of not doing it never entered my stupid little head.
Then there was the homework assignment he’d given me. But as much as I hated homework, that was another command I never considered disobeying. The idea of committing to paper all the sexual thoughts and experiences I’d had since I was ten was both daunting and exhilarating.
Obviously I couldn’t include anything about the dogs. That was just too far out. But I knew immediately that I would write about everything else: about the fact that it turned me on when my daddy spanked me. That my first kiss had come from a woman. That I enjoyed flashing of my immature boobs to the guys at the Silver Star. I would write about the porn mags I read, how I liked masturbating at school, how I’d used a cucumber to fuck myself for the first time. I knew right away that I would share everything, except for that one thing– the fact that I’d been fucked by a pack of dogs– but I didn’t really consider that to be defiant. After all, would he really want to know that? I doubted it. Plus, I could see a loophole in his command. He’d told me to write about every person who had fucked me. Dogs weren’t people. Realizing this made me smile.
Smile. Yes, I smiled a lot during that walk home. Fucked up, isn’t it? And what’s even more fucked up were where my tears came from when they finally did occur. Not from the rape, not from the idea that I was to become a slave to a fat, ugly, and brutal master. No, they came from the fact that I wasn’t allowed to smoke anymore. Yes, that was bothering me most of all. That and the idea that I couldn’t cum again until time I was with him, that is.
Nicotine and orgasms were all that gave my rapidly surrendering sense of self pause. From the pain between my legs to my horny and confused brain you would think I’d have had bigger concerns. But during the walk home that cool Autumn day those two things were the only reasons I considered defying the video store owner. No orgasms. And no nicotine? I really, really didn’t want to obey either of those commands. And so it was that they were all that stood between me remaining an individual, and me turning into a pathetic little slave.
I got close several times to breaking those new rules. Several times I considered masturbating the second I got home, and several times I put unlit cigarettes to my lips. But none of those cigarettes were ever lit. When I finally did get home I went straight to the kitchen to get dinner ready for my dad and brothers, never touching myself intimately, even when I changed clothes upstairs in the privacy of my bedroom. I couldn’t, you see. It’s hard to explain but, well, for some reason I just felt obligated to follow the rules the video store owner had laid down. And so I did.
After serving dinner, and saying grace, my brother Tyler made a comment about it being “cold” in the kitchen. My other brothers snickered at that. My dad, oblivious as always to such things, remained silent. But I knew Tyler was making fun of me when I realized my nipples were as hard as diamonds and poking straight through the yellow t-shirt I’d changed into. My face turned beet-red as I tried to pretend I didn’t get his little joke.
The rest of dinner was excruciating. Though I never looked up to confirm it I could feel my brothers’ eyes locked onto my boobs. Ever since my body had begun to develop I’d noticed them checking me out from time to time, of course, but this was different. I was different. I’d actually been fucked, for real this time, and they were making fun of my hard nipples and obviously checking out my tits. Could they sense somehow that I was no longer a stranger to human cock? Did they want to fuck me, now, too? These thoughts swirled around my head as I picked at my meal, waiting desperately for the moment I could ask to be excused. With each passing second I cursed myself for not wearing a bra, cursed myself for not just staying in my school uniform, and doubly cursed myself for the fact that my naked pussy beneath my pants was actually growing wetter by the moment. What would my new master think about this when I wrote it into the assignment he’d given me? Because I would have to. Because I was getting hot from the idea that my brothers might see me as a sexual object. God save me.
Eventually, blessedly, dinner came to an end. I did the dishes quickly and then went back to my bedroom hornier than ever. I undressed. I laid down on my bed. I didn’t want to, God I didn’t want to, but I found my fingers drifting down between my legs more than once as I thought of Tyler, Jason, and Ron. Noticing my nipples. My own brothers, brazenly ogling my tits! God, they had looked at me like I was some kind of cheap slut. Suddenly I wished I’d looked up from my meal to see their expressions. My heart hammered in my chest as I struggled to control my intense horniness.
Remembering my master helped me regain control, but not before I did touch myself there and sigh at the feeling of my velvety pussy. But just like the unlit cigarettes to my lips earlier, my fingers refused to ignite a spark between my legs. My master had told me not to cum. It amazes me, even now, to recall how completely subservient I was. Even during that completely electrified moment I couldn’t disobey him.
Eventually I took a shower, a cold one. I used one of Tyler’s razors to shave away the pubic hair I’d recently been so proud of. It was so weird to see my pussy completely bald for the first time in months. I felt like a little girl again, a little girl with breasts and horny thoughts and an insatiable desire to please anyone in authority. After staring at my smooth, pink, and hairless pussy for several minutes I returned to my bedroom. I changed into my pajamas. Then I turned on my stereo and got to work on the homework assignment my new master had given me.
I worked on it for nearly two hours. When I was nearly done it was almost bedtime, and to my surprise my dad came to see me. As always he didn’t knock at the door before barging in. Thankfully I was sitting at my desk, writing in a notebook, and he had no idea what I was writing about. When he cleared his throat to get my attention I turned to him and smiled as innocently as I could. In truth my thoughts were anything but innocent, though. Writing about every sexual thought and activity I’d ever had or done had gotten me completely worked up again. I was wearing my pink flannel pajamas, without panties of course, and I was terrified that he might want me to stand up for some reason. If I did he’d definitely see the dampness between my legs. How would I explain that?
There was no need to stand up. He walked over to my desk, asked me how the homework was going, and then gave me a kiss on the top of my head. It was an uncharacteristic display of paternal love, and it sort of made me paranoid. I stammered, “Uhm, it’s fine, I’m almost all done.” And then he surprised me yet again.
“Your brothers told me you were later than normal getting home,” he said in his gruff voice. “Made me realize you’re gettin’ to about that age where you’re gonna wanna be spending more and more time with friends and such after school. I was thinking I ought to have a way to get a hold of you while you’re out and about… doing whatever it is girls do nowadays. So here.”
He placed a cell phone on the desk in front of me. My eyes widened at the sight of it. It was an older model but still: a cell phone! I was probably the only girl in middle school without one but my dad had always said there was no reason a child like me needed her own mobile phone. What had changed? The question made me paranoid all over again. Maybe it was true that getting fucked by a man ended a girl’s childhood; maybe men had a way of knowing when a girl had been deflowered. But if he really did know that I was technically a woman now would he really be giving me presents? That didn’t make sense either.
“It’ll be activated tomorrow,” he said, his voice still gruff. He sounded a little uncomfortable, too, but there was no way he was finding this moment more awkward than I was.
“Jason upgraded to a newer one last week. I already removed all his phone numbers and such. I left my number in there, though.
“Now, this don’t mean you don’t still have responsibilities around here,” he concluded, his voice tough and authoritative once again. “It ain’t no free pass to stay out with friends to all hours and whatnot. But, well. I suppose if once in a while you need to stay out later, the boys and I can cook up some microwave dinners. Now that you have a phone, you ain’t got no excuse for not letting me know ahead of time. Ya hear?”
“Y-yes,” I said. His words stunned me even more than the gift of the cell phone had. Ever since I was old enough to crack an egg or boil water I’d been expected to cook for the family. Now he was giving me permission, in his strange and angry way, to skirt that responsibility from time to time. Had the world completely changed the moment the video store owner had shot his load into my cunt?
He left after that without another word. For the rest of the night I anguished over what had happened. Why had he given me a phone? Why had he said it was okay to not cook dinner once in a while? That was totally unlike him. Ultimately I decided that he must have just realized I was a good girl who deserved such privileges. That’s what I wanted to believe. My more paranoid mind kept wondering if he somehow knew I had been fucked that day, but even back then I knew those thoughts were absurd. Looking back now, though, I actually do know the truth.
During dinner that night my brothers had subtly made fun of me for having tits. And for having nipples on top of them that were hard, and poking out into my shirt. My dad had pretended not to notice, but looking back I’m certain his eyes locked onto them as much, if not more, than my brothers’ had. That was probably the first time my daddy actually realized I had boobs. It wouldn’t be the last. But that day, that evening, he’d been so uncomfortable with the realization that his little girl had breasts that he’d decided to be nice to me. But it wasn’t for my benefit. No, it was for his. He felt guilty for ogling his 13-year-old daughter so he’d given me a cell phone and permission not to cook every day to alleviate his guilt. I went to sleep that night thinking that my dad had been generous when in truth his motives had been born of pure selfishness.
The next day I was so horny I nearly came during my morning pee. I didn’t, though, but probably would have if one of my brothers hadn’t been pounding on the bathroom door demanding that I hurry up.
I hadn’t been able to go to the dogs. Nor had I been able to finger myself. Trying to obey my master’s command not to cum until next I saw him was brutal to my young, horny pussy, though. It was begging for attention, screaming to be touched!
And things only got worse at school. I wasn’t wearing any panties and my heart raced every time I sat down, stood up, or walked quickly to beat the bell before my next class. If any of my classmates got so much as a peak up my skirt and saw my bald, naked cunt, I’d be the laughing stock of the school. Jody would have a field day with such knowledge and I had no doubt she’d use it to spread all sorts of other rumors about me. My only protection against the girl’s viciousness lately had been the fact that I was relatively boring. But if she found out I wasn’t wearing underwear, and that my cunt was bald? She’d have an absolute field day!
During third hour, History class, I sat in the front row as always and I almost couldn’t contain myself. My fear of social ridicule was nearly matched by my wanton horniness by then, and my teacher was a young woman named Sister Jessica who happened to be the only teacher at St. Mary’s who was actually attractive. As she lectured us about the battle of Gettysburg I kept wanting to spread my legs, wondering if she would notice my bald pussy if I did. But I kept my thighs together, despite my rampant desire to do something naughty and perverse. What I really wanted was a simple cum, but I knew I had to wait until I saw my master again. There would be no bathroom masturbation sessions for me today, just like there hadn’t been a session with the dogs the night before. I had to wait. I had to hold out!
It wasn’t easy to make it through the day both scared of my own shadow and horny as a porn-queen, but somehow I did. School ended and I got on the bus, so wet and breathless I could barely understand it. I practically ran to the video store once the bus dropped me off. I was so horny that that all my thoughts were in a jumble and the only thing I was sure about was the fact that at the video store I would finally get the release I so desperately needed.
When I got there my heart sunk. Because it was gone. Blue Moon Video was no more.
It had burnt down. As I rounded the corner from the bus stop I could see the charred remains of the building.
My jaw dropped as I got closer. None of the other stores in the strip mall had been affected but Blue Moon was definitely gone. I could smell sulphur and soaked wood as I stumbled into the parking lot. There were no fire trucks or anything around. It must have happened the night before. I kept walking until I was almost at the front door, or at least where the front door used to be. When I got there, and saw the blackened ruin inside, I started to cry.
How could this have happened? I wept piteously as the frantic, paranoid thought entered my head that the owner had gone down with his store. Was my master dead? Just like that? It made me so sad that I almost threw up.
Suddenly a vehicle started honking behind me. When I turned to look it was a big white van. It was parked near the back of the lot, and through its dashboard window I could see him.
He was gesturing for me to come over. In a daze, I did.
“Your store… it, it… ,” I said to him with disbelief.
“Yeah. It’s a, ahh, real shame.”
I sniffed away the lingering tears and nodded. He told me to get inside, so I opened up the passenger door and stepped up into the van. After taking my seat I dropped my backpack to the floor and just stared at it for a moment. I was so confused! Why was his store gone? How had it burnt down? And why had I gotten into his van without asking either question first? Who knew where he was going to bring me.
“Fires happen all the time,” he said as he started the engine. “Last night my, ahh, little business became a statistic. I’m fine with it, though. Sort of relieved, if I’m being honest. The insurance will, ahh, more than make up for lost business.”
I gulped and nodded my head. Reaching over my shoulder out of instinct, I grabbed my seat belt and began pulling it across my small body. He told me not to.
“I’m a safe driver, little one, and we don’t got far to go,” he explained. “I’m going to, ahh, bring you over to my house. Not far from where you live. We’ll have a lot of fun over there, you’ll see. Now pull up your skirt.”
He had just turned out of the parking lot when he said that. I looked up at him in alarm, but his eyes were on the road. When I didn’t move for a moment he did look over at me, though, and there was anger in his eyes.
“Well? Go on now, slut. I want to see if you did as you were told last night.”
There was no reason to defy him now, I decided. Slowly, and with my eyes darting around to make sure there were no big trucks or anything next to us, I pulled my skirt up. When my bald pussy came into view he chuckled and told me to turn toward him.
I did. He glanced down at my cunt, and grinned.
“You look excited to, ahh, see me,” he said. “You been excited all day? Excited to see your, ahh, master? I saw you crying when you saw the store was burnt away. Were you crying because you thought you’d never see my cock again?”
I knew he wanted an answer, and I saw no reason to lie. “Yes, s-sir,” I said softly. I was still holding my skirt back and his eyes kept darting over to it as he drove. My slender legs were only spread a few inches apart but he was definitely getting an eyeful. Yet he made no move to reach over and touch it. That’s what I wanted him to do. Reach over and touch me, reach over and finger me. One little touch would be more than enough to send me into orgasmic bliss. But he kept both of his meaty hands on the steering wheel as he chuckled.
“Small part of me wondered if you’d show up today. But I knew, I knew, you were the real deal. Bet you did your homework too, eh?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered.
“Get it out,” he commanded. “Read it to me.”
I let my skirt drop back down between my spread legs as I fumbled around inside my back pack. When I found the notebook I pulled it out, then held it tentatively for a moment or two. Finally I opened it and began to read.
“The f-first time I ever had an orgasm, I was ten,” I read softly.
“Use one hand to lift your, ahh, skirt again,” he scolded me. “And scoot your butt forward. That’s a good girl. Now, ahh, keep reading.”
I was leaning back against the passenger side door, now, and holding my skirt up with my left hand. With the notebook clutched firmly in my right hand I continued to read.
“I was taking a shower,” I said. “Lately I’d been rubbing my pussy a lot more than usual when I did that, but had never actually made myself cum. I didn’t even know what an orgasm was. My dad has always hated talking to me about normal stuff, and he’s never talked to me about sex stuff. When I had my first period he made me start shopping for the family and I was only ten! I remember going to him in tears because I was bleeding between my legs and all he did was get mad at me. He told me that if I was ‘bleeding’ now I was old enough to do the grocery shopping. The only thing he did do was tell me which products I should buy in order to deal with it. Because he was too embarrassed to buy tampons for his daughter.
“Anyway,” I continued to read after turning a page, “that first orgasm was amazing. Not as good as some I’ve had since but definitely memorable. It was a surprise. Rubbing myself down there had felt good but I’d never had that explosion before. So I was hooked. I did it every day. But all I ever did was rub. I didn’t ever finger myself because that seemed wrong. Eventually I found out that the rubbing was called ‘masturbating’. And in the 7th grade I found out at school that masturbating is a sin so I tried to stop.”
“We’re here,” he said.
I looked up from the notebook and realized we’d pulled into a small neighborhood I easily recognized. Every house in the subdivision looked identical: white siding, gray shutters, small front yards. He was pulling his van into a driveway, and the garage door was already open. I’d gone to a birthday party before in one of these houses, and knew that they were very small inside. After parking the van he killed the engine and I heard the groan of the garage door closing behind us. The video store owner turned to face me.
“When we get inside we’re going straight down to the basement,” he explained. “My, ahh, ex-wife will be stopping by any minute now to drop off my son. I have him for the weekend but I’m going to, ahh, give him $20 and send him over to a friend’s house. Once he’s gone the fun can begin. Understand?”
“Oh,” I replied. The revelation that this man had a son came as a surprise, but I snapped out of it quick enough to say, “I mean, yes, sir. Uhm, wh-what time do you think I’ll be able to go home?”
“That’ll be partly up to you, and how well you behave today,” he said. “Are you worried about a, ahh, curfew?”
I nodded. “I uhm… normally I have to be home by five, to make d-dinner. Fridays are pizza night, so I can stay out later, b-but if I’m not home by nine…”
He opened his door and started getting out. “It’s a ten minute walk from here to your, ahh, house. Behave yourself today and you’ll be able to leave by, ahh, 8:50pm, no problem.”
After his door slammed shut I, too, got out of the van. When I entered his house behind him from a door inside the garage I was led through yet another door, one that he had to unlock, and down a flight of stairs.
The basement was fully finished, and actually pretty nice. It had plush manila carpeting, beige colored walls decorated with tasteful paintings, and a very impressive entertainment system. There were large speakers set up along with remote speakers for surround sound, black glass-doored cabinets which contained about a billion DVDs, and a very nice (and expensive looking) full length leather sofa. It was a very large room, but I didn’t get a chance to examine the rest of it because he brought me straight to the couch. After he told me to sit down I realized something strange, though: there was no TV! Between the matching cabinets and speakers was just a blank, all white space where it looked like a TV should go.
I puzzled this as I took my seat in the center of the large sofa and he walked toward another area of the room, talking as he went. “My son will get here any, ahh, second now so I have to make this quick,” he said. “As soon as he gets here I’ll have to take care of him, and might have to give him a ride over to his, ahh, friend’s place. While I’m gone you’re going to be watching a special DVD I made just for you. It’s just over an hour long and, ahh, I think you’ll really enjoy it.
“And you’d better,” he said after returning to the couch. He had brought with him a cardboard box and was smiling down at me as I fretted anxiously with my long blond hair. “At least, you’d best pay attention to it. Because there will be a test afterward.
“Five questions,” he said as he sat his heavy frame next to me. The box was at his feet and he rummaged around in it before pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “Put your hands behind your back.”
“What?” I asked, startled by the sight of the handcuffs. “Wh-why?”
He slapped me across the face. “You don’t get to ask that,” he said with a voice full of menace. “Not ever. Now put your fucking hands behind your, ahh, back.”
I did. He grabbed me roughly behind my neck, then, and forced me to bend forward. Then he secured the cuffs, first to my left wrist, then to my right. They were tight, and the cold steel bit sharply into my skin. My heart raced in fear as I wondered what would happen next.
“Now,” he said. “To answer the question you, ahh, weren’t allowed to ask, the reason for these cuffs is simple. I don’t want you losing control as you watch this DVD. I can’t trust a slut like you to resist touching her cunt. And I don’t want you to, ahh, cum, not until my cock is deep inside your twat again. Understand?”
“Yes, y-yes,” I said, blinking away some tears. “Sir, I mean. Yes, sir. I, uhm, understand!”
“Back to the test,” he said. He was talking quickly now, obviously trying to explain everything before his son got there. “By the time the movie is, ahh, done, I’ll be back here and we’ll be alone. And I’m going to ask you five questions about the various, ahh, clips I put together for this DVD. If you pay careful attention to it, you should have no problem getting all of them right. But if you don’t pay attention, and get any of my questions wrong, you will be punished.
“The severity of your, ahh, punishment will depend on how many questions you don’t answer correctly. If you only get one wrong, you will be spanked ten times by my bare hand. Not too bad, I know. You seemed to enjoy that yesterday. But the more you get, ahh, wrong, the worse the punishments get,” he said. Then he reached down into the box and pulled out a hairbrush. It was made of wood and was a bit larger than the kind I used to brush my own hair, but he seemed pleased with it as he held it up for my inspection. “You get two wrong, and I, ahh, will use this to spank you 20 times.”
He was smiling broadly now as he let me examine the brush. I gulped in fear at the thought of that hard wooden thing smashing into my cute little butt. Then he reached back down into the box and pulled out a ping pong paddle. Its handle was beige in color but the large circular hitting surface was blue, and their was a small hole carved into it directly in its center meant to lessen wind resistance.
My eyes widened at the sight of it. I knew what he was going to say it was for, but the idea of being hit by that thing was horrifying. Each blow to my butt would land on almost every part of it! I gulped again when all he did was grin at the expression on my face, put the paddle away, and say, “Thirty with that one. And that’s, ahh, nothing compared to what will happen if you get four wrong.
“If you do, you’ll be spanked 40 times. And I’ll, ahh, be using this to do it.”
The object he held up for my inspection now was unknown to me. It was all black. Its handle was long, maybe 10 inches, and thin. But from the top of that handle were even longer strips of leather. Nine long strips of leather, each ending in hard little balls made of God knows what. He made a swatting motion with it into the air. The way those lengths of dyed cow-skin cracked into the air frightened me even more than the paddle had. They looked ruthless, and seemed certainly capable of ruining my pride and joy: my cute, pubescent ass.
“On the off chance you get all five questions wrong,” he said, “you will be punished with whatever tool I just, ahh, showed you, depending on my mood.”
Suddenly a ringing sound filled the air as he continued to dangle the cat o’ nine tails in front of my face. At first I thought it was my cell phone ringing. But then he stood up and sighed.
“That’s her,” he said after pulling a cell phone from his pocket. “She’s here with my son. I didn’t get a chance to tell you what will, ahh, happen if I find your homework unsatisfactory. But trust me, it will be like a hundred blows from this.” He waved the cat o’ nine tails in front of my face a final time, then tossed it back down into the cardboard box.
“One last thing. Stand up,” he commanded. I complied but I had to struggle a little to get to my feet, what with my wrists still handcuffed behind my back. When I was standing he roughly turned me around and then unzipped my skirt. He pulled it down my legs, gave one gentle slap to my firm young butt, then told me to sit again. He smiled at the sight of my half naked body and then said, “Enjoy the, ahh, movie.” Then he grabbed the notebook I’d used to do my homework in and walked away.
My heart was still pounding. I mean, how was I going to have a chance to get his test questions right when it was obvious I wouldn’t be able to watch the DVD he’d just told me to study? He didn’t have a TV! He had an awesome entertainment system, minus the television. Was this some cruel joke? With my hands cuffed behind my back, I turned and watched him go. Pure desperation was on my face. I struggled to think of a good way to ask him how I could watch this DVD he’d made for me.
Just before he disappeared up the stairway he provided the answer. Because when he flicked off the lights to the room the speakers came to life. And that white space between the cabinets and speakers suddenly filled up with a dull black glow. Up and behind me, I suddenly realized, was a projector. Just like at the movie theaters.
And it was good quality. When the first clip started I forgot all about my tears and waited with baited breath for it to begin.
The large, blank space was suddenly filled with the image of two young girls, one about my age and one even younger, kissing each other on a big pink bed. I was in awe. Both of the girls were extremely cute and one of them was already topless. The younger one, who had pig-tails, was wearing a tight tee shirt. The older girl pulled it off of her after they’d been kissing for about a minute, and before long both were naked. The clip had no sound and was definitely amateur quality but even so I was fully loving it. That clip ended after the older girl with the bigger boobs began to go down on the smaller, younger one. That was disappointing but the next clip was even better.
Another young girl, this one probably about my age, was on her knees in a recliner. She was naked and smiling and the video quality was a lot better. Two groan men, probably about my dad’s age, were standing to either side of her. You couldn’t see their faces but you could see their cocks because they were pointing directly at the girl. The camera operator asked her, “Tell Daddy what you wanted for your birthday, Clarissa.” The girl giggled and said, “I wanted two cocks, Daddy!” The cameraman answered, “Well, there they are! Show Daddy what you want to do with them.” Predictably the girl began to blow one of the cocks while she jerked off the second one. She alternated between the two, all whilst keeping her body and small boobs faced forward toward the camera, only turning her body just enough so she could reach the men standing next to the recliner. After she made them both cum on her face she waved goodbye as the scene faded to black.
Each clip was like that. Always young girls, always amateurishly done but with varying degrees of quality. Some of the girls were white, some were Asian, one was even black. But each scene seemed hotter than the next. Each one seemed to up the ante of the previous one, leading to full penetration, multiple partners, and hard-core lesbian action. One memorable clip was actually between a girl who said she was only 11 (she looked it) and a woman claiming to be her mom (and looked like she could be).
I watched each clip with a fevered intensity and a squirming butt. I was dripping wet but couldn’t touch myself. It was excruciating! I was trying to memorize every detail of every clip for the test ahead, but it was hard to focus on anything but the action. When a cock slid into a tender teen or tween cunt, that’s all I could see. When one girl fingered herself whilst talking to the camera about her life, I couldn’t even remember her name by the time she’d cum. I’d been too focused on her fingers shoved up her twat. Because I kept thinking, and hoping, that if I could just slide my butt across the surface of the couch a little bit more; or rub my pale thighs together a bit more tightly, I’d finally have the orgasm I was in such a dire need for.
Keep in mind that as I watched these videos I had no idea that the girls in them were performing against their will. Even when some of them cried, or at least never smiled, I just figured they were doing that because their masters had told them to. I figured that all of these children were like me: more or less willing participants in a game concocted by men like the video store owner, men who had realized that each of these girls was addicted to sex the way I was. It never occurred to me for a second that these girls were being molested, or raped, or exploited in any other way. In one clip the girl, a cute little red head who was probably not even 10, cried for her mommy while the cameraman fucked his cock into her prepubescent hole. And I got off on that because I figured her tears were fake.
It never occurred to me that any of these girls weren’t enjoying what they were going through.
I was more concerned with my own barely teenage pussy. It wanted to be touched. It wanted badly to be penetrated. But there was nothing I could do. My hands were tied, quite literally. And all the squeezing of my legs and sliding of my butt over the leather couch couldn’t get me off. I needed an actual fuck.
My master returned just after the final clip ended and the first one began again. Just as he’d promised. By this time my half-naked body was so worked up that I had become animalistic in my desire to cum. When he walked over to me my eyes were dull and I was humping my butt upon the couch as best I could.
He watched me for a moment from the end of the couch, lifting my butt up as best I could and then slamming it back down onto the leather seat as I groaned at the images in front of me. Finally he walked over in front of me. The images from his projector covered his body as he said, “Ready to cum, Slut?”
“Yes, please!” I groaned. Thinking quickly I added, “S-sir!”
He got on his knees in front of me then and forced my legs apart. He grabbed me by my upper thighs and pulled me forward, and my slick pussy and sweaty butt slid toward him easily. My weight crushed down on my arms, still bound behind my back, but I didn’t care. Because he was licking me now.
I’d never had a tongue on my cunt before. At least, not a human tongue. And his was so much better than Marshall’s had ever been. He made one slow lick up my slit and that alone nearly made me climax.
“What happened in the fourth, ahh, clip?” he asked.
My mind was a blur. He’d just licked up my bald vagina, from my pussy hole to where my slit ended. The feeling had been so intense I couldn’t think straight. So I didn’t even try to remember what the fourth clip had been. After all, getting one question wrong only meant I’d be spanked ten times by his hand.
“I d-d-don’t… ohh…”
His grinning face remained between my legs for a moment, then he went to town. He nibbled, lightly, on my labia. He licked around it while avoiding my clit. Then he broke away from my most private part and asked, “In the second clip there were two cocks. Which one, ahh, exploded on the girl’s face first?”
Again, I had no idea, and neither did I care. His tongue had gone back down to my hole. It was tracing its circumference, but not delving in. If it had gone in, even just a little, I definitely would have climaxed. Instead I just whimpered and managed to say, “The left, the left!”
I didn’t know if I got that one right and didn’t get a chance to ask him if I did. He immediately asked me the third question.
And the fourth.
And the fifth.
He kept asking me questions, eating me out the entire time. It was so unfair. How could I concentrate on a test while being eaten out? Each question came when the only thing I cared about was the hope that he’d finish me off and finally make me orgasm. But he never let me. So each of my answers was stupid. I kicked my feet out, I thrust my naked cunt into his face, and I cried and moaned with my hands cuffed behind my back. But his tongue never found my clit and I never gave him a correct response. And then, suddenly, he was glaring up at me from between my splayed white legs, a smile on his glistening face.
“You, ahh, got all five wrong.”
“No, no,” I whimpered. My butt was still tender from the light spanking he’d given me the day before and it tensed at the thought that it was about to get beaten. “L-let me try… let me try again!”
He ignored my plea. Instead he stood up, grabbed me by my sweaty blond hair, and pulled me up to my feet.
I screeched in pain but the orgasm I had been hoping for was not forgotten. There was a flare between my legs, a flare I wanted desperately do ignite, and even as he led me by my hair and my scalp screamed for mercy I kept hoping he was going to finally fuck me.
When we reached the back corner of the dimly lit room he threw my tiny body over an ottoman. I panted with relief when he let go of my hair. I found myself thrusting my 13-year-old butt upward even as I squirmed my upper body in discomfort from my handcuffed wrists behind my back. My stomach and rib cage dug into the leather recliner’s footrest as I continued to hope, and pray, that he was finally going to get me off.
Then he reminded me that I’d gotten all five of his test questions wrong.
“Fifty blows, 50 blows,” he chuckled. I remained in position bent over the ottoman even though he’d walked away for a moment. I could hear a rustling sound and knew he was retrieving something from that box.
As he approached me again I finally realized he wasn’t about to fuck me. Far from it. He was about to punish me. He was about to hurt me. And for some reason this excited me even more. All I could do was catch my breath and await his arrival as my juices continued to trickle down between my thighs.
“No, ahh, hands today, you little slut,” he said, even though his hand had gripped my ripe round butt. “I graded your homework. It was, ahh, very impressive. Very detailed. I give it an A. Too bad you failed the, ahh, test.”
His hand let go of my butt and for a moment I felt relief: he was unlocking the handcuffs. But just as my arms came free he twisted them around in front of me and snapped the cuffs on again. Apparently he just didn’t want my arms behind my back anymore. I began to whimper as he squeezed my ass one more time before a whistling sound emanated from behind me.
When the ping-pong paddle crashed into my butt-cheeks all I could feel was agony. For a moment, at least. I knew it was the paddle because my entire butt lit up with pain on that first strike. But right after I grunted I could feel my pussy dripping even more intensely. And then my master was taking a knee and whispering in my ear.
“That was ‘one’,” he said softly. “You’d better start counting after each, ahh, hit. Or I might forget how many we’ve done.”
After he hit my butt for the second time I screamed, “TWO!”
And I was sobbing. I really was. From the pain, yes, but also from my pent-up sexual frustration. I hadn’t had an orgasm since he’d raped me in the back of his video store, which was now burnt down. That orgasm had happened just over a day before. I hadn’t gone so long without a cum since the time I’d been taught masturbating was a sin. And back then I did everything to avoid becoming sexually aroused. I certainly hadn’t had anyone eat me out and then bend me over to spank me!
I was determined to keep count with the blows, despite my blubbering, despite the pain.
Each cry got worse than the last. My entire butt was definitely bruised. But each time I heard that whistling sound all I could do was choke, sob for a moment, then scream out the next sequential number. I was on number 25, halfway done, when he offered me a way out.
“I can, ahh, keep going to 50,” he said. “Or I could stop right now. If I do stop, all you have to do is blow me. Suck my, ahh, cock again, the way you did yesterday. But I won’t get you off. If you let me finish, ahh… then after 25 more blows I’ll fuck you. I’ll put my cock up into your, ahh, cunt. What’s it going to be?”
I breathed over the ottoman. For a brief moment I considered taking the deal. My ass was in terrible agony, a pain so intense that it actually eclipsed my pent up sexual frustration for a second. That faded, though.
“I-I c-can take m-more. Sir!” I finally said, choking out the words in pathetic sounding little sobs.
That’s when he started using the cat o’ nine tails.
“Let’s see if that’s true,” he laughed just before crashing the terrible strips of leather across my poor butt.
All in all I would have to say that the cat o’ nine tails was definitely more painful than the paddle had been. While it didn’t strike as large an area as the paddle, it was definitely a sharper, more intense kind of punishment. I choked and screamed in terror after the first blow from the horrible thing. Somehow I managed to cry out the next number and the number after that. We were well into the 30’s when, thankfully, he tossed aside the cat o’ nine tails. I honestly don’t think I could have put up with anymore.
“If I, ahh, use that much more I’m gonna draw blood unless I go easy on you,” he explained coldly. “And I, ahh, have no intention of going easy on you, slut.”
I trembled from head to toe as I awaited the next blow. More than anything I wanted it to be over so that his cock would be inside me, so that I could finally cum! Each blow was registering as both pain and pleasure in my messed up pubescent head. Even as my ass reddened my pussy dripped and quivered. But the video store owner seemed to enjoy taking his time. He debated out loud whether to switch back to the paddle or choose the hairbrush instead. All I could do was squirm my half naked body on the ottoman and whimper stupidly as he decided.
The 38th blow came from the all too familiar paddle. God, there was no way I’d ever look at a ping pong table the same way ever again! I cried an cried my way into the 40’s and then, just as the 49th blow landed, he stopped. “One more from the cat,” he said.
I braced myself for the 50th and final blow. It was a big one. A huge one. He might have even taken a running start for all I know. It felt like he did. When those nine long straps of leather smacked down across my tender flesh I shrieked so loud I could have broken mirrors. I’m proud to say though that, even though the pain was excruciating and the torture I was going through was unbearable, I somehow managed to work the word “fifty” into my screams and sobs.
I cried and whimpered after that. For how long I have no idea. All my master did was rub my horribly abused little butt as I struggled to gain control over myself. My body, meanwhile, was ringing from the pain and bracing itself for yet another blow. My mind was having a hard time believing that my punishment was actually over. As that realization slowly dawned, though, my crying transitioned into breathless panting instead. Because I knew what was going to happen next. I was going to get fucked. I was finally going to be able to cum.
After calming down completely my master helped me up. I cringed as I stood erect with my wrists handcuffed together in front of me. It was going to be absolutely awful sitting down the next day, I knew. But as my large, overweight master gently took my wrists in one hand and held them up so he could unlock them, I truly believed I’d made the right decision. I was about to get fucked! I could have quit at 25 blows but I endured the torment and now I was going to receive my reward. My master even wiped away a lingering tear off my cheek and smiled down at me. “You, ahh, did good, kid,” he said softly. All I could do was give him a red faced, teary eyed smile.
“Take off the rest of your, ahh, clothes.”
While I took off my shirt, stockings, and shoes, the video store owner walked over to a couch in this corner of the basement room. It wasn’t leather like the other one but it was big and comfortable looking. I wondered if he planned on fucking me on that. Instead he tossed aside the three big seat cushions and unfolded a bed. It didn’t have any sheets on it, but it seemed like he had everything planned. He walked over to a small table next to the recliner that the ottoman I’d been bent over belonged to and retrieved not only sheets but a pack of cigarettes.
I was completely naked but made no attempt to hide my nudity from him as he approached me. He was smiling and opening up the pack of smokes. “Here,” he said, handing me one of the menthol cigarettes. “Part of your, ahh, reward. When you do good, Becky, your master rewards you.”
My heart swelled at the sight of the cigarette. I took it and quickly placed it between my lips. After he lit it for me he began to put the sheets on the fold-out bed while continuing to talk.
“I will be a, ahh, harsh master for you, in case you didn’t realize yet,” he said. “But when you do good you will enjoy previously denied pleasures. You have to, ahh, earn these pleaures, of course. And you will be tormented whenever you fail me or displease me. But you need to know that you can always, ahh, redeem yourself. Understand?”
I was just exhaling the first delicious breath of nicotine I’d enjoyed in over a day. A bit light headed from the rush I said, “Yes, Sir, I think I do.”
“Good. Now, that cigarette is the first part of your, ahh, reward. It’s for taking the 50 blows like a trooper. After you finish it you’re going to enjoy the second part. That is, I’m going to fuck you the way your church taught you God wanted. The, ahh, missionary style. I noticed in your homework that you, ahh, seem a bit obsessed with what your so-called God wants you to do. I think you get off on breaking His, ahh, rules, because for you it’s terribly taboo. But I think you’ll also get off a lot when, ahh, you think you’re doing His will.”
I nodded. I didn’t realize while I was writing it that I’d mentioned sinning, the Bible, and sex so many times in my homework assignment. But as he explained this to me I realized I had. He was right, too. Because the moment he said “missionary style” I’d nearly fallen over. It was the one position we’d been taught about in my sexual education class at St. Mary’s. The Sister who’d taught the class had actually said that God frowned on any other position. I could almost hear her shrill voice explaining, “A man laying upon a woman, joining his flesh to her, is how our heavenly father taught Adam in the Garden. This was His plan for joining the sexes together and it is Holy.” The thought of being fucked in a Holy fashion actually made me even hotter.
When I finished smoking the cigarette my master was naked, too. As much as I wanted to be fucked by him, the sight of his naked body was a bit of a turn off. His large gut. His ample man-boobs. His middle aged face and balding head. But then I saw his cock and I forgot about all that. It was already hard and pointing directly at me. It was the only thing on his person I found attractive but what did it matter if the rest of him was Brad Pitt or John Goodman? The cock was what mattered. I laid down on the bed without being told.
He crawled up over me and gazed down on my tiny, fresh teenage body. I squirmed a little, but only because my butt hurt so bad. He asked me if I was nervous and I told him I was, because it was true. I wanted to get fucked so bad, but I had no idea what I should be doing. Should I try to kiss him? Or play with my tits? Maybe I was supposed to beg for his cock. Just then I realized that my arms were at my sides and my legs were together, too. Not exactly an inviting position. I smiled a little and bit my lower lip just as he brushed my long hair away from my face. Then I slowly spread my legs and waited for what he would do next.
My heart pounded as he repositioned his lower half between my spread legs. His gut was dragging against the bottom of my developing boobs but rather than being disgusted by the sensation of his hairy tummy, I actually sighed with pleasure. Then he began to lower his midsection between my legs. I bit my lip again just as the head of his cock made contact with my other pair of lips.
He had to really work to get inside me. I helped as best I could by sliding back my feet and angling my pelvis up toward him. I thought about helping guide him in but his fat stomach was in the way. Ultimately he gripped his own cock, placed it down at my hole, and just pushed.
I groaned as I came. The second his fat cock-head entered me I curled my toes and exploded with an orgasm. And though it was a great relief, my young body wanted more. My legs came to life and suddenly wrapped themselves around his hairy backside as he pushed himself into me. My arms came to life, too, and wrapped around his midsection. By the time he was fully implanted inside my tight cunt I was basically clinging to him as his cock fucked into me. The first cock, canine or homosapien, to fuck me from the front.
He was really pounding me when my cell phone began to ring. I was screaming so loud with pleasure that I didn’t hear it at first, but the sound became clear when he stopped thrusting in and out of me.
“What’s that?” he said.
I didn’t want to believe it at first but it was definitely my cell phone ringing. During lunch period earlier that day I had selected a very specific ring tone for all incoming calls on the cell phone my dad had given me the night before.
My master pulled his cock out of me and I gasped at the sensation of his cock exiting my cunt. I felt empty, now, and was struggling to think of something to say.
“Your cell phone, the one your dad, ahh, gave you yesterday,” he said. He was walking away from the fold-out bed and toward the leather sofa across the room. “You mentioned it at the end of your homework assignment. Someone is, ahh, calling.”
I propped my body up by my elbows and watched as he rummaged around inside my purse. Then he was walking back towards me, holding the tiny flip-phone in his hand and grinning. That damned ring-tone was still going off and I was still horny as fuck. By the time he got back to me the ringing had stopped but he was grinning from ear to ear, looking silly as hell what with his hard cock and fat, middle aged body. He crawled up on top of me again and pressed the phone into one of my small, immobile hands.
“Call him back,” he said.
“Your dad,” he said. “You shouldn’t keep him waiting. He might, ahh, get suspicious.”
He had repositioned his cock against the entrance of my pussy. My eyes narrowed in confusion. I said, “I can, uhm, call him back… after you, uhm, finish, right?”
“No,” he said forcefully as he got ready to press back into me. “You’d better, ahh, call him now. Right now.”
He began pressing his member into my hole and I sighed with pleasure at the sensation. By the time half of his cock was inside my tiny body I hadn’t made a motion to comply with his request. I mean, how could I? How could I talk with my dad while being fucked by this man? I grunted and groaned with pleasure as he forced himself back into me and dropped the phone from my suddenly weak hand. That didn’t end it though. Actually it made things worse. Because he retrieved the phone and just as I felt the scratchy hairs of his pubes grinding against my freshly bald cunt he flipped the phone open.
He put it to my left ear and finally I grasped it. I groaned with pleasure as the phone rang once, twice. I held out hope that he wouldn’t answer until suddenly I heard my dad’s voice say, “Yeah?”
“H-hi, D-daddy,” I said, trying to control my small voice. “Ddid you… call?”
He scolded me for not answering the first time he’d called. My master, meanwhile, seemed to love the idea of fucking me as I spoke with my dad. He fucked himself in and out of me with long, slow strokes, even while I was trying to talk. When my dad was done berating me I struggled to control myself and said, “Uhm, I-I’m still figuring th-this thing out… uhm… Is everything o-okay?”
My master had placed his hands on my thighs and was now pulling himself up into more of a kneeling position. My body clung to his while he did this, his cock buried deep inside me, and suddenly he felt even deeper than ever. My butt was up in the air but my shoulder-blades rested on the bed as I tried to focus on talking to my dad on the cell phone.
“No, I was j-just working out… at Lucy’s… so I-I’m a little ow-out of breath,” I said to him, coming up with the only excuse I could think of for why I’d be panting while I talked to him. There was no way I could control my heavy breathing, after all. Heck, it was all I could do not to shriek out in pleasure! My master was enjoying my body in this new position, and so was I. He was so deep inside me I felt as though his cock was touching my lungs. I said, “No, Lucy’s a n-newer friend… yeah… I know, 9 o-o’ clock… sh-sure, I w-won’t forget… d-did you want me to, do… uh, that, after my chores?… Oh, oh-okay. I’ll s-see you t-tonight. I l-love you, Daddy… buh-bye.”
After snapping the phone shut I screamed. It was a scream of wanton sexual pleasure I’d been suppressing during my conversation with my dad. I didn’t want to admit it to myself but for some reason talking to him while my master slowly fucked me had gotten me so horny that I was exploding with a tremendous orgasm already. The sheer naughtiness of it– a little girl talking to her daddy whilst some strange old guy fucked her– had blown my mind. I continued to scream during my long climax as my master started to really pound me again. He let my butt drop back painfully to the mattress and was crushing his heavy body onto me again just as I finished cumming. I felt pleasantly numb all over as he rapidly fucked me. He was saying things, but I couldn’t really understand them. I felt drunk. I felt wonderful. I felt relieved.
After he finally came inside me he rolled off and laid on his side. He was struggling to catch his breath as he stared at me with a smile on his round face. All I did was lay there, breathless myself, staring up at the ceiling. He began playing with my breasts and said, “So, ah, what did you daddy want?”
I took a deep breath to try and calm my racing, post-orgasmic heart and said, “He just… uhm, he wants me to wash his truck tomorrow. I always do chores on Saturdays.”
“I’ll have to drive by and watch you,” he grinned. “Now, ahh, how does it feel to have my cum up inside you? Does it, ahh, turn you on as much as it did yesterday?”
I kept forgetting he’d read my notebook. “Y-yes,” I replied. “Sir. Yes, Sir. It feels… good.”
“Good,” he said. “I like cumming inside you. And, ahh, I can’t get you pregnant because I’ve had a vasectomy so we, ahh, don’t have to worry about that. Eventually I won’t be the only, ahh, person fucking you, though. So tomorrow I’m going to bring you to this clinic I know about. They were, ahh, in the newspaper last week. Apparently some, ahh, Christian groups have been protesting them for giving abortions and providing underage kids with condoms and birth control pills.”
“Oh,” I said. For some reason I felt disappointed. I had kinda gotten off on the idea that I might get knocked up. But then I realized something: he wanted me on the pill? That was a huge no-no at my church. The thought of being the only girl at school taking the pill, of breaking yet another rule I’d been taught, actually turned me on. God, how sick is that? My master had been right earlier when he’d pointed out that I seemed to get off on breaking God’s rules. It made me feel ashamed, suddenly.
We went back to the leather sofa after that. He made me sit in his lap (or, technically, on his left thigh), which was really uncomfortable since my butt hurt so bad. He wanted to be able to play with my pussy, though, and that I had no problem with. He started the DVD I’d watched earlier and this time we watched it together. He loved asking me questions while we watched it. How old did I think that girl was? Which girl would I rather eat out? Did I like the idea of having two cocks to blow? And so on. Occasionally he gave me a little orgasm and eventually he had me get on my knees so I could give him one. I still wasn’t very good at giving blow-jobs but I was getting better and had a very willing teacher. After cumming on my face he made me lick it off the way I had the day before and then I got back in his lap.
He touched me constantly. My breasts, my thighs, even my sad young face. Why was it sad? I don’t know. I had just had the best sex of my life, my master was being nice to me, and all my sexual desires were being fulfilled. But looking back now I don’t remember smiling often, or giggling gleefully on the lap of my master. Even during the good times when I was getting everything my confused young mind wanted I just didn’t smile much. Occasionally, sure I did, but those times were rare. I guess there was a part of me, deep down, that was horribly ashamed of myself for doing what I was doing. In any event my sad expressions didn’t seem to bother my master. Lord knows he smiled more than enough for the both of us.
We spent the rest of the evening with me on his lap, his hands all over me, and the movies that turned me on so much playing on the wall. Just before I had to go he got hard again and made me blow him but thankfully it didn’t take long. I ended up getting home with five minutes to spare before my curfew kicked in.
I was allowed to masturbate again, my master had told me, and that night I did. And then I dreamed of gang-bangs and phone calls and awoke the next morning with the sorest, most bruised up ass I’d ever had.
At the breakfast table that morning I served pancakes to my brothers, all of whom were excited because they were going to a basketball game that night and a football game the next day with my dad. I noticed they were ignoring me completely. Maybe they felt embarrassed about the way they’d been looking at me during dinner Thursday night. Or maybe it was because I was wearing my “chores” outfit and didn’t look sexy at all. In either case I just sat there quietly, not saying a word, until my dad brought up something that piqued my interest.
“You know those damn dogs have been acting stranger than hell the last couple of days?” he said. He was folding up a section of the newspaper and speaking to no one in particular. “Just this morning they nearly knocked me over when I tried to feed them. Fucking muts wouldn’t listen to a damn thing I said.”
“Maybe they’re restless,” Tyler suggested. “Hey Ron, did you forget to walk them last night?”
“No!” my other brother protested. “I didn’t forget! And Dad’s right, they were acting strange as Hell. I could barely control the damn things!”
“Language,” my father said sternly. “But you’re right, I saw you walking them when I got home. Maybe one of the neighbors got a bitch and she’s in heat, or something.”
“They’re horny,” Jason giggled.
“I said watch your language at the breakfast table!” my dad snapped. “You don’t need to go using words like horny in front of your little sister.”
Everyone grew silent, me most of all. I could feel my face reddening. I had a sneaking suspicion I knew the real reason the dogs were acting strange. Fact is they’d had a bitch, up until two nights ago, at least. And I hadn’t fucked them since the previous Tuesday night. They hadn’t gone that long without sex since I’d started fucking them the month before. They missed me.
“You know, you’re probably right, though,” my dad finally said, sticking a fork in Jason’s direction. “The damn dogs are horny. Maybe I ought to go online and see if I can’t find a bitch for them.”
“What!” I exclaimed. Everyone stared at me, surprised by my reaction. “I mean, uhm… another dog? Is… is there room for that?”
“Not to keep,” my dad said dismissively. “Back when I was breedin’ them I’d get offers of two, three hundred dollars sometimes from people wanting to get their bitches pregnant. Course in those days I had my own bitches, but still. I bet I could do that again. I ought to look into it.”
“You’re going to be the dogs’ pimp!” Ron giggled. My other brothers laughed and my dad just glowered at them. I remained completely silent.
There was no reason for me to be feeling this way, but it was true. For some reason I was jealous. Jealous that the dogs were going to fuck someone– something– besides me. It was insane! But I couldn’t deny how jealous I suddenly felt. I did the dishes angrily as I thought about losing my pack. The only way to keep them, I knew, would be to tell my master about what I’d done so I could start doing it again. And that wasn’t going to happen. So I did my chores sullenly, taking my anger out on the dirty bathroom and un-vacuumed rooms. When it was time to clean the kennel out I timed it so that they were already on their walk. I didn’t want to look at them right now.
After I finished washing and waxing my dad’s truck I was done with my chores. I went upstairs and took a shower and changed into pair of tight capri-style jeans and a horizontally striped top. After pulling my hair back into a ponytail I got on my bike and rode over to my master’s house. He’d told me to be there no later than four, but no earlier than three, so I took the long way to get there. I arrived at 3:05pm and rode straight into his open garage just like he’d told me to.
I found him downstairs and the first thing he wanted to do was inspect my ass. He chuckled at the sight: it was turning black and blue and was even a little swollen. There were also some long red lines from the cat o’ nine tails, and he liked that most of all. He got so worked up inspecting his handiwork that he fucked me right away. To my immense relief he did it to me doggy-style. Afterwards he told me to get dressed again and soon we were on the way to the clinic he’d told me about the day before.
Getting on the pill proved insanely easy. All I had to do was admit that I was sexually active, lie and say that I was 16, and then fill out and sign a form. My master had told me to use the alias “Lucy Smith”, so I did, and no one at the clinic asked to see an ID or anything. Afterwards I paid them the $40 my master had given me and then met him back at his van which he’d parked across the street.
To my surprise we didn’t go straight back to his place. Instead he drove to a little downtown area nearby the clinic and stopped in front of a coffee shop. “See that guy wearing the, ahh, leather jacket?” he said.
He was pointing at a young man working on a laptop computer. He was sitting right in front of the big window at the front of the coffee shop and I could see him clearly. “Yes, Sir,” I said, confused.
He started driving again without saying a word. There was a silly grin on his face that made me feel nervous but I didn’t dare ask what he had in mind. We drove for about two blocks before he parked behind a closed office building of some kind and parked. “Now,” he said, “take off your shirt.”
“Wh-what?” I asked. Though there were no cars around we were parked in the middle of this little suburban downtown area in broad daylight. What if another car pulled into the parking lot and saw me?
He slapped my face pretty hard. “Don’t say, what! Just, ahh, do it!”
Nervously I began pulling off my top. When I was done he said, “The bra, too.”
Gulping with anxiety I nevertheless did as he said. He was reaching behind his seat and by the time my bra was off he’d retrieved a plastic bag. From it he pulled out a roll of electric tape and what appeared to be a black fishnet shirt. “Use the, ahh, tape to make an x over each of your nipples,” he explained. “Then put this on.”
He handed me both objects and with trembling fingers I began tearing off strips of the black tape. While I worked to make an “X” over each of my nipples he continued to explain my assignment. “Now, ahh, I just spent $40 on your pills, $3 on that tape, and $22 on that shirt. All told I’ve spent $65 on you today. And I, ahh, deserve a little entertainment for that,” he said. “So you’re going to walk down to that coffee shop wearing that, ahh, top. Then you’re going to go inside the store and ask that nice young man I, ahh, pointed out to you what a blow-job is. After he answers you can meet me back here.”
He was grinning from ear to ear at the expression on my face. I was shocked. He couldn’t be serious! “Wh–,” I started to say, but I caught myself.
“Go ahead,” he grinned. “You can ask it.”
“Because it’ll embarrass the hell out of you,” he chuckled. “And that, ahh, amuses me.”
I gulped again. Finally, though, I pulled the shirt over me. Looking down at my tits I couldn’t believe how revealing the top was. Sure my nipples were crossed-out by the tape but you could see the rest of my boobs just fine. I looked like a ridiculous little slut. He made me undo my ponytail, too, which in a way made me feel even more silly. Finally he ordered me not to cover myself in any way before telling me to get going.
It was chilly outside as I walked nervously toward the store. For once in my life I wasn’t looking forward to the stares I would get as soon as I ran into some people. Being stared at in this slutty fishnet top wasn’t going to be flattering, it was going to be humiliating! And it didn’t take long: as soon as I got back to the main street there were pedestrians everywhere. It was a lovely Saturday afternoon, after all, and this faux-downtown in my suburban city was lined with shops, bars, and restaurants. The looks I got as I walked quickly down the street made my whole body turn red with embarrassment. But the worst was yet to come.
Somehow I managed to get to the coffee shop without crying. I overheard some people laughing while others just insulted me (the insults came mostly from women). One woman who was walking with her son actually gasped and covered up his eyes as I passed them. I felt so humiliated I could barely breathe.
As I entered the coffee shop I was nearly run over by a man talking on his cell phone. His eyes went immediately to my chest and his jaw dropped. I shuffled past him. With my heart racing I walked quickly to the young man on his laptop and tapped him on his shoulder. All I could think of was getting this over with as quickly as possible.
“Yeah?” the young man, who was probably almost 20, said. And then he saw me. His eyes widened with shock and his jaw literally dropped.
“I, uhm,” need to ask you something,” I stammered stupidly. I was absentmindedly playing with my hair and I had to use every ounce of willpower not to cross my arms over my chest. Outside, I knew, my master was watching me.
“Don’t, uhh, most people were a top or something under a shirt like that?” he asked, dumbfounded.
I ignored him and took a deep breath. Then I blurted out, “What’s a blow-job?”
“WHAT!” he exclaimed.
Other store patrons were listening to our conversation, I knew, but I had to get it over with. “Just, please, tell me!” I urged him.
He continued staring at me, first at my tits, then at my pleading face, then at my tits again. Finally he smiled. “I get it,” he said. “This is some kinda dare, isn’t it? Are you hazing to get on the cheerleader squad or something?”
“Y-yes,” I said. I was relieved that he’d come up with an excuse for me, but anxious for him to give me an answer. “Please, just tell me!”
He laughed. “Alright, what the hell? I’ll help you out. A blow-job is something really nice girls do for guys they like. Good enough?”
I was so relieved I actually smiled. “Yes, thanks!”
I turned to leave but he grabbed my my arm suddenly and asked, “Hey, how old are you anyway?”
“Thir-thirteen,” I admitted.
He let go of my arm quickly. “Damn, I thought so. Never mind, then.”
I darted out of the store as quickly as I could and soon I was all but running down the street. The only reason I didn’t run was that I didn’t want my breasts to bounce even more obscenely than they already were. I ignored more shocked expressions and whispered comments as best I could as I made my way back to where my master was waiting. When I escaped the main street and got to the parking lot he was just pulling into it from the other side. With quick looks over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me I did run, finally, and got into his van a moment later.
He was laughing hysterically. I remained silent as I caught my breath. I felt absolutely humiliated. But then I realized that I felt aroused, too. It was like after the first time I’d flashed the guys at the Silver Star: I’d been embarrassed during it but afterwards I’d actually gotten horny. The same was happening now that I was in the safety of the van. While my master recounted the “priceless” expression on my face during my conversation with the stranger at the coffee shop I realized I was wet. That fact became even more true when my master had me recount my conversation with the stranger. By the time we got back to his house I was definitely ready to fuck.
And fuck we did. This time he wanted me on top, which again was a relief for my poor bruised up ass. It was difficult fucking him in this position: impaling myself on his cock while he laid on his back. I kept wanting to stop when it got painful, a choice I never had when he was fucking me, but he wouldn’t let me. Whenever I slowed down too much he’d squeeze my breasts painfully or pinch my nipples. Eventually I got into a good rhythm and was able to get both of us off but I definitely wasn’t very good, yet, in that position.
After that we watched a regular porn movie together. By regular I mean it wasn’t child porn. It was a gang-bang movie involving one very sexy young woman and seven well hung men. I liked it so much that when my master told me to give him a blow-job I actually got up the nerve to ask if he could fuck me doggy-style instead so we could both keep watching the movie. To my delight he agreed since he said it was the “sluttiest request he’d ever heard” in his life. He still wanted to cum on my face, but as he shot his goo all over it I actually didn’t mind. In fact I decided to keep my mouth shut this time so he could really glaze me. Afterward I had a lot of jizz to wipe into my mouth but that just got me even hornier. He was so impressed that when I sat back on his lap he rewarded me with another orgasm and a cigarette.
We spent the rest of the day together doing stuff like that: giving each other orgasms, or fucking, or choosing from his vast collection of DVDs and watching all kinds of crazy porn, both the legal and illegal kind. At one point he asked me to do a “sexy dance” for him. I remember laughing with embarrassment at the suggestion, and giggling throughout the entire routine. It was probably the silliest looking dance in the history of the world as I writhed my awkward, pubescent body to the tune of “Closer” by the Nine Inch Nails for him. But I did smile the entire time.
THE END OF CHAPTER FOUR