2001: A Grace Odyssey

Grace Tempus stood in the center of the crowded room, trying not to fidget as her mother slowly undressed the child.

The five year old was embarrassed by the gaze of so many people, watching her gradually become naked. Her little pink dress, her white lace edged petticoats, her cotton vest and then her matching white panties came away.

And she was forbidden to try to hide herself: her arms had to stay down by her side as her small body was exposed.

Even her pink socks and black shoes were removed and, quite naked, there was ripple of applause as she stood before so many guests. Grace blushed and hung her head in shame, even though she had been naked at her parents' parties before.

But this party was different. The room was more full than it had ever been and many of the adults had brought their children with them, all here to celebrate the New Year. And the naked child could feel all their eyes burning on her, murmurs of approval from the adults, giggles and even some sneers from the children.

Grace was aware all the eyes, old and young alike, feasted on her slim, hairless and flat-chested body. It was shortly before midnight, when 2000 would give way to 2001 and a new century.

It was an even sweeter coincidence that this was the 2000th day of Grace's life: as everyone agreed a fitting tribute to welcome in the new year. At midnight she would be 2001 herself. Days, rather than years, but such a thing needed to be celebrated. And Grace's parents had just the way to mark the turn of the millennium.

George and Gaynor Tempus had planned this carefully, even down to the clothes the woman would remove from the child. Clothes that allow the child to be denuded slowly, so everyone could see the child's body emerge. That was why the dress had buttons in the back, the petticoats a handy full length tie fastening, the vest with shoulder straps that could be peeled aside. The panties had two velcro tabs to allow them to be snapped away.

Grace only had to raise her feet for the socks to be removed, after her shoes had been unbuckled and slipped off. But lifting her feet allowed many to get a glimpse of that small, delicate slit unobstructed by hair.

The father stepped forward and applied to iron cage to his daughter's head, ignoring how she was sniffing the tears away. The iron settled on to Grace's slim shoulders and her small body seemed to sag under the weight. There were gasps of approval as the small prong at the front of the iron cage - a child's version of the old Scold's Bridle - was slipped into her mouth, its studded length designed to hold the girl's tongue down. A padlock was closed at Grace's throat to stop her removing the weighty head cage.

Gaynor draped a chiffon lace night gown over her daughter's shoulders, securing it with little bows at the shoulders - a negligee so short it barely covered the child's butt, and so fine that every detail, especially her tiny nipples, were clearly on show.

Next, George pulled his daughter's hands behind her and clipped handcuffs on her wrists and amid yet more sounds of delight from the party guests, Gaynor knelt and locked iron fetters to her child's thin ankles. Finally a chain was dropped from the top of the cage down the child's back, padlocked to her wrist cuff chain and then secured to her short ankle chain.

Several of the female guests were invited forward to fill the child's small cunt with ice cubes from their drinks and then, with Grace shivering and crying, a piece of duct tape was stuck over the child's crotch to keep them inside her - at least until they melted. Several of the men were allowed to rub ice cubes over the girl's nipples under her negligee, making her shiver and moan more.

Many children were not able to watch, as parents had pressed them into service: boys sucking the exposed erect cocks of excited fathers and girls with their heads up mother's skirts and dresses, slurping noisily.

It was time however for Grace to go outside and welcome the new year in. The chained child was ushered out the front door and into the snow covered gardens that surrounded the house. The child was shivering yet more from being outside in sub-arctic temperatures and she set off as quickly as her chains and weights allowed, passing in front of windows full of guests. Watching Grace make her slow, painful way round the house, trudging though the ankle-deep snow and shaking helplessly.

Inside, the warm and well-fed party guests sipped drinks and laughed at Grace's stumbling progress, tapping on the glass to make the tearful child look at them so they could hold up ice cubes to show what lay in store for her when she was admitted back in. Some children not on mouth duties watched too and made faces against the glass.

But Grace wouldn't be in for a while yet. The small child would have to go round the house twice before being allowed in. She would be walking, hobbled and bent, from one century to the next.

It began to snow, bringing applause from those inside. Already the large flakes were clinging to Grace, melting on her body, soaking her thin negligee and slowly drenching her straggly blonde hair.

This was an odyssey of agony for the five year old. Worse, the wind was getting up and the flakes stung hard, impeding the child's slow struggle. If she stopped walking she could hear, above the wind, hoots of derision from the guests.

Grace struggled on until she stood tearful and shivering at the front door. Her mother opened it and grinning, held up the whip they'd all be using to warmly welcome 2001 into their home.

The Laptop That Ate Paris

"Please tie me up and gag me, Daddy."

The words came up on the screen of Don's new laptop. He couldn't remember typing them and yet there they were, staring back.

Don Ibbert blinked, like the cursor. His hand shook as he hit the delete key and the seven words disappeared. All he could see was a blank screen. He looked up with heart thumping, wondering if his wife Kathy or his daughter Paris had noticed anything unusual, but they were absorbed in reading and watching TV.

And they couldn't see the laptop's screen from where his wife sat, or where Paris sprawled on the floor.

Don gulped and wondered if this was a prank by some unknown virus. Maybe computer users all over the world would be reporting the "Tie up" virus soon.

But he hadn't downloaded anything since he got the laptop. It must be a flaw in the computer, he thought. Machina Ex Deus: the god in the machine.

Paris, his nine year old daughter, shifted her position and her short skirt flicked back, revealing her blue pants. Don stared down and gulped quietly. Not because it was unusual to see her like that, but there was a sudden weird feeling in him.

The heat of the laptop on his lap, probably. Cautiously he shifted his position, his cock swelling under the weight of the laptop. He thought about what the computer had written - because he was sure he hadn't - and cautiously put his hands on the keyboard again.

"Please, Daddy, I really need to be bound and gagged. You can see all my panties if you bind me tight."

Don slammed the lid of the laptop down. His wife looked up from her book.

'Something wrong, dear?' Irene Ibbert was looking right at him.

'No! Thought I'd write a report... guess I can't get started.' He blushed, aware his cock at full erection. Thank heavens the laptop hid it.

'Computers are magic,' said Paris, not taking her eyes of the TV show she was watching. Her skirt was even further up, bubble butt almost on full view.

No one said anything about so much displayed. Don's cock stiffened fully. He groaned.

He lifted the lid again. There were more words: "Daddy, I know you can see me and you want to tie me up. I know you've always wanted to bind me and gag me and play with me." As the man watched more words appeared. "I love you Daddy and it'd make me happy if you'd get some rope and something to put in my mouth. Love, Paris."

Don stared at his wife, suddenly realizing she was reading a book called "The Car That Ate Paris." The TV was playing "Charmed", the kids-as-witches show.

The screen blinked one more sentence. "Please, I promise I won't scream when I'm gagged."

Don sat and wondered, and waited.

The show was over and Paris went upstairs. Don closed the laptop, tucked it under his arm and followed her. Irene looked up at him and simply smiled.

In Paris's bedroom she was sat on the edge of her bed. She smiled, skirt hitched back, pants on view. Don checked the screen of his laptop. "Tie me up now, Daddy. There's some rope under the bed," it read, "and a gag in my drawer."

Don almost panicked and fled, but he knew he had to do it. He put down the computer and went under the bed by his daughter's white socked feet, bringing out the rope. Soft white rope. In the drawer there was a rubber ball on a thin strap.

Paris offered no resistance as he made her stand, tied her hands behind her. She said nothing as he bound her elbows tight, forcing her to push her flat chest out. The gag went in with no effort, the strap buckled firmly. He unzipped her skirt and let it fall so he could see all of her blue panties.

The laptop was flashing something new. Heart racing, cock rigid, he read it: "Finger me, please, Daddy."

Paris had her little legs apart where she stood. Don knelt, eased her pants off. He put his hand over her wet, warm hairless slit. His finger went in smoothly, deep into the hot cavern. Above him, his daughter moaned in rising excitement.

Don pistoned his hand in and out, making her buck but not against her bonds. Do nine year olds cum? He'd soon find out. On the laptop, the words came up: "Fuck me!"

Don laid his daughter down and bound her ankles apart. He put rope round her slim neck and tied it to the bed-head.

"Hurry," flashed the computer.

Don hurried, his iron cock free. He lowered himself, crushing his daughter under him, her gagged gurgling noises increasing as the rope at her throat tightened. His cock slid in as if she was made for him, gripping his length in a tight, wet velvet dream.

'I love you, Paris,' he whispered. She grunted back, eyes closed as he thrust hard. Deep and hard, making her give a strangled cry.

Don stroked his daughter's hair as he fucked her. He wound her hair round his fingers, torturing her by pulling hard. Tears ran down her cheeks, wetting the sheets under her head.

He came and under him Paris gave a strange, primal groan.

He got off the girl after a while, his semen puddling out of the child's open sex.

"Thankyou, Daddy," blinked the screen.

Don looked up, startled. The show was playing for his daughter, his wife still reading. On the laptop screen was his new sex fantasy. The cursor blinking as if waiting for him to finish. To cum, really.

'Paris,' he said. 'Please hop up and suck my cock.' The child sighed at the interruption, but got up to take his exposed hard dick in her little mouth.

Behind Paris, Irene smiled and reached out to finger her daughter's cute asshole.

Bobby's Girl

'Stand still, sweetheart,' said Jodie's mom firmly as she tied her fourteen year old daughter's wrists behind her. 'I can't do it when you're wriggling.'

'Mom, please don't tie me today,' Jodie begged over her naked shoulder. 'Can't I just stay in my room while you and Bobby, just... y'know...'

'No,' said Cathy as she hoisted the rope at the child's wrists tight, making her daughter yelp. 'You know full well Bobby likes you down here to greet him.'

'But the ropes hurt!' Jodie gave another cry as her mother cinched the ropes.

'That's because you don't relax,' snapped the mother, but regretted her outburst. She didn't want to upset her daughter before the boyfriend arrived. Bobby always insisted the teenage girl was bound and gagged while he had sex with the mother. More than that, he liked to see her all bound and hurting when he arrived.

But the child should have learnt by now. Bobby had been visiting for six months now, at least twice a week. Jodie should be used to it all.

'Listen,' said Cathy with a concerned look as she turned her daughter to face her. 'You want me to be happy, don't you?'

'Yes,' mumbled the child, eyes down.

Cathy, squatted down in front of Jodie so she could look direct into her only child's eyes. 'Listen to me. Bobby loves me and in his way he loves you. It's just that he thinks girls should be tied up while he and I make love.'

'You don't make love. You fuck,' said the child hotly. She could see her mom's yawning cleavage in the black low cut top she wore, her red bra lace peeking out at the top. The whore look, Bobby called it, to go with the short red plastic skirt the woman wore and the white high heels and dark stockings. 'He ties you up too. I know, I've seen the marks on your wrists afterwards. Like mine.'

Cathy colored up a little. 'Honey, we play games, that's all. Bobby likes fun in the bedroom. But those are just games.'

'He gags you too. I heard you screaming all muffled up. Like I do when you spank me, when I have to wear my gag.'

'I only spank you because you oughtta behave yourself already, okay?' Cathy was feeling flustered. Bobby would be here soon and there was still the large rubber ball gag to go in the child's mouth as well as ropes round Jodie's naked chest and arms, around her knees and ankles. It wouldn't do not to be ready. Either of them.

'We can have a treat afterwards,' smiled the mother, rubbing her daughter's arms in affection. 'Maybe go get you a pretty new dress.'

'What... like the ones you have to wear?'

'Excuse me?'

'Those plastic clothes with the cut out holes. Where your nipples poke through. And the big hole in the back so your butt shows.' The child paused, studying the surprised look on her mother's face. 'I wanna look like you do, mom.'

'Why?'

''Cos if I do maybe Bobby will want me, too. He'll want to... fuck me.'

'Jodie! That's not going to happen and you know it. I also told you it isn't about the clothes.'

'But I'd look good in black plastic!'

The mother grimaced as she picked up more ropes. 'We've been through all this before. Now stand still while I tie your arms and your legs properly.'

'Mom... Bobby won't mind if it's just my hands.' The child sounded desperate, not wanting another three hours in unyielding bondage.

'He will mind. I know. He told me.' Cathy didn't add that he'd make the woman suffer too. Without another word she began tying her child's arms, pulling her elbows close together, making Jodie squeal. The gag went in and Jodie stopped squealing. Grunting, but not too loudly.

More ropes went round Jodie's upper body, binding the child's emerging breasts to her. Cutting across them. A rope round the child's waist and down between her legs. Cutting up into her, bringing tears to the fourteen year old's eyes. She struggled as more rope secured her knees and ankles, but she was struggling from the discomfort of the ropes on her cunt and the way the strands crushed her small tits.

Only when Cathy had finished could she step back and regard her heavily bound, naked daughter. She hated to see her like this in one way but it excited Bobby, and that would mean a good fuck for the woman. He'd be here soon, and she smiled, wondering if he liked the way the teenager had been tied today.

Gently, Cathy eased her daughter down so her knees were resting on the sharp wooden edge placed on the floor in front of the child. Understandably, Jodie gave a muffled scream.

Gently, Cathy kissed her daughter's tears away. 'I love you, honey,' she whispered. 'But I need Bobby's big cock in me more.'

Cathy thought there was the merest nod from the teenage girl, that she understood. Cathy hoped so. She arranged the second piece of wood, just like Jodie's, next to her daughter and then strapped her own rubber ball gag in between her teeth. She fumbled behind her, clicking a pair of handcuffs on herself, to keep her arms were out of the way and carefully lowered her weight on to the upturned edge of the wood.

She screamed into her own gag of course, and tears rolled down her face. Just like Jodie.

Cathy prayed Bobby wouldn't be late from soccer practice today. She didn't know how long she could bear the pain.

But boys will be boys, and when Bobby was dating Jodie he often kept her waiting, too.

At least when he arrived the fifteen year old boy would take the mother off the sharp edge, push her upstairs and fuck her. And if Jodie was tied up well Cathy wouldn't be thrashed too hard.