One

"Have you been to one of these before?" asked Camila. Stately pines flickered past, their summer scent filling the car, their shadows dappling her arm as it rested on the open window's sill. She loved riding in the car with the windows open; even though her father was a careful - perhaps even cautious - driver, the breeze whipping her long, black hair was still exhilarating. Camila would have loved being driven in a convertible, but, well, maybe that was just for movies.

Her father glanced sideways with a little smile. "No, sweetheart, no. The Boss does them for the different M & A groups each time. The last time my team was invited was... well, four years ago... you know..." He smiled again, tightly, a little sadly, and looked back at the forest road.

Camila bit her lip and reached a hand across to touch her father's shoulder. She hated to see that pain behind his eyes. It was her pain too, but it seemed so much worse in him. He shouldered so much - then, and now - so much, to protect her as best he could from the worst in life. Her mother's death had been hard, very hard, the sickness long and so degrading for them all, but he had shielded her as much as he was able. Four years ago, and the pain was still there - as were the hospital bills, the insurance, the debt... A tear welled in her eye. She loved her daddy so much, so, so much, and life was not fair to him, not fair at all.

"But hey," he said, his voice deliberately cheerful, "I hear from Tony that the Boss's barbecue picnics are really pretty neat. He was at the... the last one, you know, said it was great fun. The lodges by the lake, swimming, beach games, water-skiing if you're up for it, huge campfire at night! We'll have a blast!" He glanced across again, and Camila's heart made that little pulse, that skip of pride and love for her daddy, her knight, her rock. She grinned back, the pain receding, touched his shoulder, turned her hair into the car's slipstream again. Her hair flew about her face and she giggled.

"Hey, there's the turnoff just up ahead!"

They parked up a little way from the small cluster of lakeside lodges, their seven-year-old Ford seeming rather shabby next to the glossier, flashier 4x4s and SUVs. Camila saw her daddy's mask slip just a little as he locked the car and pocketed the key, envy showing briefly before he turned to her with a big grin. "OK, sweetheart, let's go!"

They followed the sounds of music and laughter a short way through the trees and down to the lake, walking hand in hand, their weekend bags slung over their shoulders. It was almost lunchtime, and the firm's M & A Area Number Four Staff Picnic was in full swing. As they neared the sandy beach Camila slowed slightly, hanging back a little from the crowd of strangers. She was always a little cautious in new situations. People often thought of her as a quiet girl, shy even, but Camila never really understood that. Why would one not be cautious with new people - some of them were real dopes, not worth the time! She never saw the need to talk and chat just for sake of it - if she had something to say, she said it, but otherwise she was content. No need for hysterics or childish tantrums, sulks or chatter. Her teachers said she was very mature for her age.

She looked up at her daddy: he seemed at ease, and that was good enough for her. These were his colleagues, some from his team, some from others, but all folk he worked with. She smiled as he raised his hand - and hers with it - waving. "Hey, Tony!"

"Hey, Carlos! Yay, you made it!" Tony Lavarta, colleague, friend and all-round funny man (or at least so Camila always thought) detached himself from the nearest group and hurried over to slap her father heartily on the back. "And you brought a date, too! Who is this gorgeous lady?" He waggled his eyebrows at Camila; she couldn't help giggling.

"Hey, Tony. You remember my daughter Camila."

Tony slapped his forehead in pantomime shock. "Your daughter! Little Camila! No way, man, she's still in diapers! No, you got a date with a movie star and kept it quiet! Hello, my dear," he continued, taking Camila's hand and bowing theatrically over her fingers. She grinned back, slightly embarrassed but secretly delighted. Tony straightened and waggled his eyebrows again quizzically. "Darn it I don't think I've seen you for a year and more, honey. You got grown up. How old are you now? 23? 24?"

Camila stifled another bout of giggles. "Twelve," she replied, smiling at Tony's kind buffoonery, "just last month."

"Well, glad you two could make it. Really glad." Tony glanced across at Carlos who was chatting to another couple of folks, then back to Camila. She saw the hint of worry in his eyes. "How's he doing? How're you both doing? OK?" Camila nodded, grateful beyond words for the obvious concern in Tony's question. She found her voice. "We're good, thanks."

"Good, good. He's a good man, your father. Yeah... Tough few years..." Tony grimaced, rapidly turning it into a smile. "He works too hard." He squeezed her hand, winked. "He deserves a break. Hey," he went on, changing subject quickly, "you remember my daughter Sophia? Hey Sophie! This is Camila, my boss's daughter! You be nice to her and maybe her dad'll give me a raise!"

A tall, rangy girl with a tumble of brown curls jogged over. She smiled easily. "Hi Camila. You play volleyball? C'mon, we're beating the boys 4 to 2!"

"Leave me your bag, honey. I'll find out where you and your dad are staying tonight."

Tony watched as his daughter drew Camila off into the hotly-contested beach volleyball game, and smiled gently. Grown up indeed! Carlos's daughter was going to be a heartbreaker one day, that was for sure. He hefted her night bag, and turned to find her father. "Hey Carlos, you got a beer yet? C'mon, let's find out which lodge you're in."

Two

"Hold my calls until Monday, I'm done." Bill Kirchener closed the iPhone and dropped it into his jacket pocket. Enough. Enough of work for a couple of days. He was paying for this damn picnic so he was damn well going to enjoy it. Well, maybe "enjoy it" was a bit strong - slumming it at the lakeside with a bunch of drones, middle-managers and their families wasn't his best idea of a good time, but it kept the troops entertained, kept 'em fighting the good fight of putting money in the shareholders' pockets. And since he was the largest single shareholder, that was just fine with Bill. He could put up with a little lower-class schmoozing for that.

Besides, a couple of the wives in this group were pretty hot - and in fact he recognized one brunette (Ingrid? Ines?) he'd balled for a time last year. She'd been a fine piece of ass - fucked her on his boat once, if memory served. Her husband had got a raise out of it, not that he knew. That would've been a memo worth reading: "To Head HR: give Frank or Bob or whoever a $3,000 raise - his wife is an excellent cocksucker. Bill."

Smiling at that thought, Bill stepped onto the deck outside the nicest of the lodges. He nodded to Torres, his personal fixer, as ever waiting patiently nearby. Some CEOs had PAs by the score; Bill had a diary secretary back at the office, and Torres to get done the things that sometimes just needed done. "Get yourself a beer," Bill said as he passed, "I'm done for the day." Torres inclined his head slightly, his way of expressing enthusiastic thanks.

Acknowledging the nods and smiles from various folk, dropping a word here or there with a fawning minion, Bill strolled towards the makeshift beach bar and the heart of the picnic. It was all calculated, of course - he liked his employees to think of him as a friend, a mentor, a father-figure, but he'd fire them all tomorrow without a look back if it made the bottom line better.

Accepting a cold beer from one or the other of his M & A managers from the beach bar, he sauntered towards the lakeshore where some of the kids were playing volleyball. Eva has said she'd bring Theresa along to this one, though he hadn't seen them yet. Bill had a soft spot for his little sis, but her daughter - his niece - he found deeply irritating. Spoiled brat, she was. Needed a damn good thrashing, but alas you couldn't do that to kids these days, so child-centered did things seem to be.

Nope, no Theresa in sight - or within earshot - thank God. Bill sipped beer and slipped the phone out of his pocket so he could pretend to be busy and not have to talk to anyone. The volleyball game seemed to be a boys v girls affair, with kids ranging from third-graders to teens - lots of noise and laughter, a little too frivolous for him. Maybe he'd take out a jetski in a little. Mind you, that girl with the froth of brown hair was kinda cute - what was she, fourteen? Something like that. Mmm, not bad.

I wonder if my tastes are getting younger, he mused, gazing rather absently at the game. A few business trips ago in the Far East he'd fucked a couple of teenage hookers, sixteen they were, or so the man had said, which could've meant anything from fourteen to twenty - but the very idea of their youth had been a massive turn-on. He'd knelt them side by side on the bed and fucked them from behind, turn about, the two of them giggling and chattering gaily. They'd clearly been shaved down there, but that smooth-pussy look definitely had something going for it. Hmm, I wonder.

Hoots and squawks from the game made him look up. Hmm, whatever. Too damn noisy, these kids. Time to get someone to find him a jetski.

And then he saw her.

Not ten yards away. She had just served the ball, and was poised, a look of delight on her face, to see the result. Long, dark hair flowed across her shoulders - black hair, raven-black, the shimmering black of rich silk sheets in opulent Turkish bordellos. Her face was a dream of beauty - the simple, open, perfect beauty of youth, smooth, untrammeled by life's weight and age's rigor. Her serve was good! - the radiant quality of childish delight on her face took his breath away. She jumped up and down, clasping hands with the fourteen-year-old brunette, who suddenly looked frumpy and graceless and old.

The girl's black hair swirled as she celebrated, writhing across her naked shoulders, curling around her beautifully slender neck. She wore a white halter-top, and the outline of her gently, perfectly budding breasts struck him like a blow to the sternum. His breath caught; his heart yammered; blood rushed, to his head, to his crotch. Her belly was flat, smooth, unbelievably perfect, her skin a glorious soft coffee-color. She wore denim shorts, and long, white tights sheathed her legs. She was - twelve, thirteen?

Her shorts were tight on her butt, tight in a way that older girls would be self-conscious about, tight in a way that nearly stopped the yammering of his heart for good. Her legs swept in gloriously athletic curves from ankles to thighs, joining harmoniously, hypnotically, to create the most fabulous-looking butt he had ever seen, anywhere. The sixteen-year-old Malay sluts of his memory were ragged slatterns in comparison. Ankles, calves, thighs, butt, belly, breasts, shoulders, neck, the whole perfect feminine sweep culminating in that utterly beautiful, raven-winged face.

There was no other woman, no girl in the world. There was only her.

"Yay Camila! Go girl!" The brunette's voice reached him from a long way away. Bill swayed, his vision misted, his fingers white where they clenched the iPhone. His brain swam a little way back toward reality; all at once he became aware of the erection filling his shorts, the cold wetness at the tip threatening to seep through the silk of his suit pants. Shit! Careful!

Camila.

He breathed again, relaxed his grip on the phone and moved a little way away toward a nearby pine. Camila. The game had paused and the angel in human form called Camila was standing chatting with some of the older kids, arms stretched high, slender hip cocked in a beautiful, unassuming, childlike way that sent his heart racing again. As he watched her, eyes boring into her every pore, she tossed her head and laughed at something one of the boys said. There was no artifice in that laugh, no feminine calculation in that flick of her hair. She was a child still; she had no concept of how utterly gorgeous, how awfully, potently desirable she was. It made him want her more.

And he did want her. He wanted her badly, very, very badly indeed. She was a child, and he wanted her, body and soul, to possess her, caress her, love her, fuck her.

Goddamn. His erection throbbed.

Camila.

He wanted her. And what Bill Kirchener wanted, he got.

Three

Camila awoke with that oddly unsettling feeling of having been disturbed by something that's no longer there. She lay for a while in the near-pitch dark, listening to the unfamiliar sounds around her. No street sound here, no suburban glow beyond the cabin window. A stillness, a deep darkness, cool air. She lay quiet, savoring the peace, not at all unnerved by the occasional rustle or splash of night-hunting wildlife, until slowly it dawned on her that she couldn't hear her father's gentle snoring.

They were sharing this lodge with Tony and Sophia, and a married couple whose names escaped her. Camila and her father were in a small single bedroom, she in the bed, he on an inflatable mattress a few feet away. She peered over the edge of the bed, her eyes straining to confirm what her ears told her - he wasn't there.

Carefully, softly, she rose and sought the door to the main living area. Opening it quietly, not quite sure why she was being so circumspect, she peeked out. With its large window looking over the lake the living area was better lit, the dying firelight of the barbecues and huge bonfire casting a ruddy glow across the room. Her father was there, seated in an armchair over by the empty fireplace, half turned toward her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. He looked defeated. Camila felt her heart wrench and tears pricked her eyes. Her father looked despondent, beaten, his face drawn, pained.

She took an involuntary step forward. "Da... daddy?" He flinched at the sound of her voice, and looked up, his face changing to a smile of reassurance - and it was this that started her tears, this protective act, much more than the way he'd looked without his mask. "Oh daddy...!" she cried softly, running to him, tears suddenly coursing down her cheeks. She flung her arms around him and sobbed.

"Ssh, baby, ssh ssh. It's OK, it's OK baby. Ssh..." He held her, stroked her hair in that way he'd always done when she was sad. He held her, just hugged her, and eventually she recovered enough to ask him why he was here, sitting in the dark. "Just thinking, babes. Couldn't sleep," he replied, his smile wan. "Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about." He stroked her damp hair away from her face, brushing gently at tears with his thumbs. "It's OK."

"It's the bills isn't it? Money?" He could never hide anything from her.

"No, babes, it's just... just, well... Well... Yeah." He sighed, hugged her again. "Yeah, it's the bills, babes. It's just that..." He trailed off. Camila searched his face as his eyes wandered around the darkened room, seeking something that wasn't there. He smiled again, a smile so sweet and so sad it brought her tears on once more. "Yeah, but - hey! No, no, come on, babes, ssh now, ssh, it's OK. We'll be OK, I promise. With a little luck - you know, just a pinch - everything will be fine. Hey! I said I promise - and when did daddy ever break a promise, hey?"

He held her close again. Camila snuggled into his neck, squeezing him tight. She had no words to offer, no help she could give him save love. Maybe if she hugged him tight, loved him hard enough, maybe that would be enough. Maybe that would bring the luck they needed.

After a while, he lifted her up - not without a comment on how big she was getting -and carried her carefully back to bed. He tucked her in, kissed her, made her promise not to worry, then wriggled back into his sleeping bag. "Night, babes." "Night night, daddy. I love you." "I love you too, babes. Sweet dreams."

Neither of them slept, although both pretended to.

Four

"Yeah, this Saturday, at the hacienda. Just the regional managers and a couple others. Nah, fuck him. He's out. Yeah. Yeah, that'll do fine. Yeah. Oh, and Estevan? Get that team leader from the Fourth along too, Carlos Morales. Yeah, I reckon he might just - let's see how big his cojones are! Yeah, make sure he knows it's a family thing, just informal, bring the kids. OK, ciao."

Bill Kirchener killed the call and stared out of the panoramic window of his office. Bring the kids. Bring her. Bring Camila. God-damn. He rose, and walked slowly to stand at the glass and gaze out across the city. Smog hazed the horizon. Camila. Raven-black hair, green eyes flecked with fire, skin so smooth, the high, clear voice of an angel or a nymph from the heart of the forest.

His cock swelling at the memory of her voice - "Hello Mr Kirchener, pleased to meet you" - he opened the phone and flipped to the folder of pictures from the weekend. Only a handful, but they brought him to full erection. That white halter bikini, first with the shorts and cream tights at the volleyball game, then pure bikini bottoms in the water later - two of those, and the second caught her twelve-year-old ass just so. Oh god-damn, just so. Achingly, perfectly so.

And she was twelve. He knew her birthday now, just last month. Twelve. Fuck. A few weeks ago she had been eleven. God-damn, every time he reminded himself that she was still a child - every time, he felt his lust for her rise. Young, beautiful, innocent, perfect. His mind turned circles around her - he wanted to love her, protect her; he wanted to corrupt her, fuck her. Be a father to her. Be a lover to her. Have her laugh and smile and hold hands with him - the daughter he'd never had. Have her kneel and perform every last degraded sex-act on him with her sweet, young body - a slave to his desires.

He knew which side would win. The side that always won.

Camila.

Saturday, at his place in the country. He had a proposal for her. He knew her father was unlikely to rise too much higher in earning potential without some help and, from Torres's latest clandestine task he knew the family background, knew the debts they had - and he'd seen first hand the depth of love the daughter had for the father. What would a devoted daughter like that do to help her father, help her family?

His eyes scanned the hazed horizon again. His cock throbbed. His balls ached.

What would you do, Camila? What would you do to make daddy happy?

Five

"What is it, dad? What is it?" She knew as soon as he stepped through the front door that something was different. There was a different look on his face, a change that no-one else could have noticed, but Camila did. Camila could read her father like a book - like a kid's book, even! - and there was something in his eyes that she hadn't seen for - well, she couldn't actually recall having seen it before. It looked dangerously, seductively like hope. His smile of greeting was genuine - not a mask just for her. She grabbed his hands and gazed at him earnestly. "What is it?"

Her father grinned and pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head in that way she swore she would never tire of. "Well, babes... I had a visit from Estevan da Silva today. He's my boss's boss. He said there was a big merger oppo coming up and he said Bill wanted me to handle it." He looked down at her politely attentive face. "Bill? Bill Kirchener? The big boss? You met him at the picnic. I think he liked you. Anyway, according to Estevan this opportunity sounds big, and it's coming to me, from Bill!"

Camila didn't quite follow, but her daddy seemed so excited, almost boyish again, that she was delighted for him. "So, that means..." she said, prompting.

"It means, sweetheart," laughed her father, scooping her up and spinning her around, making her squeal like a little girl again. "It means that the CEO has noticed me and wants to give me a chance to show what I can do! It means I've been invited to go and discuss it this weekend at his place in the country. *We've* been invited, actually. Estevan said come along, bring the family, it's an informal bash for the regional M & A managers and their families - and us!"

Camila grinned. Her father's delight was infectious. "So we get to go to a party in the country?" she asked. Carlos laughed. "Yeah, in the country! Bill has a huge, sprawling hacienda, a ranch of a place, horses, everything." "Horses!" "Yeah, babes," Carlos winked, "horses! Estevan said Bill mentioned them in particular; apparently he knows you love horses?"

Camila had a vague memory of talking to Bill Kirchener at the picnic, a tall, oldish, distinguished man in nice clothes, and she probably had mentioned the she loved horses, used to ride one time, loved riding. She'd only passed a minute or two talking with him; he'd seemed very pleasant, charming even - an easy manner... Well, there was something in his eyes that startled her to begin with. A ferocity. Something... hungry? Kind of like an animal hunting?

Whatever. Horses! "Oh daddy, do you think I could see the horses?"

"We'll have to see, babes, but it might be possible, yeah. But you see what this might mean?" He caught her hands again, his face more serious but his eyes still alive with possibilities. "If I do well with this chance, it could be really good for me in the company. Really good. Bonuses, maybe a raise - promotion!" He held her still with his gaze, made her understand. "It could really help us, honey, you see?"

Now she felt a thrill of excitement. "Oh daddy, really...? Could it really...?" She felt tears prick her eyes, not tears of sadness but something else - pride, hope, fear of success? She looked earnestly at her father; he returned her gaze steadily, his eyes showing the same hopes and fears that were surely there in hers, then he caught her and hugged her again and laughed.

"Maybe, babes, maybe! Let's wait and see - but you better turn your girlish charm up to eleven, just in case!"

Six

Bill had watched the Morales' arrive from the upstairs balcony. Catching sight of the girl Camila again had had a much stronger impact than he'd expected - just that glimpse from a distance had sent blood rushing to his loins, had reinforced his resolve. She was wearing a simple summer dress of yellow, her hair caught in a ponytail with a yellow flower band. She held her father's hand lightly, and a blaze of jealousy flared momentarily in Bill's breast. It would be him instead, it must be. Good God was there ever such an utterly lovely female creature on this planet? Behind the ivy-clad railing of the balcony he'd stroked himself erect as he'd watched that raven-haired beauty look around the sprawling gardens at the front of his favorite hacienda.

There'd been a chance she wouldn't come. There'd been a chance she'd be the only kid there. But she had come, and half-a-dozen of the guys had brought family, so everything looked good. No other kids of her age, so far as he could tell. That might be an in. That and the horses.

By the time he'd gone down to meet them he'd calmed, subsided, reverted to the urbanely charming Bill Kirchener that everyone knew.

"Hey, Carlos, yes? Good to meet you. David and Estevan have had a lot to say about you recently. Glad you could make it. And your daughter...? I think we met at the picnic, yes? I heard you charmed the boys into submission at volleyball, yeah?" Bill winked as he took Camila's hand briefly. The slight blush on her face and the momentary dropping of her eyes thrilled him - an impact. Always make sure you have an impact straight away. He waited, caught her gaze again as she raised her head - she was embarrassed by her blush, he thought, a strong girl, spirited, wanting to be un-awed by her daddy's big boss. He caught her gaze and held it for a fraction of a second, a fraction longer than social etiquette demanded. He saw a flash of surprise in her eyes, perhaps as she perceived something in his, a glitter reflecting from the fire deep down inside him, maybe - or his mind invented it. Either way, his blood surged. Willpower alone kept his erection at bay.

Morales, he could see, was awed. He was wondering what was behind the invite. Why was he here with the bigger fish, paying social calls on the boss? Did this mean something? Could this be his lucky break? Bill smiled to himself. Yeah, buddy, maybe it is - depends on whether your little angelita of a daughter plays ball...

"Catch you later, Carlos. Good to meet. Go, eat, have fun." Just as he turned away, Bill glanced at Camila one more time. She was still looking at him. He winked again. A little, involuntary smile twitched the corners of her beautiful mouth, and a surge of feeling swept down through Bill's chest to writhe in his crotch like a nest of snakes. He drifted through the gathering, words here and there, but only one image behind his eyes, only one thought. Get her alone. He had a proposal for her. Get her alone.

In his office he took a couple of calls, then called Torres through, instructing him to go and find David Rodrigues, one of his lieutenants. While he waited, his mind spiraled, circling ever closer to images of a raven-haired girl with the liveliest green eyes and the sweetest butt in the world, spinning like a moth around a candle, around a bonfire, destruction assured at the slightest slip.

"David. Thanks for leaving the fun. Whaddya think of Morales? Is he one of us? Well, look, I think he's got potential, and I'm getting sick of Eduardo's whining, so... There's this big Russian account coming up - TFG Bank, you know? - and I want you to give the lead to Morales. Hold his hand through it, make sure he lands it, OK? It'll be a big bonus for him, and you'll get a little something extra for the mentoring, OK? Now, let's go find him. You fill him in on the background - bring him back here. I'm gonna join the party for a while."

They found the Morales' over by the main pool and barbecue. Morales himself was chatting with a couple of the guys, a little self-consciously to be sure, and for a second Bill froze - no Camila. God-damn where was she? Maybe he should abort, try again later - but no! There, sitting a little way away, showing the Tyler twins how to make daisy chains. Showing her maternal side - how cutely hot was that.

"Hey, Carlos!" David Rodrigues was calling over to their man. "You got a half-hour? Got an idea I'd like to run past you. Yeah, Bill's idea actually." He nodded amicably at Bill who smiled back at Carlos. "Yeah, Carlos, David and I think you're our man for this one. Go get your heads together for a bit. Use my office."

Morales looked fazed for an instant, then pulled himself together. "Wow, I mean, sounds real interesting. Sure, be good to find out more. Honey?" He'd turned to Camila, who was now watching with interest. Good girl, thought Bill. You pay attention now. "You be OK if I go talk business for a while?"

Camila nodded and was about to speak when Bill seized his moment. "Camila, you're a big horsewoman, yeah? How about I show you my favorites?" He watched her eyes blaze with excitement, a whole raft of emotions cross her face, as she rose to her feet, daisy chains and six-year-olds forgotten. "Come on, come meet my favorite filly, you'll love her." He studied her silent exchange with her father - please please daddy? Of course, but where are your manners! Oops, sorry dad! - and smiled to himself as she turned to him and said "Thank you very much Mr Kirchener, I'd love too! Sorry Trudy, Tonya, we'll finish those later! Oh, unless they could come too?"

Ah fuck! That question - of course to be expected from such a bright, kind, motherly girl - nearly derailed him. No, fuck off with the kiddies, I want you alone! His smile froze, and it was Morales that rescued him. "No, Camila, I think they're a bit young for horses, don't you. We wouldn't want them to get hurt, would we?"

Ha, thanks, pal, thought Bill. "Yeah, the stable's no place for playing, but a sensible girl like you will be fine. Right, let's go!"

The stables were probably the absolute best choice as a venue for his proposal. Camila was enthralled by the horses - six of them, he owned, including La Dama Oscura, his beautiful dark filly - and this kept her from noticing the intense edge to his manner, meant she didn't spot the barely-contained bulge in his pants. With her nostrils full of horse-sweat, she was also unaware that he positively reeked of sex. He must do. His desire for her, now he had time alone to watch, talk, smell her, was complete; his lust must be leaking from every pore...

They'd reached the farthest end of the stalls. Sunlight lanced through the part-open door, painting a million motes of haydust floating gently in the hot air. She turned, smiling, to thank him, he expected. He slammed his arm forward, palm hard against the stall wall, a barrier right in front of her. She looked up, puzzlement flooding her face, her eyes widening. He caught her gaze. His voice was low, urgent, filled with lust. "Do you love your daddy, Camila?"

Seven

To Camila, the whole get-together had been proving a little surreal, a little boring. There was no-one else there her age - she'd been hoping Sophia Lavarta might be there, or even Theresa what's-her-name, Mr Kirchener's niece. Making daisy chains for the Tyler twins had been kinda OK, although the two of them were a bit dumb, even for little girls. Despite being undeniably excited for daddy and his chances of finally getting somewhere at work, for a girl of twelve-going-on-forty (as daddy called her sometimes) it was all a bit ho-hum.

But then Mr Kirchener's offer of the horses had made all the tedious ho-hum stuff worthwhile.

Camila loved horses. Her mother had loved horses, and Camila had first sat in front of her mother at the age of five, on a big, placid piebald mare. The thrill of being one with such a huge, beautiful animal had never left her. She still rode when she could, although the family budget didn't stretch there so often any more. Her birthday had been fabulous - a night away at a ranch and a day's riding - and even though she knew her daddy couldn't really afford it, she loved him fiercely for the gift.

And here, at this sprawling Ponderosa of a place, with its gorgeous gardens and smart people, a private tour of a fabulous stables filled with beautiful horses! She'd fallen in love with La Dama Oscura straight away, positively gushed when Mr Kirchener asked if she liked her. She couldn't believe it when he'd called the stable girl over to lead her out so Camila could brush her. He'd joked as he watched her, asking if she'd like a job. She'd gabbled - Yes please Oh I'd love to! Oh could I really? -before she'd caught his smile. She'd blushed and hung her head, feeling small somehow, childish. He'd laughed. Well, he'd said, I'll talk to your daddy, yes? She'd looked up, searching his face to see if he was teasing. His eyes had been serious.

Serious. Well, yes, he'd not been teasing; he really would talk with her father, she felt sure. But it was more than that. His eyes were really *serious*. Out of that assured, handsome face they'd bored into hers, right into her soul, making her feel then anything but childish. Making her feel... what?

They'd come to the end of the stalls, to the back door, sunlight lancing through. She turned to thank him once again - and stopped, short. His arm shot out to block her path. His eyes caught hers, boring into her again, fiery, blazing. His voice was low, husky, like the low growl of some powerful beast from the forest.

"Do you love your daddy, Camila?"

She heard the question, but didn't quite understand it. Some automatic part of her replied - "Yes. Of course. Why...?" - while some other part raced ahead, trying to understand.

"You see what I can do for him, for you, yes?" Mr Kirchener continued, his voice still low but intense, so intense. "He works for me - I can make things better. I can help him a lot, help you both. You got debts, I know. I can help make them go away. Your daddy, he's not happy is he?"

Camila's mind was still racing. What..? Where..? Automatically she shook her head.

"No, I know he's not, and I know that makes you unhappy - and you shouldn't be unhappy, Camila, you really shouldn't. I know how he looks sometimes when he thinks you're not watching - you know that look?"

"Yes!" she blurted. A tear pricked her eye. How Mr Kirchener knew that she didn't know, but she hated to see her daddy like that, would do anything for her daddy not to have to wear that mask for her.

"What would you give to have your daddy happy again, Camila?"

Her mind froze. The man had reached out, delicately brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his hand gentle - and yet she'd felt the trembling in his fingers. His hand stayed at her face, his thumb brushing again across her cheek. His eyes held her, impaled her against the stable wall.

"I..." her voice was a whisper. Blood pounded in her ears. She felt her face flushing.

"I can make your daddy happy again, Camila. I can do this for you, but you will need to do something for me."

His fingers were warm. They rested now just beneath her left ear, cupping her neck. Her ear was burning. His thumb stroked her cheek. It was very warm in the stable. She shivered.

"I..." His hand felt... nice. "Yes..." His thumb touched the corner of her mouth. Oh goodness... "Yes, I... What?"

His eyes held her, a butterfly pinned to his mounting card.

"I can make your life better in a thousand ways, Camila, for you and your daddy, but in return, you must make me happy. Give yourself to me and I will make everything good for your daddy, your family. For you."

"Wha...? But how can...?" Her mind reeled. His eyes flickered, burned, fires in a deep dark well. His thumb stroked the edge of her lower lip. Saliva seeped into her mouth.

"Make me happy, my little Camila. Give me pleasure. Your young body will be an infinite source of pleasure for me, and in return you and your daddy will be happy again."

Oh Lord. Oh God. Her mind snapped into focus. He wanted her, wanted her for sex. That was... that was... what? Bad? Yes. But why did she feel...? His hand on her cheek. His eyes devouring her. He wanted her, wanted her badly enough to risk everything. And he would make daddy happy!

But what if daddy knew? He would kill himself!

But daddy needn't know. She could... No, no! What...? Wait...

"Camila?"

"Hnn, ye... yes?" Her voice roared in her ears, but she whispered.

"My pleasure, Camila, for your life to be happy again. My pleasure - and yours! You will be happy, Camila, but more than that you will be a woman. I see it in your eyes, you yearn to be a woman. You are a beautiful girl, Camila - I will make you into a beautiful woman."

His fingers traced down her jaw, lingered on her chin, then descended slowly. His index finger traced a line down the front of her dress, snagging in the bodice line, snagging in the corner of her training bra, bumping one by one down the buttons. His eyes never left hers.

"Here." With his left hand he reached out for hers, pressing a small envelope into her grasp. "You know how SIM cards work? Put that in your phone, there is a number. Text only. Within the week, give me your answer - yes or no. I can make your life whole, Camila, you and your daddy. Or I can take it all away..."

He kissed her. He leaned into her, his presence palpable. She felt buffeted by waves as his face came closer. His eyelids dipped. His breath was fresh, sweet. His lips touched hers, gentle and yet insistent, a promise of a billion somethings. His hands clasped her slim hips, lightly, briefly - a squeeze, a kiss and then he was gone, out of the stable door, sunlight flooding in in his place, dazzling her, making her head swim. She leaned against the stall, her heart pounding. After a while she lowered her hand - how long had her fingers been at her her lips? - and looked at the small white envelope.

A week. "I can make your life whole, Camila."

Eight

Thursday. Camila sat on her bed, legs crossed, music playing softly. Cradled in her lap was Jojo, a faded, ragged, much-loved rag doll. In the last year Camila had ostentatiously banished Jojo to the top shelf of her cupboard, telling her father she was too old for such things now. She wasn't, of course, and Jojo was retrieved at least once a week when Camila needed the comfort she couldn't get from her father, because she wanted to be strong for him.

Since Saturday, Jojo had slept with her every night this week.

School and friends had allowed her to forget - mostly - during the day, but evenings... Her father was busy, busy on this new deal he'd been given, busy - and happier than she'd seen him since before her mother died. He'd thrown himself into making this deal work - it could be a way out, sweetheart! - but Camila knew where the real key to his success lay.

With her. Between her legs.

She shivered as the idea went though her head again. She was a bright girl, and she'd understood almost as soon as Mr Kirchener - Bill - had left the stable, understood that he wanted what men had wanted of women forever. But her? She was just a girl! A grown-up girl, of course, mature, quite pretty (she felt immodest at that thought, but she was pretty, she knew it. Julia, her best friend, complained every now and then - "it's not fair, Cam, you're just *so* pretty. And clever. And sporty. You're such a *cow*!"), but a girl. Surely Mr Kirchener - Bill - surely he could have any woman he wanted as a girlfriend. He was so rich, and he was good-looking, and (she couldn't define this), and, something, sort of... attractive?

She'd stood naked in her room and looked at herself in the mirror. OK, pretty, but no big womanly curves like she supposed men liked. Her boobs were there, but they were small - she still really only needed a training bra, although she longed for the time she'd need a "proper" one. Julia had really big boobs already and Camila always told her how jealous she was of them.

No boobs, and her hips were slim, childlike still. Her butt was, well, a butt. She liked her legs - they were long and, she thought, a nice shape, and as for the part of her between them... It was true that just a few months ago she'd begun to pay her "kitty" a little bit more attention. Playing around down there had always been kinda nice, of course, but just recently she'd discovered that a little more rubbing just there was... well, better than kinda nice. A few weeks back she'd been alone after school -her daddy was often still working when she got home, but they were both cool with that -and she'd been a little grumpy, a little edgy. She'd gone to her room and stripped off her uniform and lain on the bed in her panties and... Well, a little absent-minded walking of the fingers had suddenly blossomed into a strong desire to rub harder, faster, more insistently just *there*, and a little *there* too and... She wasn't sure whether she'd actually "achieved orgasm" as the Health and Wellbeing classes put it -or "cum" as they'd giggled together in the playground afterwards - but, well... Better than kinda nice, for sure.

She looked across to her wardrobe mirror now, Jojo cradled in one arm, the small envelope Bill had given her clutched in the other. Would it feel like that if she...? Would he - Bill - Mr Kirchener - would he...? Oh God what would he ask her to do? What would he make her do? Oh God...

But his *eyes*! The way he'd *looked* at her! And that *kiss*! Oh God! That kiss! He'd kissed like he really, *really* wanted to love her, he looked at her like he truly wanted her, and that felt... well... Camila shivered as she stared into her reflection's eyes. It felt...

Good, she whispered softly to herself - and an electric tingle of shame, guilt, delight, liberation seemed suddenly to spread outwards from her tummy, warmth flushing her chest and face, and making her squeeze her legs together. Her fingers clenched around Jojo. That kiss, she repeated slowly, privately. That kiss was... so... so...

Delicious...

Oh. God...

Nine

Bill pounded through the lakeshore sand, his calves burning, breath rasping in his throat, the hard metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Thursday. Goddamn it it was Thursday. He'd said a week, but fucked if he'd expected her to take so long. Goddamn.

That tour of the stables burned in his mind. To be with her, close to her, to concentrate on her... To drink her in with his eyes, to speak softly with her, to touch her... Her eyes - fuck he could drown in their bright green beauty. Her skin, pure, clear, smoother than oiled silk. Her hair fine, raven-black, lustrous, its softness against his fingers spine-tingling. His hand had been shaking! God damn! When, *when* for fuck's sake, was the last time any woman had done that to him, let alone a twelve-year-old girl?

And the promise of her body... At the first locking of their eyes his erection had been almost instant, painfully so. Oh fucking hell Camila Morales I will make your sweet young body SING...

Sweat stung his eyes. His feet pitched and yawed in the sand, the running hard. His leg muscles burned, quads and glutes joining the symphony of pain in his calves and ankles. His heart hammered.

The weekend had been fine. Monday too. Tuesday he'd got edgy, Wednesday worse. Today... Fuck work, he hadn't been able to concentrate all day. He'd given up at lunchtime, canned his afternoon calls, slammed into his Coupe and driven like a mad bastard out to the lake. He'd stripped right there, down to his shorts, pulled on his running kit and torn off around the lake - ten miles, and he was set to break his record, or kill himself trying.

Camila! God damn, girl. God damn.

He sprinted back to the Coupe, the beginnings of serious cramp screaming in his right leg. He lay on the ground, staring at the westering sun, sweat pouring off him, waiting for the pain to recede. It was a while before he could stand again. He opened the passenger side, scooping up the towel from the bucket seat.

Beneath the towel, the light blinked softly on the throwaway phone.

New text.

His heart stopped, restarted.

Fingers clawed for the phone, dropped it, clawed for it again. Unlock... unlock! Fucking unlock you cunt!

New text.

From: Camila.

"Ok yes ok what now?"

Ten

Camila could only hear her father's end of the conversation, but his words combined with the rising excitement in his voice told her everything she needed to know. Her stomach tightened and her breath caught. This is it, she thought. It's started. A strange numbness spiraled out from her knotted stomach, followed by a stranger tingling sensation. The two feelings chased each other around her insides as she stared, determinedly nonchalant, into the boutique window as her father finished up.

"Well, sure, David! Dammit, of course! Although I've got Cam... No, of course not. No problem. I'll be there in five."

Camila swallowed and turned a mildly inquisitive mask towards her father. His face was aglow with something she hadn't seen for a long time. "Something good, daddy?"

His face split with a grin. Her heart skipped at the sight. Bill's words slid through her mind: "I can make your life whole, Camila."

"You're talking to the newest Vice-President of Madrigal Investments!" he blurted, catching up her hands and fairly whirling her around in the middle of the shopping street. "That was David Rodrigues! Bill was real impressed by the way I handled the Russian deal, thinks I got what it takes, wants me 'in the family' as David put it!" He laughed and twirled her again, to amused glances from the shoppers. His laughter tingled down Camila's spine; she couldn't remember hearing him laugh like that before, ever.

"Oh daddy!" she cried, and flung her arms around him. Her mind flipped as she hugged him tight. Bill. This was Bill's deal. This was his part.

Now it was her turn. Her part.

"But, hon, Bill's in the office right now and wants to catch me before he goes on a trip. Would you mind if we just...? We're only a block away from downtown and..."

She laughed. It sounded forced and hollow, but he didn't seem to notice. "Oh daddy of course not. I guess I can hang around in the lobby or something."

It would have been a pretty cool lobby to hang around in but Camila didn't get the chance. David Rodrigues, a short, thickset kind of guy, met them as they swung through the revolving glass doors. He pumped Carlos's hand and thumped him on the back. "Welcome to the Madrigal family, compadre," he'd grinned. "Bill wants to see you soon as you're in. You know the way? 15th floor, elevators over there. You too, Miss Morales," he'd continued, turning to Camila. "Bill said there's something he'd like you to see."

The elevator ride was smooth and silent. She held her daddy's hand for reassurance -hers, although she pretended it was for him. He'd grinned at her, nerves now keeping him quiet, but his eyes still sparkled with new possibilities. Camila squeezed his hand tightly, her own nerves jangling, and prayed that she could do what she had to to preserve this fragile new hope in her father's eyes.

The elevator slowed, stopped. The doors opened. Camila let go of her father's hand and followed him along a chicly styled hallway to an office suite in the building's far corner. There were no secretaries in the outer office but the door through to the chief exec's own was open. Carlos hesitated, then, turning to Camila he shrugged and grinned and nodded towards the door. She gave him a little smile back, her heart hammering in her slim chest. Carlos stepped through.

"Hey, Carlos Morales, our newest V-P Mergers, thanks for dropping by!"

There was nothing particular in his voice, no nuance, no catch, no tension that she could hear, but it froze her on the threshold, sent chills racing down her spine, sent butterflies capering in her stomach. The two men were talking but she couldn't focus, couldn't move. She stood there, poised between the outer and inner offices, unable to move until...

"No, yes, she's here. Camila? Hey, Camila! Come on, don't be rude, Cam..." Her father hissed these last words and the spell broke. Stumbling slightly, she stepped into the large, airy room and said, quietly, "Sorry, hello, Mr Kirchener."

"Hello, Camila," he replied pleasantly, and her name in his mouth sounded... Oh Lord. Aware she was looking down, rude or coy she didn't know, she glanced up. His eyes flickered, a fire within them only she could see. Oh Lord. Oh Lord. Could she...? Oh Lord.

Bill was talking to her father again, his arm around his shoulders. "Yeah, while you're here. David will run through the latest. Thirty minutes tops. Good man."

"Is there somewhere Camila can...?" Her father shot her a glance. He seemed a little irritated by her behavior.

"Sure, she can wait in the outer office, grab a soda maybe. Ah, but first, young lady, lemme show you what I dragged you up for. Over there - see if you recognize her. Carlos, you wanna go catch David? He'll be in his office, 1404. He's got the details of what we're expecting."

Camila barely registered her father's departure, barely heard the admonishment in his tone - "...and don't annoy Mr Kirchener, OK?" She'd come further into the office, far enough to see the glorious painting of La Dama Oscura that dominated the central wall, six feet by four feet. It was beautifully executed, catching her at a canter, the light playing across her sleek hide, the artist's skill making the ripples of her muscles so lifelike they almost moved for real.

She stood quietly looking at the painting until she knew he was right behind her.

"She is beautiful, yes?" His voice was low now, the tension apparent. She shivered, slowly nodded.

"But not as beautiful as you, my Camila."

Eleven

Bill Kirchener's erection strained the front of his suit pants. So much thought, planning, scheming, agonizing, sleepless nights with visions of this green-eyed, raven-haired angel turning in his mind and now, here, here she was. He stood a few feet behind her as she stared at La Dama Oscura. Perhaps she couldn't move; perhaps she dare not turn around. Perhaps. But she had chosen, and she was his.

She was wearing shorts, plain yellow brushed cotton, and a red and white striped t-shirt, sandals on her feet. Plain, simple, girlish clothes. Perhaps she had no real idea of how gorgeous her tight young butt looked in those shorts, how fabulously her t-shirt accentuated the delicate mounds of her young breasts - no bra today! Perhaps she didn't, but he would show her.

"Turn around, Camila."

Slowly she turned. She looked up, seemingly hypnotized. Her face made his cock spasm. So, so incredibly beautiful, incredibly sexy. He stepped closer and cupped the side of her face in his hand. She moved her head - involuntarily, unconsciously - just a little, turning her face a fraction into his hand; her eyes flickered closed and open again.

He sighed, a long, low, shuddering sigh. "Angelita...", he whispered.

"Take your clothes off."

She gave a little start, a twitch. Her eyes widened - but she was a strong girl. After the tiniest hesitation she stepped back a half-pace, then reached down to the hem of her t-shirt. With one smooth movement she drew it off, over her head, shook out her hair and dropped the t-shirt to the floor.

Bill's heart pounded.

Her breasts were small, high, wide, two perfect light-brown mounds emerging shyly from her smooth, girlish chest. Her areolae were a few shades darker, raised just a little in glorious pubescent swelling. Her nipples were small, a delicate pinky-brown - and erect, two tiny, hard points of unbelievable eroticism.

She stepped out of her sandals and, ever so slightly self-consciously, wriggled her shorts down over her hips. Bill watched entranced as they fell, slipping down her long, tanned legs to be kicked deftly aside.

Her panties were white, Mickey Mouse sketched in pink over the fabulous curves of her mound.

Now she did hesitate. She looked into his face, her eyes a little wild - scared, vulnerable. Suddenly she looked like a little girl. Bill's cock hardened painfully. She looked glorious. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, but something in the movement, something she found in his eyes gave her the reassurance she needed. She gave a little breath, her breasts rising beautifully, then pulled down her panties.

The very faintest fan of hair crowned the gorgeous simplicity of her girlish pussy. A single, simple cleft was all that marked her between her thighs - no exposed labia, no over-inflated clitoral hood, just two beautifully-shaped lips. Utter, utter perfection.

And Camila Morales, barely twelve years old, stood naked before him in his fifteenth-floor office.

For an unremembered time Bill drank her in with his eyes, absorbing every little detail of her astounding beauty. Her smooth young skin tanned well - a bikini line and a slight paling across her chest telling him this summer had probably been her last of going topless on the beach. A small pale patch, a hand's breadth below her sweet navel, told of a slight defect, a pale birthmark perhaps, that only served to accentuate her beauty. A tracery of veins showed faintly above her breasts, palest green against the creamy brown. Of moles she had just two, a small, pale brown one below her left breast and its twin on the right-hand side of her perfect pussy, the width of his finger away from the top of her cleft. The urge to kiss that mole almost overwhelmed him.

Instead he asked her to walk to the window, the long glass wall that faced out across the city. He asked her to raise her arms above her head and turn slowly in the sunlight. She did. He could not believe how gorgeous she looked. His cock ached for her, but it would have to wait. Today he would admire his prize from afar. She was his now. There would be time later, so much time, to explore that glorious young body in every way. Every way possible.

"You are perfect, angelita," he whispered. "You will bring me so much pleasure..."

Just one more thing before they must rejoin the world.

"Camila. I want you to understand how much I want you. Come here."

The girl approached, glowing in the sunlight, a faint halo quivering about her whole body.

"Give me your hands."

She reached out her hands and he took one in each of his. Stepping closer, he pressed her hands down against the angry bulge in his pants.

"Feel me, Camila. Feel how hard I am. Feel how hard you have made me, how much you have made me want you. Feel me..."

He closed his eyes as the tips of her fingers played across the hard outline of his cock. He felt her hands trembling, heard her breathing come faster, deeper. He pressed her hands closer around his erection and leaned down. Her lips trembled as she tilted her head up; her eyes flickered closed, open, closed.

The kiss was as close to orgasm as he could be without ejaculating. Long, slow, charged with a depth of passion that took both their breath away. Their lips hovered, just touching, mouths open. Her breath was so sweet. Her fingers pressed his cock, The smell of her skin filled his nostrils.

They broke. He watched her dress. When her clothes were in place once more, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, his tongue opening her lips and exploring her mouth. She tried to kiss back, a girl's first attempt at deep French kissing. It was beautiful. He tasted her mouth and his cock ached.

The desk phone buzzed.

Bill took a deep breath and tore himself away from the girl. He snapped his fingers once, then scooped up the receiver. "Yep? Good, thanks David. Yep, I'll let her know. Yep. Bye."

He turned back to her. She was watching him, her expression one of wonder, her hands clasped in front of her. "OK, angelita, you go down, meet your daddy in the lobby. I'll see you soon, yeah? Real soon, my little angel, real soon."

Twelve

The party was loud. There was samba in the west reception room, disco in the east, a string quartet playing upstairs in the front drawing room. A handful of small children chased each other, shrieking, through the hall. Elegantly-dressed guests chattered and schmoozed, her father amongst them. She'd seen Bill once, briefly, an hour ago perhaps, across the crowded dining room where the gorgeous buffet was laid. Her heart had pounded so hard she'd glanced down at the crushed red velvet, sure the beating in her chest was visible.

It was New Year, an end-of-year thank-you from Bill to his lieutenants and their families. Every VP of Madrigal Investments was there, her father the newest but by no means the shyest. He seemed to take to this high-powered corporate life like a duck to water; he was happier than she'd seen him in such a long time, and for that she was grateful to Bill Kirchener. But she was also aware that there was a bargain involved, and her part had only just begun. It was a week since the visit to the office, since Bill had asked her to...

The memory brought a flush of blood to her face. Camila looked around, fearful that someone would see her and ask her why she was blushing, but no-one was paying her any attention. The party was really geared for adults - the only other girl near Camila's age had been Theresa, Bill's niece, a rather arrogant, spoiled girl with the saving grace of being as mad about horses as Camila herself. Theresa, of course, rode regularly out at Bill's hacienda; she'd been surprised, and a little confounded, Camila thought contentedly, when Camila had said yes, she'd been there and had met La Dama Oscura. Theresa hadn't stayed long, though, and now it was after eleven and drawing towards the big midnight celebration.

Camila sighed, bored. Her father was deep in conversation with some of his new cronies, learning the political ins and outs of Madrigal's higher echelons and much less interested in keeping his daughter entertained. She decided she needed a pee. The flush of blood at the memory of Bill's... request hadn't been restricted to her face. She'd felt that tingle between her legs that had accompanied her undressing for him, a sweet, confusing reaction, unexpected. She'd felt sure she would feel dirty and humiliated, and she had done, kind of, but there'd been something else there, something deeper, darker, pleasurable. She'd wanted to strip for him, she'd wanted to feel his (oh my God!) cock. It was wrong, wrong wrong wrong, she knew it was wrong, but it felt right all at the same time, dirty and wrong and right. He wanted her, really, really wanted her, maybe loved her, and that was head-spinning...

She asked a white-jacketed waiter where the nearest bathroom was, and followed his directions up the grandly curving staircase to the second floor. Strange there wasn't a downstairs convenience in such a large house, but anyway. Along this hallway, was it?

"Camila." His voice was soft, but electrifying. She froze. "Come this way, my angelita."

He was there, in the shadows of a short passageway to the right. She turned, unable to do anything else. She saw his smile, his eyes glittering in the dark. A door opened behind him, soft light flickering on, silhouetting him. It was a bathroom.

She followed him, her steps slow, her heart pounding again, her hands suddenly slick. The door clicked behind them. The room was softly, richly lit, elegantly appointed, marble floor and gilt fittings. A lavatory, a bidet, a sink and bath, all in early twentieth century styling, white and gold, understated luxury and exquisite taste.

His hand brushed hair behind her ear. His eyes captivated her again. His thumb caressed her face, which flushed again, her cheeks hot. He smiled. "My sweet angelita, I have missed you. How are you?"

From somewhere she found her voice. "W... well, thank you. Mr... Bill. Well. I, uh, need to pee." More than ever now, she thought, her thoughts whirling.

"I know," he replied softly. "Go ahead, there is no shame between us."

Oh my God! No, I can't do that! "But...!"

He raised a finger to her lips, shushing her, then stepped back to lean against the wall. He folded his arms. She could see the bulge in his dress pants. His eyes were friendly, but intense, oh, so intense. Oh God no...

How long she stood there, torn with so many forms of indecision, she couldn't begin to tell, but maybe it was just a second or two. Half in a trance, she turned to the lavatory, slowly, slowly raising the gorgeous red velvet of her skirts. She'd fallen in love with this dress the moment she saw at - and part of her, she now realized, had asked "will Bill like it?". She heard his soft intake of breath - he did like it, or at least he liked the way it rose up her thighs. Snapping back into real time, she held her skirts under her arms and quickly slipped down her panties, thankful she wasn't wearing tights. She sat quickly, using the bunched velvet as a shield to hide herself.

He smiled, nonchalantly. "I love your dress, my Camila. Did you think of me when you chose it?" Oh God he was reading her thoughts. She couldn't pee. "I... I can't pee..."

"Sure you can. It is natural. Everything between you and me is natural, there is nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide."

An age passed. Camila closed her eyes, and her bladder eventually won the day. She peed quickly, all the while conscious of the man watching her from a couple of yards away. He was silent, but his presence beat upon her closed eyelids like dark wings. Her urine stream sounded like a waterfall, deafening in the stillness.

She looked around for paper, then opened her legs quickly to wipe herself. She was on the verge of rising when he was suddenly there, right in front of her. She looked up into his face, and the naked desire there made her moan softly. He reached over her shoulder, flushed, then slowly, slowly trailed his hand over the bare skin of her shoulder, down the bodice of her dress, across her hand, clutching the front of her skirts.

He was kneeling in front of her, between her legs! Oh God... She felt his hands on her naked thighs, warm, dry, firm, commanding. As he pulled her gently towards him she had no resistance. He pushed her thighs apart; she felt herself opening for him.

"Oh Camila..." he murmured, "such a beautiful flower."

As if in a dream she watched his head dip lower. Part of her watched, distant, appalled, as another part of her opened her legs and thrust her bottom forward on the lavatory seat to meet him.

Oh this was wrong, dirty! No, no! Oh God no!

Oh yes yes yes yes please kiss me just there...

"Ahh!"

His tongue caressed her kitty. He felt soft, firm, warm, wet, eager, practised and utterly electrifying. Her mind whirled and fizzed and popped; blood coursed through her, her kitty suddenly hot. Oh God how could he *do* that? How could that feel so...? Small sounds escaped her mouth, soft plosives, pants, as his tongue caressed her tingling kitty, playing between her spreading lips, dancing around the small, hot, sensitive place at the top. Oh Lord it felt so good...

Her body began to do things that her mind seemed to take its time in noticing. Her legs were spread wide now, as wide as she could get them, and the soft outer lips of her kitty were open to his mouth. When had she done that? It was too much, too slutty! Oh God but she wanted him... Her dress seemed to be bunched up under her chin, her belly bared as if she wanted to expose more of herself to him, be more naked for him, give herself to him utterly. And oh God! her other hand was down in her crotch, fingers near her kitty, holding it open. She was holding her kitty open so this man could lick her!

Her thighs trembled, tension racking them. At the point where they met a cauldron of sweet intensity was bubbling, boiling inside her. Her own occasional rubs of her kitty were nothing, nothing compared to Bill's mouth and tongue, here in this ornate bathroom, a New Year's party audible through the door. She closed her eyes. Her face was hot. Her whole kitty tingled. His circles around her button, her clitty, made her gasp. His tongue explored her hymen and she wanted, so wanted, him to burst it, take her virginity, make her a woman. Oh Lord she wanted his penis, his cock, she wanted it inside her, in her kitty - oh Lord, in her mouth! What was happening? What was he doing to her? A few hours ago she had been a nervous, shameful young girl - now she wanted to suck this man's cock and feel it penetrate her, fill her up, ejaculate in her!

Oh God! Ejaculate in her!

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Her kitty exploded. A sudden tightening of every muscle in her body, and a sudden release: every scrap of tension crashing out through one small place. She arched her back and thrust her hips forward, slipping on the seat as she started cumming into his mouth. His lips surrounded her kitty, his tongue lapped her clit and her orgasm burned through her young body like sweet wildfire.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!"

Her fist was rigid in her bunched dress. Her panties were stretched twanging tight between her feet. Her other hand was in his hair, pressing his face in between her gaping thighs as she came and came. In his hair! Pushing him in!

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Ohhhh God! Ohhhh God! Oh God!"

Spasms, waves, ripples...

Reality swam back slowly. Her thighs quivered, her breath panted. She could feel her face and chest, hot and tingling. Her whole crotch fizzed; her kitty felt warm and wet.

She opened her eyes.

He was standing, looking at her, smiling. Not a bad smile, not an arrogant smile, but a smile of delight. She looked down, not able to meet his gaze.

"No, angelita, no shame! There is no shame between us. You are beautiful, a beautiful, beautiful girl, and I am privileged. Here -"

He reached down to lift her chin. She kissed him softly before she realized she was tasting herself on his lips.

"Oh, angelita, Camila," he murmured, and she felt the trembling in his fingers. She raised her hand, bumping the iron-hard bulge in the front of his pants but he stepped away. She saw the effort of will in his face and her heart skipped.

"Nearly midnight, my angel. I will go first. Join us for the celebration soon. And next year -" he smiled, a sweet, lopsided smile - "you will come to visit La Dama and we will have... more time."

He was gone, through the door, closing it behind him. She summoned the presence of mind to stumble off the seat and lock it again, then slumped to the marble. She squeezed her thighs tight together, marveling at the sensitivity in her kitty. She stayed there a good few minutes, feeling the pulse of her blood slowly return to normal, feeling the hot flush across her face and neck slowly subside. Time to go. Time to find daddy for the midnight cheering.

And in the New Year... she and Bill would have more time...

Oh God...

Thirteen

"You sure you're OK about this, sweetheart?"

Her father's driving was as careful as ever, moreso perhaps since he took delivery of the new Toyota SUV. A company car, a "welcome to the executive" gift. Bill's gift, perhaps. Camila wasn't sure it suited him.

Bill.

All week, every thought she'd had had returned to him and what he'd done to her, for her in the bathroom on New Year's Eve. Every thought sent tingles through her crotch, made her kitty damp. Oh God it was so naughty, wicked. She couldn't do this, even for the new-found hope in her father's eyes. It was wrong.

Oh God it felt so good. His lips caressing her down there, his tongue licking her wanton openness until she came... Oh God! Such an orgasm... such a feeling... She wanted it again, had wanted it again all week; since going to bed early New Year's Day she'd wanted that feeling again, wanted that strong, sure man to make her body sing again. She'd masturbated that very night, tired though she was, that night and every night since, fantasizing about Bill taking her, taking her virginity (no! stop! that's wicked!), making her his any way he wanted. What had started as a thoroughly indecent proposal on his part had become something... else in her mind. Her brain flip-flopped - and her kitty was wet again...

"Ca-mi-la! Coo-ee!"

Whoops!

"Uh, sorry, daddy, I was... day dreaming. What?"

"Camila, sweetie, you've just been really weird all week. Are you sure you don't mind this weekend? It's kinda sudden, I know, but, well, you like the horses and Bill says his niece really likes you, so... And you know I gotta work..."

"Daddy, it's fine, really. It'll be cool to ride with Theresa, she's OK, and Bi -Mr Kirchener said I could have a regular job at the stables if I wanted."

Carlos chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Sweetie, I know you'll hate me for saying this but you're only gonna help my new career move out by being nice to my boss, you know -but you know I'd never use you like that, don't you?"

Oh daddy! Oh God, daddy, if only...!

Nearly, nearly it slipped out. Nearly - but not quite.

"Of course, daddy," she replied, looking out of the window at the gently rolling hills. She turned back and flashed him a smile. "Of course, silly!"

Carlos smiled back, then chuckled again. "Actually, Bill let it slip that he can't stand Theresa, drives him up the wall she does, so you're doing him a bigger favor than you realize! Ah, here we go!"

And a few minutes later, there she was, looking out across the dusty fields and paddocks from the long second-floor balcony of Bill's gorgeous country place, a glass of ice water in her hand, her heart thumping. Her father had dropped her off, with hugs and promises not to schmooze too late and be all grumpy tomorrow, and a solid, soft-spoken guy had taken her bag and conducted her to the balcony. "Mr Kirchener asked that you wait for him here, miss. Miss Theresa is just getting ready for her morning riding lesson."

Mid-morning and the sun was warm for the time of year - actually a lovely morning for a good hack. She put her glass down on a convenient table and folded her arms on the balcony railing. A noise from around the corner of the house made her turn, and there suddenly was Bill's niece Theresa, mounted on a sturdy pony, walking carefully into view. The girl looked up and saw her, then waved, a rather regal, spoiled-little-girl wave but friendly enough.

Camila watched her for a minute or so until a soft footfall behind her made her stiffen. A shiver ran down her spine, and back again.

"Camila, my angelita. So good to see you again. So good. No, don't move, just stay there, let me look at you."

She'd turned to see him, her heart hammering now, her mouth dry, but turned back at his command, leaning back against the balcony, her hands gripping the polished wood as he approached. He stood next to her, leaning slightly, and waved to his niece as she trotted now across the paddock, taking directions from a female voice out of sight below the balcony.

"Hello Mr... Bill. Hello - oh!"

His hand rested lightly between her shoulder blades. Her spine tingled again, electricity this time, as his finger began to trace its way down.

"Keeping watching Theresa, angelita. Keep waving to Theresa. She rides well, yes? But not as well as you."

She trembled. A soft, low moan escaped her as his hand, hidden from any view below, slowly descended to cup her buttock through her denim skirt. His fingers squeezed, their pressure perfect.

"Mmm. Your ass is gorgeous, Camila. Just gorgeous." His voice was low, a murmur. His words sent tremors through her whole body, tremors which seemed all to finish up in one place. "You know what I want to do with your ass, Camila? Hmmm?"

His hand descended further, and suddenly he was lifting her skirt! Oh Lord! Her gaze fixed forward at the girl on the horse, she felt her skirt rising until she knew her butt was completely exposed. Bill's fingers traced her butt crack through her panties - and inadvertently she pushed her hips back. She felt herself do it - hips back, butt out, back arching slightly - at the same time as part of yelled No! Don't be a slut!

Bill's chuckle was breathy. It made the wetness pulse in her kitty.

"You remember what I did to you last time, Camila, what I did with my tongue? You think about that now, think about my tongue inside you. Your pussy has the most heavenly taste, angelita, sweet and fresh and so, so beautiful.

"Watch Theresa. Keep waving. She likes you, thinks you're cool. I know she's annoying, but she is useful, yeah? I invite you here to play with her and I get to play with you.

"Mmm, your panties are a little damp, Camila! A little damp here... right here at the back, right where your little pussy is... Damp panties, you naughty girl! Do you like me touching you there... stroking your bottom like this... or maybe your butt crack, like this...? Or are you thinking of my tongue, of how it felt in your sweet young cunt? Keep thinking that. Keep waving to Theresa, but imagine my tongue inside your wet little cunt."

She was dizzy. His fingers, his words. He'd used the dirtiest word she knew, and it just made her wetter. His fingers traced the lines of her kitty from behind, and the feeling was so intoxicating she could barely focus on Theresa's trotting and pouting and waving.

Bill leaned a little closer. She caught sweet mint on his breath.

"I'm going to pull your panties down now, slowly. Keep watching my annoying niece as she jogs around on that horse. Keep watching, and feel your panties coming off. Feel me pulling them down, Camila, pulling your knickers slowly down over your ass."

Oh God yes! He was doing it! Here, in public, outside, on the balcony, Theresa just down there, he was pulling her panties off. She moaned, involuntary, animal. He murmured his reply.

"Push your ass out, Camila. Push your butt out like a little whore so I can feel your holes."

Like a little whore? Yes. Yes, for him, she would be a little whore. Yes, oh yes.

"Mmm, yesss! You are wet! Mmm! See, see how easily my finger can slide across your pussy? See how slippery you are. You love it, Camila, you know it. You love to be touched by me. You want my hands all over you, I know...

"Mmm, there. Right there, angelita. Oh, I can feel your heat! You're in heat, angelita, wet and hot! Feel that? Mmm, yes you do... Mmm, so hot... You're so hot there, in your cunt. Your cunt, Camila, your hot little cunt..."

His finger rubbed her now, slippery between the lips of her flushed-hot kitty. He reached underneath her, pressing her clitty in a way that made her legs tremble, and rubbed long, slow strokes between her lips. She pushed her hips again, wanton, and shifted her feet, opening her legs as much as her tight-stretched panties would allow to give him more room. Give him more room to touch her, rub her, touch her... her pussy. Her... Oh God, her cunt!

And then his hand disappeared. She looked sideways and caught his eyes, blazing, burning into hers. Anything. Anything.

"Here, spit," he demanded softly. "Spit in my hand. She's not looking. Spit! A big one..."

His fingers were right at her lips. Still gazing into his eyes she spat, drooling saliva onto his fingers like a little whore might. He smiled.

"There now! OK."

He waved his other hand at Theresa, then suddenly his wet fingers were at her butt crack. Oh God was he...?

"Mmm, feel your spit dripping onto your asshole now, angelita. Your spit, my finger..."

Camila's head span again as Bill circled his finger twice, three times around her butthole, then...

"Mmm, yeah... yeahhhh! Right up your ass, angelita! Fuck that's sweet! You feel that? How deep can I push it? How deep can I push my finger up your sweet ass while you keep smiling at Theresa - see, she's waving back! Wave at her, Camila. She doesn't know I have my finger right up your asshole. You like that? Yeah, but you wish it was my cock, yeah?"

Oh God he'd just pushed his finger up her butt! It felt huge, a monstrous invasion of her body, a dirty, dirty violation - but blood pounded in her kitty and her juices flowed steadily. He wriggled it inside her and it felt... good.

"You like me to fuck you in your asshole, Camila? I will, angelita. It will be tight and we'll take it slow, but you're gonna love the feel of my cock filling your ass. I'm gonna fuck you in the ass, angelita, but not the first time, no. The first time, Camila, angelita, first time we're alone I am gonna fuck you but I'm gonna fuck your sweet cunt. You're gonna ask me to - 'please, Bill, please fuck my cunt, take my virginity, make me a woman' - and I will. Soon, baby girl, soon I'm gonna make you a woman."

His finger probed and tickled in her asshole; his thumb rubbed her hot, wet kitty. Camila closed her eyes, her head drooping, her breathing fast and hard. "Oh God, Bill, please, oh - ohhhhhhhhh!"

The orgasm caught her by surprise, hard, hot, intense, an explosion in her kitty. Her knees buckled, her skirt falling back down, but Bill caught her. She leaned against him as reality swam back, then suddenly he stepped away, clapping, looking down into the paddock.

"Bravo! Bravo!" He turned to her, grinning. "See, Theresa has just about finished. You want to come down to the stables now, get saddled up and go for a ride around the ranch? Yeah, sure, but maybe you better put pants on first. Lemme show you to your room and I'll meet you downstairs, OK?"

Camila nodded. There was nothing else to say.

Fourteen

It was only through a combination of tight boxer trunks and loose linen pants that Bill was able to disguise the fact that his cock had been erect all day. Ever since he heard her father saying goodbye this morning he'd been hard - achingly, wetly hard through the welcome on the balcony, throbbing at the sight of her twelve-year-old ass in riding jodhpurs as his irritating niece took her out around the ranch, then stiff beneath the table on the sun porch at lunch.

It was some kind of madness, he knew now. This girl, this young girl, this angel of temptation with raven-black wings and tiger eyes, had woven some sort of spell around him, some charm of madness. There was only her. Friends, colleagues, shooting, business, nothing came close now, nothing - there was her, only her, and how to possess her.

Was it love? Had one of the most successful businessmen in the country, boss of his own private equity outfit, fallen for a schoolgirl? Madness. Lust, then? Did he just want to fuck her because she was young and beautiful and because he could? No, no that wasn't it either. Love-lust? Something like that. Madness.

He wanted every part of her to be his, every inch of her heavenly young body. But he wanted her to want him as much. He wanted her to crave his love-making, wanted her to beg for his tongue, his fingers, his cock, wanted her to feel empty without him inside her. She had his soul, so he wanted hers.

He wanted to do the dirtiest things with her, have the most depraved sex possible with a young girl, but he wanted her to want it too. And maybe she would. "Little whore" he'd said, and she hadn't blinked, baulked or blanched, just stuck her ass out further. And the look in her eyes as she'd spit slowly into his hand, the saliva glistening on her lips like a promise of heaven... Goddamn he had had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself kneeling behind her and licking her ass and pussy, tonguing her cunt and rimming her asshole until she came, then taking her anally, orally, vaginally there on the balcony...

It was madness, in both of them. He wanted her to fist his ass; he knew she would do it if he asked. He wanted to lie down and have her stand above him and piss, feel her hot girl's urine covering his body. He wanted to piss on her - he knew she would let him - watch his erect cock pissing across her smooth, flat belly. He wanted to cum in her face, her mouth, her ass, her cunt, all over her sweet, heavenly body - and he knew that she wanted him to.

His cock ached madly. His boxers were wet, the spots of precum having merged to make a slick mess of his underwear. He was waiting at the stables, watching the two girls return. Theresa, almost the full year younger, and a royal pain-in-the-ass, had truly taken to Camila. Maybe it was because Camila was beautiful, and Theresa wasn't, but Camila didn't know she was beautiful, and so Theresa had a beautiful friend with no airs or graces. And she was, so, so beautiful, and so unassuming, and so hot...

"Hey, ladies! How was that?"

Camila looked fabulous. Even in a riding hat she looked like an angel, and those tight jodhpurs brought fresh wetness to the end of his cock. There was a faint smear of mud across her right buttock that somehow just made him grind his teeth with an aching lust. That and the sleeveless top. He knew she'd picked that for him, to drive him wild with glimpses of her pretty little-girl training bra. It worked.

He helped the girls and Mdm Fontanelle, Theresa's riding instructor, brush down the horses, water and feed them and get them back into there stalls, then dismissed Madame for the day. As Theresa and Camila were getting ready to head inside, he sprang the good news.

"Theresa, Mrs Valles is here to give you your piano lesson now. Now, no arguments! I promised your mother you would practice this weekend, so practice you will. Go and shower quickly, then straight to the drawing room, yes? Go!"

While a spoiled brat, Theresa did have the saving grace of being that little bit afraid of him and so, with only a token protest, she scooted off. As she was leaving, Bill turned to Camila and asked, not too ostentatiously, "Camila, you wanna say hello to La Dama again before you get cleaned up?"

"Sure, Mr Kirchener," she replied, her eyes on his. "I'd like that."

"OK."

He led her to the stall at the end of the row, the furthest from La Dama. She made no comment as he drew her into the empty wooden box. He turned, his heart hammering, and bent to kiss her. Her small mouth opened for him. Their tongues met, reached past each other. He pulled her tight to him, pressing the hardness of his cock against the soft warmth of her belly. He held her slight body between his hands and drank her in.

Slowly he moved them toward the back wall of the stall, still kissing. Something about the slight gaucheness, the eager yet unsophisticated way she kissed him was unbelievably erotic. He pushed her against the wooden wall, breaking off to look into her eyes. The glowed and glittered, fragments of green in the shadowed stall. Her breath came quickly, panting between her glorious lips. She was still hot from the riding, a delicate flush across her forehead. Gorgeous girl.

He reached out, took her hands, and raised them slowly above her head. Her arms were slender, tanned, smooth, beautiful. The top she wore bared her to just above the thin strap of her young girl's bra. He leaned over, dipping his head, and slowly ran his tongue from the edge of her top up, across the delicate valley of her armpit. She was salty, sweet, tasting of sun-warmed girl. He licked her again. This time she moaned, a sound like nothing else, a pre-teen girl moaning in sexual arousal at his touch.

He moved across, his face passing across hers, her eyes tracking his. He licked her other armpit, relishing her taste, her sound, the soft panting of her breath.

From somewhere came a distant, discordant piano chord.

"Take it off," he whispered, letting go of her arms.

Without hesitation she slipped off her t-shirt, letting it fall to the straw.

"And your bra, angelita. You are too young for such constraints. Take it off, give your breasts to me. I want to taste them, angelita."

She mewed. There was no other word for it - a little cat-sound, a kitten's mew as she reached behind her, fumbling slightly, before unclasping the lacy bra and letting it slide off her arms.

Those perfect high budding breasts. Her nipples stood erect, hard little points. He licked her, his tongue playing across her left breast, scraping slowly across the deliciously hard nipple. The kitten mewed again, but an aroused kitten now, a hot little sex kitten that wanted his mouth on her body. He felt her hands at his back, the back of his neck, as he licked her.

"Ah, angelita, every inch of you is a feast...," he murmured.

Another discord from the house.

"But today it is your turn, my little one." He stepped back. "See what you have done to me, my angel."

She knew. At once she knew. Topless, her chest heaving, her eyes part glazed, part ablaze, she knelt in front of him. Bill watched avidly as she reached out and slowly, carefully, unzipped his pants. The sight of a young girl unzipping him, reaching her fingers in carefully to pull out his cock...

Her fingers closed on him and carefully tugged him free. He watched her face - her eyes widened, her first view of his cock, massively erect, glistening, red, angry. Hers.

"Yours, angelita," he whispered, "you made that. You make me so hard all the time, Camila, all the time I want you like this."

He reached down, grasped his cock near the base, freeing it fully from his pants.

"Look up at me," he whispered, "look into my eyes." She did, and she flinched only briefly as he began to stroke the wet, slippery head of his cock across her sweet face. He nuzzled her with it, beads of precum leaving moist trails across her flawless cheeks. "Keeping looking at me." He held her gaze as he slowly rubbed her face with his cock. It pulsed beneath his fingers.

When he placed it to her lips he didn't need to say anything. She opened her mouth, still holding his gaze. Slowly he nudged forward, feeding his cock between her sweet-soft lips, into her hot-wet mouth. When the head disappeared completely, he stopped.

"Suck my cock, angelita. Suck me off."

Inexpertly, she sucked his cock. He reveled in her naivety, but slowly began to teach her what her liked. Always her eyes on his, she learned quickly, licking him, sucking him with more and more skill until the weeks of lust and fear and madness began roiling and swirling in his balls. To slow things down he let her take him in as far as she could without gagging, and just held it there for a minute and more, eyes locked, his cock just resting in her gloriously wet mouth. Drool escaped her lips and dripped and splattered across her naked breasts.

He was panting now, the pressure in his balls unbelievable, the ache in his cock beautifully painful. Soon, oh fuck very soon...

He held his cock hard at the base with one hand, and cupped her silk-soft head with the other. Slowly, gently, he rocked, fucking her gorgeous little mouth, all the time his eyes on hers. She rested her hands on her knees and let him fuck her. She was his.

"Oh God, Camila, angel... Oh God! Oh God...!

"Ohhhhhhhhh!"

He withdrew just as he began ejaculating. A great gout of cum spurted as his orgasm crashed through him, a long, splattering rope of white that covered her chest. Again, and again, his cock twitching and bucking like a stallion, he came across her breasts and throat and belly, covering her young beauty in weeks of pent-up semen. Thick, white, glistening, all across her high girlish breasts. She looked fabulous.

After six or seven ejaculations he subsided against the stall wall, his heart pounding, his cock still twitching. She was still looking at him, her face a mask of girlish lust, her hand flat against her chest, semen oozing through her fingers. As he watched, she raised her fingers to her mouth and licked. One by one she licked her fingers, cleaning the thick white goo from them. At this his balls contracted, his cock spasmed again and a final bead of pure white cum oozed onto the tip of his cock.

The raven-haired schoolgirl angel leaned forward and delicately sucked it off.

He shivered; his belly heaved, the ripples of his orgasm. He'd imagined this moment from the first time he'd set eyes on her - but then again he hadn't. Nowhere close. He looked down into her glowing green eyes as she held him, gently licking his cock, a look he couldn't read on her gorgeous, gorgeous face. Fuck she was astonishing. Fuck she was glorious. Fuck she was hot.

"Oh my sweet little angel," he murmured, "you and I will have *such* good times..."

Fifteen

Dinner had been surreal. Theresa had chattered, the way she seemed to all the time. Bill had been polite, fun, charming, lovely and - she was almost certain she wasn't meant to think this way at her age, but there was no other word for it - sexy. He'd looked at her that way, his eyes glowing like coals at the heart of a fire, and it was as if he controlled her body that way. Every time, she'd shivered, flushed, memories of the day surging into her mind, making her drop her fork, or knock over the salt or some dumb thing. She'd kept her knees ground together under her favorite summer dress, and her panties were damp again by dessert.

What had happened? What was happening to her? A wicked, sleazy proposition, an immoral abuse of adult authority - but she loved it. Three, four times now she'd had dirty sex with a grown man, a man her daddy's age - her daddy's boss, for God's sake! - and... And she hadn't felt dirty herself, or ashamed or any of the stuff she thought she might. She'd felt hot. She'd felt desired, lusted after, and that just felt so sexy, just so sexy... God she'd let him lick her kitty on the john! And she'd felt so hot, so good. And she'd... sucked his... his thing, his cock! and... and she'd loved the way it tasted, loved the power it gave her - looking into his eyes (oh God those eyes!) and seeing the fire there and knowing that she had started it...

It wasn't like she imagined it was going to be. Nothing like. She'd done it for daddy, but now she wanted it for her.

After dinner she and Theresa had started watching a movie, one of the High School Musicals, but after a half-hour or so Theresa had starting yawning and nodding. Bill kept popping in and out, and as soon as he saw Theresa's head drooping he'd ordered her to bed. His housekeeper and other staff had retired for the night, so he bundled her off himself. Camila had stayed watching the movie, and when he returned he'd stood behind the sofa and stroked her hair, softly, his fingers drawing gently through the strands.

"You want to finish watching, honey?"

His touch made her shiver, but not in a bad way. Definitely not in a bad way.

"Um, no, I don't think so."

He'd leaned down, his lips next to her ear.

"Go to your room, angelita. Just wait there."

And so... Her room was one of the guest suites in the southeast corner of the sprawling hacienda, a lovely room with large windows looking out across the rear gardens to the lightly-forested hills beyond. There were curtains, but they were open, and a mystical sheen of moonlight illuminated everything. She stood gazing out of the window, waiting. She knew. She knew what tonight would bring.

She turned when she heard the door open softly, close softly. It was him. She faced him, still waiting, as he looked at her from the shadows. His eyes glittered. Her heart began to race as he walked slowly towards her. Oh my God he was naked! Moonlight shivered across his body, a lean, hard body, deep-chested, narrow-waisted. She'd seen her father naked, but this, this was something else, something... other. Some force beat off him in waves, something so male it made her head spin, made her belly quiver.

And oh God he was erect! His cock stood straight, pointing right at her as he approached. It was huge! Had it been this big before, in the stables? Oh God could she...? He whispered her name, low and soft, and she shivered. His eyes held her, a butterfly pinned once more. Her legs trembled. He stopped in front of her, his handsome face a mixture of soft and hard in the moonlight, kindness and lust. Maybe even love? Maybe. He reached out and caressed her hair, brushing his fingers through it gently, lovingly. Did he love her? Oh he did, surely he did! Did she love him? That one was easy. Yes. Yes oh yes.

His right hand caressed her cheek, cool and firm. She felt her head tilt up toward his, tilt of its own accord, no thought from her. His thumb brushed her lips, tracing their shape across, down, back. She looked into his eyes, a glittering black in the moonlight, and slowly opened her mouth for him. There was nothing she could do to resist what she saw in his eyes. Nothing.

Slowly he pushed his thumb into her mouth, his fingers resting lightly against her cheek. Slowly his thumb entered her mouth, and she knew then she was lost. Lost to him entirely. Her tongue enveloped it, welcomed it, just as earlier she'd welcomed his cock. She would welcome whatever he chose to put inside her. She was his.

Take me, Bill, oh Bill take me. Make me into a woman.

The fingers of his other hand were at her breast. One by one the buttons of her simple, yellow summer dress popped open as his fingers walked their way down. His eyes never left hers, and his thumb filled her mouth. She felt saliva flowing, lubricant stimulated by his touch. She felt the same between her legs.

He brushed her dress off one shoulder, then the other. It made barely a sound as it slithered to the floor around her. His fingers traced her belly. His eyes held her. Her mind emptied.

With his right hand, the hand at her face, he pushed gently, guiding her backwards. His thumb stroked her tongue as he steered her back towards the bed. Three, four steps and the back of her knees met its edge and she sank slowly. He followed, his thumb never leaving her mouth. His other hand now was between her legs, and oh! he must feel the wetness in her panties! Oh he must know how much she wanted him. His touch was electric. His fingers caressed her kitty outside her panties, then inside. She moaned around his thumb as it explored her mouth, just as his other thumb explored her kitty. She felt it inside her, slipping between her wet lips, pressing the thin barrier between her and womanhood.

He leaned down, his glittering eyes holding her all the while, and kissed the side of her mouth. She felt herself drooling around his thumb, saliva trickling down her chin. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She heard his breathing, intense, labored, and she sensed the depth of his desire, his lust. Oh, oh yes...

She felt his fingers pull her panties to one side, felt something like a fat thumb touch her swollen kitty. It nuzzled her for a moment. Oh! He whispered her name, fierce, trembling, yearning almost - and then - pressure, delightful pressure! She spread her legs, wanting him. She moaned again, pleasure, fear, desire. She sucked his thumb hard as the pressure increased - then a sting, pain, fleeting, gone -and he was filling her, stretching her, taking her, fucking her.

Oh sweet Lord! It had hurt, but the hurt was going, washed away by the heat of her kitty as he fucked her. She sucked his thumb fiercely and held his gaze as his cock filled her pussy, her cunt - a kitty no longer as this man, this manipulative, driven, beautiful man fucked her. Her whole crotch fizzed, her thighs trembling, her belly heaving, her cunt wet and oh so glorious full. He was so hard, so soft, so gentle, so masterful. She gave herself to him, utterly.

Her orgasm came quickly, welling up in her like a sudden storm, a flash-flood, a sudden wave out of the blue. She clutched his broad back, her fingers digging into him as it struck. She cried his name aloud, a garbled sound around his thumb. Her whole body tensed as her pussy exploded, and in her ecstasy she felt him shudder and twitch and spasm inside her. She clung to him as she came, as he came, sweet consummation in the shivering moonlight.

Sixteen

Carlos nudged the SUV carefully out onto the main road away from Bill's country pile then glanced sideways at his daughter. She'd been quiet ever since he'd picked her up, gazing out the window in a, what, a dreamy way? Everything had seemed fine when he picked her up - she'd said a pleasant goodbye to Bill's niece, so clearly there hadn't been any falling out there. She'd been polite to Bill, who'd been at his urbanely charming best in return, but he got the feeling he was missing something. He'd asked as they set off, and she replied that she'd had a lovely time, nothing wrong at all, far from it, but still there seemed to be something different about her that didn't ring true.

Was her worrying too much? Was she OK? Or was he feeling guilty about working all weekend? Now they were out into the light Sunday traffic he tried again. "Babes, I'm really glad you had a nice time, but are you sure there's nothing wrong? You did behave, didn't you? No rows from Bill or anything? He can be scary when he -"

"Daddy, no!" There was no denying the smile on her face, his beautiful Camila. "Nothing like that, nothing at all. Bi - Mr Kirchener was really... nice. No it's -" She settled deeper into the seat. "It's maybe just - oh, I guess I just loved everything about it! The house, the horses, everything! And Bill's said I can visit as often as I like. Would that be OK? And do you think maybe, one day, we might be able to afford somewhere like...?"

He laughed, and it was a genuine laugh. "Oh sweetheart, are you getting bitten by the high-life bug?" He chuckled for a while, then said, "Well, I finished sorting the new loan from the company today, real low cost - and all our other debts are paid! It's saved us a packet, babes, and with what I'm earning now, well, I think we can dare to dream a little, honey, I really think we can."

Camila smiled at him, then looked happily out of the window again, toying with a strand of hair.

"Oh, daddy, it's so nice to hear you laugh again. Let's dare to dream, then!"

He smiled, a truly happy smile, and turned his eyes to the road. "Yeah, I think we can, babes. But until we get our own ranch," he continued, his tongue perhaps only partly in his cheek, "I guess you can hang out with Bill's horses as often as you want - so long as he doesn't get tired of you, that is."

He glanced across again. She was smiling broadly at the passing scenery, her fingers twining slowly in her long, black hair.