Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as the story describes. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain at all times adults.
Writer: Shona
Subject: Shona 2 — A Different Birthday Party
Link: LS666 Email / 18.11.2024
Shona 2 — A Different Birthday Party
After I was made a woman on my eighth birthday I had expected the second birthday party to be that evening but even Daddy took pity on me after ripping away my virginity.
Ever since my sixth birthday, I have been given two birthday parties. The one in the afternoon was the normal party that every girl had with cake, presents, games, and school friends. Then in the evening when my sister, Amelia, was sent off on a sleepover, there would be a second party where I was the only young person and the rest were adults. Always at these parties, D&G would be in attendance.
When you think of D&G in fashion, you think of Dolce and Gabbana. But there was another D&G – Dennis and Glenys. Dennis was a small man with receding blonde hair, blue eyes and a chubby body. I guess he was in his late thirties when I first met him. Glenys was his sister.
A couple of years younger, she shared blonde hair, hers thick and long, and blue eyes. There was not much fat on her body, though, and her enhanced breasts were, I don’t know, thirty-eight, even maybe forty. At the time, I thought she was like a Barbie doll. Nowadays, people would say she had a Bimbo look.
D&G, as I always thought of them collectively because they were always together, had a legitimate fashion business – providing “sexy clothes for petite people.” Essentially they made sexy cocktail dresses, skirts, blouses and lingerie for women who had never had that final growth spurt and were stuck between four feet and five feet. They also made clothes for Little People or Dwarves. After all, why should women and dwarves challenged by lack of height be denied sexy clothing?
But they had another business – less legitimate. They made “sexy clothes for the immature body,” or to put it another way, sexual clothing, lingerie and fetish outfits for children and young teens. And that is how I first met them. About a month before my sixth birthday, they arrived at the cottage by appointment.
I was naked, as I usually was, and Daddy hadn’t told me to get dressed the way he did when normal people called. That was okay; apparently, D&G always measured up their “little clients” naked. In fact, after that first time, they often got naked too.
The result on my sixth birthday was a sexy black strapless and very short cocktail dress, a micro mini skirt and transparent crop top set and the sort of schoolgirl outfit not usually allowed. I loved them. What little girl doesn’t like dressing up? And on that birthday I had my first evening birthday party. Daddy was there of course watching that all went well. D&G were there and there were four other men.
I did the complete catwalk model thing with Dennis as a commentator. When the guests were all seated and had drinks, Dennis made an announcement.
“And for our first outfit, something for daytime at school.”
I walked, trying to walk like the models Daddy had shown me in videos the week before. There was lots of applause and cheering, and I loved it. Then I went out and changed until I heard the next announcement.
“And now for the casual outfit for being noticed in the park or the street.”
I walked in the skirt and top. There was more applause. I was having such a good time. Out I went again and waited.
“And now for that special night out.”
They went wild when I walked in.
Then I went out again and waited for about twenty minutes during which more drinks were served and they voted on which outfit they wanted me to wear for the evening. It was the skirt and crop top that year.
So in I went, and everyone made a fuss of me and examined the clothes running their hands over me and pushing them up my skirt, and in half an hour, the clothes had gone, and I was showing the men what I had learned from daddy in the previous year’s training and swallowed cum like the slut Daddy said I was.
In the year following my seventh birthday, Glenys came over more often during the year. It was the year I was taught how to give and take pleasure with women, something that Glenys had persuaded Daddy was best taught by a woman.
She taught me about masturbation and how to use fingers and tongues to bring a girl off. I wasn’t getting orgasms in those days but her fingers and tongue were certainly nice and it made me feel sort of tingly. Glenys on the other hand did orgasm noisily and frequently as I got more and more expert at finger fucking and sticking my tongue into her and licking and sucking on her clit.
She helped me with praise every time I got her off and she never called me names and she never slapped or hit me. She was nice, I thought, I even wondered if she would marry Daddy and I could have a proper mummy. Of course, she couldn’t because Daddy had married Amelia, my sister when she was eight.
A man had come to the cottage and there had been a ceremony and everything before daddy took her to his room and made love as Amelia called fucking.
Anyway, I wanted Glenys to be my mummy, so I did everything I could to make her love me, and when she trembled.
“She fucking going to cum!” She shouted out.
I knew that she loved me too. She even sometimes pulled my whole hand into her cunt, and she really shuddered and screamed then.
Anyway, the week after my eighth birthday it was time for my adult birthday party. Dennis and Glenys arrived early as they always did. Dennis helped set up the bar and Glenys schooled me on the fashion show and the very special showing-off bit. In the end, there was Daddy just watching, there was D&G and there were three other men I had not seen before.
The catwalk fashion show went like it always did and the fashion decision was my cocktail dress. I don’t think that there had been much choice because Glenys was wearing a dress just like mine except that she had those enormous tits creating a massive cleavage and I was flat as a board. After the choice of outfit Glenys and I walked in together and we did a dance we had rehearsed which set me almost giggling.
We both moved to the music, Glenys was behind me and ran her hands down my chest then she knelt in front of me as I kissed her and fondled her massive tits. Then to applause I pulled on her top so that her big 38s burst out of her dress. Wild applause and laughter and then Glenys pretended to be cross and pulled down the front of my dress. More applause especially when she rubbed her tits against my tiny nipples. I mean there was nothing there at all.
The audience liked it though and when Glenys pulled my skirt up so that it was up around my waist and they could see I had no knickers there was such a noise. Then there was absolute silence as Glenys slid to the floor and pulled her skirt up.
It wasn’t the view of her hairless cunt that silenced them – it was me sliding between her legs and licking at her clit and her cunt. That was probably when they stood up and formed a circle around us. I couldn’t see because my face was buried in cunt but Glenys told me later that they all got their cocks out and started to wank themselves off.
I wouldn’t have noticed. Glenys had wrapped her legs around me and pulled my face so far into her cunt that I could scarcely breathe. I was so worried, but I carried on licking and sucking the way I knew she liked until my face was suddenly wet as she shuddered, and she came into my face. Suddenly, I was on my back, and Glenys was down between my legs.
Things seemed to move very quickly then. I remember a warm splat on my face. I had felt that a lot over the years so I knew someone had cum on my face. Dennis apparently, Glenys told me later, getting off on his sister going down on an eight-year-old girl.
Then there were hands, and I was pulled into the air, and I felt the thing I had got familiar with over the last week — a cock pushing against my tight cunt. Daddy had fucked me every day that week, sometimes twice, but my cunt was still resisting, still too tight to give up without a token protest. But he was persistent as he pressed against me, and his cockhead forced itself into my tight pre-teen cunt. I might have screamed, but another cock was pushed into my mouth.
It then became a whirl. I do know that nobody came into my mouth. They wanted my cunt and, in turn, two of the men took it. But it wasn’t like daddy. He had so far only taken me missionary fashion. These men had other ways to do it. On my hands and knees with the man thrusting into me from behind.
“Listen slut,” I hear my Daddy shout, “Doggy style.”
Then there was a cock in my mouth at the same time,
“Spit roast,” calls out, Daddy.
I hear the grunting and I feel the warmth of cum in my immature cunt. But there is no rest. I am swept into the air and forced onto a cock as the man stands and my legs dangled to the sides as she uses me as a cock-sleeve. Fuck, even now I remember how that hurt as he pushed me down onto him until I felt the sticky warmth again.
As soon as he had finished it was the third man’s turn. Not with the rest though. I don’t know how these things were arranged. Over the years I learned that some men were happy to fuck me in front of others and other men wanted it to be private.
I was swept up to my room and thrown face down onto the bed. I remember he was still dressed. He was fat and balding and sweaty and excited. And not in any mood to be gentle.
“Yeahhhhh.”
There was one hand on my back pressing me down, the sound of a zipper, and the feel of a cock too big for me pushed in. And a stinging pain as he slaps my arse with his other hand.
Cock-head in then a little more and a little more and there is no more room in me. Then he is thrusting and pulling and every few moves he adds another stinging slap. And I start to cry and yell but that’s easily dealt with by pulling back on my hair and then bringing forward a pillow to bury my face in, muffling my sounds as his fat body thrusts and he was grunting like a pig.
That was when I found the “Quiet Place” for the first time. I think it was because I thought, as I struggled to breathe and my head pressed firmly into the pillow, that I was going to die. I have been to the “Quiet Place” many times since – my body still feels what is going on, if anything, it heightens the feeling – but my mind goes quiet and untouched. The Pig didn’t know, he still heard my muffled cries as he ravaged my body. I think he would have been disappointed to believe there was a way a part of me was escaping the torment.
I don’t know what fuelled him as he twisted me around to face him and spat on my face, his spit mixing with my tears and snot. He slapped me one last time on the face, and I felt his hot cum fill my poor, tight, painful cunt. He pushed me down as he exited my body. I heard the grunts as he tucked away, zipped himself up, and left the room. Then Pig was gone. He left the cottage straight away.
Which was just as well. Glenys was the first to come up to see why, after ten minutes or so, I had not gone downstairs ready for more fun. She cried out when she saw me and ran to get Daddy. He was furious and I am sure he would have taught Pig a lesson or two.
I suppose he was furious at my state, but it was because he had to cut the party short. It was obvious I couldn’t do another round with the men downstairs. Not least because I had gone reticent and, Glenys said later, had an absent look in my eyes. She stayed with me that night, tucked up in bed with me and cuddling me. I think she even wept.
I had a week off school. My ass and upper thighs were bruised in a way that wouldn’t have been possible to hide during swimming lessons or PE. I had bad flu.
There were lessons to be learned. If anyone took me away from the party, there were strict instructions to the man or woman who took me. Strict instructions anyway not to mark me. He told them it was because of love and care for me. Yeah? It was fear of being caught and, I realised later, fear of lost income. These weren’t friends of my Daddy — apart from D&G. They were customers. And I was earning Daddy a lot of money.
Another thing I found in “Quiet Place” was hatred.
THE END OIF CHAPTER TWO