SUBURBAN GIRL

Feature Writer: Unknown
Feature Title: Suburban Girl
Story Codes: Young, Masturbation, Pornography, Lesbian, Bestiality, Rape

SUBURBAN GIRL

CHAPTER 1

I started masturbating when I was ten-years-old. Early bloomer, I know, but what can I say? My hormones had to be doing something as I crept forward into puberty. They sure weren’t doing much else. Unlike other girls my age I hadn’t shot up at all in height. In fact, my body hadn’t changed at all. But my mind was working differently, that’s for sure. And one day, well, I just found myself taking a lot of time in the shower down there. You know, between my legs? It took a few sessions but eventually I had something of an orgasm. After that I was hooked. I enjoyed myself like that on an almost daily basis for a very long time. But then, during the first semester of my seventh grade year at St. Mary the Immaculate (a Catholic Middle School in suburban Cleveland), I found out that masturbation was a sin.

Talk about a slap in the face. I was twelve-years-old now and masturbating had become an entrenched part of my daily routine. Now I was being told that if I continued to do it I’d spend an eternity in Hell. I took that kind of possibility seriously in those days. I resolved not to ever masturbate again. That promise to myself– and to God, I should probably mention– was broken about six months later.

At least it felt like six months. Every day I wanted to touch myself like that, to tickle my slit as I showered until I was crying out with pleasure. It got so bad that on some days I avoided showering altogether. But I was a girlish girl and I wanted to look pretty, so those days were rare. I tried cold showers too, but they just made me hotter. I tried quick ones, but it was impossible to be quick with the long golden hair I had. The temptation to touch myself was always there and there was no way I’d be able to resist it forever.

The streak of abstinence was finally broken after my dad gave me the spanking of a lifetime for calling one of my older brothers a faggot. If I had insulted Jason in any other way my dad would probably have only smacked me across the face. But to accuse one of his sons of being gay was the gravest of sins in his eyes. I was smart enough to know that, but the big dumb jerk had called me a runt!

We were arguing and he’d decided to go there, to make fun of the fact that my body still hadn’t developed and that I was still a bony, skinny little shrimp. Combined with the pressures of school, friends, and my inability to pleasure myself, I blew up. And our dad had heard the insult from all the way downstairs. Jason had simply grinned at me when we both heard our father’s massive footsteps ascending the stairway. He knew what was coming and so did I.

During the spanking that ensued I endured a myriad of insults. My dad was never a kind man and he had little respect for the opposite sex. He called me a bitch, he called me worthless, he told me he wished I’d never been born. His words hurt, just like they always did, but they paled in comparison to the pain of his brutalizing blows. I whimpered and cried as I lay across his lap while his callused hand beat down on my soft, boyish butt.

He’d hiked up the skirt I was wearing, part of my school uniform, so that only a thin pair of white cotton panties protected my fresh little behind. I cried and cried at first until I felt his hard-on beneath my belly-button. I could feel it poking into me through his jeans, and for some reason that shut me up. The pain was still intense, his insults were still ringing in my ears, but somehow knowing that he was getting hard was exciting me. For a few moments only the loud smacking sounds of his hand and the vile words from his mouth filled the air as I remained silent.

Unconsciously I began to grind my belly down on my father’s hard-on, wondering if he knew that I knew it was there, wondering why it was exciting me so much. Finally he lifted me off his lap and tossed me onto my bed. My heart was beating hard in my flat chest as tears dried upon my face. He left me like that, wondering.

For the first time ever I masturbated outside of the shower. I pleasured myself in my own bed, albeit under the covers. In the back of my head I knew it was strange that I should break a period of abstinence like this, after my own father had spanked me and my butt stung with pain. But masturbate I did, for the first time in a long time. I remember pushing aside my panties and slipping my fingers along my wet slit, cringing from my bruised up butt as I lay back with my legs spreading wide.

My brain was legitimately horny for the first time ever and my twelve-year-old mind was having a hard time processing it all. I rubbed at my little pink clit with abandon as strange thoughts and feelings filled my head. For the first time I found myself thinking about sex while I pushed my fingers along the folds of my hairless labia. I’d never thought about anything while masturbating before. It’d always just been something pleasurable that I did to myself in the shower. Now, though, I found myself thinking of men kissing women, men touching women. It was so strange. The orgasm I got was almost more than I could take.

After that nothing could stop me from making masturbation a part of my daily routine again. At Sunday confession the Father DeGrazia told me I had to do a dozen Hail Mary’s for each time I’d done it, but I didn’t even bother. How could something that felt so good possibly send me to Hell? It was the first time I ever seriously questioned my faith. It wouldn’t be the last.

School ended for the year a month or so after that. In the large suburban neighborhood we lived in I spent most of my summer days riding bikes with friends and hanging out at their pools. I had started a major growth spurt at the end of the seventh grade, finally, so I was also spending a lot of time at the mall buying new outfits and things. I was having to buy a lot of stuff I’d never needed before, things like bras and deodorant and tampons. My body was really making up for lost time.

It was as though it had suddenly realized I was close to being a teenager and that it had better get itself ready. I mean, one morning my pussy had been as bald as a newborn baby just like always, and I swear to God that when I changed into my pajamas that night it had an actual golden patch of peach fuzz instead. And my breasts, well, they were no disappointment either. They were growing on an almost daily basis, or so it seemed to me.

At times it was scary, having my body change so rapidly. With no mom to help me through it I had to rely on my friends, but soon their pity and helpfulness turned to jealousy and resentment. I wasn’t only catching up with them, I was out-pacing them. By the time summer neared its end I was having to wear b-cup bras and even those were feeling snug. I had gone from the flattest girl in my group of friends to being the best endowed. My so-called friends noticed, and they sure didn’t like it.

Guys were beginning to notice me, too, only they did like what they saw. And not just boys either. Men, grown-up men, were starting to check me out at the mall, during my bike rides– hell, even at home. And why shouldn’t they? I was no longer a cute little girl with a boyish body. I was sexy now! I’d grown three inches in height, so that while I was still pretty short at least I stood over five feet for the first time in my life.

My breasts were more than a handful, very firm and perky, and when I wore one of my new push-up bras they almost seemed too large for my small frame. I was skinny, too, but instead of being straight and bony it was curvy and soft. Plus I still had my large, innocent blue eyes along with my pretty lips, tiny snub nose, and long golden hair. I was a real knock-out, I told myself, and I wasn’t wrong.

Sure I had a long way to go before I’d be considered a beautiful woman but being a sexy tween/teenager wasn’t bad, either. I was enjoying the new attention I was getting, that’s for sure. I even dressed to display my new features, wearing tight tops and short shorts, though I didn’t dare dress too provocatively since my dad would have had a fit. As summer wound down I was loathe to go back to wearing the drab school uniforms that were required there. I wanted to show off my new body wherever I went, even if there wasn’t anyone to show it off to at the all girls’ school.

I was still masturbating on a daily basis, usually at night but sometimes in the morning, too. I had to be careful when I did it since my brothers never bothered to knock before entering my bedroom. I also had to force myself to be quiet while rubbing myself for the same reason. It really sucked. What sucked even worse was the fact that I had no material to masturbate to. I didn’t have any access to porn and my dad wouldn’t even let me rent R-rated movies. Oh sure, he let my brothers watch the latest R-rated blockbusters, but I was just a girl. Things like blood and foul language might warp my fragile mind.

I suspected that my brothers had porn in their bedrooms, but they were allowed to have locks on their doors so sneaking in to find out was impossible. There was the computer, too, but it was located in the family room so I had no privacy there. It was infuriating as hell. Here I had this freshly pubescent body, these raging hormones, and this addiction to masturbation, but there was no way for me to satisfy my intense curiosity about all things sex!

I was still very naive about the subject and all I wanted to do was learn more about it. It wasn’t like I was trying to hook up with real-life boys the way some curious girls did. I was much too scared and indoctrinated by the church to do that. I just wanted material to get off on but it didn’t seem likely that I’d get access to it anytime soon.

My birthday that year fell on the last Friday of summer vacation. That morning, as I prepared breakfast for everyone, my dad announced that he would be bringing my brothers with him on a fishing trip to Lake Erie for the weekend. I wasn’t invited. That was fine with me. It would give me free reign of the house, I thought, and perhaps I’d be able to figure out a way to sneak into one of my brother’s bedrooms.

I spent that day sunbathing with my friends, feeling like an outsider as I soaked in the sun wearing a brand new bikini that left little to the imagination. My recently sculpted legs, hips, and breasts were on full display as I soaked in the sun, along with my tight, round butt. My friends gave me the cold shoulder all afternoon, and it was no wonder.

The girl who was hosting the gathering, Jody, had two extremely handsome older brothers and both of them were flirting with me exclusively. I flirted back in my awkward and girlish way, and that just made my friends even more resentful. Only Melissa, who was way too shy to be mean, spent any time talking to me. It was obvious now that she would probably be my only friend when I entered the 8th grade the following Tuesday.

That evening back at home my dad gave me a list of rules I had to follow while I was alone. I’d never been home alone before for such a long period, and he wasn’t taking any chances that I’d forget his stupid rules. I was allowed to go out during the day, but I had to be home no later than seven at night. I could hang out with friends, but I couldn’t have anyone over. And, of course, I had to do all my usual chores: clean the bathrooms, the kitchen, and walk the dogs. That last one annoyed me the most.

Whereas so many of my friends had pools in their backyards, I had an honest-to-God kennel. A kennel in the middle of the suburbs. It was stupid, but my dad loved his four dumb mastiffs even more than me, it seemed. He would have let them all stay in the house but they were too big and clumsy.

He only ever allowed one of them in the house at a time to prevent them from trashing the place. Usually walking them was the one chore he did himself or, failing that, had one of my brothers do since I was, of course, only a girl. But he was only bringing one of them to the lake, so the task of walking the rest fell to me. Cleaning the kennel was something I was used to, and that chore was also on the list.

He made sure I’d read the whole stupid list before giving me the usual threats for what would happen to me if I broke any of the rules. Then he gave me one of his credit cards and his video-rental card, along with the phone number of a neighbor of ours from across the street, Mrs. Sanford.

“If there’s some kinda emergency, call her,” he explained. “I called to let her know you’ll be alone so she’ll be checking in on ya. I also called up to Blue Moon and told them you could rent a few DVDs for the weekend. Nothing R-rated, and you’d best have them returned before I get home Monday or it’ll be your ass, got it?”

I nodded meekly, not saying a word. With my dad it was always safest to just be quiet and obedient. He didn’t say anything about my birthday before he returned to packing up for his trip. He didn’t even give me a present. In his mind the video rentals were probably present enough. My brothers, on the other hand, not only wished me a happy birthday but also gave me their traditional gift after cornering me in my bedroom a few minutes before they were supposed to leave.

“Please, no, not this year, no!” I begged as Jason and Ron grabbed me and threw me down onto my bed. They were laughing cruelly as they held me down, Jason pinning my arms and Ron my legs. Then Tyler, my oldest brother, grinned evilly and started to give me the gift my brothers liked to call “The Tickle Torture”.

“Happy birthday, Becky!” he hissed in my ear.

With that he began tickling me, starting at my rib cage and then pulling up my shirt enough so that he could get to my flat tummy. I kicked as best I could and cried out in protest, but soon I was squealing with laughter. My brothers had been doing this to me on my birthday for as long as I could remember, and I always dreaded it. Yet I always ended up laughing hysterically just the same.

It took Tyler only a few seconds to get me so that I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe. After he finished he grabbed my arms and Jason took his place. He didn’t think my shirt had been pulled up far enough so he tugged it up even higher until I thought he was going to expose my breasts. Then he tickled me too as I cried for him to stop between fits of laughter and unwanted giggles. Ron, my youngest older brother, went last. I writhed around helplessly as he went to work like the other two had. It was only with him that I noticed his hands occasionally brushing against the bottoms of my covered breasts. At the time I was naive enough to think it was just accidental.

When they finished I was beat red from laughing and completely out of breath. They each said their farewells and I laid in bed catching my breath for awhile until I heard my dad’s SUV pulling away from the house.

I was alone now. The thought made me shiver with delight. Suddenly I realized I was feeling extremely horny, something that was a bit of a surprise. I felt down between my legs and was shocked to realize I was soaking wet. The thought never occurred to me that what my brothers had just done might be the cause of it, but the reason didn’t matter anyway.

I loved feeling like this, especially when I could do something about it. I whetted my lips and smiled to myself as I got out of bed and practically tore my clothing off. I didn’t have to do it under the covers for once. I was alone! I jumped back onto my bed with a laugh and quickly began to slide my finger up the wet folds of my labia, shuddering as I made contact with my clitty.

Normally that’s about all I did when I masturbated. I never actually penetrated myself with my fingers, at least not deeply. Doing so, I thought, was too close to actual sex, and actually having sex outside of marriage was definitely a sin that could land you in Hell. But in the frame of mind I was in that didn’t seem to matter. I wanted to feel my insides, I wanted to experience what it was like to be penetrated.

As I stifled my moans of delight I squirmed my naked, just-turned-teenage body over my covers and spread my legs wide apart. And then, without a coherent thought in my head, I slid my middle finger into my virgin pussy-hole. The sensation made me bite my tongue to keep from screaming out loud in delight.

Suddenly I remembered that I didn’t have to be silent, though. Who was there to hear? As I squirmed my finger deeper inside my body I let out a long, low moan of wanton pleasure. The sound of my own voice was a real turn on for some reason. It wasn’t my normally small, soft, girlish voice. It was more the sultry sound of a groan woman, one that I only barely recognized.

The feeling of my finger pressing deep into my vagina was sending shock-waves all across my tiny body, and I found myself squeezing one of my large breasts with my free hand, desperate to give my electrified body every bit of pleasure I could. That was also something new. Back when I used to do it in the shower I had no breasts to squeeze, and since growing them I had always made sure to keep my pajama top on in bed in case I got interrupted.

I closed my eyes and moaned even more loudly as I played with my breast with one hand, my finger squirming away inside my hole with the other. I found that playing with the small, pink nipple that capped my breast really got me going. I was crying out and panting in desire, thrusting my hips forward in time with my pummeling finger as I twisted my hardened little nipple. It barely registered when I broke through my maidenhead, though I’m sure I did during that session since I found a small trickle of blood on my sheets afterward. Part of me regretted losing my hymen like that, but the orgasm I experienced more than made up for popping my cherry.

It was an intense orgasm to say the least. I felt both disoriented and giddy, exhausted and charged up, after it was over. But I still felt that I wanted more. As I recovered from fingering myself for the first time I almost started doing so again. But then I saw the time on my alarm clock out of the corner of my eye and realized I’d better get going. After all, my dad and brothers wouldn’t be back until Monday afternoon. I’d have plenty of time to finger myself some more later.

I crawled out of bed and quickly got dressed. It was ten after six and I wanted to rent a movie for the night, but I had to hurry. Knowing my dad he’d be calling the house at 7:01 just to make sure I was obeying his stupid rules. My hair was a total mess but I quickly brushed it out and pulled it back in a simple ponytail with a scrunchy, then ran downstairs to the kitchen. After grabbing my purse and pulling on my sneakers I was out the door and on my bike.

I rode it furiously in the direction of Blue Moon Video, my mind still charged up from the incredible orgasm I’d just had. As I passed by a neighbor watering his lawn, I noticed him turn his head to watch me ride by. I smiled to myself, certain beyond a doubt that he’d love to put his penis where my finger had just been. But no, no, that wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t let myself think like that. Pressing a finger into my little hole was one thing, but having sex with a man was entirely different. Having sex could mean pregnancy or disease in addition to an eternity in Hell. I wouldn’t be able to do that until I was married.

As I neared the video store about twenty minutes later, though, an idea was taking shape in my hormone-addled brain. If I couldn’t have honest-to-God sex with a man, couldn’t I at least simulate it? With something bigger than my own finger, I mean. Something closer to the size of a real penis. I wasn’t sure what size penises normally were, but I could still remember feeling the outline of my father’s hard on when he’d spanked me a few months before. It had felt massive. The thought of pressing something that large into my tiny body was getting me incredibly worked up. I shook the thought away as I finally reached the store, though. I was just being silly, I told myself. There was no way women used objects to pleasure themselves. It was just too weird to imagine.

I caught more people checking me out as I entered the small video store and that made me feel bubbly and sexy. I practically skipped around the store in my short denim shorts, trying to catch men and boys sneaking peaks at my delectable young butt and chest. I wasn’t exactly in a good frame of mind to be selecting movies for a Friday night, but I did my best. At the back of the store I stopped and stared forlornly at the entrance to the “Adults Only” section. So close and yet so far.

By the time I’d finally selected a couple of teeny-bopper comedies to watch, the store had mostly emptied. Only the big, overweight middle-aged guy who owned the place was still there, helping a customer in front of me in line. He recognized me as I stepped to the counter, and smiled.

“Why if it isn’t Becky Sullivan,” he said with a grin. “Your dad said you’d more than like be up here this weekend. What’s the, ahh, big occasion?”

“It’s my birthday and I’m all alone,” I said with my prettiest smile. The store owner wasn’t handsome in the least, what with his greased back hair and receding hairline, his slumped and beefy shoulders, and his constantly leering gray eyes. But he was a man and I’d found that I liked flirting with men of all kinds. I was a total amateur at it and it was fun to practice, especially when they were blatantly checking you out. “My daddy thought a couple of movies would keep me company.”

“Just, ahh, so long as they’re rated PG-13 or under, though,” he said with a wink. “Well happy birthday anyway, little one. Let’s, ahh, see what you got.”

I giggled and handed him the video cases. He took them and made comments about my selections as he turned around to go through some drawers to get the actual DVDs. After he placed them in their cases I gave him my dad’s rental card and credit card. After the transaction cleared I gave him a little wave and a smile and said goodbye. I could feel his eyes locked onto my butt as I walked out of the store.

I had to really bust my butt to get home in time but I managed to make it. And sure enough, it was only ten after seven when my dad called. He barely said a word and then hung up on me. Jerk, I thought to myself. He was probably hoping I wouldn’t be there just so he could ground me.

The panicked bike ride home along with sudden hunger sort of killed the hormonal high I’d been on when I left. I made myself a salad and some grilled chicken and ate dinner, feeling sort of lonely at the big kitchen table all by myself. Outside the sun was beginning to set as it neared eight o’ clock and I decided to change into my pajamas, pop some popcorn, and watch one of my movies.

When the DVD started I was munching on some popcorn when I nearly choked. The main menu to the movie had popped up, and this definitely wasn’t the PG-13 teen comedy I’d rented at the store. In big, bold letters across the screen were the words, “Horny Hungry Angels 4”, and the image of a naked woman with her hands between her legs was posing next to the menu options.

I stared at the frozen picture for a long moment, my mouth full of half-chewed popcorn. What the heck was this? I jumped out of my seat, pounded over to the DVD player, and ejected the disc. It was a blank pink disc with nothing on it to indicate what movie it was supposed to be. I placed it back into the machine with trembling fingers and stared up at the large TV screen as it loaded. I was on my knees in front of the set when once again it glared to life, the same image of the woman there along with the same title.

“A porno,” I whispered out loud, in awe. Suddenly my horniness from earlier was back in full force. The guy at the video store must have made a mistake! Or had he? It occurred to me that he could have done this intentionally, getting some cheap thrill out of the idea of a 13-year-old girl watching an adult movie. But no, that couldn’t be. He could get in major trouble if anyone found out about this, right? It had to be a mistake, I told myself. But wow, what a great mistake! Adrenalene began pumping through my veins as I realized that I would finally get a chance to see an adult movie, something forbidden, something wrong. It gave me a huge, naughty thrill that made me smile. Happy birthday to me!

I went quickly to the window that overlooked our backyard and closed the drapes. My heart was racing with anticipation when I got back to the sofa and grabbed the DVD remote. The movie’s menu had several options but the only one I cared about was the top one that said “play”. I selected it, hit enter, and giggled out loud when a woman’s voice moaned in response. The screen faded to black and suddenly some opening credits were playing against a black background along with some raunchy, heavy music.

The movie wasted no time getting to the action. The opening scene showed a beautiful woman in her mid-twenties, dressed only in bra and panties, doing some dishes at a kitchen sink. The camera zoomed in to show off her butt and breasts as she worked, and it occurred to me how unusual it was to be doing dishes wearing only a lacy red bra and matching g-string, but I didn’t care. After the camera finished examining the woman’s every feature it panned away to reveal a bare chested hunk wearing a pair of grimy looking jeans and work boots. He was admiring the woman, who didn’t seem to notice him at first. When she did it what was with obviously feigned surprise.

“Are you the plumber?” the supposedly startled woman asked. “You were supposed to get her at five!”

“I wanted to do my plumbing early,” the man said in response. Then, unbelievably, he crossed over the short distance to the woman and grabbed her. The soundtrack blared to life again as he reached out for her and pulled her to him. She didn’t resist at all: in fact, she seemed to want him to do it. Was he really supposed to be a stranger? After kissing her long and hard on the mouth she dropped to her knees in front of him and unzipped his jeans. A massively large and impossibly hard penis popped out of it. I gasped at the sight of it. It was the first hard penis I’d ever seen outside of a school text-book.

“I love your cock,” the woman said to the man as she gripped it in her hand and roughly stroked it.

“Suck it, bitch,” he replied.

I gasped again in genuine shock. Not only at his words (why would he call her a bitch?) but at her actions. She was taking his thing into her mouth! I’d never heard of a blow-job before but I realized that this must be what oral sex was. All we’d been told about it in sex-ed class was that it, too, was a sin. I could care less about sins right now, though. My panties were soaking wet and my light pink flannel PJ’s were begging to come off. With my large blue eyes glued to the action onscreen I hastily untied the string that held them up and then kicked off my bottoms without a thought.

What I watched after that was the most electrifying, intense, disgusting, and wonderful thing I’d ever seen before. The woman gave the man a blow-job, deep-throating it until she gagged, for nearly five whole minutes. Then he pulled her roughly to her feet and made her lean against the kitchen counter and spread her legs. The camera zoomed in to show his massive cock probing at her pussy from behind as she grunted for him to fuck her and, before too long, he did. In a close up shot I watched in awe as the swollen purple head of his dick popped into her glistening slit.

I’d never imagined that a porno movie could be so graphic! It wasn’t what I’d hoped for at all. No. It was much more than I could have hoped for. The penis slid slowly into the woman, who moaned loudly in response and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. As the man pounded the grunting woman from behind I found myself sliding my finger into my own cunt. It didn’t take much to make me cum, but the orgasm wasn’t nearly enough to sate the new found desire burning inside me.

I leaned back into the couch and spread my legs wider, not caring that I was dripping my juices onto the family sofa, not caring that I was being loud as I slid two fingers into my hole. The feeling of them squeezing their way inside my tight pussy was making me cry with pleasure. I was just beginning to unbutton my top with my free hand, desperate to be completely naked now, when suddenly the man pulled his cock out of her and the woman got back on her knees in front of him.

For a moment I thought she was going to suck on his thing again, but instead she just smiled and told him to cum on her face, to cum now, that she wanted to taste it. Before I could figure out what “it” was, the man’s cock spewed forth a gooey white substance all over the woman’s pretty face. I gasped in surprise. Semen? Why would he cover her face with his own semen? The scene ended with the woman smiling, her face glazed with the man’s goo. She, at least, seemed to enjoy it. And though it made no sense to me, even that disgusting display intensified my burning desire to cum again.

It didn’t take long for me to get my wish. I was still panting from my third orgasm of the day when the next scene started. I realized then that there must not be any kind of story: the movie was just one sex scene after another. That was fine by me. This scene began with a different woman, already naked and even more attractive than the last. She had long brown hair streaked with golden highlights, and her body was perfect in every way. Suddenly mine didn’t seem quite so developed after all.

This was a full grown woman, not some barely pubescent girl. She smiling at the camera from a small white love-seat and her eyes seemed to twinkle as she did. She told the camera her name and said that she loved to fuck herself. That certainly got my attention. My fingers were still gently sawing in and out of my hole as I wondered what she meant by that. I got my answer when she reached off screen for a long, phallic shaped device, as large if not larger than the penis from the first scene. My eyes widened as she spread her legs to reveal her pussy– which was hairless, I noticed– and place the strange device against her glistening pink hole.

I was so enthralled with what I saw next that I stopped fingering myself. I stared in wonder as the woman forced the large object into herself. It was making a loud buzzing sound as inch after inch of it disappeared into her perfect body. I was dumbstruck. Only a couple of hours ago the idea of using an object to simulate sex had occurred to me, but it had seemed so far-fetched I’d dismissed it as silly and stupid. Turns out it wasn’t just some fanciful idea from a hormone-addled teenage brain, though. The proof was on screen right now. Here was a woman fucking herself with an inanimate object.

Suddenly I pulled my fingers out of my dripping slit and paused the movie. I had to try it out for myself now. I stood up quickly and felt dizzy for a moment. After steadying myself I began to wander around the room, naked from the waist down, walking aimlessly as if the object I desired would magically appear so long as I was pacing. After a moment or two I giggled out loud and smiled. I knew exactly what would work. Heck, I’d eaten one in my salad less than an hour ago.

We had three cucumbers left in the fridge, and all were massive in size. I wondered briefly if they might be too big, but my utter horniness overruled my doubt. I grabbed the freshest, firmest of the hard vegetables and slammed the fridge door shut. Just as I did the doorbell rang.

I froze in fear. Who could it possibly be? One of my friends? No, I wasn’t the only one with a curfew and it was already dark outside. Then who?

The doorbell rang again before I snapped out of my panic induced pose. “Just a minute!” I cried out fearfully. I took an uncertain step in the direction of the family room when the doorbell began to ring over and over angrily. Spinning on my heels, and with my heart pounding in fear, I found myself striding toward the front door quickly. Peeking out the front door I saw an impatient young woman standing on my porch waiting in obvious annoyance. I sighed in relief when I saw her. She was Mrs. Sanford’s daughter, the neighbor from across the street my dad had said might be checking in on me.

I was naked from the waist down and my flannel pajama top was halfway open. To hide my nakedness I put myself behind the door, opened it just a crack, and greeted the young woman with a smile. She would only be able to see my face and there was no reason I shouldn’t be able to get rid of her quickly. It wasn’t until after I said hi, though, that I realized she could also see my left hand.

Which was still clutching the large cucumber.

She seemed bored and annoyed as she said, “Yeah, my mom told your dad she’d check in on you but she’s too damned lazy to do it herself. You seem alive and well to me, though, so I’ll just be…” Just then her eyes locked onto the green vegetable clutched in my left hand. I was squeezing it hard with a guilty conscience. Could she know? My eyes were wide with fear as I stared at her. She was looking at the cucumber suspiciously, and then seemed to recognize the fear in my eyes. With a cocky little grin she said, “What are you doing with that? Why are you hiding behind the door?”

I started to stammer out the words “salad” and “no” but couldn’t marshal the strength to as she pushed open the door. With a shriek I turned quickly and ran up the stairs. She no doubt got a full view of my naked ass and pussy before I disappeared around the corner and went into my bedroom.

I was mortified. Why hadn’t I taken the time to pull on my PJ’s before answering the door? I threw myself into my bed and began to cry in embarrassment and fear. If the girl I now remembered as Amy Sanford told her mom about what she’d seen my dad would definitely find out. Mrs. Sanford was the biggest gossip in the subdivision, everyone knew. It’s probably why he had chosen her to keep tabs on me.

How could I have been so reckless, to go and act like I was completely alone and safe from prying eyes? My dad had even warned me she might come over and yet I’d gone to the kitchen half naked, had answered the door with that damned cucumber in my hand! How foolish I had been. The horniness, the orgasms, they had all clouded my brain. After sobbing for a good five minutes I made a solemn promise to God that if He could somehow get me out of this mess I’d never be so stupid again.

It was only after making this silent little prayer that I realized I could hear moaning from downstairs. The movie was playing. I groaned in despair. Amy must have started it again. It made me angry that she would come waltzing into my home without being invited, but then I realized I had no one to complain to. If she told my dad that she’d discovered me watching a porno he certainly wouldn’t care that she’d come in uninvited. I had to make sure she didn’t tell him, but how? Conjuring up all the courage I could, I pulled on another pair of pajama bottoms, buttoned up my top, and went quickly downstairs.

Sure enough Amy was sitting there on the couch watching the movie. She was sort of strange looking, the way she dressed and did her hair. She wore mostly black clothing, a fishnet top with only a small black halter beneath it to cover her boobs, and worn black denim jeans with holes torn in at her thighs and knees. She also wore combat boots and was accessorized with studded leather wrist bands, a dog collar around her throat, and multiple piercings.

She’d always stood out in our otherwise drab and conformist neighborhood. Her hair was dyed a dark neon pink and it was short and spiky, too. She had that Goth-punk look, I guess, and I had always found her sort of scary and weird. But she wasn’t ugly in the least: her body was fit and firm with nice big tits and a round tight ass. She was about 20-years-old now, I thought, though I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that she went to college at Ohio State and was always gone in the fall.

“So you like watching pornos, huh?” She said without looking at me. She had a cocky grin on her face but kept her eyes fixed on the television screen. “Is that what you planned on doing with the cucumber? You wanted to shove it up your little cunt like this slut porn star?”

“I, no, you don’t… ,” I stammered. Her tone of voice was friendly but her words were filthy and dripping mean. “I uhm, it’s not mine… it was an accident!”

She must have noticed the fear and desperation in my voice because just then she paused the movie again with the image of the woman fucking herself frozen in place. She turned to look at me and smiled.

“Oh, come on hon, don’t be so afraid,” she said. “Take a seat. We’ll have a cigarette together.”

With all the confidence in the world she half stood from her seat and produced a pack of menthol cigarettes and a lighter from her jeans pocket. As she did I slowly walked around to the opposite end of the sofa and sat down gingerly.

“Uhm, you can’t… uhm, smoke in here,” I said softly.

She waved away my words as she lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “Just leave the windows open tomorrow,” she said. “My parents never smoked either. I did this all the time when I was your age, never got caught. Here.”

She offered the pack of smokes to me, then, and after a pause I leaned over and took one. I had no interest in smoking but I didn’t want to offend her in any way. If she told her mom about what she’d seen…

She lit the cigarette for me and I took an awkward hit. It made me feel light headed.

“Better?” she asked with a smile. “A good smoke always calms me down. You don’t need to be afraid, Becky. I’m not gonna rat on you. I just want to know what you were doing here. You seem kinda young for all this shit.”

Her words lifted a great weight off of my shoulders. She wasn’t going to tell! Suddenly she was my hero, my savior, my prayer answered in the flesh. And as I smoked the words came pouring out of me. I don’t know why I told her everything I did. I could have made a lot of stuff up instead. But I didn’t. I told her all about how I’d been masturbating for years, how I’d quit for so long because it was a sin and then started again after getting spanked. I told her about how frustrated I’d been lately since I couldn’t get my hands on anything more substantive than a PG-13 rated movie.

The lousy birthday, the video store, the surprise when I got home, and even my plan with the cucumber. I confessed all. And it felt good to finally confide in someone, especially since she didn’t seem to be judging me. She just nodded along and smiled encouragingly. When I was finished I realized I’d smoked the cigarette down to its butt and Amy offered me the Coca Cola can I’d been drinking earlier for me to drop it in.

Then I said, “So I mean, does all that make me sick? Am I some weirdo or something?”

Amy laughed. “Are you kidding? Fuck no, hon. When I was your age I was into all kinds of fucked up shit. I mean I didn’t ever put anything larger than my index finger up my twat until I got to high school, but so what? I got eaten out for the first time when I was even younger than you.”

She was grinning at me as though I should know what that meant. “Eaten out?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh my god you are a child,” she said. “Getting eaten out is when someone licks your pussy until you cum.”

My eyes widened. That must be what oral sex for women was, I realized. “Wh-who… who…”

“Who ate my cunt? I’ll tell you but you have to promise not to tell,” she said, grinning wickedly. After I nodded she whispered, “My dog!”

“Your WHAT?” I gasped. She just laughed.

“Oh yeah, that shitty little Boston Terrier you’ve probably seen my parents walking around,” she laughed as she lit up another cigarette. “I’d just lather up my cunt with butter or jelly and the stupid shit would go to town. I don’t know how many condiments I wasted getting off from that dog, but at the time it was totally worth it. The orgasms were good and dogs don’t tell secrets, you know?”

I was stunned speechless. She offered me the pack of smokes and without really meaning to I leaned over and accepted one. She was grinning at me wordlessly as she lit it for me. She seemed to be assessing me somehow as we smoked in silence for a minute. The smoke was making me a little dizzy and it tasted a bit nasty, too, but it did seem to relax me somewhat. I took the opportunity to really study her face. She really was quite attractive in an exotic sort of way. Her nose was a little crooked but it suited her older face. Her left eyebrow was pierced along with her right nostril, and thick-gauge rings dangled from her ears, too.

“Tell you what,” she said, breaking the silence. “You still have a couple hours left of your birthday, so I’m going to give you the present of a lifetime.”

“Wh-what present?” I asked, suddenly nervous again. The only present I wanted was for her to keep her mouth shut, but this scarily dressed young woman oozed confidence and authority. I felt as meek and timid in her presence as I did whenever I was around my dad. And she just grinned and stood up from her seat in response, making me feel more nervous. I took a long drag from what remained of my cigarette as she walked over to where I was sitting and sat back down next to me. She was so close that her body brushed against mine, making me feel totally uncomfortable.

“I’m going to teach you all about that budding body of yours,” she whispered in my ear. “Sexy little girl like you is gonna be beating guys off with a stick very soon. Wouldn’t you like learn about your body from another girl before you go letting some stupid teenage boy fumble around with it?” At that moment she placed her hand on my chest. Just like that, as though it was no big deal. Just like that, she was giving my right breast a gentle little squeeze through my top and bra.

“What!” I shrieked in surprise. I suddenly realized what she was getting at. I’d heard of lesbians before, sure, but the idea of doing something with another girl was just… well, evil! And wrong! And sick! I jumped up from my seat in a sudden panic and said, “No, I think you should go, I…”

“SIT BACK DOWN!” she roared at me, standing up as she did. I cowered in her presence for a moment, my eyes wide and pleading in fear, but found myself slowly sitting back down just as she’d commanded. I looked up at her with tears in my eyes and my hands in my lap. She pointed a finger in my face and said, “Now you listen to me, Becky. I think I know exactly what kind of girl you are so I’m going to make this simple for you. If you disobey me again tonight, or you so much as breathe the word ‘no’ again, I’m gonna go back over to my house, get the contact number your dad left my mom, and call him myself. TONIGHT. Do you want that? Is that what you want?”

“N-no,” I sobbed. Tears were rolling down my cheeks now as I trembled in fear. She smacked me across the face.

“What did I just tell you!” she hissed. “Do not use that word, not again. Understand?”

“Y-yes, I’m s-s-sorry,” I stammered.

She smiled. “Good.” Then she slowly took her seat next to me again and her voice returned to its formerly friendly tone. “Now let’s see what we have here, hmm?” Just then she pressed her hand down between my legs, forcing them apart as she did. I gave no resistance and soon she was cupping my mound through the thin fabric of my PJ’s. Only a thin layer of flannel pajama bottoms separated my cunt from her cupped hand. “Mmm,” she smiled, “you’re soaking wet. You like being told what to do, don’t you?”

I blinked back my tears and just nodded my head. She was right about me being soaked, after all. I didn’t understand it but it was true. I’d gotten horny from her commanding me, from her yelling at me like that. It was so confusing!

Her hand was still between my legs and she began to rub me there. It was so strange and exciting to feel someone touch me like that for the first time. I couldn’t deny the pleasure that was emanating from my pussy now, as humiliating as it was. Meanwhile she was purring softly in my ear, saying, “You see, Becky, there are two kinds of people in this world: doms and subs. Dominant people, like me, get off on being in charge. Submissive people, like you, get off on being controlled, and abused, and taken advantage of. In a way you’re the luckiest person I know. At your age and with your looks you’re going to be bumping into doms wherever you go. You think that video store guy didn’t know what he was doing when he gave you that video? Ha! Everything about you screams victim. Doms like us are easy to find, hon, but a good sub is so rare, so rare indeed… a girl like you will never want for the kind of attention your little cunnie her is so desperate for.”

I listened to her words and tried to stay focused on them as Amy slid her hand down the front of my flannel pants. I’d neglected to put on any underwear before coming back downstairs so she now had full access to my cunt. It was all I could do not to start moaning. But I didn’t want to admit that she was right. I would do this, I would endure this, because she had the goods on me. She could get me into more trouble than I’d ever even dreamed of. That’s why I would play along, not because I was a “sub”, as she put it. That’s what I told myself, at least, even as my body tingled with desire.

“Close your eyes,” she commanded, and I did. My lips were slightly open as I breathed with pleasure from her touch. When she pressed her own lips against them I finally moaned. Just like that I was finally having my first kiss. It was with a 20-year-old woman whose hand was down my pants, but there it was. The kiss I would always remember, my first kiss in the world.

When her tongue entered my mouth I groaned into her embrace. I could no longer deny the intense pleasure I was feeling but I had no idea what to do. I sat there, frozen, my legs slightly parted as her tongue squirmed around inside my mouth. It flicked against my own tongue, electrifying me in ways I’d never felt before. Still, though, I just sat there frozen, even as her fingers began to flick at my wet slit, searching for my clit in a gentle, almost caring way.

She broke off the kiss after what seemed like an eternity. “Now stand up,” she commanded me.

I blinked open my eyes as her hand pulled itself free from my pants. I was already close to another orgasm and I was confused as hell about why she would stop. When I looked at her face I saw a half-smile there. Slowly I stood up on wobbly legs as she once again stood up half way so that she could produce something from her jeans pocket. It was a cell phone.

She told me to stand in front of her and I did so, meekly and obediently, as my mind swam in wonder and confusion. She’d lit another cigarette and it was dangling out from between her lips as she dialed a number on the phone. Her eyes stayed fixed on me as she pressed the phone to her ear. Suddenly she said, “Come on now, strip. Get naked for me.”

My mouth half opened as though I was going to say something, but what was I supposed to say? And who the heck was she calling at a moment like this? I wondered what I should do before I noticed her eyes beginning to narrow as though she was getting angry. That’s when my hands went to the top button of my pink flannel top and began to fumble around with it. She nodded her head at me even as her phone call was finally answered.

“Hey babe, it’s me,” Amy said into the cell phone. I was working anxiously on the second button of my top when I noticed that Amy, in her sitting position, was unbuckling the belt around her waist. That made me gulp in anticipation. So she was going to undress, too?

“Yeah, I’m kinda beat right now,” Amy went on into the phone as she began to unzip her jeans, the cell phone pressed against her ear with her shoulder and a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. “No, no, I’ll still be over, it’ll just be later… Elissa, come on girl, you know I want to see you, I just need a quick power nap to get ready. An hour or so, not too long… Yeah, go ahead, I don’t mind, you know I like taking advantage of you when you’re drunk… Ha! I know, alright… Okay, love you too… bye.”

By the time she was done with her conversation she’d pushed her pants down to around her ankles and kicked them off to the side. She had long, milky white legs that weren’t exactly toned but hadn’t gone to fat, either. Along the side of her left thigh a tattoo emerged from her simple black panties. It looked like flames or something, and I wondered how high up it went on her body. I’d probably be finding out soon, I realized. I, meanwhile, had unbuttoned my shirt all the way but had stopped there now that she was done with her conversation. She was staring at me with an odd, cocky expression on her face. I would later learn that it was a look of lust and dominance, a look I’d end up seeing many times from many people.

“Damn, you are pretty,” she observed as she took a hit from her smoke. “Now go on, hurry up. I haven’t got all day.”

There wasn’t anything that bad about being naked in front of another girl, I decided. Of course, this wasn’t exactly another girl so much as it was a full grown woman who was about to do God knew what to me. Still, I didn’t have much of a choice and my cunt was still sopping wet. With a nervous little frown on my cute young face, I chewed on my lower lip as I slid out from my top. I let it drop to the floor right at my feet and then pushed down the loose fitting pajama bottoms, revealing my naked pussy for the first time to another human being in a sexual situation.

The thought made me tingle all over as she gestured for me to continue. I reached around behind my back and fumbled with the clasp of my bra as she watched on. After a moment it snapped free. I slowly pulled one arm after another through the hoops and then let it, too, fall to the floor. The desire to cover my naked breasts was overwhelming so I crossed my arms over my chest and stood there nervously as she soaked in my naked teenage body.

She whistled softly. “Nice,” she said. “The carpet matches the drapes, I see. But I don’t think I like the ponytail. Take that scrunchy out and toss your head around a little bit. Let’s see that long golden hair of yours.”

She was really enjoying telling me what to do, I could tell. Of course, this wasn’t exactly torture for me, either. Exposing my breasts to her again, I reached my arms back behind my head and undid the scrunchy that was pulling my long hair back. I realized my small pink nipples were hard and pointing right at Amy as I did. After I was done I tossed my hair around with my head, just as she’d commanded, so that it now fell around my face, spilling over my chest and tickling my naked, goose-bumped flesh. I crossed my arms over my exposed breasts again and waited.

“Nice, very pretty,” Amy said. “But I don’t think that’s the right look for tonight. Come over here, get on your knees. And give me the scrunchy.”

I didn’t know what she had in mind but I dropped dutifully to my knees and crawled forward to between her spread legs as she’d instructed. After I was so close that my shoulders were brushing against the insides of her thighs I handed her the scrunchy. Suddenly she was grabbing my head, sort of turning it to the side as she gathered up my long hair with her hands.

My nose was pressed into her thigh and the contact sent ripples of desire down my body, even as she pulled my hair back so painfully I almost cried out. She gave me another ponytail, a much tighter one, pulling back my hair so hard that my hairline was aching with pain. She doubled up the scrunchy four or five times so that it would hold it securely in place. After it was done not a strand of hair fell over my youthful face and my scalp hurt from the tightness of it.

“Much better,” she said, looking down at me. She was gently cupping my face in her free hand as she finished her cigarette with the other. “Now, take off my underwear for me, slut.”

She’d just called me the nastiest name a girl could call another girl, and yet all it did was heighten my arousal. Without thinking I clasped my small hands in the waistband of her panties and began tugging them down as she lifted her butt up from her seat. I had to scooch back so that I could pull them all the way off, and I did. Soon she was naked from the waist down, except for her socks, which she hadn’t taken off. Obediently I crawled back into place between her now completely naked thighs and marveled at the sight of her pussy.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Now let’s see if you’re any better than a Boston Terrier. Eat me out, slut.”

My eyes widened with apprehension. In the back of my mind I’d known this was coming, but still, I’d only just learned what being eaten out was. And now she wanted me to do it to her? Involuntarily I began to slowly shake my head as my eyes pleaded up at her. “I, I,” I began to stammer, “I d-don’t know how…”

Suddenly she gripped me where she’d knotted the scrunchy in the back of my head. I shrieked in pain as she roughly jerked my head backward. And then, to my utter surprise and disgust, she spat in my face.

“What did I say about using that word?” she hissed at me as her big glob of saliva rolled down my face. When I went to wipe it off she swatted my hand away. “No, it stays there, you stupid little bitch. If you defy me one more time a little spit on that pretty face will be the least of your worries. Now, go on, eat out my cunt. Let’s see how you do at first and then I’ll give you pointers.”

If anything I was even more turned on now. The glob of spit was trickling down my brow, around my left eye, threatening to dribble its way onto it. It was disgusting and humiliating but my pussy was sopping wet. I didn’t resist as she pulled my head in between her legs, which she had spread wide for me now. A second later my was face was mashed into the damp folds of her hairless cunt and all I could do was gasp. When I did, though, my lips parted and I tasted her juices. It was a sweet, musky taste unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. Out of pure instinct I stuck out my long pink tongue and when it made contact with the folds of her spongy labia I nearly groaned with pleasure.

The 20-year-old college student from across the street let me lick at her twat inexpertly for a few minutes. She was sighing softly and I could hear her lighting up a cigarette, too. That’s when she began giving me pointers. She told me to nibble gently on the folds of her femininity, and I did so obediently. Then she told me to press my tongue in further, lower down, until it entered her hole. Swirl it around, let it go inside he, she instructed, and I obeyed.

She was beginning to squirm her pussy against my face now and it was getting hard to breathe. When she told me to lick back up until I reached her swollen clitty, though, I didn’t hesitate. She kept instructing me like that as though I were her pupil. An apprentice for a trade I’d not known existed just an hour before. Even so, it was easily the most arousing thing, to give this woman so much pleasure, to be told what to do and to have no choice but to obey. I wanted nothing more than to touch myself but I needed my hands to push against the inside of her thighs which kept threatening to close in around my head and suffocate me.

“Oh, yeah,” she was sighing now, “that’s great, that’s perfect… use your hands, now… spread my lips, get your tongue in deep…”

I did the best I could to obey her but my hands were shaking and her pussy lips were slippery. Even so I managed to push aside her labia with my thumbs and get my tongue into her hole more deeply than before. She cried out in pleasure as her juices poured into my mouth. Suddenly her thighs tensed and squeezed with impossible strength around my head, cutting off all my air so I couldn’t breathe. She was moaning above me and I realized she was cumming. I kept at it, trying to do better, trying to please her even more. My mind was a swarm of erotic images and nasty thoughts as I crazily ate her out as she came and came.

“Okay, okay,” she said, pushing my head away. Her legs had gone limp and the sound of her voice seemed to awake me from a trance. I looked up at her, my face glistening with her juices. She stared back down at me with a lazy satisfied expression and said, “Get up here. I want to taste myself on those pretty lips of yours.”

I crawled up from my kneeling position and climbed into her lap. She’d squeezed her legs back together and I straddled her, shuddering at the sensation of my burning wet cunt on her naked thighs. I was breathing heavily as she put her hand behind my neck and pulled me in close so that my naked tits pressed against her clothed ones. She was a lot taller than me but in this position our heads almost lined up as she pressed her lips against mine. This time, as we kissed, I didn’t just sit there like a statue. My hands went around her back and pulled her into me even as she did the same, our tongues swirling around each other as she tasted her own cunt from my mouth.

“Well, then,” Amy said after finally breaking off my kiss. “Did you learn anything tonight?”

She was grinning, and it was infectious. “Y-yeah,” I smiled at her, my arms still draped around her neck. “So, uhm… now what?”

“Now?” she asked as she pushed me away. “Well, now I have to get going.”

And just like that she pushed me off of her lap and stood up. I stared at her in confusion as she searched around for her jeans. “It’s already eleven, Jesus,” she mumbled. “Elissa’s gonna kill me if I’m much later. Do you see my panties anywhere?”

Naked and confused, and with my body aching to cum, I just stared at her dumbstruck. Tears were welling up in my eyes as I watched her pull on her panties after she found them, a newly lit cigarette dangling from her mouth. How could it already be 11 o’ clock? Why did it even matter? It felt like she’d just gotten there. It felt like both an eternity and only an instant had gone by.

After she pulled her jeans back on she seemed to notice me again. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, now. I couldn’t stop them. I was so confused and hurt and aroused that I wanted to bawl like a little baby. “Aww, poor girl,” she said sympathetically. “You really need to cum, don’t you?”

I sniffed and nodded my head. That was it, I realized. I need to cum, I desperately needed to cum. And it seemed so unfair that I would give her an orgasm without receiving the same in kind. She sighed at me and said, “If I were really cruel I’d just leave you like this. Sooner or later you’re going to have to learn to expect getting frustrated like this, I can already tell. But I’m not mean to teach you that lesson.” She sighed. “Come on, stretch out, spread your legs.”

Eagerly I did as she commanded as she knelt down on the floor next to the sofa. At first I thought she was going to eat me out and actually, that’s what I desperately wanted. Instead she dropped her cigarette in the soda can and then gently rested her right hand on my damp mound between my legs. With her left had she lovingly caressed my naked tits, making me sigh with pleasure and relief. She was staring down into my eyes with a little smile on her lips as she said, “You’re so worked up, Jesus. I forgot what it was like to be thirteen. You’re one in a million, Becky.”

And with that her right hand began slapping down painfully on my young pussy.

I cried out in surprise. The contrast between the way her left hand was gently caressing my tits and the way her right hand was painfully slapping down on my damp cunt was stark. I squeaked out little pitiful sounds of pain and pleasure as she just stared down at me with that cocky half smile, seemingly enjoying my torment. My body responded instantly, bucking and tensing and squirming all at once. And then the pain dulled and there was only pleasure between my legs. Her hand was slapping down hard against my slit, stinging my clit, sending shock-waves of pleasure up my body. I exploded into an orgasm that was so sudden I nearly blacked out.

She stopped after I came, and kissed me gently on the lips. “I wish I’d known what a slut you were at the beginning of summer,” she said softly. “We could have had a lot of fun together. Oh, well. There’s always Thanksgiving.”

With that she stood. I stared up at her, confused and relieved. What did she mean about Thanksgiving? I asked her.

“I’m moving back to the dorms tomorrow, silly,” she said as she laced up her combat boots. “Columbus is a four hour drive. I can’t exactly drive home every weekend, even for a tasty cunt like yours. Oh, come on, don’t look so upset. Here, have another cigarette.”

She tossed me over her half-empty pack, which landed on my chest. Slowly I sat up and in a daze I lit up another smoke. Columbus, I thought. I remembered now that she went to Ohio State, which was quite a commute. I took a deep, long hit from the smoke and tried not to cry. The taste of the menthol was wonderful, somehow. Amazing, really. It calmed me down and I leaned back into the sofa and watched as she finished lacing her boots. When she stood, I meekly handed the pack back to her.

“You know what? Keep it,” she said. “Children look so sexy when they’re smoking.”

That stung. Children, I thought. That’s what she saw me as, a child. But why should it matter? All I’d wanted was to make sure she didn’t tell my dad about the movie and the cucumber and everything, and I’d gotten my wish. What did I care what she thought of me, and that she was about to walk out of my life?

“I better not get addicted,” I said softly, absurdly, simply wanting to fill the silence of the room. “I won’t be able to get anymore, once you’re gone.”

She had started walking toward the front door when she stopped. She turned and smiled at me. “Know what? You’re a pretty decent chick, so I’ll fill you in on a little secret. You know that liquor store down by Hoover Street? The one across the street from the strip-mall where Blue Moon Video is?”

“Uhm, yeah,” I said, nodding. “Silver… Silver something?”

“Silver Star,” she confirmed. “They’ll sell to minors, even one as young as you. All you have to do is write down on a piece of paper, ‘I’ll show you my tits’. When they ask for your ID, hand them that. They’ll sell you anything then.”

I stared at her and stifled a laugh. “Do I actually have to show them?”

She laughed, too. Her cell phone was ringing and she was taking it out of her pocket. “Well, duh. Just flash them for a minute and you’ll get anything you want. How do you think I get booze, I don’t turn 21 for another three months,” she said. Then she blew me a kiss as she answered her phone. “Hey, girl… Yeah, I’m on my way right now. Sorry…”

Her voice trailed off as she walked out of the family room. I heard the front door closing behind her a moment later. I collapsed back down into the sofa, smoking dazedly, recounting what had just happened as though it had been a dream. Lazily I reached for the DVD remote and started the movie again. I watched with a smile on my face as the woman on screen fucked herself with that dildo. When the next scene started and it turned out to be a lesbian scene, nothing in it shocked me. I played with myself as I watched until finally I drifted off toward sleep, the sounds of women moaning like a lullaby as I passed out into a peaceful slumber.

 

CHAPTER 2

I awoke the next morning with the dawn. I was still naked, my hair was still pulled back tight, and I stretched away my lingering dreams in the middle of the big family room. Outside the first rays of day were beginning to settle and I realized I was famished. I stood up from the sofa and began pulling on my PJ’s, not bothering with the underwear. When I noticed the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table I shrugged and thought, What the heck? I lit one after a long yawn and then padded softly toward the kitchen.

Breakfast was a big bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch along with a slice of watermelon. I ate and smoked and then decided to take a shower. I absentmindedly played with myself as I scrubbed my young body down, giggling occasionally as memories from the night before flashed in my mind. How amazing it had all been! And I’d thought it was going to be just another boring birthday.

After dressing in some scrubby clothes I went about my chores. The work seemed to fly by as my mind fantasized about Amy, about the way she’d treated me, about that woman in the movie getting fucked from behind by that man. And the dildo, my God! I had two cucumbers left, I could still do that to myself tonight if I wanted. Occasionally these thoughts got me so worked up I had to stop what I was doing and quickly pleasure myself. Nothing major, just enough to take the edge off. By 11 in the morning I’d done that at least three times, and all of the indoor work was done. That just left the stupid dogs. I pulled on an old pair of sneakers and sighed with dread at the nasty work ahead of me.

The kennel my dad had built for his dogs years before I was born wasn’t anything you could buy in a store. Combined with the fenced in area attached to it where the dogs had some room to stretch their legs it practically filled up the entire backyard. The structure itself was almost like a second house. It had a roof, insulated walls, and working electricity for heat, air conditioning, and light. Before my mom died he used to breed the large mastiffs, bringing them around the state to dog shows and even once to a national competition.

He had several awards displayed prominently in our house, along with many pictures of him hugging the winning dogs. In comparison, there were no pictures of him with me. Anyway, after my mom died he stopped breeding the dogs since he had no time anymore but he continued to raise them and buy new ones when the older ones died. One of my weekly chores was to clean out the kennel and it was filthy, nasty work that I always dreaded.

I started by letting the three he’d left home into the fenced in area. Part of the reason for insulating the kennel was to muffle their endless barking, and it worked pretty good. Once you slid open the massive door, though, the sounds could be deafening. They were yapping and barking loud enough to wake the dead as they bounded past me, almost knocking me over. After letting them pass I stepped inside and wrinkled my nose. It reeked of dog poop.

With a sigh I grabbed the shovel which hung just inside the sliding door and began scooping. It took about an hour for me to fill up a wheelbarrow with the stuff and by that time I was sweating like a pig. It was turning into a hot day already so I turned the air conditioning on. Next I slid open the back door of the kennel and wheeled out the pile of dog crap all the way to the property line at the back of our yard.

Next to one of the giant oak trees that divided our yard from our neighbors behind us I dumped it onto an existing pile of the stuff. I got a hose afterward and sprayed out the wheelbarrow and then filled up the dogs’ water trough. After filling up their bowls with food the large canines knocked me this way and that as they fought to get to their lunch. I decided to have another cigarette as I waited for them to finish eating. It didn’t take them long and soon I got out the leashes.

This was going to be the really interesting part. The dogs weren’t used to having me walk them and they seemed suspicious. I made gentle sounds to the biggest of the three, Patton, and somehow got the leash attached to his collar with little trouble. Next I turned to MacArthur. He was the youngest mastiff my dad owned and he didn’t seem to trust me at all. I had to chase him around the enclosed area. I fell down several times in the process and even stepped on a pile of dog poo.

Finally, though, the dumb dog leg me attach his leash. The final dog, Marshall, was the gentlest of all my dad’s pets. After getting his leash on I more or less led the three slobbering dogs to the end of the enclosure, opened the gate there, and then held on for dear life as the three mastiffs ran around the side of the house.

It was all I could do to keep up during our walk. The dogs were insanely strong and could easily have escaped me but they were also pretty well trained. I guided them around the block, sweating nastily now. After only about twenty minutes I decided to head back. It had to be nearing 100-degrees and I felt icky and hot and nasty. On the way home, though, I heard laughter from one of the houses I passed by and stopped.

“I didn’t know the Sullivan’s got a new dog!” a young female voice was saying sarcastically. “Oh, wait… hi, Becky!”

Giggles followed the insult. When I spotted where the sounds were coming from my heart sank. It was my friend Jody’s house, the place I’d been sunbathing at the day before. With her were two of my other supposed friends and all three of the mean girls were laughing at me.

“Uhm, hi,” I said as I struggled to control the dogs.

“Jesus, Becky, are you walking them or are they walking you?” Jody quipped. She stood from the porch and was walking toward the driveway. She was wearing a towel around her body and it looked like she’d been swimming. Then she wrinkled her nose and looked at me with disgust. “Oh, geeze, I can’t get any closer! You smell awful!”

The other girls had followed her and they were laughing. “Maybe it’s just the dogs,” one said.

“No, dogs don’t smell that bad,” the other observed. “But look, Becky’s legs are spread apart!”

My face burned red with anger and sadness. They were right that I stank: I was sweating and covered with dog crap and wearing old, hand-me-down overalls I’d inherited from one of my brothers. I should have showered and dressed up nicer before going out to walk the dogs but I’d been working all morning and I’d just wanted to get my chores over with. With a strained voice I cried to them, “Why are you being so mean!”

“Why are you such a bitch?” Jody said dryly. “Oh, wait. That’s what a female dog is, right? A bitch? I guess I just answered my own question.”

Jody and her friends were all laughing at me now. I was half tempted to sic the mastiffs on my former friends. Heck, I would have settled for a good departing remark. Instead I just choked back some tears, stared intently at my muddy boots, and led the dogs away as fast as I could.

The encounter with my former friends hurt. It hurt bad. I mean, I’d known they were starting to resent me. And I’d always known how cruel Jody could be. But my strategy in social situations with other girls had always been to fly below the radar, to never be too popular or too stand-offish. It had served me well. And with my body growing so rapidly, and obviously becoming a source of envy for Jody, I’d already accepted that Melissa would most likely be my only real friend once eighth grade started. I’d figured that at the worst Jody would just cut me out of the loop.

Now it was obvious that she didn’t just want to socially isolate me, though. She wanted to socially castrate me. And that meant that I might not even have Melissa left as friend come Tuesday morning. Jody would probably get her hooks into the girl and turn her against me like the others. That’s how Jody worked. I’d seen her do it before, and now it shamed me to realize that I’d always played along. Sure, I had always been too quiet and demure to join her in her nasty barbs against other girls she had set her sights on, but I’d never done anything to stop her either. Now my former friend’s sights were set on me. Eighth grade was going to be Hell and there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

When I got back to the house I led the dogs into the fenced in area, took off their leashes, and went inside the house. I planned to round them up and put them in the kennel later. I was in no mood right now. I went upstairs and stripped out of my soiled clothes and took a good long shower before going to my bedroom to dress and do my hair. After that I went downstairs, found my cigarettes, and lit one up. To my dismay I saw that there would only be two left after that one. With a sigh I plopped down onto the sofa, turned on the TV, and started playing the movie from the night before.

Another major letdown. It turned out that the lesbian scene was the last one on the DVD. I watched it again since I’d slept through a lot of it, but it just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t new and exciting anymore. I mean, yeah, it got me turned on all right, but not like it had the night prior. With a groan I ejected the disc and checked the other movie I’d rented. Unfortunately the owner of Blue Moon Video hadn’t made any mistake with that one and I was in no mood for a teen comedy.

Just as I was standing up there was a knock at the front door and I practically fell over myself running for it, hoping against hope that it would be Amy. To my disappointment it was only her mom. I chatted with Mrs. Sanford for a few minutes, assuring her I was okay by myself, thanking her for her compliments about how pretty I looked, that sort of thing. I managed to ask about Amy before she left but the fat middle aged woman just gave me a scowl and said that her “thankless daughter” had packed up and left that morning without even saying goodbye. After she left I slumped back against the door. God, what a horrible day it was turning out to be.

It was almost four in the afternoon now and suddenly I decided something. It had been a horrible day. I’d busted my butt doing chores and my reward had been getting ripped apart by three girls who were supposed to be my friends. I’d been everything Amy wanted me to be the night before and my only reward had been… well, an intense orgasm and some unforgettable memories, true. But she was gone. She’d left me. She’d used me for what she wanted and just left. It didn’t really surprise me but I’d been holding out hope she’d get in contact with me again. But no. Now I had just a couple days left of my summer vacation. I had just turned thirteen but hadn’t even a birthday card to show for it.

Well, forget that! I thought. Forget all of that! I was going to enjoy the rest of my day alone, and I was going to enjoy all of tomorrow alone, too. Come heck or high water I was going to enjoy my last days of freedom before having to suffer through another year of school, one that would no doubt be worse than any before it now that Jody had made me her public enemy number one. Marching into the family room I grabbed the two movie cases, and then I pounded into the kitchen. I grabbed an index card. After writing out five words in big black letters I shoved it into my tight little shorts. Next I grabbed my purse and went outside and got on my bike.

When I got to Silver Star Liquor I had grown so nervous that I’d stopped noticing when guys I passed by checked me out. What if Amy had been wrong? I kept wondering. What if I was about to make a colossal fool of myself? After seeing that there were several customers in the store I chickened out momentarily and crossed the street to Blue Moon Video. At least this place was deserted. It would make what I had planned a lot easier.

I took a moment to catch my breath before entering the store. When I did I smiled prettily and looked for the owner. He was at the far end of the counter talking with a young man who apparently worked there. When the owner saw me he straightened up and looked around outside. He seemed worried. He said something to the young man, who had a stack of movie cases in his arms, and walked toward me slowly. The young man went out onto the floor to put away the cases.

I smiled as prettily as I could, and even fluttered my eyelashes, as the big greasy haired man approached. He didn’t seem to be checking me out the way he had the day before. Rather, his eyes kept darting to the floor-to-ceiling windows as though he expected someone would be following me in. Despite this unexpected development I kept my prettiest smile plastered on my face and said to him, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Ahhh,” he said softly. “Well, that depends. I think I know why you’re here, Becky.”

My heart began to race. “Oh, really? Uhm, I mean, I was just going to get another movie… here.”

I pushed the two DVD cases toward him. For a moment he just stared at them. I saw beads of sweat forming on his big shiny forehead. Then he said, his voice all serious, “Look, I want to apologize. After you left, ahh… another customer came in. He wanted to rent this one particular… ahh, well, adult movie, let me say. When I went to get it from the drawer, though, ahh, the wrong disc had been filed there. The one that belongs in that case.” He pointed at one of the cases I’d placed on the counter, the one with the porn movie inside. “I think a mistake was made. I think the two movies were, ahh, swapped. Accidentally.”

I nodded along slowly as he talked. When he finished I mustered up all my courage and tried to play dumb while keeping the nervousness out of my voice. “Uhm, I don’t know what you mean,” I said. “The movie in this case, it was exactly what I wanted.”

For the first time since I’d gotten there his eyes met mine. I smiled as casually as I could. Then he reached slowly for the case, picked it up, and opened it. After examining its contents he looked back at me. “So, ahh, you saw it?”

I bobbed my head up and down. “Oh yeah!” I chirped, beginning to relax a little. “It was great! I mean, I’m sure there are better movies out there, but this one was awesome!”

He half laughed, half grunted at my words. His eyes were still locked on mine as though he were trying to read my mind. Speaking slowly, and lowering his voice a bit, he said, “Well, this particular movie, I’m sure you noticed, has three distinct, ahh, acts. Which was your, ahh, favorite?”

He’s testing me, I thought. He wants to make sure I really saw it. Whether or not he’d given me the movie intentionally the day before or not, he still wanted to be able to cover his ass. I chewed on my lower lip for a moment and rolled my big eyes upward as though I had a hard time deciding. In reality I just wanted to figure out how best to word it. Just then the bell above the door rang and a man and a little boy walked in. The owner greeted them and I pretended to be studying the case of the other movie I had rented. After the man led the boy toward the new releases at the back of the store I looked back at the owner.

“I guess my favorite was the first act,” I said, keeping my voice soft. Something came over me at that moment and I crossed my arms together on the counter and sort of leaned forward upon them. I had to go on my tippy toes to do it right, but the result was a mashing of my breasts together in a very suggestive– but possibly accidental, from his standpoint– way. I was wearing a sleeveless yellow shirt with a scoop neckline and suddenly the decent cleavage I’d sported became outstandingly sluttish. Especially from his vantage point high above. I continued smiling, rolling my big blue eyes up to look at his, and nearly giggled when I realized they were locked on my chest.

“The actress wasn’t the best,” I went on, trying to pretend I was oblivious to what I’d just done, “but I like how she… uhm, you know. Got what she deserved?”

The owner was smiling down at me now, finally. He said, “So you like how she got treated by the, ahh, hero?”

I nodded eagerly. “Yeah, definitely! I mean, act two was great and act three was, too, but I so loved how the uhm… villain in Act One got what was coming to her, ya know?”

The owner seemed satisfied now. More than satisfied, actually. He grinned at me and announced in a normal tone of voice the title of a movie he said I would probably like. I’d heard of it before but had never seen it, some animated movie from the 1990’s. I smiled and thanked him and then skipped out onto the floor, feeling his eyes glued to my butt as I went. I found the movie without any problem and then went back to the front counter. The man and little boy were just finishing their checkout when I bounced over to the owner and slid the empty DVD case across the counter to him.

He smiled. “Glad to see you took my, ahh, advice,” he said. He whistled softly and turned to the drawers behind him. After a few moments he turned back around, closing the case and putting it into a bag for me. I’d already produced the credit and video rental cards, but he just slid them back to me. Leaning down close he whispered, “Not to worry, Ms. Samson, I trust you’ll return this in your own due time. Just wish I didn’t have to, ahh, work late tonight. I’d like to watch that, ahh, movie with you.” He gave me a sleazy wink.

I just smiled back at him and whispered, “To be honest I kinda wanted to enjoy this by myself, ya know?” I winked back.

He chuckled as I waved goodbye. Before exiting the store I heard him call, “Come back anytime, Becky! We have lots of movies here I think you’d, ahh, enjoy! Lots of heroes and, ahh, villains!”

It was a rush getting onto my bike and riding off. I was almost giggly. It had gone perfect, better than perfect! I’d handled myself so well I couldn’t believe it. It hadn’t gone like I’d planned but I’d rolled with the punches and come out on top. I was so high on my victory that I rode boldly into the Silver Star Liquor parking lot with all the confidence in the world.

There were two customers in the store when I entered so I made my way bag to the soda section and pretended to browse. For nearly fifteen minutes I did that, going from aisle to aisle pretending to check out the merchandise of the brightly lit liquor store, waiting for all the other customers to leave. When one did, though, another would enter. Several times this happened and I was beginning to lose my high when all of a sudden I realized I was the only person not being paid to be there. Gathering my courage I approached the front counter and smiled at the dark skinned man behind it.

“Hiya!” I said happily, immediately regretting it. I should at least pretend to sound older, I thought. The dark, serious looking man raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word. Finally I went on, “Uhm, give me a pack of those menthol cigarettes.”

The man glanced over his shoulder at the pack of cigarettes I was pointing at, then looked back at me. He raised a bushy black eyebrow and said, “How old?”

He had a thick accent, and I hadn’t been prepared for the question. “Uhm, 21,” I said, almost making it sound like a question.

The man laughed and shook his head. He said a few words that weren’t English before saying, “My daughter older than you. Go home, go home.”

I blushed. This wasn’t going nearly as well as it had with the owner at Blue Moon. “I am too 21!” I protested, trying my best to sound indignant. Then, without really thinking, I pointed at a bottle of liquor on another shelf behind him and said, “And I want that, too!” That hadn’t been part of the plan at all, but the words spilled out of my mouth before I could think.

Now the man actually seemed mad. He called loudly through a door behind him in whatever his language was. Another voice called back. An exchange seemed to follow before the second man appeared. He was younger but obviously of the same Middle Eastern race. When he saw me he smiled, said a few words to the older man, and then said to me, “How may I help you, honey?”

“Uhm, I just wanted some cigarettes and, uhm,” I began. After straining my eyes so that I could read the label on the liquor bottle I continued, “And, uhm, Bacardi. But like, this guy thinks I’m too young or something!”

“Well, I’m very sorry for the misunderstanding,” the young man said gravely. His accent wasn’t nearly as thick as the older man’s. “If I could just see some ID we’ll get this straightened out.”

The ID! The first man had made me so nervous I’d forgotten about that part. “Oh!” I said as I pushed my hand into my tight fitting shorts pocket, “Yeah! I forgot! Here!”

I pushed the piece of paper across the counter and suddenly my heart was really beating hard. The younger man gave the older one a sideways glance, but even his eyebrows seemed to perk up at the sight of the 3″x5″ note-card. They exchanged a few quiet words in their language and then the older man, apparently upset, marched out from behind the counter and went to the entrance of the store.

The young man read the paper. He didn’t seem to be surprised by what he read, and now he was looking at me differently. Grinning a little he said, “Well, this seems to be in order.” He turned back to the shelf and grabbed a pack of the cigarettes and the pint of liquor. After ringing them up he put them in a big brown paper bag and waited.

“Oh!” I said while trembling in relief. I put down my purse and pulled out the credit card. He took it, read it, then placed it to the side. He was still grinning at me, still waiting.

“Oh,” I said again, softly this time. This was it. I looked over toward the entrance. The older man was craning his neck in my direction, but his body was blocking the entryway. Taking a deep breath I pulled up my yellow shirt, forcing myself not to stop, my face burning red as the man behind the counter grinned all the more. After pulling my top up over my breasts I just stood there, shaking.

“The rest, sweet honey, and hurry,” the young man urged me.

I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, and then I remembered the bra. For a moment I stood there frozen, holding my shirt up, feeling totally humiliated. How was I supposed to remove my bra without removing my shirt first? But Amy had said I just had to flash them, not strip for them! There was no the way I could get halfway undressed in the middle of the store in front of this total stranger.

“Just pull it up, pull the bra up,” the younger man whispered, his face all grins.

Duh, I thought, and without thinking I obeyed his command and suddenly my breasts spilled out into plain sight. The man behind the counter whistled softly when he saw them. I continued to hold up my shirt and now my bra, too, for him, frozen in place like a deer caught in the headlights. How long was I supposed to bare my tits for him? How long was a “flash” supposed to last?

“Okay, okay,” the young man said wistfully after what felt like forever.

Instantly I pulled both top and bra down. The young man was chuckling but he was running my dad’s credit card. With my face burning red I tried as best I could to get my breasts back inside the bra, but it would have been much easier if I could take the top off first. Breasts aren’t supposed to be fed into a bra from the bottom up. I ended up glancing around the store before thrusting my hand down the shirt and awkwardly tugging at my tits to get them back into the support garment. I was more or less done when I heard the credit card receipt printing, but I vowed that from now on I wouldn’t wear a bra into this store… if, indeed, I had the courage to ever do this again at all.

“Now,” the young man said as he dropped the receipt into the bag and handed me back the credit card, “if you get stopped on the way home, or anyone at all is to ask?”

Catching his meaning I said softly, “Uhm, a stranger bought this for me?”

He smiled, and actually reached over the counter to pat me on the head. “Good girl,” he said. “Now go on. And please be sure to shop the Silver Star again.”

I grabbed the paper bag, my purse, and muttered my thanks before marching out of the store. When I got on my bike I didn’t feel bubbly or super confident at all. It wasn’t like leaving Blue Moon Video. This was more like escaping a train wreck. But after a minute or two of riding my bike the embarrassment sort of dissipated and I realized that I was wet between my legs. I even lifted my butt up off the bike seat and pushed it back down hard a few times and could feel echoes of pleasure radiate up my body. It made me shudder. I kept doing this all the way home and by the time I reached my neighborhood I was smiling from ear to ear. I even waved at every guy I caught checking me out. I was feeling so good when I got back in the house that I actually began spinning around and laughing.

What to do first? I wondered happily. I was so high from my successes that I walked into the family room, then into the kitchen, then toward the stairway. I did this over and over again and then laughed at myself. It was ten past six so I decided on dinner first. I hadn’t had lunch and I was starving. I opened the fridge and eyed the cucumbers. “I’ll have you two later,” I said out loud. Then I hummed merrily as I found a microwave dinner and waited for it to cook. After it was done I wolfed it down, barely tasting it. I was too anxious to get started with the night’s festivities. I had a movie to watch, cigarettes to smoke, and cucumbers to, well… experiment with. I kept eying the bottle of booze, too. What was I going to do with that? Not drink it, certainly. I had just become a teenager but I was still only thirteen. That was way out of my league.

After eating I ran upstairs and stripped naked. Giggling to myself I began posing in front of the mirror, trying to look sexy and probably looking more like an idiot, but I didn’t care. After studying my budding body I realized that from now on, if I was going to tan, I should do so in the nude. My skin looked good with a light tan but my skin was pale and white where my bikinis always were and it looked sort of silly. There had to be tanning salons that let you lay out in the nude, I figured. With a shrug I pulled on my PJ’s, not bothering to put on any underwear first, and went back downstairs.

It was a quarter to seven before I got a can of soda, an empty can I could use as an ashtray, and the DVD disc I’d successfully rented earlier. I put it inside the player and sat back into the comfy sofa when suddenly the phone rang.

It was my dad. He asked me if I’d done my chores and I said that yes, I had. He asked about the dogs, though, and I froze.

“Uhm, they were sorta restless so I let them into the yard,” I said, referring to the caged in area. I don’t know why I didn’t just lie and say they were in the kennel. It was like my dad had this power over me, forcing me to be meek even when he was miles away.

“Unsupervised?” he asked incredulously. “They’ll shit all over the place! You best put them back right now and clean up whatever mess they made tomorrow or your ass is grass, got it?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied softly. The phone clicked dead, then, and I sighed.

The movie was going to have to wait a few more minutes. My dad was right, actually. If given the choice the dogs much preferred pooping on the grass than on the dirt inside the kennel and it was a lot harder to clean up there. I went outside, confident enough of the high fences and tall trees that encircled our yard not to be embarrassed about being outside in my PJ’s, and found the dogs asleep in a pile in a corner of their fenced in area.

I opened the gate and walked carefully inside, keeping an eye out for dog poo. When I got to the giant beasts I clapped my hands and called their names until one by one they woke up. It wasn’t difficult getting them into the kennel after that. The dumb animals knew enough that they’d gotten away with fresh air long enough. After herding them back into their home I closed the sliding door and went back inside the house.

“Whew,” I said. Sitting back down on the sofa I lit the last cigarette Amy had given me and started the movie.

What I ended up seeing absolutely took my breath away. I thought the one from the night before was graphic, but “Hungry Horny Angels 4” had nothing on “Group Girls 2”. I had checked the menu before starting it and saw that it contained four scenes, each of which ran about forty minutes. And each scene starred one actress. And three men. That’s right. Three men for one woman. I’d never heard of such a thing but the idea made my breathing shallow and my body tremble. As the first scene progressed the woman, a tall skinny blond in her early twenties or so, was led into a room blindfolded by a large man dressed in slacks and shirt.

She was told to undress, which the woman did willingly, even though she was blindfolded. Her tits were about the size of mine but they looked smaller on her larger, more developed frame. They were still wonderful. She was then told to get down on her knees. At this point the camera zoomed in on her face, her blindfold was removed, and she gasped happily. The camera zoomed back slowly to reveal she was surrounded by three hard, naked cocks.

She sucked each cock in turn as the men both encouraged and insulted her. Some would grab her face and really gag the poor woman by her head and fuck her throat until her face turned purple. She went eagerly from one cock to the next, though, stroking whichever ones she wasn’t sucking whilst enduring their dirty words and incredibly ungentle treatment. I was totally naked and rubbing at my quivering cunt after only ten minutes of this harsh action, and I was practically chain smoking too. Already I’d had a couple of what I’d used to consider real orgasms– a spasm of delight that while fun was nothing in comparison with a good and hard cum. When two of the men grabbed the woman and carried her over to a small bed, I paused the movie. I knew what was coming next and I wanted to be a part of it.

I was shaking with anticipation as I produced one of the cucumbers from the fridge. It was about ten inches long and as thick as my wrist. As I studied it in my two small hands my eyes kept darting over to the pint of rum sitting on the kitchen table. I was so worked up from what I’d already seen that I was beginning to have second thoughts about whether liquor really was out of my league. It gave me a naughty thrill to imagine me, a 13-year-old girl, getting drunk while watching hard-core porn on TV. While chain smoking. And with a cucumber to fuck myself with. It was so sinful and dirty, but that’s what made it hot. With a stupid, conniving smile on my face I walked tentatively in the direction of the rum. Touching it made my pussy throb, and that settled it. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and brought it, the cucumber, and the liquor with me back to the family room.

I’d done all that naked, and that realization made me giggle. Only the night before I’d promised God I’d never be so careless again, after Amy had shown up and I had thought I was in big trouble. I only laughed and rolled my eyes now as I poured some of the rum into the glass. How much should I have? I had no idea. My dad drank practically every night, but only a couple of beers at a time. Tyler got drunk quite a bit. Being 20-years-old my dad had simply told him not to do anything stupid like getting caught driving drunk. I was half tempted to go online and see if I could find any information on how much liquor a first time drinker should have, but then I looked back at the frozen image of the skinny blond woman being thrown naked onto a bed, surrounded by three hard cocks. I spilled some more of the rum into the glass and hit play.

One of the men wasted no time in crawling on top of the woman and thrusting his cock inside her. There was no close up, but you could see it disappear into her twat just the same. The woman moaned with pleasure but another of the men told her to shut up and he put his dick in her face for good measure. She took it inside her mouth as I began to sip my drink. I couldn’t believe she could get fucked by that thing and suck on another one at the same time. It was so hot that I could barely taste the rum. I simply wasn’t paying any attention to the drink, the action on screen was drawing in all of my senses.

I was surprised when the glass was suddenly empty. I was even more surprised when one of the men started fucking the woman in the ass. I was making little whimpering sounds by now, little choking sounds of arousal. With a shaky hand I filled up my glass again, putting a lot more in it this time. Then I took a long gulp from it and scrunched up my face from the strong taste. That only distracted me for a moment, though. On screen the man was forcing his cock up into this woman’s rectum. It was so thrilling I think I almost feinted. My body was burning with desire and I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I was ready.

I placed the glass back on the table and my hand came back clutching the cucumber. It was still cool to the touch from the refrigerator. It was about to get a lot warmer. Eagerly I scooted my butt up a few inches until it was right at the edge of the sofa, then I leaned back and spread my legs wide apart. I could barely see the screen anymore but the sounds were enough, and between my bulbous tits I had a good view of where my legs came together. Gulping slowly I began to run the vegetable up and down my slit, trying to get it wet and ready but almost making myself cum in the process. After a moment or two I realized I was just trying to put it off. The point of this was supposed to be so that I could feel something large, and hard, inside my quim, and to fuck myself stupid with it. If that wasn’t what I really wanted I might as well chicken out right now.

“Ahhhhhhh!”

I screamed so loud as I pressed the monstrously sized thing inside me that I would later worry the neighbors could hear it. But I wasn’t going to stop, and I wasn’t going to slow down. There was no way I was going to chicken out, not in the state I was in. I panted and groaned as I forced the thing inside me. It was amazing to feel as my young quim slowly expanded to take in the large object. Just like that it was sliding into me but I didn’t pause to appreciate it. Not yet, I kept telling myself. It still hurt so bad that sweat was forming on my brow and I was grinding my teeth and groaning from the pain. I had to keep going. My insides were being torn apart, I thought, yet just when I thought I had to stop my cunt-channel would relax and allow it in even deeper. It was an unbelievable sensation. Though there was pain I knew that there had to be real pleasure just around the corner. It was like I could sense it. I began panting heavily as I continued to force it inside me. And then I felt my fist, which was clutching the vegetable at its base, resting against my wet pussy.

It was as deep inside of me as it could go.

I let out a long breath in relief and let go of the object. I felt bloated inside, but it was a pleasant feeling. I stared down at my tummy, trying to get a good look of it protruding from my cunt. I could just barely see its stem. After a moment of staring like this I began to feel something else, too. Little waves of pleasure began emanating from my virgin womb. From deep inside my tummy, where such sensations had never originated before, I felt the early sparks of an incredible orgasm. My breathing got deep again as I enjoyed the feeling. I began squeezing my tits with my hands even as I began to squeeze the object inside me with muscles I’d never known I had before. Suddenly I realized I’d pushed it out an inch or two, though, so I grabbed it again with my right hand and pushed it back where it belonged. Only the feeling of pushing it back in was a shock that made me cry out with pleasure.

It felt so good, to push it back in now that my pussy was used to its girth, that I had to feel it again. And that’s when I finally began fucking myself with the thing. First I’d only pull it out a couple inches and slide it back in place, but soon I was practically unsheathing it before ramming it back home. I grunted in time with the thrusts and marvelled at how my entire body would become electrified. Over and over I fucked myself with the cucumber until I was seeing stars and cumming over and over again. The giant orgasm I had anticipated had turned out to be a series of body-engulfing ones, and I was just fine with that.

The first scene was ending by the time I’d let the cucumber drop to the floor. I had slid so far down the sofa that I was holding up my body with two tired legs which I now allowed to buckle. My butt hit the carpeted floor and I giggled softly. I caught my breath for a long minute or two as I stared up at the screen. I felt like I was coming back down to earth, but it wasn’t a crash landing. It was cozy and soft and safe. I felt phenomenal.

After resting there as the woman on screen had her face glazed by masturbating men I slowly got back onto the couch. I was smiling. That made me laugh. I lit up a cigarette just as the scene ended and smoked it as the next one began. While I did I added more rum to my glass and drank that, too.

The next scene in the movie had a different woman, different men, a different setting. It basically followed the same pattern as the first but it was new, which made it exciting. Once again I couldn’t wait long after the brunette on screen started getting fucked. This time I laid down on the sofa and dangled one leg off of it to give myself access to my 13-year-old hole. To my surprise, forcing the thing inside me was just as difficult as it’d been the first time. Already my pussy had returned to its original tightness. But I had no problem enduring the pain. I knew what would come after. I took it more slowly this time when I began to fuck myself, and turning my head to the right allowed me to watch the movie at the same time.

I pretended the woman getting fucked in her ass was me, that I wasn’t alone right now, that three men were with me each waiting to fuck me six ways from Sunday. I groaned and moaned as I slammed the cucumber in and out of my cunt and suddenly realized that I was saying the words, “Slut!” and “Whore!” in time with the thrusts. I was cheering myself on and getting myself even hotter by calling myself the nasty names these men kept calling this woman. They were words I’d never used before in any context, but my vocabulary had expanded a lot the last two nights. I remembered when Amy the night before had called me a slut. The memory made me want to cum so bad that I could no longer go slowly. I picked up the pace and really began fucking myself with the cucumber until, once again, I was blinded by a series of amazing orgasms.

This time I curled up into a fetal position as I enjoyed my post orgasmic cigarette. After a while I sat back up and started sipping my drink again, too. For some reason I began to gently pet my pussy while I did this, and I even dipped one finger into the rum and slid it down my slit. If I did that next time I saw Amy would she eat me out? I wondered. I laughed at that. Amy would do to me what Amy wanted to do to me. That thought made me shudder.

I played with myself like that through the rest of the scene and when it ended I finally hit the pause button. I had to pee really bad. When I stood up, though, I almost fell over. And then when I took a step I did fall over. I began laughing stupidly. Why weren’t my legs working correctly? Had I fucked myself so hard my legs wouldn’t work anymore? I kept laughing at myself as I got back up onto my feet and that’s when I noticed the bottle of rum. It was half empty. And my glass? It only had a little bit left in it. I found this the funniest thing of all. I’d already drank nearly half a pint of rum! That had to be a lot. I’d had no idea how much I was consuming. As I stumbled off to the bathroom I couldn’t stop laughing at myself.

After peeing, which was a great relief, I went to the room and jumped into the sofa like I was a little kid. I was giggling like one, too. My face was flushed from the drink but I felt good and sexy as I laid my naked body down on the couch. I ran my hands up and down my body, sometimes giggling at my own touch, sometimes sighing pleasurably. My mind was swimming with all kinds of weird thoughts and ideas. Finally I started the movie again but I didn’t like the look of the new actress for some reason.

Too old, maybe. I skipped that scene and went to the next, then I fast-forwarded until the part where the sex began. I smoked another cigarette as the scene went on and I found myself wondering what it must be like. In real life, I mean, to be that actress. Did she love her job? Was it just a paycheck? Did she wake up every morning and think, “Oh God, I have to fuck three guys today. Oh well.”? Did she have a family? I began to obsess over these questions.

The idea entered my drunken head that maybe there was a commentary on the DVD. How cool would that be? To hear the actresses talk about the scene as it played, to hear their thoughts, to really learn what it must be like. I hit the menu button and shrieked in delight when I saw that there was a special features section. I clicked on it but was disappointed to see that the only special features were a still-picture photo gallery, and a bonus scene.

A bonus scene. I smiled at that. It listed the run time as only twenty minutes, but who cared? I clicked on it and began sipping my drink again even though I’d told myself I’d already had enough.

It turned out that the bonus scene had the women from the first and final scenes in it. Only they were alone. I smiled again. Lesbian action! That made me happy. The women were making out on a bed and memories from being with Amy the night before came rushing back. At first I was smiling and playing with myself, but then I began to frown.

All of a sudden I felt so alone. My friends hated me, I wasn’t close with my family, and Amy had come in and out of my life in a flash. I had no one. All I had was this stupid cucumber. As easily as I’d been laughing earlier I now began to cry. Thankfully I continued to watch the movie as I sobbed like a little girl, though, because it turned out that drunken horniness could come upon me as quickly as drunken sadness. Watching the two beautiful women on screen making out, playing with each other, and whispering erotic words and phrases soon had me worked up again.

I looked over at my cucumber but I wasn’t in the mood for that just now. I began to play with myself, and even tried to emulate the way Amy had so expertly slapped my pussy the night before, but that wasn’t doing it for me either. With an aggravated sigh I struggled to control the drunken and horny thoughts swirling around in my head. Surely there had to be something I wanted to do in order to get off.

Suddenly one of the women on screen began eating out the other one. The camera zoomed in on the action and I made little choking sounds at the sight of it. I could practically taste Amy’s pussy on my mouth just then. I even took a new cigarette, rubbed its butt around in my slit to get it juiced up, then lit it.

My stupid idea had been that the taste my own juices combined with the taste of the cigarette would let me relive what it had been like to kiss her after I’d gone down on her. It didn’t really work. I sighed and started fingering my slit again as I wondered for the hundredth time what it would feel like to actually have a tongue down there. It seemed so unfair that I had done it for Amy but she hadn’t done it for me. After all, it hadn’t been her first time, she’d been getting eaten out since she was younger than me, she’d said.

I sat up with a start. My eyes were locked on the screen and a drunken smile was forming on my face. The dogs! Amy had said she’d gotten eaten out her first time by her parents’ Boston Terrier. I didn’t have a little dog like that at my disposal, of course, but there were three gigantic mastiffs just out back. And they had tongues. Long tongues.

I started to giggle. Did I really want to do this? Sure, why not? the drunken and horny part of me replied. What could be the harm? It wasn’t like anyone would ever find out. And if it worked, well, Amy had said that her dog had given her orgasms many times. They must have been good if she’d done it repeatedly.

Standing up now I made my decision. I can’t say whether I would have made the same decision had I not been drunk, but I’m not going to sit here and tell you that it was all the alcohol’s doing either. The fact was the idea of getting eaten out by one of the dogs made me incredibly horny. As I would learn over the next few years, being horny made me take much bigger risks than any amount of booze ever could.

I went into the kitchen, remembering what Amy had said about lathering up her quim with jelly to get her doggy started. I wasn’t sure if my dad’s mastiffs liked jelly but I knew for a fact they loved peanut butter. I found a jar of chunky-style in the cupboard first, but the thought of putting that on my pussy wasn’t very appetizing. I searched some more and actually exclaimed, “Woo hoo!” when I found an old, dusty jar of the creamy-style kind near the back. I opened it, saw that it was half full, and then rushed to the sliding glass doors that led from the kitchen to our backyard patio.

I was naked still but it was dark outside. I looked at the clock. It was 9:30. Only 9:30! The night was still young. With a mischievous smile on my pretty face I sauntered into the yard, feeling incredibly alive and sexy to be naked outside in the warm summer night’s air. Up above the stars were shining and the moon was full, casting a pale glow on my soft nubile flesh. I almost wanted to roll around in the grass and enjoy my nakedness like that for awhile but I was able to control my drunken impulses. There was something I wanted to do a whole lot more after all.

I crept slowly into the fenced-in area of the kennel and used the light of the moon to watch for piles of dog poo. I walked carefully to the massive sliding wooden doors used to let the dogs out of the kennel itself. Built into it was a smaller, human sized door, and I used that one to gain entrance. Inside it was dark as pitch, and cold. I remembered suddenly that I’d turned the air conditioner on earlier in the day while I’d been working. The only thing I could see now was my breath, glowing from the moonlight streaming in from behind me.

Goosebumps formed on my flesh and my nipples hardened into little pebbles. I shivered. The AC unit my dad had connected to the kennel had two settings: on and off. After closing the the door behind me I groped around in the darkness for the light switch. After turning it on I went to the AC unit, which was located near where the dogs usually slept, and turned it off.

The dogs had cuddled up together, probably for warmth. Poor things. The soft glow of the lone incandescent bulb that hung above the entrance to the kennel brought only a little bit of light way back here. The dogs were enveloped in shadows, but each was raising his giant head and looking at me with sleepy, questioning eyes.

I spotted Marshall and whispered, “Here boy, come on Marshall!” The words fell heavily off my lips from the drinking and he seemed to be confused. After some more urging, though, he finally stood up walked a few paces over to me. I took him by his collar and began walking him back to the opposite end of the building.

I’d chosen Marshall because he was my favorite of the dogs, the most gentle, the most obedient. Even so he was nearly as large as the others. His head came up to above my waist, marking him at probably around twenty-nine inches tall, and he weighed close to 175lbs. I was so small next to him that a normal girl would have been afraid. I’d been raised with dogs like him always around, though. As it was I trusted him more than enough for what I was about to do.

At the far end of the kennel my dad kept a work table and a chair. There was also another light there and I turned that on. When I sat down in the chair, which had a back but no armrests, Marshall sat on his hindquarters in front of me and seemed to be studying me with curious dark eyes. He’d never seen me naked before and it gave me a giddy thrill to wonder if he knew what that meant.

When I began unscrewing the lid of the peanut butter jar his attention focused on that and he started wagging his tail. It wasn’t often he got peanut butter for a treat but he sure as heck knew what it was. I scooped a generous amount from the jar with two fingers and held them out to him. Instantly he was on all fours again and his mouth slobbered around my hand. With only a couple licks of his massive tongue the peanut butter disappeared. His tongue continued to lick my hand, though, tickling me and making me giggle.

My heart was racing now. He was ready, and it was time. Already I could feel my pussy growing wet and my own scent wafted up to me. I scooted my butt up to the very edge of the seat and leaned back, spreading my legs. Marshall was still standing in front of me, wagging his tail and panting his tongue. I just stared into those dark doggy eyes of his and smiled. My mouth had gone dry from nervousness and anticipation but my fingers were already scooping up an even bigger glob of the creamy peanut butter.

He went for my hand as soon as it left the jar but I pushed it so quickly down between my legs he only got a tiny lick. The feeling of the thick butter on my damp slit made me shiver as I smeared it all over myself. It was still so cold that I could see my breath, and Marshall’s too, as he put his head between my legs and began licking my hand. I let him continue to do this, no longer giggling from the ticklish sensation, until my hand was clean except for doggy slobber. Then I slowly pulled my hand away. Marshall’s muzzle was now right between my legs with nothing between it and my peanut butter slathered cunt.

I didn’t have any time to brace myself for what came next. Instantly the dog’s tongue shot outwards toward the new source of his favorite treat. Suddenly I felt his warm, raspy tongue licking away at my teenage slit. The feeling was indescribable. The jar of peanut butter I’d been holding fell from my hand and I let out a series of high pitched gasps that were punctuated by puffs of steamy breath. His tongue was long enough to cover my entire womanhood, from the hole of my pussy to the patch of golden fuzz at the top of my slit. With each lick he was getting all of it. The pleasure was like a shotgun blast to the chest: full force, all encompassing, and totally incapacitating.

My body was bucking itself into his face as he continued to lick me until suddenly the chair I was sitting on rolled out from under me, smashing into the work table behind it with a tremendous crash. I fell forcefully to the ground, my butt landing roughly on the hard packed dirt floor. But Marshall didn’t let up and I didn’t want him to. Instead I laid back, staring at the ceiling, the shadows dancing around us.

My legs were splayed wide and I pulled my feet back until my heels were almost touching my ass. I began thrusting my hips upward into Marshall’s giant muzzle. It occurred to me that the peanut butter had to be long gone by now and yet the dog had not slowed his licking one bit. Now he was eating my juices and he seemed to like that just as much, if not better, than the butter.

When he began to lap his tongue from my pussy hole all the way up to my patch of fuzz I finally began cumming. My hands were squeezing my tits as I felt his tongue slip a little inside me, then up my wet slit, over my sensitive clitty, all the way up to my patch of pubic hair. He did this over and over again, and it was the sensation of his rough tongue along my velvety slit that really made me mew. I was crying in delight while my dog serviced me the way I wanted, the way I needed, so fucking bad.

He was still at it as I came down from my orgasmic bliss. And I laid there, motionless now, enjoying the feeling while I caught my breath. Suddenly I wanted a cigarette really bad, though. Lazily I pushed at Marshall’s muzzle, making little sounds before finally getting out the words, “No, stop, stop boy, back…”

At first he ignored me but finally, as I pulled myself into a sitting position, he obeyed. He continued to stand there, though, lolling his tongue out of his mouth and staring at me with a wagging tail.

I had finally returned to my senses, now, and as I looked around the dirt floor I realized that it was covered with coins. Shit! I thought. My dad kept a large glass jar on his work table which he dropped spare change into whenever he had the chance. Whenever it got full he would bring it to the bank and use the cash for some new tool or whatever. When the chair had knocked into the table, though, the jar had fallen to the dirt ground. Thankfully it hadn’t broke but silver dimes, quarters, and nickels were scattered everywhere. My drunken, post-orgasmic mind was suddenly in a panic and without thinking I began gathering them up.

It was evidence. Evidence of what’d I’d done, I thought stupidly. Soon I was on all fours and crawling around the dirt floor to gather up every last coin I could find. I was getting myself filthy, I knew, but I was terrified. Drunkenly I grasped coin after coin as I scrambled around the dirt floor, not paying attention to Marshall or anything else. Both of my hands were fists filled with coins when I saw what appeared to be a quarter glimmering behind the great dog. I crawled over there and found several more. And that’s when Marshall started to lick me again.

“No, boy, no! Ahhh,” I whimpered.

His tongue found my slit, still wet from my earlier excitement and his tongue, from behind just as easily as it had from the front. The sensation made me freeze in place except to involuntarily arch my back so that my butt went upward into his muzzle. I felt his cool nose at the bud of my little anal opening, and then his tongue was there too as he lapped at me from behind.

I began to blubber nonsensically, my horniness quickly returning in full force. Just one more good cum, I thought. It wasn’t like the coins couldn’t wait, and this was a position I hadn’t thought of before for getting eaten out. It was even better, actually, because this way his tongue kept running over my anus, too. I shivered and shuddered with my hands balled up into little fists full of coins as his unrelenting tongue lapped up a new batch of juice from my pussy. It wouldn’t be long before I came, I knew.

But then he did something I had never anticipated. After one last big lick at my backside, Marshall jumped up onto me, his front paws coming down on my shoulders and crushing my upper body into the dirt. My tits smashed against the dirty floor as I struggled to push myself back up in confusion. What was he doing? Thankfully his paws moved off of my body, but now they were on the floor to either side of me. My small teenage body was completely underneath this massive dog. And I could feel him humping against me.

I’d seen the dogs humping objects before, of course, and I’d seen other smaller breeds of dogs hump at people’s legs. But this wasn’t like that. Marshall was humping at my butt and suddenly I could feel his long, unsheathed cock rubbing against my soft flesh. The dog was horny too! I hadn’t considered that possibility and I wanted nothing to do with it. I said, “Marshall, back! Back, boy!” and began crawling forward, trying to get away from the beast. But he just lumbered along with me, his doggy dick sliding against the back of my ass cheek, getting dangerously close to my slit with each humping motion he made.

Marshall started growling. My heart raced with fear at the terrible sound. None of the dogs had ever growled at me like that. His giant head was above and behind my own and the sound emanating from his throat filled my ears. His front paws inched in closer to me, right next to my dangling tits, practically inside my armpits. It was as though he was trying to hold me up, and that gave me the idea to collapse my body, to push myself flat against the earth. But when I started to do just that his growls turned into a loud bark and his teeth nipped me on the flesh between my shoulder and neck. I cried out with pain and stopped moving. I knew that the bite had been a mere warning: his jaws were capable of tearing my throat out if he wished. Staying still made him stop barking but the growl was still there, as was his long cock which continued humping my butt cheeks and thighs from behind.

Okay, I told myself, blind with terror now. He can’t go on forever, he’ll have to stop soon…

I was right, too. He stopped humping his dick against my soft skin very shortly after the warning bite. Because on one lucky hump forward he finally found what he’d been looking for.

When his cock first entered my pussy I didn’t understand at first why I should suddenly feel like I was being penetrated. My thoughts were a jumble from drink, fear, and confusion, after all. But if I didn’t know exactly what was happening at first, Marshall sure seemed to. His humping slowed and I suddenly felt his unsheathed doggy cock pushing its way inside my tight teenage pussy. I yowled with fear and humiliation as realization of what was happening came crashing down on me. He was fucking me! His cock had found my pussy from behind and now it was fucking into me and there was nothing I could do to stop it! The logical conclusion was inescapable: I was being raped by my dog!

I began sobbing pathetically from pain and humiliation as his dick humped into me, penetrating deeper inside my tight cunt with each thrust. I was blubbering, begging, and soon gasping, too. Gasping, gasping, gasping… from what? From pain? No, it was something more, something primal. I was still holding my upper body up with my trembling arms as the pain of his raping dick fully transformed into something different. This wasn’t like with the cucumber, which I had control over. The object pounding in and out of me now belonged to another living being, a creature who cared not what I thought of his actions but only wanted to fuck me, and fuck me hard. Suddenly I thought about how terrible a sin this must be and I started to moan.

It was absurd, but for some reason I suddenly remembered from school that the Bible said God had made man the masters over all beasts. Remembering that only made me moan louder. Here I was, getting raped by a dog, certainly no master and probably more like a slave. In a way it was a logical extension of everything else I did for my dad’s mastiffs. I cleaned up after them, I fed them, I’d even walked them earlier in the day. Why not fully submit myself, then, and be their bitch, too?

“That’s what a female dog is, right? A bitch?” I remembered Jody had quipped earlier that very day.

“Yessssss,” I groaned now. “A bitch, yess, oh fuck, oh FUCK!”

In a way I was losing my virginity, too, I also realized. That got me even hotter. Marshall, the gentlest of my dad’s pets, was not being gentle now as he officially deflowered me. He was ramming his cock in and out of me in long, brutal strokes that were so quick and furious that all I could do was moan and whimper and cry out from the pleasure. His dick wasn’t as thick or long as the cucumber had been but he was trying to get it all the way inside me.

Suddenly I began humping my ass back in time with his thrusts, too, wanting to help him, wanting to feel him planted all the way inside my womb. When I began to feel a massively sized knot at the base of his cock I thought he’d finally gotten all the way in, but then I realized better. The knot was a part of his cock! Each time it crashed into me pain and pleasure radiated from my cunt, and it dawned on me that he was trying to get it to go in. That seemed like a bad idea to me but I was helpless. With a now feral intensity I just groaned and blubbered as I came and came again.

I guess I didn’t really think that whatever this baseball sized knot near the base of his cock was could actually get inside me, but finally, it did. The pain was excruciating and finally I collapsed my upper body into the dirt ground. My fists unclenched and spilled coins fell all across the dirt. Marshall didn’t seem to mind this new position now, so long as my butt stayed up in the air. He had locked himself to me after all. Even he couldn’t pull the knot out from my body. So I’d gotten my wish: he was all the way inside me. All I could do was pant from exertion in response.

He could no longer slide his cock in and out of me very far but that didn’t stop him from humping at an incredible speed. His actions jerked my body forward and back along the dirt floor, dragging my tits across it. Soon this stimulus had me moaning again. I even helped it, pushing back once more in time with his thrusts as his cock stayed planted inside me. I even began to squeeze my cunt muscles around his dick which Marshall seemed to enjoy. The feeling of dragging my tits along the rough dirty ground was making me approach another orgasm just as I felt my womb fill up with some kind of thin, hot liquid.

It was his cum, his sperm, his canine semen, and it was gushing into me and filling me up. The thought was so incredibly nasty and perverted that I cried out with another incredible orgasm.

After he had finished cumming I could feel his cock softening but the ball at the base of his dick was still very large. He was trying to back up, to force it out of me, but I managed to crawl back with him. It was just too painful. “Shh, no,” I murmured softly. I could feel the ball shrinking but it was doing so very slowly. Thankfully Marshall seemed to understand and he stopped trying to move away. I sighed with relief. And then I saw the other sets of paws around us.

I don’t know how long Patton and MacArthur had been watching Marshall rape me but I knew each wanted their own turn. I could see their long doggy dicks hanging from between their hind legs, already hard and unsheathed. In the small part of my brain that was still functioning normally I figured that there was a good chance I could spring to my feet as soon as Marshall was out of me, if I could gather up the requisite strength. But the vast majority of my brain was not functioning normally.

It had reverted to a carnal, animal-like state. It was somehow empowering and erotic to be in this frame of mind and I embraced it. It controlled my actions and I didn’t resist. All I wanted was to service these dogs, to be their bitch, to be what they clearly wanted me to be. It felt right, somehow. And so when Marshall’s knot had finally decreased enough so that his dick slipped out from my body I made no attempt to get away.

It was MacArthur, my dad’s youngest dog, who mounted me next. I pushed myself back up as he did so that I was on all fours again. My hair was a terrible mess around my head, having mostly come undone from the scrunchy I’d had it held back in most of the day. Still, I could see through my strands of long blond hair well enough to tell that Mac was having a difficult time figuring out where to place his cock. Like Marshall before him he was humping against me, but he was way off target.

Swallowing slowly I reached back with my left hand, barely able to hold myself up now with just the right, and groped for his thing. When I touched it he began to growl at first. But I made guttural little soothing sounds as I gently handled his member and he seemed to relax. For my part, the significance of holding a male penis for the first time was not lost on me. It sent ripples of pleasure through my confused and charged up body. I looked back down at the earth now, struggling to hold myself up with just the one arm, and guided his cock toward the entrance of my pussy. When it got there he yowled upon making contact with my wetness and warmth. An instant later he was inside me.

Not enough time had gone by for my pussy to revert to it’s usually incredible tightness, but that was a good thing. It made MacArthur’s fucking pure pleasure with none of the initial pain. Only when the knot at the base of his cock began slamming into me did I cry out with hurt. Like Marshall, though, Mac didn’t seem to notice or care about any pain he was giving me. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way, either. I grunted and moaned as the large ball kept slamming into me until finally it popped inside my quim, making me feel bloated and full.

Again I took this as a sign that I could collapse my upper body to the dirt ground, and so I did. Mac only barely humped against me now that he was locked to me but it was enough to make me cum. He did, too, after a few minutes. And thankfully his knot deflated a lot more quickly than Marshall’s had.

Patton, the largest and oldest of my dad’s dogs, wanted his turn next. But I was spent. I had no energy. As he got behind me I began to lower my butt to the dirt ground, hoping for even a second or two of relaxation before giving him his turn. Patton would have none of it, though. He growled loudly, angrily, and barked a threat that my feral mind understood as a command to get back on all fours. With a jolt I obeyed him, but I was whimpering and blubbering too, hoping somehow that he would understand my need to rest. He didn’t.

He got into the same position the others had, his front legs locked against my upper body just behind my arm pits, and began humping angrily against me. I had no strength left to reach behind and help guide him in but as his growling intensified I found myself trying to line up my pussy for his cock by moving my butt around instead. Finally I felt it slam into me. With just one thrust he jammed his dick halfway up my sopping cunt tube, full of my juices and doggy sperm. At least I’d thought it was halfway given the length of Patton’s predecessors. I was wrong.

He howled in triumph as he began hammering into me and I soon learned that he had at least two inches in length on his friends. I growled savagely, not recognizing the sound of my own voice. I found myself grunting out the word, “Bitch!” and sometimes adding, “Fuck me, fuck meeee!” as Patton spiked me over and over again. When his hard knot began smashing into my cunt I realized that it, too, was bigger than the others. He was much more savage, too, in how he slammed it against me. Now all I could do was yowl in pain. My pussy had already been bruised up from Marshall and MacArthur doing this so the pain was even greater.

There was nothing human left in my voice, nothing at all, not even the shrieking of a little girl. The sound I made melded with his howling and made me feel like I was nothing more than an animal and, despite the pain, I found my body reacting to his brutal fucking as though it was the best thing it had ever felt. And that’s all I was, now: a slave to my body and its primal desires, a slave to my wanton sexual needs, an animal bitch dog in heat servicing her natural masters. If you had asked me my name at that moment I don’t think I would have even known the answer.

Eventually his rock hard knot crushed its way inside me just like the others had and I came, hard, as I fell into the dirt. But Patton, unlike the others, didn’t seem to like me in that position. He began to bark and growl. The only thing that silenced the threatening tone in his voice was pushing myself back up again. He wanted me on all fours, I’d stay on all fours. It’s what a good bitch would do.

With my body locked to his know all either of us could do was wait, and moan, and sometimes growl. He rutted me some, sure, but like the others he instinctively knew that I was now his and he had no interest in trying to pull out the knot that tied us together. After some time, and another more mundane orgasm (if you could call any of what was happening mundane), Patton soon unloaded his puppy-making liquid into my womb. I gasped one last time and then just panted, the feeling of his seed so deep inside me making me feel light headed. A moment later, though, all I knew was pain.

Patton was trying desperately to pull his knot out from me now but it had not deflated one bit. I shrieked and tried scrambling back as I had with Marshall, but this just seemed to make Patton angry. He barked and gnashed his teeth while a low, intimidating growl emanated from his soul. I wanted to obey, I really did, but the thought of him pulling out while his knot remained the size of a baseball was terrifying! I could just imagine my pussy being turned inside out as a result. I acted on reflex, my still carnal mind desperate to protect itself. I continued backing up with him and then found myself growling, too.

It was the sound of an animal, and it came from the back of my throat, a sound that would normally have scared even me. I would never have imagined before that I was capable of making such a purely threatening sound, but there it was. And what’s more, it worked. Patton’s own growling ceased and he stopped trying to back away from me. With his knot still planted firmly inside me he suddenly seemed content to wait for it to shrink.

Five minutes passed before it finally did. For good measure I gave it another minute or so and then I crawled forward. Patton’s cock slid out from me without the slightest bit of pain. I collapsed into the dirt, then, and the feeling of being off my knees was heavenly. It seemed like I’d been on them forever. I don’t know how long I laid there like that, catching my breath in the large kennel which suddenly felt cold again, but eventually I gathered up enough strength to stand up. The dogs must have all gone back to their usual sleeping space because none were in sight. After pushing my hair out of my face I began to walk back to the house. I made the journey on wobbly, unsteady legs. Whether that was from the lingering effects of alcohol or the fucking I couldn’t be sure.

My mind was a daze as I entered the house. I went to my cigarettes first and lit one but had the presence of mind not to mess up the sofa with my dirt covered body. Instead I took the cigarettes with me up to my bedroom. Once there I turned on the lights and went in front of the mirror. I think part of me wanted some assurance that I was still a little girl after all. I smoked an entire cigarette studying what I saw.

From head to toe my lightly tanned skin was streaked with dirt. My knees and calves especially, but my pale tits, my tummy, and my pussy, too. Streaks of mud were leaking down from between my legs where the doggy sperm was dripping out of me and mixing with dirt. My hair was a wild mess, the scrunchy long gone by now. When I turned around to examine my backside I was surprised to see scratches all over it. Not deep ones, but little red lines just the same.

During the intensity of the fucking I hadn’t felt any of the dogs placing their paws there, but I could remember times when I’d felt heavier on top and this explained it. I didn’t look like a thirteen-year-old girl, I decided. I looked like a cave-woman, a jungle primate, or something equally foreign. But on my young face was a dazed, satisfied smile. Despite my appearance I thought I looked sexy as hell. So deeply did I think this, in fact, that after finishing my cigarette I rummaged around in my closet a bit and found an old Polaroid camera I’d bought at a garage sale back when I was in Elementary School. It still had three shots left. I used all of them to permanently record my appearance.

After that I went to the bathroom and started the water. I made sure it was hot. As the tub filled I stared at my reflexion some more and began playing with my tits. They were sore from the way I’d so brutally dragged them across that dirt floor and I wanted to make sure they were okay. After deciding that they were fine, if dirty, I dumped some bubble bath solution into the tub and waited until the bubbles were high and the room was filled with steam. Finally I lowered my poor, tired body into the blessedly hot water where I promptly fell asleep.

 

CHAPTER 3

I started fucking the dogs on an almost nightly basis. Or rather, I started getting fucked by the dogs on an almost nightly basis. I was never really in control, you see. Night would come and the house would settle and I would lay awake in bed imagining that I could hear them howling for me. The thought that they were demanding me to sneak out to serve them would get me so wet that I would toss and turn for hours, unable to sleep from wanton horniness. Sometimes exhaustion would eventually take hold but that was rare. More often than not I surrendered to what I perceived was their will.

It was risky, I knew. There was always a chance of getting caught. Despite that, however, I often found myself going to them. I’d open my window in the dead of night, slip out onto the roof, and then scamper down the lattice to the ground below. Sometimes, when I was feeling especially horny, I would strip naked first and sneak over to the kennel in the nude. It was exhilarating, but whether I was clothed or not when I arrived didn’t matter.

My demanding canine masters knew why I was there. I never needed peanut butter anymore. When I went to them I was always wet already, and they could smell my desire and knew that I was in heat. Sometimes they would fight to establish who got first dibs, but generally it was Ike (who had been away with my dad and brothers that first night) who mounted me first. Marshal, my dear and gentle pet who had penetrated me the first time, usually went last. Patton and MacArthur rounded out the middle spots, and that was the way it worked.

My sexually immature (and increasingly depraved) young mind would justify my actions however it could. Convincing myself that I had no choice but to do their “bidding” served the dual purpose of turning me on and establishing that none of this was my fault. I didn’t give them my body, they took it. I didn’t want to fuck them, they fucked me. The Bible was clear that man had been blessed to “reign over the fish in the sea, the birds in the sky, and all the animals”, but when I was with my dad’s dogs I actually felt like an animal.

When they fucked me it was like I was a different person, a different species, not ordained by God to dominate these beasts but a weak and wanton creature destined to do their bidding. And that creature had no idea why a thirteen-year-old Becky Sullivan would even try to resist. In fact, the creature those dogs turned me into hated Becky Sullivan, a weak-willed human girl scared of her own shadow and ashamed of what her body needed. In that kennel, with those dogs, I felt a kind of primal joy I’d never even imagined had existed before.

It wasn’t like I didn’t know how sick these nighttime sojourns were, though. In my hungover yet sexually sated mood the morning after fucking them that first time, I did some research. The Bible was very clear: “A woman must not offer herself to a male animal to have intercourse with it; this is a perverse act.” (Leviticus 18:23). And this came from the Bible, the holy tomb that had been my education, my schooling, my everything since I was old enough to read! And it told me I was “perverse” for fucking the dogs.

This fact meant something to me, believe it or not. It made me cry some nights, and have nightmares of roasting in Hell for my terrible sinning. But it couldn’t stop me. Nothing could. Because when I got on my knees for those dogs I became an animal, and I liked being an animal. The orgasms they gave me were quick and sure and perfect in a way that really can’t be described. Sins be damned, I’d confess them on my deathbed. I certainly wouldn’t confess them now. My weekly confessions to Father DeGrazia became less and less sincere as time passed along.

My fear of eternal damnation for what I was doing could only be rivaled by my fear of what might happen if my dad or brothers ever found out. Thankfully my dad had built the kennel for the specific purpose of quieting the dogs’ yowling and barks. My cries and moans as his pets pummeled me were nothing in comparison to their level of noise, so I could remain fairly confident that no one could hear me with them. Even so I was afraid. Constantly afraid. Every night, after Marshal came inside me, I shook from head to toe as I crept back toward the house.

What if Tyler or Ron or Jason had woken up for a late-night pee and had checked in on me? What if my dad had? Or what if I’d been wrong when I’d left, and one of them had still been awake and had seen me sneaking out? I thanked God every night when I returned safely to my bed without incident. With doggy-sperm filling my womb I would swear to myself, and to Him, that I wouldn’t be so reckless anymore. But I knew I was thanking a God who I clearly had no respect for. I mean, I was breaking one of his earliest laws! Those words from Leviticus haunted me: “… a woman must not offer herself to a male animal to have intercourse with it, this is a perverse act.” They made me cry. But then I would sleep a bit, go to school, and the cycle would start over again the next night.

Speaking of school, my year as an 8th grader at St. Mary the Immaculate had started with little fanfare. Although I was now in the top class of the private middle school I had nothing to show for it. As I’d feared that incredible weekend of my 13th birthday, Melissa had fallen into Jody’s bitchy little clique, leaving me with no friends. Though the quiet girl would sometimes still talk to me if Jody wasn’t around, I had absolutely no use for her if she wasn’t willing to be my friend full time. Nor did I have any interest in making other friends.

All I wanted to do every day was go home, run upstairs to my bedroom, and masturbate myself stupid whilst reading the porno magazines I’d started purchasing at the Silver Star Liquor store. A good climax before fixing dinner for my dad and brothers always seemed justified. But how could I have a good climax if I hung out with girls my age? Most of the girls at St. Mary’s were either boring as hell (which happened to be the image I cultivated for myself), or bitchy as hell. I lost interest in them. Friends became an afterthought and my new porno magazines, along with my dogs, became the priorities in my life.

The porno mags that had stories in them were my favorite. Pictures were great for when I was so close to orgasm that I needed to concentrate on my pussy but the stories really got me in the mood. I found that the stories served as an amplifier to my normal state of sexual arousal and I loved the feeling they gave me. I especially liked the ones written from the female point of view, too. Some of the things these women wrote about just shocked me to the core. And that got me hot. I quickly learned that the more something shocked me, the more intrigued I became by it. Crazy as it sounds I had turned into a just barely 13-year-old who considered straight-up lesbian sex “vanilla”. Throw in some serious fisting, on the other hand? Well, I’d read that story over and over again.

The guys at the Silver Star knew me well by now as I was up to smoking about a pack every other day. That was definitely my second biggest addiction: nicotine. This was another risky behavior I’d adopted. If my dad found out about that, I knew full well, he’d kill me. But it was so much fun! And there was a bus stop not far from the store so I could stop by there basically every day after school. Walking home from there gave me ample time to smoke, gave me an opportunity to soak in the stares of passersby, and allowed me to avoid getting off the bus with Jody and her minions at our neighborhood stop. It was a totally win-win situation.

Whenever I entered the Silver Star I’d wave to whoever was working with a smile on my face, then shudder delightfully as I felt their eyes glue onto my body. Except for on weekends I was always wearing my school uniform and the stares I got from wearing it always made me feel good. I no longer thought of that uniform as drab and boring. Sure, the colors were all grays and black and white, but I had noticed that since my body had developed over the summer I got a lot of appreciative stares while sauntering around in it. The pleated gray skirt along with the white shirt and matching knee-high socks seemed to really turn men on.

I guess the innocent nature of a little girl’s school uniform, contrasted by my developing curves and perky little breasts, made me look sexy in a forbidden sort of way. The more I noticed men liking it the more I liked wearing it, too. The only problem was having to unbutton the darn shirt so that I could flash my tits for the men at the Star. It made the process take longer, but that wasn’t too big a deal. I no longer got nervous baring my chest for these strangers and, in fact, it gave me a wonderful thrill to engage in such exhibitionism. And since I’d taken to buying the bras that clasp in the front, showing my naked tits was actually easier in that sense. Front clasping bras, I learned, made life a lot easier in a myriad of ways.

One day after leaving the Silver Star I lit up a cigarette and found myself staring across the street at Blue Moon Video. I hadn’t been in there since the Saturday I’d first fucked the dogs and I was trying to decide if I should finally return the movie I had rented that wonderful night. The owner of the store had said I could return it “in my own due time” but it was going on two months now. November was fast approaching and the leaves had already fallen from the trees.

It made me feel guilty that I’d held onto the movie for so long. I guess I’d been holding onto it in the hope that I’d get another chance to watch it, but in my heart of hearts I knew those chances were slim. When my dad wasn’t around at least one of my brothers always was. Without a TV in my own room I had no privacy. I pondered for a moment if I should finally give it back, my heart aching at the thought of losing such a filthy and exciting possession. With a sigh I finally flicked my cigarette away and headed across the street to the video store. It was time to let go of “Group Girls 2”.

I kept the movie hidden in my backpack since I knew it was the last place my dad or brothers would ever invade my privacy. My bedroom was fair game, as was my purse, and I’d found the top drawer of my bureau (where I kept my underwear) disheveled on several occasions over the last six weeks or so. But no one had any interest in spying on what my latest homework assignments were.

I kept my porn magazines in the bag too but there was another reason for that. Having porn mags available whenever I needed them was a convenience. Sometimes at school I would get really hot and bothered thinking of the dogs, or of Amy, or of whatever. When I got so worked up from these perverted thoughts that I couldn’t concentrate on class anymore, well, I simply had to cum. I couldn’t resist it. But masturbating in a Catholic school’s girls bathroom isn’t as easy as you might think.

I would sit there in a stall, fingering myself, and then hear another girl in the bathroom start talking about God. Or family. Or tests. Such mundane things always crushed my libido and made it hard for me to climax. Having a good porno magazine on hand to rub-off to always set me straight. Besides, it was kinda hot to masturbate to a hard-core porn magazine whilst listening to other girls my age (or younger) gossip about whatever from the other side of my stall.

As I stared at the video store I was glad I’d kept that DVD hidden in amongst my porn mags and school textbooks. It really was time to return it, I realized, and the parking lot in front of Blue Moon Video was empty.

I went inside the store and smiled when I saw the owner walking down one of the aisles toward the front. When he saw me waving happily to him he smiled, too, and came waddling over in that slow, precise way he had. He didn’t look any different than he had the last time I had seen him, though I suppose he had lost some weight. He still had a good sized spare tire around his midsection, don’t get me wrong, but his button-up shirt seemed to be hanging a bit more loosely on his pear-shaped frame. He also looked a little pale, as though he’d been sick or something, but he didn’t sound under the weather at all when he greeted me.

“Becky, ahh, Becky Sullivan!” his voice boomed.

“Heya!” I said, fluttering my lashes and smiling. “What’s up?”

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged as he drank in my visage with a head-to-toe stare. He walked around to the other side of the counter and leaned heavily against it and sighed. “Internet rentals are killing me, ahh, you know how it is. How are things? Did you, ahh, have school today or are you just dressing up special for me, now?”

I giggled. I had become much more comfortable playing the flirt over the last couple of months, though I hadn’t had a ton of practice. I didn’t often get the opportunity to speak with members of the opposite sex, except for at home of course, but there I was a meek and obedient daughter and sister and never a flirty teen.

But I guess that with the dogs to satisfy me sexually, the long walks home from Silver Star to soak in leering eyes, and all the porn I’d been reading had caused me to become more comfortable with my sexuality. I think that if a cute boy had walked up to me and struck up a conversation I would have been awkward and insecure, but flirting with people who I knew I would never have sex with came easy now. People like the guys at the Silver Star, for instance, or this man who owned the video store whose name I still didn’t know.

After blushing gracefully at the man’s remark I slipped my backpack off and put it on the counter. “I have that movie you let me rent,” I said quietly with a grin. “I’m really sorry I kept it so long!”

“Nonsense!” he bellowed. “I told you to, ahh, keep it, as long as you liked. Did you like it?”

I gave him a mischievous smile. The day after my first night with the dogs I had watched the movie again and had decided that the second scene was my favorite. It was the only scene in which the woman, a tall and skinny brunette, actually appeared to be in more pain than pleasure when she was getting reamed in either hole by the three men. That scene more than any of the others had made me lament the fact that my dad and brothers had returned home the next day. It was the scene that had made me so reluctant to return the movie since I’d been dying to see it again. Lowering my voice I said, “Act Two was the coolest thing I ever saw!”

“Ahh, the brunette,” he replied in his normal speaking voice. “When the big fella is fucking her in the ass it looks like she’s going to start crying, don’t it?”

My smiling face quickly turned into a worried one. I began scanning around the video-store, feeling nervous. When I’d spoken with him before about the movie he’d “accidentally” rented to me we’d talked in hushed tones and were careful not to mention anything specific about what kind of movies we were talking about. It was a game I’d been surprisingly good at, a game I’d enjoyed playing. But he wasn’t playing it now.

He saw the concern on my face and made a dismissive gesture with his meaty hand. “Don’t worry, no one else is, ahh, here,” he said. “I had to let go of, ahh, Roger a few weeks ago.”

“What about customers?” I asked, more worried about them than the store employee I’d only ever seen once.

“Don’t I wish,” he chuckled. “Don’t, ahh, worry about it, we’re all alone.” He grinned and winked at me. “So, you come for another, ahh, movie? I have one I bet would knock those pretty socks of yours right off.”

“N-no,” I said slowly. I wasn’t feeling very flirtatious anymore. Hearing him talk about the movie like that had done more than ruined our little game. It was awkward, suddenly, to know he knew what I’d watched, and what had been my favorite part, without the euphemisms to hide behind.

“Why not?” he asked. “Free of charge if that’s your, ahh, worry.”

“No, it’s not that,” I said, chewing on my lower lip now. “It’s just, I don’t have any place to watch ’em. I was alone that weekend but I never am now and I don’t have my own TV and…”

“Hah!” he interrupted me, “you must be the only, ahh, teenager in America without a TV in their room!” I smiled nervously and nodded. Then he leaned in a bit closer and said in a conspiratorial voice, “Tell ya what, though. I’ve got a, ahh, TV all set up in back. You can use it whenever you want.”

My heart began to flutter. “Really?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said. “In fact I have something, ahh, special back there right now. You wanna go see?”

I frowned. It was a very tempting offer. I hadn’t seen a porn movie since that Sunday night before my dad returned home with my brothers. The porn magazines were great with their pictures and stories but actually being able to see live-action sex was definitely what I preferred. But even so my brain was telling me this was a bad idea and that I should just leave. My pussy, though, was throbbing with desire and he plainly saw the temptation in my large blue eyes.

“Come on,” he said reassuringly, as though it was no big deal for a 13-year-old girl to go into the back room of a video store and watch hard core pornography with a 40-something man. “I can lock up for a few minutes to get you, ahh, situated. Then you can stay as long as you like. It’s employees only back there so, ahh, no one will bother you.”

No! No! No! the logical part of my brain was screaming, but his offer was irresistible to my hormone-driven mind. What could be the harm? it said. He brings you back there, shows you how to use the remote control, and then you can watch some good porn in privacy. It’ll be great!

My pussy agreed with that logic, and that was that. After a momentary pause I found myself bobbing my head up and down, my golden hair bouncing around my head as I shyly said, “Well, okay…”

It didn’t take him long to lock the front door and flip over the “Be Right Back” sign on the door, and soon I was walking side by side with him down the aisle to the back of the store. He was acting very casual, chatting about innocuous things like the weather and stopping a couple times to adjust a DVD on a shelf or something. I just gripped my backpack, which was slung over one shoulder, and smiled and nodded nervously as he talked. I was afraid that if I heard my own voice again I’d lose my nerve or something and I wanted so desperately for this to work out.

It would mean I’d have a place to watch porn movies again, and so what if some creepy old pervert knew I was masturbating in the back of his store? It was a little embarrassing but sort of hot, too. I mean, if exposing me to hard-core pornography was what got him off how did that possibly affect me? He got his jollies, I got my porn, and we’d both be happy. The arrangement seemed so simple and awesome that I was actually counting myself lucky.

He unlocked the “Employees Only” door with a key and then walked in ahead of me. Taking a little breath, I followed. The room was dimly lit, a lone fluorescent light fixture above flickering eerily as though it was going to burn out in any minute. Around the perimeter of the room were wire shelving units, every shelf of which was packed tight with obsolete VHS tapes, cardboard boxes, and old rolled-up movie posters.

Directly in front of me was a long folding table piled high with empty DVD cases and messy stacks of paperwork. On the other side of the table was an old ratty recliner which sat in front of the promised television set. It wasn’t nearly as nice a set as the one we had at home but it was a good size and anyway, beggars can’t be choosers. It wouldn’t be like at home, obviously, but it was still going to be great!

Yes, great. It was going to be awesome. But why was I so nervous?

I let my heavy backpack slump off my shoulder to the floor and then followed him around the long table to where the TV was. He was apologizing for the light, saying he kept meaning to replace that fluorescent tube, but did I know how much of a pain in the ass it was to replace those things? I just shrugged and nodded. I was standing next to the old, patched-up recliner and watching as he rummaged around inside a box next to the television set.

He was mumbling, “Let’s see, let’s see,” and then finally said, “Ahh! Here it is.” He put a disc into the DVD player and then stood up and turned to face me.

The flickering greenish light made his pale skin look a little creepy but he was all smiles as he said, “Alright, now I think you’re going to, ahh, really like this.”

He sat down heavily in the recliner, which seemed way too small for him, and turned the television set on with a remote. Isn’t that supposed to be my seat? the logical part of my mind wondered. But the horny part of my brain decided, He’s fat and old and needs to rest while he shows you the remote. Just relax!

After fumbling with the remote for a moment he grinned at me. “Now watch this,” he said in a mirthful tone of voice.

No DVD movie menu splashed across the screen, nor did any FBI copyright warnings or anything like that. When he hit play on the remote there was just a brief pause before the screen was filled with the image of a bed in what appeared to be a cheap motel room. The production quality wasn’t nearly as good as the other two porn movies I’d seen. There were no credits, and no soundtrack, or anything like that. What there was, though, was an image of a girl not much older than me laying back on the bed wearing nothing but a grown man’s t-shirt. She was reading what appeared to be a porno magazine with an indifferent expression on her young face.

My heart caught in my throat at the sight of her. She couldn’t be much older than fourteen, I figured, or fifteen at the absolute oldest. I could feel my pulse quicken as I realized what kind of movie this was. Not just a porn movie, but a porn movie starring a girl! Not a full grown woman but a girl like me. I’d never heard of such a thing. Instinctively I knew it was wrong, and probably illegal, but I felt my nipples harden anyway.

I must have made some kind of sound because the video store owner looked up at me from his sitting position and smiled.

“Wait, ahh, it gets better.”

And it did. The girl, who was very pretty with long dark hair and incredible eyes, suddenly closed the magazine and placed it on a nightstand next to her. Then she sat up in the bed and pulled off her top without any fanfare. Her breasts were larger than mine, a good c-cup in size I thought, and her body was clearly more developed, too. Her tits were capped with big brown nipples and her long slender legs were nearing the end of their maturation. I decided then that she had to be at least fifteen but she could have just been a well developed fourteen-year-old. It was hard to pin-point an exact age but her incredible youth was obvious, especially in her eyes.

The expression in them was blank but there was a youthful innocence there, too, that can’t be faked by adults. She leaned back into her pillows again and spread her legs apart, bringing her feet back so that her pussy was fully exposed. For the first time the camera moved, zooming in slowly to her vagina as her slender fingers began to play with herself down there. Her pussy was hairless and sort of puffy and I found myself squeezing my legs together involuntarily. The girl’s fingers were gently pulling aside the lips of her young cunt and holding it open for the inspection of the camera.

I didn’t even notice that the video store owner had gently put his left arm around my hip. Even when his hand began to wander, going down the front of my left thigh over my skirt, it was only the vaguest sensation way off in the distance. I was too enraptured with the image of a girl not much older than me showing off her wares in front of a camera to pay attention to anything else. And when the camera zoomed back again so that the entire bed was once more in view I felt my legs begin to shake. Because the man who had been operating the camera, which was evidently on a tripod, suddenly stepped into the frame.

He was a large man with a hairy chest wearing absolutely nothing except for what looked like an old fashioned executioner’s hood over his head. As the girl continued to hold open her puffy labia she looked at him with an expressionless face. He slowly walked over to the side of the bed, sat down on it, and said one word: “Now.” The girl knew what he meant. She crawled around over to him and obediently draped her thin body over his lap. Loud slapping sounds were heard next as he began to spank her. For the first time the girl made a sound, gasping in pain soon after the man started to punish her pale young behind.

My legs went weak as the hooded man brutally spanked the girl’s ass. Memories of my father spanking me not that long ago made me whimper audibly as I struggled to remain standing. I felt weak, the eroticism of what I was seeing sapping me of all my strength. When the video store owner began pulling me over to him I offered no resistance. He pulled me down into his lap, his thick arm still around my waist as his right hand now began to gently, just barely, touch my right thigh.

I could feel something hard underneath my little butt and in the recesses of my brain I knew that the video store owner had a hard on. I didn’t care. I didn’t care that I was sitting on this ugly man’s lap, that I was sitting on his covered erection, that his right hand was sliding up and down my thigh and pulling my skirt up higher with every motion. All I could do was breathe heavily as I watched the girl on the video cry in front of me, her long dark hair obstructing her face but her choking sobs clearly audible.

It was the first time I’d ever seen an amateur video. It was the first time I’d ever seen kiddie porn. And it had me in such a trance that the fact I was being groped by the strange and ugly video store owner didn’t even register. At first.

The hooded man began to turn the girl around in his lap after spanking her for awhile. He placed the soft, whimpering girl on her knees between his hairy legs and commanded her to suck him off. Just as she began to obey the video store owner finally placed his meaty hand directly on the skin of my thigh. That’s when I realized he’d tugged my pleated skirt up all the way to my waist.

I finally looked down and it looked almost as though I was wearing nothing but my panties, my smooth, soft legs pressed together and completely bare down to my knee-high socks. Reality began to settle in at that moment. The owner’s hand was caressing my thigh, moving slowly toward my panties covered mound. Underneath my butt I could feel the outline of his erection throbbing and his left hand suddenly placed itself over my left breast.

“See?” he rasped quietly in my ear, “I knew you’d, ahh, like this…”

He had no intention of leaving me alone to enjoy the porno movie by myself, I realized just then. My body finally tensed up at the sensation of his hands on me. It should have been obvious from the start but I’d naively chosen to trust him. My stupid young brain hadn’t been able to overrule my horny young cunt and now this gross, ugly man was touching me. Molesting me! And what he wanted became glaringly obvious.

The movie forgotten, I debated what I should do. Allow him to keep groping me like this? That seemed safe in a way but I now knew exactly where that would lead. And despite what I had been doing with the dogs I still considered myself a virgin, safe from God’s judgement on that count at least. As crazy as it sounds I considered sex with a man more taboo and wicked than sex with Marshall, Patton, and the rest of my dad’s mastiffs.

It had been ingrained in me at school and at church: when a man entered a woman they became one flesh in the eyes of God, joined together for all time as man and wife. I mean, I had to look up the sin of bestiality myself, but the sin of sex before marriage had been ingrained in my for years! And the thought of being this fat ugly man’s wife scared me more than even his groping hands did at that moment, and I took action accordingly.

I jumped up from his lap, nearly falling over as I broke free from his gentle hold.

“Stop, stop!” I cried. “Let me go!”

I was both confused and scared at this point. I didn’t understand how had I gotten into such an intimate position with this man without even noticing. I couldn’t even remember sitting down in his lap. I took some nervous steps backward away from him as I glanced around the room in a panic, not sure what to do, not even sure what was going on anymore.

The video store owner glared at me, then, and there was nothing jovial or casual about the expression on his face. The look he was giving me turned my fear into genuine terror. As the fluorescent light flickered above he gave me a cold, evil looking stare as slurping sounds from the video filled the room around us. The only other sound I could hear at that moment was the pounding of my own heart and his heavy breathing.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He said in a cold, menacing voice. “Get back over here. Now!”

I was shaking from my head to my toes and was on the verge of tears. For whatever reason, though, his commanding voice almost made me take a step forward. I stopped myself, though, and shrieked, “NO!”

And then I ran. He grabbed at me as I sprang forward but I was too quick. I nearly stumbled as I scampered around the long folding table, my dress shoes clacking against the concrete floor as I moved with all the speed I could muster. The door wasn’t far but in my panicked state it seemed a world away.

Behind me I could hear the man cursing and moving toward me as the slurping sounds from the video continued. I seemed to be moving in slow motion as step after step brought me closer to freedom. My tiny hands were outstretched, grasping for the doorknob well before they touched it. And when they did I had this brief surge of hope in my chest. All I had to do was turn it and the door would open up into the safety of the well lit store and there was no way he could do anything to me out there, I thought. I was almost free.

But the doorknob wouldn’t turn.

My body slammed into the door at full speed. I shrieked in fear and disbelief: why wouldn’t the doorknob turn?! I tried again and again but it wouldn’t budge. I began to cry, saying, “Oh, God, please, let me go!” as I continued to struggle with the doorknob. In my heart I already knew I was trapped.

The door was locked tight. But even as the the video store owner lumbered up behind me I continued to fight against the obvious. I sobbed and begged and confusedly fought with the doorknob as the man finally reached me. With strong hands he grabbed me by my shoulders and spun me around to face him. He looked like the Devil himself at that moment, his face contorted into an evil smile as he slammed my feeble body back against the door. My head smacked against it so hard I saw stars.

“Where the FUCK do you think you’re going?” he laughed.

I blubbered incoherently and brought up my hands as if to push him away but that was impossible. He gripped my arms with his strong hands and pulled me close to him so that my body crushed against his gut. The feeling of his body against mine scared me even more. He continued laughing for a minute and then he shook me again. I was as light as a feather compared to his surprising strength and he nearly lifted me off of the ground as he shook me. Everything was a blur at this point but as I sobbed uncontrollably I could hear his laughter.

He hissed in my ear, “There’s nothing for you out there, Becky. A girl like you should, ahh, know everything you need is right in this room.”

My sobs now mixed with little begging sounds from my mouth as he stepped backward, carrying me with him and ignoring my pleas. I kicked my legs but my feet just flailed helplessly in the air. He chuckled at how weak and defenseless I was. At least I thought that was what he was laughing at. It was hard to make sense of anything at that point, especially his coarse laughter. How could he find any humor in a situation like this?

“You’re a, ahh, rare thing,” he chuckled as he turned around, swinging my body in the air as he did. “A dirty little slut but somehow, ahh, innocent, too.”

With that he pushed his ugly, sneering face against mine and our lips crushed together. It wasn’t intimate or erotic like my first kiss had been. He wasn’t gently forceful like Amy. He was simply forceful. I squirmed my head away from his, disgusted by the taste of his sweaty lips, but that only made him laugh louder. Then he turned me around and pushed me into the long folding table.

He pulled my arms behind my back and suddenly I felt my wrists pressed together, one of his giant hands grabbing them and locking around them like a fleshy handcuff. He now had one hand free and he used it to push away the giant stacks of empty DVD cases. As he bent me over the table I could hear them crashing to the ground around me.

“Relax,” he hissed in my ear.

He’d pushed my face against the table top and my hair was a mess around my head as my tits flattened beneath me. My sobbing continued as he ran his hand from the top of my head to the back of my neck. It continued to slide down my back, over my arms which were pinned there, around my side, then down farther still until it reached the right side of my hip.

It was at that exact spot where I had been bent over and the edge of the table was digging painfully into my waist as he stood dangerously close behind me. When his hand began to tug my skirt up over my ass it wasn’t a surprise. I knew, even in my panicked and upset state, why he had me in the position I was in. I whimpered pathetically when his sweaty hand began to rub at my backside, right over each soft asscheeks, with only my panties to protect my butt from his molesting touch.

“Anyone ever touch you, ahh, here before?” he asked, clearly enjoying himself. “You ever been a, ahh, bad girl? Ever had Daddy spank you here? Ever let a boy bend you over like this and, ahh, play with your pretty little butt?”

When the only response I gave were my unrelenting sobs he leaned his weight onto the arm that was holding me down, crushing my small body painfully against the table. In a less playful tone of voice he asked again, “Have you?”

“N-no!” I cried. The pain was intense and it was hard to breathe. When he let up a bit I sucked in a lungful of air then went back to sobbing as he continued to run his hand around my backside. He was tracing the outline of my underwear, letting one beefy finger slide along under the elastic and following it to where my legs met.

“So no, ahh, lucky boys have had you like this?” he asked, obviously pleased. “But I bet your daddy has spanked this little butt. Hasn’t he?” After I managed to choke out my reply he continued. “I thought so. Daddy’s probably trained you, ahh, his whole life. Bet you enjoyed it, too, draped over his lap, getting spanked for being a bad girl? Hah! But guess what, little one? I’m your daddy now. You’ll get your punishments and, ahh, pleasure, from me, from now on. Yes you will.”

And then his finger slid free from under my panties and his hand cracked down on my defenseless butt. I gasped in pain as he laughed behind me. He did it again, and again, alternating between each cheek as I writhed against the table. Truth be told my dad’s spankings had always been much harsher. At least this guy wasn’t telling me he wished I’d never been born. But the stinging of his hand was still intense, causing me to squirm my butt and helplessly kick my legs. Only the tips of my toes were able to reach the floor before but now they just kicked back blindly into the air. My body seemed to slip forward on the table a bit, too, and when I tried to get my toes back on the floor they wouldn’t reach.

Thankfully, finally, he stopped slapping my butt and to my surprise the room was silent. The movie must have ended but more than that, the sounds of my sobbing had been replaced with heavy breathing. Quiet breaths, uncomfortable breaths, but not the fear-filled choking sobs they’d been a few moments earlier.

He seemed to notice, too. He chuckled softly to himself as he unceremoniously pulled down my panties. He peeled them down over my butt and then yanked on them forcefully so they would come down the front side, too. Every time his hand made contact on my bare behind I shuddered. Lightly along the crack, then his knuckles brushing between my legs, then his hand on the inside of my thigh. I felt lost. Wasn’t I supposed to be afraid? Well, I was. Desperately afraid.

I don’t think I’d ever known such fear. But it was like I had broken through that into a sort of calm that replaced the panic from before. I knew what was going on and I was pretty sure how my body would respond and I knew I had no choice. I had to obey, the way I had always obeyed when confronted with authority. It didn’t erase the fear but at least I wasn’t so panicked I could hardly breathe anymore and that made me feel better. I instinctively brought my legs together when the panties were ready to drop, and drop they did after finally clearing my butt and upper legs.

I kept my ankles pressed together with my underwear tangling with my dress shoes, and made no move to kick them away. The video store owner didn’t seem to notice. He said, “Alright, ahh, Becky. I’m going to let go of your arms now. If you so much as, ahh, try to push yourself up or make any attempt to escape I’ll hurt you. I hope you’re smart enough to understand what that means. I’m not, ahh, talking about another spanking. If I have to, ahh, punish you today, you’ll end up regretting it the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

I gulped, and nodded my head, though it was an awkward motion with the left side of my face still pressed against the table top.

“I want to, ahh, hear you say it,” he said. His voice had an edge of violence in it now, the same tone my father liked to use when reminding me to do my chores or something. “And you’ll, ahh, address me as Sir. Now do, you, understand?”

He accentuated those last three words by once again leaning his weight onto the arm that was pinning me down. I tried to suck in some air, but it was no use: he was crushing me against the table even harder than before. In desperation I tried to choke out the words, “Yes, Sir!” but they sounded like soft little squeaks in my ears. Thankfully they seemed to satisfy him. He let up on his arm and now I could breathe again.

My numb arms fell limply to either side of me when he let go of my wrists. I remained motionless as I tried to catch my breath. I could hear him unzipping his pants, now. The distinct sound of the metal teeth peeling apart as he slid down his zipper, then the leather-on-leather hiss of his belt pulling out from its loop, and finally the soft rustle of clothing as he unbuttoned. I didn’t make a sound or move a muscle. When he used one foot to softly kick my ankles apart I remained limp even as one of my feet finally slipped free from my panties. The white cotton underwear remained dangling from my right ankle, though, while he pushed my legs apart and stepped forward into me.

I felt his large gut first when it came to rest on top of my soft butt. That’s what made me start to cry again. I cried softly this time, afraid to make much sound in what had become a quiet room. When the head of his cock made contact with the entrance to my teenage hole it was he who truly broke the silence by speaking. He whispered, “See, girl? Ahh, you’re already wet for me. You were wet when I bent you over, you were wet when you were, ahh, in my lap. Now you’re wet for my cock.”

And then he entered me.

He did it slowly. At first it was just a warm sensation at the lips of my pussy, then it was more like the cucumber I’d penetrated myself with in the past. But when I felt my cunt grudgingly accept the first two inches of his penis it became its own experience entirely. This wasn’t like with the dogs, who fucked me fast with dicks I’d thought were big in size. No, this was a real man’s cock sliding into my body, now. It was attached to a man who should have known I didn’t want it. When Marshal had first penetrated me against my will I’d thought of that as rape, but in the end he was an animal. He didn’t know any better. This man, this horrible man, he knew better. He knew what he was doing, and I had no choice but to be his victim.

“Everything about you screams victim,” I could remember Amy telling me. At the time I hadn’t known what that meant. But now I did.

This was what being raped really felt like, I thought. The total lack of choice. The fear, the helplessness. Both made me cry. And there was pain too, of course. The physical pain of his cock as it stretched my pussy wide for its entrance. But that paled in comparison with the mental anguish I now felt. My sobs grew in intensity, not from my stinging, screaming cunt but from my humiliated, helpless brain. From the lack of power. From the realization that I was defenseless and could not stop him from doing this to me. I sobbed and sobbed as he slowly pushed inside my body. But I didn’t move or say a word. All I did was cry. My hot tears were like acid as they burned down my reddened face and I endured his brutal, unwanted entry into my virgin hole.

No man had ever fucked me and now this man was raping me. The Bible, so far as I knew, made no distinction between wanted or unwanted sex. My sobbing became even more pathetic when I realized that according to the Book I’d studied my whole life, we were now one, one flesh. This ugly, mean man was in me. We were now one flesh. In God’s eyes he was now my Adam, and I was his Eve.

If he had cum right away, like the dogs always did after penetrating me, I might have been able to smarten up. Maybe I would have gone to Father DeGrazia and asked him if there was an exception to the sex-rule where rape was concerned. And maybe Father DeGrazia would have told me that rape was different from consensual sex. Maybe I would have felt saved. Maybe I would have concluded that being a victim wasn’t my fault, that I wasn’t a sinner, and that I didn’t have to continue on this path my life had taken. But the video store owner did not cum right away. So I can never really know for sure about all that.

Unlike the dogs this man knew how to fuck a girl. He took his time. And his cock was big. Bigger than the dogs’, or at least thicker. That didn’t really matter, though. What mattered were the slow, deliberate strokes he gave me. In and out. In… and… out. That first, drunken night the dogs had fucked me I’d felt like each had taken forever, but I’d long since realized that wasn’t true. Generally it took more time for their knots to shrink down after cumming in me than it did for them to actually fuck me. They were quick and furious animals with their strokes into my young body.

This man, though, raping me over this cheap table? He wasn’t quick. He wasn’t furious. He was slow and deliberate. In and out he went, slowly, so slow. His fat gut rested on my ass, sure, but his hips slid his cock into and out of me with careful movements. One moment I felt empty, and then I felt full. With each slow push he raped himself into me and all I could do anymore was choke at the feeling.

He was so slow! In and out, in and out, his fat cock went. And there was no huge ball growing at the base of his cock, either. No sudden and uncomfortable pain to detract from his penetration of me. There was nothing to lock himself to me, either. Nothing to stop his strokes, nothing to keep his shaft from chaffing against my clit. The only thing that existed was the Fuck. And boy, did he know how that game was played. Slow, even, over and over and into me. Constantly surprising me. Constantly shocking me.

After probably ten minutes of this, my slender arms began to move, sending even more of the piles of empty DVD cases crashing to the ground. I stretched out my fingers to the other side of the table. I gripped at it. Because I couldn’t resist the pleasure I was feeling anymore. My sobs turned into little grunting moans of desire as he fucked himself in and out of my small body.

I tried desperately to keep my soft, choking grunts as quiet as possible, but he heard them anyway. He chuckled in response. “I could cum right now,” he breathed, never breaking the rhythm of his slow in-and-out fucking. “But I have a, ahh, mattress, in my van… I could lay you out on it… Would you like that? Want me to, ahh, lay you back on a nice mattress and fuck you like God intended?”

With a feeling of utter shame I realized that I did. Oh God, I did! Even as my mind had lamented the way he was raping me my body had begun to respond to it, and I realized now that I could cum. I could actually cum from this mean, ugly man’s rape of my small body. It was humiliating but his dick felt so fat and large in me as he so slowly pushed into and out of my tight pussy that I actually wished I could be in a different position, and not just because being bent over this table was so uncomfortable.

I wanted to lay back, have him on top of me. I wanted to feel him slam his meat deep into my womb as I wrapped my skinny legs around his back. I wanted his crushing weight on my tits, to be fucked missionary style like a husband does to impregnate his wife, to feel his sweaty lips on mine as I came and came…

I continued choking back my moans of pleasure and my sobbing returned, too. As he slowly fucked me I would whimper pathetically like a little girl, then a spark would shoot up my spine when I felt my cunt fully penetrated and I would stifle a gasp of desire, and then the sobs would come back again. I didn’t know how much longer I could put up with this. Did he know how close I was to cumming? Was he just toying with me?

I could hear him chuckling again. Then he said, “So, is that what you want? Should I go, ahh, get the mattress?”

“Yuh–yes!” I sputtered mindlessly. My face burned even redder at the sound of my tiny voice. Had I really just consented to having sex with this man? I cried even more, and he let me cry for a moment, perhaps enjoying the way I was breaking down for him. He’d already broken my body, that was clear. Now he was breaking my mind.

“Yes, ahh, what, little one?” he asked finally.

His cock was fully in me and for once he actually left it there. He kept it planted inside my cunt making me feel bloated, so joyously bloated, that I thought now I might actually cum. But I didn’t. Instead I nearly hyperventilated as I used the last of my willpower to resist answering his question. Then I gasped in pain when I felt him slap my ass, hard, more like the way my dad liked to spank me than the way he had earlier. “I, ahh, asked a question!” the video store owner demanded.

“Yes, yes!” I said, my small body now writhing helplessly. I was still gripping the far edge of the cheap table but now my legs were sort of kicking out into the air as his cock remained locked inside me. I felt charged up from head to toe, ready to climax, and wondered why he wouldn’t just finish me off.

He smacked my ass for a second time and I started to sob piteously once again. “Yes, ahh, what?” he asked, almost kindly.

I continued to cry but managed to say, in between my blubbering sobs, “Yes, I want… I want, the m-mattress!”

“Why the mattress?” he asked. His voice was so soft I could only barely hear it over my sobbing. I felt his cock throb inside me as he continued, “Becky? Why, ahh, the mattress? Why do you want it? So I can fuck you the way, ahh, God intended? Is that why?”

I gasped one last time as my willpower fully dissolved. “Y-yes! Please, please, so you c-can… so you c-can…”

“Fuck you?” he offered.

“YES!” I moaned. My body was a powder keg, ready to explode, and he had my mind, now. With brute force and threat of violence he had started raping me, conquering my body. But it was through subtle fucking and my desire to cum that he had conquered my immature mind. I cried out, “Yes, fuck me, FUCK me, please… g-get the m-mattress so you c-can… fuck ME!”

He was chuckling now. He knew he had me. Slowly he withdrew his cock from my wet young hole and said, “Well, ahh, I don’t need the mattress for that.” Suddenly he slammed his cock back into me, a brutal thrust that made me shriek with pleasure. “THIS is how God intended it, ahh, Becky.”

Now he really began to fuck me. No longer was he being slow and deliberate. He pulled out, slammed home, pulled out again. Each time I went from empty to full my threshold for pleasure seemed to multiply. I kept thinking I was going to cum, I kept moaning and screaming and crying as though I was about to cum, but each violent thrust into my body only heightened my state of arousal instead. My body went limp again as he rutted into me, over and over, and all I could do was moan and pant deliriously as he chuckled sadistically. My mind was a jumble of confused thoughts and feelings. Why couldn’t I cum? I feared for a brief, terrible moment that I had passed the point of cumming. Maybe I would always feel like this, now, charged up and unable to climax. Stupidly I began to sob once more, but they were sobs of frustration only.

And then he did it.

I don’t know how he did it, I don’t know how he knew how to do it. But on one final thrust into my tight box he angled his cock upward a little so that I could feel the swollen head of cock push along the back of vaginal tube. He did this slowly and it was like he’d found an itch deep inside my teenage body that needed to be scratched. And scratch it he did with the tip of his embedded cock. Finally, I exploded.

I whimpered and screamed through my orgasm. It was such a relief I nearly laughed, too, but my girlish giggles were overridden by my whorish screams of delight. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire as I came, and maybe that was why I was so aware of his throbbing cock and his vice-like grip on my hips as he began to shoot his load into me.

I’d started cumming before him and I was only finishing that magnificent orgasm after he had emptied his load of sperm into my womb. It felt hot and gooey inside me, much more substantive than what the dogs ever gave me. When my orgasm finally subsided I realized the room had grown eerily silent again. Even my panting had quieted and his chuckling had ceased. He pulled out of me, then, just as slowly as ever. My dazed mind considered it a wonder to suddenly be empty except for his gooey seed. And he wasn’t touching me anymore, either. I could hear him walking away. Where was he going? I remained motionless, sprawled across the cheap table with my naked ass in the air and my legs dangling off the edge. When I felt his hand on my head, gently brushing away my hair from my face, I felt like I’d just been woken up from a dream.

“I’ll give you, ahh, a few minutes to recover,” he whispered. He had come around to the other side of the table and was now leaning over me. The left side of my face was still pressed against the table surface but my right eye blinked in confusion and saw him grinning down at me. “When I call for you, though, you’d best come, and, ahh, you’d best be naked.”

He left me like that. I heard the old recliner creek as he rested his heavy body into it, and I realized he was putting on another movie. Finally I slid myself backwards onto two wobbly legs. Amazingly my shoes were still on. And my shirt, and bra. As I lowered myself to the floor my skirt came back down over my legs, too, and for some reason it felt dirty to still be clothed; to realize I’d been completely clothed in my school uniform while getting fucked by a man for the first time ever. But it was a great relief for my tired body to be off the table and I found myself curling up into a fetal position amongst the empty DVD cases that had fallen to the floor.

I don’t know how long I laid there like that. Through a fog I could hear another porn movie playing, the sounds of sex, the occasional grunt of the video store owner’s approval. Deep in my tiny body I thought I could feel his seed swimming around inside my womb and the thought both terrified and enthralled me. Would I get pregnant? Did it matter? I’d just been raped by this man and yet, in the end, he’d turned my body and mind against me. He’d made me his. Is that what the Bible meant about “one flesh”? Was I truly now his wife? If so, getting pregnant by him wasn’t such a bad thing. Was it?

Obviously I was in a terribly confused state of mind. My pubescent body had just gone through an incredible trauma and my mind was ill-equipped to make sense of it. It’s no wonder, then, that when I heard him call my name I stood up and started to undress without any thought of refusal.

My fingers fumbled with each button on my shirt and when I slipped out of it I suddenly felt cold. I shuddered as I unclasped the front of my bra and slipped it off, too. The tips of my pink nipples were hard little diamonds, I saw, as I reached behind me to unzip the back of my skirt after undoing my belt. I shook it off, then, stepped out of it with only my dress shoes and knee-high socks still on. I went down to one knee and undid the clasp of my right shoe, then switched to my other knee and undid the clasp on the right. Then I stood back up and stepped out of each shoe and suddenly I felt even shorter than before. I was just beginning to peel down one of my socks when I heard him say that I could leave them on.

He’d been watching me the whole time and I hadn’t even noticed. He was grinning at me and the sight of my nakedness underneath the flickering fluorescent light. With a gesture he commanded me to come to him, and obediently I did. As I got closer my embarrassment at having my young, developing body on full display brought back some of the earlier nervousness and embarrassment. This wasn’t like getting raped: in a way it was even more humiliating, to go to him like that, naked and freshly fucked and completely vulnerable. I brought my hands up to my chest as my face reddened. I kept my eyes on the ground as I walked around in front of him, between the recliner and the television set. I stood like that for a minute or so, my eyes cast down at the ground, staring at my toes. When he told me to look at him I started chewing on my lower lip but brought up my eyes as instructed.

He was still wearing his shirt but he was naked from the waist down. His hairy legs were spread apart and his cock was soft, but not shrivelled, between them. He was staring at me with hungry eyes when he said, “Arms to your, ahh, sides, Becky.”

I took a deep breath and then complied. He whistled softly as he got his first good look at my pale teenage breasts. Then he told me to turn around and, slowly, I did. He chuckled at my nervous obedience and I felt my flesh burn redder still. Posing for him like this was a new kind of humiliation that threatened to make me cry again. But in the end I was all cried out. And who was I kidding, anyway? Though the tears from earlier were still drying on my face it was his cum I could still feel lodged deep inside my belly. My tears hadn’t protected me from that and they wouldn’t protect me from whatever he had planned now.

He told me to come over to him and I did. When I got close enough he took me by the arm and gently pulled me up onto one of his fat, hairy legs. His arm came down around my waist, holding me in place, and I was suddenly reminded of sitting on Santa Claus’ lap at the mall when I was younger. His other hand was gently running over my naked thighs as I sat there. His touch made me shiver from head to toe.

“Now, ahh, here’s what’s going to happen,” he said to me as he reached out for my right wrist. He brought it over between his legs and then said, “You’re going to play with my cock as we, ahh, I explain things to you. When I get hard enough you’re going to get on the floor and take it into your mouth. Have you ever done that? Ahh, given a blowjob?”

I shook my head as my pulse quickened. He grinned. “Good,” he said. “Girl like you better learn sometime and, ahh, I like teaching little girls. So that’s what you’re gonna do, learn how to suck cock, and after I cum in that pretty mouth of yours I’ll let you get dressed and go home. But, ahh, when you get there you’re going to have a homework assignment to do. Are you good at homework, ahh, Becky?”

I gulped and nodded my head. My hand was now wrapped around his soft, semi-erect penis, and I was marveling at the way it felt in my cool hand. It was definitely bigger than any of the dogs’, even Patton’s, I could now clearly see. Even in its current semi-hard state it seemed so large that I couldn’t believe it had fit inside my body. Of course the cucumber I’d fucked myself with a lifetime ago had been bigger, but I’d never gotten it fully inside me. And though it wasn’t as large as the massive penises I’d seen in the movies he’d rented to me, this one was real. It was in my hand, throbbing in my small hand. Out of instinct I began to stroke it as he continued to speak.

“Of course you are. A good girl like you, ahh, probably loves homework,” he chuckled softly. “Now this assignment is, ahh, very important. You’re going to make me a list of every sexual thing you’ve ever done. Every person you’ve been with, every object you’ve put inside your cunt, every, ahh, dirty game you’ve played with your little friends. You will tell me everything, ahh, from the first time you rubbed your sweet puss to the first time a cock was inside you. Understand?”

The thought of writing such a revealing account of my sexual experiences made me shudder again, this time with fear. How could I possibly tell him about the dogs? Or did I have to tell him that much? With my fist slowly stroking his hardening dick I nodded, though, knowing that I could figure that out later.

“Good, good. And tomorrow, after school, you will come straight here when you, ahh, get off the bus. You will come straight to me and turn in your, ahh, homework. And we’ll have some more fun, you and me.

“Now here’s what you aren’t going to do,” he continued, his voice gaining that authoritative edge I was so used to hearing from my father. “You are not, ahh, going to tell anyone about this. Not a friend, ahh, not a teacher. No one. You are mine, now, Becky. This, ahh, is mine.” He gripped at my cunt, then, to show me what he meant. I squeaked with pain and nodded my head as he continued to talk. “If you, ahh, try to take it away from me, I’ll have to punish you severely.”

I gulped, and nodded, and continued to stroke his cock. It was almost fully erect. “There are other things you, ahh, aren’t going to do, either. For one, you’re not going to that liquor store anymore, because you, ahh, aren’t going to be smoking. Bet you didn’t, ahh, think I knew about that, did ya? Well I know what goes on over there with those Arabs, ahh, Becky. And you won’t be showing your tits to nobody from now on unless I say so. ‘sides, I don’t like watching you smoke. Makes you look trashy. Heh. From now on you only get to look trashy when I say so, too.”

The thought of quitting smoking made me frown. I’d really liked it and, in fact, I was dying for a cigarette as I sat in the man’s lap stroking his penis. I’d also grown to enjoy my little acts of exhibitionism at the Silver Star and would miss that, too. At the same time, though, it was sort of a relief to be told I had to stop. There was no way I’d be able to quit on my own and it was only a matter of time before my dad found out about my nicotine addiction. By commanding me to stop my new master was actually keeping me out of trouble.

“Second, you’re not going to, ahh, wear any panties anymore. Not at school, not at home, and definitely not here. I want your cunt to have air to breathe, and the thought of your juices dribbling down your leg while you’re kneeling for, ahh, prayer at school turns me on. Understand?”

That command made me shudder, but again I nodded. No underwear? Now that could possibly get me into trouble. But despite the potential embarrassment for doing so, I knew deep down that I would obey my master’s command.

“One last, ahh, thing, before you get on your knees,” he said. He began to tickle my little patch of pubic hair and then said, “This, ahh, needs to go. You’re too, ahh, young for this nasty hair. From now on you will shave your cunt so it’s as bald as the day your were, ahh, born. Understand?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” I said meekly. For me, that was the strangest command he had given me so far. I was proud of my pubic hair and I thought it made me more attractive, made me look more like a woman. Why would he want this evidence of my maturity gone? I could understand why the actresses in those porno movies shaved– so that their pussies were easier to see on camera– but I wasn’t about to star in any movies. But again, for some reason I knew instinctively that I would obey. No matter how strange or degrading the command, I was going to be obedient and do as I was told.

He chuckled finally and then told me to get on my knees.

His cock was almost fully erect as I meekly crawled off his leg and got on my knees in front of him. I studied his member intensely. It was so large I had to doubt if it would actually fit inside my mouth, but I had no choice. Already he was pulling my head toward it, commanding me to open up wide. I obeyed and when it slid past my teeth I felt a wave of pleasure wash over me. Ever since I’d eaten out Amy I’d wondered what it would be like to give oral sex to a man, too. It always looked so degrading in those movies when the woman was servicing a man like this, using her mouth for his pleasure only, sucking on the thing he fucked and peed with. Now I was the one sucking a cock and it made me feel deliciously naughty.

And it felt natural, too. It felt natural to be in this position. I was no longer afraid or confused at all. The more he commanded me and told me what to do the more I felt like I really was his. Just like he’d said, I was his. It was strangely relieving to know that. And it was exciting. As he instructed me on how to properly blow him I felt more subservient and degraded, and that just got me hotter. I swirled my tongue around the head of his shaft, just like he told me to, and actually felt proud when he made sounds of pleasure as a result. I found myself taking the initiative, trying to force the entire length of his cock down my throat like I’d seen the women do in those movies. When I heard him call me a “good little cocksucker” I felt goosebumps break out on my flesh. I slobbered over his dick, choking on it, trying to live up to his words. Of course, I didn’t know enough about blowjobs back then to know I was really doing a sloppy, amateurish job. But ignorance was bliss and he was sighing in delight above me and it made me feel proud.

I was disappointed when he told me to stop. Had I done something wrong? But then he was telling me to keep my mouth open and he was pumping his dick right in front of my face. He wanted to finish himself, I realized, and I knew exactly where he wanted his seed to go.

“Ahh, perfect position, just perfect,” he sighed. My hands were on my knees, my mouth wide open, and his cock was mere inches away from it. He was stroking himself quickly now and telling me what I already knew, that he was going to cum in my mouth. My heart thumped in anticipation as I waited and then, finally, it happened.

Squirt after squirt of his gooey cum shot out of his cock, most of it landing directly on my tongue. I shuddered in response but kept my mouth wide open as my heart pounded and he groaned through his climax. Some of his jets of sperm missed, landing instead on my lips and chin and cheeks, but the majority hit where he’d intended. When he finished cumming he started to chuckle. He told me to straighten my back since I’d been leaning forward, and I did, and now he really began to laugh. My face grew red with embarrassment. What was so funny?

“A perfect cum receptacle,” he chortled. He placed one hand on the top of my head and turned it this way and that so he could see my open, cum-filled mouth from every angle. “That, ahh, is exactly what your mouth is. You look very pretty like this, did you know that?”

I couldn’t reply, not that I would have known how to. What I did know was that he wasn’t laughing at me in a mean way. What he said was meant as a compliment, or at least I took it as such. It made me feel good to know that I had pleased him.

“Okay, ahh, swallow it down, now, that’s a girl.”

I tingled all over as I gladly closed my mouth and tasted his thick gobs of semen on my tongue. Obediently I swallowed it down, loving the feel of it sliding down my throat even more than the feeling of it inside my womb. When I was done he told me to get the rest off my face, and I did so, using a finger to wipe his sperm from my chin and cheeks and then sucking that finger without being told. I loved the taste of it, I decided. It was a salty, sort of sweaty taste made all the more delectable because of what it was and where it had come from. When I was done I looked back up at him and for the first time since following him to this back room of his store there was a smile on my face.

He told me to get dressed, then, and I nodded and stood dreamily to my feet. I felt giddy and dazed as I pulled on my skirt, and then my shoes, as he watched me from his chair. I was completely horny, I realized, but it didn’t look like he had any plans to get me off. The only thing he said to me while I dressed was a reminder not to put on my panties. When I was finally fully clothed again I stood facing him with a nervous smile on my face. I decided I just had to ask him, so I did, as demurely and politely as possible.

“Uhm, sir?” I said, “Can I uhm… cum, too? B-before I leave, I mean?”

He studied me with a wry expression on his face. He seemed to consider my request for a moment before saying, “No, ahh, I don’t think so. In fact, I don’t want you cumming after you leave, either. I want you, ahh, charged up for tomorrow.”

I stood there, wanting to protest but unable to speak. If he noticed my discomfort he ignored it, saying only that I had better get going and that he wanted me to leave via the back door. With a slight, confused frown on my face I slung my backpack over one shoulder and followed him to the exit, which he unlocked with a key before turning to me and gently patting me on the head. “Remember the rules and, ahh, your homework tonight, little one,” he said. “We’ll have plenty of fun tomorrow. Don’t, ahh, be late.”

He gave me a gentle push as I stepped out into the alley behind the store. Then he closed the door behind me without even saying goodbye. The smell of trash from a nearby dumpster filled my nostrils as I stood there. For a moment I didn’t moved, sort of blinded by the realization I was outside again. And then, with a deep breath, I started walking home.

 

CHAPTER 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!

“THREE!”

I was determined to keep count with the blows, despite my blubbering, despite the pain.

“FOUR!”

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.

“Wh-who?”

“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.”

“Wh-why? Sir?”

“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.

 

CHAPTER 5

 

As it turns out I only ended up being my master’s slave for about three weeks.

They were a hectic, life altering three weeks, though. Every hour of every day was so packed full of new duties and responsibilities that I had absolutely no time for myself anymore. I mean, before having a master I’d had my chores, my church, and my studying. Those obligations alone had taken up a ton of my time. But with the additional burden of having to please a warped and demanding master my life had essentially become nothing but obligations from the moment I awoke to the moment I went to sleep. I never had time to do anything I wanted. The only time I really had for myself anymore were the few minutes I laid in bed every night before falling asleep. Often I would spend the time masturbating, though there were times I fell asleep before achieving orgasm. Not that it mattered much. I was getting more than my fair share of orgasms everyday over at my master’s house.

It only took a few days for my ass to return to normal but even back then I knew that there was no way my life ever would. By all outward appearances I was still an awkward, innocent, fresh faced girl but I was no longer a virgin and never would be again. I was on the pill now and it didn’t seem likely that would ever stop. And then there were things I was doing, things my master demanded of me, that further chipped away at the 13-year-old child I’d so recently been. My entire psyche was being carved into something new and there was no way I could stop it, even if I had wanted to. My master constantly referred to this as my “training”– but what was I being trained for? That I didn’t know. All I knew was that I wanted it to continue. Occasionally I would long for the Becky of Old but deep down I enjoyed what was happening to me. All of it was so exciting to my warped pubescent brain. I mean, even the punishments excited me. To be honest, they often excited me even more than the rewards did, even though they were always painful and humiliating to endure.

It wasn’t enough for my master that I was over at his house every day, fucking him and sucking him however he desired. He wanted more. He wanted to control all of me. In order to accomplish this he was constantly giving me new rules and homework assignments. One new rule was that he’d decided I could no longer wear a bra around my house. Never mind the fact that this meant my brothers and father were constantly exposed to my jiggling, teeny-bopper boobs, and that I always felt completely awkward in my own home as a result. My master liked the idea of me being a sex object in my house so I had to obey. My master promised that if my father ever garnered up the courage to tell me my attire was inappropriate I’d be able to go back to support undergarments in the house but my father never said a word.

“I’m sure he enjoys, ahh, watching your little titties jiggle,” my master had said, adding, “God I can’t wait for them to get, ahh, bigger.” He mentioned my chest sized all the time. I guess for him my barely b-cup boobies weren’t big enough for him, yet. But I was a growing girl, he would always say, and any day know I would hit another growth spurt.

Another new rule was that I had to spend at least thirty minutes every day stretching. At first I just thought he just liked watching me touch my ear to my knee while I was naked, or whatever, but eventually he decided that my stretching was taking up too much of his time with me. I had to do it at home, on my own time after that. Apparently he simply wanted me limber and flexible. He even bought me a book about it. “You’ll be able to, ahh, do the splits any day now,” I remember him telling me when he gave me the illustrated stretching manual intended for ballet dancers.

He also gave me another book, one that he made himself and had put an uncharacteristic amount of time and effort into completing. It was only about a hundred pages long but he’d had it bound professionally at some sort of publishing store. When he gave the prettily wrapped gift to me during our second week together I was a little surprised. I’d been able to tell that it was a book from its heft and feel, but I’d expected something perverted. Like, some kind of book full of nasty erotic stories or something. But when I unwrapped it what I saw instead was a paperback sized, hardcover book with a large white cross embossed against a gold cover. It resembled the kind of prayer book I might have received at school or at my church.

I remember him breathing heavily at the look of confusion on my face. “Open it,” he said.

When I did all my confusion left me. Because on the cover page, in beautiful flowing script, was the title. It read: “A Complete List of All Sexual Sins in the Catholic Holy Bible”. The subtitle read, “A Checklist for Becky S. from Her Master”.

The book was actually more than just a checklist, it was also sort of a journal. And my master had sure done his research. At the top of each page of heavy-stock white paper a different sexual sin was listed, along with a Bible verse or two to support that what was described really was a sin according to the Bible. For instance, on one page I randomly flipped to the sin listed at the top was “Viewing Pornography”. There were two supporting Bible verses: Matthew 5:28 (“But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”) and 1 Thessalonians 4:3-4 (“It is God’s will that… you should avoid sexual immorality; that each of you should learn to control his own body in a way that is holy and honorable”). And below those two quotes were blank lines where I could list the dates I committed the sin. For that particular one, “Viewing Pornography”, he’d given me two additional pages full of blank lines.

Other sins listed in the Book of Sins (as he liked to call it) included “Sex Before Marriage”; “Exhibitionism”; “Masochism”; and even “Oral Sex”. All the regular ones were there, too: “Incest”, “Prostitution”, “Lesbianism”, and the “Use of Contraceptives”. All in all he’d managed to list, and find Bible passages to support, 69 sexual sins. Whether or not that number was intentional on his part I’ll never know. What I do know is that some of the sins listed really scared me since he was also calling the book a checklist.

Checklists are things people make with the intention, or at least the desire, of completing. So when I saw the sin “Making Pornography” listed in the book, along with, “Sexually Abusing a Child”, I did get a little worried. But my stupid little brain was able to explain it away. He was just trying to be thorough, I thought. He didn’t expect me to actually make pornography anymore than he intended me to abuse another child. There was no way he was that twisted, I told myself.

After giving me the book my homework assignment was to read it and fill in every date of every sin I’d already committed. And I did so as accurately as I could. Thankfully he’d told me that I could use ranges of dates when necessary rather than having to list each one separately. Otherwise, even though he’d given me three pages of blank lines to fill out for the sin of “Masturbation”, I would have definitely run out of room.

His obsession with my Catholic upbringing was obvious from the start of our short-lived relationship. I learned this the day after he’d made me walk to the coffee shop wearing that slutty black fishnet shirt. That day had been a Sunday. My dad was taking my brothers to a Browns game while I went to mass, so I was going to have a ton of time to spend with my master after church. When I got to his house, though, the sight of me in my very conservative, pure white Sunday dress had elicited a response I never would have expected.

I mean, I was in my Church clothes! I could see why my Catholic School uniform was sexy because it involved a pleated skirt, a tight fitting top, and those knee high socks that really accentuated my youthful legs. But my Sunday church clothes? My dress that day had been all white and fell down way below my knobby knees. The outfit revealed no cleavage whatsoever and even its sleeves were long, silky, and stretched down to my wrists. In addition, my hair was tastefully pinned back and I was wearing white gloves. Very little skin showed. What could possibly be sexy about that?

But my master got so excited by the sight of me that he bent me over almost immediately, and fucked me from behind without removing a stitch of clothing from my 13-year-old body. He didn’t need to, after all. I wasn’t wearing panties. Heck, this outfit had been the first dress I’d worn since receiving that rule that hadn’t worried me at all. The dress was so long there was no way anyone could ever know I wasn’t wearing underwear. But he knew. And when he bent me over and fucked my eager, amateur cunt, the idea that I was being screwed in one of my Sunday dresses got me so hot that I came several times.

After that he wanted to know everything about my church. And I told him. I told him about how I was the only member of my family expected to go to mass each Sunday, since supposedly it had been my mother’s dying wish that I be raised a “proper Catholic”. I told him all about Father DeGrazia, the man who had been my priest since the moment I was born. He had baptized me, I explained, and had given me my first communion. When I absentmindedly mentioned the fact that Fr. DeGrazia was the only man besides him who knew I’d ever masturbated, my master grew even more intrigued.

“Well… uhm, like I said in that notebook… I mean, in my homework assignment?” I struggled to explain. I was still wearing that white Sunday dress but his cum was now dribbling out from between my pubescent legs and he was holding me tightly against him. I continued, “Uhm, when I learned that m-masturbating was… a sin? I confessed it. But I… I haven’t confessed it since that one time. I mean, I can’t tell him about this stuff… sex stuff. It’d be, I mean, too embarrassing.”

This information seemed to please my master. A few days later is when he gave me the Book of Sins.

We had two more Sundays together as master and slave after that. During the first his only command was that I finger myself whilst confessing whatever hum-drum sin I decided to admit to my priest. That wasn’t so bad. At least I got to choose the sin I wanted to confess. Of course, I had to be careful not to rustle my dress too much while I fingered my cunt, or make any other potentially embarrassing sounds. But I chose one of my less flamboyant Sunday dresses for just that purpose. It was a light yellow dress that draped down around my knees, and when I went to kneel in the confessional booth it had been easy to silently pull it up behind me so that I’d have access to my cunt. And while I fingered myself from behind I focused on where I was: St. Joseph’s, the church I’d always attended, the church I had been baptized at. Keeping my mind on such thoughts kept my pussy more or less dry, and prevented me from getting too worked up.

I should mention, though, that while Fr. DeGrazia droned on in his Italian accent about how I had to say ten “Our Father’s” as penance for breaking the fourth commandment, my mind did wander a bit. And I found out that fingering myself in the confessional booth was such a nasty thrill that I nearly lost control despite my best efforts.

The last Sunday I had to endure as my master’s slave was a lot worse. Because on that Sunday I was completely the biggest punishment my master had ever doled out.

It all began on a chilly November afternoon. It was a Thursday, and Thursdays were one of the days I still had to prepare dinner for my family. On days like that my master would often send me a text message while I was at school letting me know whether he wanted me to go over to his place before dinner, after dinner, or both. On this particular Thursday he told me to come on over after.

When I got the message during fifth hour I was relieved. I had a ton of homework to do and this would give me the opportunity to finish it before preparing supper for my dad and brothers. Fact was I was starting to fall behind in several classes because of all the time I spent with my master. Any opportunity to play catch up was a good thing.

But it turned out I wouldn’t have any opportunity to study that day. Because, to my surprise, my dad was already home when I got there.

It turned out that the factory he worked at as a skilled trade electrician had been shut down halfway through his shift because a delivery of steel never arrived. When I walked into the house, though, he didn’t explain that to me. What he did do was glare at me menacingly and from the look in his eyes I knew I was in trouble.

He was on his cell phone. Cupping the mouthpiece with one hand he pointed at me angrily and said, “Up to your room. Right now!”

I scampered away in a total freight, running up the stairs as fast as my legs would carry me. I hadn’t seen my dad so angry in a very long time, but I had no idea what he was angry about. Had he found out about my master? That I was on the pill? Had I done something stupid like leave a porn magazine in my room? I had no idea. What I did know was that I was in trouble, and that the moment he finished his conversation he’d be coming up to see me.

I paced around inside my bedroom completely terrified. There were so many things I could get punished for, I just didn’t know which one he’d found out about! And then it occurred to me: punishment! He was going to punish me. I was certain of it. And with my dad that could only mean one thing.

Suddenly I heard his heavy footsteps on the stairway and I knew I didn’t have much time. I ran over to my dresser and pulled open the top drawer to retrieve the first pair of panties I could find. Since I was never wearing them anymore the drawer was packed full of clean, folded underwear. I grabbed a pair of pink cotton panties and, without taking my shoes off or anything, started to pull them on. It was a peculiar feeling to have underwear on again. It’d been two weeks since I’d last worn a pair and the fabric felt strange on my bald cunt. I didn’t have time to reflect on that too much, though, since I had just finished putting them on and readjusting my skirt when my dad threw open my bedroom door.

I gulped at the sight of him. Then my wide, terror filled eyes locked onto what he was carrying in his big right hand. It was a coffee can. My scared teenage mind didn’t have time to figure out its significance but I knew in my gut it meant something bad. Then the screaming began.

“You mind explaining this to me?” he said, his voice simmering with fury. He thrust the can out to me. I was frozen with fear and couldn’t think of anything to say. I just stood there, paralyzed, my knees beginning to shake.

“I know what you’ve been up to in the kennel!” he roared. “You think I wouldn’t find out? Huh?”

My face flushed red. For one brief moment I thought he might actually know what I’d been up to in the kennel, or at least what I’d been up to there a few weeks before with the dogs. That thought was so horrifying I literally felt myself getting sick.

But then he took the lid off the coffee can and stuck it in my face. The smell of cigarette butts engulfed my nostrils.

“I found this behind my worktable,” he yelled. “You’ve been smoking, haven’t you? Don’t lie to me!”

His accusation was actually a relief. Of course I should have realized what I was getting in trouble for at the first sight of the coffee can but I’d been too scared to remember right away. See, back when I’d been visiting the dogs almost every night I’d hidden the can behind his worktable to use as an ashtray. I’d realized early on that I had to have a place to put out the cigarettes I loved to smoke before and after getting fucked by the dogs, and a coffee can seemed perfect. I’d always meant to empty it on a regular basis just in case, but I never had. And after I’d quit smoking because of my master I’d forgotten all about it.

“D-d-daddy, I… ,” I finally choked. “I, uhm, I…”

Suddenly he smacked me extremely hard across my cute, terrified face. The blow hurt so bad that I literally spun from its impact and fell on my butt. I began to cry as my dad pointed a trembling finger down at me. “Tell me the truth!” he roared. “Or God help me there’ll be more where that came from!”

“I’m sorry, D-daddy, I’m s-sorry!” I sobbed. Then it came pouring out of me, a lie mixed in with pieces of truth that once again proved I was good at thinking on my feet. “A g-girl gave me some cig-cigarettes, and then, and then, she s-sold me more! I th-thought I liked it, and I, I did sm-smoke for a while! But I quit, Daddy, I swear, I quit! Af-after Fr. DeGrazia t-told me it was a s-sin to… you know, to p-pollute my body like th-that, I quit right away! I haven’t smoked in w-weeks!”

I was rocking back and forth on the ground, my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. I sobbed uncontrollably as I waited for my dad to say something. When he didn’t right away I peaked one blurry eye up and saw him at my desk, going through my purse. Then, to my horror, I saw him pawing around inside my backpack. He tossed out a couple of books, including the Book of Sins, but didn’t inspect them. And thankfully he didn’t touch the folders I hid my porn magazines in. He was only looking for cigarettes.

Finally he walked back over and glared at me suspiciously. “You be honest right now, Becky. Are you tellin’ me the truth? You really quit?”

“Y-yes!” I blubbered. “I knew it was dumb, Daddy, I knew it was wrong! B-but when I f-found out it was s-sinful, too, I just quit! I had to!”

Thankfully I was telling the truth. I really had quit. If he had sensed any trace of deceit in my voice I know he would have really lost it. It was also a good thing that my dad, who believed so much that his little girl cherished her church and was obedient to her god in all ways, accepted my explanation for why I’d done so. It fit nicely with his view of me as a timid, obedient, church-going daughter.

“Well, then,” he said. “You’re just lucky you quit right away. I tell ya, girl, cigarettes are one of the most addictive things in the world. It took me five years and your mother’s constant intervention, God rest her soul, before I was able to kick the damned things. It’s a nasty, terrible thing to get hooked on. You hear me?”

“Y-yes,” I choked out. I was beginning to feel relieved. He was calming down and had completely bought my fictitious story about how I’d gotten into smoking.

He wasn’t done with me yet, though. “Come on,” he said, sitting down on my bed. “We best get your punishment over so we can both move on.”

My eyes widened and stared at him as my heart sunk. “D-daddy, please!” I begged. “I’m thirteen!”

The anger returned to his voice. “You really wanna argue with me right now?” he growled. “Thirteen or thirty, it don’t make no difference to me! Whenever you misbehave your father will always punish you! Now come on, let’s get this over with!”

Sniffling back more tears I slowly got to my feet. My heart thumped in my chest as I slowly pulled up my skirt, ready to assume the position and thankful beyond measure that I’d had the presence of mind to pull on a pair of panties before he’d gotten to my room.

I was on automatic pilot as I draped my body across his lap. This had been my punishment for as long as I could remember whenever I did something really bad, but it was the first time I’d been spanked since my body had really started to develop. The last time had occurred months before after I’d called Jason a faggot. I think there was a part of me that had hoped I was too old for spankings now, and a part of me that was glad that I wasn’t. Because like it or not I was actually getting excited. When I felt him pull my pleated skirt back the rest of the way, and realized he was getting a good look at my rounder, more womanly ass for the first time ever, I nearly choked with sexual arousal.

Unlike the last time he’d spanked me he didn’t curse me or insult me as he began to beat my ass. He didn’t say anything, in fact. He let his hand do all the talking. After each blow to my delectable behind, though, I couldn’t help but scream. Part of me was just trying to cover up the gasps of pleasure that kept threatening to escape my lips but no small part of it was from the actual, very real pain from his blows. He certainly wasn’t holding anything back. In fact, with each new blow he seemed to be hitting me even harder. I writhed around on his lap as he punished me, kicking my legs back and screaming with pain each time one landed. And then I felt it.

Just like the last time he’d punished me like this I felt his erection growing beneath my belly button about halfway through. This time I was certain what it was, and it felt massive. It was creeping up against his skin, restrained by his underwear and jeans so that it couldn’t stick upward, but the outline of it felt absolutely huge. He was easily bigger than my master, I realized, and as my tiny body slid this way and that across his thing it didn’t stop growing! My screaming intensified as his dick hardened beneath me. If I didn’t scream my throat raw, I knew, I’d only end up revealing the pleasure I felt from this treatment.

Finally he was done spanking my ass but unlike the previous times he’d done this to me he didn’t immediately lift me off his lap and throw me onto my bed. Instead he seemed to be catching his breath while I blubbered and sobbed across his lap. All I could see was the ground, of course, but I felt in my bones that he was staring at my butt still. His erection, meanwhile, seemed to be throbbing beneath my tummy. I kept myself completely still, afraid that if I made any voluntary motion over his erection he’d realize that I knew what it was. I didn’t want him to know that I could feel it, and knew what it was, for about a billion reasons. But knowing that only a few millimeters of clothing separated my daddy’s cock from my smooth, flat tummy was making it more and more difficult for me to stay motionless.

He kept me draped over his lap for a good long while. Then he slowly pulled my skirt back over my butt and gently grabbed me around my waist. With no effort whatsoever he tossed me off his lap, onto my bed, and he quickly stood up and walked away. Without turning around I heard him say, “Alright, then, you best remember that the next time you want to go and do something stupid like smoke cigarettes.”

He slammed my door shut and I was left alone, breathless and trembling all over.

After a few minutes I crawled off of my bed and retrieved my cell phone from my purse. My fingers were still shaking as I typed a text message to my master.

I was asking him for permission to have an orgasm. That had become one of his rules early on in our relationship. If I wanted to have an orgasm I had to get his permission first. And right now my dazed, confused young mind was desperate to have one.

While I waited for his reply I examined my butt in the mirror. I kicked off my panties first, knowing that I wouldn’t be putting them back on again but still extremely glad I’d chosen to put them on before my dad had gotten to me. What if he’d lifted my skirt and seen that I wasn’t wearing any underwear? There was no way I’d have been able to explain that.

My ass was bright red and would definitely turn angry shades of black and purple before it recovered, I knew. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the time my master had used the ping pong paddle and cat o’ nine tails on it a couple weeks before, but it was bad. After rubbing it tenderly and wincing at my touch I paced around my bedroom, anxiously waiting for my master to text me back. When he finally did I was relieved beyond measure that he’d decided I could cum without him. About half the time he would deny my request but thankfully this wasn’t one of those times. Though it shamed me beyond measure I was about as sexually aroused at that moment as any other time in my life before it. If my master had denied me my cum, well… I honestly don’t know if I would have been able to obey.

I piled up some pillows on my bed and bent over them so that my ass was high in the air behind me. I began to finger myself from behind and had to bury my face into my mattress in order to choke back the sounds and screams of pleasure I was tempted to belt out. It wasn’t long before I came. I didn’t even need to rub my clitty. Penetrating my soaking wet cunt with my trembling fingers was more than enough to do the job.

After that I tried to get some homework done but I just couldn’t concentrate. My mind kept drifting back to the feeling of dad’s erection. Was it normal for a father to get excited while spanking a daughter? Or was my dad just a sick old pervert to become aroused from spanking his little girl? Of course, I had no room to talk. I’d gotten sexually aroused, too. What did that say about me?

Eventually I gave up on homework and took a shower instead. Afterwards I dressed in a modest red blouse and a pair of black slacks. Of course I wasn’t wearing any underwear, neither bra nor panties, but my tits didn’t strain against this particular top. The last thing I wanted right now was for my dad to get a good look at the outline of my breasts, even if he had been seeing that quite a bit lately. I just didn’t want to up the ante at all, not right now, not after what I’d just been through. When I was finished dressing I brushed and blow dried my hair, pulled on a pair of shoes, and went downstairs to prepare dinner.

The meal was extremely awkward for me. I had a hard time looking at anyone, most of all my dad. My brothers basically ignored me as always but normally my dad would ask me at least a couple of questions, about my day and whatnot. But he didn’t. I don’t think he looked at me once during dinner. Maybe he knew that I’d been able to feel his hard-on during the spanking and was embarrassed. Or maybe he was simply mad at me, still, for smoking. I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that I couldn’t wait to leave after doing the dishes.

When I got over to my master’s house at around six that evening I was anxious to get fucked. I wanted to feel a man’s cock so bad– any man’s cock, so long as it wasn’t my dad’s. Doing so, I felt, would erase the memory of how excited I’d gotten during the spanking. Unfortunately my master didn’t make it that easy for me.

“What do you mean you put on, ahh, panties?” he demanded.

His tone of voice made me shudder. He sounded pissed off– really pissed off. I was in the middle of telling him about what had happened that afternoon. He’d been able to tell from the expression on my face that something had occurred, and I saw no reason why I shouldn’t tell him the truth. Not that I ever lied to my master anyway, but maybe I would have if I’d known how mad he was about to get.

“I… I had to,” I insisted quietly, surprised that he didn’t understand. “I mean, uhm… I knew he was going to spank me, Sir. How would I have explained wuh-why I didn’t have underwear on?”

Suddenly he smacked me. Hard. And coincidentally his blow landed on the same side of my face my dad had hit earlier.

“You stupid cunt!” he roared. “I don’t care about explanations! You could have just said you were a, ahh, fucking slut for all I care! What I do care about is that you, ahh, broke one of my rules!”

“I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry!” I blubbered. I really hadn’t expected his reaction to be so violent. In fact, it had never occurred to me that he’d be mad at all. I’d actually thought he’d be proud of me for thinking on my feet like that. I knew he didn’t want my relationship with him exposed anymore than I did, and the way I saw it I’d been protecting our secret arrangement by pulling those pink panties on. Apparently I’d been wrong.

“You stupid fucking slut,” he admonished me. He was pacing back and forth in front of me while I sat in the center of his big leather couch, cowering now in the presence of his wrath. “I ought to, ahh, bend you over right now and let the cat o’ nine tails really, ahh, punish you.”

“N-no, please, puh-please!” I begged. Tears were streaming down my face. The thought of my poor ass enduring any more torture right now was beyond imagining.

He glared at me for a long moment as if considering his options. Then he said, “Take your fucking, ahh, clothes off. I’m sick of looking at you in that ugly fucking shirt. In fact, ahh, from now on you only wear tight shirts and, ahh, dresses. You dress your age, got it? No more of these fucking soccer mom bullshit blouses.”

“Y-y-yes,” I stammered. It hurt to hear him speak so meanly to me, especially since I didn’t think there was anything in my entire wardrobe that remotely resembled “soccer mom” apparel. Even this modest red blouse was cute in its own way, but I wasn’t about to argue. I was determined to show him how compliant I was. To that end I wasted no time unbuttoning the blouse. If I could demonstrate for him that I was still his obedient slave, I thought frantically, he’d be proud of me again in no time.

“What to do? Ahh, what to do,” he muttered to himself. He was still pacing in front of me, and wringing his hands behind his back as he did. “You deserve a, ahh, major punishment for this. And to think you, ahh, had the nerve to ask for an orgasm after defying me like that? And that I gave you permission, too. You just had to, ahh, cum after your daddy spanked you, is that it?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” I admitted. My shirt was off now and I was pulling off my pants.

“Did he get excited, too?” he asked. “Like, ahh, last time? You wrote that he got hard the last time he, ahh, spanked you. Did it happen again?”

“Yes,” I whispered, embarrassed by the memory. Remembering that I wanted to demonstrate my obedience, though, I shook away that embarrassment and said more forcefully, “Yes, Sir, uhm… he d-definitely did.”

After I was naked he made me lie down on my back while he went to a closet to get something. My body trembled as I stared up at the ceiling, wondering what would happen next. At least I was on my back, I figured. Though it was painful for my poor little butt it at least meant he didn’t intend to punish it further. That, at least, was a good sign. But then I realized there were worse things than spankings. Because when he returned he was carrying four big, thick white candles.

I knew instantly what they were for. He’d never done it to me but had mentioned it in passing once or twice as a possible punishment should I refuse to do something or fail at a task. I gulped as he set them up on the ground perpendicular to the couch and then lit them each in turn. I watched him do this out of the corner of my eye with growing fear and apprehension. Then he picked up the first one and stood over my trembling body.

He was grinning down at me with a look of pure evil on his face. “This will be, ahh, only the start of your punishment, whore,” he said. “Do not doubt me for a, ahh, moment when I promise I’ll think of a more appropriate punishment later. Trust me, I will. Right now I’m just too angry to get very, ahh, creative. Right now I, ahh, just want to see you hurt.”

I started sobbing again, terrified by the pain that was about to come. I gripped my hands into the leather sofa and shook from head to toe. I’d had friends before who had played around with hot wax, lighting birthday candles or whatever and dripping the melted wax onto their fingers. Nothing major. But I’d always been too afraid of the pain to join them. The screams they made after one or two little drips of wax hit their fingers or hand had always been so intense that I refused to follow suit. My master, of course, wasn’t going to limit the wax to just my hands.

He continued leering down at me with that evil grin on his face, obviously enjoying my fear and begs for mercy. My mouth was on automatic pilot, sobbing that I’d do anything, that I’d suck him off or fuck him or wear the fishnet shirt again, without the black tape over my nipples even, anywhere he wanted. He remained silent, listening to my breathless pleas but just grinning in response. And then, slowly, he he tilted the first candle and suddenly my begs turned into screams.

The first drops landed directly on my left tit, and as he continued to pour the wax onto my delicate skin some landed on my nipple, too. The pain was excruciating. I felt like my skin was on fire. The wax cooled and hardened quickly on my nubile flesh but even that process hurt beyond measure. He picked up another candle after the first was spent and continued my punishment without missing a beat. The hot wax dripped onto my other tit, then between them, leaving a trail of pain down my body. I bucked up my body and squirmed and screamed, but I didn’t try to escape. Obedience was too ingrained in me by now for that. My only hope was that he’d show me mercy if he realized what agony I was in, so I screamed louder, at the top of my lungs, shrieks that could break glass. It didn’t matter, though. Mercy wasn’t a part of his vocabulary.

Whenever he ran out of wax from one candle he’d set it back on the floor and pick up the next one. I soon realized that he wasn’t going to stop until he’d covered every inch of my 13-year-old body with the horrifyingly painful wax. As it turned out, though, he avoided areas of my body that clothes wouldn’t cover up. Unfortunately this did not include my bald, sensitive cunt.

He saved that area for last. I nearly passed out when the first drop of melted wax dropped there, right between my legs. I wish I had passed out, actually, but even if I had there was no way I would have been able to remain unconscious. The pain was just too incredible. He dribbled the wax onto the sensitive skin of my labia first, sort of tracing the outline of my pubescent pussy. Then he let the wax fall onto my actual slit. It hit my clitty and as I shrieked he dribbled some more down to the entrance of my vagina. Even though I bucked and squirmed my body as I screamed in agony, he wouldn’t relent. I had never experienced anything so painful but he just continued to drip the melted wax onto my most private area. I felt like I was going to die.

Finally he was done. Most of my body was covered in the now cool and hardened wax, from my upper thighs to my tits and everything between. I writhed around sobbing on the couch, whimpering pathetically as he blew the candles out. Then he got on his knees and ran his hands over my wax covered body.

“That, ahh, is what happens when you break my rules,” he hissed in my ear.

He began to peel the wax off soon after. All I could do was choke and grunt. It wasn’t as bad as applying it had been, but peeling off the hardened wax was definitely an agony I’d never known before. Especially when he peeled it off my cunt and nipples: those were the most sensitive areas of my body and it felt as though my flesh was being ripped off as he pulled away the wax.

He grabbed me by my hair, then, and led my exhausted, reddened body over to the bed at the opposite end of his finished basement. My skin was red everywhere the wax had hit, I could see, and it made sense. Red is the color of fire and those areas felt like they were still ablaze. I continued to sob as he undressed himself. My body ached all over, but suddenly it was only a dull ache compared to earlier. When he laid down on his back, though, my blubbering intensified again. When he laid down his fat, naked body on his back it meant he wanted me to ride him. After what I’d just gone through the last thing I wanted was to be on top. Even though he had me practice the position all the time I still hadn’t gotten used to impaling myself on his cock. It was my least favorite position, the one I was the most awkward with, but apparently he wanted to be able to look at my face while we fucked.

“I want to watch you, ahh, sob like a little girl,” he explained evilly. “Today I want to see you cry, not cum.”

There was no chance that wouldn’t happen. I hadn’t even stopped crying from the torture I’d just endured, after all, and my poor little pussy was aching so bad I knew that fucking him was going to be even more painful that usual. It was going to be horrible. Absolutely horrendos. Obediently, though, I crawled up onto him even as tears trickled down my face. In a traumatic daze I positioned my sore cunt over his cock and tried to gather up the will to push my lower half down onto it.

As always he wouldn’t let me take my time, though. In fact, he really seemed to enjoy making me hurt this time.

Whenever I was on top I would naturally hesitate, and he would have to “encourage” me to continue. But normally he kind of let me set the pace, especially at the beginning. But on this day, when I needed more than ever to go slowly, he would have none of it. He gripped me by my bony hips and pulled my body down forcefully onto his prick without a word. Tears continued to roll down my cheeks and my sobbing intensified again as his cock tore into me. For the first time ever I wasn’t wet, either, as it grated its way inside me. There’s no way he didn’t realize this but apparently it didn’t bother him. He kept pulling me down on his cock, causing it to scrape its way painfully up into my tight, dry hole. I blubbered and whimpered and sobbed as his penetration of my nubile body intensified the stinging pain from his wax torture, but he just kept pulling me down. And once he was all the way up inside me he started to squeeze my reddened titties, too.

He had absolutely no interest in me enjoying this today, not that there was any chance I would. It was simply too painful. My cunt did end up getting a little wet, thankfully, but it was from instinct. Not pleasure, not arousal, but sheer instinct. My body juiced itself up just enough to alleviate my pain as much as it could. Once it did, though, I dutifully bobbed my body up and down on him, cringing each time I lowered myself on his stick and continuing to cry all the while but determined to be the slut he wanted me to be anyway. As always, whenever I slowed down he squeezed my tits to speed me up. On this day that encouragement was even more painful than usual since my tits were red from the applied, then removed, hot wax.

Fucking him while crying pathetically must have really gotten him worked up. He came quicker than he ever had before, much to my relief. The pain was so horrible that I’d been hoping from the onset it would end quickly, and it did. I was only on top of him for about five minutes before he started to groan. But when I felt his cock pulse and unleash his streams of semen inside me, something strange happened.

I mean, I’d felt him cum inside me on many occasions over the last couple of weeks. From many positions. And I thought I knew by now what it was like to have a cock erupt inside my young pussy. But this was different. You see, usually when he came in me (or when the dogs had before him) I’d already experienced at least one or two orgasms of my own. My pussy was always extremely juicy at that point. This time, however, my cunt was basically dry. Sure, my pussy had dampened a bit to help his cock slide in and out of my vagina. But it wasn’t even close to being soaking wet the way it usually was. So when his cock erupted I could literally feel his hot, thick goo spurting up inside me, a physical sensation I’d never truly appreciated before. It filled my vaginal tube. It squirted up into my womb. I felt all of this: the hotness of his cum, the thickness of its construction. Each squirt of semen from his dick roiled me and surprised me in ways I would never have been able to imagine before. In the end, despite all the pain and all my tears, I nearly had an orgasm. I probably would have, actually, if his own orgasm could have gone on just a few seconds longer.

 

It didn’t, though. After shooting his load up inside me he was done. He basically pushed me off his fat body and let me curl up into a ball of shame and confusion and pain. He laughed at me and left me alone, returning to the couch and putting on a porn movie.

The intense pain between my legs and all over my wax-burned skin slowly dampened as I was left alone to recover. Eventually I was all cried-out. I must have laid there for about a half an hour, all told. It surprised me how quickly my skin seemed to recover from the pain. What I had been certain would last for an eternity had become nothing but a dull throb in less than half an hour.

When my master ordered me to return to him I felt more or less normal. Certainly I was still shaken up but my mind had more or less recovered. And I knew beyond all doubt that I had learned my lesson. I would do anything to avoid ever experiencing that level of pain again, even if it meant showing my dad my naked ass and pussy the next time he spanked me. If he ever discovered I wasn’t wearing underwear I’d simply tell him that it made me feel good to let my pussy breathe. I would use those exact words. If that response got me grounded or ended up exposing my relationship with my master, so be it. Anything would be better than undergoing the torment I’d just experienced again.

My master wanted a blow job when I got back to him and I dutifully complied. I’d gotten a lot better at giving head but still couldn’t deep-throat, though my master sure liked to try. He never forced me too much for fear that I’d really gag and end up throwing up, but sometimes he gripped my head and held it down over his cock until I couldn’t breathe, telling me to relax my throat and allow it to slide down. It never did without me gagging, though, and this day was no exception. Eventually he let me return to my normal routine and it wasn’t long before he came despite the fact he wasn’t able to get his shaft all the way down my throat.

You need to keep in mind that despite all the sex and abuse I had been experiencing since becoming a slave, I was still just a 13-year-old girl. I wanted to be good at it, of course, but I was still only a child. Riding my master or trying to deep-throat him were still extremely difficult for me. I simply didn’t have the experience to do either effectively. To put it another way, I’m sure I was in the 99th percentile for girls my age giving head or getting fucked. But that didn’t mean I was ready for the big leagues. Little leaguers aren’t expected to pitch against the stars of Major League Baseball for a reason. But my master always seemed disappointed whenever I threw an air-ball. This day was no exception. He derided me afterwards for failing, once again, to accept his cock “properly”. And that made me feel more ashamed than ever.

After the blow-job he lectured me for nearly ten minutes about why my performance hadn’t been good enough. He insulted me and ridiculed me, and I almost started crying again because he made me feel so bad about myself. It made me feel horrible to be such a disappointment. But finally he said, “At least you, ahh, got me off” and wiped away a tear from my eye. That compliment, at least, made me feel a little bit better.

He wanted me on his lap after that. And as we watched porn together he tickled my pussy and got me to cum just from his touch. After I did he reminded me that my punishment wasn’t over, though.

“I’ll think of something good,” he promised. “Something, ahh, appropriate for the severity of your disobedience today.”

What he ended up coming up with involved my next, and last, Sunday as his slave.

Normally on Sunday mornings I would make breakfast for my family and then walk over to Mrs. Tubly’s house down the street.

Mrs. Tubly was a longtime neighbor with two little girls of her own. A single mother raising two cute but intollerably defiant little girls, Angelina Tubly was probably the least intelligent adult I knew. Her ex-husband was a multi-millionaire stock broker on Wall Street but she was content to receive incredibly modest child support payments from him. What she got for raising their children helped, but even at the age of 13 I knew she was struggling, and that deserved a lot more. But I never said a word of this: gossip was, after all, only gossip. And she was kind enough to drive me to church every Sunday so if anything, I was in her debt. And she appreciated my help containing her bossy 9-and-10 year old girls at St. Joseph’s and I saw it as a small price to pay to have a reliable ride to church every Sunday.

My master had ordered me to come over to his house before church on this particular Sunday. He had told me the night before that he had something special for me to do and that it would complete my punishment for breaking his “no panties” rule on Thursday. When I said that I’d miss my ride to St. Joseph’s if I went over to his house first, he promised that I’d get there on time.

When I got to his house I was nervous to say the least. I had no idea what he had in mind and had worried about it the night before, making it difficult to sleep. He was obviously planning to humiliate me in some way, but how? Surely he wouldn’t make me wear the fishnet top to church. Or would he? Just the previous night he’d made me walk around the mall in that humiliating top, and it’d only been through the grace of God that I hadn’t run into anyone I knew there.

I didn’t have to wait long for him to explain his plan. When I entered his house that morning he brought me straight downstairs, as always. My heart pounded in my chest when I saw that he’d set up a folding table and two chairs. And on the table were five shot glasses full of some kind of liquid.

“Sit, sit,” he said with a smile, gesturing to one of the two chairs. “You look, ahh, very lovely today, Becky.”

“Th-thank you, Sir,” I said. I was wearing one of my newer Church dresses, a lavender colored knee length one-piece without sleeves. It had a sloping neckline trimmed in a darker shade of lavender and though it didn’t reveal any cleveage I thought it looked really pretty on me. It was getting pretty chilly now that November had truly taken hold but I hadn’t worn a jacket, something I’d regretted the instant I’d stepped out of my house. My skin was covered in goosebumps and no doubt my face looked rosy from the cold walk over. I wasn’t worried about any of that right now, though. Right now my eyes were locked on the five shot glasses full of clear liquid laid out in front of me.

As if reading my mind my master said, “You look a bit, ahh, cold. Have a drink, it’ll warm you up.”

Gingerly I picked up the first shot glass, sniffed it, and then took a small sip. The taste was instantly recognizable: I would never forget the taste of rum, not after I’d nearly downed an entire pint about six weeks earlier. I hadn’t drank any alcohol since, and didn’t much want to, but if going to church drunk was my master’s punishment for me then I had no trouble complying. In fact, I counted myself lucky. I had expected something much worse.

“No, no, no,” he scolded me. “I thought you said in your, ahh, first homework assignment that you drank a pint once? If you, ahh, really did you should know the proper way to drink.”

“Th-this… is pretty much how I drank it, S-sir,” I said, truthfully.

He shook his head in disgust. “You’re not sipping, ahh, orange juice, girl. These are shot glasses! Throw ’em back and swallow the whole thing in one, ahh, go!”

I nodded obediently and then readied myself. I knew how strong the taste of this stuff was but throwing back an entire shot nearly made me choke anyway. But I kept the whole drink down and my master clapped for me.

“Good job, good job,” he chuckled. “Now the, ahh, next one. Hurry up, we don’t have all day, little one.”

I drank shot after shot as quickly as I could, throwing each back and gasping every time. The liquid burned my throat but did seem to have a warming effect as it hit my tummy. After I downed the fifth and final glassful of rum I realized I was already feeling a bit numb in the head, too. I even grinned at him afterwards, proud of my acheivement and ready to move on to church.

“Excellent, excellent,” he said. “Now it’s time to explain your punishment.”

I wrinkled my brow in confusion. I thought I’d just completed my punishment! But already he was reaching into a box on the floor next to his chair. He pulled out what appeared to be a pair of panties.

“On Thursday you, ahh, broke one of the first rules I ever gave you,” he explained. “The panties rule. You thought you were, ahh, doing something good, something to protect yourself from being embarrassed in front of your dear daddy. But all you proved was that you were more afraid of him than of, ahh, me. And that won’t stand. I am your master, Becky. He may be your, ahh, father, but you are my property. And even though I’m pretty damned, ahh, sure you’ll never forget that again, based on the intensity of your, ahh, screaming during the candle-wax treatment, I’m determined to drill it into that brainless head of yours even more. So, ahh, here. Put these on.”

He pushed the rumpled pair of black underwear in my direction. I reached across the table in confusion. My mind was beginning to fog up from the alcohol and his little speech hadn’t made a ton of sense to me. I gripped the black panties and pulled them toward me and was instantly surprised by its weight. I held them up to examine and nearly gasped at the sight of what appeared to be a black rubber penis sticking out of the front of them.

My master laughed at the look of surprise on my face. “They’re inside out,” he said. “Turn them the right way then pull them on. That little rubber, ahh, cock goes inside you.”

I blushed as I finally understood. This special pair of underwear was some kind of sex toy! And he wanted me to wear it in church. My pulse quickened at the thought. I mean, the rubber-penis shaped object attached to the inside of the panties wasn’t very big, but still, my cunt would be stuffed all throughout service. I gulped nervously and stood up.

As I pulled the underwear up my slender teenage legs I realized they were too big for me. I figured it wouldn’t matter, though, since the rubber dildo thing would keep them from falling down. With a sigh I widened my stance and sort of squatted as I pushed the object against my cunt. My master, meanwhile, got out of his chair and on one knee in front of me to watch as I pressed the object into me. I groaned as the thing slid into my cunt. The first inch wasn’t bad, and neither was the second, or third. But the fourth and final inch made me groan again and I felt my pussy grow damp.

“Let me see, let me see,” my master muttered. I held my lavender dress up so he could examine his little toy plugged up inside my body. He seemed to approve of that, but was concerned with the loose fitting pair of panties it was attached to. “I was, ahh, afraid of this. I bought the smallest pair I could, ahh, find, but they don’t have a ‘tween’ section at the adult book store I shop at. Okay, ahh, one second.”

I stood there as he went back over to his box, sort of swaying in place as I held my dress up over my waist. The feeling of the object inside me was definitely noticeable but in truth it wasn’t all that bad. I could probably ignore it once my tight cunt really adjusted for its size. I wasn’t going to tell my master that, though. He obviously liked the idea of using this special “panties dildo” sex toy on me and probably figured it would be a huge, embarrassing distraction during church services. It dawned on me that it probably would have been a month earlier, too. But I’d been through too much by now for it to really be that big a deal. Once again I was relieved that my punishment wasn’t worse.

He returned a moment later with a roll of duct tape in his hand. As he tore off a long strip of tape I realized that the panties had already slid down past my hips. They really were much too large for my small pubescent body. Worse yet, the little rubber cock was beginning to slide out of my cunt, and I realized that the purpose of the panties– to hold the cock in place– was lost since they were too large for me. My master had obviously already thought of a way to remedy this, though.

He pulled the panties back up as high as he could, causing the little dildo thing to dig its way back up into my cunt. I sighed at the sensation and then giggled drunkenly as he applied the tape. He wrapped it around my ticklish tummy, being careful to keep the tape on enough of the cheap fabric and my skin to hold both together. Next he tore off one long strip and slapped it right over my belly button. He pushed the strip of tape down my body until it was between my legs and then he slid one arm behind me and pulled the tape back up on the opposite side, right over my butt crack. When he was done both the panties and the object it was supposed to hold inside me were definitely secure.

“That should do it. How does it, ahh, feel?” he said.

“A little, uhm, drunk,” I said. Then I giggled when I realized he’d asked how the toy felt. “I mean, uhm, good. I feel like… pleasantly stuffed!”

He grinned. “Good. Now we’d, ahh, better get going. Don’t want to be late for church.”

I followed him up the stairway and into his garage and soon we were both sitting in his big white van. It was a strange sensation to be walking with that object stuffed up inside me. Each step made it move ever so slightly, a constant reminder of its presence. But even as my brain continued to grow foggy from the five shots of rum I’d just had I became certain of one thing: if my master had really wanted me to feel uncomfortable in church he would have made sure the rubber dildo thing was at least as big as his dick. That would have really made me feel stuffed. Better yet he could have found something as big as my dad’s cock, which I was certain was bigger than my master’s even though I hadn’t seen it. Something that size would have been impossible to ignore. The little thing inside me right now, on the other hand, was going to be easy to forget about once I got used to it.

When we reached the church parking lot he said to me, “Mass starts at, ahh, 10:30, right?”

“Mmm… uhm, I mean, yes, Sir!” I said. That’s when I noticed he wasn’t slowing down to make the turn. I looked over at him with a puzzled expression on my face. He just grinned.

After a minute he said, “We have 35-minutes before, ahh, mass starts. There’s a little park down here you can walk to church from. And meet me at after. I don’t want people to, ahh, see us enter your, ahh, church together.”

I was really confused now. “You’re, uhm… what do you mean, together? Sh- uhmm, I mean, Sir?”

He gave me an evil little grin just as he turned down the dirt road that led to the park he’d mentioned. I knew it well: Benya’s Community Recreational Park. It was a barely kept-up quasi-park and wasn’t even paved, but it had a swing-set, a slide, lots of trees, and a few picnic tables overlooking a little creek. When I was really little my dad used to tell me to walk to it after church and “play” until he got there to pick me up. Sometimes I ended up staying there for hours, alone, waiting for him to arrive. I had always hated that place. When Mrs. Tubly had offered to give me a ride home one day after spotting me walking toward it, she’d instantly become my favorite neighbor ever. Benya’s Park had become a symbol of my dad’s lack of affection toward me. In the years since I had not once set foot there. But my master had chosen this place to drop me off at.

“I’ll be attending, ahh, mass with you today,” my master explained. “But we shouldn’t show up together. People would, ahh, wonder who I was. So you’ll walk from here and I’ll drive. And I’ll drive back over here after mass and, ahh, meet you. Understand?”

Slowly I began to nod. But it still didn’t make sense to my drunken little brain. Why did he want to attend church with me?

“It, ahh, seems we have plenty of time before service begins,” he said, still grinning. He’d just parked his van in the small, deserted parking area and killed the engine. “I think I need a, ahh, blowjob. I’ve never been to church before and I feel a little tense.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt and waited for me to do the same. I did. And then I followed him into the back of his van. In the large space of the conversion van there were a few cardboard boxes, but most of the area was filled by an old, stained mattress lying on the floor. I’d noticed it before and he’d mentioned it to me the first time he’d fucked me, but I’d never actually been on it. My intoxicated state didn’t make it any easier for me to walk over it, but I managed to do so without falling. And when he reached the end of the mattress he stood off of it, onto the steel floor of the van, and began to unzip his slacks.

I obediently dropped to my knees at the edge of the creaking mattress. His back was practically pressed against the back-doors of his van as he grinned down at me. My cute lavender dress scrunched up around my knees as I knelt for him, but my expression was one of drunken delight as he fished out his cock from his pants. It felt so sexy to have this little dildo thing shoved up inside my cunt while I wore my Sunday best and knelt in front of my master, ready to receive his cock. When I pulled it out from his pants I sighed happily. Then I smiled up at him, past his gut, and gave him a stupid, immature expression I probably thought was sexy.

My mouth widened and accepted his member right away. I slurped around its head, trying to remember all the little techniques my master had taught me over the last couple of weeks. I licked the underside of his shaft and stroked its length with one tiny hand; I licked his hairy ball sack; I took as much of it as I could into my mouth until I was nearly gagging. All this seemed to please my master. He was sighing above me. And then suddenly something strange happened.

The rubber cock inside my cunt began to vibrate. It was barely descernable at first but quickly gained intensity. The inside of my pussy was suddenly rumbling from the vibrating object and the sensation was so delicious I felt myself building toward an orgasm. The surprised expression quickly left my face as I drunkenly groaned around the cock in my mouth. I could hear my master chuckling above me as I proceeded to blow him, lapping at his cock with all my might while my pussy shook and trembled and I neared an orgasm of my own.

And then as quickly as it had started the vibrations stopped. I choked a little in disappointment but continued to drag my lips back and forth on my master’s cock anyway like I was enjoying a popsicle. My heart was beating fast and I was hoping for the vibrating to return, but it didn’t. Just as I was beginning to wonder if I’d imagined the whole thing my master pulled his cock out of my mouth and told me to open wide and say, “Ahh!”

After stroking his slick cock a few times his cum shot into my awaiting mouth. His aim was perfect that morning: the first spurt went directly to the back of my throat and the rest of his seed landed on my pink tongue. When he was finished ejaculating I swallowed down his seed then panted a little with a dazed expression on my cute face.

He zipped up his pants, then, while I remained kneeling. My drunk, confused brain was trying to figure out what had happened between my legs. Had it been real? Or had the alcohol, combined with the sexiness of giving my master a blowjob right before church, confused me into thinking the thing shoved up my cunt had vibrated? I got my answer a moment later because just then the vibrating returned.

It was definitely real. I stared up at my master with a look of confusion and desire in my eyes.

He grinned down at me. “You, ahh, like that, little one?” he chided me. He was holding what appeared to be a tiny remote control in his hand and was clicking a button on it. The more he clicked it the faster the vibrations between my legs got. I found myself unable to reply as the vibrating intensified: I unconciously began squeezing my tiny boobs together through my dress as I swayed forward and back in front of him, my eyes closed as I got lost in the pleasure I was experiencing.

Once again the vibrations abruptly stopped. I gasped in frustration and snapped open my eyes. I gave my master a pleading look but he just smiled and said, “That’s enough for, ahh, now, little one. We’ll save the rest for, ahh, church. Speaking of which it’s time I explained the final part of your punishment.

“When you go to confession I want you to tell your Father DeGrazia that you’ve been having, ahh, impure thoughts about one of your brothers. I don’t care which one,” he explained as he gently pet my hair, “but you’re going to, ahh, say that you caught him jacking off earlier in the week. Tell him that, ahh, you haven’t been able to get the memory out of you head. Tell him that you, ahh, keep fantasizing about his cock, and that whenever you’re around him now you feel yourself getting, ahh, aroused. If he asks, tell him that you haven’t, ahh, masturbated about it but that you, ahh, really want to. Understand?”

My sexually frustrated and drunken mind completely understood, but was also completely mortified. I made a small whimpering sound but obediently nodded my head. The vibrations inside my cunt returned just then, on a very low setting, while my master helped me to my feet.

“Meanwhile I’ll be watching you throughout the service and using this little, ahh, toy to keep you hot and bothered,” he explained. “If you end up losing control it would be a most, ahh, interesting scene. Either way I’m sure you’ll never look at a pair of panties the same way ever again. Stupid sluts like you need to be taught through association. You’re like, ahh, Pavlov’s dog, little one.”

With that he threw open one of the back doors of the van and gestured for me to leave. I gave him one last pleading look before clumsily crawling out of the van. Once I was out he shut the door again and I watched the van rock as he walked back toward the driver’s seat. A moment later he was gone, leaving me alone in the small park I hated so much, shivering from the cold and trembling between my legs.

The walk to the church was a short, cold, confusing trip. My mind kept obsessing over the confession I was supposed to make and the slight vibration of the rubber cock inside my pussy. God it was going to be horrifying. God it was going to be embarrassing. God I wanted to cum so bad I could scream!

As I walked along the road leading to St. Joseph’s I kept wanting to touch myself but there was no way I could. There was too much traffic. And besides, it was hard enough to walk normally in my drunken state without having the distraction of a hand between my legs to further complicate things. The last time I’d been intoxicated I’d been a lot more drunk, sure, but I’d also been in the safety of my house and away from prying eyes. This time I kept worrying that someone might be able to tell I was drunk from the way I walked. Even though the cars speeding by me probably never gave me a second glance I kept worrying that they were watching my every move.

When I approached the church my worries intensified. I was about to be surrounded by people I knew, and people who knew me. Would they notice that I was acting strangely? I didn’t see how they possibly wouldn’t. My best bet, I decided, was to avoid people at all costs and say as little as possible if I did have to speak.

Thankfully the services were just about to begin as I entered St. Joseph’s. There wasn’t any time to mingle. Already the stragglers were filing inside and I was the last to enter. It was a relief to be out of the cold but I was growing more anxious by the moment anyway. Somewhere in the rows of pews my master was watching me file inside the building, no doubt ready to amplify the vibrations between my legs the second he saw me arrive. I was trying not to act strange, though, so rather than looking for him I sought out Mrs. Tubler and her two disobedient daughters instead. I found them in their usual place about halfway up the nave. They were sitting near the aisle. When I got there my neighbor smiled at me and scooted over so that I could have a seat. I smiled back at her but said nothing.

“Hannah’s being really fussy today, do you mind if she sits next to you?” Mrs. Tubler said just as the congregation began settling down.

I smiled and nodded again. Mrs. Tubler stood up, then, and told her youngest daughter to scoot over next to me. The girl complied with a look of annoyance on her face just as the organs began to play.

The call to worship occurred a moment later, and as I stood for the first hymn the vibrations between my legs intensified. I bit my lower lip for a moment then urged Hannah to stand up with a quiet, trembling voice. The girl rolled her eyes but complied. I held out the hymnal so that she could follow along; I knew the words by heart and sang quietly as the clergy entered and made their way, slowly, to the altar. The vibrations between my legs were making it extremely difficult for me to follow along with the song but I did my best to at least appear as though I was singing.

The vibrations didn’t intensify again until I was kneeling during the prayers of intercession. I nearly gasped as when I felt myself growing wetter, and of course just then Hannah began to fuss again. She didn’t want to kneel and her mom was distracted with her other daughter. As Fr. DeGrazia began the prayer for the state of Christ’s church I leaned back and whispered in a shaky voice, “Hannah, puh-please, it’s only a f-few more minutes!” The girl just ignored me, though, and stubbornly crossed her arms across her flat chest in defiance. She would start crying if I bugged her much more so I decided to leave her alone. Normally I would have thought of a way to get her to kneel but I had larger concerns at the moment. Chief among them was the fact I could feel my nipples starting to harden as my skin flushed with sexual energy. I closed my eyes and squeezed my hands together and tried to concentrate on Fr. DeGrazia’s voice.

After the prayer was done the children were dismissed. Volunteers walked down the aisle to gather everyone younger than 12 and lead them to the Children’s Workshop Room located elsewhere in the church. It wasn’t so long ago that I would have been among them. I was glad today that I wasn’t, though, since I didn’t think I could put up with Hannah or Polly anymore, not in the state I was in. Mrs. Tubler’s girls grudgingly exited the pew and after all the kids were gone the service continued.

The invitation followed and then the general confession, after which we stood up for another hymn. After that one of the clergy began to read the first of the scriptures from the lecturn and Mrs. Tubler chose that moment to ask me if anything was wrong.

“N-no,” I whispered back. The truth was everything was wrong! My cunt was trembling and I was desperate for an orgasm and the moment was fast approaching that I would have to make a humiliating confession to my priest. I couldn’t tell her any of that, though, so instead I just quietly said, “I’m… a l-little under the weather. B-but I’m fine.”

She gave me a look of concern. “You do you look flushed,” she said softly. “I hope you don’t have a fever!”

I gave her a weak smile then returned my attention to the reading. I was trying my best not to squirm in my seat but it was incredibly difficult to remain still. The vibrations in my cunt had intensified a little more and my drunken mind kept drifting off to the most horribly dirty thoughts it could conjure up, as if doing so would give me the release I desperately needed. It was a constant struggle to remind myself where I was and focus on the service, especially during the Lord’s Prayer. Though it was the first prayer I’d ever memorized, and though normally I could recite it backwards and forwards, I stumbled through it stupidly and breathlessly. Mrs. Tubler seemed to notice.

After a couple more hymns and Father DeGrazia’s sermon it came time for the Holy Eucharist. I gulped as I stood up, nervous as hell about having to walk up to the altar. Mrs. Tubler kept giving me a look of concern and I did my best to smile reassuringly at her, but it was hard. When it came time to follow her as our row was invited to the altar I felt so weak I was afraid I might faint. Thankfully the vibrations between my legs seemed to lessen a bit just then. I managed to garner up the strength to walk all the way to the altar and kneel for communion without incident.

My hands trembled as I cupped them in front of me and waited for one of the clergymen to give me the bread. When he reached me he said, “The Body of Christ, the bread of heaven,” and placed the wafer in my hands. I manged to squeak out my “amen” before putting the wafer in my mouth. Then the cup was offered to me and the clergyman said, “The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation,” and again I said “amen” but this time I nearly gasped the word. The rumbling between my legs had amplified again, more intensely than before. When I took my sip from the cup I almost spit out the blood of Christ as I supressed a gasp of pleasure.

Walking back to my seat was extremely difficult. I managed to do it somehow. For the rest of the service the vibrations remained on what I thought must be the rubber cock’s highest setting. It felt so incredibly good that if I had been alone I’m sure I would have came, but since I had to try and appear normal and certainly couldn’t touch myself or moan with desire I also had to fight against the temptation to cum.

Eventually Fr. DeGrazia performed the blessing and the congregation was dismissed. As the organs played and the church filled with the voices of the congregation, Mrs. Tubler put her hand on my forehead and said, “You feel warm, Becky! I’d better bring you home right away.”

“N-no,” I breathed. “Uhm, I’m f-fine. My d-dad is picking me up… uhm, to b-bring me to the doctor’s. He’s bring me to, uhm, the doctor’s. Uhm, and I n-need to make confession!”

She frowned at me but seemed to believe my lie. Then she thanked me for helping with Hannah, gave me a hug, and left.

I sat back down in my pew and waited for the church to empty. Not everyone made confession every Sunday, and Mrs. Tubler never did, but normally she would wait for me at the Children’s Workshop Room since she knew it was a requirement at my school that I make confession once a week. Thankfully I knew for a fact that my dad wouldn’t be home when she drove past my house on her way home. He was taking my brothers to another Brown’s game. Otherwise she would have seen his SUB parked in my driveway and realized I was lying about going to the doctor’s.

When the church was pretty much empty I finally spotted my master. He was seated in the back row on the other side of the aisle from me. The sight of him made me blush anew. It was a reminder of what I was about to do, a reminder that he was watching my every move and controlling the damnable toy inside my cunt. I turned away from him and tried to collect myself for a moment. Then I stood and walked towards the confessional booths and got in line.

Most of the people in front of me were other teen girls like myself who attended Catholic schools. Jody and Melissa were among them, and never before had I been so glad to be considered “off limits” socially. No one even looked at me as I stood there trembling all over and wringing my hands together anxiously. The line moved fairly quickly and when it was my turn to enter the booth I was nearly hyperventilating from both fear and sexual heat.

It was a relief to be off my feet when I knelt inside the confessional, but images of my master standing in front of me with his cock out earlier that morning flashed through my horny brain. It heightened my arousal. But I pushed those thoughts out of my head, especially when I heard the little window slide open. It was my cue to begin.

“F-forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” I breathed. Trying desperately to control my quivering voice I continued, “It was… I uhm… mean, it’s buh-been… seven days since my l-last confession.”

Father DeGrazia had a slight Italian accent even though he’d lived in Ohio for over 20 years. When he promised me absolution if I made a full and honest confession I barely heard his voice, though. Because as he spoke I found out that I hadn’t yet expereinced the toy inside my cunt’s highest setting. Now I was, though, and the intense vibrations were almost more than I could take.

“I, I…” I squeaked. I swallowed hard, then, and tried to focus. I had to get my punishment over, no matter how humiliating it was. “I… f-father, I have been having… imp… impure thoughts… about my uhm… bro-brother, Jason.”

“And what have the nature of these impure thoughts been, my child?” Fr. DeGrazia responded somberly.

My cunt began to squeeze around the little cock stuffed inside it, and though I wanted to I could no longer control the way it behaved. With each squeeze I gave the vibrating thing a ripple of pleasure emananted from my eager cunt and my body could no longer resist how good it felt. Somehow I managed to continue speaking, though. “I, uhm… on M-monday, I caught him… uhm… in the b-bathroom… he was, uhm, m-masturbating, F-father… and uhm, ever since I… I can’t st-stop thinking about h-h-h…”

“Calm down, my child,” Fr. DeGrazia said evenly. “Do not be ashamed in front of the Lord. You may confess any sin to Him and still enjoy his love and absolution. Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

I took his advice but it was more to keep myself from climaxing in front of the Lord than to help me confess my sins to Him. Finally I continued with my humiliating lie, “I can’t st-stop thinking about his… thing. His… p-penis. I keep… g-getting aroused, F-father… wh-whenever I see him, now. I f-fantasize about h-him every n-night…”

My face burned red with shame as I waited desperately for his response. He said, “Have you succumbed to temptation, child? Have you touched yourself impurely during these fantasies?”

“N-n-no!” I choked, almost too loudly. Each wave of pleasure coming from between my legs was growing more intense than the last and I suddenly realized I was going to have an orgasm whether I wanted it or not.

“Well, that is the Holy Mother giving you strength, my child,” Fr. DeGrazia assured me. “Impure thoughts like this, at your age, are quite normal. The fact that they are about your brother is the Devil’s attempt to fill you with such shame that…”

He continued talking but I could no longer hear him. My teeth were clenched together and I had tensed up every muscle in my body. I was about to experience a mind numbing orgasm and it was going to require every ounce of control my intoxicated brain could manifest to keep me from crying out when it happened.

Then it hit. And when I felt myself explode with pleasure I gasped despite my best efforts. Suddenly I turned that gasp into another one, a sobbing one, and I really did begin to cry. I was crying from embarrassment, crying from weakness, and crying most of all from the incredible orgasm I was experiencing inside the confessional booth.

“There, there, child,” Fr. DeGrazia said after letting me sob for a few seconds. “This needn’t upset you so much. The Lord is with you, and I absolve you in His name of your sin. From now on whenever the Devil tempts you into thinking such thoughts I want you to say five ‘Hail Mary’s’ and reflect on the Mother and the glory of the immaculate conception.”

“Th-thank you, f-father,” I managed to sniffle. I stood up, then, on weak legs. Then I exited the booth, not caring that my eyes were red and that tears were still rolling down my cheeks. I just wanted to get out of there quickly.

I was in a drunken post-orgasmic bliss as I walked back to the park. But I also felt numb all over, like a zombie, which prevented me from enjoying the release I’d just experienced and had needed so badly. I felt utterly embarrassed and didn’t want to think about what I’d just said to the man who had baptized me anymore than I wanted to think about the fact I’d just had an orgasm inside my lifelong church. When I got to the park I wobbled on unsteady legs toward my master’s van.

Once I got inside it my master chuckled at the sight of me. “You look like, ahh, Hell, Becky.”

I didn’t respond. Suddenly the vibrations between my legs stopped and I slumped back in my seat in relief.

When we got back to his house he wanted me to fuck him on top again. I felt like I had no energy for sex, especially in that particular position, but my master insisted that I needed more practice doing it. And I have to admit that once I was naked and straddling his fat, middle-aged body I did get my second wind. As I slid my cunt onto his shaft I knew right away that I was going to climax quickly, and somehow I found the energy to ride him like never before. I groaned in pain and pleasure as I fucked him for nearly twenty minutes. He played with my tits the entire time, and when all was said and done I managed to get off not once, but twice.

Afterwards he said to me, “You’re, ahh, almost ready, little one. By this time next week you should be far enough along in your, ahh, training that the real fun can begin.”

It was a foreboding statement but I was too exhausted to wonder what he meant by it. And as it turned out he was wrong, anyway. Because although neither of us knew it at the time he was only going to be my master for two more days.

In less than a week I would no longer be his slave.

 

CHAPTER 6

 

The last time I was fucked by my master as his slave occurred on the Wednesday that followed the lesson he gave me at my church.

As usual he wanted to fuck me as soon as I arrived at his house after school that day. And as usual I was more than ready for it. During class I had masturbated in the bathroom not once, not twice, but six times. Once an hour, as per my master’s newest rule. I wasn’t allowed to climax when I did this, but I did have to finger myself until I at least got wet. I’d been obeying this rule since Monday when he’d sent it to me in a text message and it had been an effective way of getting me really worked up him which, of course, was the point.

If any of my teachers or classmates realized how different my life had become since becoming a slave they didn’t show it. No one ever noticed, for instance, that I was constantly squirming during class at the start of the hour when I was still worked up from my bathroom masturbation sessions. No one noticed that whenever I took out my golden little “Sin Bible” and made an entry afterward. I wasn’t even trying to hide what was being done to me. The fact is that my activities were naturally well-hidden by my previous life. I’d always been a shy and socially inept sort of girl. I guess that’s what everyone still saw when they looked at me. I didn’t have to hide what I had become because it was all internal. On the outside, everyone still saw the “old” me.

That Wednesday, the last of my enslavement, I arrived at his house in my school uniform and blue autumn jacket feeling nervous and exhausted. I was nervous because he had warned me the day before that I was ready, now, to further my training. And I was exhausted because I had been up until 2am the night before trying to get caught up with homework. All the time I was spending with my master was making me fall behind on my school work and I had resolved the night before to get myself back on track. I’d spent most of the day tired and groggy as a result, but at least it had paid off. I ended up acing a History test and turning in an overdue report I had to do about Saint Thomas of Beckett.

Arriving at his house sure woke me up, though. The thought of having my training “furthered” was like a jolt of caffeine to my system. What did it mean? What was he going to do to me? As I walked into his garage and saw him waiting I realized it didn’t matter. I was his slave, his property. He’d proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt the Sunday before. Memories of that humiliation still made my stomach churn and the thought of doing anything that would upset him never entered my head.

He ushered me down into the basement right away and told me to undress, which I did, and then he put a dog collar around my neck. He’d been making me wear it since Monday, saying that it symbolized I was his pet. After he put the loose-fitting collar around my slender neck he kept his hands there. He was grinding his erection into the small of my back as I trembled in what can only be described as nerve-racking delight. It was always that way with him, you see. He made me nervous, I was terrified of being punished, but there came with those two negative emotions something far more mysterious: a delight, a certain pleasure in the idea that I was his property.

Finally he had enough of that, and he made me get on all fours on the floor in front of the couch. I bit my lower lip in anticipation as I listened to him disrobe behind me. When he got on his knees my body stiffened as I felt him spit on my dry slit. Whenever he spat on me like this I always filled up with shame. What kind of girl allowed a man to spit on her twat? But I had no choice. A moment later he was pressing his large member inside me and, without even thinking, I pressed back the way I knew he liked. Despite the painful entry I responded the way I knew he wanted.

As usual it hurt at first. He hadn’t bothered to let me get wet naturally, and only his saliva softened his rough entry. I cringed in pain as he pushed into me but soon my body began to react and my pussy moistened. I’d been wanting to cum all day, after all, and now I finally had a chance to do so. When he grabbed me from behind by the dog collar and pulled my head back I moaned with desire. It wasn’t long before there was nothing but pleasure from the doggy-style sex, and I cooed and panted in time with his thrusts. I begged him to fuck me harder, faster. He didn’t say a word as his cock pummeled my tender, barely 13-year-old pussy, though. Usually he liked to taunt and tease me, insult me and degrade me. Today all he wanted to do was get himself off.

I was in a trance, hypnotized by his domineering cock, and it wasn’t long before my slender arms could no longer hold my body up. I collapsed forward and the dog collar around my neck dug sharply into my skin. I began to suffocate as my master pulled back on the collar. It took every ounce of willpower I had to push my body back up so that I could breathe again. And once the oxygen flow returned a surprising orgasm racked my small frame. My master sensed this and I heard his laughter as my pussy gripped his cock as he slammed it in and out of me. He erupted inside me before I finished climaxing and he let my tiny body crumple to the floor without a word.

I lay there choking in air and recovering from my orgasm for quite a while. While I did that he stood up and left the room. I was still gasping when I remembered that he would expect me to add this latest fuck to my Book of Sins. Using all my strength I managed to stand, find my backpack, and pull out the golden hard-cover book.

I flipped through the pages of the book, stumbling sometimes and almost dropping it. I decided to sit cross-legged while I did this, making sure to face the stairway so my master would see me behaving obediently, without being told, as soon as he returned. I was naked except for the dog collar and his semen was leaking out of my sore pussy. With a shaky hand I finally entered the day’s date under the sin “Sex Outside of Marriage”. Then I flipped to the page for “Submitting in a Carnal Manner” and added a date there, too. It made my heart sink to see how many entries I’d already made on those two pages. It made my heart sink even further to realize how many other sins I had left to make any entries for.

“Flip to, ahh, ‘sodomy’,” my master said.

I hadn’t heard him return. He was standing at the bottom of the stairway with a beer in his hand. He’d pulled on a paid of boxer shorts but his fat, hairy body was otherwise naked. I nodded to him and tried to find the page for the sin he had just mentioned.

I knew what sodomy meant and for some reason I was having a hard time finding the correct page. Maybe my sub-concsious thought that if I couldn’t find it I wouldn’t have to do it. Because, as I sat there naked on the floor flipping through the gold book, I realized my master was going to do it to me. Why else would he have me find the page? After a few minutes I found it and looked up at him. He was standing in front of me with a grin on his fat face as he waited for me to write in his name and the day’s date below the bible quotes that described what a “sinful perversion” anal sex was. After I did I stared at my shaky handwriting and, with dread in my heart, realized that he had left a lot of space for me to make entries for this particular sin.

I’d sort of expected this day would come. In the three weeks I’d been his slave my master had never talked openly about anal sex but he’d dropped hints that we would try it. He’d shown me several adult sex scenes where women were getting fucked like that, for example, and sometimes when I was on top of him during sex he would slide his fingers over my little anal-hole. And, of course, the sin of sodomy was in the book he’d given me. But there were lots of sins in that book and I was still naive enough to think he’d never expect me to do all of them.

After handing him the book he nodded with approval at the entry. I’d written “With Master” and then the date. He grinned again and said, “Kneel there, then bend over and spread your, ahh, ass cheeks for me. I’ll be right back.”

Without any thought of disobedience I assumed the position on the leather couch. When I reached behind myself to grab my ass the way he’d instructed I realized that the training he always talked about was moving forward again. I still didn’t know what I was being trained for: he’d already broken my will, after all. It filled my heart with dread when the possibilities of what he ultimately intended for me floated through my mind. I would think of all those terrible sins in that book and wonder if he planned on having me commit them all. That thought made me shudder and my skin go cold as I breathed into the couch. I swallowed hard and took deep breaths as I waited for him to return, my fear and paranoia threatening to make me sick.

He returned to the couch a moment later and knelt down next to me. My face was pressed into the leather cushion but was turned toward him. He brushed my hair out of my eyes and grinned at my expressionless face. Then he showed me the object he’d just retrieved.

It was by far the smallest dildo he’d ever shown me, or at least the thinnest. The ones he usually used on me were at least as big as his cock. This one was much smaller than that, thankfully, even smaller than the one he’d made me wear into church. It was flesh colored, plastic, and probably about five inches long. The tip of it was a rounded point and it was definitely the least intimidating dildo he’d ever shown me. Of course, this one wouldn’t be going into my pussy.

“We’ll, ahh, use lube today,” he said. He’d already taken out a bottle and was applying some sort sort of liquid to the dildo while I watched. “Eventually all we’ll need is spit, but we’re going to, ahh, break you in slowly.

“Now,” he continued, “you need to relax. It’s going to make things more, ahh, difficult if you tense up. You need to relax your sphincter even though your instinct will be to, ahh, clench up. Understand?”

I nodded my head, causing my blond hair to fall across my eyes again. My master pushed away my hair and smiled. I was taking deep breaths, trying my best to follow his instructions as he began to apply some of the cold lubricant he’d put on the dildo to my scrunched up anal bud. It was impossible to relax my muscles no matter how hard I tried. Just feeling the liquid drip onto my ass made me tense. When he placed the tip of the dildo against my anus I felt my whole body tighten, my sphincter included. It felt so violating, so dirty, and these feelings made me gasp and turned my deep breaths into frantic panting. My master didn’t care. He was getting ready to slide the dildo into me whether I was relaxed or not. I clenched my eyes shut and waited for it.

“Ready?” he said.

I was just about to choke out a reply when I felt the object press against my anus.

The pain was intense. My sphincter resisted the invasive object as it pressed against my tight anal hole. Despite my master’s warnings I couldn’t relax: every fiber of my being felt this was wrong, that I had to resist it, that I could not allow the object inside me. I let go of my ass cheeks and squirmed forward, groaning as I did, tears coming to my eyes from the pain and embarrassment. My master used a free hand to push down between my shoulder blades, holding me in place. I cried some more as the pain intensified. But then, to my astonishment, the object finally popped inside me as though my anus had decided to just accept its fate.

I choked and groaned as my asshole seemed to suck the dildo inside. It was an incredible sensation. Just like that my anus seemed to welcome the object after fighting against it in such a desperate fashion. The pain was still there but there was also a bloated feeling of acceptance as the dildo pushed deeper inside me. I grunted in surprise as my body relaxed. My master started to chuckle. He said, “You, ahh, like that, don’t you?”

There was no way I could respond. I wouldn’t have known what to say. It wasn’t that I was enjoying the violation of my asshole the way I had grown to enjoy being fucked in the pussy. This was an entirely different experience, a mixture of pain and fullness and depravity. With each thrust of the dildo, either in or out, pain and shock ran up the length of my tiny body. My eyes were wide with confusion and when the orgasm hit it came out of nowhere, an even stealthier ambush than the one he’d given me only moments before. Unlike that prior climax, though, I could not lose myself to this one. My mind was wild during it, my body squirming on the sofa, my mouth squeaking like a mouse as my master pushed the object in and out of my ass faster than ever before. I was groaning through tears, ashamed of the orgasm, my brain desperate to deny its existence. It was similar to the first orgasm he ever gave me when he raped me in the back of his video store. It was incredible. It was exhilarating. But it was awful and humiliating to realize how slutty and depraved I was that I could cum under such circumstances.

My master, who knew my body as well as I did, knew I had climaxed. He waited for me to recover a bit then slowly pulled the object out of me. I grunted as it popped out of my tight little asshole and felt empty and relieved when it was gone. Then he said, “Now you’re, ahh, ready for the real thing, little one. Let’s go to the, ahh, bed.”

I began to sob. I’d already figured that the dildo was just a warm-up. The thought of his dick inside me, though, was too much. At that moment I was not his slave. I was just a 13-year-old child, terrified and humiliated beyond thinking. I didn’t think of disobeying, of course, and I even began to sit up like he told me to. But I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t bury my fear and shame even as my body, running on auto-pilot, started to follow him to the bed. I kept crying as I walked and my master seemed to understand that I had broken down emotionally. He pushed me back down onto the sofa without a word and said, “You’re, ahh, a mess. Calm down, slut. No use crying. An asshole ain’t no different than a, ahh, pussy, not for a slut like you. Understand?”

I couldn’t stop the tears but I nodded through them. He stared at me with anger in his eyes while we both waited for me to recover. After a couple of minutes I managed to get a hold of myself. He smiled after I stopped crying and the room was silent. He said, “Okay, let’s, ahh, go to the bed. You can cry some more, ahh, after.”

But there wouldn’t be anymore tears that day, at least not for him. While he gave me a hand and I started to stand up on wobbly legs there suddenly came a loud crashing sound from upstairs.

My master snapped his head up and so did I. Everything was silent for a moment and then I heard the distinct sound of footsteps. They were loud, heavy footsteps, and were followed by yet another crashing sound and more commotion.

“Wh-what’s that?” I asked with a choked whisper.

My master didn’t respond at first. He slowly let go of my hand and took a step away from the couch. Suddenly he looked extremely worried, and that worried me.

“M-master?” I asked in a whisper.

“Shh!” he whispered. “It’s … ahh, probably just my son.”

But he made no move to go and investigate. He just stood there with that worried expression on his face as he looked upward and tried to listen. After a moment or two I heard muffled voices, at least two, yelling something from the main floor of the house.

“Shit!” my master said. He didn’t look worried anymore. He looked scared. For the first time since I’d known him he looked frightened and that scared the shit out of me.

My heart pounded in my chest as he took another uncertain step toward the staircase. Then there was another crashing sound, followed by more yelling and heavy footsteps. From the creaking of the floorboards it sounded as though at least one person was moving toward the garage, which meant they were heading towards the entrance to the basement.

“Did I, ahh, lock the door?” my master hissed to himself. Then in a louder voice he gave me an accusatory look and said, “Did I, ahh, lock the fucking door?”

He sounded panicked and my sore eyes began to well up with tears again. “I-I d-don’t remember!” I said.

“Shit, ahh, shit!” he whispered. Then he pointed a trembling finger at me. “Stay there!”

He marched toward the stairway. He’d already dropped the dildo he’d been fucking my ass with and now he was getting his keys out of his pocket. He was shaking all over. I was on my knees, on top of the couch, watching with confusion. I sort of held myself and rocked back and forth as tears trickled down my face once again. I had no idea what was going on but I got the distinct impression that my master did. And his reaction to it was scaring me more than anything else.

He disappeared up the stairway and I could tell he was trying to walk quietly. From upstairs I could hear the muffled yells, the heavy footfalls, and the occasional crashing noise. It sounded like someone was tearing through his house, breaking things. Suddenly a possibility occurred to me. What if it was the police? My master was always showing me those videos of little girls getting fucked, and I knew full well that they were illegal. I’d even done an internet news search on the topic and had discovered that people were arrested every single day for just possessing what was called “child pornography”. What if he’d been caught somehow? What if this was a raid? If it was then they would find me, and I’d have to try and explain what I was doing there. Part of me was tempted to start getting dressed, but memories of my punishment for putting on a pair of panties when I’d known my dad was about to spank me prevented me from doing so. My master hadn’t told me to get dressed. He’d told me to stay where I was. Even if cops were going to storm into the room I was just too afraid of my master to do something he might consider defiant.

It sounded as though he had nearly reached the top of the stairs when suddenly I heard the door to the basement swing open. He hadn’t locked it after all.

“Motherfucker!” cried a voice, drawing out every syllabyl of the profane word. And then the same man yelled: “LEE! FUCKER’S OVER HERE!”

“Wait, ahh, wait a second,” I heard my master say. He sounded frantic. “Let’s talk upstairs, ahh, we can talk things–”

And then I heard a loud crunching sound, a muffled grunt of pain from my master, and a tumbling noise as he fell down the stairs.

When his fat, crumpled body finally appeared again it was rolling over itself. I gasped and put both of my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming. Tears streamed down my face at the sight of my powerful master in such a position. He was groaning in pain and clutching his right arm at the base the stairs. At least he was moving. At first I had thought he was dead.

I couldn’t see up the stairs from my position but I knew whoever had just caused my master to fall was now walking down the steps. I continued breathing through my nose as I shrieked into my hands. I was really crying and was so scared I felt like I might pee myself, but I couldn’t move. I just remained frozen as though whoever had just hurt my master would not discover me so long as I stayed still.

And then the man finally appeared.

He was incredibly tall, maybe 6’4″, and he was black. His hair was done in long corn-rolls and he had massively wide shoulders draped in a football jersey. He looked like he could even be a football player: his build was definitely athletic, with strong looking arms and a fit, muscular physique that was apparent despite his loose fitting jeans and shirt. He was standing over my master in an intimidating stance and suddenly I realized he was holding a gun in his left hand.

A gun. He had a gun. I nearly fainted when I saw it. Was my master about to die? Was I? Suddenly the thought of being raided by the cops didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

“Get on your fucking feet, motherfucker!” the black man said. He reached down and grabbed my master by his slick-backed hair. He hadn’t looked over in my direction, yet.

My master had no choice but to stand as the black monster in the orange and brown football jersey pulled him up by his hair. Just then I heard someone else descend the stairway. When my master was back on his feet he was clutching his arm and I could see that his nose had been broken. Blood was streaming out of it, dripping over his mouth and onto his hairy chest. He was trying to say something but the black man holding him wouldn’t let him speak.

“Where’s the fucking money, motherfuck?” the black man demanded. He was still clutching my master by his hair with his right hand but with his left he brought up the large, silver gun and placed it against my master’s fat double-chin. “Where’s our fuckin’ money!”

My master started to say in a nasally, terrified voice, “I, ahh, d-don’t, ahh,” but was cut off when the black demon who towered over him suddenly cracked the butt of his gun across my master’s face. The blow sent him tumbling into the room. The black man with the gun pursued his tumbling frame, his angry eyes still locked onto his body.

His partner, the one named Lee, was right behind him. He was also a big man, at least 6’1″, but he had a heavier, more compact build. While he appeared to be his partner’s equal in strength he was built more like a tank. His body was thick, squat, and hard. Like his partner he appeared to be in his mid-20’s but wore a black dress shirt, buttoned up all the way to his neck and without a tie. Instead he wore a golden necklace around his thick neck. His shirt wasn’t tucked into his loose black jeans but he wore golden cuff-links to clasp his shirt together around each wrist. He had a short afro, not corn-rolls like his partner, and the expression on his dark brown face wasn’t angry or happy.

“Ho-lee-shit,” the taller man said when he finally noticed me.

I gasped into my hands again, realizing that both of these black men were staring at my naked tits. The one named Lee only arched his dark eyebrows slightly, but the taller man was gawking. I uncovered my mouth suddenly and screamed piteously as I crossed my hands over my chest to cover my small breasts. Then I fell backwards on the couch, onto my butt, and kept my skinny white legs shut together. I squirmed my pubescent body back as I whimpered, and then farther back still until I reached the armrest. My master was still groaning at their feet from the pistol-whip he’d just received but neither of the intruders were paying him any attention. Both had their eyes on me. I felt for certain I was going to pee, then. I was more terrified than I had ever been in my life.

“Who’s the bitch?” the taller man said, looking down at my groaning master. He held his gun limply to his side but gave my master a kick in his fat gut when he didn’t respond right away. “This your daughter or somethin’, Daniel?”

Daniel. My master’s name was Daniel. I hadn’t known that before. Hearing his name for the first time actually made me stop crying for a moment.

Daniel. It was strange to finally hear my master’s name. It was shocking, in fact. I’ll never understand exactly why but hearing his name for the first time made him less ominous, less terrifying. Without a name he was a god. Without a name he was simply my master. But with a name? Well, he was a crumpled up fat man at the mercy of these two demons.

The thickly built, squat black man named Lee was walking over toward me while his partner remained with Daniel. I cringed at his approach and started to sob again. But then the man stopped and finally looked away from me. He knelt down to pick up something he’d found on the floor.

“Ty,” he said. He had an incredibly deep, emotionless voice. He had found the dildo my master had dropped.

Ty, the taller, skinner black man in the football jersey, looked over at his partner. When he saw what Lee was holding he started to laugh.

“Damn, you fuckin’ sick motherfuck! Was you gettin’ ready to use that on your little girl? Huh?” Ty said to my master.

Daniel, the man who had so dominated my life over the last three weeks, groaned in response. Then he spit blood onto the carpet and managed to croak, “She, ahh … isn’t my, ahh … daughter…”

“But she is your bitch?” Ty said to him in what was more or less a question. He was squatting down next to his body, the gun still held lazily in his left hand.

My master didn’t reply. He coughed, though, and spat up more blood. Both of the intruders had their focus on him again as I trembled and sobbed on the couch. After nearly a minute passed in silence I couldn’t help myself. I said, “Dan– uhm, Mmm, Master? Wh-what’s g-going on?”

Ty snapped his head in my direction. He was grinning when he said, “Master?”

“Master,” Lee echoed in his deep baratone. He didn’t look over at me, though.

“Why she calling you master, video man?” Ty asked, looking back down at Daniel.

“I’ll, ahh, have your m-money,” my master said, spitting up blood.

“The what?” Ty asked as though confused. His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he looked down at my master in an almost playful way.

“Oh, the money?” he said when my master only coughed up more blood. “What, you got it up in here? ’cause see, we was startin’ to think you must be dead or some shit. We wasn’t about to think you was holdin’ out. Was you holdin’ out?”

Again my master didn’t say anything. He just groaned and coughed blood. Ty continued, “See, I didn’t think you’d do that shit to the Four-Oh crew. When you stopped answering’ your phone I figured, ‘Shit, Danny must be fuckin’ dead!’. I even said to Lacile, ‘Shit, Danny’s dead, no other way to explain this!’. Because that’s the only reason I figured you wouldn’t answer your motherfuckin’ phone. So when my man Lee and I came on over today, we was expectin’ to see a for-sale sign or some shit in front of your house. Estate shit and whatnot. But there was no sign. And my man Lee here pointed out there’s no mail pilin’ up or nothin, so you’s must be home. And then Lee says to me, ‘Well he ain’t dead, ‘ and that got me to thinkin’. ‘Well, if he ain’t dead then he must just be avoidin’ us.’ I didn’t want to think that but it just must be true, am I right?”

“You right,” Lee said in his thick, deep voice.

My master spit again, just a little bit of blood this time, and began to sit up. Ty let him. And once he was upright on the floor, sitting on his fat butt and still clutching his arm, my master said, “The, ahh, insurance hasn’t come through. Any day now. Any day, ahh…”

Ty chuckled as he squatted like a baseball catcher in front of my master, his gun held gingerly in his left hand. He angled the barrel of the silver weapon at my master’s brutalized face and said, “See, yeah, but that’s not what I remember you sayin’. I remember you sayin’ somethin’ about a partner. What was that?”

“Old friend was gonna hook him up,” Lee entombed.

“Hook you up,” Ty agreed solemnly. His eyes were narrow, now, and menacing as he stared at my master. “I remember. You said your store’s policy was tight. Tight insurance, you said. There’d be no questions ’cause you had this partner on the inside. That’s the only reason we did the job before seein’ any Benjamin’s first.”

“The, ahh, cops, the fucking cops!” my master protested. “They, ahh, said there was a, ahh, possibility of arson … the, ahh, insurance won’t go through until … until the, cops clear it!”

Ty nodded, apparently sympathetic. For a moment I actually thought he was accepting my master’s explanation. But then he said in a quiet voice that was almost a whisper, “Yeah. I feel ya. Thing is, you said that wouldn’t fucking happen.” And then Ty formed a fist with his huge right hand and punched it into my master’s already broken nose.

I squeezed my knees against my chest and gasped.

What I wanted to do more than anything was to get dressed, grab my purse and backpack, and go home. I suddenly had no respect for Daniel anymore. He wasn’t my master. He was nobody’s master. In my childlike mind he went from God-like to pathetic in an instant. I knew now that I would never respect him the same way again. He was helpless and weak in front of Ty and Lee. He was getting beaten up silly and wasn’t even putting up a fight. The man who had been so dominating over me was practically a child in front of these men.

He was no master. His name was Daniel, and he was just a fat old man who had obviously fucked over the wrong couple of guys. Guys who were both strong and sure of themselves. Guys who were violent and merciless and indomitable.

They were real men, Ty and Lee.

Even though I realized this, though, I couldn’t move. All I could do was clutch my knees against my breasts and cry and sob and wait.

“You owe us three large, motherfucker!” Ty growled. “We don’t give two shits ’bout your insurance problems! Give us our fuckin’ money, right fuckin’ now, or we’ll assassinate your white ass.”

That’s when he paused, and seemed to remember me. He looked over at my terrified body and grinned. He said, “Or … shit, I guess we could take it out on her!”

My eyes widened. Ty locked his eyes back onto my naked and trembling body and Lee looked back over his shoulder, too. But there was no way, I foolishly thought, that Daniel would let them hurt me. Even though I didn’t respect him anymore I knew he still cherished me. He loved fucking me, he loved having me, and there was no way he’d throw me to the wolves to save his own hide. He’d think of something else, another way to pay these monsters off. That’s what I thought. That’s what I hoped.

Then I heard his words. And his voice seemed relieved, and thankful, even, when he said, “Yes, ahh, she’ll do whatever I say … you can both, ahh, fuck her. She, ahh, fucks like a pro! It won’t even be, ahh, rape … she’ll do whatever I say … she’ll want to do whatever I say…”

Upon hearing his words my face flushed red with shame and embarrassment. Not because of what Daniel said about me. But because he was right. Even though I no longer respected him and no longer saw him as my master, I knew I would whatever he wanted me to do. I was his property. Nothing would ever change that, I thought.

“Is that a fact?” Ty said slowly, still staring at me. I dropped my eyes and bit my lower lip under his gaze.

“Yes, ahh, yes!” my master groaned hopefully. “She’s, ahh, a horny little slut. She’s my, ahh, slave, you heard her call me, ahh, her master! She’ll do whatever I want her to do. You can fuck her or, ahh, I’ll make her fuck you! G-give me a few more weeks to get together the money, and she’ll, ahh, fuck you both…”

My master sounded so hopeful it made me sick. But Ty was ignoring him, now. His eyes were still locked on me even as I stared down at my toes. He stood back up and stepped toward me, brushing past his partner. His large silver gun dangled at his side as I cringed and whimpered.

“You’re tellin’ me this bitch’ll do anything you say?” the tall black man asked as though he didn’t believe it. He was asking my master with his words but it felt like he was asking me with his eyes. I looked back up and locked onto his and he appeared blurry through my tears. I was trembling all over but made no motion to move or escape as he got closer to me.

“Anything,” Daniel said, sounding pathetically optimistic now. “Just, ahh, name it.”

Ty reached the edge of the couch, right next to me. Then he knelt. He studied my pale, nubile body for a long moment and then looked back into my terrified eyes. Then he said, “Tell her she’s ours, then, video-man.”

The room grew silent and I felt my nipples getting hard against my knees.

“Ahh,” Daniel finally groaned. “I, ahh, can … tell her to do whatever you, ahh, want. Tell me what you want from her and I’ll, ahh, tell her to do it!”

Ty snapped his head in Daniel’s direction. “Tell her she’s ours now, motherfucker! If she’s your fuckin’ slave consider this a motherfuckin’ emancipation! Tell he she’s ours or you’re a fuckin’ dead man!”

Lee was closer to the beaten and bloody man, now, and as he took another step in Daniel’s direction I noticed that he had produced a gun from his loose fitting black jeans. My master saw this as well and the optimistic expression he’d had a moment before disappeared. I was still holding my knees against my chest, doing my best to hide my tits, but it wasn’t even really necessary. The black menace kneeling next to me, Ty, only ever looked into my eyes or at my master.

“Yes, ahh, yes,” my master said.

Time slowed down for me as I registered his words. “She’s yours,” he breathed painfully after a pause. “Ahh, Becky … you’re their, ahh … you’re their property from, ahh, now on.”

And so it was that the man who had been my master gave me up in lieu of a $3,000 dollar debt.

Without thinking, I nodded. My nod was to Ty and he took it for what it was. Acceptance.

“Get dressed,” he said to me. “We’re leavin’.”

Being told what to do was apparently what my terrified mind had been waiting for. Without a word or any thought of hesitation I stood up from the couch, extremely aware of the fact that both Ty and Lee were watching me. I wasn’t crying anymore but I wasn’t smiling, either, as I gathered up my clothes. My eyes briefly locked with my former master’s while I searched for my shirt, but I quickly looked away. Looking at him made me feel sick.

“You just bought yourself another three weeks,” I heard Ty explaining to him as I dressed. “Next time we visit you best have our fuckin’ money. If you don’t, all the white bitches in world won’t be able to save your ass.”

“In the world,” I heard Lee agree.

When I finished putting my bra on the two men were done threatening Daniel. They turned and watched as I pulled on my socks and then buttoned up my shirt. I didn’t look back at them but I could feel their eyes on me. Finally my shoes and coat were on, too, and after slinging my book-bag over one shoulder and retrieving my purse I finally looked at Ty again to await further instruction.

“Alright, come on, bitch,” he said to me.

I followed him up the steps without so much as a look back at my former master. He was probably going to have to go the hospital, I thought, but I didn’t care. It didn’t make me happy that he’d been hurt so bad, but it didn’t make me sad, either. He wasn’t my master anymore. He was nothing to me now. He was just a man who had tried to own me but who had been too weak to keep me.

His name was Daniel, I thought. It occurred to me that he would never be my master again. In the back of my mind I began to hope that I would never be anyone’s slave again, either.

Ty was quick to disprove that notion. As soon as we got to the partially rusted-out Cadillac parked in the driveway I threw my bag and purse into the big backseat and then sat between Lee, who was driving, and Ty, who was riding shotgun. And when the Caddy rumbled out onto the residential road Ty explained his plan to his partner.

“The bitch’ll be our ho till video-man comes up with the green,” he said. He was talking about me as though I wasn’t there, which was fine with me. I was staring down into my lap, nervous and confused. My body was on automatic pilot: I was so scared that the only thing I could do was obey, the way my master and, before him, my father had taught me to be obedient. It was how my fragile psyche was dealing with the situation.

“Maurice might be pissed,” Lee said.

“Nah, shit no, man,” Ty said. He clapped his large black hand onto my right thigh. I barely noticed. He went on, “Maurice likes little snow-bunnies. We’ll have fun with her ’till we gets our money, then give her back to video-man. Trust me, that fat motherfucker’ll come up with the green real fast. He’s gonna wants this one back, I’m sure of that.”

“I dunno, man,” Lee said after a pause. “White suburban chick gone missing. Risky fucking shit.”

“Damn, boy! You worry too much,” Ty laughed. To me he said, “Anyone gonna notice you gone? Huh? Besides your fuckin’ ‘master’, I mean?”

Without a thought I whispered, “My dad. My school. My brothers…”

“Shit!” Ty grumbled. “You means you weren’t living with that fat motherfucker? Well, when’s you usually get home?”

“N-nine,” I breathed.

“See?” Lee said.

“No big thing, no big thing,” Ty said, sounding angry. “So we gets her home by nine. She ain’t gonna tell no one ’bout this shit, are you?”

“No,” I whispered. I meant it, too. After all, who would I tell? My dad? How would I explain that I’d been with a man his age, a man I called master, and that I’d been traded to a couple of black guys?

“See, man? She a good little ho,” Ty smiled. “And she’ll be our good little ho, least till video-man comes up with the cash. I heard about this shit before, crazy white bitches who want to be little sex slaves. Ain’t that right, bitch? You liked being fat-man’s little sex toy, huh?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, not really hearing his exact question but knowing that for any question the words, “Yes, Sir”, would be correct.

He squeezed my leg. I barely felt it because I was numb all over. My eyes were squarely in my lap, staring into my folded hands.

“Yeah, you gonna likes bein’ with the four-oh crew,” he said as he squeezed my thigh and slid up a little bit beneath my skirt. “You our little bitch now. You gonna love rolling with the four-oh, little snow bunny.”

I wasn’t sure of that. I wasn’t sure of anything. As we got onto the freeway I realized I was sure of only three things at the moment. First, that I was being driven by two strange men into the city. Second, I realized that I would do whatever I was told. And, finally, I realized that just because Daniel was no longer my master didn’t mean I was no longer a slave. I would forever be a slave and nothing could ever, ever change that.

The millionth tear of the day trickled down my face but I didn’t make a sound. In the distance I could see the rather unimpressive skyline of Cleveland and all the buildings looked like tombstones to me. It didn’t feel like we were driving toward a city. It felt like we were driving toward a graveyard. More specifically, it felt like I was being driven to my grave.

I never made a sound the rest of the way there.

 

CHAPTER 7

 

Most of the drive into the city was made with Ty talking, Lee driving, and me gazing out the window. My thoughts were a total mess. I felt halfway between kidnapped and stolen, halfway between relieved and terrified. Aside from leaving his hand on my thigh and occasionally giving me a squeeze, Ty hardly acknowledged my presence. He asked me few questions but talked mostly with Lee or with people on his cell phone. This gave me time to consider my predicament.

I had no idea what these men were going to do with me except that they had mentioned making sure I was home no later than 9pm. That, at least, was reassuring. What they did with me between now and then was the big mystery. I was pretty sure I would be having sex with either one or both of them. That didn’t really bother me. Sure, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but I figured that if that’s all that happened I would end the day on top.

I was no longer a slave. I was free to be myself again. At one point during the drive I even thought about showing my Book of Sins to Father DeGrazia the next day so that I could ask for absolution for all the terrible things I’d been doing recently. I don’t think I ever considered this too seriously, but I distinctly recall the thought entering my head.

Being freed from Daniel was like popping a balloon. Over the last several weeks I had been blown up with ideas and convictions that I really was his property, that I really was at his mercy. Having Ty and Lee so easily take me from him, though, was like having a needle instantly blow all those ideas and convictions out of me. I realized during the drive that Daniel’s hold on me had been all smoke and mirrors. He’d never really been my master. I’d simply allowed myself to be his slave. Now, because of Ty and Lee, I was free.

When the large Cadillac pulled off the freeway and began making its way through the streets of a rather run-down area of Cleveland I began to think of the men as my saviors. Sure, they’d probably want to have sex with me before the day was through. And yes, I was smart enough to realize they might want more than just sex. But my immature mind decided they deserved whatever they wanted. They’d earned it. I began to think of them as my liberators and by the time we pulled onto Fourth Street I even began to relax and come out of my daze.

“None of these motherfuckers is answering their phones,” Ty complained as he stared at his cell. “Where’s everyone at?”

“Think there’s something goin’ on at B&E’s,” Lee said in his usual deep, to-the-point voice.

The street we were driving down was a narrow residential road in a kind of neighborhood I’d only ever seen on TV before. The cracked and potholed road was lined with cars, some of which looked like they hadn’t been driven in years. The houses didn’t look like they were in much better condition. Their yards were short and few were mowed; the sidewalks were cracked and in some places littered with junk; and most of the houses looked extremely old and in need of paint. The separation between these cheap houses also gave the feeling of crampness. Only a narrow alley separated neighbor from neighbor. It was a far cry from the suburban neighborhood I lived in.

Before reaching our destination I counted at least three boarded-up houses and one burnt-out house, too. At first blush the entire neighborhood felt dead. Dead and cramped. But then I began to notice the suspicious eyes peering out of cracked windows. I saw the groups of people gathered on their porches. Sometimes men, sometimes women, but these people were always black. More than anything that made me feel like I was an outsider in a foreign land. I hadn’t seen another white person since Lee had pulled off of the freeway. I’ll admit, that made me nervous.

Lee pulled the Cadillac up in front of a house with the address “1708”. It looked like no one was home. Ty turned to me, squeezed my leg, and said, “Welcome to my crib, snow-bunny. This here is one of the unofficial headquarters for us Four-Oh. We gonna head on over to Lee’s in a sec, but first I gots to check in on my baby’s momma. You just keep your mouth shut and don’t say nothing, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” I said softly.

I followed him out of the Cadillac and walked with my eyes down toward the front door of the small house. He knocked once, very loudly, then turned to me and grinned. After a pause he knocked twice more and waited. While we did my eyes were drawn over to the neighboring house where they instantly met the disapproving gaze of a fat black woman smoking a cigarette on her porch. She shook her head slightly and I felt my face flush red. I quickly darted my eyes back down to my dress shoes.

Just then the porch light came on. It must have been some kind of “all clear” sign because Ty immediately opened the door. I followed him and Lee inside to a small family room. A skinny black man was standing there, watching us as we entered. He seemed suspicious of me but it was hard to tell since he was wearing dark sunglasses. Once the three of us were inside the skinny man shut the door.

I glanced around the room. There was a TV, a coffee table lined with plastic baggies and white powder, a sofa, and two recliners. All of the furniture looked older than me except for the TV. That, at least, was nice. I also noticed an X-Box video game console, a baby’s crib, and a stereo system.

Like the neighborhood it resided in the room felt cramped. Also, it was a total mess. There were children toys everywhere, the stench of cigarette smoke, and the TV was blaring some kind of cartoon. From the bathroom across the room I heard a woman scream, “Charlene that you? Get yo’ lazy ass in here!”

“It’s me,” Ty called back as he stepped over a Fisher Price tricycle. “Charlene ain’t here yet?”

“She sure ain’t!” the woman said. “You’re gonna have to watch Lemel till she is ’cause I’m gonna be late fo’ work again. You best tell your sister not to expect any mo’ money if she can’t start getting that brat over here…”

The woman’s angry voice trailed off after she stepped out of the bathroom. She was staring at me. She looked over at Ty, then back at me as though I was some kind of cockroach. At that moment I was extremely glad she was across the room. I felt hatred in her eyes. Unconsciously I stepped closer to Lee as though his width would hide me from this woman.

I knew right away she was the “baby mama” Ty had mentioned. On one hip she was holding a little boy, probably about 2-years-old or so, and with her free hand she was smoking a cigarette. If she hadn’t had such an angry expression on her face she would have probably been rather attractive, I thought. She was in her mid-20’s, had dark chocolate skin, and a very voluptuous figure. She could probably stand to lose a few pounds but she was anything but fat. In fact, her large breasts and wide hips actually made her gaudy, leopard-skin outfit appear sexy.

“Who this?” she said, staring daggers in my direction.

“Never mind ‘who this’,” Ty said angrily. He took out his cell phone and made a call. “I’m gonna find out where my fuckin’ niece is. I don’t gots time to watch Lemel today. Gots things to do.”

The woman glared at me for a long moment and then looked back at Ty. “Well I’m goin’,” she said. “Someone’s got to be makin’ some money ’round here.”

She started to march forward toward Ty as if she was going to hand their child off to him but stopped the moment he put up his finger. He had his cell pressed against his ear. The room was silent and I stared at my feet. I began to tremble. The woman was close now and I could sense she was about to say something to me. Then the door opened up behind us and when I looked I saw a young girl, about my age, enter the house.

“Sorry Aunt Lacile,” the girl said as she rushed into the room, “I got caught up with homework and…”

The girl stopped with her excuses when she saw me. “Who’re you?” she said. She was giving me a nasty look and though I wasn’t much younger than her I immediately felt intimidated. For a moment the room grew quiet again except for the blaring television. Then it seemed like everyone was talking at once, except for me and Lee, that is.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Ty finally screamed. Lacile and Charlene grew quiet and he shoved his cell phone into his pocket, grabbed the toddler from the woman, and then marched over to the girl and shoved him at her. “Now you’re here, now you get busy doin’ what you get paid for.

“And you,” he said turning back to Lacile, “You best get to work, and stop gettin’ up all in my bidness!”

The woman, looking furious, marched over to her purse. She grabbed it, threw it over he shoulder, and marched past me and everyone else until she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

Ty shook his head. Then he said, “Fuck this. Come on.”

“Where ya’ll goin’?” the skinny man wearing sunglasses said.

“Over to Lee’s, not that it’s your fuckin’ business,” Ty snapped.

“Maurice was here,” the man said. “Told me he was lookin’ for ya.”

“He fuckin’ ain’t answerin’ his phone,” Ty fumed. “What’d he say?”

“Said to call his new phone ASAP. Left a number. Here.”

Ty grumbled but took the matchbook he was given and stormed off toward the kitchen. Wanting to remain close to at least one of my “liberators” I followed Lee to the sofa. I sat down next to him as he pulled a strange glass pipe off the coffee table and began to pack it with what I thought was tobacco.

“What’s her thang?”

Lee shrugged as he lit a lighter over the bowl of the pipe. After inhaling he answered the sunglass-man.
”She from Fat-Man-Dan,” Lee said, gesturing in my direction. “Ty thought she was worth a three week extension.”

Sunglass-man chuckled then knelt down next to the coffee table. He started scooping up spoon-fulls of white power and dropping them onto an electronic scale. He said, “That’s why he’s my boy. Always thinkin’ with his dick.”

Lee shared a grin then exhaled a long puff of smoke. Just then Ty came back into the room.

“They’re at B&E’s,” Ty said. “That’s where everyone’s at. It’s Destiny’s fuckin’ initiation and you forgot all about it.”

His tone was accusatory and he was looking at Lee, but it was the sunglass-wearer who answered him. “Yeah man, you forget? I’m the one who shouldn’t be forgettin’. You can still get over there but I has to stay and bag all these nickels and shit. Least all you gotta do is walk down the block.”

Ty looked over at him, then back to Lee. He shook his head. “Look, man, fuck that. Not my job to remember that shit. Come on, Lee. If we roll out now we won’t be late.”

“Ain’t starting till 5:30,” Lee said after blowing out a long cloud of smoke. It didn’t smell like a cigarette. “No need to use my ride.”

I was halfway out of my seat but settled back in when I sensed there was about to be an argument.

Ty glared at Lee in the ensuing silence but he was the one to look away after a long pause. He closed his eyes in a way that indicated he’d had this argument with Lee before. He said, “Man, ain’t gonna take up an ounce of gas.”

“That not the point,” Lee said with a hard voice. His eye-lids were half-shut but I saw a passionate fury in them just the same. “Point is, I don’t drive my ride ‘less I got to and right now I don’t got to. Not when we can take a ten minute walk.”

Ty started laughing in annoyance. He shook his head in resignation and said, “Motherfucker, motherfucker. You know, if six months ago you’d asked me, ‘Ty, think you’ll ever live to see a green-fuckin’ tree-huggin’ nigga in your life?’ I’d’ve laughed till I bled. Yet there you is.”

Lee shook his shoulders in a dismissive way. He said, “I’m keepin’ my carbon-footprint at a minimum. Nothin’ tree-huggin’ ’bout that.”

The term “carbon-footprint” jogged a memory. I had heard it before in a movie a teacher had made us watch in school. I couldn’t quite place it but then I didn’t need to. Ty gave me the answer when he said, “You never should’ve seen that ‘Inconvenient Truth’ movie. I ever see that Gore motherfucker on the street I’m gonna cap him for both of us.”

Despite everything else I couldn’t help but smile.

 

The walk down to the bar called “B&E’s” took about ten minutes, just as Lee had predicted. I sort of walked behind the two large black men all the way there, trying not to acknowledge the stares I was getting from random people on the street. I felt safe with Ty and Lee in front of me but I was still incredibly nervous because I felt like such an outsider in this neighborhood. I was really wishing I wasn’t wearing my school uniform. It made me feel even more out of place. Not that a white, blond haired child in a neighborhood like that wouldn’t be out of place anyway, but the Catholic School-girl look made things worse.

When we reached the bar I noticed that it was on the corner of Fourth Street and O Street. We had to cross O to get there but traffic was light and we didn’t even wait for the crossing signal. As I walked quickly behind my two liberators I noticed that across the street from the bar was an abandoned and boarded up gas station where a group of teenage boys were loitering about. I saw one of them nod to Ty, who nodded back, but there was no other communication with the group. As soon as we were across the street we walked through a half-full parking lot and entered a squat, windowless building.

Once inside I was inundated with loud rap music, the sounds of some men cheering, and the thick stench of strange smelling smoke. Almost immediately an older black man with graying hair greeted Ty and Lee. He didn’t notice me at first but he had a wide, bright-white smile for my two liberators. He said, “As I live and breathe, Ty and Lee! I knew you niggas would show. Ol’ Stern owes me a five-spot.”

“Yeah, we had to go take care of some bidness and Lee here forgot it was Destiny’s day. How’s it going, B?” Ty said as he clasped the older man’s hand and gave him a pat on the back the way men so often do when they need to hug each other but still look tough.

“It goes,” the man named B said. His eyes finally spotted me standing between and behind the two other black men. His smiling face turned into a look of caution as he said, “Now, what’s this you brought with you, Ty?”

“This? Oh, this here’s the Four-Oh’s new little snow bunny,” he grinned. “I needs to talk to Maurice ’bout it. Where he at?”

B stroked his clean shaved chin as if considering how to reply. He said, “You know outsiders ain’t allowed at initiations. Maurice okay’d this?”

Ty nodded. “Shit, nigga! ‘course he did. I just talked to ‘im ten minutes ago. Where he at?”

The old man held up his hands as if to say it was none of his business. He said, “At the bar with the others, I reckon. Destiny’s already rolled the dice and she’s stripping for the boys. Girls oughta be along any minute for the next phase, ‘long with the other stragglers. Shit, wish I could join and watch but someone’s gotta be at the door ’till everyone arrives. Maurice told me not to lock up ’til 5:30.”

Ty gave Lee an annoyed look. “So we missed the beginning? Shit, told you we shoulda driven. What she roll, B?”

“Don’t know,” B said. “From the fellas’ reaction, something low, I think.”

Ty nodded, told B to watch his ass, then nodded to Lee. The squatter, thicker black man lit up a filter-less cigarette and followed as Ty led us through a door to the main bar. I was two steps behind and once through the door the music and sounds of men cheering was even louder.

Along the left side of the room was a long bar where nearly a dozen black men of varying ages were seated, their backs turned to the bar so they could look out into the main room. I immediately saw where their eyes were fixated. In the center of the room a block of four square tables had been pushed together to create a make-shift stage. On this stage an attractive young black woman stood, shaking her body to the music in an amateurish dance. She was half-naked and that made my face flush red and a jolt of forbidden excitement shoot up my spine. Her back was to us but I could tell she was probably in her early twenties. She had a fit, chocolate colored body and her ass was perfectly round and toned. For a moment I thought I’d entered a strip-club, but then I realized that a strip club would probably have a real stage for women to dance on.

The men at the bar were pretty well composed, sipping beers and smoking cigarettes or cigars. By and large they were older and more restrained than the rest of the people in the room. Between them and the stage a younger, more vocal group of black men were cheering the half-naked woman on. When she turned around to show off her ass to them I finally got a look at her face and decided she was definitely in her early 20’s. She had thick, full lips painted with lavender lipstick, cat-like brown eyes, and long black hair that didn’t look fake. Her breasts had to be d-cups, I figured, but I couldn’t tell if they were real or not. She was smiling as she stripped the rest of her clothing off for her audience, pulling down a tight-fitting nylon skirt and kicking it off her bare feet to the cheers of the crowd.

Including me and my liberators there were probably about 30 people in the room. At first their voices filled the room but as Ty led me up to the middle of the bar everyone grew quiet. A bunch of the men took their eyes off of the woman I assumed was Destiny and looked at me instead. I felt my face blush a deeper shade of red.

The man Ty walked up to was a well dressed slender black man wearing round, rimless glasses in front of dark, penetrating eyes. If I’d seen him on the street I would have assumed he was some sort of professor or other kind of intellectual. Unlike most of the men in the room he had good posture, subdued but professional looking clothing, and the sort of poise that came from an inner strength rather than feigned bravado. His head was clean shaved and he appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties. He stood up as soon as the three of us were in front of him.

He shook Ty’s hand after nodding to Lee and then locked his eyes on me. I stared down at my shoes, nervous beneath his stare.

“So,” he said, his voice surprisingly deep given his size. “This is Daniel’s ‘collateral’ you told me about on the phone. What’s her name?”

Ty looked at me. As he struggled to remember my name, if he’d ever even known it, someone turned down the music in the room. Everyone wanted to hear this particular conversation. The room was quiet all of a sudden. It wasn’t everyday that a 13-year-old white girl in a Catholic school uniform walked into the bar, apparently.

“Becky,” I finally whispered when Ty couldn’t answer.

The bald man nodded to me then looked back to Ty. “I send you to collect a debt and you bring back an outsider. A white girl, no less. I’ll be honest with you, Ty. I’m seriously questioning your judgment on this one.”

Ty’s eyes widened and he held his hands up. “Nigga-what? Come’on, Maurice, you’re the one just told me to bring ‘er here…”

“Because the damage had already been done,” Maurice replied. His voice was hard and I saw a terrifying evil in his eyes. It made me shudder and once again I looked down at my feet. “You call me from your house, the girl already with you. You brought her to a place where we cut a quarter of our weekly supply. Your house, Ty, a place I thought you’d be smart enough to keep outsiders away from. And a white girl from the suburbs, no less? Again, I tell you. I’m seriously questioning your judgment.”

Silence followed. Someone in the room, someone near the back, said something like, “Stupid nigger got lost is all.” Some quiet laughter followed and I saw Ty’s eyes narrow. But that was all he did. I could tell he was afraid of Maurice. His sudden change in demeanor proved it.

“Like I said on the cell, this ain’t no normal white girl. The vid-man gave her to us. She was his slave, get it?” he said, his voice just shy of sounding desperate. “She even admitted she was his slave! He tells us he don’t have the money, take her instead. I tell him he gets another three weeks. Figure we get a little snow-bunny in return, ya know?”

Maurice seemed to consider this for a moment. He turned to Lee and said, “Do you agree with your partner? Is that exactly what happened?”

Lee shrugged. I noticed just then that his half-closed eyes looked bloodshot but that he didn’t seem worried at all. He said, “Mo’ or less.”

Now Maurice looked squarely at me. His gaze chilled me to the bone and I looked away again.

“Becky,” he said. He went down on one knee in front of me. He was so tall that he only barely had to look up to gaze into my eyes. “It’s important that you tell me now why you were Daniel’s slave, if in fact you were. Tell me in great detail. Tell me what he made you do and why you agreed to do it.”

The room seemed to catch its breath. So did I. He was talking to me as though I was a little kid and at that moment I felt more like one than perhaps ever before. He was trying to sound kind, but I could still see the dead-eyed look of evil in his eyes behind his round glasses.

He was worried that I’d go to the cops later. He was thinking ahead in a way that Ty hadn’t been when he’d “liberated” me earlier. I also knew that neither Ty nor Lee would be able to protect me from him. I knew all this in my gut. My response to his question would determine my fate and I felt my knees begin to shake.

“It’s true, I was my master’s … uhm, Daniel’s slave,” I said in my soft, meek voice. I swallowed and tried to look into his eyes as I continued. “He made me do … lots of stuff. Like, sex stuff, mostly. Sometimes he made me go out and do … other things. For punishment, I guess. When I was bad. I, uhm … is that what you wanted to know?”

Maurice gave me a dead, cold stare. He said, “Why were you his slave, Becky? What did Daniel have on you to force such a pretty child of such obvious means into becoming his sex slave? Was he blackmailing you somehow? Was he paying you with money? Or drugs, perhaps?”

I shook my head and felt my eyes begin to well up with tears. I said, “N-no … he just … made me, you know? If I uhm, you know, if I … disobeyed him he’d … punish me. When I was bad, like I said.”

He nodded as though he understood. He said, “I want you to do two things for me, Becky. First, I want you to stand up straight. Your current posture is unacceptable.”

Without a word I straightened my spine and threw my shoulders back the way the nuns at school were always telling us girls to do. My nervousness had made me slouch so the sudden change gave me at least another inch in height.

Maurice nodded at my new position and said, “Now I want you to put your hands behind your back and grasp each wrist. You will not let go unless I give you permission.”

I did as I was told. Suddenly a woman behind me yelled out, “What the fuck is this, Moore? Ain’t I supposed to finish strippin’?”

I didn’t turn to look but I knew it was Destiny’s eyes that Maurice’s locked onto over my shoulder. The woman was angry that everyone was paying attention to me, my liberators, and Maurice instead of her. I could feel her staring daggers into my back.

“Tell me, my dear,” Maurice said to her over my shoulder, “how do you plan on continuing to strip when you’re already as naked as the day you were born? Show me that and not only will your initiation be complete but I’ll give you the keys to my BMW, too.”

There was laughter in the room, but once it passed everyone was silent again, including Destiny. I was still clasping my wrists behind my back, my breath heavy and my eyes locked onto Maurice’s face. When his eyes returned to mine he said, “How old are you, Becky?”

“Thirteen, sir,” I said.

He smiled. “Thirteen. A teenager, at least. I had feared you might be younger.

“So tell me,” he continued with a voice that once again was commanding, “what would you do if I began to unbutton your shirt right now, with all these men watching?”

I gulped and darted my eyes around the smoke filled room. It felt like there were butterflies in my stomach and despite the scariness of the situation, or perhaps because of it, I could feel my pussy begin to moisten. I said, “I’d, uhm … let you, sir.”

“See?” Ty, who had been silent for so long I’d forgotten he was there, said. “She’s a fuckin’ freaky slut! I hear about white bitches like her all the time. She’s ours now, Moore, our li’l slave. Don’t go lettin’ her age worry you nothing, she’ll be–”

“Enough!” Maurice roared. He stood up and looked squarely at Ty. “Her age isn’t what concerns me. Her obedience does. Her ability to keep a secret is what matters. She saw your home, Ty. She saw Lee’s car. Because of you and your actions she has become a liability for all of us.”

“But she’s our slave!” Ty said with an urgency in his voice. “She just done told you–”

This time Maurice responded with a fist to Ty’s face. The tall, football jersey wearing black man who had so terrified my master went down like a dropped sack of potatoes. I shrieked out loud while others in the room cheered.

“She is no one’s slave,” Maurice said to Ty, who was barely moving on the ground. “In case you forget, our people suffered slavedom in this land for centuries. The Four Oh crew, my crew, will not enslave another. Slavery is the white-man’s evil, not ours. Do you understand?”

A few minutes of silence passed before I finally heard Ty gurgle his agreement through a bloody nose. There were nods of approval from the crowd, too. As for me, I felt a twinge of disappointment that I couldn’t ignore. I’d actually been hoping this alpha-male among alpha-males, Maurice, would become my new master. But he didn’t want to be my master. I should have been happy but instead I was sad. It was confusing as hell.

“Getting back to you,” he said, his voice softening as he once again took a knee, “You would let me unbutton your shirt? You would not resist in any way?”

Trying to keep my trembling chin under control I eventually said, “Y-y-yes, s-s-ir…”

He reached over to me and I closed my eyes as he unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. My pussy shuddered in delight even as my face burned red. I knew that every man in the room was hoping that Maurice was going to strip me naked. I knew that I was hoping the same thing, too. When his hands trailed down to the next button I bit my lower lip in anticipation but then he paused. Without unclasping the button he said, “You really are this submissive, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. My girly voice had become breathy and a little wanton, I realized. I didn’t care.

He sighed in response and then pulled his hands back. He wasn’t going to undo the next button after all.

He gripped Ty by the wrist in a show of friendship and helped my liberator to his feet. Although blood trickled down his nose he seemed to ignore it. He nodded to Maurice in respect and then, like everyone else in the room, he looked back at me. Maurice did the same and said, “Have you ever heard the story of the Fox and Hen?”

I shook my head slowly and focused my eyes back to my feet. It was impossible for anyone to know how worked up I’d become but I was embarrassed about it anyway. I kept my hands clasped together behind my back with every ounce of strength I had, clutching each tiny wrist with each tiny hand as though to let go would mean I’d lose my life.

“Hen, you see, was always terrified whenever she was in the presence of the fox,” Maurice continued. “She’d think to herself, ‘I am so weak and inconsequential that Fox could kill me in an instant. I better do whatever he says.’

Maurice paused and I looked up and saw him adjust his rimless glasses. He smiled before continuing, “You see, no one had ever told Hen what she was. They were afraid to. And Hen, you see, had a disease common to her type: she became blind whenever she looked in a mirror. Because of that, she’d never actually seen what she was. All she knew was that her name was Hen. And she knew that hens were small and weak. So she thought she must also be small and weak, given her name. Foxes were big and strong so she had to obey them in order to stay alive.

“For years she suffered the abuses of Fox and all the others, always doing whatever they told her and never thinking to fight back. Then one day Hen met an injured crow along the road. When she walked over to it to see if she could help, the crow became terrified.

“‘Leave me be, leave me be!’ the crow cried. ‘I’m just a poor injured crow, don’t hurt me!’

“‘Why would I hurt you?’ Hen asked. She was genuinely confused by the crow’s pleading.

“The crow stared at her in confusion. Finally he said, ‘You’re so … mighty. I just thought you’d be unable to restrain yourself. If you’d really rather be my friend than eat me up, I’ll gladly accept your help. Only tell me your name first. Mine, of course, should be obvious. My name is Crow.’

“Hen smiled now. She liked making a new friend, and she really thought she could help Crow with his injury. She trotted over to him, knelt next to him, and said, ‘My name, my good friend, is Hen.’

“The crow laughed. He laughed hard,” Maurice said. He pushed the hair out of my eyes and said, “Can you guess why the crow was laughing, Becky?”

I gulped. I’d been captivated by the story and hearing him call me by my name was like having the lights come up in the middle of a movie. I said, “Uhm, he thought it was a bad name for her?”

Maurice arched his eyebrows and his smile evened out. He looked curiously at me for a moment then said, “But why, Becky? Why was it a bad name for her?”

I bit my lip, looked up, and met Maurice’s gaze. I wasn’t sure how to respond at first. After inhaling deeply through my nostrils I said, “It’s a male name. Uhm, a guy’s name? Hen … short for Henry. I know it’s supposed to be an actual ‘hen’, like the fox and the crow, but uhm … whenever you said Hen I thought of a guy, not a weak gir– … I mean, not a weak animal, like a hen.”

“Fascinating,” Maurice said. Then he went down on one knee again and touched my chin. “That’s close to the truth.”

He inhaled deeply then gave me a smirk. “The reason Crow laughed was that he thought the name ‘Hen’ was a silly one, too. But not for the reason you said. He thought it was a silly name because ‘Hen’ was a very silly name for a lion.”

The ending to his story made me blink. “Wh– … what?” I blurted.

Maurice smiled at me in a very wicked way. “Now you know why they never told her the truth. You’ll also understand why I worry about letting you go home after all you’ve seen. If you were my slave, I’d trust you to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut. But I won’t have you as my slave. Slavery’s the white-man’s evil, your evil. Not mine. So how can I possibly know that you won’t go and tell the police about us? About Ty’s house? About Lee’s car? How do I know that once you realize you’re a lion, and not a hen, you won’t turn on all of us?”

 

I stared at him blankly. Was he calling me a lion? That didn’t make any sense to me.

Maurice was angry and I was scared as he jabbed a finger in my face. I knew that there was really no sure way of convincing him I wouldn’t go to the authorities. But I knew in my heart that I really was a weak girl. I wasn’t a lion. In his words I really was a hen and it was all I would ever be. I was too afraid to ever be anything else. But how could I convince Maurice of this?

“I guess,” I finally said with more conviction than I felt, “you have to trust me.”

It was gratifying to hear several people in the crowd murmur in agreement.

Maurice grinned, too. He said, “I suppose I do. But I don’t even trust my own brother, Becky. And I don’t trust my two sisters neither. I never trusted my passed-on mom, and I still don’t trust my incarcerated dad. The only people I trust are the people in this room. The members of the Four Oh Crew.”

A loud cheer from the men behind me, and even the men in front of me, followed Maurice’s words. I looked at him and tried to think of something to say when he spoke instead.

“The Four-Oh Crew is greater than family,” he announced, not only to me but to the entire room. “We look after each other. We take care of each other. If one of us gets put behind bars by the police, we don’t rat out anyone else. We do our time because we know the Four-Oh will take care of our family while we’re inside. Never in the history of the Four-Oh has a member betrayed the crew. To do so means certain death. That’s why they’re the only people in this world I trust. Do you understand?”

I started to nod but he stopped me by gripping my chin. He stared deep into my eyes with that penetrating, angry stare of his and said, “Betrayal to the crew means death, Becky. One of us will get you if you turn on any of us.”

My eyes were wide with fear. He was still gripping me by the chin when he added, “But that cuts both ways. If you’re one of us all of us all of us will protect you. Do you understand?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing but I knew that he wanted an answer. I chose the default response by saying, “Yes, sir.”

“So you want to join the Four-Oh Crew? You’re willing to go through the initiation?”

The crowd, which had been holding its breath, erupted in celebration. It’s what they’d been hoping for. They wanted me to join them and go through an initiation. My eyes widened at the idea of joining an inner-city gang and my brain struggled to think of what I should do.

When the room quieted down I was still trying to think of something to say. Finally, if only to buy myself some time, I said, “What … what if I, uhm, say no?”

There was some laughter behind me but Maurice’s face turned to stone. He said, “Well then, instead of joining my family you’d remain a threat to it. What does any man do when his family is threatened?”

I’d known the answer before he’d given it. If I refused to join his gang I wouldn’t be going home. Nor would I become a slave. I would die, simple as that. Maurice, I knew instinctively, was a man of absolutes. I could see in his eyes that he would kill me as easily as he would fuck me. And he would feel no remorse afterwards, either.

After another long pause I finally nodded my head. Without thinking I said, “I want to join.”

More cheering came from the crowd behind me but Maurice simply nodded. He stood back up to his full, impressive height and announced, “Attention, Four-Oh! This young lady here wishes to join our family and be initiated tonight. Does anyone present have good cause for me to reject her request?”

No one said anything. After a long moment Maurice touched my chin so that I would look up at him. When I did he said, “Very well, Becky. You may attempt the initiation. But I warn you right now. If you fail or decide to quit at any point you will be forever an outsider to us. I urge you to remember what that means.”

I nodded. My heart was hammering in my chest as Maurice gripped me by my upper arm and led me to the stage. Destiny was no longer standing on it but was leaning against one of the four tables, still completely nude and giving me a dirty look. When we reached the makeshift stage the crowd of men encircled us. Maurice reached into his pants pocket and pulled out two gold-plated dice. He set them on one of tables that made up the stage and pointed to them.

“The first phase of the initiation is the simplest. You will roll these dice. The result of your roll will determine how many members of the Four-Oh crew you will have to sexually satisfy during the fourth and final phase of your initiation.”

A lot of the men made some lewd remarks but I could barely hear anything besides Maurice’s voice. I felt my stomach tighten.

I would be having sex with some of these men after all. As few as two or as many as 12. I was so nervous and scared that I kept glancing at the entrance to the bar and wondering if I could get to it fast if I decided to bolt. There was no way, though. I had to do this.

“Destiny rolled a three earlier,” Maurice said. “It’s possible you will be having sex with fewer men than her later, or a great deal more. Now you may unclasp your wrists, Becky. Pick up the dice and let fate decide how many of the members of the Four-Oh Crew get to finish your initiation.”

I had forgotten all about his command earlier that I hold my wrists behind my back but my body hadn’t. They’d been clasped the whole time and when I let go my hands felt numb. I rubbed them together for a moment to get the blood flowing and then, with a visibly shaky hand, I picked up the golden dice. They felt heavy as I cupped my other hand over them and began to shake. Memories of playing Monopoly with my brothers popped into my head as the crowd began to chant, “Twelve! Twelve! Twelve!”

I shook the dice for a good minute or so and then, as my heart hammered in my chest, I let go. The dice flew out of my hands and bounced across the table. I stared at them and time slowed down. For a moment I saw two sixes. Then I saw two ones. Finally the dice stopped moving and the crowd cheered in delight.

The result on one dice was indeed a six. On the other, though, was only a three.

“Nine,” Maurice announced out loud for those who could not see. More cheering followed and my face flushed red. Destiny gave me a smug, defiant look that was full of malice. I gulped slowly and felt more alone than I ever had before in my life.

“Now, for the next phase, you must stand on this stage and present yourself to the Four-Oh Crew. What that entails is what you saw Destiny doing when you entered,” Maurice explained. “You don’t have to dance the way she did, but if you wish you may request a song of your choice to perform to.

“What isn’t an option,” Maurice continued, raising the volume of his voice to silence the loud group of men, “is whether or not you remain clothed. You must, in fact, strip naked and pose so that everyone present gets a chance to see you from every angle. Do you understand?”

After all I’d been through since my 13th birthday I would have expected this phase to be easy. It wasn’t. My mind sort of zoned out as Maurice and someone else helped me crawl up onto the makeshift stage. When I stood up and looked out over the large gathering of black men, I froze. I could feel my knees shaking so violently that I was afraid I would collapse. The room was silent and everyone was staring at me and I was overcome with stage fright. For a moment I thought I was going to cry.

Maurice must have sensed my trepidation because, just as the crowd began to murmur its disapproval, he said in a loud, commanding voice, “Becky, take off your shirt.”

That did the trick. Without thinking I brought my hands up to my chest and started to unbutton my shirt. The angry murmurs of the crowd turned into sounds of approval as I fumbled with the buttons. In my head I was thinking about the time I’d undressed in the back of Daniel’s video store and all the subsequent times I’d stripped for him in his basement. This was the same thing, I told myself. I was simply following orders, doing what I was told. It was always best to just do as you were told.

When I slipped my shirt off my slender body there was a round of applause and calls for me to continue. But I didn’t move again until I heard Maurice demand, “Remove your shoes and socks, Becky.”

I went down onto one knee and removed my left shoe, realizing with some embarrassment that some of the men behind me could probably see up my skirt. I moved quickly to remove my other shoe and sock and then stood up.

Maurice demanded that I remove my bra and even though the crowd was incredibly loud, now, I could hear his voice as if it were the only one in the room. I brought my hands up to my chest and fumbled with the clasp of my bra. It had been one of my master’s favorites, a red, front-clasping piece that pushed my breasts upwards in a way that made them look bigger than they were. When the clasp snapped free my breasts fell out to the cheering of the men in front of me. My nipples were stiff from either arousal or fear and as I dropped the bra to the table-top I realized I wanted to touch them.

My small, barely pubescent b-cups were nothing compared to Destiny’s huge breasts but you wouldn’t have known that from the crowd’s reaction. Maurice commanded me to turn around so everyone could see and I did. The room erupted with gaudy cheers. I kept my arms to my side and my eyes focused on my bare feet but I was feeling something other than nervousness, too. I felt a strange sort of pride that my small, young body would evoke such loud cheering from the men in the room. I guess I just felt flattered.

When Maurice told me to remove my skirt I didn’t think twice. I even sort of made a show of it, bending at the waist as I pushed it down after unzipping it. I felt my skin warm up all over, especially between my legs. I turned for the gang members in the room and suddenly I wanted to see them. My nude body was on full display to these strangers but that didn’t embarrass me anymore. I wanted to look at them, to actually see their reaction instead of just hearing it.

For the first time I looked away from my feet and brushed my hair out of my eyes. The crowd seemed to realize what I was doing and I was greeted with loud shouts of encouragement. I turned in place, a small smile starting to form on my lips, and soaked in the adulation of the crowd. Men were pointing at me with smiles on their faces, clapping their hands, and cheering me on. For a brief moment my stage fright was gone and I soaked in their approval with a genuine smile on my face.

Then I spotted several women in the back of the crowd. I hadn’t noticed them before and they were so far back from the stage that I assumed they had arrived late. When I saw them I froze. They were pointing angrily at me and using my race in the loud, vicious attacks they screamed at me. Terms like “White slut ain’t even got pubes yet!” and “Spoiled white bitch, stupid fuckin’ snow flake!” cut through the chanting of the men and sort of stung. I could feel their anger and suddenly I was nervous again.

These women had come to watch someone they knew, Destiny. Instead they were watching me, a complete outsider, a child. And they hated me. I felt my stomach churn with fear. Once again I looked down at my feet and tried to pretend I was somewhere else.

The crowd surged toward the stage just as Maurice began to speak again and I was surrounded by dark, outstretched hands. I found myself stumbling toward the center of the four square tables in an attempt to stay away from them. Some of the hands were trying to touch me and a couple even did before I made it to the center of the mock-stage. Others were just pointing at various parts of my nubile body while crude comments were hurled at me. I no longer felt proud about the way the men were reacting to my nudity. Instead I felt like a piece of meat on an auction block. I listened hard for Maurice’s voice but couldn’t hear him over all the shouting. After several moments of stumbling around to avoid the hands something snapped inside me. For the first time since removing my top I crossed my arms over my breasts to shelter them from the audience. My knees began to shake and before I could catch myself I slipped and fell onto my ass.

Someone grabbed one of my ankles and began to pull. I squealed in panic and tried to kick the hands away. When someone grabbed me by my shoulders I began to bawl like a toddler. I couldn’t contain my fear as the scene descended into chaos and hands from all around grabbed at me, some going so far as to push between my flailing legs.

Eventually I realized that Maurice’s face was above mine when I heard him yell my name. After blinking away tears I could see his strong, angular features and his penetrating eyes behind his rimless glasses. He was the one holding me by my shoulders and that sort of relaxed me. I could finally hear him now when he said, “Stop struggling, Becky. They need to carry you so we can set up the third phase of your initiation.”

That’s when I realized the chaotic scene wasn’t chaotic at all. The men were trying to work together to lift me from the makeshift stage but my struggling and carrying on was impeding their work. I felt my heart slow its frantic beating and I nodded to Maurice. He hoisted me up and I felt my small body, now immobile, being lifted high into the air by strong black hands.

As embarrassing as it was to be lifted up in the nude it was a far cry better than feeling like I was about to be torn apart by a pack of wild animals. After a moment or so I was even sort of comfortable with this lewd, naked crowd surfing. Though the occasional hand thrust or poked at me in uncomfortable places, most of the people passing me along were gentle enough, given the circumstances.

I noticed that I wasn’t alone, either. Destiny was in a similar situation. I saw her naked chocolate colored body being passed around the room, too, and I also realized that the room was now packed full with gang members. A lot of people must have shown up since I followed Ty and Lee into the bar. The place was stuffed wall to wall with people, and not just with men, either. As I was passed across the outstretched hands of whooping and cheering gang-bangers I noticed that at least a third of them were female. I also saw that my body was following the path Destiny’s had taken. The sweaty and calloused hands of the Four-Oh Crew passed me over to one wall, along its perimeter, and then toward the bar. I followed in Destiny’s wake and only barely managed to comprehend my situation as I circled around the room.

Just before the end, when I was passed back toward the center of the room, I noticed that the makeshift stage had been taken apart. The new direction filled my heart with joy at first. I wanted this naked crowd surfing to end more than anything. But then I noticed that where the tables had been there was now an angry looking group of female gang-bangers forming a circle. Destiny was dropped into the center of this little oasis first. I followed shortly after.

The women were screaming at us. They were pointing fingers, yelling cuss words, and stomping their feet. But none of them stepped past the invisible line of the circle. I crossed my arms over my pale chest, not that modesty mattered much anymore, and tried to find the exact center of the circle so that I would be as far away from these women as possible. In doing so I bumped into Destiny. I didn’t care, and neither did she. For the first time that night she looked scared, too.

“Phase three,” Maurice yelled.

I didn’t hear him the first time he cried out. I didn’t hear him the few times he yelled the same two words after that. But eventually all of us heard him and the screaming women who encircled Destiny and I quieted down. The men who filled the rest of the bar followed suit.

Maurice let us all stand there in silence for a good long while. I felt Destiny’s naked rear-end press against the middle of my back. She seemed to be pushing herself away from the angry eyes of the women who encircled us and that made me do the same. Since I was shorter than her the top half of my butt met her ass while the lower half met her upper thighs. I didn’t care about the contact. I was too confused and frightened to care about anything.

“Phase three,” Maurice repeated for the hundredth time, “entails the court-in.”

The room cheered. I didn’t know what a “court-in” was but I heard and felt Destiny shudder, and that scared the crap out of me.

“For thirty seconds,” the gang leader’s deep voice entombed, “each initiate will endure a beating at the hands of her would-be Four-Oh sisters.”

Destiny and I were torn apart before I could make sense of Maurice’s words. At the same time as I was being hauled out of the circle by a pair of angry looking women I heard the room erupt with cheering. The next thing I knew I was being held next to Maurice by Lee, who had accepted me from the women. His thick arms wrapped around mine, helping to cover my tits. I struggled out of sheer instinct for a moment until I heard his deep voice whisper in my ear, “Just stay cool, girl. It’ll be over real quick.”

I only had a moment to watch Destiny stumble around in the circle before one of the women lunged out at her and punched her in the face. Destiny shoved the woman back but there was no real fight in her. Another woman grabbed her hair from behind and held her immobile as the first woman gave her two strong punches to the face, then one to her flat, naked stomach. Destiny doubled over and crumbled to the ground.

The real beating began once she hit the floor and it seemed to last forever. While it felt like the crowd of men were surging behind us, the crowd of women literally rushed toward the helpless woman. I saw legs kicking, arms throwing, and hair being pulled. Most of all I heard Destiny crying. She screamed bloody murder and it was no act. She was in real, honest-to-God pain. The swarm of female Four-Oh Crew members covered her like locusts, kicking, biting, punching. I barely had time to digest the scene when Maurice yelled, “TIME!”

Amazingly, all of the women backed off at the sound of his voice. The circle was formed once again. Left directly in the center was the crumpled form of Destiny, her body laying on its side, quivering in place.

Someone helped her up. I don’t remember who. I might not have even seen. I was too preoccupied with what was happening and was desperately trying to think of a way out. I now knew what a court-in was and I was terrified. I was next, after all.

“Just curl up, baby girl,” Lee whispered to me. “Just drop right away and curl up and count to thirty. Don’t do nothin’ stupid like try and fight back, hear me?”

I tried to nod but I was too scared to move. I watched in a daze as Destiny was led out of the circle, the same place she had been stripping naked on a makeshift stage not an hour earlier. Instead of her clothes she left her blood behind this time. She was stumbling and I could see she was crying, wincing, and clutching her side. She was making no move to hide her nudity and it seemed as though she was barely aware of her surroundings.

Maurice relieved Lee of his duties and gripped me in his arms. He said, “All women must endure the court-in. Feel lucky, Becky. For a man the court-in lasts two full minutes.”

Then, without warning, he pushed me into the circle. I stumbled right over a stain of blood Destiny had left behind. My bare feet were both drenched in it when I received the first elbow-to-the-face of my life.

I remember the pain, of course. More than that, though, I remember trying to figure out which tooth might have been chipped. It was surreal: I was falling to the ground, all of my strength leaving me from just the one blow, and all I could think about was my tooth. Was it broken? Was it shattered? Would I have to go to the dentist? I tried to remember if my dad still had dental insurance or not…

I hit the ground hard. The elbow to my mouth had been brutal and I never did see the face of the woman who struck me. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion but when I finally landed on the ground I did as Lee suggested. I curled up into a fetal position. My hands gripped the top of my head so that my arms protected my face. I squeezed my knees up to my chest so that I protected my pussy and ribcage as best I could.

What followed next is strange to recall. For thirty long seconds, the longest of my life, I endured kick after kick, punch after punch, as a pack of wild animals beat the shit out of me. They hurled insults as the mob of black women did their best to ruin my small body. Sometimes they tried to grab my hair but mostly they just kicked and punched, kicked and punched, repeatedly. During the entire process I barely felt anything. I didn’t even cry, not even when one woman landed the sole of her combat boot squarely onto my right temple. It was like I retreated to a place deep inside, a safe place where there was no pain. It was a place my former master had first brought me to during all the torments he’d made me endure during my term as his slave. I went there during those awful 30-seconds and hid from both the women beating me and the men cheering the action from behind them.

I never heard Maurice yell “TIME!” though I imagine he must have because the beating did come to an abrupt end. Just like that my “court-in” was over and the women disappeared and I was left a crumpled form on the cold, hard ground.

Lee was the one to help me to my feet. He more or less carried me toward Maurice, where Destiny was standing next to Ty. There was a band-aid on her left cheek, a butterfly bandage holding together a nasty scar on her right temple, and a large square of gauze taped over her left breast hiding some kind of cut that was bleeding through the bandage. Her right eye looked swollen shut but nothing could be done for that. She looked like a total wreck. She stood mostly because Ty was hoisting her up. It looked like she had no strength in her.

I was presented to Maurice by Lee who held me from behind by either shoulder. I barely looked at the gang leader. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Destiny. She was in a really bad way. She probably needed to go to the hospital, I thought. That’s when I realized that I made it through my court-in a lot better than she had. Lee’s advice had proved to be extremely helpful.

“Both initiates,” Maurice said after touching my chin and examining my face, “have passed the third phase.”

The crowd around us cried out their approval. Just then two men I hadn’t noticed before took me from Lee’s comfortable arms and sat me on the ground. They began to probe my body in a clinical way. They asked me questions. One of them shown a pen-light in my eyes.

“She’s cool,” one of them said. “Blood’s from her mouth but that’ll heal quick.”

“Give her something for the pain,” Maurice told them.

One of the two men pressed a couple pills against my swelling mouth. I definitely had a cut lip and maybe a chipped tooth, but it could have been far worse. The pills tasted like acid but I sucked both down with a gulp from a water bottle the men attending me offered.

The entire bar-room was in a furor. They were chanting, demanding the fourth phase. In my dazed state of mind I couldn’t even remember what that was. I looked up, searching for Lee, and started to ask for him. Instead I coughed up blood.

“Are you okay?”

Maurice’s words were unexpected. I said, “Yesh, shir.”

He frowned at me and adjusted his glasses. He said, “Your eyes don’t look too bad. How does it feel when you breathe?”

I inhaled deeply through my nose. There was some pain in my ribcage but nothing major. I didn’t think anything was broken. I said, “Ish okay.”

He nodded. “Very well,” he said. After standing back up he held up both hands and said to the crowd, “There will be a ten minute break so we can set up for phase four. If you haven’t drawn a number yet, B has the tickets.”

Lee helped me to my feet after that. His large, menacing presence seemed to ward off the crowd of enthusiastic gang-bangers because we had no problem making our way to the bar through the crowd of men. Once we got there he sat me on a stool and said, “You know what’s next, girl?”

My dizzy mind tried to focus. I crossed my arms across my naked breasts and concentrated. Finally I remembered phase one, the dice. I’d rolled a 9. My weak and beaten body shuddered but I said, “Yesh … yesh…”

The large man with the afro pulled out a pack of cigarettes. The rest of the bar-room was going nuts but by and large no one was paying any attention to me. No music was playing but it almost seemed like the men were dancing in anticipation of what would happen next. In the center of the room, where Destiny and I had just been beaten up, there was some activity. I couldn’t tell exactly what was going on but it looked like something was being constructed, or at least set-up. I looked back at Lee and saw he was taking a long drag from a filter-less cigarette.

“Here,” he said, offering me the smoke.

I shook my head. “I don’t shmoke anymore… ,” I said.

He held the cigarette out anyway. He nodded toward it without saying anything. He wasn’t speaking because he was holding down the hit he’d just taken.

I was confused. I said, “I’m shorry, I ushed to but I quit…”

Finally he exhaled a plume of funny smelling smoke. He said, “Girl, this ain’t no normal cigarette. Take a hit or two. It’ll help with what’s about to happen.”

Now I understood. He wasn’t smoking a cigarette. He was smoking weed. When I looked back at the cigarette he was offering it was obviously hand rolled. It was a joint, I recalled from pictures in anti-drug classes at school. I stared at it for two or three long heartbeats before finally reaching up with my right hand and taking it between my fingers.

I’d never smoked pot before. I’d never really even considered it, not that I’d ever had an option to do so where I came from. The nuns at school had ingrained in me that marijuana was bad and that I should never smoke it. Daniel, my former master, had ingrained in me that I wasn’t even supposed to smoke normal cigarettes. Even my dad had railed about the dangers of smoking. But I took my first hit of weed anyway because I trusted Lee. He was one of my liberators and, unlike Ty, he seemed to actually give a crap about me. If he thought it would help me get through phase four then I would definitely smoke it.

He told me to hold the smoke down and I did. I nearly choked when I finally exhaled and I coughed like crazy. Lee sort of grinned at me while I did. Maybe he thought it was funny I couldn’t handle the pot or maybe he just enjoyed the sight of my jiggling little breasts. Either way he passed the joint back to me after taking his own hit. My second intake of marijuana smoke went better than the first had but I choked and coughed just the same.

I ended up getting four or five good hits in before the joint was too small for either of us to hold anymore. Lee called down the bar for a glass of water and when it arrived I greedily sucked down half of it. My mouth and throat were incredibly dry. Other than that, though, I didn’t feel any different than I had before smoking the weed.

I saw that Lee was grinning at me again. I said, “What?”

He just shook his head. “You’re gonna have a fat lip, girl,” he said.

I felt my lips with one hand. Only then did I realize I’d been smiling like some stupid little girl. I giggled when I realized it, and giggled harder when I felt the cut on my lower lip. It felt puffy and tingly. Hadn’t it hurt before?

My eyes popped wide open when I finally understood. I was high! I’d never been high before and it felt incredible. It wasn’t like being drunk. Not at all. When I was drunk I could barely think. Being high was the opposite: I couldn’t help but think. I thought of everything. I was aware of everything. Everything but the pain in my body from the court-in, that is. I was aware of the smoke in the air, the voices around me, the cold leather-covered stool beneath my naked butt. This last part preoccupied my thoughts the most: I was naked. Naked! Naked and sitting on a bar stool in the middle of a crowded room. I began to laugh.

“What’s up?” Lee asked, looking amused.

I leaned in toward him. I was no longer covering my breasts. I didn’t care. I said in a whisper, “You know shomething? I’m naked!”

He laughed at my obvious observation. He said, “That you are, girl.”

I laughed with him. Our laughter was interrupted when Ty arrived. He was smiling and flipping a coin in the air, catching it, and flipping it again. I stared at it as it made its way through the air and almost clapped every time he caught it. When he was right next to us he said, “Yo, Lee. Since you ‘n I brought in little Ms. Snow Bunny here we gets precedence in a few. Maurice said to flip to see who gets the heads and who gets the tails first, know what I mean?”

I giggled like a stupid little child. I was getting even more high as the THC coursed through my veins. I knew what Ty was talking about but I didn’t care. What I did care about was Lee’s answer when he said, “Nah, man, I’m cool.”

Ty looked as shocked as I felt. “You cool?” he said. “You don’t wanna taste?”

I looked at Lee with pleading eyes. He was looking at Ty when he said, “Yeah, man, think I’ll sit this one out.”

Ty stared at him for a moment. I couldn’t help but keep staring at Lee, too. I heard Ty say, “Suit yourself, my man.”

Lee finally met my stare. He arched his eyebrows in a “What?” gesture and I started to say something before I was interrupted by Maurice’s loud voice.

“Brothers and sisters of the Four Oh!” he cried. The room quieted down and everyone, myself included, turned in his direction. He was standing in the center of the room, the very same place Destiny and I had just been beaten up. He could easily be seen because of his height but he looked even taller for some reason. It was like he was floating above the crowd. He said, “It’s nearly seven o’ clock and our initiation tonight is running late. This is due in part to the fact we had a late-entry initiate that I approved. However, I gave B my word we’d all clear out by 8:30 and I mean to keep it.”

The room filled with boos from the men. I just stared at him. He looked like a god to me, standing above the crowd, somehow flying. I couldn’t figure it out. He held up his hands to silence everyone and said, “I gave him my word! However, while Destiny rolled a three our would-be white sister over there rolled a nine. So we’ve got no time to waste if we’re going to get through this.”

 

There were nods of approval. I noticed that a lot of people were staring at me. I grinned self-consciously and stared at my naked toes.

“What are we waiting for, men? Let’s have some fun!” Maurice bellowed. The room roared and I could only barely hear him when he said, “Bring the initiates forth!”

I squeaked with surprise as someone grabbed me by my waist and hoisted me off the stool. I didn’t struggle, though. By now I was used to being carried by various members of the Four-Oh Crew. Besides, I was so high that being carried by this man was actually sort of fun. He basically slung me over one shoulder and the chanting mob of men parted for him as he made his way toward the center of the room.

When we got there I was surprised. There was no makeshift stage like there had been at first. Nor was there an empty circle of ground. There was still a circle of people, don’t get me wrong, but in the center of that circle were two queen-sized mattresses. One was covered with clean, pure white sheets. The other was covered with clean, dark black sheets. I was dropped onto the black one. At almost the same moment Destiny was dropped on the white one right next to it.

I bounced up and down and couldn’t help but smile as memories of jumping up and down on my bed when I was little played through my head. My stoned mind then wondered whether or not a variety of such mattresses, complete with sheets and pillows, were kept in the storage room of this bar for occasions such as this. I giggled as I imagined a huge room filled with mattresses of varying sizes, racks of unused sheets and blankets. Sort of like a Bed, Bath and Beyond in the back of this seedy little bar…

I didn’t have much time to focus on my silly fantasy. Almost immediately a woman, maybe one who had helped beat me up earlier, grabbed me by my hair and yanked my head back. She said, “All fours, bitch!”

I didn’t even think of protesting. I crawled up onto my hands and knees as she guided me into the center of the dark black mattress. Meanwhile, on the mattress next to mine, Destiny was being led in a similar fashion to the center of her white-covered bed. The contrast of white against her dark skin made me smile and appreciate the choice of colors in our respective sheets.

After both of us were in the proper position Maurice silenced the room and said, “As I said before, we haven’t much time, so there will be no breaks. Destiny will give herself to three men and Becky will give herself to nine. If at any time either one decides to quit then their initiation will be over and they will be rejected from the Four-Oh Crew.

“All of you interested in doing so have drawn tickets,” he continued. “But, as tradition stipulates, those vouching for the initiates will receive first dibs. Will Dontrel, Ty, and Lee please stand forward?”

I shook my light blond hair over my shoulder and saw Ty and a man I assumed was Dontrel appear at Maurice’s side. Ty whispered something to the taller man. He nodded and said, “It appears that Lee has chosen not to participate tonight.” There were some whoops of joy at this announcement but Maurice silenced them with a gesture of his hand. When the crowd was quiet again he said, “Dontrel, Ty. Take your positions.”

I watched as both men, grinning like idiots, walked toward the mattresses. They were both unzipping their pants. Ty was naked from the waist down as he crawled up onto the black mattress. Dontrel was also naked from the waist down as he crawled up onto the white one.

Ty’s penis was large. Much larger than my former master Daniel’s had been, anyway. It had to be about eight inches long and three-inches in diameter. It was impossible to take my eyes off of it. I never even looked at the man named Dontrel’s member; after all, he wasn’t going to be fucking me so what did I care?

Ty got on his knees behind me. I felt his hand grip my left buttock and squeeze me there and all I could do was remember the time, a few hours earlier, when he’d knocked my master down a stairway. He’d seemed so large and powerful then. He felt large and powerful now, too, as he placed the head of his thick, black cock against my tiny pink vagina.

I gasped when he pressed it inside me. To my surprise it popped right in. I was so stoned I hadn’t realized I was already soaking wet down there. I wondered how long I’d been wet. Had I been wet on the bar-stool? Had I soaked up while being carried to the mattress? Or had the sight of Ty’s huge cock finally gotten me slick?

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. All that mattered right now was that the largest penis I’d ever taken was slowly pressing its way inside my tight young body. Ty dug his hands into my butt cheeks and pressed them apart. He was no doubt staring down at the sight of his shaft compared to my small pink slit. I cried out in delight as it moved into me but my cries were drowned out by the roars of the crowd. On the mattress next to me, I knew, Destiny was also getting penetrated but in my head none of the cheering was for her.

At that moment I wanted to be watched, I wanted to be seen. I pressed back against Ty’s cock and squealed like a surprised child as inch after inch entered me.

The room full of black gang bangers cheered at the sight of me, a little Catholic suburban girl, getting penetrated doggy-style by a gun-toting, football-jersey wearing, black man. If only my father could see me now, I thought with a giggle that turned into a groan of pleasure. I dug my hands into the mattress sheets and arched my back. There was no way Ty was all the way in me yet but there was no way I could take anymore. When I somehow did I felt an explosion of pain and pleasure go off in my loins. I slung my head back and howled like a dog, like a bitch in heat. In my stoned little head I pictured my dad bristling at the sound of my cry.

I had my first orgasm of the night. Ty wasn’t even fully inside me but thinking of my dad, and what he would say if he could see me now, sent me over the top. My mouth turned into a perfect O-shape and my eyes shut tight as blood rushed to my chest and groin. The sound I emitted was no longer animal-like, it was simply the sound of the wanton desire of a 13-year-old white slut. There could be no doubt left for anyone who heard it that I was having a tremendous orgasm.

My whole tiny body felt like it was on fire. My nipples burned and I wished at that moment that Ty was gripping them rather than my soft behind. He was fully inside me for only a moment just as my orgasm crested, and then he was thrusting forward again. I gasped in a blubbering cry of total enjoyment. My master, Daniel, had never fucked me like this, I thought. Ty was slamming me repeatedly and my tight pussy was surprised each time by the sheer size of his cock. I groaned again and felt that I was already going to have another orgasm. My master never got me off twice in a row so fast. But Daniel wasn’t my master anymore.

Just before I would have cum for the second time Ty he pulled out all of the way, leaving me feeling empty and incomplete. I stammered in confusion as he scrambled around the mattress to get in front of me. I had no idea what was going on. Behind me I heard Maurice’s deep voice yell out, “One, oh, two, one, oh!”

I heard someone yell out, “That’s me, give me room!” above the cheering of the bar-room. Before my stoned brain could process what was happening Ty was in front of me, pressing his large cock against my lips.

I opened my mouth without thinking. There was no way a thing that size could get down my throat, I figured, but if he wanted to try I wasn’t going to try and stop him. He jammed his member into my small mouth without a word and he gripped my head by my hair. I groaned around his cock as it slid over my tongue. Just then I felt the mattress shift as someone crawled onto it behind me. To my surprise Ty was able to press most of the length of his shaft into my throat after all. I suppose all the “training” Daniel had put me through was coming in handy, now.

Being stoned also helped me suppress my gag reflex as I felt my throat widen to accept Ty’s thrusting cock. Soon I was struggling for air as Ty fucked my throat and just then another penis started pressing against my wet pussy from behind.

“Uhmmghhh!” I groaned as Ty fucked his cock in and out of my throat once, twice, three times. Then he pulled out just as the stranger’s penis fully penetrated me. I had only a second to gasp in a mouthful of air when Ty’s cock erupted in my face.

The crowd went wild. Stream after stream of his gooey cum splattered out of his black cock and onto my white face. I heard him say, “Fuckin’ bitch, fuckin’ slut,” and I just groaned with pleasure in response. The pleasure was coming from the new cock filling me up from behind as much as the sensation of Ty’s semen streaking my young face.

My arms were weak, now, and I wanted to collapse onto the black-sheeted mattress. I managed to hold strong, though. Ty was gone and I shook my hair over my shoulder and glanced to my left. I saw Destiny there, still getting pummeled by Dontrel from behind. Cum dripped off my jaw and I winced and moaned as I studied the older woman getting fucked doggy-style.

The expression on her face was anything but joyful. He eyes were shut, her jaw was set, and her lips were formed in a grimace. It occurred to my intoxicated brain that she was just enduring her treatment. She wasn’t enjoying it at all. I wondered if most of the female Four-Oh Crew initiates tolerated this, the fourth phase, the same way. I couldn’t understand it. Because the stranger’s penis, now deep inside my young twat, was sending me to heaven for the second time that night. I was ready to cum again, and was crying out with pleasure. If only he touched my dangling tits, I kept thinking, I would have my second orgasm. Even though he never did I almost came anyway just before he pulled out of me.

I cried in frustration. The man who had been in me was scrambling to get to my mouth. Meanwhile I heard Maurice yell, “One, oh, three, six, one!”

A groan came from the audience but was quickly replaced with cheering as the next gang member announced he had the conforming ticket. I couldn’t help but giggle. I was so stoned and sexually charged that the idea my pussy was being raffled off, with honest-to-God raffle-tickets, made me laugh. I didn’t have much time to laugh, however, because the man who had been fucking me was suddenly in front of me. I sucked down his cock without being prompted to. I was greedy like an animal for it, lost in the lust and atmosphere of the moment. A hundred eyes watched me as I took it down my throat and there was no way I wanted to disappoint them. I went to town on the thing, slithering my wet tongue around the cock-head before pushing my face forward and taking most of the shaft down my throat. I was lost in slutty, dirty pleasure as I was skewered at both ends.

“One, oh, two, four, eight!” Maurice yelled.

This confused me at first. I had a brand new dick entering my pussy, and another dick in my mouth. Why was Maurice calling out another ticket number? With a cock down my throat I realized that Destiny’s first man, Dontrel, was finally ready to finish. I glanced over to her and sure enough, Dontrel was now fucking her face as a new gang-banger mounted her from behind. The latest “winner” got to mount her, not me. He seemed as pleased as a silver medal winner at the Olympics, I thought with a high degree of immodesty.

My face was getting fucked hard now as my second cock of the night took over when my actions lapsed in the wake of the third cock, now fucking my pussy, stole my attention. It was hard to focus on anything else when one of these black cocks was in my young vagina. I strained my cunt around the thick member, gripping it and encouraging it to fuck me harder. I gasped when the man it belonged to slapped my ass. That really set me off. If I could have spoken just then I probably would have begged him to spank me harder.

I felt my chest growing warm and out of nowhere my second orgasm of the night engulfed me. I cried out in pleasure and my throat tightened in response around the dick down my throat. That apparently was enough to set the man face-fucking me off. Just as my orgasm became all-encompassing I felt warm goo shoot down my throat. The man behind me, meanwhile, pulled his dick out of me. I was still sort of cumming when he was in front of me and I had no other thought in my stoned head than to suck his member down my cum-slicked throat.

I had only a minute or so to focus on this third cock before the fourth of the night entered my pussy. Maurice had yelled out another ticket number and I hadn’t even heard.

Destiny finished another one herself and while I was on my fourth cock she was only on her third. Of course, this would be her final one. After my third cock of the night emptied its load on my face the same way Ty had I looked over at my fellow initiate. She was not having any fun at all. Her mouth was getting skewered by her second cock and it was obvious she hated it. I almost smiled as I waited for my fourth lover of the night to pull out of me. My mouth was empty and I did nothing to hide my cries of pleasure. The crowd was enjoying the show I was giving them. All Destiny gave them was a show of endurance. I gave them a demonstration of ultimate pleasure. My stoned young brain thought that made me superior.

My fourth cock of the night was average in size, I thought, and the man it belonged to was taking his time fucking me. I spent that time watching Destiny as her third and final cock was pulled out of her ebony body. No one else’s cock replaced it as it forced its way down her throat. I felt delicious waves of pleasure wash over me as I saw her do her best to service her last man. I watched with stoned, gross fascination when the white spunk from his cock finally erupted across her already glazed black face. She didn’t look very happy about it. She immediately rubbed her face into the white mattress she was on. She groaned in pain and had to be helped up only wobbly legs after a moment.

Polite cheers came from the audience when Maurice announced, “Destiny is now our sister!”

Destiny had passed already. She was done. She was officially a member of the Four-Oh Crew. Meanwhile, I had only my fourth cock of the night inside my young pussy. I had five more to go before I would done.

Most of the men in the room could care less about Destiny’s success and that gave me renewed energy. They were watching me, a tight, white little suburban girl with a thick cock in her pussy and taking it like a pro. They’d been watching me as the main attraction all night. So who cared if Destiny was done? She’d only taken three cocks. Big deal!

I ground my sore butt back against the fourth cock of the night, which seemed to be taking forever, and started to enjoy myself again. The crowd gave me energy and strength as everyone in it started to chant my name. They seemed to sense that I was about to cum again and they were eager to see it happen.

Well before it could, though, the man with all that stamina and patience gripped me by the waist and pulled out of me. While doing so he twisted my body so that I was no longer on all fours. I was now on my side.

Maurice called out a new ticket number. The fifth cock of the night got to me quick, just as number four jerked off onto my face. I gasped and cooed as he did and the room erupted its approval of the disparaging scene. Meanwhile cock number five plowed into my pussy from above this time. He gripped my left tit and forced me to stay on my side. I curled my toes and accepted his brutal entry with a gasp of pleasure.

Cocks five and six were pretty much the same. Each pummeled me, but neither got me off. The eruptions on my face or down my throat were degrading and disgusting in some ways, but I was so sexually charged and entirely stoned that I didn’t care. In a way I cared more about giving my audience a good show than in my own silly pleasure. I only came for the third time that night when I couldn’t take all the attention anymore and my immature body and likewise my brain became so lost that the orgasm surprised even me. When the seventh cock of the night erupted on my cum-soaked face I shrieked loud as my stoned head took in every pleasurable detail along with every degrading detail of my actions. I was lost in the moment and when it was over and I was done cumming I fell off of my side and onto my back.

I was in full missionary position for the eighth cock. He lasted barely five minutes before going to my face. I had barely enough strength left to lick the head of his swollen member as he face-fucked me at the awkward, somewhat painful agnle. I didn’t care. I had a permanent smile plastered on my face. It was a stoned smile, an overstimulated smile. I tried my best to give him what I’d given all the others but really I was losing steam. I knew it, and I think the crowd knew it, too.

When the ninth cock entered me I really was at the end of my limits. My 13-year-old pussy was amazingly resilient but no one gets trained by nine well-hung African Americans without repercussions. For me this meant I was now at zero energy. My tanks were drained. I couldn’t give a show anymore. There was no way I would quit at this point, I knew, but I was like Destiny now. I was just enduring everything. Even being stoned wasn’t helping me anymore. All I could do was lay on my back and take this latest, long spear of a cock inside me with a whimper.

Until I realized whose cock it was.

That ninth and final cock was slow and sure inside my tight white box. It took its time in me. It seemed to respect I was out of juice, that I couldn’t be expected to give much back. It got into a slow, happy rhythm inside me, expertly pushing all the right buttons and finding my g-spot without difficulty. The crowd began to chant its owner’s name.

“Maurice! Maurice! Maurice!”

In a daze, I looked up. Sure enough the gang-leader was above me, carefully and expertly guiding his cock in and out of my pussy. He didn’t need to force it because I was wet. But he could have just focused on his own desire like so many of the others had. Instead he seemed to care about how it made me feel.

When I realized this I lost control of myself again. I had renewed strength, renewed energy. Not a second wind so much as a third or fourth one. Maurice was making me feel things I’d never felt before. With him it wasn’t about size. He wasn’t as long as Ty had been and he wasn’t as thick as some of the others, either. But he knew how to ride a women. He knew how to work his magic. My juices flowed naturally again.

The crowd was still chanting his name but I no longer heard it. I was too preoccupied with his hands on my sensitive little breasts, his thrusting hips, the feeling of his dark flesh inside my pale body. When I came for the fourth time that night it took a long time and he rode me all the way through.

Maurice was my ninth and final of the night. And unlike all the others he shot his cum up inside my womb. I wrapped my young white legs around his dark body as he did and gasped at the feeling of being filled up with his sperm. I panted with pleasure the entire time until his cock softened and he was finished.

There was a cheer of triumph from the crowd when Maurice finally stood up. In a daze I watched him nod his head to everyone. He said, “Welcome our new sister, Becky.”

Thunderous applauds followed his words. I felt stupid and silly, laying on my back with cum dribbling out of my pussy. But I wasn’t embarrassed. Not in the least. I had just completed a lengthy initiation into a new family. I sort of felt proud. I rubbed my thighs together and smiled.

Maurice, still naked, helped me up from the bed. I was still sore from the court-in earlier. Worse, I was sore from the brutal fucking I’d just endured. I was also stoned, depleted, and post-orgasmic. I felt entirely spent from head to toe. I also felt something else.

I felt happy.

Lee met me at the side of the bed. He had my clothes in his arms. He said, “Better get you home.”

I nodded. My high was waning and I was feeling both sublime and ruined. Ruined only because I was on empty now. Physically and mentally I was entirely drained.

Maurice said to Lee, “We’re all filing out. It’s almost 8:30.”

I dressed as Maurice, Lee, and Ty talked with a half dozen others around me. I didn’t even try to listen to what they were saying. Some were congratulating me, I knew, but I was shell-shocked by what I’d been through and I had pains in muscles I hadn’t even known existed before. After clasping the last button on my white Catholic School uniform I finally spoke. I whispered, “I, uhm … if I’m not home shoon I’m in big trouble…”

Lee gripped me gently by my upper right arm in response. “Let’s go,” he said.

I stumbled at his side through the thinning crowd of the bar. I kept looking back for Maurice but he was already gone. When we got outside it was dark already. If Lee hadn’t been there to guide me there was no way I would have found my way back to Ty’s house.

I got in Lee’s car once we got there. He did, too, and started the engine. Before pulling out of the driveway he said, “Sorry ’bout that.”

He had lighted a new joint and I took it when it was offered. I was on automatic pilot still. After sucking down a deep hit I said, “Shorry about what?”

“I looked everywhere,” he said. “Couldn’t find your … undies.”

I took the joint back. I sucked on it for a long while, feeling confused. I said, “What do you mean?”

He blew out a puff of smoke. He said, “Couldn’t find your undies, girl. Looked all over. Some motherfucker must have stole them.”

I accepted the joint again, but I was laughing now. I tried to hit it, but couldn’t because of my giggle-fit. Finally I managed to say, “There were no pantiesh! I washn’t wearing any!”

He took the joint back after I took my hit. He pulled the car out of the driveway with a grin on his face.

“Figures,” he said as he smoke and drove at the same time. “You white bitches is crazy.”

 

He got me home just before nine. I was really stoned. We had smoked the entire way.

“Lee?” I said after he put his car in park three houses down from where I lived. There was something I wanted to ask him and I had been worrying about it the whole way home. I was worried because I wasn’t sure I would like the answer when I got it. My paranoia, amplified by the pot, kept telling me that the answer would be bad. But I had to know.

He raised his eyebrows at me. I looked down into my lap and said, “What happensh … now? With me?”

He kept his eyebrows up. He nodded his head toward my suburban neighborhood street and said, “You get out. Go home.”

That wasn’t what I’d meant, of course, and I think he knew it. I said, “I mean, with the … gang? I mean, what … what am I shupposed to do now?”

He stared at me for a long moment. Eventually he lit a real cigarette, took a hit, and said, “Whatever you want, girl. You wanna never see us again, that’s cool. You wanna go back on bein’ a slave to Fat-Dan, that cool.”

My eyes went wide. “I don’t want that!”

He nodded once. Without a word he left his cigarette dangling between his lips and leaned over my body. He reached to the glove compartment, opened it, and pulled out a box full of matchbooks. He retrieved one, closed the compartment, and leaned back in his seat. Using the light from a lamppost he’d parked under he wrote something inside the matchbook and handed it to me.

“Top number’s my cell,” he said after I took it. “Bottom’s my pager. Fat-Man Dan come around buggin’ ya, you call. Page me 911 if it’s an emergency.”

A slight smile formed on my face out of sheer gratitude. I put the matchbook in my purse but continued to stare at him. After a moment he said, “What?”

“Jusht, uhm … if I do want to shee you guys again,” I said in a soft voice, “will I have to … do anything?”

He laughed. “Damn, girl! Don’t ya get it? You’re a member, now! You ain’t got to do shit if you don’t want! You want to stay here in the subs and listen to Justin-Fuckin-Timberlake all day, that cool. You want to come hang, that cool to. No one’s gonna make ya fuck nobody you don’t want to no more.”

I blushed. While it was sort of a relief to hear that I wouldn’t be forced to do anything sexual anymore if I didn’t want to, that hadn’t been what I meant. I’d been afraid that being a member of the gang meant I’d have to help them do illegal stuff, like rob stores or get into gang-wars or deal drugs or something like that.

He must of realized I was still unsure because he said, “Look, girl– Becky. Maurice just wanted ta make sure you had steel, ya know? That you wouldn’t go runnin’ on home to Mommy and Daddy or the poh-lice. You proved that tonight. Far as he’s concerned, you never want to come on back and hang, that’s cool. No one’s gonna ask you ta do nothin’, you hear me?”

Relief flooded through me and this time I did smile. I batted my eyelashes at him while I did and he seemed to smile back.

“Now go on, get,” he said. “I gots to get back and you gots to get home.”

I nodded and reached for the door handle. I froze though when my intoxicated brain remembered one last question I had to ask. Turning back to him I said, “Why didn’t you want to fuck me tonight?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I did, girl. Lord knows I did. But it ain’t that simple.”

I gave him a sloppy grin. “Shure it is,” I said. “I think after watching what I did tonight you’d know how shimple it can be…”

Lee finished his cigarette and tossed it out his window. He said, “I ain’t like most men, Becky. I was ‘fraid I’d hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” I said, surprised by his answer. I’d figured he’d chosen not to fuck me because he thought I was too young or that he wasn’t attracted to me.

He decided to answer me by grabbing my left wrist and placing it on his lap. What I found there made my jaw drop and my pussy pulse with desire. I’d had more orgasms that day than I’d ever had before but what he was forcing me to feel was making my pubescent and stoned young brain horny all over again.

It was the outline of his cock. He guided my hand down the side of his leg and the incredibly thick outline just kept on going down. And down. And down. When it finally ended, just a few inches shy of his knee, I understood what he meant.

“That’sh … that’sh… ,” I said, my voice a mere whisper. I stared at my hand, at the outline of his monstrously huge cock, then back at his face. I said, “How big… ?”

“Big,” he sighed. He didn’t seem proud of his enormous girth. He said, “Even after watchin’ ya with the others tonight I don’t think you coulda taken this without getting’ damaged. Grown women I fuck, even, takes them time to get used to it. I just didn’t wanna hurt ya.”

I whetted my lips involuntarily. I stared back at his leg and the sight of my small hand softly gripping the outline of his massive dick. It was larger, much larger, than anything that had ever been inside me before. I couldn’t imagine that it could possibly ever fit inside my tight cunt. Even so, the idea of trying was getting my juices flowing again. I looked at him and my stoned eyes were pleading.

He shook his head. “Go on home, girl,” he said. It sounded like an order and that disappointed me. Without a word I let go of him and reached down and picked up my back-pack. I started to turn toward the passenger door but hesitated when he said, “‘Course, you ever wanna come hang with me, go on and call one of those numbers. I’ll even give you rides, both ways.”

I smiled. Turning to him I said, “What about, you know, the whole ‘carbon footprint’ thing? Wouldn’t, uhm … Al Gore frown on all that driving?”

He was lighting another cigarette. “Gore my boy,” he said, sounding dead serious. “Even he’d understand putting a little mo’ CO2 in the air for a piece like you.”

I laughed and shook my head. A minute later I watched as his big old car rumbled down my street. I smiled the entire way as I walked home.

 

My dad took one look at me when I entered the family room. He raised an eyebrow then threw back a bottle of beer he’d been nursing. He was watching some kind of action movie with two of my brothers and he turned back to it. I stared at his profile for a moment and wondered if I should just leave and go up to my bedroom. Unfortunately it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“What happened to your face?” he asked just as I was about to turn away and leave. He could have been asking me about the weather given his tone of voice.

I took a deep breath. My brothers were staring at me but my dad was looking at the television. I was so stoned that I was sure I would sound strange if I said anything. I had no choice, though, so I tried to think of what I normally sounded like. After a pause long enough to warrant another look from my dad I forced myself to say, “Uhm, Melissha and I went roller blading … I had to use her shister’s shkates ’cause I didn’t bring mine with me and they were a little too shmall, I guessh. I ended up … tripping.”

I had concocted the lie during the walk home to my house. Lee had dropped me off down the street so that my dad wouldn’t spot his car and know that some large black man had driven his daughter home.

My lie seemed to satisfy my dad. He grunted and took another swig from his beer. My brothers were still staring at me, though. They probably noticed how messy my hair was, how disheveled my clothes were, and how much my legs were shaking. If Dad hadn’t been there they would have surely pressed me for details. I knew there was no way my lie would have stood up under cross-examination and that was what I feared most. Thankfully for me my dad didn’t care enough to ask for any details.

My dad seemed engrossed with the movie again. I waited until my brothers looked back at the large screen before slowly slinking away. When I got to the stairs I took them quickly to my room. Once there I dropped my purse, my backpack, and stripped off all of my clothes. They reeked of weed and I wanted to get rid of them. I stuffed them into my hamper and stumbled around my room in a stoned daze looking for pajamas. When the search took too long for my exhausted body I finally just collapsed onto my mattress in the buff.

I was probably conscious about thirty full seconds. During that time I felt my body throb everywhere it was hurt. I also felt my tight, recently fucked pussy squeeze together around the cum Maurice had left for me there. Images of what I had gone through that day flashed through my head and when I fell asleep all I could feel was happiness.

 

CHAPTER 8

 

The day after the gang initiation I stayed home from school. Physically I was just too sore to consider going so I told my dad that I was sick. I was so emotionally drained by the previous day’s events that when I asked I sounded as meek and miserable as I felt. My dad called me in without any objection.

On Friday I felt better. Physically, the wounds I sustained during the court-in on Wednesday had been mostly superficial and were already healed. The soreness from fucking all those gang members was also mostly gone and I could actually walk and sit without wincing. On the outside I knew I looked like my normal pretty, timid self and that made me feel better inside. What made me feel even better than that was a plan I’d come up with on Thursday while laying in my bed and feeling miserable.

The plan was simple: I was going to just pretend nothing depraved or perverted or sexual had ever happened to me. None of it. Nothing about the gang, nothing about Amy, and especially nothing about my time as a sex slave to Daniel. All of those recent experiences, while sexually exhilarating, were wicked and wrong and made me feel terribly dirty inside. The answer was to just pretend that none of them had occurred, that I had never stopped being the innocent girl I had once been. From now on, I promised myself, I would stay away from dirty movies and magazines. I wouldn’t flirt with strangers and I wouldn’t fantasize about doing anything with them. If for some reason I got too horny to restrain myself I would just masturbate in the shower. That was all I would do. I wouldn’t even masturbate in bed anymore. I would return to being shy about my vagina, rubbing it only in the privacy of the bathroom and biting my lip to hide my cries and moans. It would be my only form of sexual pleasure until my wedding night someday. Until then I would be a good Catholic girl again– I’d dress appropriately at all times, say my prayers, read my bible, and study hard in my classes. Most of all I would think pure thoughts and forget all about the past couple of months and all my depraved and dirty experiences.

This strategy of denial helped me get to sleep Thursday night and made me feel great the next day at school. I studied hard in class and even chatted with Melissa a little bit between the classes we shared. It felt good to return to my old ways of behaving– I was even wearing panties for the first time in weeks– and I decided that after doing my homework when I got home I would get rid of the Book of Sins and any other evidence of my former, wicked ways. I would burn them, I decided, the book and everything else. It would be like purging my soul of all its wicked sins.

First, though, I had to do a load of laundry. When I got home I raced to do just that, bringing down my hamper from my bedroom to the basement. As the washing machine filled with soapy water I dropped in my light colored clothing, one piece at a time, examining each to make sure it would fit with my newly restored life of innocence. Some of the tops would have to be thrown out, articles of clothing that Daniel had either really liked or had personally purchased for me. Others simply brought back bad memories. I decided I would wash them first then donate them to the Salvation Army.

Everything was going great until I came across a pair of panties. I almost dropped them into the machine without thinking but before they slipped out of my hand I froze. I brought the garment closer to my eyes to inspect them as a feeling of dread ensnared my heart. I held the underwear out and looked closely at the light gray silk material with the little bow in the middle of the back waistband. Something was wrong. After a pause I knew what it was, too.

They shouldn’t have been there. I hadn’t been wearing underwear, in accordance with Daniel’s orders, for weeks. So why was it in my hamper? It didn’t make any sense. I turned the underwear around and examined the front and that’s where I saw the stain, a light milky color right where the fabric would cover my pussy. It was a stain I was familiar with, after weeks of being Daniel’s sex slave, a stain I’d had to scrub out of many an outfit after Daniel fucked me as he sometimes had while I was still wearing my school uniform. It was a semen stain, it was obvious, and I gasped out loud at the realization.

My mind clouded over as the implications of this hit me. The underwear slipped out of my fingers, which had gone limp, and fell into the churning washing machine below. I stared in confusion as the sudsy water swallowed my panties up and finally hid them from my view. I went onto tip-toes, unconsciously trying to catch a glimpse of my underwear again, but it was impossible. I felt numb all over as I returned to my hamper. My hands shook as I picked through the remainder of my soiled clothes, dropping the light colored garments into the machine again as I had before, terrified that I would stumble across another pair of panties. I didn’t.

I closed the machine and walked back upstairs on numb legs. I didn’t stop walking until I was up the next flight of stairs and safely in my bedroom. I forgot all about my homework as I fell onto my bed and thought about the gray silk panties with the semen stain being cleaned out of them in the basement. How had they gotten into my hamper? How had the stain gotten on them? What the heck was going on?

I fought against the truth for a long while. I tried to convince myself that maybe, maybe Daniel had told me to wear panties one day. Or perhaps I had brought them with me to his place and he’d used them to clean off his prick after fucking me. Maybe I’d just forgotten about it. After all the last few weeks had been crazy. The part of me that wanted to lead a new life of innocence and purity wanted to believe there was a good explanation for the panties and the stain.

It was no use. Deep down I knew that had I worn any panties since Daniel had ordered me not to, I would have remembered. I sure as heck remembered the one time I had defied him and pulled on a pair before my dad spanked me a couple of weeks earlier. Except for the “special” pair he’d made me wear to church as punishment, that had been the last time I’d worn any. I also remembered washing them that week during my normal load of laundry. All of my underwear, then, should be clean and folded in the top drawer of my dresser.

But they weren’t. There was one pair, in the basement, tumbling around inside the washing machine. They had a semen stain on them, too. That could mean only one thing: someone had stolen the panties from my drawer, gotten semen on them, then hid them in my hamper thinking that I’d never notice. I wouldn’t have, either, except for the fact I hadn’t been wearing underwear the last few weeks. Whoever had done it hadn’t known that. Also, whoever had done it had access to my bedroom.

A chill ran down the back of my spine as I squeezed my thighs together. The feeling of the panties I was currently wearing suddenly felt suffocating. I pulled up my pleated skirt and without a thought pushed my underwear down my slender legs and kicked them off my bed. I left my skirt pulled up around my waist and squeezed my legs together again, feeling better now that there was no underwear there. My mind raced with images of one of my brothers, or even my dad, sneaking into my bedroom and stealing the gray panties. I imagined them, each member of my family in turn, holding the silk fabric to their nostrils and inhaling the faint scent of my pussy. In my head I pictured them wrapping the small piece of underwear around their cocks, jerking themselves with it, groaning as they came. I wondered if they’d been thinking of me while they did and knew that they must have. I felt a shameful, perverse pleasure at the idea and realized I was wet between my thighs.

Forgetting everything about my plan to be nothing but innocent, pure and chaste, I reached down and began to rub myself. The touch of my finger made my whole body shudder and with my free hand I began to squeeze one of my small breasts through my shirt. I slipped my finger between my slender labia and found my clit and pressed there and groaned. All thoughts of innocence, of even wanting to be innocent, disappeared as I pictured my brothers, my own flesh and blood, jerking off with my panties. It was so wrong and twisted that it stirred all the carnal and depraved wantings in my soul. It didn’t take long for me to cum and when I did I screeched out with perverse delight.

Time went by slowly following the orgasm. I laid in my bed, my legs naked save for my white socks. My thighs were still splayed wide with my hand between them for what seemed like hours before I pushed them together again and pressed back down my skirt. I licked my lips with my eyes closed as the lingering images of my brothers and father faded away. Shame and desire and satisfaction wrapped around me like a blanket. A thick, comforting blanket I had missed for less than a day but miss it I had.

Never had a self-induced orgasm felt so important. I didn’t want to suppress my feelings anymore. Something had clicked inside me and it felt good. Even the perversity of one of my own family members masturbating with my most private clothing felt good. Maybe it was just the feeling of finally accepting what I was, but it was real. My feelings were real and I just had to embrace them. I enjoyed sex too much to just stop having it, to wait for a wedding night someday. I enjoyed masturbating too much to do it only while thinking “safe thoughts” while cuddled up in the corner of the shower. No, I had to be what I was.

But what if, I wondered, my yearnings and perverse desires got me into trouble again someday? Well, I would just have to get my pleasure in the safest, least harmful way possible. I sat up in bed and sighed. Tears had been trickling down my face, I was surprised to find. I wiped them away with my dry hand and made up my mind about what I was going to do.

After dialing Lee’s number on my cell phone I began to have second thoughts. What kept me from hanging up before he answered was the realization that I needed him. It wasn’t just for the sex I so desperately needed. It was more than that. I needed him to keep me safe from my own perverse, carnal desires. I had just masturbated while thinking about my brothers. What had been a fake confession to Father DeGrazia almost a week ago was now reality. There was no way I’d ever be able to be pure or innocent, not with a mind like mine. If I didn’t find someone to fuck, someone safe, eventually I’d go back to doing crazy and fucked up things. It was how I was wired. There would be another Daniel, or something similar, if there wasn’t a strong and safe hand in my life to both pleasure me and guide me. I needed Lee to be that hand.

“Lee here.”

I spoke quietly with him on the phone, my voice breathless and lustful and childlike all at the same time. He seemed to understand what I was calling about without me ever having to come out and say it. He kept saying, “Uh huh,” to things even I didn’t understand. I went on and on, talking sort of erratically, and leaving out specific details or requests. But by the time I was done blathering he seemed to get it.

“Girl, like I said the other night, you more than welcome at my crib anytime.”

I could hear him smiling through the phone and I felt wonderful. Unfortunately, before I could say anything else he told me that he was out of town on business and couldn’t see me that night. It was like being told my best friend had died, for a moment, but then he said, “How ’bout tomorrow, girl? I can pick ya up around noon, have you home for bedtime. How’s that?”

My heart, which had been breaking, now swelled with joy. I said, “Yes, that’s … great. Thank you … thank you so much!”

He chuckled. “We’ll have a good time, hang out and smoke some and who knows what else.”

“That’s perfect,” I whispered with a stupid grin on my face. I agreed to call him back the next day to arrange being picked up before ending the call. When it was over I fell back into my bed again with a sigh as I imagined Lee’s huge penis. He would be my salvation, I thought. I couldn’t be pure but at least I could refrain from doing anything stupid so long as I had him to satisfy my horny urges. I was convinced that he would.

 

Dinner that night was pizza, as was our Friday tradition.

It was my first Friday evening home since being Daniel’s slave and my father wondered why I wasn’t out with friends. I told him that none of my friends could hang out that evening and thankfully he believed me. As normal I had difficulty lying to my dad, but tonight was even worse.

I was always meek and shy around my family, especially when my father was around. What made things worse that night was that I kept feeling everyone’s eyes on me. My brothers’, my father’s, all of them. While setting out the plates and napkins for dinner I kept wondering which one of them had jerked off with my underwear. I kept wondering if the culprit in the room was picturing me naked right now. It made me regret the old yellow t-shirt I had on since I was positive at least the outline of my black bra was showing through. It’s all in your head, I repeatedly told myself, but it didn’t help. The thought of my brothers and dad hiding erections while eating their pizza made me feel both embarrassed and aroused. I don’t think I ever stopped blushing.

Tyler, my eldest brother, arrived late to the meal. He’d had to work late that night and made his apologizes while grabbing a beer from the fridge. He was the only one my dad let drink other than himself. He said, “That prick Todd made me service one last truck before letting me off.”

“Language at the table,” my dad said in a stern voice, interrupting him.

Tyler’s eyes glanced over at me. I was the reason for the no-profanity rule, I knew. I was sure my dad and brothers cussed all the time when I wasn’t around. “Sorry, sis,” he mumbled. Looking back at my dad he said, “Anyway, good news is I won’t have to work that shift tomorrow after all. So I can make it.”

My dad smiled, his mouth full of food. He waited until he had swallowed then said, “That’s great. That’s f- … just great.”

Something was going on. My dad looked around the table with that broad smile on his face. Jason and Ron looked as confused as I was. Our father said, “I have some good news, guys. I decided one last trip to the lake would be a lot of fun this weekend. Getting a might chilly out there, but weather’s supposed to be fine. I was just waiting to see if Tyler could make it before breaking the news.”

Ron immediately said, “Sweet!” At 15 he was my youngest older brother and probably the one most in awe of my dad. I knew he enjoyed those fishing trips a great deal.

“I bet the wall eye’ll be biting for us this time,” Tyler grinned. Like Ron, he emulated our father’s passions for camping and fishing. Now that he was nearly ready to move out and start his own life, though, he wasn’t always at our dad’s beck and call anymore.

“Damn,” Jason muttered under his breath.

He was sitting right next to me so I’m sure I was the only one who heard the curse word. Otherwise my dad would have gotten mad. Instead he just looked confused. “What’s wrong, boy? Thought we had fun last time.”

“Nothing,” Jason moped. “Just … I had some plans for the weekend.”

Jason was my second oldest brother. At 17 he was the one who most often rebelled at our dad’s idea of “fun”. His personality was very similar to our dad’s but his hobby preferences were almost the complete opposite. I knew he usually dreaded trips to the lake.

Our father shrugged his thick shoulders. “Cancel ’em, then. You’ll have plenty of more weekends before fishin’ season returns. Becky,” he said, turning his eyes to me, “fetch me a beer. Please.”

He was annoyed with Jason, I could tell, but I didn’t let that stop me from being the obedient little daughter and going to the fridge for him. I took my time there when I heard my dad hissing across the table at Jason. His voice was too low for me to hear but I was sure Jason was getting a mouthful. My dad hated being crossed. I waited until the hissing stopped before returning with my dad’s beer.

The rest of our dinner my dad spoke only of the weekend. Ron and Tyler were as excited as he was but Jason looked really annoyed. He kept glaring at me, too, as though it was somehow my fault. I guess he was mad because I got to stay home and he didn’t. Since Jason was the brother I liked the least I would have usually glared back at him, even at the supper table, but not on that night. My mind was filled with too many emotions, anxiety chief among them. Plus, I couldn’t stop thinking that Tyler, especially, was spending way too much time glaring at me in a different way. At my chest. Maybe he was the one who’d masturbated with my panties. The thought made me blush and shudder.

It’s all in your head! I repeated over and over inside. Just don’t think about it!

After clearing the table and cleaning up the pizza boxes I ran the dishwasher and then finished folding my laundry. My dad found me while I was doing this in my bedroom and gave me the same speech he’d given a couple months earlier. About how I’d be expected to behave over the weekend while he and my brothers were gone. About how I had to do my chores. He reminded me that I was to call Mrs. Sanford across the street if anything happened. But then he did give me some good news: I was allowed to hang out with friends and stay out until 10pm!

“No friends at the house, mind you, but I let Mrs. Sanford know about your curfew. You can expect she’ll be keeping an eye out,” he said. After that he gave me his credit card so that I could buy food and spend “no more than $20 on movies and cokes”.

I nodded to him and smiled my thanks. It was what a good and grateful daughter should do, I thought. I had to hide the hammering in my chest: I’d still be able to see Lee the next day! And maybe I could even sneak him into the house, too. Maybe we could hang out here. How would my dad ever find out?

I think he misread the look on my face because he said, “Look, Becky, these trips to the lake … they’re for the boys. You’re too young to understand but trust me, you wouldn’t have fun. You’ll have more fun here, alone with your studies.”

“I know, Daddy,” I whispered. I dared not speak too loud. “I’ll be good. I’ll be safe. You guys just have fun.”

He kissed me on the forehead after that. It was awkward: my dad’s affections were always awkward. He was too hard and stern of a man for affection to come through naturally. Yet he forced it that time and it made me feel weird.

I lied in bed knowing for a fact that night that the person who had stolen my panties from my drawer, the one who had jerked off with them, could not be my dad. He thought that I was too pure to do that with my underwear. It was why he was so stern with me. He saw it as his job to keep me pure and chaste. He might not love me, exactly, but he felt a duty to keep me the little girl he saw me as. It’s why he kept me in a Catholic school. It’s why he was so hard on me whenever I screwed up. It’s why he hid profanity from me and tried his best to always use his manners around me.

So it was one of my brothers. I couldn’t sleep until nearly midnight, and it wasn’t because I was thinking of Lee. I was thinking of sweet Ron, asshole Jason, and overconfident Tyler.

Which of them had done it? Whoever it was, he saw me as a sex-object. How else could he do that with my panties? Could it be all of them? The thought made me shudder.

Three horny brothers, I thought. I felt humiliated and trapped and horny.

I masturbated late that night and felt dirty afterward. Even so, I fell asleep with a smile when I finally did think of Lee.

He’ll keep me safe, I thought as I drifted off. He’ll keep my horny urges sated. He’ll protect me from myself.

 

The next morning I awoke early. Without dressing out of my pajamas I ran downstairs and checked the driveway. My dad’s SUV was gone. He had said they’d be leaving at 5am and so, as it turns out, they had. I felt myself smiling from ear to ear as I fixed myself a bowl of cereal.

Alone. It was so much fun to be alone, so relaxing. I drank a glass of orange juice and decided to get to work on my chores right away. I was filled with energy, eager to make the time pass as quickly as possible so that noon would arrive and Lee would come pick me up. Or come to stay the weekend with me, maybe. I would definitely ask him when he called at 11am. Once I finished my breakfast I ran upstairs, changed into a long-sleeved red turtleneck shirt and my overalls. I was still so used to not wearing underwear that I didn’t think to put any on.

The first thing I did was walk the dogs. I was surprised to find that only Marshall and Ike were in the kennel. My dad usually only took one with him to the lake. Oh, well, I thought. It’ll be that much easier to walk them!

They were eager to go for a walk, and eager to see me. I only ever saw them during my Saturday chores ever since my dad had started loaning them out for breeding purposes. I knew it was stupid, but the fact that they were getting regular sex from a real bitch sort of made me jealous. I forced myself not to think about that as I attached their leashes, though. I didn’t want to start down that path again, the path to fucking them. My plan was to have Lee satisfy my sexual urges. I knew he would. I just had to put off my dirty, depraved thoughts long enough to see him. Only a few hours. I could do it.

The walk was brisk and the dogs set a quick pace. I took them all around the neighborhood but avoided Jody’s street. The last time I had taken them down that way I’d run across her and she and the rest of my former friends had been so mean to me. I didn’t want to relive the experience anymore than was necessary.

When we got back to the house I put the dogs in the fenced-in area attached to the kennel and decided to get myself a bottle of water before I went about cleaning out the kennel. I hated that weekly chore more than anything but getting it out of the way now would be a good idea. As I stood in the kitchen greedily drinking down the bottle of water, though, I suddenly had an idea.

It was like time had slowed down as the idea entered my head. I was alone with the dogs. I still had smooth peanut butter hidden upstairs in my bedroom. And all the thoughts I’d had about Lee during the walk had made me horny. Well, hornier, actually. I’d awoken horny.

No, I thought to myself. But already the idea was making my pussy tingle. I stared out the window with the plastic bottle against my lips while memories of those massive mastiff tongues on my cunt filled my brain. It’d been so long. Since before I became Daniel’s slave. What if, just one more time…

I inhaled deeply and made up my mind. I was alone so there was no risk. And I could use Marshall, he was always so gentle. What was the harm?

Leviticus 18:23, my Catholic brain quoted to me, “A woman must not offer herself to a male animal to have intercourse with it; this is a perverse act.” There was also the fact that I had promised myself to wait for Lee, that I didn’t need to do anything sick or depraved in the meantime. I debated the decision a little bit more then said out loud, “Fuck it!”. It felt good to curse, something I never did, especially not in the house. I giggled as I finished the bottle of water and headed toward my bedroom.

I trembled during the walk back downstairs, out into the slightly overcast and chill Autumn day. Yes, a woman shouldn’t offer herself to animals for intercourse. But I didn’t want intercourse. I just wanted a little doggy-tongue on my clit. There was no harm in that, I rationalized. Besides, a good orgasm would leave me primed for better ones later, with Lee.

I wasn’t thinking logically. I never did when I was horny. The thought of getting off right now with Marshall made me very horny and I just couldn’t help myself.

One last time, I thought. One last little licking from Marshall. What’s the harm? Later I’ll be with Lee, and maybe become his girlfriend even, and I won’t have to resort to any kind of wickedness again…

When I entered the fenced-in area I had no problem leading my favorite dog back into the kennel. Maybe he knew what was coming. I felt sort of bad about that since I definitely wasn’t going to let him fuck me. That would be too much. I couldn’t fuck a dog the same day I first fucked Lee! That would be totally against my plan.

I slid the huge door of the kennel shut and he panted with his tongue out at me. It was like he knew exactly what was about to happen.

He followed me to my dad’s work area and started to whine, a happy sound, as I undid my overalls after taking off my dirty old work-boots. I sat down on my dad’s chair, relishing the memories of what that meant, and unscrewed the lid off the peanut butter jar. I was naked from the waist down. I’d left my red turtleneck shirt on because it was a bit chilly today. I made a mental note to turn on the kennel’s heater once I finished with Marshall.

After smearing a handful of the peanut butter over my shaved cunt I urged Marshall over. He didn’t take much convincing. Even though it had been awhile the 175-pound animal seemed to remember what to do. He began to lick up the butter and I screeched with delight the first time his rough-tongue rasped across my young twat.

I was in heaven. It’d been so long since I’d had any of the dogs do this that I’d forgotten how good it could be. My mind began to fill with memories of being fucked by them, too, but I shook those off. I would not offer myself for intercourse with them. I couldn’t do that, and I wouldn’t. But animals were made to service man, God had given us dominion over them. If I wanted him to eat me out then I could make him eat me out and not return the favor. And boy was he eating me out.

I spread my smooth white thighs farther apart and clutched Marshall behind his big, floppy doggy-ears. He didn’t need any encouragement. The peanut butter was gone already but still there was that constant lick-lick-licking of his rough tongue, now drinking up my juices. I groaned and moaned and flipped my head back in ecstasy. Somewhere in the background I heard an electronic click-click-clicking sound, but it didn’t register at first over the sounds of my own intense breathing and Marshall’s sloppy tongue. I was too lost in the feelings the large canine was giving me, his tongue lapping against my slit, slowly pressing my lips apart, squirming at my hole…

It felt so good, so deplorable, so wrong, that I cried out with pleasure before I heard my brother’s words.

“Wow!”

It was Jason. He was standing just a few feet inside the kennel, the huge door slid open only just wide enough to let him enter. His left hand was gripping his chin, a look of pure joy and surprise on his face. In his right hand, which was extended out in my direction, he held his cell-phone.

He was taking pictures with it.

“NOOOOO!” I cried, even as Marshall’s tongue continued to lap against my womanhood.

Jason laughed, turned, and shot like a bullet out of the kennel. I watched him go with nothing but dread and panic in my heart. Even in the midst of that feeling of terror, though, there was still the tongue licking me, and I was nearing an orgasm, and for just a moment I almost gave myself over to it.

Then reality hit. Jason, my second oldest brother, had just seen me being eaten out by one of our father’s beloved mastiffs. Why was he home? Were they all home? Would Tyler and Ron soon enter the kennel? Would my dad be next? The kennel door was still open. I was still naked from the waist down. There was still a giant dog’s head between my thighs. I felt mortified and panicked like I never had before in my life. All the ecstasy I had been feeling seconds before flooded out of me in an instant.

“Marshall, back!” I cried.

My voice was filled with fear but the dog obeyed after I pushed at his head and repeated the order. He rested on his haunches, his mighty tail wagging behind him in the dirt. He was looking up at me expectantly, probably thinking I’d get on all fours for him now, that I would become his bitch since I was obviously in heat.

“No!” I cried again, my voice desperate. I jumped to my feet and nearly fell over. My legs were weak. Somehow, in a blur, I pulled on my overalls. I didn’t bother with the boots. I stumbled out of the kennel and both Marshall and Ike followed me, whining all the way, until I reached the gate that led out of the fenced-in area.

“Shoo, shoo!” I stammered at the mastiffs. That kept them back even though both of their tails were wagging like crazy.

They can smell my pussy, I thought. It was one of a million random thoughts I had as I entered the house. My heart hammered in my chest with blind fear until I got to the front window and looked out at the driveway.

My dad’s SUV wasn’t there. That was a huge relief, but it only calmed me down a little. It just suggested that my dad, Tyler, and Ron really had left for the lake. But what about Jason? He was still here. He was definitely here.

“No, no, no,” I whispered to myself. I was still shaking all over.

I stood there at the window for a few minutes, willing myself to believe that I’d only imagined Jason had seen me. It was just my guilty conscience, I told myself. But I couldn’t believe it. He really had been there. I’d seen him. I’d heard the camera-phone.

What am I going to do?!? I wondered.

I was in full-blown crying mode when I got to his bedroom door. First I tried the doorknob but it was locked, as always. I banged against the door. “Jason!” I cried. “Please, Jason! Open up!”

“Just a minute!” he yelled back in a cheery voice. “I just need to finish uploading one more picture…”

“JASON!” I yelled, my voice breaking in panic as I banged on the door again, “PLEASE! We need to TALK!”

He ignored that. I stood there, outside his bedroom door, trying to catch my breath in silence. I banged on the door one more time and whined, “Jason? Please? Jason!”

I heard movement in the room and finally the door opened. There was my brother, all smug and full of himself, holding the door and the door-frame with either hand. He said, “Yes?”

At first I didn’t know what to say. I stared at him in disbelief and terror for so long that he made a fake yawning gesture. Finally I sobbed, “What are you doing here?” Tears were rolling out my red eyes down my red cheeks. “You … you…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sis,” he said. There was nothing apologetic in his tone. “This morning I convinced Dad that I wanted to stay home because I had a hot date planned. Don’t know why I never thought of it before since Dad always says good pussy is hard to find. Anyway, he bought it, and that’s why I’m here. But if you’ll excuse me, I have some pictures I want to share with some friends and family…”

He began to shut the door.

“No!” I stammered. He wouldn’t really do it, I thought, he wouldn’t really send out the pictures he’d taken to his friends and God knew who else. Would he?

“What, Becky?” he asked, pretending not to know what I was so upset about. “You don’t want me to send pictures? Why?”

“Please,” I begged. “Can we talk? Please?”

He sighed. “Fine,” he said in a sarcastic tone of voice. “But make it quick.” He opened the door for me.

I entered his bedroom cautiously. It’d been a long time since I’d been inside. Like the rest of my brothers he had a lock on his door, effectively banning me from entering when they didn’t want me inside. Jason, more than all of my brothers, never wanted me inside.

His bed was nestled against the far wall, in the corner, a large Metallica poster hanging above. His sheets and comforter were a mess and it looked like he hadn’t made his bed in days or weeks, even. On the floor were a scattering of magazines, dirty clothes, and other random junk. It was nothing like my own bedroom. It was dirty and boyish where mine was orderly and girlish. It sort of smelled weird, too. But what instantly got my attention was his desk, to my right, where his computer sat. On the computer monitor I saw an image of me, frozen with desire as my dad’s gentlest dog pressed his snout between my splayed thighs.

“Oh no, oh no,” I said. I began to sob again.

“Who should I send it to first?” Jason said as I whimpered just across the threshold to his room. He was sitting at his desk. “Maybe my friends. They’d get a kick out of this. They all say you’re hot but I bet they’d rather have pictures of you naked. This might sort of disgust them. I mean, damn, Becky, a dog? A few of them might like that but … nah, I bet sending it to Dad would be best. They have Internet access up there at the lake, you know, and I he brought his laptop…”

My legs gave out. I lost all the air in my lungs. There were a million things I wanted to say, a million things I wanted to beg, but I was just too horrified to speak. All I could do was cry.

He really would do it, I realized. In fact, I think I’d known it all along but had denied it to myself until that moment. He was supposed to be my brother but Jason had always enjoyed getting me into trouble just for the sake of it. He’d always loved teasing me and being mean to me, knowing that if I fought back in any significant way our dad would take his side. He had always been an asshole to me for reasons I’d never understood. Now he would, I was positive, make good on his threat to send the obscene picture of me and Marshall out to the world.

“What?” Jason said. He was next to me now, and speaking in a gentle but sneering voice. “Would you rather I keep this a secret?”

That got my attention. I flipped my head up, sending my hair flying over my back. He was on one knee and gently touching my chin. After a moment I managed to control my crying. I choked, “Please…”

He grinned. “Come over here,” he said. “I want you to see my favorite.”

My tall, 17-year-old brother helped me stand. He had to help me walk over to his desk. Without protest I allowed him to drop me into his lap when we got to his chair. “Look, this is the best one,” he whispered in my ear.

The image he was talking about was another one of me being eaten out by Marshall inside the kennel. This one was less blurry and the angle revealed a bit more of the action. He zoomed in a little to make his point very clear. After the zoom all that showed was my mouth wide, my eyes shut tight. My tiny hands gripping Marshall behind his floppy ears. My red shirt, its turtleneck hiding my throat. And my legs naked and mostly wrapped around the giant canine’s body. It was clear, in the zoomed-in image, that I was being eaten out by a dog. And that I liked it.

“Get rid of it,” I managed to sob. “Please!”

He took his time to do so but eventually Jason closed the image.

His arms went around my slender waist. He waited as I continued to cry, but I stopped once I felt his erection against my ass. He was wearing jeans and I was in my over-alls but I didn’t have on any underwear. It was definitely a hard-on. His hard-on. My eyes widened and my heart simultaneously leaped and groaned when I realized there was a possible way to keep him from sending out the images.

“You’re my little sister,” he whispered in my ear. “I don’t want to bust you with Dad. But what can I do?”

I gulped. He was sort of grinding his pelvis against me. I said, “Wh–what do you want?”

His hands left my waist and went instantly up to my breasts. Involuntarily I leaned back into him. As conditioned as I was to being submissive I still couldn’t believe how instinctively I gave into him. I never tried to stop him. I didn’t even whimper. As horrible as it was to be groped by my own brother, it was also arousing, too. That made the already existing tears in my eyes burn as I shut them tight in shame.

There was also the fact that doing what he wanted me to do might keep him from sending out the incriminating pictures. When his groping got really rough and minutes passed in silence I found myself whimpering again when he slid his hands under the overalls. He was still touching me through my red shirt but even so, his touch was more urgent now. I wasn’t wearing a bra. I felt everything my brother did and my whimpering only stopped when I feared it would start to sound like something else.

He was my brother. My older brother. I was just a girl, a horny and submissive girl. I was weak, he was strong. I was horny and he was satisfying those urges. Dark and carnal urges. Urges that Lee could never satisfy fully, I realized. The outline of Jason’s hard cock was throbbing underneath my tight little ass and I felt my pussy tingle and it felt sublime. For a moment I lost myself in everything.

He hissed, “I think we can make an arrangement, li’l sister.” He pinched my nipples and I gasped involuntarily.

As soon as I finished gasping, though, a flash of Scripture jumped into my brain. I’d read it recently, in the Book of Sins Daniel had given to me. It was Leviticus 18:6 and read, “No one is to approach any close relative to have sexual relations. I am the Lord.” The realization made me feel awful, and used, and evil, and violated. Yes, the arousal was definitely still there. And yes, I wanted desperately to stop Jason from sending out those photos. But what he wanted, clearly, was incest. It was worse than bestiality as far as I could tell. I mean, God gave man domain over animals, but He specifically forbade the act of incest. It was a terrible, awful sin. There was no way to rationalize that kind of crime in His eyes. Absolutely no way.

He continued to grope me through my shirt and I was on auto-pilot, grinding myself down on his erection now even as I thought these things. I was still really worked up from my interrupted session with Marshall and getting hornier by the second. Knowing how sinful and terrible it would be to do something with my brother made it that much hotter in my warped 13-year-old brain. But then I remembered the Bible again, I remembered those fleeting thoughts of wanting to be pure, I remembered my fake confession to Father DeGrazia about this very brother the past Sunday, I remembered the images in my fantasy the night before of my flesh and blood, my fathers and brothers, jerking off with my underwear. That last thought made my eyes snap open.

I jumped up from Jason’s lap. The action was so sudden he had no chance to respond. My face was red and teary-eyed but I spun around and pointed an accusatory finger at him. Without thinking I said, “It was you! You … you … you were the one!”

 

“Huh?” he asked. The hard-on in his jeans was as obvious as the confusion on his face.

“You jerked off with my panties! You’re the one whose been stealing them from my room!” I said. I wiped my nose and took a few protective steps away from him before I continued, “You’ve … you’ve been masturbating into my underwear, you pervert!”

He looked shocked at first. Then he did the last thing I expected: he laughed.

His laughter was so long and loud I started to doubt what I had felt was a certainty a moment before. I crossed my arms protectively across my chest, even though I was clothed, and chewed on my lower lip. Unconsciously I squeezed my thighs together and when I realized I was doing so I stopped, feeling ashamed. I stared down at my naked and muddy toes and waited for him to stop laughing.

He took so long I was close to just leaving before he said, “Wait, wait! Someone’s been jerkin’ it into your panties? You sure?” He started laughing again, but not as long this time. When I didn’t reply he blew out a deep breath, smiled, and said, “Sis, I don’t have the slightest clue who’d be doing that shit. I doubt anyone is. But you are one paranoid fucking slut, aren’t you?”

“Shuddup!” I yelled, angry now and a bit embarrassed for telling him about the panties. It definitely wasn’t him, I realized, and that made me feel stupid. But I knew Jason well enough to know when he was lying. He wasn’t.

“Look, look,” he said, holding up his hands in a calm-down gesture. “Maybe someone is. My money’d be on Ron. He’s a good kid but I know for a fact he ain’t touched real pussy yet, so maybe he just got too desperate and wanted to … I don’t know … get close to a real one?”

His laughter returned and I got angry. “Ron wouldn’t do that!”

“He wouldn’t?” Jason said, standing from his chair. He took a step toward me and I flinched. All humor was gone from his voice as he said, “Think about it. You know Tyler’s been getting laid since he was your age. I bagged my first bitch around that age, too. You think either of us would need to stoop so low as to jerk off into our own sister’s panties?”

I groaned inwardly. He was right. But then a thought occurred to me. Feeling courage rising inside me I stared unflinchingly into his eyes and said, “But you just ‘stooped so low’ as to grope your own sister’s tits! That’s even worse!”

He shrugged. “Not the way I see it. Tits are tits, sis. And it didn’t seem to me like you weren’t enjoying it either.”

He took a step forward and I took a step back. I felt utterly weak and vulnerable, like he would lash out at me at any moment, but he took just the one step. I whispered, “Fine. But … I wasn’t enjoying it, you know. I was just … scared. You’re my brother, Jason, even if I did like it I…”

“Shut up a minute,” he said, his voice channeling our father’s authority. I froze. “You know you’re way too quiet most of the time except when you really need to be. Like right now. Or the other night when you told that bullshit story to Dad about falling while rollerblading.”

“Wh-what?” I said.

“Give me a fucking break,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Tyler and I at least knew you were full of shit, rambling on like you were. Dad’s too fucking blind to see it and maybe Ron’s too young but don’t think you can fool everybody. You’ve been acting weird lately and the rollerblading thing is the least of it. Now I think I know why.”

“You … you do?” I whispered. He was real close to me now but I was no longer backing away. Guilt was washing over me, and maybe a little relief, too. Could it be that Jason knew about everything I’d been up to? It would be awful, of course, but in a way it would be a huge weight off my shoulders to have one or maybe two of my brothers aware of what I was really doing. What I’d been going through. Maybe, wasn’t there just a chance, that they could help me? That even Jason, asshole though he was, could offer me advice? I was his little sister, after all.

He touched my chin and lifted it until my eyes met his. It seemed as though he had read my mind when he said, “You’ve been really horny lately and you don’t know what to do about it. You need help. I understand. Shit, sis, I went through the same thing when I was your age. I can help you. If you want.”

I tried to blink away more tears but I had an endless supply. For the briefest of moments I thought I’d been all wrong about him. For the briefest of moments I dared to believe that Jason, my most hated brother, actually loved me and wanted to take care of me. For the briefest of moments hope filled me from head to toe, hope that Jason was about to make some sort of suggestion or offer some piece of advice for how to handle one’s horniness in an appropriate way. I managed to choke out, “Y-yes, please … I need help!”

He smiled. “Then go take a shower. While you do, take real good care of that pussy of yours. Get rid of all that dog spit. Come back here, after, and I’ll help you really good.”

He let go of my chin and without a thought I turned and walked toward the door. My mind was numb but my feet moved on their own. I was almost to the hallway when he said, “Don’t bother wearing anything when you come back, sis. Next time I see you you’d best be naked.”

I froze at his words. My mind cleared up somewhat. I turned in place at the doorway, my heart filling now with suspicion and dread. I said, “Uhm … what does being naked have to do with anything? I mean … how are you going to help me, Jason?”

He grinned and there was an evil in his eyes I’d seen before but not from him. He said, “I’m going to make it so you never need a fucking dog again to get off. I’m going to show you how a man’s tongue is so much more skilled.”

Once again, near the very same place as before, I collapsed to my knees and fell to my side near his open door. I started to cry as the ramifications of his words rattled about inside my confused young head. He was beside me in an instant, though, and said, “Don’t be such a baby! I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m just gonna teach you why doin’ it with dogs is sick and why doin’ it with men is awesome…”

“You’re my brother!” I sobbed. To my surprise he was holding me and petting my hair as I blubbered. “The Bible, Jason, incest is sin! It’s wrong! We can’t do it, we can’t, please don’t make me, please… !”

“Shh, calm down, sis, calm down,” he whispered. “It’s just oral. That’s not incest. It’s not like we’d be fucking. You know what oral is, right? What you were doing with the dog?”

He was talking to me like I was a baby and I didn’t mind. I sniffed and said, “Yes, I … of course, but … you’re not going to fuck me?”

He laughed. “You’re my sister!” he said. “Fuck no I’m not gonna fuck you. I’m just going to punish you a little, then show you heaven. But only with my tongue.”

I didn’t like the sound of the word “punishment” very much but I pushed that away. The news that I wouldn’t be having actual full-on sex with my older brother was too good to believe. I said, “Really? Just … just that?”

“Becky!” he said in disbelief. I wasn’t sure but it almost sounded fake. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, though, when he continued, “I just want to take care of you. Teach you a few things. Show you why having a dog do it to you is stupid. Once you see how good real oral is you’ll never go back to no fucking dog, I promise.”

I sniffed. I’d been eaten out by Daniel before, of course, but I didn’t want him to know that. In a voice as soft as cashmere I said, “But … but you want me to come back naked?”

“Can’t do it clothed,” he shrugged. “Plus, like I said, tits are tits. I’d really like to see yours. I sort of feel like I deserve to since I’m giving you a huge break, not telling on you and all. And for helping you.”

I considered that. “And the pictures?”

“I’ll punish you for that on Dad’s behalf. He doesn’t ever have to find out about that shit,” he said. He actually sounded sincere and reassuring. At least I thought he did. He reached a hand down to me after standing up and helped me do the same. “Deal?”

There was no other option. “Okay,” I whispered.

“Good,” he said.

I walked out of his room after that and went straight to the bathroom.

 

The shower felt quick and it wasn’t until the water turned cold that I realized I’d been washing and scrubbing myself all over for far too long. Without a thought in my confused little head I’d washed and re-washed every inch of my skin, going back to my worked up pussy many times, too many times. Jason had told me to pay attention there but his order had almost made me cum. I resisted each time, though. Each impending orgasm made me feel dirty about what I was about to do with my older brother so I just pushed away my carnal urges and moved to another area of my young body.

Only when the cold water rained down upon my hair did I realize I still hadn’t shampooed and conditioned. I did that under frigid streams of water. Even so it felt good, rejuvenating in a way. The cold water made my nipples hard and my mind clear. It washed away the tears from my reddened eyes and I even opened my mouth to drink some of it when I heard pounding on the bathroom door.

“Almost done!” I yelled.

I dried quickly. I had to get back to Jason’s room soon for punishment and … help. Help meant he would eat me out. My own brother. The thought made me shudder even more than the cold water had but I didn’t care. I was desperate in so many ways at that point. Desperate to get off. Desperate to be saved. Desperate that Jason could do both.

He was just going to eat me out. No sex, he had promised. That wasn’t so bad, I told myself. The Bible never talked about oral sex in any real or certain way. The whole incest thing, that was referring to the literal definition of sex: penetration. He wasn’t going to enter me. He would just eat me out. He would show me that a man could do it better than a dog. I choked back a sob when I realized, with shame, that my now dried pussy was already getting wet again with my own juices.

There was banging on the door again as I did my best to dry my hair. “Tick tock, Becky!” Jason yelled from beyond.

“Just a minute!”

My hair was still really damp but I knew I was officially out of time. I took my towel, wrapped it around my head, and took a deep breath. I looked at my reflection: I looked small, and pink, and cute. Even my little frown looked cute on my face. There was no time left to stare so I left the bathroom, walked down the hall, and into Jason’s bedroom.

“Took long en–,” he started to say when I entered. He froze in mid-sentence and whistled when he saw my naked body. He whistled. “Damn, Becky, you look … well, you look damn hot. But lose the towel.”

“My hair’s still drying,” I whispered. I was trembling all over and felt both exhilarated and terrified that I was naked in front of my brother. For some reason, the towel in my hair felt like a little protection. I didn’t want to lose it.

“I don’t care.”

I sighed and looked up. He was staring at me with a dangerous look of lust in his eyes. I thought about protesting further but didn’t. Without another word I reached up and unwrapped the towel from around my head. I dropped it to the floor as my damp blonde hair fell around my cute 13-year-old face. I stared down my body, past my tits with their pointy little nipples, and at my now cute looking toes. I felt myself to begin to blush.

Without the hair towel I felt totally naked in front of Jason, my 17-year-old brother. And I couldn’t quite understand how that made me feel.

“You’re damned hot,” he said. He was sitting on his bed and stating fact in a blunt voice. “Turn around for me.”

I did. When I was looking at him again he was smiling. He said. “Okay, sis, first we do the punishment. How do you think Dad would punish you, if I showed him those pictures of you and Marshall?”

My whole body went red. “He’d … I … please!” I said. I couldn’t imagine what my dad would do to me. It would be awful, though, of that I was sure. The mere mention of him almost sent me into a panic attack.

“Jesus, don’t start crying again,” he said in a mean tone of voice. He let me calm down a little bit. “He’d spank you at least, right? Right?”

I was still trying to calm my breathing and prevent myself from freaking out. I managed to nod, though, at his question. I noticed that he seemed to enjoy my heaving chest and that gave me a different kind of thrill. Being a sex object to my brother … hadn’t I masturbated while fantasizing about that just the day before?

“Thought so,” he said. “So I’ll give you a spanking. Come over here.”

Just a spanking, I thought. That was a punishment I was more than used to. As embarrassing as it was to see the look in his eyes as he soaked in my naked body, the body that was his own little sister’s, I couldn’t help but feel relieved. After all the things Daniel had put me through a spanking would be nothing. I’d been getting those my whole life. I walked toward him, bashfully but with purpose, and got ready to lean over his waist.

“Whoa, wait, sis,” he said. “Not like that. Is that how Dad spanks you? Over his lap?”

I nodded, feeling dumb. “Y–yeah…”

“Nah, that’s lame. Get up here, on the bed. Like a dog. Like a little bitch. Sort of fits for the crime, right?” He chuckled.

I continued to blush but I followed his commands. When he told me to keep my knees together as I knelt forward on my elbows I did. When he stood up and started to play with my dangling titties, I bit my tongue. I was well beyond wondering if he would fondle me some more. I just wanted to get this over with. It was taking all my energy not to cry and even more of my spent reserves to keep from giving in to my horniness. I tried thinking of scripture while he ran his hands over my body, reciting prayers and Psalms in my head as he lightly touched my breasts, my ass, my thighs.

The touching went on for several minutes and I could feel myself getting wet. I used every last ounce of willpower I had to keep from giving in to my brother’s light caress but it was a losing battle. When the spanking started I was almost glad, even though it came so suddenly that the pain made me cry out more in surprise than in pain.

“Aww, sweet little sister doesn’t like that?” he whispered after the first blow had landed. I didn’t dare to respond. It was hard enough keeping my true feelings under control. “You know, I’ve been wanting to do this to you for years, Becky. I always thought Dad was way too lenient with you. Just a few spanks now and again, that’s all his precious little girl ever gets. Me and Tyler, especially, got a whole lot worse growing up, bitch.”

His second blow really was painful, but his words were surprising. There was a bitterness in his tone of voice, a sound of hatred mixed with jealousy, that explained a lot. The reaons my brothers, Tyler and Jason most of all, always seemed to resent me. Dad had never hit me in the face, after all, or beat my body black-and-blue with a belt. For some reason it had never occurred to me that they might find that unfair, and hate me for it. Spankings weren’t nearly so bad in comparison, after all.

Jason sure as hell was trying to make sure this one was, though. His next few blows were so violent tears streamed down my cheaks. At the other then, though, I was also getting wet. Once again pain was turning me on. I was on the verge of losing control over myself entirely.

“Holy shit, sis, don’t tell me you shave!” he laughed. He’d paused the spanking to move his position so that he was kneeling behind me, fully clothed, and gripping one of my reddened cheeks. He was pulling my ass cheeks apart and apparently had noticed for the first time I was bald between my legs. “Don’t tell my you haven’t grown any pubes yet?”

“I … trim,” I managed to croak. He responded by slapping my ass several more times. I began to cry harder. He was being merciless.

He beat the hell out of my ass for a few more seconds after that. Then he hissed into my ear, “You ever give a blowjob, sis-slut?”

I cried from both the pain and his vulgarity. Without thinking about it I lied and said, “N–no!”

He slapped me again, hard, then said, “Too bad.”

After that I just blubbered and moaned and struggled not to enjoy the beating he gave my poor young butt. There was a part of me that wanted this punishment and was getting off on it but I resisted until the end. The pain was horrible but I’d gone through worse; the pleasure was dirty and intense but I’d been through better. So I told myself, at least. The fact is, having my brother dole out this punishment was more intoxicating and horrible and confusing than anything I had ever endured. He was my older brother, and he was hurting me, and humiliating me, and giving me such terribly perverse pleasure all at the same time.

Eventually I lost the power to stay on all fours. I bit into his comforter rather than cry out anymore for fear that the cries would betray my arousal. He got off the bed shortly after that and just stood at the side of it, staring at me. When he didn’t speak or resume the beating I finally collapsed onto my stomach all the way and turned my head toward the wall, away from him. He must have watched me sob for nearly five minutes before I lost the energy to continue. After I was quiet for about a minute I felt his hand on my sore ass and I sighed.

“Part of you liked that, didn’t you?” he whispered as he rubbed my ass. “You soaked my sheets with your pussy juice.”

“No,” I lied.

“Whatever. Roll over so I can give you your reward.”

I didn’t hesitate.

My eyes were shut and I was breathing deep. When he said, “Spread ’em,” I once again complied without a word. After all, I was exhausted and in pain but more than that I was horny. Now would come the promised oral sex and I had no doubt I would get off right away. I couldn’t wait for a tongue to be in between my legs. Who cared if the tongue belonged to one of my older brothers? The way Jason had made it sound, he was an expert. At that moment I really needed an expert tongue down there. I needed to get off, to enjoy an orgasm to mask the pain I’d just gone through.

He was on top of me before I realized he was naked. He must have undressed while I’d been sobbing. At first I didn’t mind, figuring he’d eventually wanted to disrobe, too. He’d asked me about blowjobs. Maybe he wanted me to give him one. I didn’t care. I just wanted to get off. A good orgasm would clear up my head. It would make me feel good. I was desperate for either feeling at that point.

But he was on top of me, I realized, and that didn’t make sense. He was supposed to eat me out. One of his hands was pressing down into my right breast, flattening the fat little boob against my small body, and I could feel his long naked legs between my own spread ones. The pressure he was putting on my tit was great and when I finally opened my eyes I saw a smile on his face. I started to put things together but it was too late.

“Jason, what … what?” I gasped. I felt the tip of his dick probing around at the entrance to my cunt. “Y-you said … oral! You promised!”

“I know,” he sighed. “But I’m not walking away with nothing, and you said you don’t know shit about giving a good blowjob, so I’ll take this instead…”

My eyes widened in fear. Scripture flashed through my head. I saw images of Hell as described to me since I was in Kindergarten. “Jason! It’s … no, NO! PLEASE! INCEST IS SINNNNNNNNN!”

I cried out the last word because that’s when his cock pressed relentlessly forward into my wet 13-year-old pussy.

At first it felt so good that I could only gasp soundlessly and let my young body tense up. My brother had a good sized dick and it sliced into me like Moses through the Red Sea. I shuddered as a small but intense orgasm took me before he’d even gotten all the way in. That passed quickly, though, and I started to groan and struggle against him once the tiny piece of pleasure was dwarfed by the reality of what was happening.

I was being raped by my own brother. A loud, panicked shriek escaped my lips and I began to fight him with all the strength I had left.

“You like it, sis,” he hised into my ear. Now that he was all the way inside me he was using his hands to grasp my wrists, holding them still over my head as I struggled to resist him. “I can tell … ungh, I can tell you, you do…”

I whimpered and fought and kicked my legs but I was just a small child compared to him. He rutted his cock in and out of me quickly at first, seeming to enjoy the way every time he penetrated me I would cry all the louder. He only slowed down when something incredible happened.

First, I stopped resisting. There was no way I could stop him but that wasn’t the only reason I gave up. The real reason was because my body was responding to his fucking like it never had before. A sort of warmth was spreading across me, an enjoyable and indescribable pleasure flowing from my pussy to my tits, from my mouth to the tips of my toes. I was getting fucked by my brother, my own flesh and blood, an insanely evil and deplorable act. But rather than continue screaming for him to stop, I added one word.

“Don’t!” I cried.

He slowed down his fucking. “Don’t … what, sis? What?”

I breathed heavily and stared up at him, a look of sheer carnality in my eyes. “Stop…”

“Don’t stop?” he asked, slamming his cock back inside my body and making me groan with pleasure.

“Don’t … stop… ,” I said again.

That became my mantra for the next ten or so minutes. “Don’t … stop,” I whimpered. “Don’t stop!”

He didn’t. I kept my eyes locked on his and he had an urgent, nasty little smile on his face while he slowly pounded his cock in and out of my twat. Each time he crashed his dick into me I moaned and said the words again and I never took my eyes off his unless he was looking away. Knowing that I was completely his he began to use his hands to squeeze my tits and that only added to the pleasure I was experiencing. I came hard once, twice, three times as he rutted me like that. Never had the missionary position been so nasty and erotic and pleasurable and my dirty teenage mind was trying to be a sponge, trying to soak in every last part of this experience. I draped my hands around his neck and pulled him to me, wanting to kiss him, but he crushed his chest against my face instead. Rather than feeling rejected I loved it, and I licked his naked skin, tasting his sweat and shuddering as my brother continued to fuck me with slow, deliberate thrusts.

It was amazing.

“I’m … fuck, fuck, Becky, you’re too fucking tight … I’m gonna…” he said after nearly twenty minutes had passed.

I was ready for it and wanting it and I pulled his neck down, harder, but he resisted. Instead he arched his back, breaking my embrace, and withdrew his cock from my hungry pussy.

“No! Jason, don’t stop, don’t…” I begged.

“UNGH!” he groaned as his cum spurt out of his cock, thick globs of white goo that coated my belly.

I was disappointed he hadn’t cum inside me. When I realized that I felt a little foolish, but more than that I was still ramped up, still horny and desperate for more. Confusion settled over my mind, though, when he said, “Get … get out…”

“What?” I breathed. I was still underneath him, his warm cum forming a little pool around my tiny belly button.

“Get out of here… ,” he said, rolling off of me, finally. He sat on the edge of his bed, catching his breath, and glared at me. “Get the fuck out! I need to think. Get out!”

Feeling strangely satisfied and numb, I did as I was told.

 

When I got to my room I stood, naked, in front of my mirror.

My hair was a complete mess. My lithe young body was sweaty. Jason’s cum was dripping down my belly, the long thick gobs of my brother’s sperm inching down toward my pelvis. I stared into my own eyes and felt a small smile form on my lips. For some reason I felt good. Great, in fact. I had no idea why but I didn’t care enough to wonder. The moment is what I wanted to enjoy, so I did.

I started to rub the cum into my skin and I shuddered at the feeling. Soon I was using both hands to do it, rubbing it deep into the soft skin of my tummy, my breasts, and then reaching around to do the same with my butt. I turned and stared at it and sighed at the sight. It was bright red, shiny now from the sperm-moisturizer, and would definitely end up black and blue. Even that thought didn’t bring me down. Instead my nipples got hard and I started to move my hands around my hips, wanting to touch myself, wanting to cum again. I only stopped because I suddenly remembered my Book of Sins.

My hand trembled as I updated it. Sitting on my bed, I added an entry under the “Incest” page, writing in Jason’s name and the date. I stared at that for a moment and wondered why it turned me on so much. On impulse I then flipped the pages to “Bestiality” and updated it as best I could recall. I’d never written in the category before because I’d never admitted to Daniel that I’d done it. It felt good, though. When I flipped the pages again to “Interracial” I frowned at the out-of-context Bible quote, but dutifully filled in my experiences with the Four-Oh Crew just the same. When I was done I felt a pleasant flutter in my tummy. My Book of Sins was now 100% up to date. I started to leaf through the pages and I wondered if I might be the most sinful girl in the entire world. The thought gave me mixed emotions but I pushed away all negativity and embraced the depraved horniness I also felt.

“What are you doing?”

I hadn’t noticed Jason enter the room. I stared at him for a long moment. I was sitting on my bed, naked, my golden-covered book in my hands. I closed it, tilted my head to one side, and said, “Just reading my prayers.”

He shrugged. “Whatever,” he said. “Look, Becky, there’s a few things I need to make clear.”

He started to pace back and forth. He had dressed in a white t-shirt and boxers, nothing else, and I had to struggle not to smile at his obvious nervousness. I wondered if he’d been nervous earlier and I just hadn’t noticed, freaked out as I was. Maybe he had been. Whatever the case, it was nice to see him acting confused and anxious now.

“First of all, you’re not going to tell anyone about what just happened,” he said. His voice was hard, commanding, but forced. “No one. Not Dad, not Ron or Tyler, not your friends, not the fucking nuns at your school. You hear me? No one!”

I nodded. “I know,” I said.

He paused at my words. “Good. Good,” he finally said. Gaining confidence he continued, “And we’re going to do it again, too. In secret. Got that? I’m going to fuck you whenever I want, any night I want. So, like, sleep naked from now on. Yeah, sleep naked. If you wake up with a cock in your pussy you know you’ll enjoy it so don’t try to stop me. And don’t try to deny you won’t like it. Don’t try and act like you didn’t like what we just did.”

“I won’t,” I said, matter-of-fact.

Again he paused. My cool, casual demeanor seemed to be throwing him off. “Good,” he said slowly. “Because, you know, it’s just sex. You liked it, and I liked it, and who cares if you’re my kid sister, right?”

“Right,” I said with a slight smile.

He nodded. “Another thing, you need to get on the pill. Don’t worry about getting pregnant this time ’cause you can’t the first time. Uh, that was your first time, right?”

I nodded. Might as well keep up the lie, I figured, so I didn’t tell him I was already on the pill.

He grinned at that. “Nice. Too bad your cherry was gone. Did you take it yourself?” After I nodded he said, “Good, I’d hate to think one of the fucking dogs licked it away. Oh, that reminds me, no more messing around with them, okay? That’s seriously sick, Becky.”

I wanted to ask him why incest wasn’t any sicker, but I just nodded instead.

“The last thing is this. I’m not going out like I’d planned to this weekend anymore. Instead you and me are going to hang out and fuck whenever I feel like it. I might even spank you some more, you seemed to dig that and lord knows you deserve some more punishment,” he said. “I mean, Jesus, Becky! I’ve never even heard of anyone as slutty as you! I practically raped you and you got off more than any girl I’ve ever been with, so…”

“No,” I said.

He looked confused. “No, what? That I raped you?”

“No,” I continued, “Not that. But you did rape me and even though I ended up enjoying it, Jason, you did rape me. I don’t care about that, though. What I was saying no to was the whole thing about me staying with you this weekend. I’m not doing that. I’m hanging out with a friend today and I’m going to stay out as late as I want and you’re going to lie to Dad for me when he asks what time I got home.”

He looked stunned for a moment, then he laughed. “Bullshit!” he said. “If I say you’re going stay here, you’re going to fucking stay here! Or…”

“Or what?” I snapped. I stood up from my bed and marched toward him. Thrusting an index finger in his face I said, “Tell Dad? Tell him what? That you wanted me to stay here as your little sex slave for the weekend but I went out instead?”

His nervousness from earlier was gone and he was getting angry. I was a whole lot angrier though and I went on before he could say anything, “Or are you going to threaten me with those pictures again? Is that it? Because let me tell you something. Dad won’t give two shits about those pics if you force me to call the cops and report you for what you just did to me. Heck, I’ll even add a few lies to the truth. The first lie will be that you forced me to do that with Marshall, that you dragged me to kennel and put the dog between my legs. Who do you think the cops will believe? Who Dad’ll believe?”

“He’s never taken your side when we argue, you stupid bitch!” he yelled.

I laughed. “Yeah, that’s true! But when the police examine me and find out I was raped, and when they find your semen inside me and arrest you, do you think the situation will be anything like one of our ‘whose turn is it to watch TV’ arguments? Huh?”

He was starting to look nervous again. I saw doubt and, yes, fear in his eyes. I didn’t know where all my new found strength and confidence was coming from, but I was on a roll and didn’t stop. I said, “They’ll arrest you, Jason. You’re 17 and they’re try you as an adult for raping your little sister! Those pictures of me and Marshall will be used in court against you, not against me! I mean, what kind of brother takes pictures of his sister in a situation like that? I’ll tell them you made me do it and they’ll believe me. You know they will.”

He swallowed hard and finally broke eye-contact with me. “Fine, fine. You can go out. But the rest of what I said stands.”

He was trying to take back the upper hand and I let him. I couldn’t help it. I said, “Yes, of course.”

“Even about the sex?” he said.

I swallowed. “Yes,” I nodded. It felt good to cave in even though just seconds earlier I’d been in his face and demanding. It was too strange and weird for me to be the one in charge, the one making the demands. I wasn’t used to it and even though I was proud that I had, it was also strangely comfortable to back off and let him be in charge once more. Even so I added, “But I won’t be your slave this weekend, Jason, I won’t. I won’t ever be your slave. If you want to fuck me and I’m available, sure. But you can’t just order me around.”

He laughed. “Sure I can,” he said.

I was surprised by the sudden renewal of his confidence. “What?” I asked.

He reached out and boldly groped my tits. I made no move to resist him. He said, “I can do it because you like it. And I can threaten not to fuck you anymore if you don’t behave for me.”

“No,” I breathed. My body was beginning to tremble at my brother’s touch. Both his hands were carefully massaging either of my breasts and I unconsciously pressed them into him.

“Yes,” he whispered back. “Yesterday I thought you were just my goody-two-shoes little sister, but now I know the truth.”

“Wh … what’s the … truth?” I whispered. He was pushing me back, gently, and I was letting him. After a few short backwards steps he pushed me onto my bed. He kept one hand on one of my tits, squeezing it, massaging it, as he pulled his boxers off with the other.

“When you’re not around Dad always tells us that there are two type of women in the world: women made for marrying, like Mom, and women meant for fucking. He says the fucking kind are born sluts and you can just do what you want with them and not feel bad after ’cause they don’t deserve anything but cock. He says Mom was one of the rarer kind, the marrying kind, the good kind. He always says you’re like her, and I always thought he was right, but he wasn’t. No, Becky, you’re just a slut.”

“No,” I whispered, but one of his hands was between my legs and he was pressing his fingers into me and I moaned with pleasure. He continued to do that, massaging my right tit and my pussy at the same time, and I squirmed with desire and stared wide eyed at the ceiling. Then, abruptly, he stopped.

“Fine, then,” he said, getting up off the bed.

“Wh … what?” I asked, confused and breathless. He was pulling his boxers on and heading back to the door.

He stopped and turned back to me. “You said ‘no’, Becky. If you’re not a slut then it wouldn’t be right for me to mess with you.” He had an arrogant little smile on his face.

“No, please,” I said, not thinking. “I … I am.”

“You’re what?” he said.

Swallowing hard I said, “I’m a slut, Jason. Please!”

He smiled in triumph. He’d beaten me by proving his point: he could always just threaten to deny me sex to get me to do what he wanted. I felt a cold thrill of shame course through my body at the realization. Once again I felt dirty and ashamed but, as always, I was too horny to do anything about it. My confidence from earlier was completely gone and I knew that if he demanded me to stay the weekend with him as his slave again, I’d do it. He’d won.

“Get over here,” he said.

Without a word I slipped off my bed and walked to him. He told me to get on my knees and I did and when he told me to take off his boxers I did that as well. He said, “I’m going to teach you how to give a blowjob, little sister, since you’re just a little slut. You are, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said. It was all I could do not to touch his cock: it was right in front of me and I felt a strange sense of pride that my brother was so well endowed.

“Say it,” he said, “tell me you’re a little slut and then take my cock into your mouth.”

“I’m just a little slut, Jason,” I whispered. Without pausing I then gently gripped his dick in one hand and put it in my mouth.

I did my best to pretend that I didn’t know what I was doing. I tried to remember the first time I’d sucked off Daniel, tried to remember how awkward and unskilled I was. It worked at first, forcing Jason to tell me to use my tongue more, to keep my mouth wide, to take it in deeper. Eventually, though, my horniness overtook me when I saw my reflection in my dressing mirror across the room: me, on my knees, my older brother’s cock in my mouth. I lost control and completely went to town on his dick, then, deep-throating it and choking on it until my face turned purple. I bobbed my head back and forth, then slowed down and used just my tongue around the head of his shaft. I kept my mouth wet and juicy for him and dragged my lips across his dick, loving his taste, my big brother’s taste.

“You’re … a fucking … natural,” he said several times. He kept his hands on his hips, never touching my head except to hold back my hair. He, too, was enjoying the reflection in the mirror and seemed to know that I was watching, too.

After about ten minutes of dick sucking he’d had enough. “Get on the bed, all fours,” he ordered me.

I was amazed at his endurance and once again felt proud that my brother was such a good fuck. Giving orders came natural to him and even after using all my blowjob tricks he was still rock hard and hadn’t cum. I crawled onto my bed, winced at the pain in my butt, and got ready for another fucking.

“This is called doggy-style,” he said.

“OH!” I cried as his cock entered my hot, throbbing pussy from behind.

His hands came around my chest and cupped my hanging breasts as he rammed me, hard, over and over in desperate, brutal strokes. I came when he squeezed my tits so hard they felt like they would burst and he seemed to know it. “Have a good cum … sis … have a good cum?”

“Y-yes,” I moaned.

“Tell me … ugh, tell me you’re a good slut … tell me you like, ugh … fucking your brother!”

“I like fucking my brother!” I cried.

It continued like that for nearly half an hour and I never got tired of it. He told me to call him by name, to call myself a slut, to promise I’d do anything he wanted, and I obeyed him each time. He never slowed down in his fucking and I was amazed at how long he lasted. I’d always heard that teenage boys couldn’t last but apparently some could.

Near the end he stopped groping my tits and started slapping my ass. The painful cries I made were mixed in with delirious pleasure and he laughed at that. “My little sister, ugh, fuck! Such a little slut!” he said before telling me to beg him for more.

“Slap me … harder, Jason!” I sobbed. “P-punish me, fuck, oohhhh!”

He laughed and laughed and fucked me harder and harder, all the while slapping my small round butt that had already received such a punishment earlier. When he finally came he did so inside me this time and the feeling of his warm seed squirting up into my womb made me cry out with pleasure.

It got so quiet after that that all I could hear was the hammering of my heart and a soft, squishy sound as Jason pulled out of me. He got off the bed and I fell to my side, staring at him as he pulled his boxers back on.

“Now you know your place, sis,” he declared. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Go hang out with your fucking friend. Just remember the rules or you’ll never get a fucking like that ever again. Got it?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He left me as I basked in the glorious shame and pleasure of post-orgasmic bliss. After enjoying it for a while I sat up, reached to my night stand, and grabbed my Book of Sins.

I really wanted to keep it up to date.

 

CHAPTER 9

 

Lee didn’t end up picking me up until well after four in the afternoon.

After Jason fucked me I relaxed for a while before dressing back in my overalls and turtleneck shirt since I knew that I had to finish my chores. Part of me wanted to try and regain the brief spurt of confidence I’d felt after Jason had fucked me the first time and demand he do my chores for me. That feeling, of being in charge, was completely out of my system now, though, and couldn’t be regained. Those brief few minutes had been fun but feeling dominated by him was even more enjoyable. And miserable, and helpless, and sad. But most of all it felt normal, like an old blanket that probably needed to be replaced but was so familiar I just couldn’t bare to let it go.

When I got downstairs he was playing a video-game. I crept by him without a word but glanced over to see him giving me a smug look as he eyed me in my work-clothes again. I shuddered and went outside, determined to work hard and fast and not think about him. I was going to see Lee as soon as I finished my chores. That’s all I wanted to think about. The problem was that as I shoveled dog shit into the wheelbarrow my ass cried in pain from the effort. Jason had really beaten my butt black-and-blue and it was a reminder of what my brother had done to me. I wondered how I was going to explain that to Lee.

Cleaning the kennel was the hardest chore I had to do, thankfully, and after getting the dogs back inside it and turning on the heat for them the rest of my work sort of flew by. I mowed the lawn, did the dishes, and vacuumed in a daze. I got so lost in my chores that I completely forgot that I was supposed to call Lee to arrange getting picked up. My mind was too preoccupied with getting my work done and mulling over what Jason was to me now: brother, master, or lover? It didn’t help that while I did my inside work he kept giving me that smug look whenever we crossed paths. Trying not to think about him made me think of little else so when I finally got to my phone I panicked when I saw that I’d missed three calls from Lee. I dialed him quickly, terrified that he might think I had blown him off.

“No problem, girl,” he said after I apologized. It was 2:30 in the afternoon and he answered on the second ring. “All good. When should I head over?”

Relieved beyond measure, I told him to meet me at the Silver Star Liquor store at four and he promised he’d be there. After that I showered again to get the work-stink off of me. When I finished I took a lot of time to get my hair right, which was sort of an overkill since I always wore my hair in the same simple style anyway. It took me awhile to get it just so, though, before I lamented over a real problem: what to wear.

I really wanted to dress sexy for Lee but part of me hesitated. Jason thought I was going over to a friend’s house and he might have some awkward questions for me if I wore the short black dress I’d been wanting to wear. I was also afraid that if I looked too sexy he might decide to fuck me again and then I’d miss Lee at the liquor store. I finally decided it was safer to just wear a pale yellow blouse and simple denim jeans that were a little loose on my thin, pubescent legs. I looked cute and pretty, I decided after adding a hair clip that held back the hair on my left side, something I only did when I wanted to look older. Lee would definitely like what he saw and Jason wouldn’t suspect that underneath my outfit I was wearing the sexist bra and panties I owned.

Before leaving I made sure to hide my Book of Sins in a safe place. I suspected that Jason might end up searching my room after I was gone. Even if, as I suspected of all my brothers, he’d done so before he’d definitely want to do a very thorough search now. I made sure to hide both the book and the other incriminating things I owned: a couple of dirty magazines, the old photo I’d taken of myself after I first had sex with the dogs, and a picture Daniel had given me of his penis a week or so earlier. I hid them in my closet underneath a section of the carpet that pulled up from the floor, in the corner, where I was positive no one would ever think to look.

Jason had one last thing to say to me before I walked out the door. “Hey, sis,” he called.

Nervous as hell, I walked over to him wearing my blue jacket, my purse over one shoulder. “Yes?” I asked meekly.

“Remember the rules,” he said without looking at me. “And be home by midnight.”

“Okay,” I said. When he didn’t anything else I finally escaped the house.

I got to the liquor store early and as I waited I couldn’t stop thinking about Jason. Why had the sex been so great? Sure, he lasted long and had a good sized cock, but it was more than just that. It was the fact he was my brother, I knew deep down. My flesh and blood, born to the same woman as me who had been impregnated by the same man. My biological brother and my biggest enemy in my house since as long as I could remember. Memories of him pulling on my ponytails when I was very little and tickling me merciless on my birthdays flooded my head. Those thoughts were so nasty and perverted that my depraved 13-year-old brain just loved it. I felt ashamed but also aroused. I found myself wondering how often he would end up fucking me, if he would fuck me that night, and if he’d be the only brother of mine I would ever have sex with. That last thought made me shudder. Images of Tyler and even Ron swam through my hormone-addled brain and it wasn’t until Lee pulled up in his gigantic boat of a car that I finally stopped thinking about all of that.

We talked casually during the ride into the city. Lee did most of the talking, telling me about some party that was going on that night and some semi-famous hip-hop artist who was supposed to be there. It sounded like a lot of fun and I agreed to go, but I told him I had to be home no later than midnight. If that bothered him it didn’t show. He just promised I’d be home in time and passed me a joint he’d lit up.

When we got to his house, which was only a few doors down and across the street from Ty’s, I was pretty stoned. Lee said we could watch movies or play video games while we waited for the party, but I planned on getting down to business as soon as possible. Being stoned made me horny and during the drive I’d stared blatantly at the outline of his massive cock pretty much the whole way.

I was surprised when we entered the small house and saw an attractive young black woman lounging on a sofa in front of a television set. She had fine, angular African features with skin as dark as Lee’s. For a moment I wondered if she was Lee’s wife or girlfriend but that notion was quickly dispelled when he said, “Hey, sis, meet Becky.”

Her pretty but tired looking eyes broke away from the TV and settled on me. She yawned after glancing at me from top to bottom and then said, “It ain’t no lie you’re a young one. It true Maurice pumped ya?”

I glanced over at Lee with a questioning look. He said, “Came inside you.”

“Oh!” I said, blushing. I nodded my head then studied my white sneakers with their pink laces.

Lee’s sister laughed in a friendly way. She said, “I hope you’re on the pill then, girl. Maurice is one fertile fucking nigga. Come on, have a seat. I just started ‘The Shining’. Ever see it?”

I hadn’t, seeing as I wasn’t allowed to watch R-rated movies. But I did take a seat on the couch with Lee’s sister, who formally introduced herself as Shyreen. She seemed friendly enough and as Lee went into the kitchen to get some beers she asked me what I did, why I’d been in the city the other night, and why I’d joined the gang. It was a lot to explain, especially while stoned, but I did my best and she took even the most shocking information in stride. When Lee returned he gave each of us a beer and I gulped at mine without preamble, my mouth dry and cotton-like and desperate for any kind of liquid.

“So, uhm, what do you do?” I asked Shyreen after a moment of silence.

Lee answered for her. “She smokes my weed and spends my money,” he said in his deep drawl of a voice. He was lighting up a water bong and after taking a hit I could see that he was smiling.

“Pretty much,” Shyreen said, stretching out her soft but attractive body. She was smiling, too.

The three of us spent the next hour and a half smoking pot, drinking some beer, and chit-chatting. Shyreen liked to talk and her soft, sexy voice was fun to listen to. She told me embarrassing stories about Lee that made me smile and explained how he’d been taking care of her since she was only twelve. She also explained how she was an inactive member of the gang and how Lee had given her loaded dice to roll for her initiation.

“When they came up snake eyes them niggas was pissed!” she laughed. “Half them assholes had been tryin’ to get with this since I was your age but were too afraid of Lee to try.”

I smiled warmly at Lee. I liked the idea of him being a protective older brother.

Just after six, with the sun setting outside and the movie having been fully ignored by all of us, Shyreen stood and said, “Guess ya’ll want time alone. I’s gonna go on over to Lendy’s for that party.”

“We’ll see you,” Lee told her. He had his arm around me and it felt good to snuggle against him. I couldn’t wait for Shyreen to be gone so we could get more intimate.

She paused at Lee’s words. “Wait, ya’ll going?” she said, looking at me. “Dressed like that?”

Confused, I stared down at my yellow blouse then back at her.

Shyreen laughed. “Girl, you’re already gonna be the only child and the only whitey there, why’re you gonna go and want to stand out lookin’ like a square, too?”

“She looks right to me,” Lee said, hugging me closer to his large body.

His sister rolled her eyes, placed a hand on one hip, and seemed to think. She said, “Charlene’s left a bunch of outfits upstairs, hon. Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

Still feeling unsure and confused I nevertheless stood, grabbed my purse, and gave Lee a pensive look before following his sister to the second floor of the small house. She brought me to what was unquestionably her bedroom and made small talk about how Lee was sweet but clueless when it came to fashion. “If I didn’t do his shopping for him he’d look as square as you,” she said, handing me a pile of clothes. “Hate to sound all rude but that suburban GAP store shit’ll make you a laughing stock at Lendy’s party. Here, try this.”

If I hadn’t been stoned I would have felt uncomfortable to change in front of a stranger, but not only was I high but I was anxious. Anxious to look good and to fit in at the upcoming party. Without a word I pulled off my blouse and kicked off my sneakers. Only after my jeans were off did I realize Shyreen was staring at me. My whole body blushed for a moment and I suddenly felt naked.

“Nice,” she grinned at me. “Least you got the underwear right. Your daddy know you buy lingerie like that?”

I shook my head as I pulled on the micro skirt she’d given me. It was bright red in color and barely covered the panties she was referring to but they seemed to fit okay. A thick plastic belt, which made up about a third of the garment, helped hold it in place. After studying it for a second I said, “Uhm, no, that guy, Daniel? He bought me all my underwear while I was … you know…”

“His slave?” she grinned. “Thought you said he didn’t let ya wear panties.”

“Sometimes, to pose for him,” I blushed. I was pulling on the skirt’s matching top, a sleeveless almost bikini-esq garment made of the same glistening nylon material as the skirt. I felt silly after it was on. I studied myself in Shyreen’s mirror and thought I looked like I was getting ready to go swimming.

Women actually wore outfits like this in public? I wondered. Ty’s neice, Charlene, was my age and this outfit was hers, so I guessed they had to. Still, it felt more like a costume than anything else. It left little to the imagination, exposing my flat tummy, bare arms, and ample cleavage. I shuddered at the prospect of wearing it outside because such clothes would provide absolutely no warmth. I looked at her while biting my lip and almost asked her if I could try on something else.

“Lookin’ fine, now, girl,” Shyreen said, adjusting my top a little so that it covered my bra. She was so obviously pleased with my appearance that I decided to trust her judgment. “Let’s get ya some shoes…”

Ten minutes later I walked down the stairs behind Shyreen on two-inch heeled shoes that matched the color of the skirt and top. Not only was I unused to heels but the shoes themselves were a half size too big for my feet and I kept almost falling over. I was nervous as hell but my mood immediately changed when I saw the expression on Lee’s face.

“Damn, damn, damn,” he said, nothing but lust in his stoned eyes. “Come ‘ere, girl, let me get a good look at you…”

I walked toward him, concentrating hard not to wobble in my new shoes, and stood in front of him with a shy smile on my lips. He put his hands on my slender hips and turned me around. I felt his large hand gently rub my tight round butt and shuddered at the sensation. Shyreen was watching all this with an amused expression on her exotic face. She said, “See, Becky? He gettin’ hard just lookin’ at you.”

Her words embarrassed me a little but it was true. When he turned me around again I stared down and saw a definite hardening of his member inside his loose jeans. “Ready to see it?” he said to me, his voice as casual as if asking if I wanted a soda.

“It’s never gonna fit in her,” I heard Shyreen say. Through the stoned haze I was in the thought occurred to me: how would she, his sister, know anything about the size of his penis?

In a daze I got on my knees, letting Lee gently guide me into a kneeling position. He said, “We’ll work it, won’t we, girl?”

Without another word he unzipped his pants, right in front of me and his sister, and took out his semi-hard cock as if it was no big deal. I wasn’t thinking about his sister anymore or the obscene outfit I was wearing. The sight of his large cock pushed all other thoughts out of my mind. It wasn’t quite as big as I’d imagined it to be when I’d felt it through his jeans a few nights earlier, but it was massive. Easily the largest cock I’d ever seen it rivaled the cucumber I’d once fucked myself with in girth. It had to be at least a foot long, too, probably closer to fourteen inches. Though he was a big, thick man the cock looked almost comically large on his frame. I looked up at him in wonderment, not sure what I should do. I’d never seen such a large cock in real life, after all.

Shyreen ended up breaking the silence. With a little laugh she said, “You sure don’t look like the pro-slut ev’one’s been talkin’ about! Why you scared?’

Lee was just staring at me with a lazy smile on his block-like face. I decided he was just waiting for me to do what came natural, so without another thought I gently reached out and took his half-erect penis in my hands. The touch of his dark black monster sent chills throughout my stoned body. Almost instantly it began to harden and I watched in wonderment as it grew and grew. I stroked it in short, nervous gestures, my right hand near its base and my left near its head. While I did this I realized that Shyreen was probably right: there was no way it’d ever fit into me.

“Lick it,” the woman said. She had moved over to the couch and was now sitting next to her brother. With a racing heart I glanced up at her, saw the slight, almost taunting smile on her attractive face, and gave her a nod. I leaned forward with my lips parted and stuck out my tongue.

Just as I tasted his cock for the first time all hell broke loose.

From outside car alarms went off and horns blared. Shyreen jumped from the couch and ran over to the window, parted the drapes, and cursed. Lee, meanwhile, pushed me aside and jumped to his feet and roughly pushed his impossibly large member back into his loose fitting pants. In total confusion I stared, breathless, as he joined his sister at the window.

“Five-oh,” he said in his usual deep, emotionless voice. “Flush the shit. Now.”

“Fuck!” Shyreen cursed but she rushed back to the coffee table where a small bag of weed, the ashtray, and the water bong sat. She grabbed them all while looking at me. In a hurried, almost angry voice she said, “What’re you doin’? Get the fuck out, get the fuck out!”

“What … what?” I asked, starting to stand.

Lee came to me in long, sure steps. The blaring noise from outside was getting louder as more and more car horns and alarms joined the initial chorus. “She’s right, you gots to get out, now,” he said, an undercurrent of urgency in his thick voice. He grabbed me by my upper arm and hauled me to my feet and started heading to the back of the house. “Find a place to hide then wait a couple hours. Someone’ll be here to bring you home…”

“Wait, what?” I stammered. He was practically dragging me to the backdoor of the small house and I had no idea what was going on. “Hide? Why? Where?”

“Just find a fuckin’ place to hide out!” he said. It was the first time he’d ever sounded angry at me and it sort of stung. “Cops are raidin’, might be nothin’ but if they bust up in here and find you, shit…”

We were at the back door and I heard the toilet flushing. Shyreen was getting rid of the pot, I realized. Scared shitless I said, “They’re coming for you?”

He pulled open the door, glanced around, and said, “Maybe, maybe Ty, maybe both…”

Shyreen appeared with my blue jacket. She looked angry but also scared. Less than a minute had passed since I’d tasted Lee’s dick and my head was spinning. She thrust my jacket at me and said, “Go, go on! Get!”

Lee sort of pushed, sort of guided me out the door. He was about to shut it when he noticed the expression of confusion and terror on my face. With a quick sigh he said, “Look, baby girl, the cops are ’bout to be all up in here. They find you with me? Shit, we’ll both to jail, dig? So just find a place to hide. Wait a couple hours. Stay low, an’ don’t come back if you see the poe-lease up in here. Wait it out … I’ll make sure someone’s here if I can, to take you home…”

“But, but,” I stammered. Suddenly there was a loud pounding sound coming from the front door of the house, a sound that broke through the blaring horns and car alarms and matched a voice screaming, “POLICE, OPEN UP!”

“Run, fuckin’ get out of here!” he said, a level of desperation in his voice. “You get picked up, don’t say shit! Say you was sellin’ cookies or some shit! Go!”

“Tell ’em nothing!” Shyreen agreed. “No snitchin’, no snitchin’!”

The door slammed shut and I was alone.

On automatic pilot now I stumbled away from the house. In the darkness the lights of police sirens twirled around from the front street as I headed across the incredibly short backyard to a chain link fence. I fell over and realized I couldn’t run wearing the two-inch heeled shoes. I pulled them off. Holding them in my left hand and my jacket in my right I somehow made it to the fence, barefoot, just before loud voices and the thumping of boots rang through my ears. I looked over my shoulder and saw two men in black body-armor with the large white letters “S.W.A.T.” stenciled on their backs. Panicked and desperate I slipped through a hole in the fence, into another house’s yard, and ran barefoot across it on the cold hibernating grass.

I ran down a narrow alley separating that house from another and onto another residential street much like the one Lee’s house was on. Feeling pursued even though I wasn’t I ran diagonally across the street, between two parked cars that looked like they belonged in a garbage dump, and across a cracked and broken sidewalk. Behind me the sounds of blaring car horns and alarms grew fainter, yet still I ran, convinced in my young stoned brain someone was right behind me.

Again I ran between two houses, through another back yard, and then I found myself stopped by another chain link fence. This one didn’t have a hole in it, though. I was running on pure adrenaline and without thinking I tossed both my shoes and my jacket over the fence then climbed over it. I fell to the other side in a heap. When I got back up I gathered my jacket and shoes and took off running again, running through the dark November night, out onto a non-residential street for the first time.

Hide, I thought, remembering Lee’s words. I had to find a place to hide. I glanced up and down the street and saw several boarded up businesses, a weed-ridden parking lot, and a gas station. Bathroom, I thought. That would be a good place to hide. I ran in the direction of the gas station and nearly out into traffic before realizing I was at a crosswalk. The light turned green for me after what felt like an eternity and I ran across the street, still feeling pursued and not caring that I looked practically naked to all the cars that had come to a halt at the light. I ran past a skinny black man bundled up in tattered coats and pushing a shopping cart full of empty aluminum cans. I passed another black man filling his SUV with gas and then went into the little building.

Breathless, now, I said to the gas station clerk who was reading a yellowed copy of Reader’s Digest, “I need to use the bathroom, please?”

He glanced up from his magazine, looking annoyed and tired. He was either Indian or Pakistani and he had a bushy mustache and graying hair. He said, “Paying customers only.”

“Okay,” I said, grabbing a pack of gum and slapping it on the counter, “I…”

My voice trailed off. I said, “Oh no…”

My purse. My purse was still in Shyreen’s bedroom, along with the clothes I’d been wearing. Tears formed in my eyes. “Please…” I started.

The gas station attendant licked his index finger, turned a page in his magazine, and said, “Paying customers only.”

Without a word I walked away. At the door of the small and grimy gas station I realized my feet were freezing cold. With tears of fear and confusion rolling down my cheeks I pulled my shoes back on, strapped them in place, and walked out on unsteady legs. I also pulled on my jacket. It was probably about thirty degrees outside but I hadn’t noticed the cold Fall air during my desperate run. I did now, though, as the initial panic and fear dissipated into desperation.

What was I going to do? I didn’t have my purse which meant I had no money, no cell phone, nothing. I was wearing an outfit that my jacket completely concealed as it reached down past my micro-skirt. Zipped up, the jacket made it look like I was naked beneath it. I had to find a place to hide, I knew, but what I really wanted was a way to get home.

I walked down the street carefully in the direction of brighter lights and more traffic. Maybe there would be a restaurant there, or a fast food place where I could hole-up in a bathroom without needing to pay for anything. I glanced over in the direction of Cleveland’s downtown, its skyline. I’d be safer there, I thought, where all the theaters and businesses were located. Out here in the ghetto I was way too vulnerable. But the downtown area was so far away. I saw a rusted and bent sign for the bus-line and almost stopped, then remembered I had no money to pay the fare even if the buses were running.

At the corner of another major intersection I saw a payphone and decided I had to do it. I had to call for help. I picked up the phone and made a collect phone call to my house. Jason would be there. He’d do God knew what to me when I explained the situation to him, but anything was better than being where I was.

“Becky,” I said when the automated voice of the collect-call service asked who was calling. I heard the phone ring. And ring. And ring.

No one answered. Jason either wasn’t home or he wasn’t answering the phone.

I began to cry. I felt naked and alone and terrified and even though I was still sort of stoned there was nothing soft and comforting about my high. The situation I was in was awful. Could I find a place to hide? Yes, I decided, finally. There was no other choice, no other way. I had to find a safe place to hide out for a while, then go back to Lee’s house. He said someone would be there to bring me home. He’d promised.

I started walking again. Click-clack went my two-inch heel shoes on the concrete, my jacket wrapped around my body. I felt naked and alone and scared. But then I saw, way off in the distance, two golden arches alight in the dark November sky. Maybe fifteen minutes away. There would be a bathroom there, at that McDonald’s. I could hide there, I decided. I hurried my pace.

A car heading toward me slowed then stopped. The passenger window rolled down. I would have ignored it and kept walking except the car was clean and new looking, unlike most of the cars on this street. Also, the man who called out to me was white. I hate to say it, but seeing another white face out there was a relief. The middle aged man said, “You need a ride?”

I paused. Glancing around uncertainly, I nonetheless walked over to the passenger side window and leaned in to get a better look at the man. He was clean-cut looking and wore khaki’s and a polo shirt. He was a bit overweight but had a friendly smile on his aging face. I said, “I really do…”

A loud “CLACK” sound rang through my ears. He’d unlocked the passenger side door. “Then get in,” he said.

Getting into a stranger’s car went against everything I’d ever been taught about safety. But I was cold, stoned, confused, and scared. The idea that he would give me a ride, if even just down the street to the McDonald’s, was irresistible. Without any hesitation I opened the door to his sedan and got in. The warmth hit me like a ton of bricks and made me shudder.

“Where you headed?” the man asked.

“I want to go home,” I stammered, not sure what else to say. I told him where I lived and he laughed.

“That’s a pretty long drive,” he said. “You a cop?”

I blinked at him. “What? No…”

“I haven’t seen you out here before,” he mused before making a u-turn. “You one of Gus’s girls?”

I was really confused now. His car was pointed in the direction of the McDonald’s, at least, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry. “I just want to go home,” I said. Pointing a shaky finger that was pink from the cold I added, “Or just … if you can bring me to that McDonald’s…”

He gave me a sly look and turned right down a short, dark alley. He turned left at the end of it and parked in another narrow alley next to a Dumpster. He said, “Let’s cut the bullshit. All I want is a blowjob and I’ll pay twenty. I’m not a cop, see?”

The man unzipped his pants and I watched him do so in slow motion. What was going on? He took out his slender white dick and he held it out for me, flaccid, and he grinned. “Just a blowjob. Take off the jacket, I want to see you.”

I gulped. He was a John, I realized. He’d picked me up thinking I was a hooker. I realized that, given my outfit, I sort of looked the part. I’d seen a couple episodes of a TV show that followed cops around busting everyone from drug dealers to prostitutes and for the first time I understood that my outfit made me look like a “street walker”. This realization surprised me when my stoned and confused young body shuddered with delight. Instantly I remembered Proverbs 23:27-28, “A prostitute is a deep pit and a wayward wife is a narrow well. Like a bandit she lies in wait, and multiplies the unfaithful among men.” It was a quote in my Book of Sins under Prostitution. I licked my lips then I bit my lower one.

“Well?” he said, the car still running. “$20. Should be enough to get you a cab ride home.”

He was teasing me with that last sentence. He didn’t believe I really just wanted a ride home. I thought for a minute then gave in to my nature. I sort of watched myself, detached, as my little hands went up and began to unzip my jacket. He whistled at the sight of my barely developed adolescent body and the obscene outfit I was wearing but still I only felt detached. I shrugged the jacket off my shoulders and he slid forward in his seat. His cock was getting hard. With absolutely no expression on my face I heard myself say, “Give me the money.”

He grinned. “I knew you were workin’,” he said. “Damn it, though, you junkie street walkers are getting younger all the time. Here.” He gave me two wrinkled ten-dollar bills. I shoved them into the tight belt of my micro-skirt. I felt dirty and electric, excited and scared, but I leaned forward anyway and as if in slow motion, took his penis into my mouth.

Being paid to give a blowjob was exciting. There was no denying it. I felt myself getting damp between my legs even as the acrid smell of his crotch filled my nostrils. I licked the head of his small pecker and then gagged myself on it, knowing I could take it all without any real effort since his was definitely the smallest cock I’d ever had. $20, I kept thinking, just for doing this … it made me feel whorish, and ashamed, but it also made me feel safe. I would have enough money, after, to pay for a taxi to take me home. He’d said so himself and that’s all I wanted, now, to go home and forget all about the city and Lee and the Four-Oh Crew. I worked his cock with nothing but my tongue and throat and he worked his hands into my blond hair, urging me, helping me.

It was a dirty, nasty blowjob. I tried no to think about it, I just did what I knew how to do. Still, I couldn’t deny the feeling of my young pussy growing damper and damper. Trying to ignore that I kept thinking to myself, “$20 and I can go home” over and over again. Somehow this helped and I resisted the urge to touch myself. I was just doing this for the money, to get myself back home…

He came after only a few minutes. When he did he cursed, apparently upset that he hadn’t lasted longer. I swallowed all of his cum, a non-event, and only felt silly after he said, “What a good cocksucker. Shit. Go buy your crack.”

His words made me blush and come to terms with what I’d just done. I wiped my lips with the back of one hand and averted his eyes. I would write about this in my Book of Sins, I thought. Yet another sin to write about. Daniel would have been so proud. I shivered in my seat even though the car was so nice and warm.

“Get out,” he said, reaching over and opening my door for me. I nearly fell as he pushed my small body out into the alley. Before the door even closed he was driving away, leaving me alone on the cold concrete ground. “What?” I yelled, but it was too late. He was gone.

He’d treated me like trash. Like I was disposable. For some reason that ratcheted up the feelings I had of being hot and excited. Plus, now I had $20 whereas I’d been broke only a few minutes before. I was still stuck in the ghetto but at least I wasn’t broke. All it cost me was a quick blowjob. That was a good thing, I told myself. I stood up, looked around, and started to walk in the direction he’d driven. The McDonald’s was that way. I could buy something to eat. McNuggets and fries, a Coke. Then I could hide in the bathroom, maybe, and find my way back to Lee’s…

After a few feet the cold Autumn air hit me and I realized I didn’t have my jacket anymore.

“No!” I cried. I’d left the jacket in the stranger’s car. Without my jacket I was literally shivering. My tight red top and tight red micro-skirt did nothing to keep me warm. I stumbled down the alley, hugging myself, hoping the car driving away from me would stop and throw out my jacket. It didn’t. I watched it turn off the alley onto a main road, disappearing forever.

He had my jacket and he was gone.

All thoughts of fast food and hiding disappeared from my frantic head. I had to find a phone. I had money now, $20. The man I’d just sucked off had said it’d be enough to get me home in a taxi. When I made it to the end of the alley I was relieved to see that the McDonald’s was just across the street. There would be a pay phone inside, I told myself. I ran across after traffic passed and got to the door just as it was being locked.

“No!” I cried. The young black man locking up the place eyed me up and down, grinned, then pointed to a sign. It read, “Walk-ins 7am to 8pm, drive-through 7am-2am”.

I almost started crying again but then I saw a payphone in the fast-food restaurant’s parking lot. I ran over to it, as carefully as I could, and dialed 411. I asked for a taxi. I shivered and waited, feeling the cool autumn air. It was so cold. Cars slowed as they passed by, watching me, but I turned away from them. I’d never felt so exposed and embarassed and alone before. But if I could just get a taxi I could be home within the hour…

They all think I’m a hooker, I realized after one car honked its horn as it passed by. I curled up underneath the phone, desperate for them not to see me.

It was the best thing I’d ever seen before when, ten minutes later, a black and white taxi pulled up to the curb. With hardened and chilled fingers I opened the back door, jumped in, and nearly cried my thanks to the old and fat female driver. She was middle-eastern with a hard edge to her and she eyed me suspiciously. I gave her my address.

“See cash first,” she said, sounding wary in her thick accent.

“Oh,” I replied. I took the two worn and wrinkled $10 bills I’d recently “earned” and handed them to her.

She laughed. “It cost at least eighty-dollar to get there,” she said. “What is this?”

My heart plummeted. “Eighty?” I said. I started to cry. “Please, please! Just, just get me there, please! My brother will pay the rest, I promise…”

“Get out,” she said, a sound of disgust.

Once again I was on the street corner. Cold and alone. Scary dark buildings and scary dark people all around me. I wanted to crumple up and die.

Instead I walked. Where to, I didn’t know. Should I head back towards Lee’s house? I shook my head and blew warm air onto my fingertips. I wouldn’t even be able to find my way back there anymore, I realized. I was lost in the ghetto, a small white girl lost in a large dark area. The few people walking around gave me evil, nasty looks. One of them would eventually grab me, and hurt me, maybe even kill me, I thought.

I briefly considered calling the police. They would have to take me home for free, wouldn’t they? But the idea of getting the cops involved terrified me. Lee had said that they would put me in jail. And I was stoned, after all. Even though my high was ebbing I was just paranoid enough to think that they’d know and would lock me up for it. I had to find a way home without them.

A rusting minivan slowed next to me. The passenger window rolled down. I heard a voice say, “I thought the cops busted up Gus’s girls?”

I sighed through chattering teeth but stopped walking. An idea entered my head. The driver was overweight but only barely. He was Mexican and probably in his late 20’s. I walked over to the passenger side door and said, “I don’t work for Gus.”

“Yeah?” he said, raising one dark eyebrow. He looked me over and licked his lips. “Then who you work for, chica?”

He thought I was a hooker, just like the sedan-driving stranger had. But this minivan driving Mexican had a warm vehicle I could sit in and it occurred to me that I could maybe get him to drive me home … or pay me enough so that I could get there.

Prostitute, I thought with a shudder. My mind flashed to Daniel’s “Book of Sins”.

Garnering up all my courage, I gave the man a false smile and said, “I’ll work for you for $80…”

He stared at me for a second, then laughed. “Get in, get in!”

I did.

He drove around the block and parked in a dark parking lot of a boarded up old church. He was about to kill the engine but I begged him to keep it on. “I’m so cold,” I explained, holding my hands to the heat vents. The hot air felt magnificent.

He turned off the headlights and grinned at me. “You look hungry,” he said. “Maybe you need a better pimp? Maybe Gus ain’t right for you?”

 

Still warming my hands and feet at the vents of his car I turned and said, “I honestly don’t work for Gus.”

His expression grew serious. “Then you better not hook out here, chica. They shut him down last week but he’ll kill anyone who tries to take his territory. Even a pretty young thing like you.”

I shrugged, too caught up in the warm air on my toes and fingers to pay much attention to his words. “I just want to go home,” I said. “I don’t … this isn’t me.”

He chuckled. “Course not, course not,” he said. He touched my bare left shoulder. “I’ll give you an even Ben if you leave me your panties…”

I wasn’t sure what he meant until I saw the hundred dollar bill. Benjamin Franklin’s face was smiling at me. Enough to get home, I thought, as a chill of desire tingled beneath my skirt. I licked my lips and stared out at the boarded up church. After a long moment I finally whispered, “Okay.”

“Turn around,” he said.

The only thought in my head was that $100 bill. With one last look at that boarded up church I turned and got on my knees in the passenger seat. A moment later I felt him scuttle up behind me. There wasn’t much room but he crammed himself behind me, mutterings some things in Spanish that I couldn’t understand. He reached up underneath my micro-skirt and pulled down my expensive panties. He only pulled them down to my knees but it made me feel naked just the same. He said, “I’m gonna bare-back…”

I couldn’t protest even if I’d wanted to. His body was pushing my tiny one into the passenger seat, barely allowing me to move. He pulled up my little skirt, exposing my sex to him, and I bit my lower lip. God help me, I kept thinking. God help me but I’m wet.

Prostitute.

He pushed his hard member against the skin of my vulva without a word and easily pressed his cock between the lips of my sex. I grunted. The $100 bill floated in my mind. I dug my fingers into the seat and grunted, softly, as the tightness of my immature pussy resisted his thrust.

“You’re too young, too young for this,” he breathed, but he was pushing harder into me. Inside of me. I felt him enter my body, finally, and I cried out.

“Too hard?” he asked, sounding worried.

“No, no,” I breathed. But it was, and my eyes were as damp as my pussy all of a sudden. Still, I needed that Benjamin. “Keep … just keep … going… ,” I told him. I didn’t like that he seemed to care about how I felt. I didn’t want him to care. I just wanted him to use me the way all men, even my own brother, did. Use me and forget me, I urged him mentally, but leave me that Benjamin.

I thought of Proverbs as he pushed himself inside me again. I was having sex for money. I was a prostitute. Literally, I was now a whore. A tear leaked down my face as he pushed in deeper and I tried to spread my legs but the passenger car’s seat was too narrow. I groaned and then wanted to scream. Instead I bit the seat, the upholstery there, and I came. The orgasm was unexpected but in reflection it made sense. What I was doing was just too nasty, too wrong, too horrible. Either I had to hate myself or love the feeling of being fucked for money. I chose the love, just as I always had.

“Little girl…” he groaned as he pushed the last of his cock into me. His hands were on my ass but I wished they were on my small breasts. My nipples were on fire and desperate to be touched. Instead they were pressed uncomfortably into the set I was kneeling on. He liked my butt and he gripped my ass cheeks as he thrust in and out of my barely pubescent body. It was as wonderful as it was wrong. And he was paying me for this…

Lights lit up the dark parking lot in an instant, flooding into the minivan and confusing the hell out of me. The Mexican was deep inside me, really working his cock in and out, now. Confused, I looked over to my left and saw other lights: blue and red lights, flashing. What was going on? I heard the man inside me curse and felt him pull out of my tiny body just as the driver’s side door was yanked open.

“FREEZE!” the uniformed police officer yelled. When I looked at him, though, all I could see with my terrified eyes was his gun which was pointed right at me.

The Mexican never had a chance to cum inside me. The passenger side door opened a second after the driver’s side door did and he was pulled off of me right away. Another gun was in my face and I gasped, “What?”.

I was pulled out of the car and thrown to the ground. My tight micro-skirt was still up around my hips and someone, someone large, was pulling my slender arms behind my back. Handcuffs were put in place around my wrists. Again I cried, “What? What!?”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” the voice said. “You’re under arrest.”

There were two cop cars in the parking lot. I was marched to the one with the flood-light that had first pointed into the darkness of the minivan. The Mexican was blubbering something and being marched to the other car. A slender young police officer put his hand on the top of my head and helped me take a seat in the backseat of his squad car. My pussy burned, yearning for another orgasm, but in my head I was totally freaking out.

I sat there, on the thick plastic backseat of the cop car with my hands cuffed behind me, for what felt like ages. I was being arrested for prostitution, I thought to myself. How would I ever explain that to my dad?! My life was over because he was definitely going to kill me! I trembled from head to toe and couldn’t stop crying. The pain and discomfort from the handcuffs didn’t come close to the pain and discomfort in my head. Over and over again I imagined my father bailing me out of jail and driving me home with a stern, angry look on his face. What would he do to me? Death almost seemed like the best option.

After a few minutes I watched through the window as the Mexican was let out of the other cop car. The cop pointed his finger in the Mexican’s face and said something to him and the man just nodded his head, obviously scared himself. Then the cop gave him back his keys and the man practically ran back to his minivan. I couldn’t believe it. Why weren’t they arresting him, too? In my naive teenage brain I figured maybe hiring prostitutes wasn’t as bad a crime as being one. The thought made me shudder with humiliation and shame. I watched with a desperate and sorrowful heart as the minivan drove out of the dark parking lot a moment later.

I stared down into my naked lap and realized my panties were still around my knees. Embarrassed, I started to squirm in my seat in a vain attempt to bring them back up to where they belonged. Not that it mattered: both cops had already seen my naked ass and pussy. That thought made me groan audibly in despair. I gave up trying to get my underwear in place and watched as the second cop car also left the parking lot, just behind the Mexican’s minivan.

“Becky Sullivan, I presume?”

The police officer’s voice stunned me. He was sitting in the driver’s seat but I hadn’t realized he’d entered his car. I turned my small body away from him, trying to hide my naked lower half. Then it struck me: how did he know my name? I must have told it to the Mexican, I thought, but that didn’t seem right.

“You are Becky Sullivan?” he pressed.

I whimpered. The silence that followed was broken by the squawk of his radio. I heard him grab it and speak irritably into its speaker, “10-13, this is one-niner-five. Unable to respond, over.”

He reached into the backseat of his squad car and gripped me by my hair. He pulled it, hard, and I yelped in pain. For the first time I saw his grinning face and I was terrified. He didn’t look like Officer Buddy, the cop that visited my school sometimes to explain why drugs were bad and stuff like that. He looked evil and uncaring. Cops were supposed to help people but I knew right away he wasn’t there to help me.

“Yes. Becky Sullivan,” he said after examining my face. He let go of my hair and a moment later he was on his cell phone.

“I got her,” he said into it. “Yes, Sir, we’ll be right there.”

Without another word to me he started to drive. I cried softly in the backseat, wanting to say something or at least ask him where he was taking me but unable to do so.

He drove for what felt like forever and through the window I saw that we were approaching Cleveland’s downtown area. I was surprised when he pulled into a dark parking lot of an unlit building because I had figured he was bringing me to police headquarters. This small building couldn’t be the headquarters, though, I thought. It looked like a dead and abandoned old building.

The police officer yanked open the back door and somehow through the darkness I saw his name written just below his police badge: Officer Lundy. He pulled me out of the car and I nearly fell down because of my two-inch heeled shoes and the silk panties around my thighs. Officer Lundy didn’t care, though. He practically dragged me toward the dark building, up some steps, and to a door. All the while I groaned and whimpered nonsensically.

While he unlocked the door I somehow managed to calm down enough to speak. “Are you arresting me?” I begged, tears streaming down my face. “I, please, I just want…”

“Shut up, whore,” he said, slapping me on the back of my head.

Once we were inside the building I realized something wasn’t right. Everything was dark. I was led past what looked like a waiting room, only there was nobody there. Officer Lundy pushed me past an abandoned desk and into a hallway that was as dark and quiet as that waiting room. There was a smell of dust in the air as though the building hadn’t been occupied in a long time. To my left and right I saw empty offices. It was as if the building was totally abandoned.

At the end of the hallway I was pushed against the wall and Lundy started to frisk me. Even though I was in handcuffs, he frisked me from head to toe. His hands took a long time searching my breasts for weapons but they found none. I started to really wail and cry when he rubbed my naked pussy beneath my skirt and he said, “Get used to it, whore.”

What did that mean? “Get used to it”? I shuddered and felt weak all over. For the first time I started to realize that I wasn’t being arrested after all, but that didn’t make me feel any better. If anything it scared me all the more. What was he going to do to me?

He opened the door after frisking me and suddenly I saw a large prison cell on the other side of a short hallway. Without a word he opened its door and threw me inside.

I was still handcuffed. Stumbling, I managed to find the stainless steel cot bolted against the far wall without falling over. I dropped onto it and collapsed with grief and fear in my heart. The door to the cell closed with a loud, terrifying sound and suddenly I was alone, locked up in the dark.

Eventually I fell asleep. Despite the cold, despite the darkness, and despite the terror and confusion I felt about my situation, I passed out into a deep slumber. Between being stoned, running through the streets of Cleveland’s ghetto, prostituting myself and then finally being picked up by the cops, I just crashed. I’d gone through too much. My tired young body needed to sleep.

I wish I could have slept forever. Instead, maybe two hours or so after being pushed into the jail cell I was rudely pulled up by my shoulders. Instantly I awoke and blinked in confusion at the brightness: lights were on, now, and the cell felt a little warmer than it had been earlier. The man shaking me was Officer Lundy and he was saying, ” … whore, I said wake up!”

I gasped and nodded my head. He grinned at me and pulled me to my feet. Without letting go of my shoulders he walked behind me and sort of thrust me into the middle of the large cell. That’s when I realized we weren’t alone.

Five large men, two in police uniforms, were standing at the other end of the cell. The man in the middle was wearing a nice Italian suit with an overcoat that reminded me of police detectives from old cheesy movies. He eyed me up and down and said, “You’re Becky Sullivan.” It wasn’t a question.

“Please,” I sobbed. I squirmed desperately in Officer Lundy’s hold and that seemed to amuse the five men. After a moment of silence I said, “I want to go home!”

Now the men chuckled. The one in the expensive looking suit took a step forward and said, “Home, huh? Do you mean to your home in the suburbs or your home with the Four Oh Crew?”

I sputtered for a minute, confused again. How did he know about me and the Four Oh Crew? How did he know anything about me?

The suit wearing man walked up to me and gripped me by my chin. I stared up into his face, my eyes wide with fear. He was so much taller than me, so big and fit. His dark hair was struck with streaks of gray and his face was chisled and hardened. He said, “Don’t look so surprised, Becky. We’ve been looking for you ever since you joined the crew. Word is you rolled a twelve for your initiation and took all them nigger cocks like a pro. Fletch?”

Another man, Fletch, came around and took me from Officer Lundy before I could respond. The new man, Fletch, uncuffed my wrists and pulled my arms up over my head then recuffed them before I could even blink. Lundy, meanwhile, used a stepladder to attach a length of chain to a hook that was bolted in the center of the ceiling. I gasped with pain and fear as Fletch hefted my small body up and Lundy used a padlock to attach my cuffs to the end of the chain. Fletch let go of my body and I fell just a few inches but more than enough to send searing pain into my shoulders. I kicked my legs, trying to find the floor, but I couldn’t reach it.

The six men sort of encircled me while I kicked and blubbered nonsensically. I was hanging from the ceiling and felt completely vulnerable and totally panicked. The handcuffs dug painfully into my wrists and I started to wail like a child.

“Scream and cry all you want, you little bitch,” the man in the suit said. He gripped me again by my chin, which was now almost level with his face, and said, “No one’s going to hear you. This here is the 11th Precinct, shut down these past two years. It’s scheduled for demolition six months from now and no one but us will be inside it until then.

“Now,” he went on, letting go of my chin and letting me twist in the air for a few moments, “My name is Captain Zuiker. I’m in charge of an informal club of CPD officers dedicated to one thing: keeping the fucking niggers in their place. We don’t want them in the better districts of the city, we don’t want them in the fucking suburbs. You understand?”

I didn’t, but I nodded anyway. He continued, “A couple nights ago we began hearing from some of our informants that a little white bitch from the burbs had joined the Four Oh Crew. Earlier today we found your purse in the home of one of that gang’s leading gun runners, Lee Donahue. And two hours ago we caught you fucking a spick in the front seat of his minivan. Care to explain?”

I was feeling dizzy and confused but I knew I had to say something. “I wanted to go home,” I blubbered. “I needed money for a cab, I just want to go home!”

The men chuckled again. It was obvious they didn’t believe me. Captain Zuiker slowly unbuckled his belt and pulled it out from the loops around his waist. After he had it free he doubled it over and gripped it by its loose ends and slowly patted his left hand with it. The soft smacking sound it made filled the quiet air and my heart rate about doubled. He said, “Really? That’s your story?”

I gulped and fresh tears came to my eyes. “I swear, I swear!” I managed to blubber.

The words were barely out of my mouth when suddenly Zuiker swung the doubled-over belt down onto my small breasts. The pain was intense and I screamed like a dying animal as the force of the blow sent my body swinging back through the air.

“Try again,” he said, his voice cold and deadly. “Why were you fucking that spick?”

Blubbering in confusion I somehow managed to squeak, “F-for money, f-for money!”

He gently rubbed my right breast through my tight fitting top, right where he’d just struck me. In a caring tone of voice he said, “And the money was for… ?”

I blinked in fear. What did he want me to say? I’d already told him the truth and he’d hit me for it! Desperate to please him I sputtered, “I … f-for … home!”

He brought the belt back and this time he struck me across my flat little tummy. The loud smacking sound was quickly followed by my screams as the pain exploded across my soft body. I kicked helplessly in the air and blubbered in dismay. The men surrounding me just looked on with absolutely no pity in their eyes.

“Tell me the truth, whore!” Zuiker yelled in my face. “You’re hooking for the Four Oh Crew, aren’t you?”

“YES!” I screamed, willing now to say anything to avoid anymore torture.

Zuiker grinned. In a calm voice he said, “You know what that makes you? That makes you a race traitor. You’ve betrayed your own kind to help out a group of niggers.”

The rest of the men murmured their agreement and I just bobbed my head. “I’m, s-sorry,” I blubbered. “P-please let me, let me go!”

Captain Zuiker chuckled. “Let you go? Why, so you can go out and fuck some more niggers, maybe get knocked up and pollute our race with fucking nigger blood? Nah, I don’t think so.

“You see, Becky,” he continued, lovingly brushing my long hair out of my face and behind my ears, “usually when we catch race traitors like you they’re too old to help. You know, junkies and whores in their late teens and twenties. Best we can do with them is throw ’em in prison, lock them away from animals like the Four Oh Crew and hope they get wise before they go on betraying the Aryan race again. When we heard stories about how young you were, though, we agreed that if we caught you we’d try and do what your father obviously never did: teach you a lesson.

“That’s why we’re here,” he said, walking around me now and gently dragging the end of the belt around my waist as he circled me. “We’re here to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget. To teach you why having sex outside your race is as sinful and disgusting as bestiality. Do you know what bestiality is, Becky?”

I groaned in pain and fear, unsure what to say. Did they somehow know I’d lost my virginity to a dog, too? Did they somehow know everything about me? Too weak to say anything I nodded my head and braced myself to be hit again.

He didn’t hit me. Instead he said, “Then you know that having sex with animals is wrong. According to the school ID in your purse you attend a Catholic school. Maybe for politically correct reasons they didn’t teach you this but having sex with niggers is the same as bestiality. It’s sex with another race. A terrible sin in God’s eyes. Understand?”

Again I nodded my head. I would have agreed with anything he said at that point. I just wanted to be uncuffed and let go or at the very least avoid any more pain. He smiled at me and gently stroked my cheek with the back of his free hand.

“There’s a good little girl,” he whispered. “Still, I’ve learned from personal experience that children your age forget the lessons they’re taught unless something is done to reinforce them. My own daughter, for instance, didn’t stop shoplifting until she had to spend a night in jail. Of course, she was already nineteen and basically a lost cause. I don’t want you to end being a lost cause too, Becky. That’s why we’ve decided to reinforce your lesson ourselves. Fletch?”

The cop named Fletch walked toward me and to my horror I saw that he had a switchblade in his hand. My mind raced to figure out something to say, something that would save my life, but it came up empty. I was sure he was about to slice my throat open and an unholy, desperate sound issued from my mouth. When he used the knife to slice open my tight red top instead, right between my small tits, I almost laughed in relief.

He cut my tight micro skirt next, then my panties which were still around my thighs. Both fell off my tiny body as I whimpered helplessly. Only my bra was left. I began to react to my nakedness instinctively, kicking into the air and blubbering for help, when his knife cut away at the back of the strapless bra I was wearing. All of a sudden I was completely nude, hanging in front of these men, and totally uncertain about what their plans for me were.

“I’m going to beat you now, Becky,” Zuiker said, his voice calm and his dark gray eyes staring into mine. He touched the belt against my left nipple and whispered, “So next time you’re tempted to betray your race the memory of the pain you’re about to endure will make you think twice. It’s for your own good.”

“NO!” I cried. I began to really kick into the air and thrash around in desperation. “Please, no, I won’t be bad anymore, please, please!”

“Hmm,” he said, apparently considering my pleas. For the briefest of moments I thought he had reconsidered hurting me anymore, but then he reached his free hand into his Italian suit and pulled out a gun. I stopped thrashing and wailing and just stared at it, terrified. He pointed it at my heart. Suddenly I closed my eyes, convinced I was about to die.

“This is the other option, Becky,” he said calmly. “I can kill you and guarantee you won’t pollute the white race anymore. Either that or I can beat you. Which will it be?”

With my eyes still closed I whimpered and nodded my head. I didn’t want to die.

“What?” he said, sounding curious. “You want to die?”

“No!” I begged. I opened my eyes and saw that he was smiling. The gun loomed in front of him, though, and was still pointed at my chest. I stuttered, “B-beat me…”

The gun didn’t move at first and silence filled the air. Then, ever so slowly, he put it back in its holster. “Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll beat the whore right out of you, the race traitor right out of you. Someday, when you’re old enough to understand that niggers like the Four Oh Crew are a cancer on our race and city, you’ll be glad you received this lesson.”

I highly doubted that, but I was smart enough not to contradict him. He was a racist, all six of these men were, and they were using their racist philosophy as an excuse to hurt me. They weren’t teaching me any lesson, they just wanted to beat on a poor, scared young girl. That’s what I told myself, at least. In the brief moment before the beating began I swore to myself that I would never, ever subscribe to their philosophy.

The first blow from Zuiker’s belt struck me right across the small pink nipple on my left breast. It hurt so bad that I couldn’t even scream. I was having a hard time getting air into my lungs anyway, hanging from my wrists as I was, but the pain from that blow was so blinding and all encompassing that I simply didn’t have enough energy to whisper let alone cry out. The next blow followed quickly after the first, striking me across my small right breast and again I couldn’t make a sound. When the third blow returned to my left breast, however, I suddenly shrieked and began to kick my slender legs into the air. He hit me again, across my face this time with the belt, a strong blow that snapped my head back over my shoulder and made me think he’d knocked loose one of my teeth. I whimpered pitifully just as he landed another blow across my tummy.

After several more blows to my poor, sore breasts he walked around me and began to hit my ass instead. That wasn’t as bad as the blows to my tits but I screamed throughout them just as loud. My throat was raw from screaming by the time he turned his attention to my shaved pussy and that’s when I learned a new definition of pain.

I nearly passed out from the first blow of the leather belt onto my young quim. The pain radiated throughout my small body and I truly felt that I was going to die. He seemed to like my reaction to that and he grinned at me, swung the belt back, and brought it up between my thrashing legs again with the force of a tsunami. I felt the hard black leather crush into my slender vulva and once again I couldn’t scream. I had no air in me, no energy at all. Everything began to fade to black as he returned his punishing belt back to my stomach and tits.

Unconsciousness didn’t come, though. It would have been a mercy if it had. For the next ten minutes he brutalized my nude, barely adolescent body with his belt, striking me all over from head to toe. My face, my arms, my dangling legs; nothing was off limits. He never tired and in fact he seemed to grow stronger during the course of the beating. About halfway through I felt my body grow numb and my screams stopped from sheer fatigue but he seemed to realize this and he found fresh areas to strike. He focused on my armpits, my neck. Any area he hadn’t already beaten black and blue. He hit them with tremendous force and I grunted and cried each time. But he always returned to my pussy and tits, favorites of his since they elicited the loudest and most desperate screams and cries for mercy.

When the blows finally stopped I was hanging there by my wrists, blood now dripping from the metal handcuffs that cut into my wrists. I wasn’t moving anymore. All I could do was whimper pathetically as my slumped body swung softly in the air. I was little more than a piece of teenage meat swinging softly in the air, thoroughly tenderized by the CPD Captain’s belt. I would have asked for death rather than undergo anymore such torment.

One of the men gripped me around my developing waist and lifted me, relieving the terrible pain from my arms and shoulders. A moment later he carried me over to the steel cot after someone uncuffed me from the chain. I was laid down on the bed, my eyes shut and my lips trembling. My mind was racing through a myriad of emotions as it tried to simultaneously block out the terrible pain that echoed throughout my small body. When the first man climbed on top of me I was like putty in his hands. I didn’t resist nor encourage the way he handled me. He spread my legs apart and put his cock at the entrance to my bald vagina. Somewhere far away I heard the voices of the other men encourage him while also calling me a race traitor and a whore. I barely felt it at first when the cock pushed up into me.

The dry, brutal entrance into my body didn’t seem real at first. I was in too much agony to register anything but the pain. But then something snapped inside me, some deep seated carnal lust that realized I was being fucked. My eyes snapped open and I saw the man, one of the uniformed officers, hovering above me. Strength came back to my slender arms and I reached up and gripped his massive shoulders. He grinned down at me with an angry leer that sent shivers down my spine.

Inside my tiny body I felt his cock press deeper and deeper inside me. I was no longer dry. My juiced up young pussy helped suck him inside me and my fingers dug into his shoulders. I winced with pain as my brutalized body was pushed down into the hard, steel cot. Somehow, though, I moaned with pleasure as that pain mixed with pleasure from the sex I was having in front of all these men. It was almost as if my body was amplifying the pleasure of this rape in order to cover up the pain of the beating I’d just endured. In any case I’d never experienced such tremendous and instant pleasure the penis raping itself into me now brought.

The other uniformed officer gripped me roughly by my hair and tugged my head toward him. He was standing next to the cot and he had his cock out. Like the man fucking me he was also fully clothed in his dark blue uniform, his dick sticking out between his unzipped slacks. He pressed his member into my lips and without a thought I opened my mouth and accepted his entry. I moaned around it, the cock in my pussy pulsing within me now. Saliva dripped down my chin and I couldn’t help but enjoy it as he basically throat fucked me.

Captain Zuiker appeared next to the bed and his cock was also out. It was hard and long and he took my left hand off of the shoulder of the cop who was fucking me and placed it around his dick. I jerked it with his help and then started to really moan around the cock in my throat. My young body was beginning to cum and I found myself wrapping my legs around the cop who was fucking me. I stared up into his eyes as he grunted and came, his cock a firehouse blasting up his baby-seed into my young cunny.

Zuiker got on top of me after that and he, too, forced his cock into my young sex. One of the other plain-clothes men stepped over and took Zuiker’s place and my hand was on automatic pilot. I jerked him off while both my throat and cunt were fucked. All the pain my body had gone through seemed to disappear. My body tingled with sexual pleasure. My tight young pussy was being brutally fucked by Zuiker, the man who had hurt me so bad before, and his thick member was sending wave after wave of pleasure throughout out my body.

He started to grip my tiny breasts, then, and for some reason he spat on them. The degradation of being spat on made my whole body shudder with perverted pleasure. An amazing climax was about to occur, I knew, and without thinking I wrapped my slender legs around Zuiker. Before I could cum, though, I began to choke. The uniformed cop fucking my throat was ejaculating and I couldn’t breathe. My bruised face turned red then purple as he gripped me by my ears, holding his cock down my throat. I almost passed out. At the last moment he pulled back and I gulped down both sperm and air. Both were delicious and I grunted with pleasure.

One of the other men replaced him before too long. Once again my groaning, moaning mouth was being fucked by a cock. Meanwhile I was jerking a dick with one hand and getting fucked in my pussy by the captain. He had incredible stamina and lasted nearly an hour. By the time he finally said, “Let’s put a white baby in you” I climaxed and shuddered from head to toe.

Another man took his place after him. It was all a blur, though. I was delirious from the fucking, the taste of sperm, the climaxes. I felt as though I was waking from some terrible dream when the last man ejaculated onto my small tits. I blinked my eyes at him, trying to figure out why he was there. He stepped back after cumming and zipped up his pants. With a look of disgust in his eyes he said one word: “Whore.”

I curled up against the wall after that. The sound of the cell’s door closing confirmed that I was now alone. I whimpered myself into an uncomfortable sleep as the pain from my beating really began to register throughout my young body.

That pain would endure for a long while, I realized. It would take a long time for me to heal. Pleasure was quick but pain was long.

There were no tears left for me to sob into sleep. But sleep I did, eventually.

The next day I awoke with a groan. I ached in unprecedented agony as I stretched out my young, naked body on the steel bed inside the cell. It was dark again inside my prison but, thankfully, it was warm. I found the toilet and used it then returned to my bed. I curled up and tried to sleep but I just couldn’t. I ended up spending hours staring up into the darkness, wondering what would become of me.

Lights came on a few hours later and I was shocked at the sight of my body. Looking down at it I almost wanted to throw up. Usually it was soft and white and smooth. Now it was bumpy and stricken with black bruises I’d felt but hadn’t seen. I looked totally beaten, totally hurt. My body looked almost like a corpse. It was practically dead: just black and blue and red and swollen. The sight of it made me cry.

More tears came to my eyes just as the cell door opened. I glanced over and saw a tall man in a police uniform enter.

“Can I go home?” I whispered, desperate.

He ignored me. Without a word he took off his pants and he pulled me off of my steel bed. I yelped but didn’t do anything else to resist. He made me get on all fours and shortly after that he mounted me, plunging his cock inside my 13-year-old body without so much as a “hello”. He fucked me like that, doggy-style, for nearly ten minutes before filling up my belly with his sperm.

After that he left me alone, again, curled up and crying on the hard cement floor of my cell. I’m not sure how long I laid there before the next cop arrived. At least he spoke to me, though.

“Pussy or mouth?” he asked me, genuinely curious.

Every part of my body hurt but none more so than my cunt. Pleading at him with my eyes I whispered, “M-m-mouth…”

He nodded and gently touched my blond hair. I slowly got up onto my knees and took him into my mouth, licking his member with all the skill that Daniel had taught me. I was relieved that he didn’t want to fuck my throat. He wanted me to properly suck him instead. I really got into it, in fact, just before he came on my tongue, filling my mouth with his white good. I sucked his stuff down my throat with wetness between my tired and abused thighs. He left me alone like that and I almost wanted to masturbate but I couldn’t. I was in too much pain.

Days went by. During that time man after man visited me and my bruises slowly healed. Whereas at first it hurt to even breathe, eventually I could pace around my cell without wincing. The bruises across my small body healed and the streaks of black and blue disappeared from my skin. At least a week passed during which I serviced every man who showed up, some of whom helped me cum and some of whom just wanted to please themselves.

It was Captain Zuiker who appeared during the last day of my imprisonment. When I saw him at the entry to the cell I winced and backed my tiny body into the corner of the room. I was terrified of him, the memories of the brutal pain he’d put me through seared forever in my head.

“Relax, Becky,” he told me. “I’m here to bring you home.”

I didn’t believe him at first. He was the man who had so badly beaten me, the man who seemed to be in charge of his gang of racist cops. I cringed away from him and tears came to my eyes.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he said while taking a seat at the end of the steel bed I was sitting on. “I truly believe you’ve learned your lesson. You have, haven’t you?”

Deep down I wanted to tell him off. But I was too timid, too afraid. I said, “Yes, yes…”

He smiled and gently brushed my hair out of my face. He said, “Good. Then let’s get you home.

“However,” he said, his hand roughly gripping my right nipple, “you need to know that your dad’s going to be told that you were found in the house of a known gun-runner.”

“Please…” I started to say.

He slapped me. “That’s what I’ll tell him. If you try and deny it, or if you tell him about your time here in this cell, well, we won’t have any choice but to kill you. Understand?”

I whimpered and cried. Knowing my dad I was going to be in a world of trouble if he was told I’d been found in a gangbanger’s house. But if I didn’t go along with that story I’d be dead right now.

Zuiker and one of the other cops dragged me to an unmarked squad car. Inside it I found the outfit I’d originally worn over to Lee’s. I was told to dress, so I did.

My purse was there, too. I grasped my cell phone and tried to turn it on but the battery was dead.

The drive took forever but eventually we got to my house. I ran past my dad, up the stairs, and to my bedroom. I sobbed in my bed for nearly an hour while Zuiker and the other cop talked to my dad downstairs.

Memories of what had just happened to me rang through my head. Those memories made me horny and that pissed me off. I tried to think of something else. Anything else. But then I heard my father marching up the steps and toward my bedroom. I gulped and sighed and snuggled myself into my comforter. I shut my eyes and wished him away.

Unfortunately he did not leave. My real pain and agony was just about to begin.

 

CHAPTER 10

 

Having learned that their 13-year-old daughter had run away to a dangerous area of a major urban city to consort with gang members, most parents would have been relieved, if concerned, for her well-being upon her return. And while I’m sure that most parents would punish such a child in some way, they would also get her to a psychiatrist, maybe even into a mental hospital, to treat what was obviously disturbing behavior.

My dad wasn’t one of those parents and I knew it. That’s why I was so scared when he entered my bedroom.

He’d talked to Captain Zuiker downstairs for nearly an hour and I had no idea what he’d been told. Burying my face into my bedspread I shivered with fear as I listened to him empty the contents of my purse onto my bedroom floor. I didn’t see him do this because I was cuddled up away from him. He had yet to say a word but I could feel the anger radiating from his body. I also heard him shuffling through what had been in my purse: a couple of tampons, my cell phone, my change-purse. The fact that he hadn’t spoke yet scared me more than if he’d stormed into my room screaming.

Minutes passed in silence as I shivered against the wall. Finally I heard his hardened voice. It wasn’t raised but it was threatening and cold. “The Cleveland cops said you were found in a gangbanger’s house.”

I nodded into my covers. He would never believe the real truth and I was too smart to risk telling him it. Hell, the real truth of what I’d gone through would probably have only made him madder. He would never feel any sympathy for me for what the cops had done but he would have been furious that I’d over to a gang-member’s house willing and had planned on attending a party with him. In some ways the lies the cops had told him were probably better.

“They said the doctors say you’re alright,” he said, voice still hard and cold. “Said you aren’t knocked up, no long-term damage. You know how fucking lucky you are?”

My pubescent body curled itself up tighter under my blankets. I hadn’t seen any doctors. I had no idea what he was talking about but figured that Zuiker had given him a plausible story about what had happened to me.

“You were whoring for some gangbangers,” he said. A declaration. “Here we’ve been worried sick, your brothers and I, and you’re off fucking for the profit of some niggers in the ghetto!”

His voice was loud, now, and I started to weep. Captain Zuiker had really told him a doozie, but who would he believe? His own daughter or a man of the law? My father was the type of person who rooted for even the corrupt cops in TV movies. A former Army Reservist, he truly believed that all persons in uniform were honest and just. Since I didn’t know exactly what Zuiker had told him, and how much of this was in his head, I remained quiet and tried not to cry too loud.

He slapped me through my thick comforter, wrapped up around me, right on my still healing ass. He said, “You gonna deny it? Huh? See what I found in your purse? You think I don’t know what this is?”

They were my contraception pills, of course, that he held up for me as I peaked out from my covers. I groaned inwardly, suddenly wishing I’d hidden them in my closet with my other incriminating stuff before going to meet Lee. The circular container was inside a plastic potato chips bag, my lame attempt to keep it hidden. I hadn’t seen those pills in days and had forgotten they were there. My dad demanded of me, “You’re on the fucking pill! How long, tell me!”

“I don’t, I don’t… ,” I stammered.

“You’re a whore!” he yelled, apparently not interested in hearing my answer. He threw the small bag at the back of my head and I winced, pushing my face deep into my mattress and away from him again.

“If your mother knew about this, if she fucking knew! Going out into the ghetto, whoring yourself for nigger gangbangers, she’d die all over again,” he said, his voice full of seething anger. I cringed, sensing his coming blow. I’d never heard my dad sound so angry and worked up before but I knew his moods. When he grabbed me by my right arm and pulled me out from my bedspread I wasn’t surprised, only scared.

“Why!” he screamed into my face. “Why! Why!”

He shook my body from side to side, gripping me by my upper arms, and I saw tears streaming down his cheeks. I cried, too, but he responded by letting go of one arm to slap me. His large thick body engulfed my entire vision and that scared me even more than the racist police had. I was on my knees on my bed and he continued to shake me violently before sitting down on the mattress and tossing my small form across his legs.

“This what you need more of, huh?” he yelled as he roughly pulled at my loose jeans. The front button snapped off from the force and I yelped in pain as he pulled them down my legs. I wasn’t wearing panties because the cops hadn’t returned them to me seeing as they’d cut them off my body. I blushed and sobbed when he went still at the sight of my round naked ass.

“What kind of girl goes around not wearing underwear?” his harsh voice whispered. “What kind of a slut does that! Huh? Didn’t I raise you right? Tell me!”

“Daddy, please!” I begged. He was pushing me down by the small of my back, right into his lap. The pressure was so hard that even if I hadn’t still been recovering from the beating I’d received a week earlier it would have hurt terribly. I screamed for a moment then cried, “Stop, it hurts!”

“No, no stopping,” he said, whispering again. “I thought I disciplined you properly growing up. But I must have been too soft on you, way too soft. Not anymore!”

With that he started to spank me and my already bruised ass screamed with pain. I kicked my legs behind me and tried to squirm away from his punishing blows but it was no use. All the kicking accomplished was sending my untied shoes and dangling jeans to the floor and all the screaming accomplished was more and more blows of his thick hand onto my tiny behind. He kept yelling, almost nonsensically, but I barely heard him.

As had been happening for a while now during his spankings my body started to break through the pain and experience something different: arousal.

No! I told myself. I’d rather feel any amount of pain than any inch of pleasure by his hand. It was no use, though. My charged up and confused teenage body started to grow warm and tingly. I stopped kicking though his blows didn’t cease. I stopped struggling and just whimpered in his lap. I could feel a hard-on beneath my tummy and I just grunted, scared and worked up, through the rest of the spanking.

He finally finished and he sounded out of breath. The hand that had been punishing me now rested on my sore and throbbing ass. He was breathing heavily as he started to gently rub what he’d just been brutalizing. I whimpered some more, desperate not to betray my state of arousal by moaning or making any sound of pleasure. When his hand slid between my legs I braced my body, shocked that he would dare touch me there. I bit my lower lip as his hand made contact with my soft pussy from behind.

He jumped up and not a moment too soon. One more second of feeling my father’s calloused hand on my pussy and I would have moaned for sure. He tossed me with a violent force back onto my mattress and pointed a trembling finger at me, “What kind of a whore gets wet from a father’s spanking, huh? What kind of whore have I raised!”

I sobbed and scooted back away from him. He was literally crying now and I’d never seen my father cry. He said, “Your mother’s dying request … fuck, fuck, Becky! Her last words to me were to beg that I make sure you received a good Catholic upbringing. You know how much I sacrificed to make sure you could attend that fucking school? To make sure you grew up to be a proper lady? To fulfill your mom’s dying wish? Do you?”

“Daddy, I–,” I started to sob, but he still had no interest in listening.

“Shut up!” he yelled, suddenly jumping onto the bed and grabbing me so fast I didn’t have a chance to react. He threw me onto my back and gripped me around the throat. He started to squeeze, all the while sobbing, just as I placed my puny hands around his thick forearms.

“Just a whore, just a god-damned whore!” he sobbed. His hands squeezed harder and harder and everything started to fade. I was sure he was going to kill me. I’d always felt he had that kind of temper in him but even so I never thought for a moment my life would end like this. Despite everything I’d always believed my father loved me too much to do me any serious harm.

Just before losing consciousness he let go and collapsed on top of me. I inhaled as much air as I could but his chest was pressing against my face. I fought to turn it, managed to do so just enough, and breathed in some more. After a moment everything grew silent. My lungs filled with air and I managed to contain my sobs.

The sounds of his belt buckle unclasping broke the silence after a couple of minutes. That made me start to sob audibly again. He was deathly quiet, though. He maneuvered my legs apart then gripped me by my waist and pulled me forward. I knew now for sure what was coming and couldn’t keep myself from saying, “Daddy, please, don’t!”

“You be quiet,” he muttered. He wasn’t making eye contact with me. I closed my eyes and sobbed as I felt him adjust the position of my lower body a little more then felt him loom over me again. I peaked for a moment and saw only his chest, but then I felt something hard and thick start to press against the entrance to my vagina.

My body came to life, struggling with renewed energy and momentarily dislodging my father’s penis. Without a word he pushed down hard on my chest, his massive hand making contact with my breasts through my blouse, and place his hard member back on my vagina. With one hard and brutal motion of his hips I felt his giant cock force its way inside my wetness. Despite all the sex I’d had over the last week my vagina wasn’t ready for something so large and pain radiated from my sex. I cried and moaned as I felt his unrelenting cock press apart my insides. My dad, still silent as a ghost, didn’t pause for a moment to let me adjust to his girth.

“Daddy, Daddy, it hurts!” I sobbed. A moment later I screamed when he slapped forward inside of me the rest of his long cock. I could feel the head of his dick press against my cervix and I blubbered from the pain. A moment passed, then another, and he finally started to pull back, then slide forward, and again, and again…

As always the pain disappeared after a few strokes as my body responded to his fucking. My body didn’t care that this was my father, the man who had held me moments after my birth and raised me ever since. Instead it just grew warm all over and my sensitive nipples turned hard. My breathing grew labored and breathy and wanton. My toes curled down into my comforter and I raised my lower half up, clenching my buttocks together and reeling from the fullness, the completeness, I was experiencing. An orgasm was coming and for a moment I was lost to it, a slave to all its joy.

But even if my body didn’t care my mind sure did. A second before climaxing I came to my senses and willed down the orgasm, determined not to cum by my daddy’s rape. I forced myself to start crying again but even in my own ears it sounded fake and forced. The entirety of my situation hit me then and suddenly my forced sobs turned into real ones. My arms, which had been lifeless at my side, came up and pushed futilely at my dad’s ribcage. “Stop, no, please!” I begged over the sounds of his cock slapping in and out of my tight cunt.

He didn’t say a word. Not one word. He ignored my weak effort to push him away and never looked down at my pleading eyes. He just continued to rut me, his little girl, over and over again. The feeling of his balls slapping against my ass, the feeling of his cock filling and emptying me over and over, these became my entire world as I closed my eyes and embraced the darkness.

Out of nowhere my sensible mind found its escape. I found myself fantasizing about church. Father DeGrazia giving his Sunday sermon, me taking communion, confessing my sins. Memories of my first communion filled my thoughts next and I remembered how silly my dad had looked in a suit that day since he never wore them. I remembered my brothers complaining about having to go, how my dad had forced them to anyway, how we’d all gone out for brunch afterward…

My escape was interrupted when my dad finally made a sound, a loud grunt that rang between my ears. He was gripping my waist and holding his cock deep inside me and I could feel it pulse. Just then my body regained control over my consciousness and I made a little squeaking noise. A terrible orgasm was starting and there was no way I could escape it this time. My squeak got louder and louder until, just as my father erupted his sperm inside me, the same sperm that had created me, my squeak turned into a long, low, “Ohhhhhh!” sound as I finally exploded with an orgasm of my own.

Everything grew quiet after I finally cut off my long, soft moan. Other then my legs shuddering involuntarily for a moment, neither of us moved. I could feel my daddy’s gigantic cock slowly shrink inside of me and then he pulled it out with a slick, wet-sounding motion. His semen dribbled out of my cunt as he got up and turned his back to the bed. I pressed my legs together and curled up, still facing him, as he buckled up his jeans.

“Tomorrow morning we have to go to the police station for some paperwork,” he said in a soft voice. “Be up by seven.”

I watched him walk to my bedroom door, grip the doorknob, then pause. For a moment it looked like he wanted to say something else to me but instead he just sighed and left the room.

In a daze I pulled my comforter up around my half naked body and curled up again. I fell asleep with the lights on and without a thought inside my confused and traumatized head.

 

At the local police station the next morning my dad had to fill out some forms and I had to be interviewed by a detective and a social worker. The interview was shorter than I’d thought it would be. After being told I’d have to go through it I’d feared it would be a big ordeal. It wasn’t. That was a relief.

Mainly it was the social worker who did the talking, wanting to know what had motivated me to hang out with gang-members in the first place.

“I just … thought it’d be fun,” I lied, unable to make eye contact with the serious looking woman. “When they wouldn’t let me leave I got … scared.”

“Did they hurt you at all?” the woman pressed. “Becky, did any of those men … do anything to you? Other than the beatings we discussed?”

I shook my head and watched the serious woman give the bored detective a skeptical look. He said, “It’s all here in Cleveland’s report. Hospital examined her, found no serious injuries.”

“Rape kit?” the woman asked.

The man tapped the folder again. “Negative. The assholes probably only kept her ’cause they didn’t know what else to do with her. She said herself in her interview with CPD they only informed her she wasn’t going to be going home after she saw their stash of guns and drugs.”

The Cleveland cops had done an excellent job of falsifying their reports. The local detective didn’t doubt their authenticity for a second. It was sort of annoying but also sort of a relief.

“Very well,” the social worker sighed. “I’m going to recommend that your father get you into therapy, Becky. You may think you were just playing the normal teenage rebellion game but trust me, you got incredibly lucky. You could have been raped or murdered. These men you were with, they’re killers. You’re lucky they left you alone when they ran from that house. Understand?”

I nodded my head. My dad, who was sitting next to me, said, “What’s next, Detective?”

He’d been leaning back in his chair but now the detective pushed himself forward and drummed his hands on the top of his steel desk. “Nothing, unless the CPD ever catch the assholes. Cleveland might want to file either a false imprisonment or kidnapping charge against them, but I doubt that’ll ever happen. Chances of them being caught are slim since apparently this gang moves members between cities after raids or busts. They’re probably in Detroit by now, or Chicago.

“As for what’s on our end, though, Mr. Sullivan,” he went on, “this missing persons file is closed in about as happy a way as I ever see. Your daughter is damned lucky her file didn’t end like my last runaway’s did a year ago. Coast Guard found that kid’s body floating in Lake Erie a month after he disappeared.” He gave me a very serious stare after that and I shuddered.

The social worker gave my dad a business card after the interview and I almost wondered if he meant it when he promised the woman he’d get me into therapy. He brought me out to the parking lot and we spent an awkward drive home in complete silence.

I spent most of the rest of that day in my bedroom, except to shower and use the bathroom. I read magazines and mostly tried to avoid bursting into tears. That happened quite a bit, though, throughout the course of the day. One moment I’d be reading an article from one of my teen-girl magazines, the next I was crying uncontrollably.

As the evening came on I wondered if I was supposed to make dinner. Dressing in an over-sized sweater and jeans I nervously went downstairs and was surprised to find my dad cooking. He wasn’t a bad cook but he hated doing it. I stood dumbly at the entry to the kitchen for a moment before I saw Jason sitting at the kitchen table. He was the last person I wanted to see so I went back to my room.

Half an hour later there was a soft knock at my door. “Becky?” my father said. “Dinner’s ready.”

The racist cops had barely fed me during my imprisonment and the smells coming from downstairs were irresistible. Despite how awkward and nervous I was I couldn’t resist my starving stomach. I salivated at the meal. My father had cooked fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. My favorites.

Everyone but my oldest brother, Tyler, was there. He had to work late, I overheard my dad say.

As delicious as the meal was it was easily the most awkward family dinner of my life. Neither Jason nor Ron seemed to know what to talk about and my father avoided making eye contact with me at all costs. I barely said a word except to say, “You’re welcome,” after being thanked for passing the salt to Ron.

When dinner was finished I started to gather up the plates but my father surprised me again by saying, “No, no, go rest.”

I did as I was told without a word but I couldn’t stop wondering what was going through my father’s head. Did he feel guilty? Was he trying to appease me, afraid I’d tell someone about what he’d done? Or was he being a legitimate, caring father who knew his daughter had gone through a lot and needed rest? I just didn’t know.

The next day was a Wednesday and I returned to school after having missed seven whole days of classes. Again I was greeted with a feeling of awkwardness. Everyone avoided me even more than usual and my teachers treated me with kids’ gloves. Everyone had known I’d been reported missing a week earlier and I was sure that most of them now knew the official story of what had happened. My brothers had undoubtedly told their friends, some of whom were related to the girls I went to school with. They were all probably convinced that I had tried to be some inner-city gang’s whore and had failed and was lucky to be alive. If they only knew the half of it, I kept thinking…

By sixth hour I had a stack of make-up homework to do and about a dozen tests I had to study for. And that’s what I did for the next few days. Study, read, and write. In a way the massive amount of homework I had to do to make up for being gone was actually enjoyable. It was therapeutic to get lost in English papers and religious texts. Math and Science became fun challenges. Also, all that extra work gave me an excuse to stay in my bedroom and avoid my family.

I didn’t realize it at the time but in the following days and weeks my brain began to block out the memory of my rapes, both those of the racist cops and the one at my father’s hands. Only in my sleep did the memories return, but only briefly after awaking from nightmares.

Along with those awful memories, only in sleep did horniness continue to consume me. While awake my delicate psyche worked the magic of suppression and prevented me from growing aroused anymore. Sometimes, though, I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a terrible temptation to touch myself. Somehow I always managed to resist the urge, however, knowing somewhere in the back of my head that doing so would lead to horrible thoughts. Horrible memories. By the time Thanksgiving rolled around two weeks later I barely thought about anything arousing or anything painful at all anymore. My mind had packaged up both bundles of memories and tucked them up safely away. Incredibly, despite what he’d done, my relationship with my dad returned to normal.

Jason was another matter. He started leering at me again when I was in my school uniform within days of my return. I avoided him like the plague and to my immense relief he didn’t make good on his threats he’d made the day I’d gone to see Lee to have sex with me whenever he wanted. Still, the sly looks and knowing grins he gave me always made me blush. I continued wearing nothing but baggy shirts and sweaters whenever I wasn’t in uniform. I wanted desperately to hide my developing body from his lustful eyes.

That changed on Thanksgiving, though. For a family event like that I would be expected to dress nice. I ended up choosing one of my Sunday church dresses, a pretty red affair with a pattern of yellow flowers on it. It reached down to just above my knees, was sleeveless, and flowed loosely around my body everywhere except my waist. There it hugged me tightly, accentuating my developing shape, and when I looked at my reflection I felt pretty for the first time in ages. That made me feel good and I forgot all about Jason. I ended up wearing my hair up and back with some strategic hairs pulled out to fall loosely around my ears and jawline. Next I dusted off my rarely used makeup kit and used some eyeliner, dark pink lipstick, and just a touch a rouge. I even put on some earrings that were only for special occasions. Those had belonged to my mother. When I was finished I really looked young, fresh, and sexy, I thought.

But not slutty. I wouldn’t have dared dressing like a tramp to my grandfather’s house. Instead I looked like beautiful little lady, I thought. All my bruises were fully healed and I looked as young, fresh, and healthy as ever. I hadn’t felt so good in a long time as I stared at my reflection, feeling girly and innocent and carefree.

Thanksgiving at my grandfather’s, my dad’s father and my sole-remaining grandparent, was always a pretty large affair. Aunts and uncles, cousins, and in-laws all gathered at the old man’s museum-like cabin on the lake. We ate a large, traditional dinner and I found myself having a good time. No one asked anything about my ordeal and I never brought it up or even thought about it. I spent most of my time with a cousin who was a year older than me and loved to gossip about boys at her school. We joked and played cards with other relatives and the day went by in a flash.

Back at home the next day everything felt truly back to normal. It was as though the annual trip to Grandpa’s had given my brain enough strength to officially wipe out all the terrible memories it held. I even wore another pretty outfit, too: a mid-thigh length light-green skirt with a matching strapless top. It had the potential to look sexy but had more of a “modern teenage girl” aura to it, something stylish and fitting.

In the early afternoon my brothers went out to see some new comic book movie and I went downstairs to the basement to finish some laundry. I’d decided I liked the dress I’d worn the day before so much that I wanted it clean and ready again for church the upcoming Sunday. I took it out of the dryer then walked over to the ironing board. I hummed a happy, tuneless melody as I waited for the iron to heat up. I was so lost in my own little world that I didn’t hear my father approach from the stairs.

“Oh, you’re ironing?” he asked.

I jumped, startled by the sound of his voice. I looked over my shoulder at him and saw that he was holding a wrinkled men’s dress shirt. Just then I remembered he was going to a funeral the following day. None of the rest of us had to go because we didn’t know the guy, an old Reservist buddy of my dad’s who’d been killed in some kind of boating accident. “Sorry, yeah, I’m just waiting for the iron to heat up,” I said. Remembering that he was clueless about such things I added, “If you want, toss the shirt over there and I’ll do it for you after I finish my dress.”

He nodded and took a step toward me. He got close enough to look over my shoulder and see the dress laying out on the board. “Ah. The one you wore yesterday, right?”

“Yeah,” I smiled at him. I looked back at the iron and placed the back of my hand to it. Still needed a little more time, I thought. I looked back at my dress and drummed my fingers on the ironing board.

Nervousness started to settle in when I realized my dad was still standing uncomfortably close behind me. He’d already dropped his shirt where I’d told him to so why hadn’t he left? To break the sudden nervous tension I said, “For the funeral, right? The shirt?”

Instead of answering me he got even closer. I felt his hand on my developing right hip just as he whispered, “You looked really pretty in that dress yesterday, hon.”

At first I froze. Literally my whole body just turned into a statue. I felt his hand slide down the length of my skirt, then back up under it against my cool soft thigh. His touch was delicate and sensual, like a lover’s, and it sent goosebumps across my skin. He was reaching around to my crotch before I finally snapped out of my paralyzing fright.

“Daddy!” I squealed, pushing away his hand. “Stop!” I turned around with the motion of my hand and faced him. I started to back away to the end of the ironing board, fear radiating throughout my young body.

His reaction truly surprised me. At first the expression on his face was one of confusion, the look of a spurned lover who didn’t understand why he was being rejected. Then he eyed my tight teen body up and down and his expression changed into one of anger. He hissed, “Don’t act like this, we both know what you are.”

“Daddy!” I whined, tears now forming in my eyes. He grabbed me by my waist and the sudden force pushed me back into the ironing board. I heard the iron clatter to the ground as he roughly pulled up on my tight, sleeveless top. I struggled against him but he pushed me back into the board which held firm, now, against the basement wall. The metal board dug painfully into my back as he yanked the shirt up over my head. I pushed against him in a blind panic, horrified that he would do this. Flashbacks to the first rape exploded in my head. They were memories I had buried deep and their sudden return shocked me. I shrieked, wailed, and pushed at him with all my might. He ignored my feeble attempts to escape and gripped both my wrists in one hand and snapped my arms up above my head to finish pulling off the shirt.

Somehow in the confusion of all this I fell, spun, and dropped to my knees, now topless. I hadn’t bothered wearing a bra since I hadn’t planned on going out and my brothers would be gone most of the day. Now I used one arm to cover my bare breasts and the other to help me crawl away from my dad, weeping as I did.

I didn’t make it far. He grabbed me around my waist and pulled roughly at my skirt. At first it didn’t budge but then he found the zipper on the back and pulled it down and the skirt came off along with my panties. I blubbered, “Stop it, leave me alone! Leave me alone, please!”

He pulled me up from the floor and spun me around to face him. He looked out of control. There was a wild rage and lust in his eyes as he violently tore my arm away from my tits. He stared at them then cupped one in his free hand. He hadn’t touched me there since I was in kindergarten and he was still giving me baths. The thought made me blubber with shame.

His tone of voice was one of utter contempt when he said, “You try to dress like a pretty little lady but we both know you’re a fucking whore! You can’t tell me you didn’t like it last time and you know you want it again. Come ‘ere.”

He dragged my sobbing, trembling body over to a saw-horse that had been set up years before for God knew what purpose. It came up to just around my waist and he roughly bent me over it and used his feet to kick mine apart as he held my hands together behind my back with one hand. With the other, I realized in horror, he was unzipping his pants.

Memories of the last time he’d raped me returned again in a horrible flash. They seared into my head in a way that suggested they would never leave again, not after this. Struggle and plead as I might, though, my dad wasn’t going to listen. It was just like the last time: he was completely quiet as he pressed the head of his cock against my cunt. I was dry but he didn’t let that stop him. I felt him spit down on me, down at the crack of my ass. Then his cock was there and for a terrifying moment I wondered which hole he planned on drilling. There was no sense of relief, though, when he returned his now spit-slick monster against my pussy.

The wooden saw-horse dug painfully into my waist as he pushed me harder down against it. That was nothing compared to the pain of his cock pressing into me, though. Along with the rest of my body my vagina had returned to its natural, healthy self in the weeks since my imprisonment. I was tight and completely dry and when the head of his cock crushed into my hole I screamed at the top of my lungs.

I returned to whimpering just as my body began to respond. I gave myself over to it completely this time, too exhausted and mentally drained to fight my carnal urges. My pussy got wet with its natural lubricant and its musky aroma filled the air. I stopped struggling and when my father realized this he let go of my hands and gripped my waist instead, pulling me up higher. I was dangling over the saw-horse and I pressed my hands onto the hard concrete floor for support. I was practically upside down as my father fucked his thing at a downward angle into me. My heavy breathing soon turned into moans and gasps but I was able to repress my urge to really cry with pleasure. Soon my body, which hadn’t climaxed since my last time with my daddy, rippled through an orgasm that made me feel light-headed and stoned.

He continued to pummel me at that awkward angle for nearly five minutes. At that point he got sick of the position and pulled me into the air and sat me on the floor. “All fours,” he said, his eyes wide and crazy.

I nodded meekly and followed his command. He knelt behind me and really let my poor 13-year-old pussy have it doggy style. I moaned and sobbed though another tremendous orgasm, then another as my daddy reached under me and cupped my hanging little tits. He squeezed them and kneaded them in a rough but enjoyable manner. He seemed to sense the effect this had on me, being groped by my daddy, and he continued to do it throughout the rest of the fucking. Finally he slapped his cock into me one last time and groaned.

His thick, warm cum flooded into me and that gave me one last bite-sized orgasm.

He panted for a moment then pulled out of me. He stood up and said, “Don’t forget about the shirt.” Then he left.

 

I wish I could say that after that second assault my dad behaved the same way he had after the first, but he didn’t. If there had been an internal struggle within him over whether I was his little girl or his little whore his mind was now firmly convinced of the latter.

I found this out two days after the incident in the basement. I’d just returned home from church and went directly to my bedroom where I promptly fell into bed and started sobbing. I’d gotten so close to confessing everything to Father DeGrazia and the fact that I hadn’t, that I couldn’t, was tearing me up inside.

My father came into my bedroom and I froze. He said, “Get down on the floor, on your knees.”

His tone of voice suggested he would tolerate no resistance but I had to try. “Daddy, please no… ,” I sobbed.

“I said now, girl!” he yelled. He marched to the bed and yanked me off it, throwing me to the floor.

Trembling and crying I nevertheless got on my knees. I was wearing a very pretty, girlish white church dress, one of the most innocent and non-sexy I owned. I hadn’t wanted him to see me in anything remotely alluring that morning when I left for church but apparently it hadn’t mattered.

He stood in front of me and pushed down his jeans. His cock was semi-erect and it was the first time I had a chance to get a really good look at it. The only one that could possibly be bigger, I thought, was Lee’s. It was easily longer than a foot and as thick as a sausage. “Touch it,” he ordered me.

With a pathetic whimper I reached out my trembling hand and gripped the cock like I’d been told. Almost instantly it began to harden the rest of the way and suddenly I couldn’t fit my hand around it.

“Stroke it. You do know how to give a hand-job, don’t you?” he said with disgust.

There was no point in lying since he wouldn’t believe me anyway. My head nodded up and down as my hand began to skillfully caress his massive organ. I lightly ran my hand around the sensitive head of his cock then back down its length, over and over again the way I knew men liked.

He laughed. “Look at you in your pretty Sunday dress, stroking your daddy’s cock,” he said. “To all the world a perfect, innocent little girl but we know the truth, don’t we?”

His words stung so I tried to ignore them but apparently he wanted to hear me answer. He gripped me by my hair and yanked my head back and demanded, “Don’t we!”

“Y-yes, we both know… ,” I managed to whimper.

“And what do we know?” he asked, his voice taunting.

“I’m a whore,” I said.

He grunted his approval and allowed me to continue jerking him. In a daze of confusion and devastation I did just that, pumping his cock with skill long since mastered by my former master, Daniel. My butt was resting on my heels and I tried to keep my eyes away from what I was doing but whenever I looked away he would say, “Eyes!” and I knew he meant to look back at his cock. After a few minutes he gripped my wrist and said, “Stop. Get off your ass and open your mouth, wide.”

I followed his instructions, sitting up fully on my knees instead of resting on my haunches so that I came up just high enough for my mouth to be level with his cock. He pushed the large knob of his penis’ head past my teeth and for a moment I was terrified he would try to get it all the way down my throat. Instead he just left the head in my mouth, resting heavily on my tongue. It was the first time I’d tasted his member and that made me shudder. Internally I groaned when I realized I was getting warm and wet between my legs.

He started pumping his cock himself until he came. I gagged and tried to swallow the huge, hot load but a lot of it dribbled down my chin and dripped onto my dress.

After finishing he pulled his cock out and my mouth instantly closed and I continued to swallow. Then I used my tongue to clean my lips. He seemed amused if not a little impressed by this instinctive habit Daniel had trained into me. He said, “Good girl.”

 

In the weeks leading up to Christmas I learned when to sense when an attack from my dad was coming. I paid careful attention to what my brothers said about their daily and weekend plans, knowing that the chance of him assaulting me increased by about a thousand percent when we were alone in the house together. During those times I tried to get permission to go out and sometimes he even let me. Other times he’d only let me after fucking me first. When that happened I usually just stayed home. It’s not like I had friends to go hang out with or had anything to do, after all.

Having one of my brothers, or even all of them, in the house with us was no guarantee he wouldn’t attack me, either. Some nights during dinner he would leer at me and cop secret feels of my budding body whenever no one was looking. On those evenings I knew he’d visit me at night and fuck me in my bed, even though my brothers were in the house.

The absolute worst thing about the assaults was that the majority of the time I couldn’t keep from cumming. Sometimes I could escape into some happy memory and basically ignore the whole thing. Most of the time, though, he fucked me into orgasms like no man ever had before and that made me feel like shit. It made me feel that I really was a whore. That I was cheap, worthless for anything except what was between my legs. The orgasms I received from his rapes proved his point that I was made just for sex. My own father thought so, after all, and if he thought that then who wouldn’t?

Christmas break started about a month after Thanksgiving and I was dreading it. Two whole weeks off of school, my father off of work. He’d made plans to bring my brothers ice-fishing but that wasn’t until the last weekend of the break. At least it gave me something to look forward to, though: a whole weekend without my dad fucking me.

On Christmas morning my dad surprised me by waking me up before the sun even rose, but not for sex like I first thought. Instead he wanted to give me a few gifts he didn’t want my brothers to know about. Confused, I opened up the first box and found an incredibly slutty outfit inside. He grinned at me and said, “Figured I’d give you some proper clothes to wear.”

With a sigh I opened up box after box of one slutty outfit after another. They included, among other things, a garter belt and stockings; tight provocative halters; stiletto shoes; even a dog collar that reminded me of the one Daniel used to make me wear.

“Your present to me,” he whispered after I opened the last gift, “you can give later. These gifts will help you wrap it.” He gripped me between my legs and dug my flannel pajama bottoms into my pussy and started to rub me there. “But you can start by shaving your pussy this morning. I don’t like the fuzz that’s growing in.”

Of course, he didn’t realize that the only reason my pussy had been bald the first time he’d fucked me was because Daniel had used to make me shave, too. With a sigh I complied with his request that morning in the shower and scraped away the light, pubescent hairs until I was as bald and smooth as a baby.

Later that day, after opening presents and going over to our grandpa’s house for Christmas dinner, my brother Tyler left to go visit his girlfriend at her family’s house for a couple of days and Jason took Ron to see the latest Hollywood blockbuster. As soon as they were out the door my dad ordered me to go upstairs and put on one of the outfits. He said I could choose which one but that it better have “easy access”. I doubted there was one thing he’d purchased me that didn’t fit the bill but I nodded and went to my room just the same.

I ended up laying out all of the outfits on my bed and decided on the garter belt and black lace stockings. They came up to mid-thigh and after pulling them on I looked at myself in the mirror and had to admit I looked very sexy just like that. My dad would want me to wear more, though, so he could “unwrap” his gift. I found a sheer translucent yellow top that was so tight I wondered if my dad had just picked a bad size or had intentionally wanted it small. The matching micro-skirt was just as tight and when I looked at myself in the mirror I shuddered.

Getting lost in the dressing process I next put on the black stilettos which had heels so high I almost stood at 5’5″ now. After that I sat down at my makeup table and put on some red lipstick and lip-gloss to make it shine. I brushed my hair out and then put it up in the same style it’d been in on Thanksgiving and finalized my ensemble with the dog collar and some black loop earrings.

I stood in front of my mirror posing and realized I was really enjoying myself. I did look damned sexy in a whorish way, I thought. You could see my little pink nipples through the tight top that pressed my b-cup breasts together and the black garter belt could also be seen through the short skirt. Suddenly, though, I caught myself. Here I was, smiling and posing in front of a mirror dressed like a prostitute. The man I was doing this for was my father and he was downstairs right now, waiting to fuck me. Could it truly be that I was looking forward to it? Had my warped, depraved mind finally sunk that low?

Choking back some tears I took a deep breath and decided not to think about it. Might as well get it over with, I figured, and give my daddy his gift.

When I got downstairs I walked carefully on my tall stilettos into the kitchen. My dad was sitting at the dinner table nursing a beer and when he saw me he smiled like a jackal. “Come over here,” he said, turning his chair away from the table to face me, “let me look at you.”

I walked softly past the fridge and counter until I was standing just a few feet in front of him. He made a circling motion with his finger and I turned, slowly, posing with butterflies in my stomach for my daddy. This was unlike any of my other times with him before. Usually when he assaulted me it was sudden, but now he was taking his time. After posing for him like that for a minute or so he told me to sit on his lap and I did.

“My good little whore,” he said, nibbling the nape of my neck and gently squeezing my right breast. “This is how you should always dress. It’s a terrible lie when sluts like you hide their bodies behind cute and innocent clothes, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I breathed. The material of the translucent top was increasing the pleasure of his groping hand on my breast and I was already getting warm and wet. Also, the way he so lovingly nibbled on my neck was giving me chills. He’d never treated me like this before, had never been anything but rough and violent with me. The sudden change was as arousing as it was confusing.

“You know what we’re going to do?” he whispered in my ear. “Today I’m going to fuck that sweet little ass of yours. You ever been fucked in the shitter before, girl?”

My eyes widened and I gulped. “N-no, Daddy, please!” I begged. “Fuck me in the pussy, okay? I’ll fuck you real good, I promise!”

He chuckled. “I knew you had to be a virgin somewhere,” he said, ignoring my pleas. “I’ve been waiting for a special occasion to pop your anal cherry and Christmas seems appropriate. Get up.”

He pushed me off his lap and I stumbled onto my feet, nearly falling over for a moment in those shoes. Trying one more time I pleaded, “Daddy, I’m just too small! Your cock, it’ll … it’ll tear me up!”

“Don’t act like I don’t know what I’m doing,” he snapped at me. “Now lose the top and skirt. Leave everything else.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I did as I was told. Memories of the time Daniel had almost used a dildo on my ass flashed into my brain and that thing had been nothing compared to the size of my father’s cock. I noticed him undressing too, all the way for the first time ever, and when he was fully naked I couldn’t believe how large and scary he was. Somehow being naked made his hard 40-something body look all the more intimidating. Without a word he picked me up and sat me on the table and smiled at my look of confusion.

 

“That’s right, we’re going to do it right here, right where you eat your dinner,” he said. I saw him pick up a small bottle of clear liquid as he pushed me until I was laying on my back, my ass just barely hanging over the table ledge. “Every night from now until kingdom come you’ll remember this while serving your family their dinner.”

I whimpered as he grabbed my thighs and pushed them back until my knees almost touched my breasts. He told me to hold my legs back like that and I did, gripping myself under my knees even as I choked back the sobs I knew would anger him. He always fucked me harder when I resisted or cried too much and that’s the last thing I needed if he was really going to put his massive cock into my tiny asshole.

He dripped a cool, sticky liquid all over my tight sphincter and started by rubbing it in with his fingers. “Now, you’re gonna want to relax,” he said, echoing the same lesson Daniel had given me about anal sex. “More you resist, more it’s gonna hurt.”

That’s when he started to press a finger inside my ass and I couldn’t stop myself from crying from the intrusion. He ignored it, though, and continued to press it in me in a circular motion, trying to stretch out my tight anal tunnel. I really started to blubber when he added a second finger, then a third. He added more lubricant after that and started to really ram his fingers into my ass, pushing them deep and making me cry from the pain. My arms shook from the effort of holding my legs back as I writhed upon the table but my dad didn’t care one bit.

“No fucking way!”

The sound of Jason’s voice made both me and my dad freeze. I looked over to the living room entrance and saw both him and Ron standing there. Jason’s expression was one of perverted glee while sweet Ron’s was one of confusion and horror.

For a long moment everything was silent as the four of us stared at each other. I looked at my dad and his expression was calculating. I looked back at my brothers and neither looked like they knew what to do. Mortified that my favorite older brother, Ron, would see me like this made me break the silence first when I started to sob.

“What happened to the movie?” my dad asked them as casually as if he were reading the newspaper instead of jamming three fingers into their sister’s ass.

“It was sold out,” Jason said, excited. “Holy shit, dad, are you fucking her, too?”

I groaned as my dad snapped his head back in my direction. “You fucking your brothers?” he asked, anger simmering in his voice.

“I, n-no, I… ,” I whimpered.

“She’s lying!” Jason protested, stepping forward into the kitchen. “I fucked her the day she went missing!”

My dad looked back at me. “That true?” he asked, pressing his fingers into my ass a bit, suggesting that if I lied he was really going to hurt me.

I couldn’t speak. Instead I nodded.

He pressed a little harder. “Not Tyler or Ron?”

“N-no!” I cried in pain.

He nodded, apparently satisfied I was telling the truth. To Jason he said, “Well, all that means is you knew she was a whore before I did. Don’t change nothing. Wanna learn how to fuck a whore in the ass?”

“Fuck yeah!” he cried. He strode across the room and my body blushed a deeper shade of red as stood next to my dad and stared down at my upturned ass with our father’s fingers stuffed inside it.

“Ron,” my dad said in a calm, commanding voice, “get over here and hold your sister’s arms back for me.”

At first he didn’t move. I pleaded at him with my eyes, maybe hoping he could somehow stop all this, but he just stood there opening and closing his mouth, not knowing what to say. He was always the shyest, kindest of my brothers and I couldn’t believe he would participate in this.

“Ron!” our dad snapped. “Right now!”

The thing I had forgotten was that Ron was also the brother who most idolized our dad. He immediately came over after being ordered again and stood facing Jason and our father on the other side of the table. He looked down into my pleading eyes then he just stared at my tits. I saw him lick his lips, something he always did when he was nervous or scared, and then he reached out and grabbed my wrists and pulled my arms back until he was pinning them to the table surface. My legs fell forward for only a moment before Jason grabbed one to hold back and my father used his free hand on the other.

“Thing is, when you fuck an ass, you gotta go slow,” my dad told Jason like a father teaching his son how to shave. “You gotta let the whore get used to it, adjust to it, or you can end up with a pretty big mess. After she adjusts, that’s when you can fuck her proper.”

I whimpered as our dad continued the lesson, explaining how using the fingers first was a good way to get a whore’s ass ready. I stared up at Ron but he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. He just stared at my tits, a serious expression on his face, occasionally licking his lips. His reaction broke my heart and made me feel betrayed somehow. He was the good brother, the one I was supposed to always love, and here he was helping my dad rape my ass.

Or was it rape? I wasn’t even sure anymore. I had come willingly down to the kitchen for sex. Did the fact that I hadn’t known it would be anal sex change anything? Was there a part of me that wanted this? Was I really just whore?

“Okay, now she’s ready,” my father said. I closed my eyes as he placed the head of his cock at my now dripping wet and gaping asshole. “Watch this, boys.”

“Holy shit, no way, dad,” Jason said. “You’re too fucking big! Jesus Christ!”

My dad pressed his cock forward, very slowly, and said, “You’d be surprised. Just remember: always go slow when you start.”

My body couldn’t help but resist his cock at first. The pain was just too much and I kept trying to scoot my body back from it but my dad and brothers held me firmly in place. I cried and moaned and then, suddenly, my ass sucked him in.

That’s what it felt like, at least. One moment my sphincter fought and resisted and then it just gave up and my dad pushed in a good few inches of his cock. I screamed at the top of my lungs from the excruciating pain. I felt like I was being torn apart but my dad just kept on steadily, slowly, pressing forward. When the air was out of my lungs my screaming stopped and I returned to blubbering and whimpering. Finally I could only squeak, the pain was so incredible, the situation so depraved. My carnal, slutty brain just couldn’t process anything anymore, it was all too much.

“That’s fucking crazy,” Jason said in awe after our dad was all the way inside me. “You gotta be touching her lungs!”

Our dad chuckled. “Nah, but deep enough as it makes no difference, that’s for sure. Alright, stand back a bit. This is when it really gets fun. Nothing like a loosened up teenage ass…”

Jason let go of the leg he’d been holding and my dad took it, leered down at me, and said, “Ready to get ass fucked, whore?”

Again all I could do was squeak. But when he pulled out, slowly, I groaned from the relief and confusing pleasure. Then he rammed it back in, harder, and I cried out a moan. After that he started to really fuck me and I grunted and moaned not even realizing that I was revealing the perverted pleasure I was experiencing.

“She’s liking it, Dad!” Jason said. “Look, Ron, look at that expression! She likes it!”

“Course … she … likes … it,” our dad grunted as he rammed his cock in and out of my ass. “She’s … about … to … cum…”

How he could know that I’ll never understand, but he was right. I was on the verge of an orgasm that felt dirtier and more depraved than any I’d ever had. When my dad said, “Rub … her … clit … see … what … happens…” I moaned my approval. My eyes were shut but I knew it was Jason’s hand on my rock-hard clit and the second he touched me there I just exploded with relief. He continued to rub me, using my natural juices to help extend my humiliating orgasm in front of my family, and I just moaned and panted all the way through it.

“Wow,” I heard Ron breathe in wonderment after I’d finally finished my climax. The sound of him marvelling at my incredible orgasm made me start whimpering all over again. I couldn’t believe I could behave like such a depraved slut in front of him.

“Alright, boys,” our dad said after what felt like forever, “I’m gonna cum on her belly so we can avoid sloppy seconds.”

“Sweet!” Jason said while I groaned in dismay. Were they all going to fuck my ass?

When he pulled his cock out of me the sudden feeling of emptiness made me shudder and spasm upon the dinner table. I heard our dad grunting then felt his cum spew across my flat little tummy and soft, pretty breasts. He’d finally let go of my legs and they just dropped and dangled over the side of the table, lifeless and rubbery. I finally opened my eyes and saw Ron staring at the mess our dad had made, the cum all over my body, and his expression had changed into one of lust. I pleaded at him again with my eyes, looking for sympathy, but though he made eye contact with me, now, there was no compassion or brotherly affection in his eyes. Tears welled up in mine as I realized that he thought of me as a whore now, too.

“Alright,” our dad said after catching his breath. “Jason, you already fucked her once so Ron, you get dibs. Get on over here.”

He didn’t hesitate. He let go of my wrists and in a panic I began to sit up but then Jason was there, holding me down the same way Ron had. He leered down into my eyes with a smug grin on his face.

“Which do you want, her pussy or ass?” our dad asked my youngest older brother.

Again, the just turned 15-year-old didn’t hesitate. “Pussy,” he breathed. I remembered his birthday a few days before and trembled at the memory of putting the candles in his cake. I’d made a smiley face out of them.

“You sure?” our dad said. “You ever fucked an ass? It’s something else, trust me, and your baby sister’s got one of the nicest I ever had.”

“I,” he started, his voice trailing off. After gulping he tried to continue, “I just … you know…”

“He’s a virgin, Dad,” Jason said, matter-of-factly. “He’s never had pussy, either.”

“That so?” our dad asked, sounding surprised. He laughed. “You hear that, Becky? You’re about to take your brother’s virginity. Go on, boy, you know what to do, right?”

I sobbed soundlessly as Ron told our dad that he did. I closed my eyes again as I felt him press his cock against my already wet pussy. It took him a moment to find my hole but then he was sliding his decent sized cock inside of me. It’d been a few days since our dad had fucked me so I was about as tight as I could get. The feeling of him, my beloved brother Ron, stretching me out made me cry. Jason had to hold me down a bit for forcefully as I squirmed upon our family’s kitchen table. The virgin cock of my favorite brother was the last thing I wanted to endure. My mind started to scatter and I grunted out loud at its intrusion into my soft, moist flesh.

“I’ll tell you what, Becky,” my dad said before Ron was even a third of the way inside my resisting young cunt, “since your brother here is a virgin, he ain’t going to last long.” Looking back at my brother he added, “No shame in that, boy, it’s your first time and she’s got a hot little pussy. You won’t find much tighter, believe me.” He glared back down into my eyes and continued, “Anyway, whore, if you can resist having an orgasm before he cums you can sleep in your bed tonight. But if your slutty little body gets turned on enough at the thought of popping your big brother’s cherry, well, in that case you’ll spend the night outside with the dogs.”

My eyes snapped open in shock. Was he serious? “Daddy!” I pleaded. I tried to pull away from Jason’s grasp but he held my arms down.

After subduing my meager attempts to escape, Jason laughed. “That’s funny, Dad,” he said. I knew what was coming next and I looked at Jason with fear in my eyes. He just grinned back at me with a pitiless look in his eyes.

“The reason she let me fuck her that one time was ’cause I caught her out in the kennel having Marshall eat out her cunnie.”

Again there was quiet. Once again I was the one who broke the silence by sobbing.

“You,” my father started, his voice trailing off in surprise. Ron stopped moving his cock deeper into my tight pussy and he stared at the guilty look of shame on my face. Both him and our dad could easily read the truth there as I closed my eyes and turned my head away in humiliation.

“God-damned whore,” my father seethed, his voice rising. He yelled, “God-damned fucking whore!”

Suddenly he grabbed my tits by their small pink nipples and started to twist them. This new torture gave my weak body a new burst of energy as adrenaline flowed through my veins. Jason had to use all his strength this time to keep my bucking, screaming body pinned down on the table, but he managed. Our dad continued to violently twist and pull on my sore nipples. Tears and saliva stained my cute face which was now contoured in a mask of agony. I was unable to make out what he was saying but my father was definitely hurling insults at me. And then, with my mind caught up in a cacophony of pain and pleasures and humiliations and shames, I suddenly became aware of a growing level of depraved arousal emanating from between my legs.

My screaming stopped, replaced by squeaks and gasps and I heard Jason say with excitement that I was getting ready to cum again.

“Fucking dog whore!” my dad added. “You like this, huh? Want me to twist your nips right off? I oughta, I really oughta! God-damned dog-whore! Fuck you, fuck you!”

That sent me over the top. My father, calling me a dog whore, and the realization that at least part of my relationship with the dogs was now out in the open, made me climax. It was just all so degrading, so sinful and shameless that my twisted little body couldn’t resist. I screamed out, “Oh God, oh Gooooooooooooooood!” and my body bucked and rutted itself into Ron’s thrusting cock as I experienced my second orgasm of the night.

“Oh, shit, I’m going to cum!” Ron panted, sounding almost panicked. My body went limp and I heard Jason tell our brother to just cum inside me and he did, filling me, his little sister, with his sperm. I just laid there, catching my breath, lifeless and weak and about as self aware, now, as a drunken wino.

My father was no longer twisting my nipples. When he let go of them I blubbered and sighed. Ron pulled out of me and Jason let go of my arms. I made no move to get up or even move my limbs from their place. I heard our dad say, still sounding furious, “Jason, fuck the little dog whore’s ass. Ron, hold her down for your brother. I’ll be right back.”

I didn’t even think to wonder where my dad was going or what he was doing. Nor did I really process the fact that Jason was pushing my legs back again and then placing his cock at my still lubed up ass. He had little trouble getting his cock inside my anus since I was still so loose from our daddy’s monster cock. It took a good five or six minutes of my brother fucking me there before I started to grunt from the sensation of his cock inside me. I opened my eyes and realized Ron and Jason were carrying on a conversation, sharing each other’s thoughts on what it was like to fuck me. They commented on my tits and the rest of my developing body. They talked about what a whore I was. They commented on how slutty I would end up being after I grew up. It was all very demeaning but I was well beyond any level of debasement.

So I thought.

Our dad returned just as Jason was spurting his goo across my tummy and my tits, adding his spunk to our dad’s. When he was done he said, “You were right, Dad. It’s a hell of a thing, fucking her ass. Ron, you really gotta try it.” He pulled his dick out of me and I groaned.

“Maybe later,” our dad interrupted. He sounded pissed off. “Get her on the floor and take off her shoes and the garter belt.”

Jason lifted me by my legs and Ron grabbed me by my shoulders. They laid me on my back on the cool linoleum floor and I just blinked up at them in confusion. What was going on? My dad was speaking softly to them and I heard Jason laughing. The next thing I knew he was rolling me onto my belly and I whimpered in pain as my sore nipples pressed into the floor. I didn’t resist or move in any way, though. There simply was no energy in me for any of that.

Ron gripped my left ankle and bent it backward until the heel of my foot was pressing against the bottom of my left ass cheek. He held my food there with one hand while his other gently rubbed my naked ass. I shuddered from his touch even as my sore and thoroughly fucked asshole flexed almost invitingly when his fingers tickled over it.

My dad knelt next to me a moment later and whispered in my ear, “You use my dogs to get off? Use my dogs like they’re your personal little pussy lickers?” He brushed a strand of hair out of my open but practically unseeing eye and continued in a harsh tone of voice, “Then we’ll just fix it so you can be a proper little bitch dog for them.”

He started wrapping a length of twine around my leg and ankle after that, tying my ankle more tightly in place each time he wrapped the twine around. The coarse rope dug harshly into my skin and I whimpered, unsure exactly of what this meant. When he tied it off Ron let go of my left foot, which he’d still been holding in place for our dad, and I found myself trying to kick my leg back. It wouldn’t budge. I groaned with humiliation as Ron pulled my right foot in the same way and our dad tied that back, too, wrapping the twine around my thigh and ankle several times and tying it off in what was no doubt an expert knot.

“Gimmie the tape,” my dad said.

Jason reached over and handed our dad a roll of duct tape and I heard the loud sound of him ripping off a long length of it from the roll a second later. He grabbed my left hand and told me in no uncertain terms, “Make a fist, whore.”

Sobbing again I reluctantly did as he said. My tiny left hand curled up into a little fist and a moment later my dad was wrapping the duct tape around it. When he finished he ripped off another length of tape and added it to the first, covering my entire fist with the tape before proceeding to do the same thing with my right hand. When he was finished both of my hands were bound so tight I couldn’t flex them at all.

“Now get up,” he said after standing himself.

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. I was still feeling dead and empty inside from being fucked on the table by my dad and brothers. My devastated teenage psyche was still trying to process everything I’d just been subjected to and that effort rendered me immobile. My dad must have somehow realized this because rather than yell at me or hit me or anything I heard say something to one of my brothers. Moments went by in blissful aloneness as I whimpered softly to myself on the linoleum floor, my hands bound in duct tape and my legs tied back in a forever bent position with twine. In my head I was merely uncomfortable from bending on the kneeler in the confessional booth at church, my hands pressed together in prayer. My consciousness was floating away and I felt myself beginning to fall asleep, all the horrors and the pains of the last hour or so turning into a distant memory.

Before drifting off I could barely hear my dad say to my brothers, ” … night’s still young. If we let it sit the ice will melt and it’ll work better. Come on, it’s just after midnight so they’ll be selling booze again. Let’s let the bitch whore sleep a few and go get ourselves a case of beer.”

Ron asked something but I couldn’t make out the words. My father’s response was loud and clear, though. He said, “Sure, as many as you want. You’ve earned them. You fucked the little whore like a man.”

In my exhausted brain his words turned into one of Father DeGrazia’s sermons, though, and I passed out thinking of the Church.

 

The water was frigid and cold as it splashed across my face and body. It woke me with a terrible start, shocking me and making me gasp. A full bucket was dumped on me, including mostly melted cubes of ice from our freezer that had made the cold tap water practically arctic. I screamed and blubbered as I slipped around on the kitchen floor, forgetting at first where I was and what condition I was in. I heard my dad and brothers laughing at my predicament as I struggled to stand, forgetting about my bound legs and falling over to my side. I squirmed and blubbered like a fish out of water before finally remembering why I couldn’t unclench my fists.

“Have a nice nap, whore?” my dad said to me.

He loomed over my soft naked body with my brothers at his side. He was holding an empty bucket I often used to mop the kitchen floor. Each of my brothers were holding beers in their hands and Jason was smiling down at me with a drunken expression on his face. Ron was also staring at me but his expression was more serious.

“Come on, get up,” my dad said. He dropped the empty bucket and pulled me up onto all fours. With my legs bound the way they were, though, and the linoleum floor slick from the water, I slipped right away and fell painfully onto my belly. I cried in pain as my jaw hit the floor, hard, making me bite my tongue.

“She’s jus’ a puppy, can’t even walk yet!” Jason laughed. Groaning, I looked up and watched as he chugged down the rest of his beer.

“Nonsense,” our dad muttered. “She’s just bein’ lazy. Come on, girl, get up!”

He pulled me up again and this time I managed to stand, awkwardly, on my kneecaps and bound fists. He smiled, looking satisfied, and everything was quiet for a moment. Finally I managed to whimper in a pleading tone of voice, “I need to go to sleep, please?”

“Whattaya think you were just doin’?” he laughed. He reached over to the table and I saw him produce one of the leashes we used to walk the dogs. He attached it to my dog collar and I blushed with shame. “Come on, Ron and I wanna see a live version of those pictures Jason just showed us.”

I groaned as he pulled on the leash, stumbling forward awkwardly on my stumps of legs and nonexistent hands. Jason told Ron to grab some more beer as my father tugged me, cursing occasionally at my slowness, toward the backdoor. When he opened it the freezing December air hit my body like a bolt of lightning. Not only was I naked but I was also soaking wet from the water of my rude awakening. It was dark and silent outside and there was a light, fresh layer of snow on the ground. My teeth chattered as my dad continued to curse at me for not being able to move faster. But though Daniel had led me around like a dog once or twice, he’d never deprived me of the full use of my legs before. It was a hundred times harder walking on all fours with my ankles tied back the way they were.

By the time we got to the kennel my entire body was numb from the frigid air. Jason slid open the kennel door and the warm air that struck my freezing body made me gasp in relief. I scampered as fast as I could after my father, who led me inside the heated structure with a tug of the leash. Once inside my body began to thaw and I could hear the dogs barking with excitement.

“Close the door ‘fore we wake the neighbors,” my dad told Jason.

Just then Ron appeared carrying a bunch of beer bottles in his arms. He said, “Jesus Christ it’s cold!”

“Yeah,” my father said, leading me into the center of the work area of the kennel. “Warm here, though. Jason, go get Marshall.”

“You sure about this, Dad?” Ron said as he placed the beer bottles on our dad’s work table. “You said yourself it’s sick.”

My mouth gaped open in nervous surprise as I started to realize what was going on. While I’d been passed out my dad and brothers had been drinking. Jason had shown them the pictures he’d taken of Marshall eating me out. And here I was, bound up on all fours and being led around like a dog. And my dad had said he wanted to see a “live version”.

“Daddy, don’t, please!” I gasped, afraid all over again. “You can’t do this, I…”

“Shut up, bitch-dog!” he snarled at me. To Ron he said, “And yeah, it’s sick, but so’s everything about your baby sister. She’s just a sick little bitch-dog whore so that’s how we’ll treat her. Gimme a beer.”

I heard the beer crack open and stared down at the ground in dismay as I heard him take a long swallow from it. I wished at that moment that I was drunk, too.

“It’s just… ,” Ron started, sounding hesitant.

“Just what, boy?” our dad snapped at him.

“She’s my sister!” he said. Suddenly I felt hopeful again. Perhaps Ron was coming to his senses. Maybe he would be the voice of reason and end this before things went any further.

Jason returned with Marshall at his side, the happy dog jumping up at my dad’s side just as he said in a grim voice, “Sister by blood, maybe. But she ain’t no more your sister than she is a proper lady. She’s just a whore and it ain’t like we forced that on her. I worked hard my whole life to raise her proper. Sent her to a good school, dressed her in nice clothes and fed her three squares a day. And for what? She was the one who went out to the fucking ghetto to whore her slutty body for a bunch of niggers. She was the one who used my dogs to eat out her young cunt when there weren’t no cocks around to fill it. You saw the pictures yourself, did it look to you like she wasn’t loving it?

“Remember what I told you about there bein’ two kinds of women in the world?” he continued, staring intently at my brother. Looking down at me with contempt he said, “Well, Becky sure as hell ain’t the marrying kind. She’s nothing like your mother was. No, this one is the other kind, a cheap slut worthy of nothing more than your dick. She might have a sad little smile on her face right now but don’t let it fool ya. She loves being treated like this because it’s what she is: just a cheap little bitch-dog whore.”

By the time he’d finished his speech I was sobbing soundlessly. Mostly it was because I couldn’t really refute anything he was saying. He was wrong about me whoring for the Four Oh Crew but the truth is I had gone out there for sex. And the truth was he didn’t even know half of all the slutty things I’d done. He didn’t know that I’d fucked the dogs, that I’d been Daniel’s willing slave, or that I’d had an orgasm at church. He didn’t know I’d been masturbating since I was ten or that I’d once fucked myself with a cucumber. I felt so ashamed of myself right then that a part of me just wanted him to start doing whatever it was he had planned so that I could distract myself from how cheap and whorish I suddenly felt.

I got my wish soon enough. “Come ‘ere, boy,” my dad said to Marshall. I felt him lead the large mastiff behind me and gently push his wet doggy nose against the crack of my ass. “It may be the day after, Becky, but you’re getting another Christmas gift.” He laughed as I felt the dog’s nostrils breathe out a warm gust of his breath onto my exposed vagina and anus. But then the dog just whimpered and moved his head away.

“Shit,” my dad said, sounding confused.

“She was sitting on the stool when I saw her,” Jason offered. “Remember the picture? Maybe we should prop her up on it.”

“I dunno,” my dad said, scratching his head.

He and Jason debated how best to get the dog to start eating me out and I dropped down onto my elbows, the strength leaving my arms at the thought of being eaten out by a dog in front of my family. I shut my eyes and tried to ignore the rising feeling of arousal pulsing through my body. How could I be so sick and depraved that even this was turning me on?

“Look at this,” I heard Ron say. I glanced up and saw him handing the jar of peanut butter I’d used last time to my dad. I had forgotten to bring it back inside and it must have rolled under my dad’s work table.

“Huh,” my dad said. He held out the jar to me and said, “Is this how you got him to eat you?”

Shame rippled across my skin as I felt myself nod my head. Why couldn’t I just lie?

“Clever little whore,” he grinned.

He unscrewed the jar and a moment later I felt him slather a bunch of the peanut butter against the crack of my pussy. An instant later and Marshall was there, eating up the butter enthusiastically. I felt his warm, rough tongue crush itself into my slit, searching for every last bit of the peanut butter, and suddenly I began to grow damp.

“Oh!” I cried, straightening out my arms again and crushing my ass back into Marshall’s snout. Acting on sheer instinct and letting go of my conscious and humiliated mind I cooed long and low in the back of my throat from the feeling of the dog’s tongue.

“Would you look at that?” my dad said, breathless.

“Jesus,” Ron agreed.

“See how she likes it?” Jason said.

I ignored their comments. Suddenly it was just me and Marshall and his probing tongue. The butter was all gone but just as he always had the dog seemed to enjoy lapping up my juices just as much if not more. I started humping my ass back in short little pulses, trying to get him to force his tongue even more deeply inside me, and a soft animalistic purring sound emanated from my throat.

“Look, his pecker’s getting hard!” Jason’s observation made my body quake in perverted delight.

“Hah, so it is!” our dad laughed. I heard him pat Marshall on his side and say, “You gettin’ horny, boy? Gettin’ horny for my little girl?”

The dog growled in warning. My dad stopped talking and the only sounds in the kennel came from Marshall’s tongue lapping at my cunt and the rest of the dogs barking in the back. My dad said, “Hmm. You know what, this probably explains why the dogs started actin’ all strange a few months back. Remember how we figured they was gettin’ horny, and I found that bitch for them off the Internet?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, drawing out the word in drunken realization. “You had to pay, what, couple hundred to get them laid. You think Becky’s the reason they were so worked up?”

“Listen to the other’s barking,” our dad said. “I always figured there was a bitch in heat somewhere in the neighborhood, gettin’ them all worked up. Never figured it was my own daughter till now, though. And here I was wastin’ money getting them laid every other week. Huh.”

“I thought they were paying you?” Ron said. “For breeding…”

“Nah,” my dad said. “The only pure blood mastiff breeder I could find had his own dogs to fuck his bitch. He only let me bring the boys over if I paid him two hundred fucking dollars a pop. That’s more money I wasted on this whore-dog.”

I grunted at the term “whore-dog”. I was shuddering through a mild orgasm and trying hard to conceal it from my family. Thankfully they were so caught up in conversation that they didn’t notice my tiny body tighten up and my mouth form into a perfect “o” shape as my climax came and went. The only male in the room who seemed to notice was Marshall. He continued to lick me but he was whining, now, a desperate sound coming from the back of his throat.

“Shit, poor boy is really worked up,” Jason observed.

“Yeah,” my dad said. There was a calculating tone in his voice. “Don’t seem fair his bitch should be the only one to get off, do it?”

“Not fair at all,” Jason agreed enthusiastically.

“You’re not thinking… ,” Ron started, his voice trailing off in disbelief.

My dad knelt next to me and bushed some loose strands of hair out of my face which was fixed in a look of pure concentration. I was trying to resist another orgasm, knowing that a second one would be obvious. He turned his head toward me and he had a drunken expression on his face. He said, “You ever get ’em off? You ever be a proper bitch for them?”

He wanted an answer, but even in my current state there was no way I would admit that I had. I whimpered, “N-no, I just … just Marshall … a couple times, had him … h-him … oh! … eat me…”

He stared at me for a long moment, trying to figure out if I was telling the truth. If he had been sober I’m sure he’d have known I was lying, but thankfully he was drunk. He said, “Then they’re past due, I think. It ain’t fair that a hot little bitch dog like you should walk around them in heat and let them get ya off, then not return the favor.”

“OH!” I cried a second after that. He’d pulled Marshall up by his collar and the dog willingly, eagerly, mounted me. I felt the terrible crush of his massive body on mine for a moment before his front paws came to rest on the ground at either side of my head.

“Check it out, he’s humping her!” Jason laughed. It was true. I could feel the dog’s cock pumping across my ass and thigh. He was trying desperately to find my hole as he panted above me.

“Ron, there’s some work gloves on my bench,” my dad said in a soft voice. “Get me ’em.”

“Dad, I don’t think… ,” Ron started.

“Now!” he snapped.

A moment later my dad put on the gloves and he guided his youngest mastiff’s cock into his youngest child’s cunt.

The penetration felt sublime. Despite everything I couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation. It’d been far too long since I’d been fucked by one of the dogs. In some ways I considered them the most loyal and gentle lovers I’d ever had. Feeling Marshall inside me again was like a homecoming. His cock had been the first ever inside my body and now it was back where it belonged.

“Ohhhhh!” I cried in carnal desire. The doggy cock was pumping back and forth with a vengeance inside my tight hot hole. Back and forth it fucked me and the only sounds in the room were my moans and grunts, Marshall’s heavy breathing, and the rest of the dogs barking in desperation in the background. I could feel the knot in my favorite dog’s cock growing inside my cunt, locking him in place, locking our bodies together. Drool dribbled out of my lips as I panted like the bitch dog I was and then I cried out as I came.

“What a fucking slut,” Jason said, his voice soft in wonderment. “I think she just came.”

“She did,” our dad agreed. “Jesus, he’s knotted up in her. We couldn’t pull him away if we wanted to.”

No one said anything else for a second. Marshall continued humping my pussy with blinding speed and his knot grew larger and larger inside my tight cunt, hurting and pleasuring me at the same time. The knowledge that my family was watching me somehow enhanced my pleasure, making me enjoy the sex even more than I ever had with any of the dogs. Ron seemed to read my mind when he said, “I think she honestly enjoys being treated like this. You were right, Dad. You were right all along.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You know what? Go out to the garage and get three folding chairs. Jason, go get us some more beers. We might as well be comfortable as we watch the show.”

Five minutes later the chairs were set up and Marshall was still fucking me. My dad and brothers were making drunken jokes about me. My dad kept observing that using me as his dogs’ bitch would save him money and that I might as well be treated as the whole family’s whore, dogs included.

“Whatta ya think Tyler will say?” Ron asked. I could tell supposedly sweet older brother was drunk, now. “Or are we gonna tell him?”

“We’ll tell him,” my dad said, cracking open another beer. “An’ trust me, he’ll wanna fuck her, too. Yeah, Becky’ll be a good whore for all of us.”

I was listening to all this from a detached, faraway place. My mind was a cloud of pleasures and humiliations, shames and desires. Marshall’s knot was at its full size, I knew from experience, and he would be exploding his doggy cum up inside me any minute. All I could do was breathe and moan in the meantime as his spiky cock continually jabbed itself inside of me.

“But what if … I mean, this is illegal!” Ron said, laughing from pointing out the obvious. His voice slurred from the beer as he continued, “What if she tells someone? Won’t we get in trouble?”

“If she tells someone we’ll fucking kill her!” Jason declared, anger in his drunken voice.

“Calm down, no one’s killin’ nobody,” our dad said in his stern, if intoxicated, voice. “She ain’t gonna say nothing. Look at her, she likes this. Besides, she might be a dumb little slut but she’s smart enough to know she ain’t got no other options. If she went to the cops they’d put her in a foster home and she’d end up in the ghetto living with some poor-ass fucking family that only wants her for the check they get every month for keepin’ her. Either that or she’d end up in an orphanage or some shit. She knows what she has here is better.

“Besides,” he said with satisfaction, “I been fucking her a month now and she ain’t said shit to nobody.”

My brothers joined him in laughter. Jason said, “Yeah, when I fucked her the first time she threatened to tell on me, but when I put her in her place she knew the score.”

Ron giggled. “Wanna know something? I used to jerk off into her panties and I’m pretty sure she knew but didn’t care!”

They all laughed at that and my face blushed red with embarrassment. So it’d been Ron, my supposedly sweet and loving brother, who’d been jerking off into my underwear after all.

“FUCKFUCKFUCK!” I screamed, bringing all other conversation to a halt. Marshall’s cock was exploding inside of me and suddenly my hot wet pussy was filling up with his doggy sperm. It was too much to take and it dribbled out of my body as the sensation thrust me into a sudden and violent orgasm.

After he finished cumming the knot of Marshall’s cock shrank and the dog, with a satisfied yelp, walked over and away from my kneeling body. He plopped down in front of me and I wanted to do the same, but my dad said, “Jason, get the others. Just let ’em out and let’s see what they do.”

I knew what they were going to do, of course. They’d done it before. And sure enough, the second Jason opened the gate at the back of the kennel the dogs came running over and Ike immediately barked and growled at the others, asserting his alpha-dog status. Then he mounted me and without any help his hard cock found my pussy hole within moments.

“Ha! Good boy!” my dad yelled.

Each of the dogs ended up getting his own turn. When they were done I collapsed gratefully into the dirt, exhausted and spent. It had to be at least four or five in the morning by now and I was completely drained. Meanwhile my dad and brothers were shitfaced drunk and they had a hell of a time getting the dogs back into the enclosed part of the kennel. After they finally did that, though, my dad grabbed me by the leash and started dragging me in that direction.

“We’re really gonna leave her with ’em?” Ron asked, sounding plastered.

“Shit, let me bring her to my bed,” Jason said. “I could use another go, I’m fucking worked up, man!”

My dad snapped at both of them, “Shuddup! You can fuck ‘er tomorrow. I told ‘er she was gonna sleep out here, and that’s what she’s gonna do.”

And that’s what I did. I was thrown into the enclosed area and the gate was locked behind me. Slowly, weakly, I crawled into a corner and collapsed. I heard the sliding door to the kennel close shortly after the room was plunged into absolute darkness.

Sleep came shortly after that.

 

I awoke surrounded by huge, heavy bodies of fur.

The mastiffs had surrounded me at some point during the night and I must have crawled away from the corner because they literally encircled me now. I blinked up into the darkness and wondered what time it was.

My nipples throbbed with pain as I groaned and tried to rub the sleep from my eyes. It was difficult because my hands were still duct-taped into fists and I realized that I couldn’t feel the bottom half of my legs. The circulation of blood had been impaired due to the way my legs were bound and the muscles of my thighs ached. There was also a deep, throbbing pain coming from my heavily fucked pussy and ass. Groaning, I feebly moved my sticky and sore body into one of the dogs, more than anything wishing I could stretch out. Since I couldn’t I settled on nuzzling up to one of the dogs’ bellies. He panted gratefully and I smiled.

As depraved and sick and wrong as all this was, I did feel a certain satisfaction that I could be their bitch again. I’d really missed that.

I drifted in and out of slumber for another hour or so before Ron came and woke me up. “Come on,” he said, sounding angry.

“Wh … what?” I murmured.

“I said come on!” he snapped, grabbing me by my hair. He yanked me so hard that some of the last remaining pins I’d used to put it up fell out from my hair.

“Ow!” I cried.

The dogs woke up and they started to growl and my brother. Protective of me, I thought.

He snapped the leash around my collar and yanked me toward him. I crawled over Patton, who continued to growl, then followed Ron out of the enclosed area. After locking the gate back up he led me over to the huge steel tub my dad used to bathe the dogs.

“Get in,” he ordered me.

I suddenly felt terrible again about the way he was treating me. If it had been Jason or my dad doing this I would have just obeyed, but there was a small part of my brain still telling me that Ron was better than them. That deep down he did care about me. He would help me if I asked and put an end to my abuse. I blubbered, “Ron, please, you know last night wasn’t me! Dad, he just … he did things to me, made me act all crazy. I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t want any of that, I really didn’t, and … and I don’t blame you, for you know, going along? But please, I can’t do anything like that again. I really can’t. You have to help me figure out how to end all this!”

He paused for a moment and then sighed. I started crying and he knelt down next to me and gently stroked my messy, tangled hair. He said, “You know, Becky, there’s a part of me that really wanted to believe you were the sweet little sister I always thought you were. But you ruined that last night. I mean, you had orgasms from being fucked by dogs. Dogs! And I’m not talking one or two, but at least a dozen. You can’t fake enjoying it the way you did, sis. And Dad’s right, what kind of girl would like something like that?”

“But I… ,” I started to protest.

He cut me off. “A whore,” he whispered sympathetically. “Face it, sis, that’s what you are. I didn’t want to think so either. When I saw dad standing there with his fingers stuffed up your ass my first urge was to attack him. You know why I didn’t? Because the expression on your face when Jason and I walked in was … well, you were enjoying yourself.”

“I wasn’t!” I stammered through tears.

“Shh,” he said. “You were, Becky. And only a whore would enjoy something like that.”

He let me cry for a minute as he turned on the faucet, filling the steel tub up with cold water.

“Dad said I could cut off your bindings,” he told me, his voice soft. “But if you keep up this crying bullshit, trust me, he’ll tie you up again, and worse. Okay?”

It was then that I completely understood the score. I had no allies in my household and I had nowhere else to go. After my experience in Cleveland there was no way I’d ever go to the cops. Besides, just as my dad had pointed out, the best they could do for me was either put me in a foster family or an orphanage. Finally, there was also a part of me that wanted this. There was no denying it. Ron was right: what kind of a girl enjoys getting fucked by four large mastiffs? Yet I had. I definitely had.

 

Jason bathed me with somewhat caring hands after cutting me loose from my bindings. I think he just enjoyed touching me, taking his time to explore his developing sister’s body. At first I barely noticed. The return of blood to my hands and lower legs made them tingle with a terrible pain and I whimpered as Ron gently shushed me. He used a large sponge to soap me up from head to toe, paying a lot of attention to my b-cup breasts and round, smooth ass. He then attached a short hose to the faucet and sprayed it down into my hair, pulling out the few remaining pins there in the process. After that he produced a bottle of shampoo I recognized as mine and he worked in gingerly into my twisted and dirty hair, spraying it out afterward. A typical boy, he hadn’t brought with him my conditioner. It was going to be a bad hair day.

After my body and hair were both totally clean he placed the tip of the hose at the entrance to my vagina and let it spray up inside of me. “Dad wanted me to make sure to get all the dog-cum out of you,” he said, sounding apologetic. I yelped at the sensation of the cold water gushing up into my most sensitive area. He let it spray there for a long while, turning my innards frigid and giving me a bloated feeling. I found myself spreading my legs and leaning back, gazing up at the ceiling.

“This is turning you on, isn’t it?”

His words interrupted my jumbled thoughts. I said, “I … yes. God…”

He nodded. “Whore,” he declared before finally pulling the hose away.

After that he gave me a hand and helped me out of the tub. He dried me off with a towel the same way he’d washed me: gently and thoroughly and giving himself many opportunities to cop feel after feel from his sister. When the towel was at my pussy he took a long time there and after he was finished he laid the towel on the dirt floor and said, “I’ve never had a blow-job.”

Understanding, my shuddering and sad young body knelt down on the towel without any protest. He took out his cock from his pants and I sucked it into my mouth. I didn’t deep throat him but neither did I phone it in. Taking my time to focus on his sensitive cock head I simultaneously used my cool hand to stroke the base of his member. For some reason he tasted sublime to me. I felt my stomach rumble hungrily when his balls began to tighten and he started to gasp above me. I took all six or so inches of his 15-year-old cock into me as he came. I swallowed his cum down with well practiced effort and all he said after was, “Come on.”

He helped me stand up then led me out of the kennel by the hand. We walked across the fresh layer of snow on the ground and back toward the house. I was freezing by the time we got there and the warmth of the house was a relief.

Jason wanted to fuck my pussy as soon as we got there. It was already three in the afternoon and I was surprised by how late it was. Without a word of protest I laid down on the sofa and parted my legs for him as Ron and our dad watched on. Jason fucked me long and hard and filled up my cunt with his sperm when he was done.

My dad wanted a turn after him. He also fucked my cunt but, of course, his cock was a monster. I grunted and groaned throughout the sex and ended up cumming just before he added his sperm to his son’s. After he was done he asked Ron if he wanted a turn but he said, “Nah, she just sucked me off.”

Our dad laughed. “Was it any good?”

“It was,” he grinned.

“Looks like you’re done here, Becky. Go do your chores,” my dad said. “Just the indoor ones. Jason will take care of the kennel.”

I spent the rest of the day scrubbing the toilets, vacuuming the carpets, and washing the dishes. I did it all in the nude. My dad said there was no point in me wearing clothes in the house anymore. He said I looked prettier while naked. When the chores were done, though, he told me to take a proper shower. “And do something about your hair,” he added. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

That night, after dinner, he made me sit on his lap. Me, him, and my two youngest brothers watched a rated-R action movie. It was the first time my dad had ever allowed me to see a rated-R film. There was nudity in it and some sex, too. When it was over he had me get down on my knees and suck down as much of his cock as I could.

Which wasn’t much. He was simply way too big for me. I kept gagging and almost throwing up every time his cock’s head passed the back of my tongue. Annoyed, he eventually threw me onto my back and fucked me. Jason wanted a blow job, though, so missionary turned into doggy-style and suddenly I was getting fucked from behind and from in front at the same time. Jason came first, filling my throat with his sperm, and then my dad came, too. After they finished Ron decided he wanted to try my ass, and for the third time in my life I was fucked there, making me cry and moan and beg and whimper all at once.

I was allowed to sleep in my bed alone that night. That felt good. It almost made me feel human again, normal again.

When I woke up the next day, though, it was to the sound of nervous whisperings in my bedroom. I kept my eyes shut but heard Jason say, “Seriously, dude, I am not fucking with you!”

“He’s not,” Ron agreed.

“Bullshit.” The third voice was Tyler’s, my eldest brother. Like Jason he’d just had a birthday. I knew that he considered himself a mature adult, now, and had heard him discuss the possibility of marrying his girlfriend. He was 20 and planned on moving out soon but was still saving up money to do so.

“Here, I’ll prove it,” Jason said, no longer whispering.

He pulled my comforter off of my naked body and I could hear Tyler gasp at the sight of his 13-year-old sister’s naked, pubescent body. I was resting on my side with one arm draped behind me and another bent toward my head, its hand cupping my face. I blinked open my eyes and I just stared at the three boys, my older brothers, staring down at me.

“I’m outta here,” Tyler said. “This is … shit!”

“No, wait!” Jason said. He jumped up onto my bed and without any resistance from me he rolled me onto my back then gripped my legs. “Ron, get her arms. Tickle Torture time!”

Ron scrambled up onto the bed and grabbed my lifeless arms and held them above me. For as long as I could remember my brothers had given me “Tickle Tortures” like these on my birthdays, pinning me down and taking turns to tickle me mercilessly. Of course, before now I was always clothed during it, and they had always been innocent torments, the price of being the little sister in a house full of boys. This time it wasn’t my birthday, of course, and there was nothing innocent about their intentions. I stared at Tyler and thought of begging him for help, but then I remembered what Ron had told me the day before and I kept my mouth shut.

“Holy shit,” Tyler whispered. He brushed his hand through his hair and the expression on his face reminded me of my dad’s whenever he was surprised by something. Of my three brothers, Tyler took after our dad the most. Tall and large and strong, he had grown into quite a handsome and dangerous looking man.

“Go on,” Jason told him. “See if she’ll deny it!”

My lips parted again then shut. My heart was pounding as I again considered begging Tyler for help. If we’d been alone together I might have, but the fact that Jason and Ron were there prevented me from doing so. Instead I just pleaded at him with my eyes.

“Are you… ,” he began. He took a few steps forward until he was right next to my bed. I saw lust in his eyes and it was at that moment I knew he would never help me. After an awkward silence he started to tickle me.

Somehow, from somewhere deep, I found the energy to giggle and then laugh. My eldest brother’s thick, coarse fingers tingled up and down my body, hesitantly at first but with growing confidence. I started to chirp and yelp and laugh out loud. Soon my giggles turned delirious just as they always did. I laughed and kickek and begged for him to stop but instead he just increased the torture. He was focusing on my tummy and ribcage at first, then just under my breasts, all very sensitive areas. No doubt the sight of my pubescent body writhing in tingling agony, my breasts bouncing and skin blushing, turned all three of my brothers on. Jason encouraged him to go further.

“Touch her slit,” he said. “Look at it, she’s wet!”

“Shut up!” Tyler said, an edge of danger in his voice. Jason backed off.

I couldn’t help but moan and laugh and giggle and beg under my eldest brother’s touch, though. He did touch touch my slit, then, even as I was giggling from the way he tickled my tummy. Suddenly my cries turned into gasps of pleasure.

“See?” Ron said.

“Told you,” Jason added.

“Fuck,” Tyler said.

He got on top of me after tickling my cunt for a few seconds, allowing me to get worked up under his touch. While Ron and Jason held me in place for him Tyler positioned his cock at my cunt’s entrance. “Fuck, I so need this… ,” he said. He plunged his cock into me a moment later.

I screamed out then giggled then cried. My other brothers were continuing my tickle torture but Tyler was in me and he was big. Huge. He put our brothers to shame with his size and only our dad was larger. I groaned as his cock penetrated my body and squirmed and laughed beneath him. Moans of pleasure turned into uncontrollable giggle-fits and then back and forth. Jason and Ron had let go of my legs and they were just tickling me now, making me laugh uncontrollably through this torture as Tyler fucked his instrument in and out of my young flesh. For the first time ever I found myself giggling through an orgasm.

“She just came, dude!” Jason yelled. “Fuck her harder, she loves it!”

He complied with Jason’s request, really fucking me hard, now, long slams of his meat into my body over and over again. He came after what seemed like forever. I clasped my soft thighs around his rough and hairy ones while he did, all the while laughing with tears in my eyes. When it was over the three of them left me like that, a rumpled mess upon my bed, Tyler’s cum seeping up inside me even as my confused and horny mind sought for sleep.

xxxxx

Over the course of the next several days my father and brothers fucked me at almost any given moment.

When I woke up the day after Tyler fucked me, the door to my bedroom was gone. Literally. It had been removed while I slept, leaving me with absolutely no privacy.

That same day I took a shower and Tyler ended up joining me just as I was finishing. “Suck me,” he said, right after entering the tub. I did as I was told and sucked him off. My eldest brother’s cock was almost as big as our dad’s but I sucked it down my throat anyway, gagging around it until his sperm shot down into my belly.

After making a spaghetti dinner for them that same evening my dad kept my naked body close to his clothed one while we watched a movie together as a family. Halfway through the porno he had Jason bring Patton, one of the dogs, into the room. All of them laughed as they watched the canine fuck me in the middle of the living room. Afterward I sucked each of them off, except my dad, who had grown tired of trying to force his thing into my mouth and fucked my doggy-cum filled pussy instead.

Day after day of this treatment went by without any objection from me. Part of my acquiescence, I have to admit, was because I did enjoy the sex. I was having more orgasms than ever.

Every night I crawled over to my bedroom closet, found my Book of Sins, and updated it. Incest, bestiality, etc. Sin after sin was being fulfilled. I was high from the feeling of depravity. Was there any girl in history as wanton and debased as me? I wondered.

“You’re not going back to St. Mary’s,” my dad told me the morning of the last Friday of my Christmas break.

“What?” I asked, confused. I was naked, as I always was, at the kitchen table. I’d just served him his breakfast and had started eating my own.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why should I waste money on a good school for a cheap slut like you?” he asked rhetorically. “I can spend the money on a boat instead.”

“But Daddy!” I whined.

My tone of voice made him angry. It was the first time I’d whined or complained to him since Christmas and he definitely didn’t like it. A look of rage came over his face just as Jason entered the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Jason asked, sensing our dad’s mood.

“What’s going on is your whore-sister seems to think she can whine like a little brat to me!” he yelled. Grabbing me by my cunt he lifted me out of my chair as I screamed in agony. He gripped his hand around my throat and stared daggers into my eyes. Holding me at eye level he hissed, “You think a Catholic school wants a little whore there, huh? You think you belong with the good girls? Answer me!”

“N-no,” I begged. “I’m s-sorry!”

He dropped me to the kitchen floor and loomed over me. “No, you aren’t. Not yet. But you will be,” he announced. He marched away from me and took Jason by his arm, leading him away and speaking softly to my cruelest older brother.

I scrambled to do the dishes after that, working hard in a panic to do a perfect job while trying not to cry. Maybe, I told myself, if I showed how obedient I was my dad would be appeased before doing whatever it was he had planned. I could hear him upstairs and could barely make out his voice along with the rest of my brothers’. Fear turned my stomach into knots when I realized they were conspiring against me.

Just as I dried the last plate and put it away in the cupboard my family appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. My dad looked serious and simmering while Jason looked incredibly pleased with himself. My other brothers looked somewhat eager.

“You finished?” My dad boomed.

I scrambled over to him and said, “Yes, Daddy, everything’s all cleaned, even the pans…”

“Even the pans?” my dad said with scorn in his voice. To my brothers he commented, “Hear how proud of herself she sounds? Like the pans are usually an option or something.”

Jason laughed and Tyler joined him. Ron just slowly shook his head.

“Your brothers and I are going to go do some shopping for the trip tomorrow,” he said, referring to the ice-fishing trip he was taking them on. “We’re gonna be gone most of the day. In the meantime, because of your bratty attitude I’ve decided you can spend the day in solitary confinement. Boys.”

Jason and Tyler stepped forward and grabbed me before I could think. I resisted the urge to scream or beg, too afraid of making my punishment worse to give in to my blinding fear. They carried me to the basement door and down the stairs with Ron and our dad following.

When we got down there my two eldest brothers carried me to the ill-used toilet we had down there. At some point in the past, before I was born, my father had gotten it into his head that he was going to completely finish the basement so that he could have a rec-room. He’d started by adding the small half-bathroom and from what I’d been told had wasted a lot more money than he’d originally estimated installing the toilet, sink, and lighting. He’d put the basement project on hold after that but had never returned to it. Since then that small bathroom had gathered dust as it was only used in an emergency whenever someone really had to go but the other two and half bathrooms upstairs were all occupied. I myself hadn’t used the basement toilet in years.

Tyler and Jason squeezed me into the small room and plopped me down onto the toilet. The ceramic seat was cold on my ass but at least they’d put it down first. I looked around in a panic, wondering what they were going to do with me, but still I managed to stay quiet. Making any amount of noise at this point would be suicide, I knew.

“Wait,” my dad said. He handed something to Jason and said, “Don’t forget this.”

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned. “My own idea and I nearly forgot.”

“I still don’t know why you have that,” Tyler said. “Makes me sort of worry about you, bro.”

“I told you!” Jason said, sounding angry and defensive, “Jeff and I bought it as a prank for Amelia’s birthday a couple months ago but at the last minute he chickened out.”

“Then why doesn’t he have it?” Tyler asked. “Why’d you keep it?”

“Boys, stop arguing,” our dad demanded. “I don’t give two shits why he’s got it, but he does and it’s a great idea. Put it on her already.”

I watched as Jason slipped my ankles through what appeared at first to be a leather g-string, only the straps were too thick for that. When it got halfway up my legs I noticed something else about it, too: instead of having an area to cover my pussy there was instead a horizontal strip of leather with something sticking out of it. I groaned as memories of Daniel’s punishment of me at church flooded my head. This device was similar to the custom panties he’d forced me to wear as the object attached to the strip of leather was clearly a small vibrator.

Jason spat on my pussy and then stuck the device inside my tight hole. I groaned at the sensation and was relieved the object was only about three inches long. After that he argued with Tyler about how tight to secure the “vibrator harness” in place. They tightened the belt around my waist until it dug painfully into my flesh then they secured it with its belt buckle. When they were done the vibrator was secured inside me while leaving my slit and vulva exposed and naked.

The rest proceeded quickly. They took my ankles and pulled them back around the base of the toilet and tied them together with twine. After that they took my arms and tied my wrists together before tying them to a towel-bar that was bolted into the wall above the toilet-tank. My arms were extended fully over my head and I couldn’t even lean forward a few inches without putting a strain on my bound wrists.

When they were all done my father tested the bindings’ strength and grunted his approval. My legs were splayed wide over the toilet, my pussy was stuffed with a vibrator, and my back was straight. My dad took a long length of twine and decided to wrap it around the toilet tank and my belly to make sure I didn’t accidentally slide forward at all. When he was done everyone seemed very pleased by their work. I was completely immobile, unable to move except to roll my head and examine my confines. I was totally trapped.

“How does the vibrator work, again?” our dad asked.

Jason said, “The website called it an ‘intermittent pleasure device’. Basically you turn it on and it starts vibrating at a random level of intensity– high, medium, or low– for between three and six minutes. Then it turns itself off for awhile, between two and ten minutes. Then it starts up again on a new setting. The website said that if your lover wore it all day at work, by the time she got home she’d be desperate to get in bed with you.”

“I imagine so,” our dad said, sounding pleased. He addressed me then, saying, “Here’s the deal, Becky. Your brothers and I will be gone until late this evening. We got a lot of shopping to do and I think we’ll have dinner and a movie, too. Depending on your attitude when we get back you’ll either get to sleep in your bed tonight and have the house to yourself while we’re gone for the weekend, or we’ll leave you tied up like this until we get home Sunday evening from our trip. Understand?”

I nodded my head. I couldn’t believe they were going to leave me like this all day but the thought of being stuck like this all weekend was incomprehensible. Promising myself that no matter what I’d be the perfect, obedient daughter upon their return I said, “Just … have fun shopping, Daddy.”

He grinned at that. “Jason, turn on the intermittent whatever device and lets go.”

Jason reached between my legs and slid over some sort of switch on the leather-harnessed device. The vibrator came to life instantly, buzzing softly within the folds of my sex. I gasped at the sudden sensation.

“Is it on?” Ron asked.

“Sure is, look at her face,” Tyler observed.

“Can’t hear nothing,” our dad pointed out.

“It’s supposed to be quiet so you can wear it in secret,” Jason explained. “But it’s definitely on. Look at her slit!”

He was talking about the fact that I was already growing wet. I could feel it myself and I started a soft groaning sound. It felt absolutely wonderful and suddenly this punishment didn’t seem quite so bad. I was bound in an uncomfortable position, of course, but the buzzing vibrator felt exquisite.

They left after that, closing the door and turning off the lights to the small bathroom. I was left in complete darkness as the vibrator buzzed inside me and more than anything I wished I could reach down and rub my hard clitty. Even without that, though, I figured I’d be able to cum from the vibrator alone.

I was wrong. Just as I was really getting worked up the device stopped buzzing. “No!” I groaned into the darkness. My labored breathing filled the air as I tried desperately to get off by squeezing the vibrator with my pussy. It was no use. What was worse, though, was that by the time the vibrator started again not only had I stepped well back from achieving an orgasm but the intensity of the device’s vibrations was noticeably lower. I groaned and tried to cum anyway but didn’t even get close before it quit on me again.

And that’s how it went the rest of the day. The devilish device between my legs would get me oh-so-close to a climax, then quit. Sometimes I really thought I would get there and I laughed with joy but the next thing I knew it had shut down again, turning my laughter into sobs of desperation. My horny mind could think of nothing but its desire to achieve orgasm and dirty, nasty fantasies and memories flooded my head. There was no way to tell the passage of time and after what felt like forever I was convinced that at any moment my family would return. As it turned out it was only about noon when I thought at least ten hours had passed. I had a lot longer to wait.

Terrible, horny desires consumed me and rendered me little more than a wanton sex machine in a matter of hours. All I cared about was getting off, of getting fucked, of cumming. If you’d asked me my name during that time I’d have had trouble remembering it.

All I could think about was how I’d taken my so-called “abuses” for granted before. Daniel, Jason, the racist cops and the rest of my family; I’d resented and felt ashamed by what they’d done to me at the time but now I wished desperately I could be back in those situations. My clit was like a nuclear bomb ready to go off. It was desperate to be touched but there was no one there to touch it. I pulled my arms at their bindings and cried audibly in the darkness, hating that I’d ever been so ungrateful before. More than that, I hated the fact I couldn’t touch myself.

How many times had I lamented being touched? My body was on fire, needing more than anything a chance to cum. Yet here I was, whimpering in the dark, as the little device inside my pussy pulsed and vibrated at random intervals. I sobbed. If I could just get off, I kept thinking, if I could only just get off!

That day on the toilet was a definite turning point for me. Like Scarlett in “Gone With the Wind” I decided that, “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.” The torment of not being able to cum was the absolute worst torture I’d ever gone through. Even the beating the cops had given me or the ass fucking my dad had inflicted on me paled in comparison. At least in both those instances my slutty body got what it was built for in the end. But this, this torture? My body was being denied its most basic need. Like a flower without sunlight I knew that I would whither if I couldn’t cum. No, I needed orgasms and no matter what I had to go through to achieve them, from now on, I would do it.

I would do anything, anything, to cum, I swore to myself. I’d move Heaven and Earth to cum. It’s what I was built for, what I was made for, and I’d never resist it again for any reason.

It was with huge relief after what felt like a lifetime of drifting in and out of sex-filled dreams and desperate fits of anger that I heard my family return. Their footfalls echoed down from the main floor and I waited with glee for them to come to me. Only they didn’t, not at first. My heart plummeted as the vibrator brought me to the precipice again then shut off. Why hadn’t they come to me? What were they doing upstairs? I whimpered and sobbed on the toilet, my body tingling with desire and sinful urges. I needed to be fucked.

An hour or more after their arrival home I finally heard footsteps on the stairs leading down to the basement. I panted with anticipation and licked my lips, imagining them opening the door and throwing me to the ground and fucking the shit out of me. I couldn’t wait, couldn’t stand waiting, so when the door opened I gasped, “Thank God! Thank God, thank God!”

The lights turned on and I blinked at the sudden brightness. I heard Ron say, “Jesus Christ!” followed by Jason’s laughter.

“Look at her!” he said. “She looks like … Jesus, what does she look like?”

I must have been quite the sight. My body was slick with damp sweat and I knew the expression on my face was wild and desperate. Without thinking I blubbered, “Please, Jason, fuck me now, oh please fuck me! Or Ron, or both … I’ll fuck you both, I swear, I promise … ohhhhhh…”

The vibrator had turned on again at the end of my desperate plea. I stared into Jason’s eyes and he looked amused. Ron looked confused, though, and almost worried. Both were holding bottles of beer as they studied me in silence for a moment. Then I saw Tyler behind both of them and he said, “She looks like an animal, that’s what.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, stepping closer to me. My breathing increased as I stared at him, trying to will him to touch me. Instead he said, “But you know, she sounds like she’s whining to me.”

“No!” I gasped, fear flooding my veins. “I’m not … I just want to be a good whore for you, a good little slut. I’m not whining, I’m not…”

Tyler mused over that for a minute. He said, “Tell ya what, sis, give us each a blow-job and maybe we’ll convince the old man you’re not whining. How about that?”

“Yes!” I eagerly agreed. “Thank you, thanks so much!”

Jason, who was closest to me, went first. He stood next to the toilet and I turned my head and gulped down his cock. I made a sloppy job of it but I was so desperate to get off I couldn’t concentrate on properly sucking him. He didn’t seem to mind. He laughed as he held my head, observing to our brothers that my mouth was even hotter than usual. When he came I drank his seed down with abandon and just then the vibrator inside me stopped buzzing again. I groaned in disappointment: sucking Jason had added to my arousal and I’d been sure I’d finally cum, but I hadn’t been able to.

Tyler went after him and he mostly just drank his beer and let me try to fit his massive member inside my mouth. It didn’t take long to make him cum, thankfully, even though he was too large for me to properly service. My empty stomach filled with his seed as he spurt his semen onto my tongue.

Ron complained about the uncomfortable angle of his blow-job at first but within moments he was just sighing and agreeing with our brothers that my mouth was particularly hot that night. I slobbered around his cock and moaned in desire from the taste of it. Of the three I swear his had the best taste, for some reason, and I felt my pussy grow even more damp as I sucked on it. The vibrator sprang to life again on what I now knew was the highest setting and my eyes opened in desperation. Once again I truly felt like I could cum, now, and I groaned and gagged myself on his prick, looking for any extra stimulus to send me over the edge.

But he came a moment after the vibrator started and though I drank down his seed willingly I found myself sobbing again, too. My brothers watched me sob like that in silence, apparently stunned at how desperate I was to climax. None of them said a word as I whimpered pathetically on the toilet. If one of them would just touch me, even just a light grope of my breast, I would cum. But they just stared at me until the vibrator stopped and I just moaned there, trying to catch my breath.

“We better go tell Dad,” Ron finally said.

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed. “God damn I’ve never even heard of a slut so desperate to cum.”

They shut off the lights and closed the door and left me like that, but I was actually relieved. They were telling our dad about my current state. Surely he would show some compassion. All I wanted now, after all, was to be his perfectly willing and obedient little girl. There was no defiance in me anymore, no resistance of any kind. If I could just prove that to him I could start having amazing orgasms again and that thought made me laugh deliriously in the darkness.

My dad did come to me shortly after, my brothers in tow. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom and, after turning the lights back on, whistled. “Well look at you,” he said. “What do you have to say for yerself?”

He was drunk, or at least getting there, I realized. Unsure of whether that was a good thing or a bad thing I just stared at him for a moment, a desperate look on my pretty face, then said, “I’m so … sorry, Daddy. I’m so so sorry. You were right about school, you shouldn’t have to waste good money on a slut like me. I should be in a public school, you shouldn’t waste any of your money…”

Despite my best efforts there was a definite whining tone in my voice. I knew it, but couldn’t stop. I continued, “I know I’m just a whore, now, Daddy, I do. If you just … just let me do that, be that for you, I … I think I can be a good whore. I know I can, Daddy, I know it! Just … please, please let me cum!”

The vibrator snapped back on and I groaned and shook my head. My dad laughed and stepped forward. “So you finally came to yer senses, huh? An’ all it took was one day of having that little thing in your cunt?”

“Yes, yes,” I begged. The vibrations were radiating through my small body and I needed to cum. Literally, I needed to cum. If I didn’t this time I didn’t know what would happen to my delicate psyche. I was on the edge, at the very precipice, of pure insanity.

I think my dad saw that in my eyes. He said, “All right. You need to cum, so I’ll let you cum.”

Laughter filled the air and it took me a moment to realize the sound was coming from me. “Thank you, oh thank you, Daddy!” I blubbered. “I’ll fuck you really good, I promise, I’ll…”

“Who said anything about fucking?” he demanded. I watched him hand his empty beer bottle to Jason then stand in front of me. He unzipped his pants and took out his cock. It wasn’t hard.

Confused at first, I wondered what he was going to do. Then a soft stream of urine came from the head of his cock, aimed directly at my exposed slit hovering above the toilet bowl.

The sensation was disgusting and hot and intense. The stream of my father’s urine increased into the strength of a fire-hose as he sprayed his yellow pee at my slit. My mouth gasped open into a silent scream as the disgusting, awful pressure caused an orgasm of untold proportions exploded across my body.

My brothers laughed in surprise at both our dad’s actions and my reaction. His hot stream of nasty piss splashed across my clit and slit sending me into climax after awful climax. I’d been right that all I needed was to be touched down there in order to set off an orgasm of nuclear dimensions. The fact that it was urine touching me didn’t matter to my desperate and wanton body. The piss splashed everywhere, up onto my thighs and tummy, but most of it found its way into the toilet bowl between my splayed legs. When the stream finally slowed into a trickle I just gasped and moaned, wishing for more.

I got my wish. “Anyone else need to take a leak?” my dad asked, shaking his limp dick over me. All three of my brothers said they had to in unison. “Well, go on, then. Your sister needs it, too.”

Tyler went after my dad and I blubbered audibly through an orgasm as his piss sprayed onto my slit, too. The vibrator had turned off again but that didn’t matter. The feeling of my brother’s urine was more than enough to keep me cumming. Ron went after, saying that he really had to go, and I stared into his eyes with a crazy expression on my face while his piss also got me off. Jason ended the show by pissing last. He wanted to coat my entire vagina with his urine so unlike the rest he didn’t focus his stream on my sensitive clit. It turned out not to matter. Just the idea of getting pissed on was more than enough to give me yet another orgasm.

When they were all done my father announced I’d earned the right to be freed from the toilet. Ron and Jason cut my bindings and helped carry me back upstairs. Our dad told me to take a shower and both Tyler and Ron said they would help me. They did, and the feeling of being sandwiched between them, their hands all soapy and roaming across my skin under the hot spray of the shower got me worked up all over again.

When we got back downstairs my dad was on the couch watching a porno with Jason. He was commenting that the woman in the scene they were watching was obviously faking her orgasm. He said, “When your sister cums you can tell its genuine. But look at this whore. You can tell from her eyes she’s thinking about how she’s gonna spend the money she’s making, not about the dick in her cunt.”

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. “She’s still hot, though.”

My dad wanted to fuck my ass and the thought of doing that made me shudder in anticipation. There was a twist, though. He wanted to fuck me with me sitting on his lap, my back to him and my legs dangling wide over his. He was very specific about the way he wanted it done but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get fucked.

He spent several minutes getting my ass ready with the lube and his fingers, then he lifted me up and placed the head of his huge cock at my slightly stretched out anus. With his help I slowly lowered myself down, watching my brothers watch me while drinking their beers. They all had obvious hard-ons inside their pants and that gave me a nasty thrill. The woman on the TV screen had huge breasts and a perfect body but no one was watching her except me since I was facing the television directly. No, everyone’s eyes were on my fresh, developing body and its immature b-cup tits.

I groaned as I slid myself down on my daddy’s cock. Once it was all the way up inside my ass my dad leaned back on the couch, keeping my back against his naked body while he did, and only then did I discover the real reason for this position. He said, “Who wants her pussy?”

Everyone grew silent, even me. Only the sounds of the rehearsed and choreographed fucking from the TV filled the air. Jason broke the silence by saying, “What … like right now?”

I felt my pussy pulse. My ass was adjusting to my daddy’s large, thick cock just as his hands came around me and gripped my tits. He said, “‘Course right now. Who wants it?”

All at once all three of my brothers began to argue over who would get to fuck me while our dad’s cock was firmly planted inside my ass. He cut them off by saying, “QUIET! If you can’t decide amongst yourselves than we’ll let Becky choose.”

I groaned, but not in dismay. This situation was so perverse that I nearly came just from the thought of getting DP’d by my dad and one of my brothers. Daniel had shown me some double-penetration videos before and I’d always wondered in the past why any woman would want to go through that. Right now, though, I wanted it desperately.

“Eeeny, meanie, miney, moe,” I said, slowly, pointing to each of my brothers with each word. “Catch, a tiger, by his, toe…”

My finger was pointing at Jason when I was done with the “choosing” rhyme. He grinned and stood up from the couch, dropped his pants, and stood between both our father and my splayed legs. Placing the head of his cock at my vaginal entrance, he thrust forward and suddenly I had two cocks inside of me at once.

“Fuck, no… ,” I cursed. It was much too much to process, getting double-teamed like this by my dad and brother. I came right away as I felt his cock slide up into my pussy. My dad started to lift me by my waist, bobbing me up and down on his cock as Jason grit his teeth and really pounded his cock into his little sister. My whole body sparkled with delight and orgasmic pleasure. There was pain, too, of course. My dad’s cock was torture to my ass and my wide-spread legs burned from being stretched apart so wide. Sweat dripped from my brow and I cursed when Jason started to twist my nipples, too. But overall the only thing I truly felt was an awesome, nasty level of pleasure.

Jason came after only a few minutes and I just pointed at Ron after he pulled out of me. My supposedly sweet brother took Jason’s place right away and with our dad’s cock still up inside my ass he fucked me like a pro even though only a couple of weeks earlier he’d been a virgin. Our dad was content to just bob my body up and down on his prick while my brothers fucked my pussy. When it was Tyler’s turn I screamed at the unmatched fullness of the two biggest dicks in the house rutting my soft body. I came so many times that I lost count. Finally my dad filled my anus with his seed, a wonderful sensation for my depraved body to process, and a moment after that Tyler’s thick dick erupted into my pussy, too.

After that I just laid across the sofa, my head in my dad’s lap, occasionally lapping my tongue across his flaccid penis. He seemed to like that and I definitely did. He and my brothers got drunker and drunker but the only thing I wanted to get intoxicated by was more sex. I got my wish when my dad brought me out to the kennel for another round with the dogs. Ron and Jason had passed out but Tyler was still awake and he’d said he wanted to see the dogs train me. He’d seen one dog fuck me but couldn’t believe I could take all four. I proved him wrong.

I shuddered through more orgasms as I was fucked by the four big mastiffs. Again I became just a bitch dog in heat, a little slut-dog for these dogs. Tyler watched on in awe as they fucked me, one after the other, and I loved every moment of it.

My drunk dad and trashed older brother stumbled out of the kennel after the last of the mastiffs filled up my small teenage body with his doggy-cum. I was left in the enclosed area of the kennel with my canine lovers, sore and exhausted and ready for sleep. I curled up with the mighty animals. I didn’t mind.

I was their bitch dog in heat, and I felt sublime.

xxxxx

I awoke from a terrible nightmare. In it I was tied and bound on the basement toilet again, unable to achieve orgasm, all alone and desperate to cum.

There was no way to tell what time of day it was. Bursting to my feet I felt panic grip my heart and I stumbled away from the dogs, opened the gate, and walked on sore legs out into the rest of the kennel. When I got to its doors I pulled them open and was relieved that it was still dark outside.

The sun was starting to break in the east, though, which meant my family would be leaving soon. I shuddered through the cold as I tramped across the snow-covered ground toward the back door of the house. Sliding it open I cringed with relief when I smelled brewing coffee. They hadn’t left yet.

I went into the kitchen and saw my three tired, hung-over brothers eating cereal at the table. Our dad had a tackle box set up on the counter. He was counting out fishing supplies. No one noticed me at first.

“Up already?” Jason asked. His question got everyone’s attention and they all looked at me.

What a mess I must have appeared to them. Dirt from the kennel all over my skin, sticky dried semen between my legs, my hair an absolute mess. Without thinking about any of that, though, I stammered, “I … please, can I go with you?”

My dad looked surprised. “It’s a boys only trip, Becky,” he said, sounding skeptical. “I’ve left you a credit card. You’ll be fine until tomorrow night…”

“No!” I stammered. Shaking my head in confusion, I tried to figure out what I wanted to say. I walked over to my dad, naked and feeling desperate, and dropped on my knees in front of him. “It’s just, I don’t want to be alone, Daddy. Please, let me come with you! I’ll be your good little whore … please?”

He looked really confused. He started to speak, then looked over at the kitchen table, no doubt gauging my brothers’ reactions. When he looked back down at me he said, “There’s no electricity at the cabin. No TV, no phones. Your brothers and I spend most of the day on the lake and only the fireplace keeps us warm at night.”

“I can keep you warm, too,” I said, truly desperate. “And during the day I can … well, I can do whatever you want. Please…”

“She sounds like she’s whining again, Dad,” Jason said.

“Shut up,” he said. He seemed truly impressed with how desperate I was to stay with them. Finally he said, “Well, it’s up to your brothers. Boys, what do you think?”

“Easy pussy on that God-forsaken lake? Fuck yeah,” Tyler said.

“She’s going to hate it,” Ron added, “but why not? Maybe she can give us blow-jobs while we’re in the shack.”

“Good point,” Jason said, at last. “Blow-jobs while fishing might actually make it fun. Let her come.”

“Alright,” our dad said to me. He gripped my hair and yanked my head up so that I was looking into his eyes. His voice was stern and cold as he said, “But if you end up a nuisance in any way, believe me, you’ll wish you’d stayed home.”

Tears of joy trickled down my face as I promised I wouldn’t be a nuisance. He told me to go shower and pack and I did both in a hurry. Twenty-four hours earlier I had been looking forward to two days alone in the house without sex. Now I’d just begged my father to take me with him and my brothers and he’d relented. So much had changed in such a short amount of time, but I didn’t care.

I wouldn’t go hungry again.

As it turned out, I didn’t. The lake cabin was a miserably cold place and the shack on the frozen lake was even worse. But the blow-jobs I gave warmed me and my family members and whenever I got too horny one of them would bring me back to the cabin and fuck me nice and long. My dad even let me drink with them and that was fun, getting drunk with my brothers and dad for the first time in my life. At night I slept with my dad and his warmth was tingly and exciting. I truly accepted what I was that weekend on the lake, truly accepted I was just a whore. And I was fine with it. It was better to accept what I was than to be left without orgasms, after all.

The high I felt from my new acceptance at my role in life could only last so long, of course. Eventually the shit would hit the fan again. But on the way back home that Sunday night, nestled between Ron and Jason in the backseat of the SUV, all I could think about was how lucky I was that I had such easy access to tremendous orgasms. In the backseat of that SUV I wondered what new depravity might snap me out of this new-found bliss and make me come to my senses. But that voice was small and unconvincing.

I truly felt I’d be happy as my family’s little whore for the rest of my life.

How horribly wrong I ended up being

 

CHAPTER 11

It should go without saying that my new frame of mind had a profound impact on the way I behaved at my new school. I learned quickly that by accepting that I was a slut and a whore, the last measure of control over my perverted desires was stripped away. Life in public school was going to be a lot different than life in a private Catholic school as a result.

The day after returning from the ice-fishing trip with my family I started classes at Rutherford B. Hayes Middle School. It was located across the street from Eisenhower High so my brother Jason added me to his car-pool along with Ron, who was a freshman there, and Jason’s best friend, Jeff, who lived down the street from us. I had to run from the high-school’s parking lot to get to my own building in time to meet with my guidance counselor and be assigned a schedule.

I never got that far. One look at me after I took off my thick winter coat and my counselor, Mrs. Fink, told me that my outfit violated the school’s dress code. She called my dad who had to leave work, and he was furious with me even though he’d been the one to pick out my outfit that morning. I ended up swapping out the micro-skirt he’d told me to wear, which had been too short according to school rules, for a flesh-tight pair of white capri pants. By the time my dad got me back to my new school, first hour was almost over and word had already spread that the “new girl” had sauntered into the building dressed like a slut.

Not that I cared. Even my dad’s promise that I’d be punished for making him miss a couple of hours of work didn’t bother me. In fact, I sort of looked forward to my punishment, just so long as it didn’t involve me not being able to get off.

Even with my less revealing pants my outfit certainly got the attention of most of the boys. That alone was a strange and amazing thing: boys in my classes! I’d only ever attended all-girl schools before and I found myself shuddering at the idea of being stared at by members of the opposite sex. By third hour I’d already had a couple of them flirt with me, but their attempts to “get to know” me were so lame that I practically rolled my large, pretty eyes at them. I didn’t, of course, but that’s how I felt about their awkward and shy come-ons.

It was a fellow eighth-grader named Jessie who finally got my attention. He sat behind me in fifth hour English and he was staring at me the moment I entered the room. I watched him giggle with some of his friends and when I sat down he tapped me on my shoulder and said, “Hey, if I said you had a hot body would you hold it against me?”

His friends laughed at the juvenile line, but I just grinned. “Sure,” I said.

My response surprised him. He was a grungy looking type of boy, the kind of dark-haired, banged up kid that was probably used to being suspended. I enjoyed his reaction to my casual reply. He stammered, “Uhh … you know I meant … hold your, uh…”

” … my body, like my tits and all, against you? Yeah, I got that,” I said, yawning. “And the answer is yes, if you tell me they’re nice I’ll hold them against you.”

Even his giggling friends shut up at that point. I allowed myself a soft, satisfied smile. Finally he tapped me on the shoulder again and, just before the bell rang to signal the beginning of class, he whispered, “You have nice tits!”

I giggled. I was wearing a low-cut sleeveless top. It was red with a big purple star across my tummy. Just as the teacher started to speak I whispered over my shoulder, “Meet me at my locker after class.”

Jessie and his friends followed me at a safe distance after English class ended and I found their timidity sort of cute. When I got to my locker I opened it, pretending that I didn’t know they were right there watching me until finally sighing and turning in place to see the largish boy trying to act nonchalant. I took a step in his direction and without a word lifted my shirt, exposing my bare breasts to him and his friends, and proceeded to crush them against his chest.

“This what you had in mind?” I whispered.

I yanked down my shirt after that and glanced around, wondering how many of the kids in the teeming hall had seen what I’d just done. The idea that everyone had seen filled my stomach with butterflies. Jessie, meanwhile, just stood their looking like he’d just been hit by a truck. His friends were just as shocked but there was jealousy in their eyes as they watched me pull out my sixth hour Math book and saunter away down the hall.

With antics like that, word spread fast that the new girl, Becky Sullivan, didn’t just dress like a slut. She was a slut. Within days I had dozens of horny 13-year-old boys using the same line on me that Jessie had used. Some of them I indulged, others I ignored, depending on my mood. My actions were such that unlike my 8th grade year at St. Mary’s I didn’t want for a place to eat at lunch at Hayes. Boys practically fell over each other trying to get me to join their tables, much to the chagrin of most of my female classmates.

Most except Daisy. At first glance the dark-haired, thick-glasses wearing girl appeared to be a typical bookish loner, I thought. She was in three of my classes but even so it took me over a week to realize she was plenty sociable. Though she usually hung out with only one or two people at a time she was always hanging out with somebody. When she caught me giving one of my already famous “tits pressed against” treats to one of her friends, she caught up with me shortly afterward.

It was just before lunch and I was heading to the cafeteria, a book bag slung over one shoulder and a barely-school-legal dress on my soft, pert body. My dad had studied the school’s rulebook and dress code and had dedicated himself to providing me with outfits that pushed the envelope but that did not violate the school’s rules. It turned out that one of the benefits of having my dad think of me as a slut was that he was willing to spend a fortune on my wardrobe. The dress I was wearing was brand new and had cost over a hundred dollars, but it sure as hell accentuated the budding assets of my developing body. Walking down the hall thinking of lunch, I couldn’t help but realize that practically every boy in the hallway was wishing I was on the menu.

I didn’t see Daisy approach me until she was walking in step beside me. She gripped me in a friendly way on my upper arm and said, “Do you smoke?”

I blinked at her and glanced around the crowded hallway. I’d never spoken a word to the girl before now and only knew her name from teachers taking attendance. I started to say no, then shrugged my shoulders. I hadn’t had a cigarette in a long time but why not? I said, “Sure.”

“Come on,” she said.

She was an attractive girl, I thought, as I followed her into a supply closet. The “Faculty Only” sign didn’t dissuade her so I just followed her on in. She left the light off but it wasn’t dark because plenty of light leaked in from the crack at the bottom of the door. She held my hand and led me to the back of the small supply room and then sat down cross-legged on the floor behind a wire-shelf. I dropped to my knees rather than sit cross-legged, knowing that if I sat the way she did I’d more than likely reveal to her that I wasn’t wearing any panties. My dress was very short, after all.

I studied her as she pulled out a pack of Marlboros from her purse. She lit one without a word and raised a dark eyebrow at me. I said, “Uhm, can I bum one?”

She laughed. “Sure,” she said. She handed me the pack of smokes and I opened them, tapping out a cigarette. Along with the cigarette a small, tightly rolled joint slipped out of the pack. Daisy gasped in surprise.

“Shit!” she said, quickly grabbing the joint and the pack of smokes from my hands. “I forgot that was in there!”

I giggled. “Why not smoke it?” I asked as I lit the Marlboro she’d left me.

Now she giggled. “At school? Are you crazy?”

“Crazier than this?” I said. “Smoking cigarettes in a janitor’s closet?”

She laughed and exhaled a long stream of smoke. “You’d really do it, wouldn’t you? Get high at school?” She tapped her ashes off the top of her cigarette and tilted her head to one side, studying me. “Everyone’s saying you’re pretty crazy. I saw you pushing your tits against Ester a few minutes ago.”

I blinked at her. She laughed in response and said, “Big guy? Blond hair, striped shirt… ?”

“Oh,” I said, laughing. She was talking about the guy I’d just pulled up my dress for before she’d grabbed me. “He seemed nice.”

“Jesus,” Daisy whispered. “You know what? Fuck it. Let’s smoke the J.”

I giggled, and the two of us shared the joint. For the first time since my night with Lee I got stoned. When the joint was burned down to a roach Daisy stamped it out on the concrete floor and slipped it back into her cigarette pack. She said, “Shit, I’ve never been high at school before.”

“Me neither,” I sighed. My body felt numb from the weed and I smiled lazily at the delicious sensation of being stoned.

“So why’re you showing your tits to every guy who asks?” she said. She sounded amused more than anything.

“Not every guy,” I said with a shrug. “But why not?”

She laughed at that and in that moment I realized I’d made a new friend.

The door opened up and we both gasped. A middle aged man pushing a wash-bucket entered the small space. I was positive we were busted when I heard him start sniffing the air. But then he grumbled something under his breath, turned, walked out, and shut the door behind him.

Daisy and I laughed together once he was gone. Our cigarettes long finished, we both stood up when we heard the bell ring. Lunch period was over.

“See you in sixth hour?” she whispered to me when we got to the door. She was referring to the Math class we both shared.

“Sure,” I smiled.

Without a word she pressed her lips against mine. Unused to being kissed, I stood there, stunned. After a moment she pulled away from me, adjusted her glasses, and said, “You taste nice.”

xxxxx

As it turned out, Daisy mostly hung out with high-schoolers from across the street. After sixth hour that day she asked if I wanted to hang out with her and her older friends and I readily agreed. I sent both Jason and my dad a text message to explain I’d be with friends that afternoon, not caring what their response would be. What’s the worst they could do, punish me? Hell, I enjoyed my punishments anyway.

“You’re the new chick who shows everyone her tits,” Daisy’s semi-boyfriend, Craig, told me after I got into his car. He was a junior at Eisenhower and Daisy slapped him playfully after he spoke. Like me, she was also a little stoned, still.

I giggled. “Not everyone,” I said.

When we got to his place the three of us lounged in his living room and he lit up a bong. His parents were total new-agers, he explained, and didn’t mind pot. We were cool, even if they came home early, which he didn’t expect them to.

More of his friends joined us after. Nate, a skinny but intense Sophomore who obviously had the hots for Daisy; Clark, a handsome Junior who I found out right away hated any reference to Superman’s alter-ego; and Vince, another Junior who seemed about as comfortable around me as a mouse in a snake’s cage at feeding time.

We were all pretty stoned before Daisy decided to tell the older boys why she liked me. “She really does go around showing off her tits to anyone who asks,” she blabbered. “I heard she even pressed them against Jessie her first day at Hayes…”

“Jessie Tordin?” Clark asked in disgust. “Mark Tordin’s shit of a brother? Really?”

Everyone was looking at me and I just shrugged. “Yeah, I did. That was sort of a mistake. He’s been harassing me ever since.”

“Course he has,” Daisy laughed. “That jerk’s still a virgin. You gave him the greatest thrill of his life!”

Everyone laughed but I just smiled. “So you’re saying that if I fuck him maybe he’ll stop bugging me?”

“Jesus!” Craig said. “You’d fuck him just to get rid of him?”

“Why not?” I asked after taking another hit from the bong that had been passed back to me.

“Wow,” Nate said. “And I thought Daisy was a slut.”

The room grew quiet. My fellow 13-year-old friend looked sheepish. “What?” I asked.

“She’s just being shy,” Nate said, snuggling up next to me on the sofa. “Don’t let her new relationship fool you. Before she hooked up with Craig, she was our group’s hot little slut.”

“Hey!” Daisy protested. Her boyfriend chuckled.

“Yeah,” Clark added. “Those were the good old days. She used to play games like…”

“Stop it!” Daisy interrupted him, obviously embarrassed. “That’s secret!”

“No!” I cried. I stared at Daisy and almost winked at her. I said, “I want to hear … what kind of games did she play?”

I watched my new friend fall back, defeated, into her boyfriend’s body. She slapped her hand to her forehead and shook her head, obviously not wanting to hear tales from her past. But I wanted to hear, and Nate was all too eager to indulge me. I felt his hand grip me just beneath my right breast. I shifted my body a little to give him better access. Everyone except Daisy was staring at us, and the “thumb’s up” Nate gave the room didn’t go unnoticed by me.

“Before she got serious with Craig,” Nate explained, “our sweet little Daisy used to give blow jobs to the winner of Halo.”

“It’s a shoot-em-up video game,” Clark added enthusiastically. Talking about video-games animated him more than anything else, I eventually learned. “For a few weeks there, every day she’d promise a BJ to whoever won a match.”

“Then she fell in love with Craig,” Nate finished. “Just ’cause he broke her cherry.”

“Hey!” Daisy snapped. “It wasn’t just that! It’s just … I finally found my soul mate … right, honey?”

Craig grinned and kissed her. “Yeah,” the 16 or 17-year-old smiled at her. She hugged herself against his large body and the two kissed. While their tongues intertwined, however, I noticed his eyes remained fixed on me.

I rolled my eyes. “Well, shit. I don’t believe in soul mates,” I said. I was high as hell and just didn’t care. I snuggled up into Nate’s body and brazenly gripped him between his legs. His body went tense and the room grew quiet. Even Daisy was staring at me as I slipped off the couch and crawled between Nate’s spread legs. No one breathed a word as I unzipped his pants, and when his cock came into view my mouth was salivating.

“Clark, can you unzip my dress?” I said, breaking the silent mood of the room.

He did that and more. While I worked Nate’s cock into my mouth Clark unzipped the back of my dress and slid it down and off my body. I wasn’t wearing any underwear, and in my stoned brain this was hot as hell. I felt the older boy’s hands on my soft flesh and I shuddered from the touch. In the distance I heard my cell-phone ring but I ignored the sound. Instead I bobbed my head on the skinny older boy’s cock as everyone else watched on in shock and surprise.

“Fuck me, please,” I begged after taking Nate’s cock out of my mouth. I was speaking to Clark and he knew it. Without a word he took out his hard erection and pushed it against my upthrust lower-half. He plunged into me and I groaned around the dick in my mouth.

Vince, who had been quiet and had seemed nearly passed-out a moment before, said, “Wow.”

“Jesus, Becky,” Daisy added. I ignored both of them. The feeling of a cock that wasn’t related to me inside my pussy was just too much. I came, my mouth salivating around Nate’s penis. When my orgasm subsided I realized my mouth was filling with sperm and I struggled to swallow it all down.

Just then the door to the house opened, and in walked Craig’s mom.

I was mortified. I had a cock in my mouth and another shoved in my pussy. My body froze in place and I stared at the entryway of the house. The middle-aged woman looked at us for a long while, it felt, but then, thankfully, she just bustled up the stairs, leaving us in peace.

“FUCK!” I cried as Clark jammed his cock as deep as it would go inside my tight teenage pussy. He came, filling me with his sperm. I groaned through another orgasm, loving the feel of non-incestuous semen inside my hot cunt.

After it was over I pulled my dress back on and bummed another cigarette from Daisy. Vince, still quiet and seemingly afraid of me, said he had to go. But Nate and Clark joined me back on the sofa, one on either side, each with an arm around my small body. To Craig I said, “Is your mom going to be pissed?”

He shrugged his shoulders and boldly gripped Daisy’s massive breasts through her sweater. “Why would she be?”

I giggled and said, “Uhm, she just saw a strange girl in her living room giving head and getting fucked while you watched?”

He chuckled. “Trust me, my parents are pretty cool. She either won’t mention it or, if she does, she’ll just ask if we’re being safe. She’s caught Daisy and I fucking before and never breathed a word of it.”

“Making love,” Daisy said to him.

“Yeah,” the older boy said.

We hung out for a while after that and I spent most of my time trying to ward off Nate. He wanted to fuck me, he kept saying, but I told him there would be plenty of time for that in the future. After my first non-incestuous orgasm in weeks, I just wanted to relax and enjoy my high. When they realized neither would be getting anything else out of me, both Nate and Clark left, leaving me alone with Craig and Daisy.

They gave me a ride home at around seven that evening, well past dinner-time. We talked in generalities the same way we had the majority of the afternoon during the car ride but, before unlocking the door for me, Daisy said, “You know you’re insane, right?”

I shuddered. “Sure,” I said with a grin.

“Good,” she smiled back. She stroked my hair and pulled my face toward hers. She kissed me for the second time while her boyfriend, her supposed soul mate, watched on. This time I parted my lips and gave her a sloppy, immature kiss back in reply. She said, “Next time it will be … just us three?”

It was a question. Craig nodded first. I blinked, then crushed my lips against hers again by way of reply.

xxxxx

After that I had no shortage of friends. Word spread quickly that I was “easy”.

Jessie Tordin was the first to fully realize this. He brazenly asked me for a blow-job the day after Clark fucked me, and I just sighed, rolled my eyes, and told him to meet me in the boy’s room during fifth hour. He did, and I sucked him off in a stall. When it was over he asked to fuck me and I said that if he had time during lunch the next day I’d be in the supply closet Daisy and I had met in. He did and he fucked me there.

Word got around really fast: Becky Sullivan was a total slut. Requests to see my growing breasts turned into requests for BJ’s or full-on sex. I didn’t often deny such requests, either, because why should I? I liked the attention I was receiving. Besides, there was a part of me that felt obligated to be what my dad and brothers saw me as. If I was going to be a slut and a whore for them, then I would be one for everyone else, too.

Back at home I was being punished for coming home late sometimes, mostly with spankings, but I enjoyed that. The pain was like a price I had to pay to be what was in my nature to be.

My dad liked to grill me about why I’d been late, and I always told the truth. When I told him I’d been fucking some middle-school kid or another, though, he always got angry. It was more jealousy than anything else, I came to realize: though he knew I was a slut, and although he’d encouraged me into becoming a shameless one at that, he sort of felt like I should just belong to him and my brothers. His spankings were especially brutal whenever I told him about fucking some other kid but I could tell he knew that I wouldn’t stop. He was the one who’d finally made me accept that I was a whore and if he regretted creating a monster, well, too bad.

I tried arguing that to my dad one time but he beat my rationalizations out of me by traumatizing my poor young ass. “Your priority is to obey!” he screamed as he spanked my ass until it was so bruised I couldn’t even feel it anymore. Jason was there to watch, and after our dad got tired he took over in my punishment. It was a pretty brutal ass beating, probably the worst I ever endured. Even Daisy noticed the result the next day at school, and asked why I was walking funny.

“No reason,” I told her, wincing as I sat down next to her in the cafeteria. “I just fucked up, is all.”

Even that ass beating didn’t stop me from hanging out with my new friends, though, and getting spanked or being forced to service the dogs became regular daily punishments. I didn’t care. I was having too much fun with my friends, Daisy most of all. She and I became lovers of a sort within a matter of weeks. With her boyfriend’s permission we made love in front of him one day, and then the three of us engaged in a three-way a few days after that. He spent most of his time during the tryst on me but Daisy seemed to understand he was only doing that because I was new to him. She even encouraged him, telling him to fuck me harder, and I just groaned and moaned and begged for more the entire time.

By the time Spring rolled around I was having sex on a regular basis with lots of different guys. Too many to remember, in fact. High-schoolers, Middle-schoolers, their relatives, anyone and everyone who wanted to be with me. Sex and orgasms became a blur, a drug, and an expected part of my daily routine. Everyone knew that if they wanted to lose their virginal status all they had to do was ask me out, and I rarely turned down anyone. When I did it was usually because I already had someone else scheduled.

It was sort of an open secret at my school that I gave out sex like most girls gave out hugs. More than a couple teachers even took advantage of that, but none of those encounters were particularly memorable. Suffice to say, I was the biggest slut in all of Ohio, and I was okay with that.

I don’t remember when I stopped taking the Pill, or why. Maybe a part of me wanted to get pregnant. Maybe a part of me knew I had to in order to stop my downward spiral. Most likely, though, I just stopped giving a damn.

xxxxx

One day, in early Spring, I was walking home with a couple of friends. We parted ways at the Silver Star Liquor Store and I sighed, looking at the place. I was tempted to go inside and buy some more smokes, but I was down to five dollars in my purse. Instead of stopping I headed toward my house.

A white van pulled up next to me. At first I didn’t notice it, but then its passenger side window rolled down. “Get in, whore,” a voice said.

I knew that voice. I stopped walking and the van stopped moving. The man in the idling vehicle was none other than Daniel, my former master.

At first I froze at the sight of him. I hadn’t seen him in months, not since I’d been taken away from him by Ty and Lee that horrible, necessary day. Somehow he didn’t seem so scary anymore. He didn’t come across as so intimidating. He just looked like a fat, washed up old man with slicked back hair and a fatigued demeanor. I said to him, “What?”

“Get in,” he ordered me.

There was still a part of me that wanted to regress to the scared little girl he’d once dominated, and I found myself moving toward the van. I stopped when I realized how silly I was being. Daniel had nothing on me, no control and no power. When this fully dawned on me I started laughing. I said, “You’re not my master anymore, asshole!”

His face grew red with fury. “I finished paying off the, ahh, Four-Oh last week,” he simmered. “Get in. You’re mine again.”

“Fuck that!” I spat. The last thing I wanted was to be his slave again and fuck that disgusting body of his. Besides, I had my brothers to please, now, my father to please. Not to mention my many boyfriends at school. Realizing this, I started laughing. I said, “I’m not yours! I’m no one’s, now, but my family’s!”

His fat face looked confused. I sauntered over to the window and said, “You heard me. I’m my family’s whore now. I’ll never be yours again, Daniel.” I drew out his name with contempt in my voice, then kicked at the door of his van. “Go, go on! Get the fuck out of here before you make me call the cops and report a stalking asshole pervert! I swear I will.”

The van sped away after that. I felt good.

When I got home I felt terrified.

xxxxx

Daniel’s van was parked in my driveway. It had to be his. There was no mistaking it.

“Finally,” my dad said after I entered the house. “You know this man?”

My body trembled with fear. The man my daddy was referring to was Daniel. He was sitting on one of our recliners, in the living room, and he was smiling at me.

My dad said to me, “Get me your Book of Sins. Now.”

I paused. Tears trickled out of my eyes.

“NOW!” he demanded.

Without a word I jumped to obey my father and bounded up the stairs, went into my bedroom, and produced the book. It’d been my secret all this time but it wasn’t any longer. What else had Daniel told my dad? I returned to him a trembling and nervous mess for the first time in months.

A few minutes later my dad was shaking his head in dismay. “Masturbating since you were ten… ,” he said. “Lost your virginity to the dogs. My fucking dogs.”

I whimpered and cried. He now knew all my secrets, and so did Daniel. It probably shouldn’t have mattered but for some reason it did.

“I bet she’s kept it up to date, too,” Daniel said. “Look up ‘incest’. I bet the, ahh, last entry is the last time you fucked her.”

My face blushed red with embarrassment. Daniel was right, I had kept the book up to date. For some reason I’d felt I had to. I watched my dad leaf through the pages of the book, find the proper entry, and shake his head.

“Fucking whore,” he whispered.

“Please,” I begged.

“No!” He said. He stood and charged at me, striking me hard across the mouth. I reeled from the pain and fell to the floor.

He was breathing heavily above me. He said, “Now I know, now I know the whole story. Fuck, fuck, you really are the biggest whore in the world. Aren’t you? AREN’T YOU!?”

He had tears in his eyes. So did I while I sputtered, tasting blood in my mouth, and said, “I-I-I’m s-sorry…”.

“Worthless piece of shit!” my dad spat. “Hiding this from me! You’re nothing but a god-damned conniving, lying little slut of a brat!”

“True, but she can, ahh, make us a fortune,” Daniel whispered.

“Yes,” my dad moaned. I cringed when he went to strike me again, but he paused. Looking at Daniel he said, “What do you mean? How?”

“Simple,” Daniel replied. He explained how my young body could make them both rich and my dad nodded his head slowly at first before eying me with a nasty expression in his stare. I crawled up onto my knees and placed my hands on them, then just stared at my fingernails, refusing to look back at him or Daniel. I listened to the two men discuss how I could make them money and felt perhaps the final part of my innocence die inside.

The truth was that ever since I’d first become Daniel’s slave I’d known it would come to this. He’d never kept it secret that he was “training” me for something. There had been hints about what that “something” was buried in my Book of Sins. Now I knew for sure what it was and the thought filled me with revulsion. It was one thing to be a slut for my dad and brothers and countless kids at school. But what Daniel was proposing would make me a slut for the entire world.

“Let’s start right now,” my dad said.

My tears dried up while Daniel went out to his van to get his equipment.

xxxxx

“And you’re sure the FBI won’t be kicking in my door because of this?” my dad said uncertainly. He was definitely excited at the prospect of putting his little girl in an amateur porn movie, but in the thirty minutes or so since Daniel had started setting up the lights and camera he’d actually started thinking about the possible consequences of doing so.

“The people I’ll be, ahh, selling to,” Daniel explained while adjusting one of the lights, “would never, ahh, share such material. They’d go to jail if they were found with it, after all.”

He went on to explain to my dad that he had connections from the Internet, and his time as a video store owner, who he could trust to distribute movies of me in a discreet and secure manner. “We’ll start with a, ahh, little introduction video,” he said. “Something rather tame to get people, ahh, interested. Then we’ll move into the truly hard-core.”

“How hard-core?” my dad asked. He had an intense look in his eyes. Greed mixed with lust, perhaps.

“The harder the, ahh, better,” Daniel grinned. “I’m sure this little slut can handle anything. I started her training, after all, and from you, ahh, told me, she’s continued along well during my absence…”

After everything was set up Daniel selected a cute pair of pink panties and a matching bra and told me to put them on. For some reason changing in front of him was embarrassing even though he’d seen me naked plenty of times before. Part of it was that my dad was there and having him see me obey Daniel so completely made me feel strange. If he was jealous that I would defer to someone other than him, though, he didn’t show it. If anything he seemed to like watching me obey this fat, ugly man. He just nodded after Daniel told me to put on one of my favorite pajama outfits, a lavender long-sleeved top and matching bottoms. Then I was told to lay back on my bed and suck on my thumb like a baby.

“Ahh, perfect,” Daniel said, sounding pleased. “She looks like a beautiful little angel. What shall her, ahh, stage name be?”

They debated that for a while. At first my dad thought I should just be called Becky to keep things simple, but Daniel argued that for security reasons I had to use a pseudonym. He suggested Goldie, because of my hair, but my dad didn’t like that name. It seemed like they would spend forever arguing about my name when Jason and Ron returned home.

Our dad filled them in about what we were doing and Jason was ecstatic. He said he wanted to be in the movies, too, and Daniel said that eventually everyone, including himself, would be. For right now, though, they had to record my introduction movie and they still needed a stage name for me. Jason quickly offered “Julia” but Daniel said it wasn’t unique enough and the debate erupted anew, this time with Jason’s opinions thrown into the mix.

“How about ‘Desp’?” Ron suddenly suggested. Everybody looked at him. He explained, “Short for ‘desperate’? I mean, she always gets that look of desperation on her face when she’s about to cum, like she needs it more than anything in the world…”

“Desp,” Daniel said, trying it out. “What do, ahh, you think?”

My dad nodded. “Yeah, ‘Desp’ ain’t bad. Ain’t bad at all. Let’s go with that.”

With the debate settled, Daniel finally explained to me what I was to do in this first video. It wasn’t very complicated. The hardest part, actually, was trying to look happy. I had to dig deep inside myself to pull off that lie but somehow I managed. Daniel started recording me on my bed, a big pretty smile on my face while my dad and brothers watched on.

“My name is Desp, and I love bedtime most of all!” I chirped to the camera. As instructed I made a show of sort of rolling my small body across my covers, allowing my top to ride up just a little bit to reveal a teasing patch of skin. “My body always gets so warm at night, I just have to take off my PJ’s.”

I slid up to my knees and slowly unbuttoned the front of my loose cotton top. I remembered Daniel’s golden rule while doing so and kept my eyes locked on the camera. Slowly I slipped off my top then stretched in a good, long yawning motion while he recorded every inch of me. I then slipped back onto my butt and removed my pajama bottoms in a slow, teasing motion.

Daniel had to stop recording at several points to give me instructions, but mostly he just let me move around any way I wanted. The point of the video was to introduce me to his world of paying pedophiles. He wanted to whet their appetites for more. Basically I just played around on my bed for half an hour, only removing my bra and panties at the very end before laying on my back and spreading my legs wide.

Daniel told me to slowly press my hand down the length of my body until it reached my bald pussy, and I followed his instructions to the letter. I have to admit that by this point I was actually getting turned on. The thought that a bunch of nasty old perverts would be jerking off to this made me grow damp. When I touched myself between my legs I purred with pleasure. After spreading my pussy lips open, though, Daniel returned the camera to my face, which was the cue for me to say my closing line.

“Time for me to go to sleep, everybody,” I said with an genuine sound of desire in my voice. “Remember, my name is Desp. Maybe next time you can join me?”

“Perfect,” Daniel said. Like my dad and brothers he was breathing hard as he turned off the camera. “Very, ahh, sexy. I’ll send this one out for free. Trust me within, ahh, days I’ll have dozens of orders for more.”

“Good, good,” my dad said. “Becky, give your old ‘master’ a blow job to thank him.”

Nodding, I slipped out of bed and got on my knees in front of the fat man. With my dad, Ron, and Jason looking on I unzipped the man’s pants and began sucking him off. After a minute of that my brothers appeared at either side of me with their dicks out, too. Without needing to be told I used my hands on them while Daniel’s sweaty cock filled my mouth. It didn’t take him very long to get off. After he did, my dad asked him to join him downstairs for a beer. The two men left me and my brothers alone.

After our dad was gone, Jason wanted my ass. Ron wanted my pussy. They decided to take me like that at the same time. At no point did I resist.

I was, after all, used to being a whore by now. A whore for everyone.

 

CHAPTER 12

Two days later Daniel’s prediction proved true. He had 33 orders already for more videos of me and it was time to start recording the hard-core scenes.

Jason was my first on-screen partner. As a precaution Daniel told him to wear a ski-mask to hide his identity, an idea my brother didn’t much care for. He asked why he had to hide his identity if I didn’t have to and Daniel explained, “Your sister’s face is what, ahh, sells her as being a young girl. Her breasts are too big for a true child and her body is, ahh, nearly too developed for some of my customers. But her face, ahh, that still has a childish glow to it. You, on the other hand, your face isn’t necessary. It’d be foolish to unnecessarily risk exposing it to the audience.”

Grumbling at first, Jason agreed to wear the mask, and with my other two brothers and father watching on Daniel recorded us while we fucked on my bed. It was strange having sex under the hot lights Daniel had set up and the constant interruptions kept almost killing the mood, too. Daniel would stop us to adjust where I put my hands or how Jason had my legs splayed. Sometimes he’d just tell Jason to freeze so he could get a good close up of his cock buried in my pussy and that could be agonizing. It reminded me of the time I’d been tied up to the downstairs toilet: I’d get close to cumming and then I was suddenly interrupted. In the end I sort of had to fake my orgasm for the camera because Jason was getting ready to explode.

Daniel had instructed him not to cum inside me. While I squeaked and groaned in feigned orgasmic delight he pulled out of me and I quickly scrambled up to my knees to lick him to climax so the camera could record a “money shot” of his cock exploding across my face. After it did I waved with a fake smile on my face and reminded the audience of my name, “Desp”, and invited them to “see me again sometime”.

As soon as Daniel announced the scene had been perfect, and he turned off the camera, my father got onto the bed with me. With my brother’s cum still coating my face he roughly fucked my juiced-up cunt. It didn’t take me long to finally have a real orgasm. Hearing Daniel joke with my brothers about how desperate I looked to climax only made it easier for me to do so. After only a few minutes my dad came inside me and his hot sperm made me shudder again from head to toe.

The rest of that day was spent servicing the men in my life– Daniel, my dad, and my brothers– however they wanted. A few days after that Daniel presented my father with an envelope stuffed full with cash. I had no idea at the time how much was in it, but I knew it had to be a lot because he gave each of my brothers $300 from it and even gave me a share, too.

“A proper whore should get paid for her work,” he told me as he folded the three bills into my palm. Though I was glad to receive the money I knew he was only giving it to me to further shame me for what I had become.

xxxxx

The last marking period of the school year was nearing and my grades weren’t exactly stellar, but they were passing at least. At home I was making about one movie a week with Daniel and my family, some hard-core and some surprisingly gentle. Daniel spoke constantly about how well the movies were selling and he backed up his claims with regular payments to my father. Each envelope appeared to be thicker than the last but my dad always gave me the same amount from them: $300. For some reason I couldn’t spend any of the money, though. There were things I would have loved to buy, of course, but each time I considered using the cash on myself the thought made me sick. I was a total whore, and I knew it, but somehow spending my whore-earned dollars made it all too real. So instead of using the money I stuffed it into a rusted-out lamp-pole on my suburban street. It wasn’t a particularly safe place to keep the cash but I barely cared.

On the first day of the last marking period of the school year I joined Jessie Tordin and his friends in the cafeteria, much to Daisy’s annoyance. Daisy hated the dark-haired and rumpled boy and his group of friends but they’d sort of become my regular clique to hang out with at lunch. None of Daisy’s middle-school friends shared our lunch period, after all, and of course her boyfriend Craig and his friends attended the high school across the street.

What really annoyed Daisy about sitting with Jessie and his group at lunch was that they all thought she was like me. They constantly hit on her and copped feels without permission, thinking she shouldn’t care since I obviously didn’t.

“Stop it, I’m trying to eat!” she shrieked when Dale, Jessie’s side-kick, reached out and grabbed one of her breasts.

I laughed and so did everyone else at the table. Jennifer, the only other girl in our lunch group, had a hand down my shorts and all the boys were aware of this. The fact that Daisy would get annoyed by a simple groping of her tits was amusing by comparison.

Jennifer was a slightly overweight blond 7th grader who had idolized me for weeks. An ex-girlfriend of Jessie’s, she viewed my total sluttiness as something to aspire toward. I didn’t dissuade her from that course but I didn’t exactly encourage it, either. She seemed to enjoy touching me in public, though, and had grown more and more bold over the last few days.

“Check out the new girl!” she giggled as her hand finally made my naked pussy turn moist.

At first I thought she was talking about me. I’d been attending Hayes for months, but a lot of people still referred to me as “the new girl”. But then I noticed everyone at our table looking across the cafeteria and I followed their stares. Across the room, sitting by herself, was a very pretty 8th grader being harassed by The Stack. The girl looked like she was about to cry and The Stack looked like she was aiming for a fight.

“Yeah, she’s in my first hour,” Desmond, another of the boys sitting at my table, said. He sounded bored. “She’s a stuck-up bitch.”

“Then she deserves it,” Jennifer purred. Whispering into my ear she added, “You like this?”

I did. The feeling of the younger girl’s hand on my cunt was amazing. But I was preoccupied by this new girl and the terrified look about her in the wake of The Stack’s presence. There was something about her that seemed familiar, like I knew her from somewhere…

“Careful!” I groaned. Jennifer’s eager hand had pressed between the folds of my sex a bit too hard.

“Sorry,” she snickered.

I kept my eyes on The Stack as the 7th grader inexpertly fingered my twat. Everybody at the table had their eyes on me and Jennifer again but mine were fixed on the poor, terrified looking girl facing The Stack’s wrath across the cafeteria. How did I know her?

“Oh!” I groaned, a sound of pleasure and realization. Jennifer, the 7th grader, had just plunged a finger inside my hole just as I realized who the tormented girl was. I immediately gripped the 12-year-old’s arm and pulled her away from me. I stood up from my seat at the table and, since I had never stopped anyone from doing anything to me before, this confused my friends.

“Where’re you going?” I heard Jessie say. Jennifer and Daisy also raised their voices in alarm as I strode across the lunchroom in the direction of The Stack and her would-be victim.

Brandi “The Stack” Lemming got her nickname from the size of her tits. They were massive, as was the rest of her body. Nearly six feet tall, the large girl hardly belonged in the 8th grade. It would make more sense for her to be in a prison cell somewhere, actually. Mean and tough, the dykish brunette loved to bully. She’d tried to bully me in the past but I was no fun for her. When she accused me of being a slut I just said, “So?”. When she accused me of fucking half the boys in our grade I replied by saying the number was probably closer to two-thirds. Since nothing she ever said to me got me upset, and since I never let her see me sweat, she’d long since stopped bothering me.

The girl she was picking on right now, though, was on the verge of tears. She looked miserable and scared. Part of me wanted to enjoy her predicament since, in a past life, she’d made things miserable for me. But I felt a strange sense of loyalty to her. After all, we were both former students of St. Mary the Immaculate.

“BITCH!” The Stack yelled at the girl, throwing her tray of food off the table. “I asked you a fucking question!”

“Back off, Brandi,” I told the giant-sized 8th grader.

She looked at me, as did her victim. Both of them look confused. Brandi said, “This don’t concern you, Becky…”

“Jody’s my friend,” I informed The Stack. “So yeah, it does.”

The dykish bitch laughed without humor. Behind me my friends were standing, I knew, ready to back me up if the giant bitch turned violent. Realizing their presence, The Stack muttered something unintelligible and stormed off.

“Thanks,” Jody whispered. I invited her back to my table and she readily agreed. I gave her the rest of my lunch and she ate it.

xxxxx

After school my former nemesis cried in my arms. “It’s awful!” she moaned. “This place is so awful! How do you deal with it, how?”

I stroked her hair and hushed her in a gentle tone of voice. We were sitting beneath the bleachers on the school’s soccer field. I said, “It’s not that bad. You’ll get used to it…”

“Used to it?” she groaned. “How? Everyone is so mean and dumb and nasty!”

She went on to tell me that she’d been kicked out of St. Mary the Immaculate’s because she’d been caught cheating on a Biology test. She insisted that she’d only been caught because sweet, demure Melissa, our former mutual friend, had told on her. Though I comforted the former high-and-mighty girl who had made my life hell at our former Catholic school, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride that Melissa, who had always been kind to me, had been the cause of Jody’s fall from grace.

“They’re letting me finish the semester here,” Jody whimpered. “My parents promise they’ll find me a decent school next year but I don’t think I’ll make it. All these jerks, these morons! I mean, anybody can go to public school. Anybody! They let anybody in, like that, that … troll, Brandi! Did you see what she did with my lunch in the cafeteria? This place is like a third-world country, Beck. I just can’t take it…”

She was oblivious to the fact that she was insulting me. I was, by her own words, one of those “anybodies” who could get into public school. But I didn’t feel insulted. Instead, I felt powerful. She’d been mean to me back at St. Mary’s but now our roles were totally reversed. Here at Hayes I was the one with the friends, the one who wasn’t socially awkward. Here at Hayes she was the fish out of water, the one who didn’t fit in, the one who had no friends. The realization made me feel strong.

Her breasts were still smaller than mine but they had grown since I’d last seen her. They’d grown well, in fact, and they looked delicious. As she moaned and sobbed about how horrible public school was I found myself staring at them. Out of nowhere a wicked idea entered my head and, while she continued her rant, I gripped her right tit in my hand. At first it was as though she didn’t notice. When she did she finally shut up and I felt her body stiffen.

I said, “I’ll help you get through the marking period…”

She didn’t resist at first, but then she did, pulling away and gasping from my touch. “What!?” she cried.

I lost any sense of sympathy for her at that point. She’d made my life hell at St. Mary’s just because her handsome brothers had been turned on by the sight of me in a bathing suit. Just because I’d developed faster than she had. If Melissa had been strong enough to get her kicked out of St. Mary’s then I was definitely strong enough to show the bitch her place at Hayes.

I pushed her down into the dirt beneath the bleachers. She struggled against my hold but seemed more shocked than resistant. Even though I was small I was strong enough to control her in her current state. Jody had absolutely no idea what was going on, as was evidenced by the look of shock on her face.

Pushing my hand against her shorts I said, “You want this, you stupid cunt!”

My words echoed those of my father and my former master before him, but I didn’t care. I don’t know what came over me except that I felt this huge surge of power and it felt really, really good … especially after she groaned against my touch. I pulled her shirt up her body and began to nibble her left tit with abandon. She had large, dark nipples that grew hard seconds after I began to eat them. For a while she made a pretense of resisting me but then she just allowed her virgin body to relax at my forceful touch. She was simply too terrified and disoriented to put up a real fight.

For the first time in my life I knew what it was to completely dominate someone, to take advantage of someone, and it felt good. I felt high and giddy as I played with her body and she did nothing to stop me. She was no longer resisting in any meaningful way when I unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down her long, pubescent legs along with her underwear. I buried my fingers in her pussy after that, and was pleased when I felt her grow damp from my expert touch. I continued to nibble her tits while she simply whimpered in the dirt, confused and scared by my actions.

All this made me so aroused that I suddenly stood up. After pulling down my shorts I squatted over her pretty face and demanded, “Eat me.”

She panted as I ground my young cunt into her face. When I let her breathe she said, “I don’t … please, stop, I don’t know how!”

I leaned forward and dug my hands into the dirt at her sides. Nestling my pussy into her face, I bent over and sniffed her young cunt then bit her clit. She screamed.

“Figure it out,” I whispered before returning to her fuzzy vaHolly.

She did. Within moments my former enemy was eating out my twat with an eagerness generated by fear, a sensation I was all too familiar with. Meanwhile I made sure to keep her on the brink of orgasm without quite letting her get there. Her beautiful young body kept gyrating beneath my own for nearly twenty minutes before I felt too sorry to not give her the climax I knew she now craved. I thrust my tongue deep inside her delicious tasting hole and rubbed my forefinger against her clit. She came and I reveled at the taste of her orgasm, even as her own inexpert tongue worked its way across my slit.

After that I came, too. My orgasm was more the result of my actions than hers, though. In the dark recesses of my brain I knew I was practically raping her and that turned me on more than anything I’d experienced in a while. Another entry for my Book of Sins, I thought.

When we were both done cumming I laid down next to her. I gripped her body, holding her small breasts and sculpting my body against hers. She no longer seemed to care that we were laying literally on dirt, or that our naked bodies were out in the open. Jody just sighed as I massaged her breasts beneath the bleachers, loving the feeling of her soft round ass against my naked and wet crotch.

xxxxx

Jody’s transformation after that was amazing. Her behavior reminded me of the stories you hear about new convicts in prison shacking up with someone strong to protect them. She basically became my bitch, doing whatever I wanted her to do in order to remain safe from other students like The Stack. On her second day with me she squealed in horror when Jessie started groping her at my locker. When I told her she’d better get used to it she relented. An hour later I showed her how to give her first blow-job in the maintenance closet. When she hesitated at the sight of the greasy boy’s cock I twisted her hair until she screamed in pain. Jessie just laughed as he thrust his prick inside my former nemeses’ mouth.

Two days after that, on a Friday afternoon, she joined me at my house. When we got to my bedroom she said, “Where’s your door?”

I giggled. “I don’t have one,” I told the confused girl. Growing serious I said, “Strip.”

She did. My former enemy, the girl who had made my life a living Hell on Earth at St. Mary’s, took off all her clothes without question. Once she was fully naked she closed her eyes but I told her to open them, and she did. She tried to cross her slender arms over her barely-existent boobs but I told her not to, and she followed my orders.

“Do you want to make out?” I asked her.

She looked horribly embarrassed at first and when she answered it sounded like a question. “Yes?” she said.

I just smiled and took off my own clothes before patting the place next to me on my mattress.

It was innocent, at first, the way we kissed. There were four feet on the floor as I kissed her and she kissed me back. I wasn’t trying to rape her or hurt her, I simply enjoyed being with her. I sighed as she felt my breasts and I felt hers. It was lovely and sort of sweet but memories of the torments I’d gone through in my life filled my head and caused me to become mean.

Why should she enjoy loving, consensual sex? She’d treated me like shit back at St. Mary’s and now she was at my mercy. Realizing this, an overpowering part of me decided that I should use her and treat her as badly as I’d been treated by my dad and others. Practically raping her beneath the bleachers and commanding her to suck Jessie off at school was only the tip of the iceberg as far as I was concerned, I realized.

I wanted to make her suffer the way I had suffered.

To that end I was about to escalate our activities when we heard the downstairs door open. Making a sound of shock she tried to pull away from me, wanting to get dressed again. I held her tight, though, and growled into her ear while twisting one of her nipples. She squealed in pain and relented but I felt her body trembling from head to toe. I focused my hand on her pussy, tickling her there, trying to make her cum. Despite her embarrassment I knew she would soon. I purposely gasped and threw my head of soft, blond hair across her small young tits. She groaned and accepted my kisses.

I knew what was coming. I could hear the heavy footsteps on the stairway. I got more and more excited and more and more determined to get this stupid bitch worked up for what I now realized would be the main event of the afternoon.

“Jody.”

I froze with my fingers in Jody’s cunt. She simply panted and whimpered with fear. My dad was in the doorway to my room and he looked serious.

“Oh, oh!” Jody whispered in fear and shock.

My dad ignored her protests. He was on her in moments, even as she begged to go home. With one look from him I knew what he wanted me to do and I was actually glad. I helped hold her down while she struggled weakly against my father’s large body.

“No, please, Becky!” she screamed as I pinned her arms to the bed. “I–I’m a virgin! Don’t … help me!”

I giggled evilly. “Don’t help you?” I mocked. “No problem.”

“Love me a no-cherry virgin,” my dad grunted. “This is that old friend of yours, ain’t she? Well, go one, kiss her while I plug her little hole.”

Without a word and while Jody cried I obeyed my dad’s command and pressed my lips upside-down against Jody’s mouth. I took her scream into my mouth while I pinned her weak, struggling arms at her sides and my dad plugged her virgin hole.

After a moment I couldn’t resist anymore. I looked up and watched in fascination while he plunged his terrible cock into the small 13-year-old. She started to cry again after only a few thrusts and I giggled humorlessly. I kissed her again before moving my mouth down to her large nipples. While my dad fucked her I bit down, hard, upon it. I drew blood and it tasted divine.

Jody screamed but it was a scream of lust and wanton depravity.

After that scream she just lay there in a daze, staring up into my merciless eyes. My father was rutting in and out of her with abandon and I knew she was just starting to enjoy it. I whispered in her ear, “It’s okay to cum, you little slut…”.

Speaking those words made me tingle all over.

Her body started to buck in time with my dad’s thrusts shortly after that. I no longer had to hold her arms down so instead I gripped her hands and they gripped mine back but she wasn’t trying to push me away anymore. She was simply holding on to me for dear life as her young body experienced its first all-encompassing orgasm. I grinned at her knowingly as she came down from her climax.

My dad had his own orgasm shortly after that. When he finished cumming inside of her I sucked his sperm out of Jody’s cunt and managed to give her another small orgasm. The girl was so tired and worn out that she barely moved during it, but her soft cries of pleasure let me know when she got off.

“Hot little piece,” my dad said as he zipped himself up.

I cuddled Jody after he left and it was a long time before either of us spoke. She broke the silence by saying, “I can’t believe … have you … I…”

Giggling at her apparent shyness I whispered, “Call your parents and ask to spend the night.”

She groaned. “Yes, y-yes … okay, but … why?”

“Because I have a really long story I want to share with you,” I said with a smile. “I’ll need a lot of time to tell you it.”

xxxxx

Jody became a regular over at my house after that night. It turned out that for all the bluster and stuck-up nature she’d possessed at St. Mary’s she was actually a born victim, just like me. She never needed to be warned not to tell on my dad or my brothers or Daniel. Even when we first brought her to the kennel and gave her to the dogs she didn’t so much as threaten to tell her parents.

She was like a chameleon adapting to a new environment. Where she’d once appeared to be a snobbish and self-assured bitch she now took on the colors of a terrified, willing slut. She needed me to protect her and help get her through the last marking period at Hayes so she became like me. She became what I wanted her to be. The truth is that I didn’t even have to try very hard to get her there, either.

A week after my dad fucked her she joined me in one of Daniel’s movies. He’d made it clear to me that she was going to do this so I, in turn, made it clear to her. She didn’t resist and I shot my first underage lesbian movie with her. After that she was in practically every movie, getting fucking by my dad and brothers and Daniel along with me. Daniel even put her in some scenes where I wasn’t present. He said he could start another “franchise” with her by doing this and my dad readily agreed.

Her stage name became “Mary Saint”. That was my choice and when I explained my reasons for it everyone thought it was funny.

Back at Hayes High School the boys we were hanging out with now had three girls to grope and request sexual favors from. Jennifer, the 7th grader who looked up to me for some reason, rounded out our group but eventually she got caught giving a teacher a blow-job. It was a really big controversy and she disappeared under the ensuing media firestorm. That left just me and Jody for a little while.

Daisy drifted away from our group during the height of our raunchiness. I think she felt slighted by the sudden presence of Jody. After Jennifer went away, though, she returned when Craig, her high school boyfriend, broke up with her. She felt alone and upset and I took advantage of her state of mind. I wish I could say I was there for her as a friend but to be honest I just wanted to see her finally debase herself the way I always had. She went along with it and soon she became as big a slut in my group of friends as Jody and I already were.

A couple weeks before the end of the school year the three of us became known as “The Three Suck-it-eers” because even Daisy was giving blow-jobs out on a regular basis, now. In fact, Daisy gave the most overt blowjob any of us ever gave when she blew a shy, awkward kid named Bill LaCar during a student assembly. At least a couple dozen kids witnessed the whole thing while the principal addressed the student assembly, oblivious to what was transpiring before him in the throngs of students. I think Daisy did that just to prove to me she “belonged” in my group of friends.

But she didn’t. She wasn’t like me, or Jody, or even the now-absent seventh grader, Jennifer. She wasn’t a born victim like the rest of us. I kept her close, of course, but I never did bring her home.

Everything was good, as far as I was concerned. Summer was almost upon us and my rusted out lamp-pole was rich with the money I was still stuffing inside it every week or so. Jody was my bitch and Daisy was sort of my friend again. I actually felt happy. I was having orgasms whenever I wanted them and sometimes even when I didn’t, but even those didn’t bother me. My dad still punished me whenever I came home late but I sometimes did that intentionally. I felt lucky, so lucky, to be living the life I was living because it made me feel happy.

My luck never lasted long back then, though, when it came to happiness. I learned this just as the school year ended.

xxxxx

I found out I was pregnant on the last day of school of my 8th grade year.

Not wanting to believe or even consider it a possibility at first, I did what any 13-year-old would do: I ignored it. I ignored the fact I hadn’t had my period, which usually clicked over like clockwork. I’d been blessed with short and sweet periods ever since I started having them, so I knew this one was ridiculously overdue. Though the time of month was correct nothing happened. No swelling, no blood, no need for the usual hygiene products. But at first I pretended I’d had it and had simply forgotten about it.

Or it had been an incredibly short, even for me, period. Or I’d been too high during that week to remember going through it. Or it was still going to come and was simply a bit late. Or, or, or…

Ignoring the facts got harder. I tried to ignore the fact that my instinctive impulse was to stop smoking pot or cigarettes with Daisy and Jody and Jessie, for instance. Instead I smoked even more. I tried to ignore the fact that my breasts were beginning to swell and my orgasms were growing more intense. I was just going through a phase, I told myself.

Sometimes I cried myself to sleep without knowing why.

Daisy was the first person to suggest the truth. One day, after masturbating while watching her fuck Jessie, she told me I was practically glowing.

“Well, I just came!” I laughed, not understanding what she meant at first.

“No, it’s different than that,” Daisy said with a grin. “You remind me of my sister when she was pregnant with my nephew.”

“What?” I said, ashen-faced.

“I’m kidding,” she said. But I didn’t believe her. She had a certain look in her eyes. She knew.

Nate, one of her ex’s best friends who still hung out with us after school, fucked me a few moments after that. I just grunted through it, worrying about Daisy’s words. After he came inside me I wanted to go home. Clark agreed to give me a ride but on the way home I asked him to stop at a convenience store. What he didn’t know, and I didn’t tell him, was that I wanted to buy a pregnancy test.

In the relative privacy of the upstairs bathroom back at home I peed on the stick and discovered I was, indeed, pregnant. I cried myself to sleep that night even when Ron joined me in bed just after midnight. Usually I enjoyed his love-making. Of my three brothers he was easily the most gentle and he seemed to actually care about getting me off. That night, though, I just sobbed as he did everything he could to get me worked up. When none of his attentions worked he just started fucking me hard until he finally ejaculated inside me.

The next morning my dad informed me over breakfast that I’d be making a new movie that day. Daniel would be over by noon and he wanted to record yet another movie of me masturbating. He wanted Jody there, too, to lick my nipples while I made myself cum.

I whimpered and sobbed.

“What?” my dad asked. He dropped his fork and raised his voice, confused and angry. It’d been a long time since I’d shown any resistance to any of his plans. He yelled, “What!”

“I can’t!” I cried. I bolted from the breakfast table and ran up to my room.

Minutes later he had the truth of my situation out of me.

“Pregnant,” he said, dumbstruck.

I sobbed.

“You’re sure?” he said.

“Pretty sure,” I moaned.

He didn’t seem to know what to do or what to say. He ended up leaving me alone in my room and I found him later drinking Scotch straight from the bottle. Daniel was with him at the kitchen table and it was obvious they were discussing me.

“Like I said, it’s not that bad,” the fat, balding man explained. “It will make for, ahh, good movies.”

“I don’t get it,” my dad said. He was staring at me while he spoke, his voice slurred. “How can that help the movies? I’d thought…”

“You kidding?” Daniel said. He was eying me now, too. “Cute little teenager, ahh, all knocked up? That’s even better than the, ahh, lesbian scenes with that slut friend of hers! We can charge a fortune for them, you’ll see…”

The greed overcame my dad. He ended up agreeing with Daniel and suddenly abortion was out of the question.

Neither man seemed to care about who the father of my child was. It never even came up during their conversation about my “condition”. Ultimately they decided that my baby would be given up for adoption after it was born and that I would claim I’d lost my virginity to a stranger. Meanwhile, Daniel wanted even more footage of me having sex. They told me to call Jody and tell her to come over and, of course, I obeyed. We ended up shooting yet another lesbian movie together and then, when my brothers got home, we also did an orgy scene.

The next day my brothers were told about my condition and Jason seemed to think it was funny. Ron was worried he was the father but Tyler reassured him by pointing out that with all the guys I was fucking on a regular basis the odds were pretty low.

That much was true, at least. I figured there was probably just a one in ten chance the father was related to me, given the amount of boys I was fucking regular during the time I’d most likely gotten knocked up. Still, there was always that fear in the back of my head that I would be giving birth to my own niece or nephew or, worse even, my own brother or sister. I often cried myself to sleep over that worry.

My father ended up waiting a month before bringing me to see a doctor. During the week leading up to that visit I was forbidden from having sex, which was frustrating for me. Despite being pregnant, or maybe because of it, I found myself achieving some of the best orgasms of my life. Daniel had been making new movies of me every day, wanting to create a stock-pile of “non-pregnant” movies before I began to show. Also, since it was summer now and I was out of school, I was also having even more sex with my group of friends. But my dad didn’t want the doctor to be able to tell I was sexually active so suddenly, for a solid week, I wasn’t allowed to get fucked.

That was a hell of a week.

When the doctor appointment finally came it was officially confirmed that I was pregnant. Because of my age the doctor had to call the authorities and I ended up spending most of the day talking with a social worker and then, later, a police detective. They grilled me pretty hard, intent on learning who had knocked me up, but I stuck with the official story my dad had drilled into me. I told them that I’d been “taken advantage of” at an unchaperoned party. I told them I was drunk at the time and that I had no idea who the father could possibly be. Ultimately they believed my tale.

After the doctor appointment my dad put my face in his lap while he drove us home. “I decided somethin’, Beck,” he told me as I sucked his cock, “if the baby ends up a girl I’m gonna keep her. Think it’ll be right and proper to raise a good little slut from day one, ya know? We’ll wait till she’s four or so and then you’ll show her how to do what you’re doin’ right now. I’ll put my little grand-daughter’s mouth around my cock and her whore-mommy will teach her to suck it real good … whaddya think of that?”

I whimpered at his words but I didn’t hold back on giving him the best blowjob I could. I was torn, emotionally: on the one hand I was so used to being my dad’s little slut that sucking him off while he drove was really no big deal. On the other hand, though, I couldn’t stop from imagining the rest of my life: of living forever with my dad, forever being his little whore, and not only that but passing down such a life to a daughter that was currently growing in my belly. When I didn’t respond right away he gripped me by my hair and shoved my face down, hard, onto his cock. He came and I gurgled around his spitting cock just as we pulled into the driveway of our suburban home.

Don’t be a girl, I told my unborn babe that night after each of my brothers had their turn with me in bed. Please, don’t be a girl!

xxxxx

A few weeks passed before I learned the awful truth during yet another doctor’s appointment: the child growing inside of me was, in fact, female.

My dad was overjoyed and he called Daniel the second we walked out of the building. He sounded incredibly pleased, too. I overheard the ensuing conversation and it made feel sick: they talked about raising up a proper little whore from her first days of life, of all the movies they could make, of watching me eat her out for the first time.

“Bet ya can’t wait for that, eh?” my dad asked me. “Finally be able to finish out that Book of Sins of yours.” He laughed.

He was talking about the fact that nearly everything in my Book of Sins had been accomplished by now. I’d had sex with a married man, I’d committed incest more times than I could possibly count, and I’d done almost everything in between: rape, lesbianism, exhibitionism … almost everything in that book. The only thing left remaining, the one page that was still blank, was pedophilia. Having sex with Jody or any of my classmates didn’t count. According to Daniel I had to have sex with a child under the age of ten in order to complete that category. My father, it seemed, wanted my as-of-yet unborn daughter to have the honor of fulfilling that role.

The thought of doing so made me sick.

I continued to have orgasms when either he or anyone else fucked me but while they seemed to grow more intense as my pregnancy progressed, I ceased to revel in them. For the first time in months I began to shy away from having sex, in fact. My brother Jason saw this as a challenge: when I tried to discourage him from fucking me he simply laughed and raped me as I struggled against him. The brusies he left on my wrists and sometimes even my face were a testament to that.

Ron, on the other hand, more or less avoided me. Especially after my belly began to grow. He’d fuck me if he was truly desperate to get off but otherwise he barely talked to me. I think he was terrified that he was his own sister’s father.

Tyler, my oldest brother, started fucking my ass exclusively. He told me that he didn’t want his niece to see his cock “prematurely”.

Despite the pregnancy and everything else I tried to have a fun summer. I sunbathed in the backyard and went to the movies with Jody or Daisy whenever I could. But everywhere I went I could see people staring at me, judging me and my slutty body as it progressed in its pregnancy.

I was a knocked up slut. A pregnant slut. A true and natural whore just like my daughter would one day be. I cried myself to sleep every night but I didn’t resist anyone’s advances during the day.

I was, and would forever be, a whore.

xxxxx

Five months passed and I was having sex on a nearly daily basis with the dogs. With my tummy round and heavy with child, the depravity of getting fucked by animals seemed to satisfy a lot of Daniel’s customers so he made me do those movies almost constantly.

It satisfied me sexually, of course, plus it made sense. The dogs had taken my virginity and for some reason getting fucked by them while pregnant seemed appropriate somehow. But I felt lost more than anything during this period, lost and scared and hopeless.

Jody was my costar in these movies, as usual, and she often helped guide the dogs into my young, pregnant body as I knelt on all fours awaiting their penises. Daniel wasn’t very creative in how these scenes were choreographed, though. Apparently movies showing a pregnant, human thirteen-year-old female getting fucked by a pack of dogs was rare enough that they didn’t warrant clever ideas. Just the sight of me, Desp, the pregnant bitch-in-heat servicing her pack, was enough for his customers. Mary Saint, Jody, got bolder and bolder during these movies. Eventually she started to call me names and barrage me with insults while I got gangbanged by the dogs. Daniel told me his customers loved that so I had no choice but to endure.

And his customers were many. Every day another movie was made, exactly the same as the last, but the demand for them didn’t diminish in the least. Daniel was giving my dad thick envelopes of cash nearly every day.

School started again shortly after my 14th birthday. I was six months pregnant and really showing, now, but I remained popular to hang out with. No one knew who my baby’s daddy was, and no one cared to find out.

Some boys definitely shied away from me given my pregnant state. Hell, a lot of them did. Others, though, saw my state as a win-win situation: I obviously wasn’t a virgin, I was obviously “easy”, and there was no way they could knock me up. So even though I was heavy (and I mean heavy) with child, I had a lot of guys flirting with me. I fucked most of them in one way or another. I preferred giving BJ’s but I’d fuck them if that’s all they wanted.

Meanwhile my friends joked about who the father might be, but no one seemed to be stressed about it. I was just a slut, after all, and sluts got pregnant. That’s just how it was. I’d had sex with so many kids at school that there was no way I’d ever find out who the real father was.

I was attending Eisenhower High School now, and so was Jody. Despite her initial hatred of public schools she ended up insisting to her parents that she didn’t want to go to private school after all. She’d become so much like me, in fact, she was even trying to get knocked up. I tried to warn her against that but she ignored me. Instead she ended up throwing a “Knock up Jody” party shortly after the beginning of the school year. The event was held at my house, of course, and every male at Eisenhower was invited to attend. Many did, and throughout the day and night Jody took cock after cock. Any guest could fuck her, the rule went, so long as they came inside her cunt.

Four weeks after that party she got her desired result. She was pregnant, too. Daniel rejoiced. More movies could be made. Hopefully her child would be a girl, too, he wished. With my dad by his side they could raise two little sluts together for their fucking movies.

Best of all, for my dad, brothers, and Daniel at least, Jody was kicked out of her house when her father found out about her pregnancy. Legally there would have been no way for him to do this, given her age, but since my father eagerly agreed to take her in nothing more about it was said. The bed in my room was replaced with a king-sized one and for the next several months we shared the room: two pregnant teenage sluts in a small room with no door. Jody seemed to love it. Me? I was indifferent.

xxxxx

Fall turned into Winter. My belly grew bigger and bigger. The rest of my small and petite body remained tiny but my huge belly was impossible to hide. More guys were fucking Jody, now, than were fucking me, but that was mostly because I had become so large in the midsection that I ceased to be a sex-object to most of the male population at school. I was no longer “sexy-pregnant”, I was now “pregnant-pregnant”. Jody made jokes about that but I pointed out that she was only a couple months behind me in her own pregnancy and that she’d soon be “pregnant-pregnant”, too.

My dad never seemed to care how big my tummy got. He was there to satisfy my horny urges practically everyday, even when no one else was, not even my brothers. In a way, it was the nicest thing he ever did for me because I was so horny all the time and he was the only one left who really desired me.

Daisy finally stopped hanging out with me forever just before I gave birth. She got mad at me when her mom caught me giving her dad a blowjob. She’d known that her father was one of my regular sources for cock, of course, but she’d made me promise not to let her mom find out. When we were discovered, Daisy disavowed me as a “homewrecker”. I mourned the loss of her friendship but Jody helped ease my pain. Having her with me whenever I wanted her was a huge relief.

When my water broke it was Jody who realized what was going on at first and she called the ambulance. My stupid brothers, Tyler and Jason, stood dumbfounded as she did, not understanding what was going on at the time.

I cried all the way to the hospital. Jody accompanied me in the ambulance, whispering, “Your slut-daughter will be my slut-daughter’s best friend, wait and see…”

We’d just learned a couple of weeks earlier that Jody’s baby would also be a girl. I cringed as she pinched my nipples through my shirt but I cried more from the contractions as the parametics worked over me.

xxxxx

Holly was born halfway through the first semester of my 9th grade year. The girl had red hair, even as a newborn, and had quiet, happy eyes. Red hair aside, I knew right away she didn’t stem from any of my family members. That was a huge relief. She was too strong, too happy, too full of life to be the product of incest. Besides, no one in my family had red hair. Holly was most likely Desmond Lowe’s offspring. One of Jessie’s best friend’s, Desmond had red hair and he’d always loved cumming inside my cunt.

She could have had worse fathers, I thought after giving birth. Desmond was boring and awkward but he was cute and intellectual. Petting her head in the hospital room that day I whispered to her, “You’ll be with me forever. I promise.”

“And we’ll always be safe,” I said to her as the happy nurses placed the wrapped up baby in my arms. “You’ll always be safe. I promise.”

xxxxx

Because I was a minor I had to talk to the police again after giving birth to Holly. I swore to them I had made a drunken and stupid mistake nine months earlier. Exhausted, I tried to tell them that I’d gone through all of this before with them, but they didn’t care. I was assigned yet another social worker.

I was due to be released the next morning and my father told me he’d have everything set up for the new baby when we got home the next day. My brothers visited frequently throughout the afternoon, wanting to meet their niece, and Jody was by my side most of the time, too. At around nine o’ clock, though, visiting hours ended and I was left alone in the hospital room with baby Holly.

At some point I finally made my decision. In the dead of night I took my baby for a walk around the hospital. This was allowed because my newborn was healthy and we supposedly couldn’t get into any trouble. We were, after all, confined to the east wing of the hospital.

Fire alarms are amazing. When I pulled one all Hell broke loose. Suddenly the nurse stations emptied and in the ensuing panic I made it out of the hospital with my little baby in tow. I literally ran down the street with my baby in my arms, constantly trying to quiet her down but not slowing my run for a minute. Once we got to a pay-phone I dialed for a taxi.

It arrived ten minutes later even as fire-engines and paramedics swarmed by us. I held little Holly against me the whole time and when the cab arrived I gave him directions to my home’s suburban street.

We got there about fifteen minutes later. With Holly in one arm I stumbled toward the rusted-out lamp pole and dug out nearly $10,000 worth of cash, all stuffed into the envelopes my dad had paid me with. No one had touched my money since I’d been hiding it there, thank God, because now I really needed it.

Getting back into the cab I gave the driver $200 and told him to drive toward the city. Meanwhile I placed Holly’s gentle little mouth at my right breast and let her feed. She did so, greedily, and the feeling of her soft, mushy lips at my breast was sublime. Also, it made the newborn babe stop crying.

Once we were in the city I told my driver to find us a bus-terminal. He did and I gave him another $100 to keep his mouth shut. His fare had been an Asian immigrant wanting to move East, I told him. He took the bill with a nod and quickly I was out of the cab.

Holly and I were just in time to catch a bus ride out west.

I was dehydrated and sick and tired, and Holly cried constantly whenever her little lips weren’t pressed against my milking breasts. In the back of my head I knew that running like this was risky, not only for me, but for her. But I also knew that staying put and living with my dad and Daniel and my brothers was even riskier for my new child.

When we got to Los Angelas a couple days later I immediately brought both of us to a hospital. I had little choice: I was feverish and weak and barely aware of what I was doing. I had the presence of mind to throw away anything that could identify me first, though.

I was treated at the hospital for dehydration and a minor infection related to giving birth. Once again cops came to speak with me but this time I simply wouldn’t talk to them. They threatened to put me in a state-run home and take my child away, but even then I kept my mouth shut. And once again, after I was feeling better, I escaped the hospital with my baby. This time, in this huge city, I found a motel room and stayed there for a while.

Two months later we had our own place. It was a small, one-room apartment, but it was ours. I hired an illegal immigrant to take care of my precious child while I worked, and I did find work. Not at legit clubs but at the after-hour clubs that shrugged at fake ID’s. Mostly I just danced or served cocktails, but sometimes I would get propositioned for sex and I usually accepted. Those were lean years and every extra dollar mattered.

Holly grew in the following years, as did I. When I turned 18 and she was four I started making legal porno movies. My first one was hugely successful. Suddenly I was a star in that field of work and offers for jobs came in from all across the map. I took full advantage of that, believe me. Raising a child isn’t cheap, after all.

xxxxx

The main reason I’ve been so successful in porn, I think, is that my breasts got big, my body curved out, but my face has remained fresh and young looking. Despite the fact that I gave birth to my first child when I was only 14, or maybe because of it, I still have a nice, tight twat. My tits ended up reaching a very large and respectable 34-C bra size and, on my petite frame, that has always been a huge selling point for me. At conventions my fans often tell me that I look much younger than my 26-years. That always makes me happy since I’m actually nearing thirty, now. I’ve technically been 26 for several years according to my website!

The other thing that’s made my porn career so successful is that I never have to fake it on camera. My orgasms are always legitimate. If anything, getting into porn was the smartest thing I ever did because it allowed me to live out my wildest fantasies while remaining somewhat in control of my fate. It certainly helped my career that I was willing to do anything– gangbangs, DP’s, etc., too. I always pushed the envelope and I loved doing so … just part of being a born slut, I guess.

xxxxx

Recently I announced that I was retiring from being in front of the camera. I have enough money, now, and I’m not going to be able to pass as a 20-something for much longer anyway. Along with my new master, a man who I worship and submit to in almost all things, I made the decision to start directing instead. After making the announcement, though, the amount of fanmail I receive tripled. Holly, my daughter, is old enough to know what I do and she laughed at how much mail I was getting.

“Jesus, Mom!” she laughed one day while hauling a sack full of letters into the house. “You’re getting more mail than ever, now. Maybe you should un-retire for like, one more movie … if these letters are any indication, I bet it would outsell all of your other ones!”

I just smiled at her but I kept my voice firm. I said, “Holly, you have homework. Get to it.”

She rolled her eyes and dropped the sack of mail but, like always, she did as she was told and quickly went upstairs to attend her school work. Holly has always been very obedient like that– a trait she gets from me, no doubt. She also got my large breasts but she got them even earlier than I did. I was having to restrain her from dating when she was only eleven but, somehow, it worked. At the age of fifteen my precious and beautiful girl remains a virgin.

After she was gone I decided to go through some of the letters in this most recent batch of mail. While doing so I found one that shocked me back fifteen years. That hand-written letter, passed on to me through my movie studio, is probably the reason I wrote this whole thing to begin with.

It read: “Dear ‘Macy’,

“For years we searched for you, Becky. Years! We only gave up when your dad announced that you were dead and gone and your name wasn’t to be spoken again. But I never forgot you. Seriously, I never gave up hope of finding you again.

“I stumbled across one of your movies online and have since ordered, like, 15 of your DVD’s. They’re great. You’re great in them. I’ve kept your porn-career secret from your dad so far, but you know him. He already knows I’m hiding something and he’ll eventually get the truth out of me. He’ll probably beat my ass or one of our children’s asses to punish me for hiding it from him. After that, he’ll most likely try to track you down.

“So why wait for that? Why not come visit us? It can be like old times. The kennel has a bunch of great mastiffs I’m sure you’d love and your brothers are all in the same area. Daniel is dead (did you know that?) but the rest of us remain. Plus, two of my girls are your half-sisters! After Jessica was born (who knows who fathered her?) your dad refused to let me fuck anyone else. He’s fathered three children with me in total, two of whom are girls. I’m sure you’d like them. If you haven’t already, Madison (my youngest) would eagerly help you fill in that one last page of that book of yours… !

“Come and visit, okay? Just for old time’s sake, if nothing else. It’ll be fun.

“Love, Jody.”

I showed this letter to my new master. I hide nothing from him, after all.

After reading it, he just laughed.

“You’re not going back there,” he told me with a grin. “And there’s no way you’re filling in the last page of that book.”

Even after all these years the idea of my dad finding me made me scared. I said, “But what if my dad does find me? I mean, what if…”

“Shh,” my master said. “Trust your master. Now bend over and spread your ass for him…”

I shuddered at his authoritative voice. I was naked in our bedroom and I bent over for him, as instructed, and spread my ass cheeks. He sighed and pressed a finger into my sphincter. I cooed audibly at the invasion.

“Master will take care of you,” he whispered. “And we have three hours until Holly gets back from her friend’s house. How do you think we should spend that time?”

His finger continued to probe into me and I cringed and sighed and moaned. Finally I managed to say, “However Master wishes?”

“Good girl,” he smiled. A moment later he had his cock pressed against my anus.

He ended up fucking me for almost all of the three hours Holly was gone. It was amazing. When it was over, and he was asleep, I went over to the computer and I started to type.

Only just now, at this very moment, did I stop.

THE END