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From: Alocer Loki <alocer_loki@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Kimmy (f/g, pedo, no-sex, mild-tort)
Date: Fri, 25 Jul 2003 00:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "kimmy.txt" begin>
Kimmy
Alocer Loki 2003
Story Codes: f/g, pedo, no-sex, mild tort
DISCLAIMER:
This story is not for everyone and may (and almost certainly will)
contain some quite graphical scenes depicting preteen girls, and
teenage girls in extreme sexual situations
These may include, but are not limited to, sexual torture. If
any of these subjects offends you, or if reading such material is
illegal for your location and/or age then don't go any further!
All actions depicted herein are purely fiction and I, the author,
do not condone any such actions.
If you got past that I am going to assume that you, like myself,
are a 'sick fuck' who gets off on the rape and torture of children.
If not, then what the fuck are you doing reading THIS?
If you wish to contact me, the author, I can be reached directly
at:
alocer_loki@yahoo.com
Thank you, and enjoy the story
Alocer Loki
Kimmy
The oblong trail of light cast its thin beam across Kimmy's leg, the
little girl's eyes fixed on that luminescent sliver. It was the only
thing that she could see in the blackness. The room felt so tiny and
confined, but Kimmy had been locked in there for so long - or at least
it seemed - that it ceased to bother her. The child was exhausted, too
tired to move, to tired even to cry. She just wanted to go home, to
sleep on her own bed and not on the prickly straw that lay beneath her.
The seven-year-old girl didn't have the slightest comprehension of how
much time she had spent locked up. She couldn't remember how she had got
there, she just remembered a big fat man pulling the black bag from her
head and then leaving her chained and cowering in the dark room.
The best guess that Kimmy could make in her state was 'forever'. It had
crossed her mind, more than once, that perhaps she was dead. Not that it
was a concept that she understood very well, but the child couldn't
bring herself to believe that. She was a good girl and if she had died
God would never have let her come to hell. For, if she were dead, then
this had to be hell. Kimmy swallowed or tried to. Her mouth was dry, and
the only moisture came from a thin layer of slime that had formed on her
lips and tongue. Dust and grit from the old crumbling brick wall,
against which she was lent, kept mixing with it and every time Kimmy
closed her mouth it crunched between her teeth. The child would have
moved herself from the wall if she could. The porous surface pressed
against her cheek, it was rough and unforgiving, much like the iron
chains that kept her in place. It had crossed her child's mind, during
her endless hours locked away, that she was like a princess locked in
some evil wizards, or evil dragons dungeon.
The place felt like the dungeons she had seen in story books. Only much
hotter. In books the dungeons always looked cold but it was so hot. It
was hard to breathe: with each breath the child took the dusty air
filled her lungs. Her throat was sore and she could no longer swallow.
However, those thoughts had been hours ago; when the child had first
stopped crying. All that she wanted now was to be home. She wanted her
Mummy and Daddy. She knew that they had to come for her soon. She just
wished that they'd hurry up. Daddy would slay the evil dragon and Kimmy
would be able to go home.
Kimmy knew her dress had worked itself up to expose her bottom some
time ago but the little girl didn't care enough to try and wriggle it
back down again. Besides, she had thick white tights on, which offered
her some sense of security, although they didn't offer any protection
against the sharp straw (or at least she assumed it was straw) bed that
she lay on.
At this time, however, she didn't care about any of that. Her biggest
worry was the pressure building up in her bladder. It was already
painful and the poor little girl didn't know how much longer she could
hold it. She didn't know how long she had to hold it for. Daddy would
come soon and then she would be allowed to take a wee.
The sound from the door was so unexpected that it made the seven year
old jump. Her head turned form the bricks and she gazed into the tiny
stream of light. It sounded like someone was trying to put the key in
the lock. Finally it clicked home and the lock turned. Kimmy held her
breath. Butterflies filled her belly and threatened to force the urine
out. It was so much that the exhausted little girl was forced to move
and press her legs together to prevent herself. This had to be Daddy!
The thin line of light that sat on her leg arched wider until it
engulfed the little girl in a blinding flash. Kimmy screwed her eyes
shut. They hurt so much, even through her eyelids the light was too
strong. The little girl turned her head in towards the wall.
Into the room he came, his shadow cast itself over the little girl and
his shoes clicked on the hard floor. "Wakey wakey babe," the woman
slurred.
Kimmy could have cried, if she had any tears left. She moaned. Or tried
to, her dry throat wouldn't even let that sound escape. The woman took
several quick and irregular steps towards the girl. The only scent that
the little girl had known since forever had been dust and her own sweat,
the smell of whisky and beer came across so strong that the little girl
felt sick with it. "Hey babe," the woman said. "I know you are awake."
Kimmy felt the pointed toe of the woman's shoe jab her in the side.
Kimmy opened her mouth, she wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything but
no sound would escape. The little girl summoned all of her strength and
one word fell from her mouth. "Help."
It was such a tiny croak that it didn't seem that it had been worth the
effort. The woman snickered. The silly laugh that grown-ups made when
they were drunk. "Look at me babe," she said.
Kimmy turned her head back around into the light, she tried to make her
head fall into the woman's shadow but, no matter how hard the seven year
old tried, she couldn't seem to find it. She opened her eyes just a tiny
crack and shut them right up again. "It hurts," she wheezed.
The woman made a tutting sound with her tongue. "You aren't going to be
a bad girl now are you?" she said. "Bad girls get their bottoms smacked,
do you want your bottom smacked?"
Kimmy shook her head. "No," she croaked. The word came out a little
easier than the previous ones.
The child tried to opened her eyes again. They did open but they just
wouldn't obey her and stay open. The moment the light hit her dilated
pupils her eyes forced themselves shut again.
Kimmy heard the woman come close, the overpowering smell of the booze
was almost overwhelming now, it made the little girl gag. The woman
pressed her cold hands to Kimmy's face. The little girl sighed, they
felt so good. "Your very pretty," the woman slurred right into Kimmy's
face. The stench on the woman's breath made Kimmy feel physically sick.
"I want you to look at me."
Before Kimmy had a chance to react the woman placed her fingers on the
child's eyelids and forced them open herself. Kimmy gasped. Even with
the woman so close to her the light blasted around her and stung the
seven-year-old's eyes. Kimmy tried to squeeze them shut. It was, again
more of an automatic reaction than any action of her own. When she
realised that wouldn't happen -- only a fraction of a second -- her eyes
rolled upward and attempted to push themselves into the back of her
head.
The pain was short lived and soon the light reseeded back behind the
woman, although it left big purple and green splotches in Kimmy's
vision. As this happened the black object that was the woman, began to
grow brighter and gain colour. Kimmy found herself staring at a very
beautiful girl. She was almost much younger than what Kimmy had thought.
She looked like one of the girls that went to the University that sat on
the end of her road. Her light hair hung loose around her small face.
Kimmy stared at the girl, she looked so nice, so beautiful and kind.
Kimmy felt the hope rise in her belly again, and, again, it threatened
to cause her to wet herself. The little girl pressed her thighs tight
together. "You are pretty," Kimmy squeaked.
"Now that is so cool," the woman chirped. "We managed to get a dyke
child." She laughed and Kimmy forced herself to breath through her mouth
to avoid the booze on the woman's breath.
The two of them stared at each other for several moments. Kimmy felt
her eyes water and she wanted to blink but the woman held them open. The
child didn't dare complain, just in case that if she did the woman might
change her mind about letting her go. "You've got such loverly green
eyes," the woman said.
The woman lent forward suddenly and Kimmy tried to force herself back
against the wall. The woman poked out her tongue and it went so close to
Kimmy that she could no longer focus on it. It extended closer and
closer, the grip the woman had on Kimmy's head prevented the child from
turning away, and even from closing her eyes. The tongue ran over the
centre of Kimmy's eye and the child barked with pain and shock. When the
tongue left her eye Kimmy found her vision blurred. Her eye really stung
and itched. Kimmy pulled on her arms and the chains rattled above her.
The moment she did it the child regretted it. The dust flooded down and
hit her straight in her wide open eyes.
The woman released Kimmy's head, but the child was too distracted by
the grit in her eyes to care. "You dirtied your other eye," the woman
spat.
Kimmy felt something strike her cheek and her head was thrown to the
side. The child didn't even have time to scream before the woman grabbed
her head again. Her left eye - the one which hadn't been licked - was
forced open. Kimmy expected the other one to be opened for her too but,
instead, she felt the woman's finger jab into her open eye. Kimmy
squealed. "Ow! ow!" the little girl cried.
It didn't quite occur to Kimmy that the woman was, rather
unceremoniously and rather callously cleaning out her eye until she saw
the blurred tongue extend towards it. Kimmy screamed. The tears that had
stopped so many hours ago flooded to the surface. If just because of the
intrusion to her eyes or due to all hope being dashed once again the
child didn't comprehend. The woman didn't just lick across her eye this
time; instead, she swirled her tongue around and around. Kimmy cried.
"Please stop. Please stop," she sobbed.
The woman laughed and pulled back. "Dirty cunt," she sneered.
Kimmy hardly noticed the woman reach down to pick up a handful of the
filthy straw around her knees. The woman's cute smile turned into wide
grin and then she threw the dirt forward. Kimmy still had her left eye
held open. She screamed and the woman finally let go of her head.
Kimmy threw her head down and blinked her eyes and finally settled on
just squeezing them shut. She could feel the dust and dirt scraping
against them. "I hate you," Kimmy squealed.
The woman laughed. "Oh babe," she sighed. "If you were a good girl you
would never have gotten the dirt into your eye."
"Let me go," cried the girl. "I want to go home. I want my Mummy."
"Now now," said the woman. "I'll have none of that. Do you want to wash
out your eyes, should I take you to the bathroom?"
The child tipped her head up, although she kept her eyes firmly shut.
"I need a wee," the child squeaked.
The woman gasped. "Perfect," she breathed. "Yes we need to go to the
bathroom." The woman shuffled forward a bit. "Put your head up so that I
can put this on you."
Curiosity overtook any discomfort that Kimmy was feeling and she turned
her head and opened her eyes to see what she meant. The child wrinkled
her brow. The woman held a large dog collar in both of her hands. "Why?"
asked Kimmy.
"Because you are a silly, dirty bitch," said the woman with a smile.
"That wasn't very nice," whined Kimmy.
"It wasn't meant to be," the drunken woman chirped. "It was just meant
to be the truth. I need to put a collar on you so that I can use the
lead to pull you around because you are a little fuck dog."
"No I'm not," protested Kimmy.
The woman lashed her hand out and stuck the frightened little girl
across the cheek. Kimmy felt her head buffeted to the side again. "Don't
contradict me," the woman said. "If I tell you that you are a dirty
little fuck dog then you are a dirty little fuck dog. Now sit up
straight."
Kimmy sniffed and lifted her head up. There was really nothing else
that she could do and she didn't want the woman to hit her again. The
woman lent forward and wrapped the collar around the child's neck. The
leather enclosed Kimmy's throat tighter and tighter. The child pulled
her head to the side but it was too late and the woman lent back. Kimmy
strained to breath in. "Too tight," the child gasped.
"No it isn't," said the woman. "If it was too tight you would have
passed out by now." The woman laughed. "Now what are you?"
The child hesitated. The woman slapped her again and Kimmy screamed.
"What are you?" insisted the woman.
"I-I can't," Kimmy screamed back. She hated this woman so much she just
wished that she'd go away.
The drunk woman slapped the child across the face again. Kimmy's cheek
burned, it was just so sore. "Why not?" asked the woman.
"That word," sobbed Kimmy. "I don't want to he hit anymore."
"What, you mean 'fuck'?" asked the woman.
Kimmy sniffed and nodded.
"Aww babe, I'm sorry," said the woman. She stroked Kimmy's sore cheek.
"I thought you were being disobedient. It's okay, you can say it. I want
to hear you say it."
"But..."
The woman kissed Kimmy on the cheek, "If you don't say it I will hit
you," she informed the little girl.
Kimmy felt so betrayed. This was just so wrong. She didn't know what to
do so she opened her mouth. "I-I'm a dirty little f-f...," she licked
her lips. "Fuck dog."
The woman's gentle lips brushed against Kimmy's sore cheek again. "That
is a good girl," she said. "You are such a good little bitch."
Kimmy sniffed again, she almost felt proud. The little girl closed her
watery eyes again. The grit still tormented her: it felt like her eyes
were full of it.
The woman pressed forward and her lips contacted with Kimmy's small
ear. The child felt the wet tongue run around it; she gasped. The woman
kissed Kimmy's ear and moved her head down to press her lips against the
child's shoulder. Kimmy wasn't entirely sure how to react; so she kept
still and quiet and concentrated more on keeping her eyes still beneath
her eyelids -- in order to prevent the grit rubbing against the
sensitive surface -- than on the kisses the drunken woman was trailing
up her arm.
The kisses were light and extremely gentle; placed almost every inch up
the child's thin little arm. As the woman moved up her breasts presses
against Kimmy's face. The child felt an odd comfort from the warm
cushions and pushed her face into them. The fast beating of the woman's
heart could be heard clearly and had an odd hypnotic affect on the
little girl. The smell of the woman's perfume, in this close, now
overpowered the stench of the alcohol and, coupled with her own
exhaustion, Kimmy felt suddenly sleepy she moaned a little and sighed.
She could have very easily fallen asleep. "Ah-hah!" the woman cried.
Kimmy jumped and pulled her head back smacking it into the brick wall.
Disorientated and in pain, the seven-year-old hadn't even realised what
what the woman had done before the was pulled to her feet. Once she was
upright, the woman let go of Kimmy's hands and they fell to her sides.
The child reached up to rub her head. Her arms were stiff and didn't
seem to want to do what they were told. It was a few moments before it
occurred to her that her hands were now free from their restraints.
Kimmy left the lump on her head alone and pulled her hands back around
in front of her.
The child opened her sore eyes and blinked several times to try and get
some focus on her small hands. They were both very filthy. It almost
looked like she had been playing in dirt all day long. A narrow and very
sore red-mark encircled both of her wrists. Kimmy sniffed. She didn't
notice as the woman lent into her but the child heard the quiet click
and looked down to see the chain fastened to the tight collar. Kimmy
looked back up at the woman. "I can't let a dirty bitch off the lead
until she's had lots of obedience training," the woman explained.
Kimmy closed her eyes. They hurt too much, and she was too tired to
really care about the mean things the woman was saying. Kimmy wiped her
nose on her arm and sniffed again. Her eyes were really itchy and sore.
The poor little seven year old ground the palms of her hands into her
sockets. "Oi," the woman snapped. "Don't rub."
Kimmy just couldn't stop. Her lips curled down and the child cried
hard. Her whole body shook. Her eyes hurt and they itched and she rubbed
on them even more. "Hold out your hand," the woman commanded.
Kimmy's reaction was almost automatic. Her left hand left her eye and
she stretched it out in front of her. She didn't know why the woman
wanted it but she didn't want to make her angry either. She felt the
woman's soft hands brush over her knuckles. "The other way up babe," she
said.
Kimmy turned her hand around so that the palm faced upward. She was
finding it hard to keep it still, and, quite frankly, was more intent on
rubbing her eyes with her other hand to try too hard to do so.
Pain laced through Kimmy's arm. It was unlike anything the little girl
had ever felt. The child's eyes snapped open and she squealed. She
pulled both hands into herself and clutched them to her chest. The
little girl looked up at the woman: she was holding Kimmy's lead nearly
half a foot from the end. Like that the close-linked chain looked like a
very menacing whip. Kimmy opened her mouth but the only sound she was
able to make was a choked sob. The child trembled and cried. "If I tell
you not to rub I fucking well mean not to rub," the woman shouted.
"I'm sorry," cried Kimmy. "You didn't have to hit me."
"Yes I did," the woman replied. "If you don't do what you are told
first time I will hit you, and I will make it hurt. Is that clear,
cunt."
The woman spat the last word at the terrified little girl. Kimmy,
petrified to the point of being dumb, simply nodded. The woman reached
behind herself and pulled something from the back pocket of her tight
blue jeans. As she pulled whatever it was into view she threw it at
Kimmy. Instinctively the child caught it and looked down with her blurry
eyes at the black velvet bag. The child could still remember wearing one
just like it while she was brought to this bad place.
"Put that over your head," the woman said.
"But!" she squealed shaking her pretty young head.
"Hold out your hand," the woman said.
The little girl snatched her hand into her chest and covered it with
her arm. "No!" she squealed. "Please no, I'll do it I'm sorry I'll do
it!"
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Hold out your hand now," the emphasis
placed on the last word was more than intimidating to the little girl.
But her hand still hurt so much and she didn't want it hurt any more.
"Please I'm sorry, I'll put the bag on I'm sorry," she wept.
"Now!" barked the lady.
Kimmy pulled her hand from under her arm. It was trembling and it was
all she could to to hold it out flat. The little watched as the woman
lifted the metal lead. Kimmy's hand jerked downward, but she lifted it
back into place. Tears streamed down the little girl's face. Her itchy,
grit-filled eyes locked onto the lead. The child could hardly breath.
The woman's hand came down so fast that Kimmy didn't even see the lead
swing. But she felt it. The chain landed right across Kimmy's palm. The
little girl screamed and pulled her hand back into her chest. "You are
going to hold it out again," said the woman.
The crying girl gasped and glared at the woman. "Why?" she sobbed.
"You are going to hold it out until you get it right," she said. "I
don't like back-talk and I don't like sluts not doing what they are told
the first time. Now hold out your fucking hand."
Kimmy pulled her shuddering hand back out in front of her. The little
girl had been punished before and, while this was much worse than
anything Daddy had ever done to her, she knew how to it was done. The
lead lashed down almost the moment that Kimmy had her hand up. The pain
came as a shock to the poor child and she screamed again. She pulled her
hand back into herself. As she looked at her palm the seven year old
girl let out a choked gasp. The blood quickly drooled down her hand and
dripped off onto her dress. "I'm bleeding!" the little girl cried. "I'm
bleeding! Help!"
"Let's see if you can get it right this time," said the woman in a cold
tone. "Hold out your hand."
Kimmy's left hand was covered in blood, the skin had split and the huge
gash ran right across the palm. The little girl drew in a shuddering
breath and pulled up her right hand and held it out. The woman whipped
her, Kimmy could have sworn that it was the hardest yet. But at least it
hadn't made her right hand bleed too. The poor child held both of her
tiny mitts into her chest and cried loudly. The woman giggled. "Bad
girl," she said with a grin. "I didn't tell you to hold out your other
hand, you are going to have to do it again. Hold out your left hand --
the bleeding one. Now."
Kimmy squeezed her eyes shut and cried. She pulled out her bloody hand
and tried to hold it out in front of her, but she just couldn't keep it
still. That, however, didn't seem to matter to the woman. Kimmy felt the
metal lead strike across her poor hand again. It hurt so much. Kimmy
could have sworn that the lady had broken it. Kimmy clutched her hand to
her chest; ignoring that the blood was being smeared across her dress.
She cried and cried. She could feel the warmth and smell the perfume and
booze when the woman leaned in close to the crouched child. She felt a
kiss brush over her forehead. "You are a good girl," she said.
Kimmy almost jumped forward, wrapping her arms around the woman's neck
she squeezed herself tight against her. The woman laughed and Kimmy felt
her arms move around her tiny body until they rested on either one of
Kimmy's buttocks. The woman squeezed but Kimmy didn't care, she just
wanted a hug. Kimmy held on tight, it felt a little good the way that
the woman rubbed and squeezed on her bum. Kimmy liked it and she liked
the warm smell of the woman's perfume. This close it masked almost all
traces of the alcohol.
Kimmy felt herself dozing, she moaned softly into the woman's ear. She
wanted to sleep now. But the woman let her go and Kimmy slipped to the
floor. The exhausted girl opened her sore eyes and focused -- although
it was still a little blurry -- on the woman. The woman nudged the black
material bag with her foot. "Put that on now," she said.
Kimmy looked down at the bag and took in a deep breath. She had been
wearing that bag when she got here. It had been so horrible. Everything
had been dark and muffled, she'd been pulled and thrown about and she
couldn't even see where too. On the other hand, the child didn't want to
be hit again. She still couldn't keep her hands still as she reached
down for the bag. She wanted to get it all over with, so she hurried.
Kimmy snatched the bag from the floor and pulled it over her head and
the seven-year-old girl was, once again, plunged into blackness.
Kimmy sat shivering on the floor while the woman fastened the
draw-strings on the bag. It was hot and stuffy in the bag, and that made
it difficult to breathe. Kimmy closed her eyes again, they hurt less
when they were closed, she didn't need them now. The woman pulled on the
lead. "I want you to follow," she told the girl.
Kimmy tipped herself forward and let out a scream when her bad hand hit
the floor. The woman pulled on the lead, hard, and Kimmy had no choice
but to follow behind like a limping dog. Kimmy didn't know where they
were going, in fact the only real thoughts that passed through her head
was the effort to keep up with the woman and the wishing that they would
just get there. They seemed to go on forever. Every time they went
around a corner Kimmy's lead would be pulled so hard that it would choke
her, but what she hated the most were doors, every single door they came
upon Kimmy crawled right into. Twice she hit her head very hard, and
once she banged her nose into the frame. It now hurt so much and it felt
like it was running down over her mouth. She tried to sniff back up but
it was blocked. Kimmy started to panic, still crawling forward, she
cried out to the woman, she begged with her.
Then they came to a stop and the woman pulled the bag from Kimmy's
head. As the the light returned, the very first thing that Kimmy saw was
herself in a mirror. She almost didn't recognise the filthy little girl
that stared back. Her striking red hair was almost brown with dirt and
her freckled hidden beneath a layer of grime. Blood covered all of the
child's face below her nose.
Kimmy screamed.
The woman struck the poor hysterical child across her bloodied face.
"Stop that," the woman snapped.
"I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding," the little girl squealed.
The woman hit Kimmy again, her open hand made a rather loud slapping
sound against the seven-year-old's plump cheek. "I said shut it,"
growled the woman. "It's only a little fucking nose bleed."
Kimmy stopped screaming and settled into short and rather noisy
breaths. The woman sighed. "Oh babe," she said. "It where you crawled
into so many things on the way here. It's your own fault. Come on lets
get you cleaned up."
Kimmy took a deep breath and glanced around the 'bathroom'. It really
wasn't what she had been expecting, but rather a large public lavatory.
Kimmy looked back up into the mirror. She could see her blood-red eyes
staring back. Now she knew why they hurt so much. The little girl
shuffled forward. The woman put her hands under Kimmy's armpits and
lifted the child up onto the counter, between two wash basins. The woman
turned on the faucet and reached up to squeeze some soap from the
dispenser.
The woman lathered it in her hands and, very gently, soaped Kimmy's
face. Kimmy watched herself in the mirror, fascinated as the blue soap
bubbles turned pink. The woman glanced around for a moment and then
sighed. Straightening herself, the woman quickly pulled her blouse over
her head. Her boobs giggled a little inside the white bra. "You got
enough blood on this anyway," the woman said.
She scrunched her shirt up into a ball and held it under the running
tap. As soon as it was wet enough she used it to wipe the blood and soap
from Kimmy's face. Kimmy felt relieved as the blood was all wiped away.
Although her nose looked big and red, it was better than having blood
all over her face.
"Now babe," said the woman, as she discarded her shirt. "We need to
wash your eyes out. I need you to lean down with your head in the sink;
okay?"
Kimmy shuffled to her right, until her bottom slipped into a
neighbouring basin and lent down until her head hung over the side of
the other sink. She gazed dreamily up at the blurred image of the woman.
The woman was so mean, but so sweet. Kimmy felt like she was going to
cry again.
The woman pressed her fingers into Kimmy's chin and pushed her head
back a little. "You need to be brave and keep your eyes open okay?"
"Ah-huh," agreed Kimmy.
The little girl was already having trouble with keeping them open. She
knew that water was going to go into them and everything in her told her
to shut them, but they hurt too much for her not to do as she was told.
The water spilled on and flowed over her eyes. As it first contacted
Kimmy squeezed them shut. She heard the woman urging her to open them,
and so the little girl did.
It was okay after she had them open. The cold water swept over them,
she couldn't see anything but it didn't hurt any more. It wasn't long
before the woman turned off the tap. Kimmy sat up and rubbed her eyes
and then froze.
The woman laughed. "It's okay now babe, you can rub them now, I just
didn't want you doing it while there was grit in them."
Kimmy sighed and the drunken woman yawned. "Come on now babe, let's
lock you back up we've got a busy day tomorrow," said the woman.
"But," said Kimmy. "I need a wee."
Completed: 24/07/2003
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