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Subject: {ASSM} "But Why Me Mommy?" (MFg pedo incest torture snuff)
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Date: Sat,  1 May 2004 04:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "But Why Me Mommy (MFg pedo incest torture snuff).txt" begin>

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________________________________________________________


"Buy Why Me Mommy?" (MFg pedo incest torture snuff caution)

Morning

     "But why me, Mommy?" Monica continued to lead our
daughter Clara by the hand into the bedroom -- our bedroom.
     Inside, she effortlessly lifted the young girl up and
sat her down on the bed. True, Clara weighs very little, but
Monica is an accomplished athlete and quite strong. The
sight of my bride's naked body, firm well-defined muscles
filling out her arms and legs, always sent a shiver of
excitement through me.
     "Don't you know where you came from?" Monica said, by
way of answer.
     "From inside you, Mommy."
     "Yes. But how did you get there?
     "Daddy put me there."
     "And how did Daddy put you there?"
     The girl hesitated. Her mother sat next to her on the
bed, her tall womanly powerful form seeming to dwarf her
daughter. Clara was eleven, but small for her age: just 4
and a half feet tall and barely 75 pounds. Monica on the
other hand was 5 foot 10 and a muscular, completely fat-
free, 140. Mom wrapped an arm tightly around the girl's thin
shoulders.
     "With his thing," Clara finally answered.
     "Daddy's cock, isn't that what you mean?"
     The girl nodded.
     "We've talked about this many times. I know you
remember."
     The girl reviewed the lessons she'd been taught.
     "Daddy put his cock into you mouth and you sucked on it
until it got really big and hard, then Daddy made you go on
your tummy and he put it into your bottom hole and then
after he made it go in really deep he took it out and put it
inside your tummy."
     "Very good. Now tell me how Daddy can put his cock
inside Mommy's belly."
     "Because Mommy has a front hole too." Although I was
standing off to the side, staying out of the way, my cock
was fully involved -- throbbing and aching hard enough to
make me groan.
     "What's it called?" my wife asked our daughter.
     "My teacher said it's a bad word."
     "Yes, your teacher is right it's a very bad word. What
is it?
     "She told me not to say it."
     "Well, your Mommy is telling you to say it." Monica
gave the girl a warning squeeze.
     "Your front hole is called a cunt."
     "Yes. You have holes too don't you? Tell Mommy and
Daddy about them."
     Another lesson to recite. Monica loved playing the
strict teacher. Though "playing" wasn't the right word. She
lived the role completely.
     "I have three holes. My mouth. My cunt. And my bottom
hole." Monica glared at the girl.
     "My asshole," she said in her quiet little girl voice.
     "Good. So, Daddy put his cock into Mommy's three holes.
My cunt was last. And then what did he do?"
     "Then he squirted his juice into you."
     "His cum, darling."
     "Daddy's cum. And the cum grew and it was me."
     "That is very good, sweetheart. You deserve a kiss."
Monica pulled the girl's face up towards her and gave her a
long deep kiss, not neglecting to probe the girl's mouth
with her tongue. Clara tried to struggle out of her mother's
embrace, but Monica held her tight.
     Finally, their mouths separated.
     "And so," Monica continued, "that's why this is
happening to you. Because you grew from the cum Daddy's cock
squirted into Mommy's cunt after she'd sucked it and taken
it up her asshole. Anymore questions?"
     "No."
     "OK then. Let's get started." It was a bright sunny
Sunday morning. The morning light flooded in through the
bedroom's second story windows. The neighborhood outside was
quiet and still -- not that our neighbors ever made much
noise, but everyone other family was a church this morning.
We had no worries about being overheard or interrupted.
     I brought over a chair and Monica picked Clara up and
placed her standing on the chair.
     "Darling, you go first," she said to me. Even though my
cock was bursting I unhurriedly stripped, folding my clothes
and laying them aside one by one until I was completely
naked. I'd always been very proud of my cock -- in fact I'm
convinced it was at least 50% of the reason why Monica
married me. That and the fact that we quickly discovered
that our tastes ran in very much the same perverted
directions.
     Back to my cock. It is a full eight inches when erect -
- not a horsecock by any stretch. We'd both seen (and taken)
cocks much longer than that. But my claim to cock fame was
its girth: a full 3 1/8 inches in diameter, 9.8 inches
around. And at the moment it was fully erect.
     As always Clara's eyes grew wide whenever she saw it.
And for the first time her knees were shaking. She was fully
aware that today was going to be the day. Of course I'd had
young girls before, some considerably younger than Clara
(but that's another story), but Clara was my one and only
daughter -- so far anyway. A deliciously evil grin came to
Monica's face.
     My wife stripped, until both of Clara's parents stood
completely naked in front of their little daughter. Of
course, she had seen us fucking many, many times (that had
started right after she was born, when Monica would nurse as
I cunt or face or ass fucked her), and Clara quite well
understand what fucking was all about -- in fact she
understand about lots more than just fucking. But mostly
she'd been in the observer role. That was about to change.
     Monica reached out, slipped a hand inside Clara's top,
and ripped it open. She tore all of her clothes off her,
ripping them apart and pulling the tattered remnants off the
trembling girl. (Monica never believed in doing anything the
easy way, if she could take the opportunity to display her
strength and dominance.) The girl quickly stood naked and
shivering in the warm room, the chair wobbling a bit from
her shaking.
     The two of us took our time. She was, despite her
smallness and thinness, a pretty girl. Her chest had started
to bud, and two sweet pillows of firm flesh, topped by small
erect nipples, graced her young girl body. A very slight
widening of her hips was also evident. Of course, her sweet
little cunt was still completely smooth and bare, split into
two symmetrical swellings by the narrowest, most inviting
pink slit.
     Monica put her hands on the girl. Tenderly, lovingly
caressing her. Sliding her fingers under the girl's arms,
around her neck, between her legs.
     "You are really a lovely girl, sweetheart. And today
you're going to become a woman, just like your mom."
Monica's fingers slid into the girl's slit. She turned her
around, kneading her ass, pulling it apart, fingering her
pink puckered bung hole.
     "Bend over darling." Monica forcefully bent the girl
forward, folding her over the back of the chair. This showed
her ass to best advantage, emphasizing what volume it did
have, and at the same time accentuating how girlish her
figure in fact still was. I knew that even the slightest
touch on my cock would send the sperm flying across the
room, so I kept my hands off myself.
     Monica started with some butt slaps. Hard slaps. The
crack of her hand on the girl's bony ass rang out in the
bedroom. Flesh to flesh contact held many attractions to
Monica. Striking a young girl's ass, or baby pussy, or face
with her bare hand. She would never give up her whips and
switches and floggers, but neither would she give up simply
striking her prey.
     Bright red marks blossomed on Clara's backside. Now the
verbal abuse.
     "Here's another one for you, you dirty little whore."
Whack!
     "Filthy fuck hole." Whack!
     "Little shit-eating pig." Whack! And finally a cry of
pain from the girl. My cock almost jumped out of its socket.
     "What are you?" she demanded of the little girl.
     "A whore mommy."
     "What is a whore. Tell me." Whack!
     "A girl who lets anyone put his cock in her. In every
hole."
     "And what else?" Whack!
     "And they cum inside her and all over her."
     "You mean to get fucked. Say 'fucked." Whack!
     "Fucked, Mommy." Clara's butt was bright red. The scars
and welts from other sessions gleamed white against the
blood-flushed skin. Tears streamed down her face. She could
barely speak through the sobs. Monica's own face was flushed
and damp. I could she her pussy lips gaping open, her cunt
juices already dripping down her legs.
     "And what do you want, whore?" Whack!
     "To be fucked." Whack!
     "Fucked by who?"
     Clara was balling so hard she could hardly answer.
Monica gave her a chance to collect herself. As the girl
cried it off, Monica sorted through our toy trunk. She
pulled out the "Baby Buster," a 32" flogger comprised of two
dozen heavy black leather lashes bound together in a tightly
wrapped leather handle. Monica flicked the whip, getting
back the feel of its weight and motion. She slide the lashes
through her hand, luxuriating in the biting leather edges
pulling over her flesh. Clara's sobs had stopped, and only a
quiet whimpering could be heard in the room -- and the sound
of Monica's quick, deep breathing.
     Monica slowly circled the girl, slapping the flogger
against her palm. Clara was draped over the back of the
chair, her feet continually slipping off the chair seat as
she tried to steady herself, her ass up and exposed, hands
clinging to the chair back to keep her self from tumbling
onto the floor. Her position was made even more precarious
by the fact that the chair threatened was threatening to tip
over at any moment.
     Monica inserted the flogger between the girl's thighs,
rubbing the lashes up hard onto her belly and cunt. She drew
the flogger back, pulling up into the crack between her ass
cheeks. causing the girl to flinch with the implied threat.
Teasing, Monica lightly slapped her bottom, causing her to
jump. Monica chuckled. She proceeded to circle the girl,
dragging the lashes over her flesh all the way to her face
and head, hanging down off the back of the chair. She rubbed
the business end into Clara's face, forcing the smells
picked up by the leather from her cunt and ass and sweaty
body into her mouth and nose.
     Taking a handful of her straight reddish-blonde hair,
Monica pulled her daughter's face up to look her in the
eyes.
     "Fucked by who?" Monica.
     "Daddy."
     Monica rubbed the end of the whip's handle against the
girl's mouth. The blunt end, wrapped tight in worn, sweat-
stained black leather deformed the girl's lips. Monica
twisted it, forcing the girl's teeth apart. An inch slipped
into the girl's mouth.
     "Yes," Monica hissed, "fucked by Daddy."
     Abruptly, she withdrew the whip from Clara's mouth and
returned to her position at the girl's ass. She motioned me
over to stand in front of our daughter. We'd indulged our
perversions for so long, I instinctively knew what Monica
wanted. I stepped in close to Clara, and taking her head
between my hands I pressed her face against my upright cock.
I held her tightly, keeping her in position and preventing
the chair from tipping over under Monica's blows.
     First a few practice strokes in the air, gauging her
weapon's heft. Then Monica drew her arm back and with a
whoosh and a magnificent THWACK! brought the whip to bear on
Clara's already abused bottom. The girl's face was driven
hard against her daddy's cock. He gripped her even more
tightly. Whoosh TWACK!  and then again and again, the
stinging leather straps landed on Clara's bony girl ass,
each time forcibly rubbing her face into my cock. Monica,
her face a mixture of grime determination and absolute joy,
laid into the girl harder and harder. She sobbed into my
belly, the hot salty tears drenching my cock and balls. It
was all I could do to restrain myself from cumming. Monica
ceased. Clara's sobs filled our ears. Sliding a hand under
the girl's chin, I raised her face up a bit higher. With the
other hand I bent my cock down until it's thick dripping
head was on her mouth. I pulled her to me, forcing my
pulsing 3 1/8" wide cock into her crying, balling mouth,
muffling her sobs. My hands were slick from her tears.
     The girl's oral cavity, even at its most relaxed, was
hardly big enough to take the first few inches of my member.
Now, with tissues swollen from crying and sobbing, the mouth
might claim to be the tightest of her three orifices. I
gripped her head more tightly and yanked hard, gaining a bit
more ground. I could feel the blunt end of my cock hitting
the back of her mouth, stymied by an impossibly narrow
throat. Three whole inches had now disappeared inside into
her face. Clara gasped for breath, struggled as feelings of
suffocation overtook her.
     Monica redoubled her efforts on Clara's backside, the
strokes coming harder and faster than ever. Welts split
open, blood oozed from the cuts, to be immediately smeared
and splattered over her thighs and back from the next blow.
The sharp-edged leather straps, falling on open wounds or in
the depths of her ass and cunt cracks, ripped screams from
our baby, screams largely muffled by the engorged manhood of
her father stopping her throat. Wild with incestuous blood
lust, Monica seemed bent on tearing her baby's flesh from
her body.
     And I was powerless. The blood pounded in my temples.
That all too familiar hungry black haunted thing awoke again
in my belly, spread out into my limbs, and slithered up my
spine to my brain. The door swung open, the abyss yawned. I
shivered with unfathomable pleasure, swept up by a
magnificent ecstasy. This is what Monica had introduced me
to, what I owed her, what kept me -- and her -- enslaved.
     My hands and fingers knitted tightly together behind
her head, I simultaneously pulled her closer and thrust my
belly forward against the resistance to meet her. At least
two more inches disappeared into her face, and hence at
least two inches of my cock were now lodged down in her
throat.
     This was nearly the tightest hole I'd ever speared (at
least the tightest for a child over the age of six or
seven). It was going to be impossible for me to restrain
myself much longer -- just as well, because Clara was now
completely unable to breath. At most I had two, maybe three
minutes before I'd have to withdraw or lose our daughter (of
course this was a thought that had its own attractions and,
albeit it temporary, rewards -- one day, we had promised
ourselves, but not just yet).
     Monica, relentless in her perverted lust, rammed the
whip handle up her own asshole and proceeding to violently
bugger herself with it, suspending for the moment her attack
on Clara's backside.
     Clara, forgetting every lesson we'd taught her, now
launched into a violent struggle against her father's
trespass. She kicked and flayed her arms wildly. Her whole
body jerked as she fought to un-impale herself. The chair,
which supported this whole scene, shook violently and
tottered. Even gripping her head with all my strength, and
pressing with equal strength her face into my belly, the
chair was bound to tip over and dislodge me.
     Monica came to the rescue. She grabbed our daughter and
gripped her tightly around the belly and chest, steadying
her, holding her up, adding her insistence to mine in urging
the girl's face and mouth against me, obscenely forcing her
husband's -- her daughter's father's -- thick rigid cock
even further down the young girl's esophagus.
     Again I pulled, Monica pushed. More of my cock
disappeared into her face. The bulge in her neck was clearly
visible, as when a snake swallows its prey whole. As Monica
wrestled with the girl, the whip protruding from her asshole
tossed wildly like a horse's tail at full gallop. The girl's
continuing (but weakening ) struggles did not prevent Monica
from freeing one hand to encircle the distorted neck,
ecstatic at sight and feel of my member inserted so far into
our darling's esophagus.
     A thick slime of saliva and retch hung from Clara's
mouth. It bubbled up out of her nose. I was about to lose
it. One more merciful thrust, and yet another inch forced
down into her throat. A blast of spittle and mucus burst
from the girl's nose and out around my cock. Her dark brown
eyes rolled up in their sockets. I came, ejaculating jet
after jet of thick hot paternal sperm directly into my
baby's belly. Monica and I screamed. We managed to hold
Clara tight against me until the last little spurt, then we
both collapsed onto the floor. A flood of saliva and mucus
and cum poured from the girl's mouth, drenching me even
more. The chair precariously rocked back and forth for
several seconds, but finally found its equilibrium, the
motionless, seemingly lifeless body hanging over the back of
the chair, bent double.
     A violent cough shook her body. She retched, cum and
puke and mucus raining down on us. The chair collapsed,
throwing the girl down on top of us in the pool of her own
vomit. She was still among the living.
     Monica recovered first. She stood, picked up the girl
and carried her to the bed. There she applied her tongue and
mouth to her baby girl's body, licking every inch, cleaning
her like a mother cat, eating up the cum I'd ejected into my
daughter and the filth thrown up by the girl's own body.
With intense rude licks she cleaned the oozing asshole,
wiped the childish secretions from her small cunny, and
applying her lips to he daughter's, sucked from her mouth to
her own the scum that still filled it.
     The girl now being clean and sweet again from her
mother's ministrations, I joined them in bed. Clara tightly
nestled between her mother and father as we napped.
     
     
     Afternoon
     
     I awoke to Clara's quiet crying. She was shaking, still
laying between us on the bed. Monica slept, an arm over the
girl, a hand on her neck. The late afternoon sunlight
slanted in through the windows, casting a warm glow through
the room. The faint sounds of kids playing, lawns being
mowed, and cars motoring past the house filtered in from
outside.
     I gently pulled Clara close to me, not wanting to wake
Monica. Her small frail body pressed against mine. I put my
arms around her. Her trembling sobs quickly had their usual
effect on me. My cock rose up, jerking against my daughter's
cunt, spattering it with pre-cum. It wanted in. 'Soon,' I
said to myself, 'soon.'
     "You hurt me." Her eyes were red, swollen. Probably not
as red and swollen as her throat I imagined. I examined her
neck. Only a couple of small bruises, not from the throat
fucking but almost certainly from Monica's grip on her. I
tried to get her to open her mouth to let me check inside,
but she refused.
     "Yes, but just like before." An obvious lie. She shook
her head. "You hurt me with that," she said, pointing to my
cock. "You and mommy never did that before."
     I forced her hand onto it. "Hold it," I said. Her small
little girl hand tried to, but the fingers weren't even long
enough to half way around my member. I'd just wanted her to
touch it, to feel her hand on it, to make her pay attention
to what made her.
     "You won't hurt me again, will you Daddy?"
     "Yes he will." Monica rose up on one elbow and looked
down on us. She stroked Clara's hair, caressed her arms
     "How was it?" she asked me.
     "Good."
     "Just good?"
     "Well, very good."
     "Worth the wait?"
     I found my own hands wandering over my daughter's body.
Her underarms. Her belly. Between her legs. Slipping into
her still sealed slit. And between her ass cheeks.
     "It was hard."
     "But worth it?"
     "Yes."
     Clara listened to us quietly.
     "And the moment?"
     "The moment?"
     "When you couldn't stop."
     "I guess when I felt her face pushed against my cock.
You wouldn't have let me stop anyway."
     "No. But the moment when you couldn't stop, even if I
hadn't been there?"
     "Hmm. I guess when I felt how tight her throat was."
     "When you put the head in her mouth?"
     "At the back of the mouth. You know how where the
tongue  --"
     "Oh yes. It narrows so quickly. You wonder how can
anything get out of the mouth that way."
     "Constricted."
     "Oh god, yes." She shivered. "'Constricted'. What a
lovely word. My darling's constricted throat."
     "The chair was a great idea."
     "It just came to me."
     "It was hard to keep it steady though. It kept
threatening to topple over."
     "I know. That's what I liked. So precarious." Another
word that gave her shivers.
     "And her bent in half that way . . ."
     "It was painful."
     "Yes, it must have been."
     We fell silent, stroking our baby, replaying the scene
in our minds. Clara, I'm sure, was doing the same thing.
     "Mommy, what's that?" Clara pointed at Monica's belly,
at the bright white, nearly perfectly straight scar that ran
up her belly, from just under where her belly button should
have been until, abruptly swerving, it ran up under her
right tit, continued up and over its swelling fullness,
halting barely an inch from the nipple. The sternum had
thrown the rapidly moving knife off course. The bone could
have deflected the blade in either direction -- if to the
left and into the heart, she would have certainly died. How
it was she survived in any case no one pretended to explain.
She'd lost a kidney and half of her liver. The doctor's had
been able to save her utereus and ovaries. They were
confident she'd still be able to have children. Monica had
been thirteen.
     Her dad was never found. For all she knew, he might
still be alive, twenty-four years later. She still had his
knife.
     "Your legacy," Monica said to her daughter.
     Monica noticed the bruises on Clara's throat. She put
her hand on the girl's neck and curled her fingers around
it. The thumb and fingers covered the bruises exactly. I saw
her fingers tighten slightly, the flesh indenting under
their tips. Monica smiled and the girl's eyes widened in
fear. Monica brought her mouth down on her daughter's,
pressed her lips to her, and kissed her. She pried the
girl's mouth open with her tongue and thrust it into her
mouth. She tightened her grip. With her long slender
fingers, Monica's hand was nearly big enough to completely
encircle that slender neck. Monica's other hand pressed on
the girl's forehead, pushing her head down into the
mattress. Harder and harder she kissed her, tighter and
tighter she squeezed the neck. Clara gasped.
     My cock was like iron again. I seized hold of it and
stroked. Groans, and desperate thrashing as our daughter
struggled to breath. Her fists flayed crazily. Then she went
limp. I gripped Monica's shoulder.
     "No, don't."
     Monica broke off her kiss, her hand still tight around
our baby's neck. Saliva and blood from a broken lip dripped
out of her panting mouth. She glared at me, her face twisted
into a snarl. I took hold of her wrist, the tendons still
taut and unyielding.
     Monica eased up ever so slightly on Clara's throat. The
girl coughed and gagged, coming back to life a second time
that day.
     "Hold her," Monica growled at me, her only response.
     There was no denying her, I could see that. So I made
the best of it. I took her place, holding Clara down on the
bed by her throat.
     Monica stood and quickly changed into her favorite
outfit: blood red knee-high PVC dominator boots with buckles
(with their 4-1/2 inch steel spike heels she topped six feet
in height), a tightly bound gunmetal gray chain-mail corset,
black vinyl gloves, fingers cut off close to the hand, so
that her own long fingers, the sharpened nails painted
emerald green, turned her hands into talons.
     I'd eased up on Clara's throat enough for the girl to
breath again.
     At this point Monica stepped into a studded leather
harness equipped with a thick black dildo. It swayed
menacingly between her legs. It exceeded my own member in
length by three inches, and was equally thick. This dildo
and harness had been custom-made to her specifications: an
exact replica of her own father's cock. Around her hips she
buckled a wide leather belt. On her right hip, cozy in its
sheath, her father's knife, its bone handle jerking with
every step. Finally, she tied a velvet choker around her
neck, matching her long thick black hair.
     Ready, Clara's mother strode forward and took her
position between the girl's thin legs.
     "Don't worry. You won't be deprived after waiting all
these years. I'm leaving one hole for you."
     "Monica." I dared speak. My cock was throbbing
unbelievably, about to burst at the sight of the thick,
swaying black dildo cock bouncing against my girl's virgin
cunt.
     She didn't look up. "What?"
     "You promised I could have her. Have her cunt I mean."
     " I want her. You can have the next one."
     "Nancy?" Nancy was Clara's younger sister, just seven
years old.
     "Yes."
     "How do I know you'll keep your word?" I had no reason
to trust her.
     "You can do her anytime you want."
     "Anytime? Even tonight? I mean after Clara?"
     "Yes. Any hole you want."
     "I want her cunt." I really didn't have a choice
anyway. But Monica knew exactly how to manipulate me. So I
was stuck with Clara's mouth. That really wasn't so bad
actually. My cock was still tingling with the tightness of
her throat. I hadn't even gotten it all the way down. There
had been a good inch, maybe two, outside her lips by the
time she'd past out.
     Monica pushed and I pulled on the girl, getting her
into position on the bed. Her head hung down partway off the
edge of the bed, her eyes staring up at me as I straddled
her face. My thick cock bumped over her face, spattering pre-
cum on her. She knew what she had to do. There was fear in
her eyes and her lips trembled.
     "Do you have to Daddy?"
     "Don't you want your Daddy?"
     "It'll hurt."
     "Not for very long, and not always."
     "Are you going to fuck me forever Daddy?" she asked,
the grimace of pain in her voice.
     "I don't know baby. I hope so."
     "Mommy will hurt me too, won't she?"
     "Yes. She's special in that way. Now open wide." I put
my fingers into her mouth and pried her lips apart. A wet
pink and red hole opened in her face. The tongue, bruised
and swollen, jumped back and forth in distress.
     "Hurry up," Monica said impatiently. I bent my raging
cock down. Slipped the dripping swollen head between her
lips and thrust, instantly wedging it at the back of her
throat. A muffled cry vibrated on my cock. I leaned forward,
lining up my weight, and thrust again. Clara's gag reflex
kicked in. Her blocked coughs and sputtering, the spittal
bubbling out of her nose, the pulsing squeeze on my cock as
her throat spasmed, nearly made me cum right then. I thrust
again, gaining perhaps another inch. Her throat, swollen
from the last mouth fuck, was even tighter and more tender
than before. She flayed at me with her small fists, tried to
kick at Monica with her feet. I grabbed her wrists and held
her arms down hard against the bed, then thrust my cock
forward again. Clara's back arched, lifting her buttocks off
the bed. A golden stream shot from her cunt and swung wildly
back and forth, splashing her mother. (According to Monica,
this was the sign of Clara's pleasure. Her pitch of
excitement, her release, manifested the only way it could be
in a young girl.)
     Stepping between the girl's legs, Monica seized each
ankle and pushed the two thin legs back over the girl,
bending her daughter in half, the knees nearly pressing
against the girl's chest, fully exposing her cunt and
asshole, glistening with freshly sprayed urine.
     My balls bounced against my daughter's forehead and
onto her closed eyes. Not more than an inch of my cock
remained outside her mouth. She could no longer breath, her
windpipe stopped up completely.
     Monica rubbed her fat fake cock into the small,
glistening, shallow slit that I had coveted for eleven
years. She found the small opening, and positioned herself.
The girl did not have much time -- and so neither did we. I
couldn't have stopped now, even if I'd want to. The bulging
throat of my little girl, the vise-like grip with which that
throat held my cock, Clara's useless desperate struggles,
the sight of Monica gripping the fat black dildo, the head
just beginning to split our daughter's smooth, bare, white
baby cunt -- I had no choice anymore.
     "Do it fast," I barked at Monica. She placed her cock
head on the spot, pressed down with both hands on Clara's
legs even harder, bending her literally in half, and
leveraged her hips up in order to get a good true straight
thrust. Clara's hands, convulsed into two little fists,
flailed around, striking her mother, striking me, attempting
to beat us off. I heard a light crack!, like a twig being
stepped on, from one of her joints. Clara's face was turning
blue, the light going out of her eyes. Only moments. Monica
thrust down hard. Our baby's small thin body convulsed with
the pain. Her throat vibrated with an attempted scream,
fellating my cock. I rammed my cock in all the way, pressing
my baby's chin tightly into my pubes, my balls filling her
nose.
     Monica's black dildo was already half way in, blood
oozing out around it from the torn hole in our baby's belly.
Shit squirted from her asshole, splattering the bed.
     Monica's member was so thick, the girl's little body so
small, that for all I could see her cunt had been totally
obliterated. Her throat was like a jack hammer, the death
convulsions superhuman in strength, on the verge it seemed
of crushing my own cock. Pinkish spittle and mucus bubbled
up out of her nose and around the cock filling her mouth.
Monica, with a wild animal scream, thrust into her baby
again, driving the black dildo completely into her. Clara's
back arched reflexively, thrusting her hips hard into her
mom's dildo, driving it even further, undoubtedly tearing
apart her little girl womb. I came, hot paternal sperm
jetting into my daughter's ravaged body. Clara shuddered,
jerked, seemingly in time to my own convulsions, then went
limp. She relaxed and sank back quietly into the bed. A few
diminishing spasms around her daddy's cock sucked the final
drops of spunk from me, and then I felt nothing but warm,
wet heavy flesh hugging my member.
     Monica, after a last few sharp thrusts into the limp
body of her baby girl, withdrew. The black dildo was
dripping with red. Monica wrapper her hand around it and
stroked, coating her palm with the sticky warm blood. Then
she brought it to her face and licked. She licked until her
hand was again, only a few traces of blood flecked around
her mouth.
     "Do with her want you want until I get back." She
gripped the knife on her waist. "But leave this to me." Even
Monica had not even gone that far. I was horrified - but my
cock jumped nonetheless.
     Monica left the room. I was going to have her cunt, one
way or another. Her body was still warm, pliable, and that
was enough for me. The girl's throat in its death spasm had
relaxed, and I easily pulled out. I positioned myself
between her legs, pulling them wide apart into a broad "Y" -
- almost into a "T" actually, with absolutely no protests
from her. The gash between those skinny legs was red, raw,
bleeding. The torn flesh hung loosely out of her. I guided
my cock, and with one strong steady thrust pushed into her.
Jesus Christ! Her tissues had swollen nearly shut, making
her nearly as tight as a virgin. The hot sticky blood clung
to my cock. I thrust into a mass of torn, swollen, oozing
innards. Blood splattered up onto my belly as a pumped her.
Harder and harder I slammed into the bottom of her belly,
trying I guess to tear her up with my real cock more than
Monica could with her fake.
     Suddenly, a moan, then a shudder. Clara gasped weakly
and came to life. Every slam into her body shook her. The
next thrust brought a cry of pain. She was definitely still
alive. I don't know how. Her brain must have been without
oxygen for many minutes so maybe she was actually brain
dead, and her body reacting autonomically.
     "Daddy," she moaned.
     "Yes, baby," I panted fucking her even harder and
deeper. Her face twitched in pain. Her eyes were open, but
seemed unfocused, even vacant.
     "Fuck me Daddy," she mumbled. Maybe her brain was shot,
but my girl knew exactly what to say.
     "I'm fucking you baby, fucking your whore cunt to
pieces."
     She began to chant in a childish sing-song: "Fuck me
fuck me fuck me."
     This was going to be mine, and mine alone.
     I leaned down over her and grasped her bruised and
battered throat. I squeezed. Her eyes bulged out. I thrust
hard into her. I must have torn half way up into her belly,
for a agonized cry of extreme pain shot from her mouth
despite my hand squeezing her neck. Her crotch and mine
slamming into each other was nothing but a bloody mess now.
     I gazed into her eyes as I squeezed and fucked,
rattling her small frail body. Her face turned blue, her
eyes bugled even more, her tongue, dark purple, fluttered
against her teeth. Reddish spittle bubbled up out of her
mouth. Then her cunt came to life. Squeezing me, pulling at
me, amazingly powerful contractions. I in turn squeezed her
throat even tighter. Her lungs were empty of air now, and no
more was getting in. A crack, then a snap, as her throat
collapsed under my grip. Her cunt gripped me like a steel
vice and I came again, shooting thick heavy cum into the
bloody mess of her unused and now useless womb. Her head
rolled to the side, Her neck was half its living diameter,
half collapsed, black and blue where my fingers had dug into
her. I applied my lips to hers, and gave her a tender
goodbye kiss.
     I felt a hand on my shoulder. Monica. She pushed me off
Clara, then knelt between the dead girl's legs and putting
her mouth to the bleeding ravaged cunt hole, sucked and
licked it like a madwoman, drinking/eating the cummy, bloody
debris of our handiwork.
     
     Later, Monica did use the knife on her, slicing into
her belly and up to her chin just the way she'd been nearly
butchered by her own father. I was stroking myself as she
stuck the knife into her just about the cunt. When she
pulled the knife up, cutting her open I came again,
splattering my spunk into the open incision. I quickly left,
not wanting to witness what Monica would do next.

THE END
     
___________________________________________________


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