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Message-ID: <62267asstr$1343214604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Sam Grume" <grumbles@linuxmail.org>
Subject: {ASSM} Bringing Up Baby {Uncle Grumbles} (mg Ds ped first spank reluc)
Lines: 899
Date: Wed, 25 Jul 2012 07:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d



 author: Uncle Grumbles
 title: Bringing Up Baby
 summary: Tomboy Learns Her Place
 keywords: Mg, first, Ds, spank

 Feedback appreciated; even if I'm doing it wrong, tell me how.

 ************

 "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

 Running away, she thought to herself, but Russell knocked the roll of
 bills out of her hand and dragged her back from her Mom's dresser.

 "None of your fucking biz...Ow! Let go! You're hurting...OW!"

 Russ had transferred his grip from her arm to her hair. She tried to
 struggle, but her scalp was about to rip from her skull.

 "Your Mom put me in charge while she's gone, remember? Anything I feel
 warranted, I can do. No questions asked. 'Just keep her from wrecking
 the house or going to jail or the emergency room. Whatever it takes,'
 she told us, and she made you repeat it, so don't tell me that's not
 what she meant."

 He was wagging her head back and forth. She gripped his wrists, hanging
 from them to relieve the tension.

 "I thought I knew you, Tracy. I've known you since I was five and you
 were a worm in a diaper, and I loved playing with you. We got into a lot
 of trouble together, but we had a lot of fun."

 She remembered. It just made her angrier. He'd been the moon and the
 stars to her, spent more time with her than her Mom did, and then he'd
 left!

 "I get sent to boarding school for two years, and come back for spring
 break to stay with my Best. Friend. Ever. while her Mom is out of town
 on business, and instead of the happy little dork I knew, I find a
 filthy mouthed demon who hates everybody. It's only been three days, and
 I'm ready to call the cops on you, you thieving little thug."

 For the first time in her life, she was afraid of him. When had he
 gotten so big and strong? He'd always been taller than her, but now...

 He towered over her, solid as a stone lion.

 He walked her backwards towards the bed. Her feet barely touched the
 floor.

 "Fine. You're not my friend anymore. But you are my ward, little girl,
 and I am your baby sitter, and you will do what you're told, or I will
 punish you."

 Her anger flared again despite her fear. Nobody called her "little"
 anymore, and "baby" had been a fighting word all her twelve years. And
 he knew that, she'd bloodied his nose over that!

 When the backs of her knees touched the mattress, Russ pushed her down
 on the bed. She tried to scramble away, but he grabbed her around her
 waist. The next thing she knew, she was across his lap. He pulled down
 her panties and shorts, shackling her calves.

 That shocked her into action. It was a short but painful fight, which
 she lost. She ended up across his lap anyway, arm up behind her back.

 She was stunned. He'd hit her. After all these years, and more fights
 than she could remember, he'd actually hit her. She could taste blood in
 her mouth from his slap. Sure, he had blood running down his cheek from
 a scratch, but....

 He didn't even count, just started swatting, hard. She screamed and
 struggled in murderous rage, but got nothing more than an aching
 shoulder and a burning butt.

 Suddenly, she was nine again and he was fourteen and they'd been trading
 insults and he'd taken theatrical offense at her theatrically not being
 offended, and he'd spanked her then, too, except not very hard and he
 hadn't pulled her jeans down, both of them laughing and breathing hard
 and blushing and they'd almost kissed except that they hadn't, somehow,
 and now thinking about it made her throat hurt worse than her butt, and
 she was crying.

 She didn't let herself cry anymore, because if she did, she'd cry all
 the time. Sure enough, she couldn't stop now.

 When he let go of her arm, she twisted around to put her head in his lap
 and her arms around his waist, and she just bawled and bawled and
 bawled.

 He rubbed her back, making soothing noises like she was a dog or
 something. "Good girl, it's over now, there's my good girl, shh, shh.
 Oh, my poor little baby girl, what happened to you?" Her anger pulsed,
 but was smothered by a strange glow of pleasure. She was still his girl.
 She'd always been his girl. She'd never let him say that, any more than
 she'd let him call her a baby, but now...She was his girl, and that was
 fine.

 The tears trickled to a stop. Russ leaned over to her Mom's night table
 and grabbed a handful of tissues. He held one to her nose.

 "Blow." She did, noisily. He threw it to the floor and wiped her face
 with a clean one, even dabbing at her eyes.

 He poked at her crack with the tissue.

 "So, baby girl, do I need to wipe your butt, too? Are we back to that?"

 The night he'd returned, her mother had trotted out a snapshot of him
 kneeling on the floor to change her diaper while she gazed up at him in
 open adoration. She'd vowed to find it and destroy it, before Mom could
 show it to a real boyfriend, and it was unspeakably rude for him to
 bring it up.

 "No, you fucking freak, stop that!"

 Instead, he leaned over to the nightstand again to squirt some lotion
 into his hand. He anointed her bottom with it, soothing the burn.

 She relaxed a little, and his hand stroked up and down her thighs,
 slipped between them, just above the knee, and drew higher and higher
 towards her...

 She froze. Her legs clenched back against his hand.

 "Stop that!"

 "Let go, baby girl."

 "What are you doing? No!"

 "'Stop' and 'no' haven't been working for me, the last few days. Why
 should they work for you?"

 She twisted away, or tried to, but he laughed, leaning down on her,
 holding her on his lap, while his hand worked its way towards her
 crotch.

 As she twisted, her faced rubbed against a bulge in his jeans. Startled,
 and more scared than ever, she summoned the strength to almost escape.

 Instead, he pulled her upright and she ended up straddling his knee, his
 other leg trapping her, arm around her waist.

 She couldn't move without stirring up the weirdest feelings in her naked
 crotch.

 They looked at each other for a moment, breathing hard, hot faced. Then
 his hand cupped the back of her head, and he pulled her in for their
 first kiss. He was not shy. His tongue pressed urgently against her
 lips, then he drew back.

 "Open your mouth for me, you silly little twink. You don't want to be a
 baby? Kiss like a big girl."

 He pinched her jaw hinge between thumb and fingers. It hurt a little.
 She clamped her mouth shut.

 His hand slid up under her shirt and pinched her nipple. She started to
 buck, but thought better of it when he didn't let go.

 "STOP IT! YOU'RE HURTING ME, YOU SHIT! LET ME GO, LET ME...."

 "Oh, hush."

 He twisted and she gasped to a halt.

 "I tried being nice, but Your Bitchy Little Highness wouldn't take the
 hint and behave herself."

 "Who are you....OW!"

 "I said hush." His voice was calm, but implacable. "Are you listening
 now?"

 She nodded.

 "You've always needed me to tell you what to do...shut it! You did, and
 you know it. I've always tried to let you do what you want, even if it
 would hurt you a little, just so you'd learn. And you did. We were quite
 the team, a boy and his tomboy sidekick."

 His hand fell away to her waist again, holding on loosely.

 "And then they sent me away to school. Sent me away, mind, I had no
 choice. I've sent letters that didn't get to you. I never got any from
 you, except birthdays and Christmas. I didn't blame you, because I knew
 you'd tried to send them. Do you know why I had to go to the Academy?"

 She shook her head.

 "Because my parents and your Mom thought we were too close. They thought
 we needed time apart to clear our heads."

 He kissed her forehead.

 "I did need the Academy. Needed to be taught self-discipline, how to
 follow, how to lead. But I never cleared my head of you."

 He kissed her left eye.

 "You, though, you just fell apart. You didn't have anybody to tell you
 what to do, and what not to do, and you fell apart.

 He kissed her right eye.

 "OK. You win. You've won, Trace. You made them bring me back. But now
 you're trying to make me do what you want by throwing tantrums like a
 little spoiled princess, trying to make me your servant."

 He took her shoulders and set her back. Her crotch shivered as it
 pivoted across his knee.

 "But you are not my princess, Trace. You are not even my little tomboy
 sidekick anymore, either. You are My Girl, and I am Your Man. And I am
 going to make sure, here and now, you never forget that, never forget
 who tells who to do what."

 And he leaned in to kiss her again while her mouth was hanging open in
 shock. His tongue pushed in against her own, and she almost choked,
 almost bit, but....

 It wasn't so bad.

 He tasted of the mints he liked to chew on, slightly tingly. The tingle
 grew stronger, hot, demanding. She tried to push his tongue out with her
 own, and he sucked on it, slipping his lips along it. He forced his
 tongue back in her mouth, and she did the same to him, sucking on it,
 playing with it.

 His hands slipped to her shoulders and down her sides. It tickled, and
 she drew back, laughing.

 "Where you going, girl? Get back here!"

 His hands slipped under her tee shirt and grabbed at her ribs. She
 shrieked in laughter, struggled away...

 ...And his hands moved on up, peeling her out of the tee until it was
 bunched up under her pits.

 "Stop! Stop it! What are you...?"

 "Put your arms up! Do it now, or get another spanking!"

 His face was fierce, but not angry. Her arms went up and the shirt was
 gone.

 When his fingers slipped into the tops of her bra cups, she moaned, then
 gasped as he ripped the ribbon between them apart.

 He stared at her chest. At her breasts! He was staring at her titties!
 She looked down. Her nippies were standing out, hard. She'd never seen
 them like that. Only a month ago, all she'd had were little cones under
 them, but now they were starting to swell out into mounds. Still, they
 were so tiny! He'd hate them! He'd tease! She couldn't bear his teasing,
 and covered her self with her hands.

 "Please..." She didn't know what she was pleading for.

 He grabbed her wrists and pulled them away.

 "Those are mine now. Don't ever hide them from me again, hear me?"

 Was she nodding?

 An arm went behind her waist, bracing her. He leaned forward and kissed
 one, then the other, licking and sucking the nipples. She gasped and
 struggled, but mostly ended up pressing herself into his mouth. Her arms
 went around his neck.

 He broke free.

 "You're mouth is mine, your tongue is mine, your tits are mine. You'll
 give them to me whenever I say."

 He kissed them again, fondled the nipples.

 He joggled her off his knee, letting her balance herself with a hand on
 his shoulder.

 His hands went down to her waist again, fingers petting the fuzz on
 either side of...of her....

 "St...Sto..."

 He shook his head.

 "You know what else is mine?"

 "Please, please no."

 "The 'please' is good. I like 'please'. The 'no' is fun, too. Say it all
 you want."

 The heel of his palm pressed against her crotch. He stood, dragging his
 hand across her belly, finally catching a nipple between two knuckles.

 "Now get my pants down. Come on, come on. Or do I need to rip this off?"

 Awkward fingers undid his belt, the button, the zipper, and his trousers
 slipped to his feet. He kicked them away.

 He pressed down on her shoulders.

 "Kneel before thy lord and master." Theatrically. Then, "Or at least
 your baby sitter." She looked up, and he was smiling crookedly. "Go
 ahead, baby girl. Kneel down, and take my shorts off. Mr. Bouncy Cock
 wants to come out and play."

 Her hands shook as she pulled down. The waistband snagged on his...his
 cock, but she didn't notice in time and yanked against the snag.

 He pinched the nipple in warning.

 "That was annoying. Don't do it again."

 He let go, and she was staring at a bobbing, weaving snake.

 Hands in hair again. She should have hated it, but it was...it made her
 heart beat faster, and was somehow steadying. She didn't want him to let
 go, ever.

 "What is that, baby girl?"

 "It's a penis...Ow!"

 "It's a cock, baby girl. Say cock."

 "C..cock." She almost choked.

 "Say it again."

 "Cock."

 "Whose cock?"

 "You...your cock."

 "You don't have a cock, because you're just a girl. What do you have
 instead?"

 "A vag...OW!"

 "Guess again."

 "A...puss...pussy?"

 "A pussy, yeah, but... Let's call it a cunt until it learns to be more
 polite. You have a cunt. Say 'cunt'."

 "I have..."

 He flicked her lips with a forefinger.

 "Say 'cunt'"

 "Cunt"

 "Again. Louder."

 "Cunt!"

 She could feel the tears gather in her eyes. He kept making her mad,
 then letting her like him, then making her feel so...weak. When did he
 turn so mean? Why had she stopped fighting?

 "And whose is it? Who does that cunt belong to?"

 She was getting the hang of things, though.

 "You? It's your cunt?"

 He patted her cheek. "What part of you do I want to play with now?"

 "My..." A warning finger against her lips. "Your cunt." She couldn't
 look up at him, but whispered into his cock like a microphone.

 "My cunt. And who are you now?"

 "Your gir..." Then she got it. "Your cunt. I'm your cunt."

 She was ashamed. But she also felt the wet between her thighs.

 "Head of the class. Very good. My sweet, obedient, playful red headed
 cunt girl. Now. Tracy. Look at me. Look up."

 He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face towards his.

 "You are my cunt, Tracy, my sexy good little cunt, and I'm very proud of
 you. You learn quickly. Are you ready to play?"

 She nodded and smiled at the praise. A little voice in the back of her
 head was screaming, No! Shit no! Sod off you jerk!

 But it was hard to hear over the blood pounding in her head.

 "Put your fingers on my cunt for me...Good. Slide them around. Are you
 nice and wet, baby cunt? Say it."

 "Your cunt is nice and wet?"

 "Slip your fingers inside."

 "I...I can't. It'll hurt."

 "Still sealed? Oh, that's good. That's very good! That's a good little
 cunt, saving herself for me."

 Again, a rush of pleasure and shame at his words. Not for you! said the
 voice. For a real boyfriend!

 "Smell your fingers. Isn't that a lovely, lovely smell? Now lick them.
 Ah, ah! Good little cunts do what they're told! Bad little cunts who
 make ugly faces at their own juices get sent to their rooms without
 dinner."

 She licked her fingers. Salt, something like snot...but she liked it.
 She liked the smell and taste of her...his...her cunt. It was hers, she
 thought fiercely, I'm just letting him...letting him....

 Letting him borrow it? Really? said the little voice. Why are you doing
 that?

 Because I'm his.

 Oh, gods, why did her cunt feel so empty?

 "Now, little cunt, Mr. Cock wants a kiss. Give him a kiss."

 She pecked the end of it, not seeing until too late the little drop of
 clear fluid. She hoped it wasn't pee. She licked her lips. Tasteless.

 "Ooh, you liked that? Good. Lick the nice cock, all over, get it good
 and wet."

 Thank god for an inattentive mother and internet porn, disgusting though
 it was. She knew what to do, licked up and down the shaft, staying away
 from the tip until very last, then taking it between her lips and giving
 it a big swirl that made him groan. Ooh, she liked hearing that. She did
 it again, and not only did he groan, his knees wobbled.

 See, she told the voice. I am in control. No matter what he says, I can
 make him weak too.

 The voice snorted.

 "Enough. Enough for now." His voice was thick and strangled.

 He lifted her onto the bed, laying her on her back with her butt right
 at the edge.

 "Show me my cunt."

 He pried at her knees and she opened for him.

 He stared down at his prize possession, crooning. He knelt, and this
 time she was the one pulling him in by his hair.

 He licked up one side and down the other. His tongue slipped in a little
 at the bottom and licked up, almost touching a spot of unbearable
 tenderness and need she didn't know she had. Then down again, poking in
 at the bottom, testing the fold of skin there, stretching the hole.

 "Ow. Ow!"

 "Shh, easy there, baby cunt. Shh. You have such a tasty cunt."

 Ha! So it WAS hers!

 Yours as long as you give it to him when he tells you to, said the
 voice.

 "But now it's time for my dick and your cunt to get to know each other."

 He opened the night stand drawer and took out a little squeeze bottle.
 Ah. The massage oil from her Mom's physical therapist.

 "This first time, you need to be really, really slick. Spit's not
 enough."

 He squirted it all over his cock, and gave himself a single stroke to
 spread it. Then he put the nozzle to her cunt; when he squeezed, the
 cool oil flooded inside her until it squooshed out. He smeared his hand
 up and down and all around, making sure there was no dry tissue.

 "Please...Please..."

 "What, little cunt? What does my darling little cunt want? This?"

 He waggled his cock, laid it on her belly. It looked huge.

 He grinned at her expression. "My sweet beautiful cunt, it'll be okay.
 Babies come out of cunts; in comparison, this is, though it wounds my
 pride to say it, nothing. Pretty average, in fact. But I'm surprised you
 haven't torn your seal open already, active as you are. That means it's
 awfully sturdy, and it's going to hurt the first time. I'm sorry, I
 really am."

 He was rubbing her swelling nether lips. They were hot and blushing,
 along with her face, even her chest.

 "Ready, little cunt?"

 She shook her head, afraid again. "No. Wait. Just let me..." She propped
 herself up on her elbows. "No, I don't I want...."

 He was lifting her knees, lining it up with his cock. He pressed against
 her opening, working the cock into her cleft, slipping in and out a bit
 to check the lube. Her knees drew up and together, trying to block him
 out. She squeaked and gasped as the pressure stretched her hymen.

 He stopped, took a deep breath.

 So did she, but to scream, "NO! NO! STOP! DON'T YOU..."

 He surged forward while pulling her to him by her knees. She shrieked as
 his cock ripped her open. Her cunt walls cramped against him. He pulled
 out and pushed in, slowly, gently, spreading lube, blood, and juices.

 "It hurts, it hurts, please take it out. Please don't...." He shoved all
 the way in again and she shushed, unable to speak for a moment.

 "Very nice, little cunt. Very tight. Very slick. You are the best little
 cunt in all the world, and you and your cunt are mine. Isn't that
 right?"

 "I'm...I'm your good little cunt. But please, please take it out. Oh, oh
 god. Oh god."

 He was thrusting again. She could feel the fraying edges of her hymen
 pull and scrape like a picked-at hangnail, but soon that faded, and all
 she could feel was his cock, filling her up where she had been so, so
 empty.

 She realized that it wasn't just his cock filling her up.

 "I have to pee. Please let me pee."

 He didn't stop, just pushed and pulled, harder and harder. Her knees
 went around him, or tried to, and she pressed her hands against his
 chest.

 The sensation of having to pee grew and mutated. She was making a
 strange, gasping cry at each thrust.

 His breath was getting hard and fierce, his hips stretching her crotch
 wide. Then he drew back, almost all the way out, paused and slammed in,
 his whole body rigid. He made tiny, short little thrusts, grunting, and
 she felt a hot jet inside her, and that was all she needed to go over.
 She thrashed and screamed, as his cum sprayed up her spine and into her
 brain. Her cunt gripped his cock until she peaked and slowly let go.

 The giant plug in her cunt softened, just enough to give her some
 relief. He pulled out, letting her knees drop. Her hips ached deep
 inside from being stretched so far apart.

 Someone was chanting to themselves, a quiet singsong.

 "My cunt, my cunt, my cunt loves your cock. Please put your cock in me
 again. Please don't stop. Fuck me, please fuck me, fuck my cunt fuck my
 cunt fuck my cunt...."

 "Oh, my little honey pot, I will be happy to, but you have a chore to do
 first. Come on, sit up."

 Once again she was staring at his cock, worshipping it almost. She
 wanted it back inside her so badly....

 "Lick my cock clean, messy little girl. Lick your blood and juices off."

 Anything to take it back inside herself. She fell to, tongue lapping up
 the blood and cunt juice and his cum. It all ran together, slick and
 salty, and metallic from her blood. It stiffened again, and she licked
 the tip, kissing it with open lips, slurping it in and popping it out.
 She wished she could swallow it whole, but her mouth wouldn't open far
 enough.

 Unconsciously, her hand slipped back between her legs. She rubbed
 herself, letting a finger go inside. He put his hands on her head and
 pushed back.

 "Ah ah ah!" She froze. "Did I give you permission to touch that cunt?"

 "'Oh. 'Orry." His cock blocked her confession and contrition.

 "No I did not. In the future, do not touch the bad cunt unless I say so,
 but since this is your first time, natural mistake. Carry on."

 She licked and sucked and stroked his cock with one hand, worked her
 cunt with the other. Not very hard, not very deep, just enough to keep
 it in play.

 His cock pulsed under her hand, against her lips. "Sweet baby, I am
 going to fuck your mouth cunt now. I'm going to squirt. Don't choke,
 don't swallow. Here I come here I come...."

 She put her tongue against the roof of her mouth, a trick she'd learned
 from him when catching grapes. His hands clenched in her hair, and he
 tried to push into her mouth; she gaped, trying not to scrape her teeth
 on his cock, and pushed against his root, thumbs on his sack as a
 warning.

 He squirted again, not as hard as he had in her cunt.

 Again, thank online porn: she pulled back just as he squirted his last
 dribble onto her face, then opened her mouth for him.

 "Baby cunt, baby cunt, show me my cum. Your lips are all bloody, your
 clit needs my thumb. Good girl. Oh, such a good girl. OK, swallow."

 She swallowed, then opened again to show her empty mouth. He wiped the
 last few dribbles from her face with his fingers, and let her lick them
 clean.

 "Back on the bed. Open your legs, and I'll take care of you."

 This time he knelt before her, and she pulled his head into her by his
 hair.

 He lapped the blood and juice from her thighs, darting in now and again
 here and there on her cunt, never slipping inside, but working towards
 the cleft. He began massaging the little hump above the slit, pressing
 down onto her bladder. It really was getting full, with a different
 feeling than she'd had earlier, just as he'd started fucking her, but it
 only added to her urgency. She pressed his hand into her belly with her
 own.

 Oh, she wished she had something to kiss. She wished he could lick her
 nipples. At least he was getting the right spot on her belly, and she
 began working her little booby, while biting her lip.

 Then he stopped and moved to stand up.

 "OK, that oughta be clean enough to keep your jeans from staining. Let's
 get dressed for dinner."

 "YOU FAG! YOU SHITSUCKER! YOU DON'T -"GAAHH!"

 He'd gripped her folds right at the head of her clitty and grinned down
 at her.

 "Ah ah ah. Good little cunts are happy with what they get. And they know
 the magic word."

 "You shit...!"

 He pinched again, but not so hard.

 "'Shit' is not the magic word, no. Use your your inside voice, little girl. Tell
 me what you want."

 "Lick. I want...Please," and he immediately released her clit and
 lightly rubbed the offended area, "Please lick my, lick your cunt.
 Please keep licking your little girl's cunt. She's not...she's not
 finished. Oh, please, please, don't stop."

 She was pulling at his hand.

 "That's my good girl. I'd be happy to lick the good little girl into a
 nice bubbling puddle of goo, if she thinks dinner can wait..."

 She pushed his head into her pussy.

 "Lick now. Please. Talk later. Oh, god that feels good."

 His fingers pressed and rubbed along the shaft of her clit, just missing
 the head, which was too tender and hot to touch anyway. His tongue dived
 into her cleft, poking and stroking. Was that...was he licking her
 pee-hole? Oh, that felt weird. She was going to piss in his face! Then
 his tongue descended into her cunt hole, and popped out again. Over and
 over. Up and down, in and out. Just as she started to feel empty again,
 he put a finger in and began rubbing the inside of her hole, right
 behind the pee spot. She arched her hips to meet him. His tongue started
 slipping on either of her clit, while he worked another finger into her
 hole. She wanted his dick in there, and almost spoke, but remembered
 just in time, and concentrated on what she was feeling.

 It was different from fucking, wider somehow, if not as deep, more
 complex, more going on.

 Then his tongue attacked her clit directly, and his fingers worked
 around inside her cunt. A third finger. Jeezus, was he going to put his
 whole fist in? She decided she didn't care. As he licked her cleft above
 his fingers, his thumb pressed at her asshole, which sent her completely
 off the charts, and in a moment, she was screaming and thrashing,
 clawing at his shoulders, trying to twist away, but he had his arms
 around her legs, trapping her.

 The orgasm was not as intense as the first one, but lasted longer,
 bumping her up over and over. Finally, she was exhausted. She patted his
 head, weak as a kitten. He didn't stop right away, but let her slowly
 wind down.

 "Now can we eat? Man's gotta eat after a job o' work like that."

 "Only if I don't have to shower and dress and you'll carry me
 everywhere. On your shoulders."

 "You have to shower, because you reek of sex, and others may be offended
 that they weren't invited, but I'll help with that. You have to dress,
 because otherwise people would point and want to take pictures. But, my
 sweet baby, my girly girl, my sexy little tart, I will carry you on my
 shoulders to the car and at the restaurant, and in my arms to the shower
 and to bed. OK?"

 She reached up to put her arms around his neck. He lifted her up, her
 legs around his waist, and kissed her.

 "Now tell me, Trace. Who has the dick?"

 She laughed. "You do." And kissed his nose.

 "Who has the cunt?"

 "I do." It glowed warmly between her legs, and she kissed him on the
 mouth.

 "And who can turn who over his lap anytime she needs her butt whipped?

 "You're the dick and I'm the cunt. Can we leave it at that?"

 It was the best shower she'd ever had. Russ hooked his hands under her
 knees, holding her against his chest while she peed right there in the
 stall, which was oddly thrilling, aside from making her raw cunt sting a
 bit. Then all she had to do was stand there while he washed her. Very
 thoroughly; she flinched and gasped and bit her lip at his intimate
 attentions. She could get used to that, she decided, even though he
 talked to her like she'd heard people talk to horses at the county fair.

 ******

 After they got back from dinner there was a hot, busy night, and a
 languid morning which she spent in various states of undress, practicing
 showing herself to him in peeks and hints. They went shopping in the
 afternoon, but he wouldn't let her wear panties, so he could finger her
 now and again. Her cunny (she'd been promoted to cunny for good
 behavior) pressed against the back of his neck when she rode horsie. At
 lunch she had to skooch her skirt up so her bare bottom was on the seat
 of the booth. Shopping was followed by dinner at his parents' house,
 where she was terrified that one of his smaller siblings would look up
 her dress, and a night in his old bedroom while he slept on the couch,
 as is traditional in such circumstances, even though everybody knows.
 Then it was Friday morning with fresh eggs and homemade sausage and
 scratch biscuits and heavily seasoned gravy, plus sides of loud talk and
 laughter.

 In the afternoon, back at her house, her mother had called from the
 airport to say she'd be home in a couple of hours, after checking in at
 the office. It was a fair warning. Russ massaged her, washed her,
 brushed her hair. He helped her into the lingerie, dress, stockings and
 shoes he'd bought for her. He even helped her put on a touch of mascara,
 a stroke of eye shadow, and a gloss of cherry lipstick, which was good
 because she'd never learned how. ("Where did YOU learn to do this?"
 she'd asked. "You put on makeup for YOUR boyfriend?" He didn't blink.
 "You should see the dress." And when the voice asked, where did he learn
 to...? she silenced it with, At least one of us knew what we were
 doing.) Around her neck, he put a necklace her Gran had given her for
 her birthday the summer he'd left, and on her head, a wide brimmed hat
 from his sister with flowers and long flowing ribbons that went with her
 dress. She couldn't stop looking at herself in the mirror, she was
 prettier than she'd ever been. She resolved to stop wearing jeans and to
 let her hair grow out.

 They stood on the side porch, seeing the rooster tail come up the road,
 watching the last few minutes of their time alone together blow away in
 a light, cool breeze.

 "Tracy?"

 "Hm?" She held his hand.

 "Tracy, I'm going to have to go back to the Academy tomorrow morning."

 "Awww..."

 He gave her hand a warning squeeze.

 "I'm serious. Listen now."

 He turned her towards him, lifted her chin, so he could see under her
 hat, and put his hands on her shoulders.

 "I'm going away, but, BUT, I'll be back more often now. Your Mom and my
 parents are sorry they sent me away, they didn't understand, but what's
 done is done, they know better now, and I want to finish at the Academy.
 I'll be here for a week at summer vacation, then I need to go back to my
 job there to help pay for...for everything."

 A great burden daunted him for a moment, and somehow, she was included.
 She laid her hand on his, some deep emotion welling forth from her to
 bear him up. He smiled and straightened.

 "And while I'm gone, I want you to behave. You take care of your Mom,
 you clean house, learn to cook, help in the garden, whatever. You study;
 your last report card sucked. A C minus in English. Ds in math and
 science. What the hell? I'm telling your Mom to send me your assignments
 and tests from now on, so I can make fun of you when you're pretending
 to be an idiot to get out of homework. You're a big girl. You shouldn't
 need me to tell you every little thing, keep you out of trouble, like I
 did when you were five and you thought you could fly by holding a couple
 of chickens by the legs." He'd gotten under her right at the last
 instant and was rewarded with a black eye from her heel and an hour of
 her outrage over him having ruined her science. "And I can't always be
 here. That's the guys' job, to go off and leave the women to keep the
 important things, the life things, from falling apart. I need you to be
 strong and smart and good when I can't be here. Make me proud, OK? I
 know you need to be a bad girl sometimes, I do, but your Mom can't
 handle it. You hold the bad girl in, and wait until I get back to sass
 and fight and skin your knees and cuss. Because I'm the dick, and you're
 the cunt, and I can turn you over my knee and tan your hide when you
 need it, then fuck you silly to make up for it.

 She giggled.

 Her Mom pulled into the driveway, and started the slow process of
 getting out of the car with her braces and crutches. They are forbidden
 to help with that.

 "But Trace?"

 He gripped her shoulders so hard it hurt, and his face was deadly grim.

 "If your Mom ever again calls me at one o'clock in the morning, telling
 me that her little girl, whom she loves more than life itself, is being
 a rotten bitch to her and is breaking her heart, I will throw away
 everything I have of you, delete you from my contacts, and choose
 another girl to fuck, there being, as my Dad says, plenty of girls on
 the girl tree, and you will never, ever see or hear from me again. Is
 that clear?"

 He didn't wait for an answer, just pulled her to his side so her Mom
 could see them together, and waved.

 Just as her Mom got within hearing distance, he added loudly, "And you
 should probably start baby sitting, too. You know, for practice."

 And then her Mom was hugging her, happy to see her daughter being her
 daughter again.

 ***

 Somewhere, somewhen, oh best belove-ed, there is a little girl standing
 on her parents' bed, examining the four pictures hung over the new
 headboard. Mommy had spent the winter carving it and the matching
 frames, except for a tiny, somewhat uneven flower that Nicole had carved
 herself. The whole shebang had been installed with great ceremony just
 this afternoon. The pictures are arranged in a triangle with another one
 in the middle.

 At five years old, the little girl, Nicole, is a skeptic to her bones.

 For instance, she is suspicious that Daddy does not spank Mommy as hard
 as Mommy spanks her, because even if Mommy is upset with Daddy when he
 puts her over his lap, she's always laughing when he's done, and Nicole
 never feels like laughing when her butt hurts like that. She certainly
 doesn't feel like smooching her torturer.

 She also suspects that Daddy sometimes does not tell the exact truth.
 Spaghetti does not grow on trees. Fish do not crawl out of the water to
 pee so they don't have to swim in it. The first airplane was not powered
 by a giant rubber band. Still, she has had to admit, after visiting
 Gramma and Grampa's farm, that milk really does come from cows' unders
 and eggs from chicken butts. Daddy can be tricky.

 In the current case, three of the pictures she now studies so intently
 show Daddy changing diapers. The infants are her sister Nancy, whom
 everyone calls Lil for some reason, and who is still having her diapers
 changed; her stupid kid brother Glenn, who is showing an alarming
 tendency to not obey her orders; and a third baby with a retarded
 expression who cannot possibly be Nicole herself because Nicole is
 certain she never wore diapers and had to have them changed. She is, and
 has always been, far too dignified for such nonsense.

 But what's really wound her turbines up, as Daddy says, is the
 impossible story that the middle picture, of a little boy kneeling on
 the floor over a baby girl, with a disgusted look on his face because
 she's peeing at him, is really Daddy changing Mommy's diaper. Some day,
 she mutters darkly to herself, some day the truth will out. Gramma will
 know, and Gramma never lies.

 Then Mommy calls, and Nicole hops off the bed and pads away to macaroni
 and cheese.

 ************

 v04 r01
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