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Message-ID: <56406asstr$1186751401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Rufus Fugit <rufusfugit@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Jenny's Couch, part 22 (Karen's Party 1) (Mg, Fg, ped, mast, prost, cons, reluc, humil, forced-exhib, hot pepper oil, drugs) by Rufus Fugit
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Date: Fri, 10 Aug 2007 09:10:01 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This is an erotic story featuring adults and children. If you don't
want to read such a thing, don't. If it's illegal for you to read it
whoever and wherever you are, I don't really care. Don't read it, or
don't get caught. Either way, it's your problem. 

This is my story. It may be freely distributed and reposted to free
sites, or the free areas of pay sites, so long as authorship is
properly credited and these introductory paragraphs are included. If
you can find someone silly enough to pay you for this story and you
steal it for that purpose, well, mazel tov and fuck you. 

This story is F-I-C-T-I-O-N. No actual children or adults or anything
were involved in its production. What part of "made up" don't you
understand? Intelligent feedback gratefully accepted at rufusfugit at
yahoo dot com. Stupid feedback and flames to /dev/null.

Jenny's Couch, part 22 (Karen's Party 1) (Mg, Fg, ped, mast, prost,
cons, reluc, humil, forced-exhib, hot pepper oil, drugs) by Rufus Fugit

"Give me your panties," Moira said.

Karen shrank back against me. The four of us were crammed into the
front seat of Moira's gigantic rustbucket Chevrolet. Moira was driving,
and I was sitting between the children. I had my right arm around
nine-year-old Renee, holding her cuddled against me, and Karen was
between me and Moira, sitting with her scabby knees high and her pretty
white dress sandals resting on the transmission hump. "But why?" the
eleven-year-old asked plaintively. It was nearly full dark on our last
night of vacation and we were about halfway to Moira's house, rattling
and belching smoke down the old state highway.

"Because you're a whore, and whores don't need panties when they're
working," Moira replied. She was in a good mood tonight and you could
hear the smile in her voice, but there was some steel lurking behind
the smile and it was to that Karen reacted. I saw her chin tremble in
the dash lights. They flickered and sometimes went out entirely when
the car hit a bump.

"But I thought..." Karen's voice was rising and I put a gentle,
restraining hand on her tan thigh. She was wearing her new outfit, a
flaring, pleated denim miniskirt in cornflower blue. Her top was
watered silk, cut low in front and lower in back, spaghetti-strapped,
white with a faint pattern of vines and flowers. The light fabric
showed off her tan to good advantage. Her sun-streaked blonde hair
spilled loose over the golden skin of her bare shoulders and arms.
Jenny had thought the top a bit too old for Karen when we'd found it at
the outlet mall, but had relented on the condition that her older
daughter wear it with a camisole. And, eyeing the eleven-year-old's
perky nipples outlined through the thin fabric, she'd told the child
that it was probably time to go shopping for lingerie when we got back
home.

Now Karen twisted in her seat to look at me. Her eyes were shiny in the
near-dark. "I thought you said this was my party."

"Actually, sweetie, what I said was you're going to be the guest of
honor. And you are." I idly caressed Renee's chest as I spoke. She was
wearing a tie-dyed strapless sundress we'd found in a cheesy hippie
emporium tucked back off he main tourist strip. It was a cheap, thin
cotton, and probably wouldn't survive too many washings but it had only
been a few bucks and it looked very cute. It was dark purple at the
hem, lightening to a pale pink at the elastic bodice. Small yellow,
orange, and red sunbursts splashed across the dress front and back. I
had my fingers inside the loose elastic, gently tweaking the
third-grader's nipples and rubbing the pads of puppyfat they rode atop.
She had her head leaned back in the crook of my shoulder. Her brown
hair was frizzy from the humidity. It tickled against my jawline. Her
eyes were black in the dimness, her full lips gently pursed. She made
little hums of pleasure deep in her throat as I touched her. Her left
hand rested lightly on the stiff bulge my erection made in my shorts.
She pressed down lightly, then used just her fingertips to trace the
length of the shaft. I sighed in pleasure, kissing the top of her head
to encourage her to continue. Traffic was sparse on the old two-lane
and it was nearly night anyway, but it was still a delightful thrill to
be engaged in mutual fondling with the nine-year-old in public.

I hadn't been sure that Jenny and Rob would go for letting the girls
stay away overnight on the last night of our vacation. Moira had been
on her best behavior when we all went out to dinner several days ago.
They had seemed to like her, and they had accepted our tale of how
Karen tripped and fell while running in the parking lot to explain her
scraped palms and skinned knees and the obvious pain she was in. Karen
had confirmed the story, if monosyllabically, and had spent dinner
shifting gingerly from cheek to cheek on the hard benches at the crab
shack. The next day, of course, she had felt a lot worse. Her bandaged
scrapes weren't so bad but her entire body ached, most of all her
stretched, abused preteen vagina. She felt bruised inside and out, and
every time she moved her legs or even breathed deeply her badly mauled
clitoris throbbed dully. But concealment had become second nature to
her and she hid the extent of her discomfort from her parents. I
watched her closely at first and only the occasional wince or sharp
catch of her breath betrayed her, so gradually I relaxed. She
complained to Jenny of a twisted knee to get ibuprofen for a couple of
days and that helped some as well.

I'd broached the idea of the party midweek. It was ostensibly a
gathering of Moira's college buddies to watch the bowl game. The team
had broken a years-long losing streak, so it was a big deal if you
cared about that kind of thing, which I pretended to, a little. Moira
had invited all of us, I said, but she also wanted to know if she could
"hire" the girls to help out with serving snacks and such. She offered
to pay them, even. Just five dollars an hour, but not bad money if
you're nine and eleven. I knew Jenny and Rob cared even less for
football than I did, so it wasn't much of a gamble to include them in
the invitation. They declined but then I suggested that I could take
the girls and we could have a sleepover at Moira's after the game,
giving their parents the condo to themselves for one last long nap,
nudge-nudge wink-wink, before we had to head back home. It had taken
some more talk and a phone call to Moira to discuss ground rules, but
they'd finally agreed. Rob was worried that a crowd of college students
watching a football game would get too rowdy for the girls, but Moira
had reassured him that her crew was pretty laid-back and there would be
other kids there. That was stretching a bit, though it was true that
some of the invitees would be bringing high-school-aged younger
brothers. In any case, I promised to keep an eye on things and put the
girls to bed if it seemed to be getting wild.

The girls had reacted characteristically - Renee jumping around with
enthusiasm and Karen with more restraint. I'd emphasized to Karen the
next day that the football and the job was just a cover story for a
party where she would be, yes, the guest of honor. She knew that, of
course, but it reinforced once again that she was actively lying to her
parents, working together with me to keep the truth of her new life
from them. 

I hadn't gone into any details about what "guest of honor" entailed. 

Later I'd tried to talk to her further, to apologize for letting things
get so out of hand with Dr. K. We'd been desultorily working on a
sandcastle while Jenny, Rob, and Renee played in the gentle surf. She
just closed down, though, when I raised the subject. "It was my fault,"
she said, looking down at her delicate toes digging in the warm sand.
"I thought he was creepy but I went with him anyway." I started to
protest - after all, I had pretty much pimped her to the fat pervert,
but she cut me off. She raised her head to look at me, and there was
something so hard and empty in the child's wide blue eyes, so
incongruous with her undefined features, that I fell silent. She said
harshly, "That's what can happen when you're a whore," and looked away.

I felt almost abashed. "Okay," I said, "you're right. And now that
Moira's shown you what to do and how to turn tricks, from now on you
get to decide." I leaned forward and pressed my palm briefly against
the warm, yielding crotch of her swimsuit. Karen jumped and shuddered
slightly. "From now on nothing goes in that babycunt unless you say
so." The child kept her head turned away. There was tension in her
jawline and neck and perhaps her eyes were shiny. When she made no
response, I sat back and dropped the subject.

But now she tossed my words back at me. "You promised," she said. "I'm
still sore. Everywhere, not just my c-cunt. You promised it was up to
me."

"I know, sweetie." I put my arm around the eleven-year-old's skinny
back, gently squeezing her forearm and pulling her to me. I bent to
speak into her ear, smelling the delicate fragrance of her baby shampoo
and the eau de toilette that Jenny had let her dab on for the special
occasion. "But no one's saying you have to fuck. Moira just wants your
panties. And she arranged this party just for you. You're her whore
tonight so you should do what she says." I gently licked at the child's
ear and nibbled her tender lobe. I was hard already from the willing
access Karen's younger sister was giving me to her boobies, but the
scent of her and the sexy way she shivered when I puffed air in her ear
made me swell against my briefs. "Go on, now."

Karen made a noise in her throat like a soft whimpering sigh, but she
lifted her butt off the cracked duct tape that crisscrossed the seat.
She reached under her short skirt and with an awkward shimmy tugged a
scrap of white fabric into view. She pressed her legs together and
rolled her panties down her thighs until they bound her bent knees
together in front of the dash. "Good girl, thank you," I kissed her
cheek and finished the job for her, leaning forward to pull the fabric
down her calves and lift her feet to free them.

"But why can't I keep them on?" Karen asked again.

"Number one, we want them to stay nice and clean. You don't want Daddy
to find cunt juice or squirt all over them when he does the laundry, do
you?" In the dim green dash light I saw Karen gulp at the thought. She
shook her head vigorously. I continued before it occurred to her the
same reasoning applied to all the rest of her clothing. She'd find out
soon enough. "Number two -" I raised the fabric, still warm from her
body, to my face and inhaled deeply and ostentatiously. "- everyone
loves the smell of your whore babycunt!" Karen blushed, but she smiled
shyly. In her mind such statements had become praise, the kind of
praise and validation she had always craved from adults. "Well, almost
everyone." I pushed the tangled underwear into her younger sister's
face. Renee twisted her head away with a muffled "uh-uh!" sound. "But
Moira really loves it," I continued, handing her Karen's underwear,
"and it's a little tough for her to smell it from the source while
she's driving." Moira and I chuckled together.

Karen's panties were damp and smelled mostly of perspiration but there
was a tantalizing undertone of her juicy preteen sex. Moira pressed
them to her face and sniffed loudly. "Mmm, babycunt! Mmm, mmm, good!"
she declared. Renee leaned forward and looked on with fascinated
disgust as she realized the young woman was sucking on her big sister's
underwear. Karen squirmed. The destroyed upholstery was itchy and
uncomfortable against her now-bare butt and the fabric of her skirt was
rough against her still-sensitive labia.

Moira took a last sniff and let the fifth-grader's panties fall into
her lap. "I'm sorry your cunt's still botherin' you. I got somethin'
here that'll help." She reached down to rummage in her purse on the
floorboards and came up with a small plastic tube. "Athletes use this
when they get sore. I'll numb you up a little, make you feel better.
Hold out your hands, honey." When Karen obeyed, Moira thumbed the
flip-top cap and squirted a generous portion of thick white cream into
her palms. It smelled strongly of mint and Karen looked down at it
dubiously. "Go ahead, now," Moira insisted. "Rub it in good. Get your
little button, too."

Karen slumped slightly in the seat and let her knees fall open, using
thumb and forefinger to flip up her denim skirt and expose her bald
preteen vulva. She used both hands to smear the cream all around her
crotch, gingerly using two fingers to thickly coat her sore clitoris.
She even rolled her right index finger in her left palm to coat it and
carefully inserted it into herself, wincing and groaning softly at the
painful penetration, her first in over a week.

Moira was right. Almost instantly Karen felt better. The constant ache
in her genitals faded. The warm, sticky air blowing through the car
felt suddenly cooling on the skin where she had spread the cream.
Wiping her hands clean on the seat, she pulled her skirt higher,
slumping down and hooking her heels on the edge of the seat. She let
her knees fall open, sighing and spreading her skinny naked thighs as
widely as she could.

But after a few seconds, the cool feeling got stronger. The numbness
was replaced by a slight tingling, starting on her bald labia and
spreading up to her mound and her clitoris. At first it felt pleasant,
but it rapidly grew in intensity. Karen shifted on the seat, trying to
get more air flowing across her heating little quim, but to no avail.
Sweat popped out on her forehead and upper lip as her discomfort
increased. Her hands danced in the air, brushing over her exposed
spread thighs but not quite touching her center. It wasn't until she
made a soft sound, a little whine, that I noticed her distress.
"It's...oh, it's...hot...ooh, ow, ow!" Karen moaned more loudly as the
tingling escalated rapidly to stinging. "Gah! Guh...ow!" She gasped and
shivered as her diaphragm spasmed, forcing the breath out of her. She
writhed on the seat. The feeling of heat got more and more intense. Her
inner passage where she had applied the cream felt sandpapered, swollen
and raw. Her clitty was worse. The bruised flesh where Dr. K had
brutally mauled it felt like it was splitting open. She was burning!

"What the hell...?" I exclaimed. I reached over the squirming,
half-naked child to pick up the tube of cream. I squinted at it in the
dim light. "Shit! Moira - this stuff is loaded with capsaicin!"

Moira turned and looked dead at me over Karen's head. A mean smile
tugged at one corner of her mouth. "Oops." Karen was starting to flail
around in the seat, and Moira pushed her roughly against me. "I'm
trying to drive here," she said, and looked forward again. 

Karen was accustomed to a certain amount of pain whenever she had
intercourse. Starting from the day I had deflowered her on her family
room couch her vagina had been stretched to the limit to accommodate
adult-sized penises. But that pain was followed by the wonderful
explosion of orgasmic pleasure she had come to need so desperately, and
indeed the two had become inextricably linked in her immature mind.
This was different. She wasn't aroused, at least, no more than the past
months of repeated sexual and mental abuse had led her to be nearly
every waking minute. She was just burning. Tears sprang to her eyes.
"Ow! OwwwwWWW! It HURTS! AIIGH!" Her hands flapped in the air, waving
over her tortured genitals. "YIII!" She slapped her prominent bare mons
convulsively, like she was trying to beat out flames. The slap made the
burning recede for just a second, so she did it again. "YIII!" Then she
lost control, smacking her hands repeatedly against her tiny bald
snatch. Her cries got louder and more hysterical. "HUUH, HUUH, AIIEGH,
OOOOOW!" She dug the fingers of both hands into her slit, crazily
trying to find the pain and pull it out.

I had to restrain her before she really injured herself. I grabbed her
and pulled her into my lap. I pinned her hands to her sides, holding
tight as she thrashed against me and sobbed wildly. Her feet kicked
out, thumping against the dash and the floorboards as her bare legs
flashed and she thrust her crotch up uncontrollably. Renee shrank back
against the door. One tiny nipple peeked unnoticed from the top of her
dress as she stared at her big sister with eyes wide and terrified.

This was far from the right time, but Karen's hot little ass bouncing
against my lap had me at full hardness. I briefly entertained the idea
of silencing her by freeing my swollen member from my shorts and
thrusting it into her. Of course it would have had the opposite effect,
not to mention getting some of the sports cream on my own tender bits.
The fantasy was pleasant but the reality was Karen was incoherent with
pain, frantic and out of control. She thrashed in my grip, sobbing and
making little screams of agony as the chili extract worked on the
clustered nerve endings of her most sensitive tissues. I held her
tightly, sparing a quick look at her younger sister. Renee had curled
herself into the furthest corner of the seat. Her face was pale and
pinched with fear. "It's OK, sweetie," I tried to reassure her.
"Karen'll be...ugh!...all right in a few minutes." I grunted as the
fifth-grader's flailing heels caught me on the shin. Spittle flew from
her lips as she howled. Her face was scarlet. The cords in her neck
stood out like cables. I spread my legs and pushed her down from my lap
to sit between my open thighs. I trapped her legs beneath my own so I
could hold her mostly immobile. Her skirt rode up so it was her bare,
hot buttocks that flexed and bounced against my crotch.

It was a very long ten minutes before the old blacktop took us into the
small town where Moira attended college. We turned into the parking lot
of her apartment complex. The lot was unpaved and lit by a pair of
fading sodium-vapor security lights. There was a lot of trash strewn
around and broken beer bottles glittered in the wan illumination. The
buildings were generic 12-square three-story structures, rather
neglected and worn from years of student tenancy. 

Karen had exhausted herself. Her screams had faded to a low, steady
moaning. Her head drooped forward. Her skirt was flipped up and she had
watched in mounting horror as her vulva had swollen and flushed nearly
purple from the chemical irritant. Her inner lips were thick, flowered
open and speckled with what looked like hives. Her oversized clitoris
stood out, bent unnaturally to one side. Clear fluid weeped from her
vaginal opening. I had one arm clamped across her chest, restraining
her arms, and with my other hand I stroked her forehead and hair.
"You'll be OK," I reassured her, "It'll feel better soon." I murmured
into one flushed ear, "We'll help you, but we have to walk now and you
have to be quiet. If you scream someone might call the cops, and if you
get arrested it'll be hours before anyone helps you, and your sister
will get arrested too. I know you don't want that, do you?" The child
was probably in too much pain to even notice my easy lie, but she
nodded weakly, her head flopping forward and back. "Good. Renee and I
will help you, but now we have to get out and walk."

I reached over and pushed the door open. "Renee, take your sister's
hand." Together we climbed out of the car while Moira killed the engine
and got out on the other side. Karen stood with difficulty. She tugged
her miniskirt down to cover her preteen charms. Her features were pale
and twisted in pain, her face and high forehead shiny with sweat in the
uncertain light. I saw the muscles knot along her soft jawline. I took
her other hand and together we started walking. Karen took little
hobbling steps, trying to hold her hips and thighs as still as
possible. With each footfall, a soft, snuffling whine forced itself
past her clenched teeth. She squeezed my hand with all her childish
strength.

Moira led us straight through the breezeway of one building and along a
short, looping path until we arrived at the complex swimming pool. Like
the parking lot the area was dim and somewhat neglected, though the
water was clear and brightly lit from below. A chain-link gate stood
open, a faded sign proclaiming "Pool Closes At Dusk" hanging askew. We
walked through to the pool apron. "Renee, unbuckle your sister's
shoes," I said. The nine-year-old looked at me quizzically, but bent to
obey, her fingers fumbling with the straps. I dropped Karen's hand and
stepped around behind her. I took a second to gather her loose,
waist-length hair into a ponytail. "Raise your arms," I said and,
grabbing the hem of her silk top and camisole together, lifted them up
to her armpits, baring her puffy, tender nipples to the humid night
air. At the same time, Moira tugged down on the fifth-grader's denim
miniskirt and it fell in a puddle at her feet.

"Hey!" Karen exclaimed as it penetrated her suffering that she was
suddenly naked. The warm, muggy air caressed her bare skin but lanced
into the raw, inflamed tissues of her vulva and clitoris. Her
exclamation was muffled as I forced her arms up and pulled her top over
her head, finishing the job of stripping her.

"Get in the water now," I told her. "It's nice and cold and it will
make the burning go away."

"But...I can't...naked...what if someone sees...?" Karen stammered.

"People swim naked here," Moira assured her breezily. "No one will
mind." And with that she gave Karen a shove. Off-balance, the skinny
fifth-grader tripped with one leg still tangled in her skirt, stumbled,
and fell into the deep end of the pool with a splash. She surfaced
screaming in shock. The water was indeed cold, but it was an instant
blessed relief from the pain of her scalded genitals. Years of swimming
lessons and her natural grace asserted themselves, and after a few
seconds the naked child was treading water, looking up at us.

"You swim until you feel better, honey. We'll be back to get you in a
while." And with that I stooped, gathered her clothing in one arm and
took Renee's hand with the other. "And I've got some words for you,
Missy!" I said sternly to Moira as we headed off to her apartment.

Karen stared at our retreating backs as her head bobbed at the surface
of the water. All she could focus on was the agony in her crotch, but
as she kicked her legs the blissfully cold water rushed over her. After
a few moments, she rolled onto her side and into a freestyle stroke.
There was nothing else to do.

Karen swum the length of the pool slowly, then kicked off and headed
back the other way. She was an excellent swimmer. She'd been on the
team for a year but she didn't really care for the competition. She was
looking forward to getting her junior lifeguard certificate when she
turned twelve. Now, overwhelmed by pain and the confusion of being
suddenly stripped and tossed into the pool, she thought of nothing but
swimming. Legs straight, toes pointed, hands cupped,
stroke-stroke-stroke-breathe. Her world narrowed to the approaching
wall, her controlled breathing, the muted splashing as she cut through
the water. The frigid liquid felt delicious as it slid over her bare
back and stomach, curled around her legs, churned and caressed and
calmed the fading heat in her cunt, cooling all her secret places as it
flowed into and over and through her. She relaxed into the familiar
discipline, pulling herself harder and faster through the water until
the blood hummed in her ears.

After several laps she stopped in the center of the pool. She trod
water for a few seconds, panting and blowing, then lay onto her back
and floated. She sculled her arms languorously, slowly propelling
herself around in a circle. Her long, loose hair floated around her
head in waving tendrils, like blonde seaweed. She looked down at her
smooth, nude body. Only her toes, her prominent mound -
freshly-depiliated by Dr. K, but her mind shied away from that memory -
and her nipples poked out of the water. They stiffened with gooseflesh
in the air.

Karen wiggled her toes, watching the ripples they made in the cold,
clear water. Her nose was full of the scent of chlorine. She put her
head back and looked straight up overhead. Her ears went under the
water, muffling the sounds of the hot night - buzzing insects, a rumble
of traffic on the nearby road, raucous laughter echoing from somewhere
in the complex. A sliver of moon was visible overhead but no stars
could be seen through the haze and the dim orange glow of the few
functioning security lights. For a few moments she just relaxed,
listening to the gentle movement of the water, feeling her bare chest
expand and contract with her breathing, the cold water lapping
soothingly at her labia. Then she rolled over and frog-kicked her way
to the wall.

Holding on to the rounded rim of the pool, Karen looked around. The
pool apron was empty. Apartment buildings surrounded it, set at odd
angles. Some of the windows were uncurtained and Karen could see
figures moving inside, washed in cheery, yellow lamplight. A man and a
woman kissed. A little girl was setting the table with her mommy. A
daddy sat on a couch watching tv, his arms around two little children.
Karen started to lever herself out of the pool, but then she realized
she had nowhere to go. She had no idea which apartment was Moira's and
not even a whore could go knocking on random doors wet and naked. Her
clothing had been taken from her. She was miles from her parents,
hundreds of miles from home, lost. She was suddenly certain she had
been forgotten. When she didn't return Mommy and Daddy would go home
without her. She would be left here without clothes, without friends,
without hope. 

The eleven-year-old moaned as the strength went out of her and she slid
back into the water. She folded her thin arms on the edge of the pool,
dropped her head to rest on them, and wept bitterly. Her skinny
shoulders heaved as she cried, shoulderblades poking out the tan skin.
Her puffy pre-breasts pressed against the cool, cracked tiles of the
pool wall.

Through her sobs, Karen heard footsteps approaching. She lifted her
tearstained face and saw Moira looking down at her. The young woman had
changed into a short, white terrycloth robe that bared her muscular
legs to mid-thigh. Her brown curls were wet. She was carrying a large
beach towel, but nothing for Karen to wear. There was no one with her -
Karen's uncle was nowhere to be seen. "What's wrong, kitten?" Moira
asked, not unkindly.

Karen slipped down until only her head and hands were above water. Her
face was pale against the clear blue of the pool, her eyes round and
wide. She was weak with relief but terrified now of being alone with
Moira. "I thought...you left me," she managed to gasp out.

"Oh, no, kitten, we're all just getting ready for your party. Time for
you to come in, now. Get on out of the water."

Karen closed her eyes. A minute ago she was longing to be somewhere
else; now she wanted to stay here forever or at least until Moira went
away. But she feared the consequences of disobedience more. She
swallowed hard and pulled herself up out of the pool. She stood naked
before Moira, looking up at her. Water dripped off her slender,
undeveloped body. The skin of her face was tight and despite the warm
night she was shivering with anxiety. Moira shook the towel out and
started drying Karen, touching her impersonally. Karen couldn't help
but flinch away from her.

Moira looked at her quizzically. "What's the matter, kitten? You
scared?" Karen nodded, her chin wobbling, near tears. "You scared of
me? How come?"

"You...you HURT me!" Karen burst out, then gasped and raised her fists
to her chin, as if tensing against a blow.

"Aw, I'm real sorry about that, kitten," Moira said sweetly. Her voice
sounded sincere. "It was just supposed to be a little joke. I had no
idea it would hurt like that, I swear." Her accent got thicker as she
spoke cajolingly to the preteen.

"Not just now, you hit me before!" Karen knew she should keep quiet,
but she couldn't help herself. She had a preadolescent's strong sense
of fairness and Moira had outraged it.

"Yeah, well, sometimes I get angry." Moira tossed her head. "But I made
ya feel good, too, didn't I? Didn't you like the way I ate your little
pussy on the beach?" Karen blushed, remembering the delicious feeling
of Moira's lips on her clitoris, and the naughty pleasure of being
fingerbanged by her, naked in the back seat of her car. Moira stepped
forward and this time Karen stood still as the tall young woman gently
rubbed the towel against her wet skin. Her body was coming alive to the
feeling of standing naked outside. For a fleeting moment she almost
regretted there was no one else to see.

Moira took Karen's hand and led her away from the pool, sitting her
down on the edge of a chaise lounge. She sat down behind the naked
eleven-year-old and began brushing out Karen's waist-length blonde
hair. She was extraordinarily gentle and Karen couldn't help but start
to relax back into her touch.

"How's your cunt feel, kitten? All better?"

The dirty slang term for her privates no longer fazed Karen, no more
than sitting naked outside in a strange place with her privates on full
display, no more than being with an adult who had fingered and kissed
and licked those privates days before, no more than being asked such a
personal question by someone she didn't even like. She wriggled
experimentally, pressing her vulva against the chair's plastic webbing.
"It doesn't sting anymore. I'm still a little sore from...you know, the
other day."

"I got just the thing for that...no, really," Moira laughed as Karen
stiffened and jerked her head around in alarm. She pulled something
from her pocket but it was difficult to see in the dim light. Karen
leaned forward, then blinked at the sudden flare of a lighter. Moira
had a funny-looking cigarette between her lips. "You ever toke up,
kitten?"

"Toke?" Karen echoed dumbly. "You mean like...drugs?"

"Now, you ain't gonna be a silly little kid about this, are ya? Ain't
nothin' wrong with a little pot, no matter what bullshit they tell ya
in school."

Karen had indeed sat through a D.A.R.E. unit earlier in the school
year, but before she could say anything Moira touched the lighter flame
to the end of the twist of paper in her mouth. It glowed orange as she
inhaled. She held her breath briefly and then blew out, wreathing their
heads in thick, sweet-smelling smoke. It tickled Karen's sinuses. She
wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in the air. Moira took the joint
from between her lips and held it out. "You try it. Go ahead."

Karen wanted to demur but she heard something in Moira's tone that
warned her not to. Obediently she took the joint and put it to her lips
but she couldn't figure out how to smoke it. Her throat closed up and
the smoke went up into her sinuses. She choked and her eyes watered.

Moira took the joint back. "I'll help ya. This here's called a
'shotgun'." She moved closer to Karen on the chair, their bare knees
touching. "Now when I blow, you suck. Breathe in until your lungs are
full, then hold it in as long as you can, okay?" 

Karen nodded. She was fascinated to watch Moira turn the joint around
and put it lit-end-first into her mouth. "How come it doesn't burn
her?" she thought, but then Moira put her hand on the back of Karen's
neck and gently pulled the preteen's face towards her own until their
lips were almost touching. Her robe fell open as she leaned forward and
Karen saw she wasn't wearing anything underneath it. Karen wondered if
she would get breasts like that, full and round with brown, pointy
nipples, but then her face was full of smoke. She didn't want to anger
Moira so she inhaled, hard, until her lungs would hold no more. She
clapped one hand over her mouth. The smoke filled her chest, roiling
and expanding and pushing against her throat. In just a few seconds it
exploded out of her. She bent forward, wracked with uncontrollable
coughing. Drool sprayed on the pavement between her bare feet. It
seemed like forever before she got herself under control. She became
aware of Moira's warm hand stroking the knobs of her spine, the chair's
webbing against her chubby cuntlips as she leaned forward, the rough
concrete warm on her soles. Her throat felt raw and hot but as soon as
she pushed herself upright Moira pulled her close and did it again.
This time she managed to hold the smoke in a little longer, but the
coughing fit when it came hurt her scraped throat more.

Karen sat up, blinking in the yellow-orange sodium light. It seemed
brighter somehow and she noticed how the air shimmered with humidity.
She heard the soft tinking sound, high overhead, of bugs flying into
the bulbs. A warm breeze puffed against her and her skin prickled all
over. Her nipples stiffened and she gasped in sudden, unexpected
pleasure. Moira put a hand on her bony shoulder and leaned in close.
Her green eyes looked enormous. Karen couldn't look away. Expecting
another shotgun, she opened her mouth but Moira's other hand went
around the back of her neck and pulled their faces together. Their lips
touched.

Karen's eyes widened in shock. In the months since she had experienced
her first orgasm, tied naked to a chair in her little sister's bedroom,
she had fucked more times than she could count, with her uncle and with
maybe twenty strangers besides. At age eleven she had already had more
partners than most adult women would in their entire lives. But the
only sex thing she had ever done with her mouth was put a cock in it
(well, and her sister's cunny those two times). She had never been
kissed. With the marijuana heightening her perceptions, Moira's lips
moving against hers were a revelation. She groaned involuntarily into
the older woman's mouth. Her tummy went all fluttery and her nipples
stiffened further to a pleasant ache. Moira's tongue flicked out,
rasping gently across her lips and moving between her teeth. Karen
sucked against the gentle pressure of intrusion, savoring the warmth
and supple roughness. It tasted delicious.

"Oh, jeez," Karen breathed as Moira sucked on her bottom lip. She
gasped as sharp little canines nipped and a spike of pleasure shot
straight through her. She felt her pulse in her heating little snatch
and her toes curled against the pavement. Her skin burned beneath
Moira's touch as her hands moved around to her front. She yipped softly
as Moira tugged in turn on both stiff, puffy nips.

When Moira broke their kiss some unknowable time later, Karen's heart
was pounding and she was panting with preteen lust. Her eyes were
glazed, her lips swollen and bee-stung. Her cunt felt hot and wet and
juicy. Her thoughts were racing in circles; somewhere in the back of
her head she knew this wasn't smart, that Moira was dangerous, but that
voice was overwhelmed by the buzzing need welling up from her button.
Karen had no way of knowing it was the effects of the marijuana
intensifying her senses and confusing her thoughts. She simply
surrendered to her body as she had become conditioned to, as she had
been taught a whore should.

Moira opened her robe completely and leaned against the chair's angled
back, spreading her legs around Karen and arching her back. Karen's
gaze was transfixed on her breasts, so round and full and unlike
Karen's own undeveloped chest. Without conscious volition Karen saw her
own hands come up and cup them, gently squeezing each boob in turn.
They were warm. "Mmm, yeah, kitten, play with my titties if you want.
Oh, yeah. Pull on my nips, pull on them you little whore, ahhh..."

Karen giggled. "Pull on my nips," she echoed, then exclaimed "Oh!" as
Moira did, almost too hard. Moira's inner labia were open and
glistening in the dim light. Karen could smell her, spicy and pungent.
She could feel her own cunny starting to leak. She squeezed her skinny
naked thighs together, trying to get some friction against her
oversized clitoris. She made a little groan of frustration as Moira
stopped fondling her and pushed her own hands away. 

Moira stood, belting her robe loosely. She dipped into her pocket and
pulled out...something. Karen blinked her eyes, trying to focus as
Moira held it out. Karen's brain seemed to be working in slow motion
and her body lagged even further behind. It was a dog collar, a collar
and a leash, and before Karen could react Moira had fastened the black
leather snugly around her thin neck and was using it to pull her to her
feet. "Can't have you getting lost," she chuckled as she sauntered out
the pool gate and along the path to one of the apartment buildings,
pulling the naked fifth-grader gently along in her wake. The leash
jingled.

Karen stumbled on the cracked pathway. Her body felt light and her toes
a long ways away and she kept her head down, watching carefully where
she stepped. The leash caught the light as it swung back and forth
across her vision. She didn't notice when Moira halted and bumped right
into her. She stepped back, giggling, and realized they were standing
in front of a young man. He was tall and skinny with long, very black
hair, dressed in ragged denim shorts and a black tshirt. He had a thin
strip of beard down the center of his chin. He was staring at Karen
with disbelief and hunger, and she felt herself flushing slightly all
over with excitement and a little embarrassment, though it didn't even
enter her drug-addled mind to cover up. "Dang, Moy," the young man
said. "Who's your little, uh, pet?"

"You're comin' over to watch the game, right, Carl? This here's our
guest of honor. Introduce yourself, kitten." Moira gave a little jerk
on the leash.

Karen looked up at Carl; for this, at least, she knew what was expected
of her. "My name's Karen," she said, her high, childish voice sounding
a little echoey in her ears. "I'm Karen and I'm a whore." For some
reason Carl thought that was funny. He guffawed and grabbed Karen's
wrist, raising her hand to his face and sniffing deeply. Karen's blush
erupted in full force, her face flaming, because she suddenly realized
that the whole way from the pool she had been rubbing her cunny! She
remembered Hallowe'en when her only costume was body paint on her bare
skin. Just like then, she was masturbating herself in public, heedless
of anyone who might see.

Carl held her hand to the light. Her fingers were shiny with her
juices. The blush spread to her ears and down her neck to her chest and
she did an unconscious wriggling dance of embarrassment, hopping from
foot to bare foot, feeling her baby honey squish out of her as she
squeezed her thighs together. "It's true," she thought to herself. "I'm
a whore, a total whore." Nine weeks ago on that chilly October night
her embarrassment had turned to despair, but now it was different. Even
wearing a collar, even being walked on a leash like a dog, without even
the protection of a concealing paint job, she was a whore and proud of
it. She wasn't afraid. She knew how to find men to fuck. She had done
it, and she knew when she got home she would do it again. Instead of
despair, what she felt was defiance.

As Carl held her wrist up and licked greedily at her fingers, Karen
spread her stance wider on the uneven path. "Yeah, I'm a whore," she
said, looking up right into his eyes. She was still blushing but her
high voice was firm. "Look at my hot babycunt." She took her other hand
and slid it down between her legs, fingers stiff and cupped together.
She gasped as she rubbed at her slick clitoris. It swelled further
beneath her touch. She opened her legs wider still, bending her knees
slightly and pushing her hairless mons forward. "Touch my babycunt,"
she said, her eyes darting back and forth between the two adults,
Carl's bemused stare and Moira's smirk. "Go on, touch it. Touch my
babycunt. Touch my babycunt." Her voice got breathier as she chanted.
Her fingers moved faster and faster, making a slick sound as she
flicked her oversized clitty from side to side. Preadolescent sex
juices oozed out of her tight little hole, coating her hand and
dripping down her thighs. 

Then it happened. "Ah, ah, ah! Touch my...ah! babycunt. Ah, ah, no, no,
oh, ooh, OH! OH! OH!" It wasn't a big orgasm, but it had been building
since Moira had kissed her. Her vision went gray and her knees buckled.
For a second all she could hear was the pounding of her heart and her
harsh panting. Carl's hand around her wrist kept her from falling over.
She took a deep breath, then another as she got her feet back under
her. She brushed her blonde hair back from her face, smearing her own
cunt juice on her cheek, and looked up at him again.

"Dang," he repeated. His gaze roved over Karen's nude, diminutive form,
her straight figure and hairless, undeveloped vulva. "How old is she,
anyway?"

"What's that?" Moira answered. "I couldn't hear you."

"I said...oh." Carl rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll be by." He glanced at
his watch. "Kickoff's in about half an hour. See you then." And he
strolled off, chuckling.

To be continued...



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