Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The content of the story is not representative of 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 any unlawful activity such as is depicted in the story. 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 that they are depicting but they remain at all times adults.
Feature Writer: Regis
Feature Title: LAMI PI PRODUCTIONS 5 – 6
Published: 13.02.2024
Lami Pi Productions 5 – 6
CHAPTER 5 – A Startling Discovery
His home in Las Vegas was lavish, by any standards. Jackson Avery and his wife Martha had designed it themselves, with their primary purpose to host friends in large, extravagant parties. It was a true party house, with everything necessary to be gracious hosts.
His den was his office, from which he controlled his empire. His highly effective executive assistant was in charge of the New York office and was available 24/7 by e-mail and cell phone. The operation was smooth, thanks to her skill and effective management, which left him free to be the organization’s visionary.
He couldn’t get out of his head how powerfully the time he had with his friend watching that bizarre nude fight between those convicts in San Francisco. It wasn’t so much the all-male dimension to it, but the fact it was so over the top a situation in which the men were forced to fight.
The idea of people placed in unusual circumstances being required to fight each other in front of a group, with so devastating an outcome for one of them that they would fight with more determination to prevent becoming the loser. That was what he found to be so sexually stimulating. Nude men didn’t turn him on, but this was something quite different, and he was certain it had definite cash value.
He was in his den, and moved by the growing ideas that filled his mind, began drawing up a chart, building a list of people whose talent and connections could be useful in the new enterprise he was considering developing. He took a break to get a refill for his coffee.
His wife Martha had left her cell phone on the counter when she had rushed out for a lunch meeting, and when it buzzed to give notice a text had arrived, he picked it up. He knew better than to open it, but the message was brief and showed on the front screen:
“Adding Betty if there’s room on the card, who’s only five, but as good as any six-year-old, redhead, experienced,” the note on the screen began. It continued, “Cute kid, serious punch and pussy ramming knees! Her Mom’s really into nude kiddiefight scenes. Love this tot’s chances! She’ll stoke our fire. Are you an aggressive opponent for her? See you Thurs. Love, Helen.”
Now he was too curious not to look. It was part of a string of messages from a woman whose ID at the top of the string was Helen Regent. They were all signed ‘Love’. He wondered if Martha might be bisexual. He knew the Regents and was certain Helen was bisexual. She had the roving eye and steamy look of a lesbian.
He had only met the Regents once at a New Years Eve party, and had been placed at the same table with them. Harry was a prominent political lobbyist in Washington, with a significant law background. His law practice pulled a lot of weight. His firm also did work in London, Berlin and Bangkok.
He primarily represented big industry to governments. He was also known for working on behalf of highly placed people in legal disputes, ranging from tax avoidance to involvement in white-collar criminal activity. He was good, and because of it he billed heavily. Harry was a wealthy man.
His wife Helen was a voluptuous beauty with long jet-black hair, curls in the right places, and Betty Page bangs that covered her eyebrows. She had velvety skin, was a sexy dresser, and reputedly had more interest in wives than in husbands. He assessed her as a cunt’s cunt. She knew how to play both sides of the fence, and did so effectively.
Helen had a strong, influential manner, and looked like the kind of always-smiling woman who at first glance was assumed to be a charmer. She made friends easily and quickly had her new acquaintances eating out of her hand. For her charm was her preliminary approach, and she had other weapons in her armory ready to use when necessary.
Those with dealings with her discovered she was also used to getting her way, regardless of the social cost. For some reason, she wasn’t a liability to Regent, as she always appeared to be subservient to him, but that was probably the opposite of how things worked with them.
Jackson found her interesting and noticed in a couple of conversations during the evening that she was indeed able to sway opinions. Helen Regent was a manipulator and used the influence of her husband as her main persuasive tool. She also used a tough, no-nonsense attitude as a backup.
He guessed she was quite successful in her ventures, whatever they might be. She was not the kind of woman who would sit on her hands at home but would be out there doing something creative. She also showed an edge that suggested she could be brutal when doing so would allow her to dominate.
He realized he had just now accurately defined the assertive, sometimes aggressive woman. She was a real fucking Dom, a top woman, regardless of who she was dealing with. The most successful top women usually gave the impression they were at the bottom. That gained them sympathy and gave them a distinct edge.
He guessed she could be valuable in the organization he was planning, but was not yet sure where he could use her. It depended upon how far she would like to see things go. From her message to his wife, it was clear she was into kiddie fights. In what he planned, personal taste would determine where the enterprise went, and how it got there.
The text message on his wife’s cell phone suggested both Helen and Martha had erotic taboo interests they acted upon, far beyond the apparent. It also made it clear the two women were working together on a private project, involving kids, and that something was going to happen imminently.
Jackson was leaving for New York Thursday morning and would be gone for 2 days of heavy business negotiations. How the fuck would he discover what these women were up to? He was certain it had something to do with staging naked kid fights between girls. This was just like the fucking Russian peasants!
Martha knew he’d be away; he’d planned the trip six weeks ago, and with ongoing delicate negotiations, she also knew there was no way he was going to cancel. What the fuck was his wife up to? She would have the house to herself, and he was suspicious she was about to do something rash, right in their home, without his knowledge.
Little girls fighting? Tots in combat? She would have their Las Vegas mansion to herself for two days. She planned to entertain guests, with cute and perhaps nude fighting little girls as the entertainment. Helen was part of it, whatever ‘it’ was.
He suspected his wife and Regent were into a girlie, kiddie, and/or tot fight club. Fucking hell! Naked little girls would likely be running around his house, their little cunnies flapping invitingly, and all of this when he was not home to enjoy it. What kind of wife had he married?
He tried unsuccessfully to think of an alternative explanation for an experienced five-year-old redhead with a mean punch requiring an opponent. Surely his wife of forty years wasn’t into those underground nude KidFights. Hell, although he’d heard talk of them, he had never seen one or even a video to know if they were real.
The stories he’d heard said they were run by the mothers of the fighting little girls, who not only approved their daughters fighting, but arranged and attended their bouts, cheering them on after putting them in front of kiddie fight fans. That kind of tenuous speculation was doubtful at best.
If it sounded too good to be true, it likely was. There had to be another logical explanation to Helen Regent’s text. He was unable to guess what an alternative might be. It was so bald-faced on the surface that any other explanation was highly unlikely. This had to be it.
He went quickly into her den and found her computer was on and she was logged in, although that was irrelevant because he knew her password. He went online and searched through all of her Bookmarks. Martha’s broad interests were apparent with the many bookmarks he found.
Most of these surprised him, as they were related to erotica, but she was very well organized, with her bookmarks in a highly logical order. He was able to quickly find what he was looking for. It surprised him and gave him a new look at the nature of the woman he had married.
These named folders were not on the usual internet but were instead on the highly secretive and encoded Freenet and Usenet, requiring a Torrent connection. These were nicknamed the dark Internet, because almost anything you could ever want could be found there for a price, no matter how salacious or illegal it might be.
Jackson understood everything you could ever want to see was available there, for a price. He had once delved into it, searching for nothing in particular but quickly learned everything was there, no matter how it challenged the most depraved mind.
Because of this, most sites on the Darknet used Russian servers. The Russians didn’t seem to give a shit what was going on and were happy to host everything, as long as they could make a buck on it. It was certainly the best place for those seeking child porn.
As he browsed, he discovered the Darknet also carried drugs and even white slaves for sale. It was possible to order a woman of your choosing, and she would be obtained for you. Even children could be purchased, no questions asked. Arms dealers and lowlife gun sellers used it regularly. Everything was on the table on the Darknet, and that’s where Martha’s computer took him.
It was clear she was into this stuff to some depth, and he couldn’t wait to see how far she went. There were three recently visited websites, a live streaming service and to top it off, a complete archive. He couldn’t see where the collection she had amassed was stored.
She had saved her ID, which meant that her password came up automatically, so the hidden sites she visited were, for all practical purposes, completely accessible to him. She had taken no precautions to bar her husband from finding out her darkest secrets.
Jackson did not make a practice of spying on her by looking at his wife’s computer, but he knew his way around it. He had gone on it to find the address of a pretty teenage housekeeper she had fired, and that had led to several very pleasant weekends in a hotel suite he kept for such purposes.
He spent the time in a hotel room plumbing the inner depths of the delightful fifteen-year-old sweetheart he still saw from time to time. The girl proved to be fertile. She had conceived twice, and both times he had quietly arranged an abortion for her, as he wished to continue to see her.
The girl’s second abortion was performed by a doctor who owed Jackson, one he knew to be heavily into kink. The whole operation was performed for hidden video cameras. The result provided a video he had put onto the Darknet to discover its money-making power, and he was quite satisfied that it was a great method of profitable distribution of filth.
What the archives he found on Martha’s computer had in common was the curious contraction KFC in the folder names, which he was certain was not Kentucky Fried Chicken. It likely stood for Kiddie Fight Club. There must be some kind of structure to this sport, he thought.
The rough stuff he expected to find in the fight videos was organized. He and his wife had several young grandchildren; what the hell was Martha doing with her nose into violent kiddie porn? From what he’d heard, this stuff could get quite filthy, and potentially extremely violent. That was quite risky.
The last thing he needed was for some cop to come to visit their home while she was entertaining her associates with a friendly little nude kiddie fight. He went to the first folder in the archive to see what was offered and was startled at what came up. Both were startled and turned on.
What he found were, as the names on the files made clear, kiddie fights. Or to be more accurate, kiddie girlie fights, featuring naked little girls, getting it on in front of a group of mostly young masturbating women. There were only women present, no men at all.
The children were, except for sparse ultra-thin diapers on a few of them, naked, and the young women were so excited they were all talking at once. There were only women present, with no men at all. This was an all-female sport, and it was immediately clear that the women were all highly sexually stimulated by what was about to happen.
Somewhere in the large party room of a private home, with furniture cleared for the event, a simple unadorned ring was set up, with about twenty-five women forming an audience around it. The ring was a minimal affair, consisting of four stout posts on wide metal bases weighted down by heavy sandbags.
The four short posts were set standing on top of a cheap carpet, laid on a large plastic sheet, obviously to protect the home’s expensive hardwood floor from whatever bodily fluids and perhaps solids from the children came into play. The three things he could think of that could stain the expensive carpets were urine, feces, and blood. Why else would they protect the floor in this manner?
Jackson decided this setup had the potential to become very interesting. It was in his nature to look beyond the obvious, to see what was the intent of whatever was there. The ring was set up for combat, and because of its small size, in every dimension, it appeared to be for minor combatants. Scrappy little female kids.
The posts were joined by two strands of smooth small gage wire, one connected to the tops of the posts and the other halfway to the floor, both held on with glass insulators. A heavy-duty battery was connected to an adjustable energizer. It had three knobs and looked like it could vary the voltage and pulse frequency of power delivered to the wire.
This ring was nothing but a sophisticated electric fence! The posts were no higher than two and a half feet. This ring was designed for fights between small naked children and would give them anything from a slightly uncomfortable buzz, a solid jolt, or a disabling muscle-spasm shock if they were in solid contact and with the right voltage.
This was serious equipment for what purported to be a casual club, meeting in a member’s home. It was clear the stories Jackson had heard were not only true but were also somewhat understated. What he saw told him there was a substantial organization behind this, and he wondered if he’d find some information to determine its scale or who drove it.
Two pretty little girls, one six and the other five wearing nothing but skimpy sagging diapers and tape on their little fists, were placed in opposite corners. These little girls were too old to require diapers, under normal circumstances. These circumstances were far from normal. Under the high duress of a fight, continence could not be guaranteed.
The sparse protective infant wear was made of a single layer of beige cheesecloth that was, when damp, fully transparent. The minimal garment had been purposefully pinned loose so that they would hang suspended, and likely slip further down soon after the action started.
The purpose was to, at the very least, become more revealing if the girls peed, and more likely hang below their hips, revealing to the audience and the video cameras the little girl’s most intimate parts, their hairless cuntlets, and any poop they produced during the action.
A closer look revealed yellow stains on the thin white material that told Jackson several of the kids had already peed in them, which made them thinner and sag more. Frequent cunnie-peeks were available to anyone who kept their eye on the sagging crotches as the little girls moved. This appeared to be part of the design and was most appealing.
A female voice-over on the video said, “Meet Sherri, who’s six, and her opponent Tammy, who’s still just five. Sherri has a mean right, and Tammy’s a real little scrapper, which qualifies her to fight Sherri. Pick your favorite before they get it on, because all betting is off once the first punch is thrown, hair pulled, or kick delivered, no exception!”
The otherwise naked little girls had their hands taped with cloth tape and were set to fight each other. Jackson was impressed at the delicate little hands that would soon be throwing punches, and only partially protected by the rough cloth tape, and get the knuckles scraped in the process.
The women screamed encouragement as the children eyed each other, warily. Both of them knew they were likely to get hurt. This was not going to end without damage to probably both of them. Jackson felt his penis firming in his pants. The excited women in the audience, including their mothers, depended on them visibly hurting each other. In this sport winning was irrelevant, it was all about doing damage.
Jackson was surprised they were so very young. Would either of them even know how to effectively fight? He expected their mothers had give them some basic fight instructions, but even with some experience, they would not know how to properly coach a fighter for such a bout. It occurred to him the mothers would be unlikely to care.
Little girls playing in the sandbox or romping around in the backyard could be very cruel to each other, and if push came to shove, give each other a bloody nose, but in an organized setting where their mothers were part of it and encouraging violence, how into it were they likely to get? Likely quite far.
Neither of the naked little girls looked particularly keen; they appeared to have no idea what was going on, but the shouting women were highly excited, making it clear they were experienced and knew precisely what to expect. Although the two in the ring were novices, the young mothers forming the audience were likely, judging by their excitement, veterans of these parties.
The young women’s agitated behavior told Jackson most of these ladies were hardened fans of kiddie fights, anxious to see the little girls punch the crap out of each other, and likely all hoping for blood. This video was promising to be good! He was surprised to see his refined, matronly urbane wife Martha, grandmother to three beautiful little girls, was among the woman spectators.
One of the women had a small notepad, and watching her move among the audience, Jackson saw she was acting as a bookie. She moved around the room, obviously taking bets on the outcome of the impending fight. He watched Martha give the woman a small roll of folded bills, placing what appeared to be a substantial bet.
Martha liked to pay cash when she shopped, not trusting plastic, and seldom carried less than one hundred dollar bills. She had possibly placed a five hundred dollar bet on naked little girls fighting! What kind of woman was she, to have this kind of confidence in such a minor, off the fucking wall sport?
A mature woman with a shapely figure, wearing an open blouse that revealed more of her cleavage than it covered, a perky short-short skirt above gorgeous tanned bare legs and spike heels stepped into the ring. She was carrying two leather collars decorated with spikes and attached to either end of a chain, less than two feet long.
The spikes on the collars looked to be more dangerous than Jackson guessed they were. He would wait for a close-up shot to see if the points gleamed. Collaring the naked children with collars connected was a creative idea, and introduced several interesting possibilities, all of them delightful.
In Jackson’s mind, looking forward, should such fights become part of his plan, and he had every reason to believe they would, collars were definitely in, and diapers were just as out. The collars hid nothing of interest, and the chain would keep the kids close to each other. By doing so they would act as a totally passive but highly effective referee.
The woman brought the girls to the center of the small ring and snuggly collared them. The collars and short chain acted as an elegantly simple mechanical referee. Now the little girls could not escape each other, nor turn their backs. They were in a very tough situation. Fighting to the end, whatever that might be, would be their only choice.
Both of them were now totally vulnerable to the scratching nails, pounding fists, jamming elbows, driving knees, and furious kicks of the other. It was simply a matter of which of them could strike the other most often, in the most effective places, and hardest. At their age, it would most likely be about endurance.
This was a sport that could be very brutal for the small and frail or at least tender participants. Jackson had no idea how these little girls would react to being in a small fight ring, surrounded by adult women, including their mothers. Nor could he imagine how they would fight each other. He was about to find out.
“Bets are now closed,” the commentary voice on the video said, “We’re ready for the girls to fight! Let’s see what kind of damage these pretty little naked cuntlets can do to each other! Let the fight begin! Get at it, girls! We’re all set to go! It’s now cunt-punching time!” That was a curious thing to say but was a novel idea.
Jackson thought that was a particularly crude way for the woman to put it, but was also highly stimulating. It introduced a novel idea that had never occurred to him. He would love to see the naked little darlings punch each other’s pretty little cuntlet, even through her piss-soaked diaper.
666
The Priest sat on a chair in the Chancel facing the sanctuary, which was empty except for the first two rows, where a group of ten-year-old boys and girls sat, attending his late-afternoon class on learning to ‘Be Adult’. The sanctuary was locked, and for good reason.
The Priest’s pants were down to just above his knees. He was gently stroking the small penis that was slowly being drawn to an erection. The penis in question belonged not to the Priest, but to young Jackson, who was sitting on his lap. Jackson’s pants were down to his ankles, and the Priest’s sizeable erection was deeply planted in his rectum.
Jackson was learning about adult sex, and with the experienced ministrations of the Priest’s fingers, the young boy was in a state of increasing sexual excitement, experiencing his first erection, and was carefully brought to the point he boiled over, to experience his very first ejaculation, surprising both himself and the other children.
His semen arched high in the air, driven by his sudden burst of lust, and dropped harmlessly on the maroon carpet of the Chancel. Even with his young peers, including girls, watching the demonstration by the Priest, the buggered boy Jackson Avery realized the great potential for enjoyment. He could do this by himself, and it would prove to be a satisfying fist fuck.
CHAPTER 6 – Naked Little Girl Fights
Once the action started, the cute nearly naked little girls would have no option but to fight each other. The chain joining their collars served as a perfect passive referee for a fight like this, as it recognized no rules, other than the requirement the fighters remain at close quarters facing each other.
In this position, they were forced into confrontation, and they therefore had to continue their battering and kicking attacks on each other. An attack was the only possible form of defense. There were no other options. The little girls performed with as much malice as they had to, and it was to the delight of their all-female audience.
These women had developed a terrific structure for their amusing pugilistic pastime, and Jackson realized that men would be easily as interested as any woman in this kind of event. It was a shame to hide a pair of pretty little cuntlets from the enthusiastic audience with diapers and to allow only women to observe the kiddie battle.
Men liked to see little charming naked little cuntlets as much as any woman did, he was certain of that. You would not have to be a pedophile to enjoy watching naked little girls swinging wildly, pounding the shit out of each other. It wasn’t about child sexuality.
It was like all boxing, wrestling, and whatever other forms used by the nude combatants, unencumbered by clothing. It could be argued that this was all pure sport. You wouldn’t find a single person attending that would buy that, but it was the position taken by the Kiddifight organization.
Fist to face, fist to tummy, the distinctive smack sound of a rapidly raised knee to a tender little cuntlet. It was all about hurting the opponent, and the lack of costume was simply to allow the audience a full view of whatever damage was done, whether it be bruises, scratches, or swelling.
It was just that their nakedness and bare little cunts would be much preferable, lent delightful color to the fierce competition, and made them both more vulnerable to bruises, cuts, and scratches on all parts of their cute, shapely, delectable little bodies. Seeing them naked was also very sexually stimulating for their mothers and guests.
That was the attraction of this wonderfully secretive sport. The little girls should learn early in life what all men knew, that cunts were designed mainly for abuse. It was very appropriate that naked children should be inflicting this kind of damage to each other, learning early. The sport was ingenious.
It was not that their nakedness was required, but clothing always provided some level of protection, and fully displayed little cuntlets would have made the naughty little girls’ appearance even more interesting, and naughtier. Jackson knew great opportunities when they presented themselves.
The two little girls in the ring braced themselves, ready to do combat. They knew that their mothers required it of them, and would become very angry if they did not perform as they were coached to do. Mothers could be very brutal to their little girls when they disobeyed, and as well as being slapped around when they returned home, they might be denied dessert for a whole week.
With the screaming of encouragement from the women present, the two little girls in the ring braced themselves, not sure what would happen, but they were ready to do combat. Their braced forms, knees spread and slightly bent, and both up on tiptoes in anticipation, Jackson appreciated the appeal of the naked bodies of grade one and two girls.
Many little girls, some as young as five, were starting to drop baby fat and develop the beginnings of the female shape that both women and men found attractive. All of these children were very well selected on that measure. Fat, stubby legs and arms were fading away as the children’s limbs were developing lovely, erotic shapes with the right curves in all the right enticing places. Sexual glamor was developing and apparent in them as stimulating beauty.
A few of the mothers had found and bought for them specially made children’s high heels, from Argentina. These were very hard to find because little girls are constantly growing, but the search for those successful was well worthwhile because it made the little darlings look so much more sexually appealing.
Their tight little tummies had cute bulges in the right places, and their buttocks retained prominence behind, echoing the form of breasts, which they were far away from developing. They were, in short, sufficiently ripe to be considered for the highly erotic violence of kiddie fights, if their mothers were open to entering them. All of the mothers present were.
It was completely natural for a man to get aroused, as all men did, and likely at the peak of the action to ejaculate, expressing their sexual delight, just as the women would experience a succession of orgasms watching the performance of sexually stimulating kiddie violence. That was perfectly natural.
These young ladies had learned the true value of seeing their naked child in the ring dishing it out, or taking it. They had no concern for damage, since the kiddies were too young to give any significant injury to their opponent, and they felt it was a risk well worth taking for the pleasure of sharing their child’s impudence with friends.
Immature children should always serve the pleasures of their parents, as well as of their parents’ friends and acquaintances, such as at these private events, and these fights provided the perfect opportunity for the nearly naked children to entertain while expressing their peculiar passion for violence toward their peers.
For little girls discovering their social and physical dimensions, the act of hurting each other was what life was about, as it was what they regularly did to each other regardless, believing it to be perfectly natural. The mothers were simply harnessing the innate cruelty of children to their advantage.
Jackson thought it would make a lot of sense to include men in the audience, simply based on the extra revenue they would generate. He was always looking at how things that raised some money could raise much more, and his mind went to the angles that would produce additional profits. He had found a likely sport to develop.
This was a natural sport for men, who would likely have innovative ideas on how to improve the raw sexual excitement factor. Just from watching the preparation, Jackson was now developing ideas on how the match might go, and what kind of malevolent cruelty he would like to see these kiddies eagerly inflict on each other.
Even the youngest of the little girls would understand the value of cruelty in these matches. He knew from watching his little grandchildren scrapping that, given free rein, small children were masters at providing raw spitefulness in retribution for the smallest infraction.
It was like little girls, when uninhibited, to hurt, and keep hurting the other until they were forced to stop. That was what being a kid was about. That was what being a little girl was all about, and being very attractive when undressed, little girls fighting was sure to be a terrific draw for the right people.
When told to begin, the pretty little girls were slow in starting, and Jackson was startled at the rude encouragement of quick zaps from cattle prods in the hands of their unsympathetic mothers. Those jolts had to hurt! The naked kiddies leaped into action and were soon going at each other with all of the tricks in their bags, striking at each other with growing fervor.
They kicked, pulled hair, scratched, kneed each other, and threw volleys of punches, some of those doing some damage. Their lack of style said these two were rank amateurs, just little girls whose mothers happened to belong to a kiddie-fighting club. Entering their kids was the price of belonging to this exciting underground sport. It was clear the little girls both understood what had to be done to win.
Jackson expected they had both been in the kiddie gallery during earlier fights. That would be the least their mothers could do to prepare them for this kind of action. Both of the naked children were crying and sobbing, but they kept their knees, kicks and punches coming, with growing effect.
Even at their tender age, it was apparent that they had both received some form of training because they knew to deliver flurries of punches and to produce hurtful blows when the other’s defenses were down. Watching them in action, Jackson assumed they probably also had some prior experience in this naked kiddie sport.
Judging from the number of women in the audience, all of them openly masturbating, Jackson believed these nude kiddie battles were likely a common occurrence. The women were really into it, screaming instructions and giving their cunts a workout, masturbating through their dresses with active hands. In that regard, his wife Martha was fully involved.
The sobbing children knew to give each blow their all. That was how their attacks on each other were successful. They had probably competed in some ritzy afternoon tea competitions, carefully staged naked little girl fights that were designed to be highly sexually stimulating for their all-female audience.
Jackson learned that women got their jollies arranging and watching such things. Their mothers were getting off on the damage being done to their little daughters, as well as to the damage they were doing to the other. The moms both appeared to be unconcerned and were quite happy to see the growing damage of scratches, bleeding noses, and swelling eyes. This was all part of the ingenious sport.
The small kiddies’ only defense was to attack, and attack is what they did, with vengeance. Some of their blows were effective, and soon Tammy had a cut above her eye and the taller Sherri had walked right into an uppercut with her head down, and by her lack of attention had earned herself a serious nosebleed, and possibly a broken nose.
This video featuring the nearly naked little girls pounding on each other was proving to be a great introduction to what, in Jackson’s view, was an innovative new sport, and he was getting quite interested in how it unfolded. This kind of erotic sexually stimulating action was what got his imagination racing.
The young women in the attentive audience were screaming their encouragement to the little girls, who were sweating from the exertion of the fight, and whose diapers had begun to slip with the heated action, providing regular revealing glimpses of their most intimate charms, with frequent interesting peeks at their puffy little pussies. This was, in Jackson’s view, the best of show business.
The front of the thin diapers on the little girls was soon yellowing, becoming wet, growing heavier, and dripping with the combative little girls’ involuntarily released urine. Jackson thought how much more satisfying it would be to observe their unobstructed little cuntlets spurting their piss.
He realized that even while bathing their granddaughter, he’d never seen a little girl’s naked cunnie pissing. He now realized why he was always willing to do the bathing, an act that gave him access to unobstructed views and feelings of immature female genitalia. He liked the look and feel of little girls’ cuntlets.
Tammy, in the heat of having her head and body severely pounded by Sherri’s taped fists, had also passed a firm stool, which was now visibly rolling backward and forward in the sling of her slack little diaper. This emphasized how the quality of the action was diffused by the use of obstructing groin cloth.
The inadequate, thin slack garment was swinging wide with her every movement, with the added weight of her fecal material now pulling it downward. What was supposed to be a diaper to collect her expelled offal and offer a modicum of modesty was now no more than a pee-soaked shit sling.
What was supposed to be a cover and protector, revealed the little girl’s puffy little cuntlet with every swing. The slit of her pussy was spread and swollen from repeated blows, and as it swelled and reddened, it spread more open, revealing the immature but growing slender little inner lips with their narrow pink ridges spreading from the emerging clit-hood, the kind of cunt that men would drool over.
Jackson could also see from the severely sagged diaper she was squirting more warm piss with every blow to the body or head she took. Compared to Sherri, Tammy was more of a tot, without the ability to act upon her instincts with the kind of results she wanted. She was just too young to have the necessary instincts and reflexes, but the drive to hurt her opponent was as easily as strong as Sherri’s.
Tammy got in a pair of telling blows to Sherri’s right eye, which was swelling and blackening, but her body punches were easily absorbed by the larger 6-year-old. Because of her smaller size, her knees were effective in pounding up against Sherri’s cunt, reddened and swollen from the aggressive attention it had received from the relentless pounding knees of her young opponent.
A woman, likely the hostess, was spraying the ring from a bottle of Febreze, attempting to control repugnant odors. These ladies loved the sights but were not as comfortable with the aroma of this kind of action. Jackson realized with a grin the origin of the term ‘getting the shit beat out of you.’
In this minor exotic sport for erotic minors, he realized shit production was a definite likelihood, and the hostess was prepared. There was no way she wanted the offensive odor of child excrement to mar the enjoyment of her guests for the thrillingly aggressive violence they had come to take pleasure in.
The tempo of the battle intensified, and Jackson’s penis rose in his pants as the nearly naked little girls pummeled each other with vicious kicks and punches. This was the stuff of men’s dreams, men who imagined the fun that took place during recess at a reform school playground.
In a dream everything was possible, and in wet dreams, men had conscious control of what they witnessed. These wet dreamers would imagine that uncaring teachers would not supervise the little girls in their care on a reform school playground, allowing them to do whatever they wanted.
In the video fight he was watching with such interest, any rules were meaningless, and there was no referee anywhere in sight. The naked scrapping little girls had free reign on what they did to hurt their little opponent and were limited only by the limits of their underdeveloped imaginations.
The downside was that they were being hurt back, which drove their creativity in finding new ways to do more damage in retribution. Jackson was impressed at how quickly these naked little girls chained together at the neck responded with new moves and ideas to get back in spades for what they had to take in punishment.
It was therefore clear these rude afternoon tea parties must have no rules to be enforced. Certainly, the organizers knew about rules and the importance of enforcing them. Having chosen to have none spoke volumes of their caring for these children, in many cases their own, little girls they readily and purposefully placed in harm’s way.
THE END OF CHAPTER SIX