"Sure, I'm available. What do you have?"

"Well ..." she said hesitatingly, "it's not what you're used to ..."

"What do you mean?" he answered.

"It falls outside my usual genre. It's normally something I'd never dream of doing, but ..."

"Angela," he said impatiently, "Stop beating around the bush! This isn't like you."

The woman was silent for a moment before saying, tentatively,

"Okay ... listen; it involves working with ... a younger actress."

"All right," he answered cautiously, "but how young?"

Though the woman remained silent for the briefest of moments, that interlude was enough to tell him what he wanted to know.

"No!" he said emphatically and with a strong note of irritation in his voice. "I don't get involved with that sort of thing! You know that! Why did you even ask me? You, of all people!"

"I would never have asked you if this weren't so important."

"What do you mean 'important'?" he asked, angrily. "What could be so important about this, that I should for one minute consider it?"

She sounded desperate and resigned when she said, "It's literally a matter of life and death ... I mean that." Before he could say anything else, she said, "And I cannot get just anybody. This requires someone with not only tact and discretion but with ... well ... gentleness and caring."

"What?! What do you mean?" He was now more puzzled than annoyed. He trusted Angela and her crew. She did films that were tasteful and respectful. Most of them could hardly be called pornography, so restrained and so romantic were they. She truly specialized in erotica and all the serious aesthetic connotations that went with it. If it were anyone else, he'd have hung up the phone long before reaching this point in the conversation.

"In this situation, I can't get the usual people that do this. I wouldn't go near them no matter how desperate I got; you know that about me, surely."

"Yes, I do know that about you. So, 'why?' Just tell me why. I'm listening."

"It's because of something Marcus has done. He's gotten into trouble with some very bad people ..."

"Fuck him! He's no fucking good. I don't care if he is your son. He's a lowlife and a criminal."

"Michael ... I can't turn my back on him. I just can't. I can't give up on him and I can't let him ..."

Michael was silent. He knew from her tone how bad it was. She didn't have to spell it all the way out for him. This was why she was so desperate.

"All right; I know you can't let him ... go down. But after this you'll have to do something before he destroys you. Assuming of course that you survive this," he added.

"It's not anything for distribution. It's for a single client with enough muscle to ... well ... I think you know what I mean. It's a one-time thing. I know it's really bad but that's why I called you. I need your help. "Michael ... Michael I need you to do this for me. Please. I won't ever ask anything of you again. I just need this."

"Oh, Angela; this is so reprehensible. If it were anyone else ..."

"So, Michael; will you do it? Just this once?"

He didn't answer right away. Angela filled the silence.

"All right, don't commit right now but at least come to talk to me about it."

Against his better judgment he said, with a sigh, "All right; I'll come talk to you. Where do you want to meet?"

"Come to my home this evening if you're free ..."

"I am."

" ... around 8:00, if that's okay."

"Okay; I'll see you around eight," he said unhappily and turned off his phone.

Twenty-eight year old Michael Barnum's "day job" was as a fitness consultant and personal trainer. On his off time, he performed in erotic films and modeled for erotic photo shoots under the name "Derek Long." When younger he had worked for a number of companies in the Valley but now worked almost exclusively for Angela Rocque. She specialized in erotica for women and couples.

Although not considered true "porn" by hardcore industry insiders, she nonetheless garnered respect for having built a reputable and successful business. For Angela, staying true to herself meant that what she did had to be an expression of the values and aims she held most dear: respect for both men and women and the centrality of sex to the human experience. It was those principles that attracted Michael to her production company.

Michael had been an athlete in high school. In college, though, he eschewed athletic participation in favor of general fitness and the challenges of competing against himself. He was a shade over 6' tall with sandy-colored hair, a light complexion, and model-handsome features. In fact the sportswear modeling he did while in school for local department stores led him, ultimately, to erotic modeling and then to films. He was "chiseled," looking every inch the fitness professional that he was. His normally lop-sided grin and easy-going manner made him easily approachable and very likeable.

As an erotic film actor, Michael had a reputation for reliability and stylishness in his performances. He prepared meticulously, paying so much attention to detail that he was at times like a second director on the set. He had never challenged the director's authority but rather acted as intermediary when necessary between uncertain, skittish young actresses and directors other than Angela for whom porn was like turning out widgets. There had been little emotion involved except for the calculation of profit and loss, which they held dear. Michael helped that to happen smoothly and professionally. That was why Angela's request so irked him. It violated not only his professional standards but also his sense of decency. He also knew that she wouldn't have asked him if it were not a matter of life and death, literally.

Angela's son, Marcus, had always run with a bad crowd. Difficult as a child, he became almost ungovernable as a youth, especially once he found out what his mother did for a living. He thought nothing of blackmailing her emotionally. A single parent, Angela felt wholly responsible for how he turned out.

Parenthood! Michael thought to himself; I'm glad I don't have any kids.

Now it seemed that Marcus had fallen foul of some pretty tough characters, likely drug people. On top of everything else, Michael worried that this might not be the "one shot deal" that Angela thought it would be and then back to normal. She had to know that she would be changed after this, tainted even, whether she could admit it to Michael or not. How his life would change, he did not wish to contemplate.

Angela went to the door only after peering cautiously through the living room curtains.

"Michael," she said, greeting her friend and colleague. "Thank you for coming over."

She looks completely frazzled, Michael thought. She looks crushed by this business. Angela was in her early forties. She was a tall 5' 7" and weighed about 160 lbs. She had generous breasts and long blonde hair. Her face was pretty with full cheeks tapering to a slightly pointed chin and a small, dainty mouth.

Angela had been a film student at UCLA when she took a job doing lighting and sound for an erotic film company in the Valley. She hadn't considered porn as a focus when she took the temporary job. She was a student and needed money. After being around the productions for a while she thought they could have been done better. When nearing graduation, Angela Kwiatkowski, her maiden name, read an assessment of the pornographic films market and decided, boldly, to go in that direction.

This evening Angela was dressed in a light blue peasant smock embroidered in red, green, and gold arabesques and loose fitting jeans. There were dark circles under her normally pretty eyes and it looked to Michael as if she hadn't slept in a while.

"What can I get you to drink?" she said to him cheerily, which they both knew was false.

"Nothing; just tell me what you need me to do and why," he said soberly.

The strain of the last few days finally telling, Angela's face fell and tears started running down her cheeks. Coming immediately to the point, she said, after wiping her eyes, "Michael, Marcus is being held hostage by a drug lord in Mexico. I can't go to the police ... they have no jurisdiction and no proof. Hell, they're likely to say he deserves whatever he gets."

She began to cry again. Michael gave her a moment to compose herself. She resumed her explanation.

"The condition of his release is that I make a film for this drug person. The film must show ... oh, God ... explicit sex between a man and a ... girl."

Not at all surprised as he expected this, Michael remained silent, impassive.

"I was told that it only had to be one scene lasting no more than 30 minutes. There was also a list of required acts, as you might expect. But nothing that involved injuring the girl," Angela said, and then covered her face with her hands. "I can't believe I have to do this!" she said in anguish.

Although Michael understood how hard this was for her, he had, he thought, surprisingly little sympathy to offer.

"Angela," he said rather coldly, "let's have the details, please."

"I'm sorry," she said. "Yes, well, we'll film next Saturday starting in the morning around 9:00. It shouldn't take too long. Are you going to be available?"

"Yes, I'll make myself available. I have just one commitment that afternoon but it's easy enough to re-schedule."

"Thank you ... Michael, I ..."

He held up his hand to stop her. "I will help you, Angela, but if you do not do something about your son immediately after this is over, I will never speak to you again."

Angela dropped her head. She wouldn't fight with Michael or try to justify herself. This was a problem of her own making. Michael quickly moved on to inquire about the details of this sordid affair.

"Do you know the girl? How old is she? Is she ... experienced?"

"I haven't met her. The mother called me. She said the girl's never done anything on video though she assures me that she is not a virgin."

Michael looked at her. "The mother?"

Angela said, "At least I think it was her mother; I didn't ask."

Michael nodded his head and arched his eyebrows to let her know that he wouldn't have asked either.

"How old is she?" Michael repeated, knowing that Angela, ashamed, had avoided answering his question.

Angela looked at Michael in a way that pleaded for sympathy. Seeing none in his eyes, and looking absolutely stricken, she said quietly, "She's ten years old."

Michael wanted to scream, "Ten years old?! Are you fucking kidding me?!" Instead, he said as evenly and controlled as he could, "I was expecting at least a young teenager or maybe a twelve year old at worst."

"Michael, they told me which girl to use. Apparently the mother is also in trouble with them." She looked down at the table. They sat in silence, neither knowing what to say at that moment.

"All right," Michael said finally, "I'll need an hour with her alone before we shoot. Give me a list of what is expected."

Angela got up from the table and took a sheet of paper from a folder on the kitchen counter. She handed it to Michael. He looked at cursorily.

"I'll have to coach her through this," he said as he folded and pocketed the paper. "What's her name?"

"Brittany," Angela answered. She continued, "That's why I wanted you. I knew you would be gentle and careful with her."

He said nothing but only stared at her.

"I want her to be safe. I care what happens to her," she insisted. "Please ..."

Michael took her hand. Despite his repugnance, he couldn't be cruel to Angela.

"I'll do my best with her, to help her as much as I can," he said gently. "I know you hate this as much as I do."

At this, what little reserve Angela possessed deserted her completely and she began to cry.

Michael stood up, lightly touched Angela's shoulder, and let himself out.

After he had gone, Angela lifted her head and said aloud, "I don't care if I have to send that boy to jail. I've done more than anyone should."

Larissa Tomorova had gone to Moscow as a teen ager. Leaving her alcoholic mother to the chaos and despair of post-Soviet Tula, a city north of the capital, she attached herself at 15 to a figure in the Russian mafia. She stayed his mistress for a year, until he tired of her, after which he pimped her around Moscow for three years. Beautiful, slim, and blonde, Larissa was very popular. She was also intelligent and shrewd. Through a client who was smitten with her, she managed to get work in the illicit opium trade as a special courier to the poppy field managers in Central Asia. Having done notably good work in that notoriously hazardous and unpleasant job, Larissa earned for herself an "assignment" to America at the age of 25.

Her handlers gave her a month's intensive language training to improve on the little bit of English she already spoke and set her up in Los Angeles to assist their effort to acquire a share of the illegal drug trade going to the U.S. and Canada from South America. She had generally been successful in conducting the delicate negotiations as well as the money transfers between the drugs cartels and her bosses in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn.

The all-out war that had broken out lately between the cartels, however, had thrown Larissa's operation into jeopardy. Through no fault of her own, she made a misstep and now was under threat from one of the cartels. They had kidnapped one of her main contacts, a Mexican woman, and killed another. She let the people in Brooklyn know the situation. They would think about it, decide, and then inform her.

Then, of course, there was the girl.

Larissa had inherited her from another member of the Russian mafia in Los Angeles. She had been taken away from her drug-addicted mother as a small child and then lost within, and ultimately erased from, the California foster care system. (One of the mafia's computer hackers had taken care of that. The girl now, at the age of ten, no longer officially existed.) Whenever a female child was needed for cover, etc., the little girl was pressed into service.

Larissa took an interest in her and did her best to teach her schoolwork in the apartment they shared. She was a bright child. Introverted, she spent almost all of her time reading. Since she was dependent upon Larissa, the girl was generally cooperative but occasionally stubborn. She refused, for example, to accept the name they had given her. Larissa compromised by requiring only that when in public did she need to answer to "Brittany."

Now this Mexican drug cartel was demanding that the little girl "star" in a pornographic film. It was an unfortunate truth that the people who "owned" her before Larissa had abused her sexually. The girl had been raped at the age of eight and used off and on for sexual gratification. Larissa had put a stop to that but now she had to betray the girl's trust and expose her to the loathsome indignity that the cartel demanded in return for Marisol's life and their own. They took pleasure in tormenting people gratuitously, the pigs! Larissa thought to herself. She resigned herself to informing the poor little girl that evening about what she would have to endure.

Michael set about preparing for Saturday's filming. He had some stage make-up in his possession that he intended to use to cover up the birth mark on his left leg. He did not intend that anyone know that he was the rapist in the film (that was how he thought of the task before him). He planned to pick out two temporary tattoos to further "disguise" himself. He would insist on wearing the black tie-on mask he had acquired to further obscure his identity.

He also had a variety of lubricants. Goodness knows, he thought, that poor little child will need all the help I can give her. Help? Who was he kidding? Surely not himself, he knew. Still, in this terrible situation he would do his best to make it as easy on her as possible and get it over with fast. What happened to children caught up in "kiddie porn?" It pained him that he didn't know.

Michael intended to use some of the erectile dysfunction pills that just about every stud in the business kept on hand "just in case." He had only resorted to them once in four years. He thought for certain that he would need one for Saturday.

Angela determined that she would have to share the duties of cameraman, lighting assistant, and sound specialist with Michael. She couldn't very well ask any of her crew to participate nor would she contract with someone from the "other side" of the business for whom this was not only commonplace but their raison d'etre. She had been forced to confide in Michael. She hated to have dragged him into this. Their relationship would be in tatters when this was over. She would forever after be shameful in his eyes.

And what of the little girl? Angela thought. How did she get involved in this? How did they have power over her mother or whomever she was? Angela had started her company with the aim of liberating people sexually. Now this affair was making her a part of the world of erotic entertainment at its darkest and most sinister, its thoroughly pornographic and obscene side. She thought bitterly that everything and everyone was for sale in this "free market" society. "Free," indeed; with no restraint and no respect for anything. The only thing she could do for the child was to involve Michael, a decent person, who would harm her less than others. She thought she might never look at herself in the mirror ever again.

Michael arrived early at Angela's house to help her set up the master bedroom with lights and sound equipment. He set up his gear in the guest bedroom next to it. He silently helped Angela with the lighting. He attached the boom microphone and opened up its stand. Angela would have to move it as they filmed. It wasn't going to be much of a production but then the intended audience wasn't very discriminating.

He had used the water-proof make-up to hide his birth mark. He had applied the two temporary tattoos. Angela told him she would pixelate his face so there was no need for a mask.

That Saturday morning, while driving to the address that Angela had given her, Larissa reflected on how the situation had suddenly changed. Boris in Brooklyn had told her the decision had been made to move her out of the country, so compromised was her position. The foray into the southern California-northern Mexico drug market had been a failure. They had decided to simply cut their losses and move on. Because it was no longer necessary to protect her position, Larissa would come back to Moscow on the next available flight and be sent back to the U.S. at a later date.

Although Boris said he would guarantee her safety, he claimed they could do nothing for Marisol being held hostage. Larissa felt she could not abandon her and so told him she would go through with the filming before she left not only for Marisol's sake but the girl's as well.

Larissa would have to abandon the little girl. Boris said someone would be detailed to take care of her but she didn't believe him. They might even kill her, given what she knew and had seen. The only hope for her would be the woman filmmaker. Larissa believed, or at least wanted to believe, that Angela would see that she was cared for once the filming was over. It was a gamble but one that Larissa felt she must take, paradoxically, for the child's safety.

Little "Brittany" was alarmed when Larissa told her what she needed to do. Frightened, she had asked Larissa if she really had to do it. Larissa, under terrible strain, told her in no uncertain terms that she had to perform in the film because they were all in danger.

"They are terrible people. They will not hesitate to kill us both. I'm sorry for this, child. You know I never wanted anyone to hurt you again. I cannot prevent this; I'm sorry." Feeling pity for the girl, Larissa held her close and rocked her.

Though anxious, the girl calmed when she understood there was no other way. She was helpless in this situation. Larissa could no longer protect her. No one could protect her. Was this what life was like, the child wondered? What would become of her? Would she ever be safe or happy?

Michael had prepared himself to instruct the little girl. He hoped she would be cooperative. If she wasn't, he certainly wasn't going to force her; he drew the line there. In a moment of defiance, disgust, and some bravado, he decided that if she refused, he would walk away and take her with him.

That thought had surprised him. Then he thought if that remote possibility actually occurred, what would he do with her? Take her to the state's Child Protective Services? They would ask how he came to be responsible for her. If that happened, what could he possibly say? Deflated, he pushed the thought from his mind.

The doorbell rang - they were here. Angela, from the living room called to him, saying it was the girl and her mother. What mother would do this? Unless she and the child had both been threatened too, which was certainly possible? He set the light meter down, stood up and poked his head out the door to see how many people had arrived.

He glimpsed Angela speaking to the woman while at the same time laying a gentle hand on the little girl's shoulder. His view of the child was blocked by Angela's back. The woman looked at the director with a resigned, hopeless expression. Yes, things were becoming clearer to him now. We're all victims, he said to himself. He went back to work on the lighting.

He could hear Angela talking about him as she escorted them down the hallway to the bedroom. As they entered, he stood up and turned. It was then that he saw her.

She stood in front of the blonde woman who stood next to Angela. With a somber expression the girl looked around the bedroom in Angela's home that was to be the "set" for the film. She looked to be a little under five feet tall and slim, small boned, pale skinned, almost delicate. Her fine brunette hair was cut in a modest "page boy" style and parted in the middle. Her eyebrows were thin, as though plucked, and her hazel eyes were big with long lashes. She looked serious, intelligent, and most of all, terribly vulnerable. A sensitive man, the sight of her almost moved Michael to tears.

"Brittany," Angela said, "this is Derek. He'll be ... working with you today." His director friend looked distinctly green to Michael as though she were going to vomit.

"Say hello to the man, Brittany," the woman said in a thick Russian accent and gently stroked her hair. "Be polite, dear."

The little girl stepped forward and offered her hand.

"Hello," she said in a flat monotone.

Michael took her little hand, pressed it gently, and forced a smile as he said, "How do you do, Brittany? It's nice to meet you." He held her hand longer than was necessary, desperate to communicate some little bit of tenderness to her, desperate to let her know that he cared. She, however, was impassive, and he succeeded only in feeling absurd and ashamed.

Angela then introduced Michael to Larissa. "Derek, this is Larissa." He had assumed Brittany's mother would be accompanying her but this woman was not her mother. That was obvious to both Michael and Angela. He couldn't help staring at her before replying, "Hi." Neither of them attempted to shake hands, perhaps because they were both so deeply embarrassed by the situation. They all stood in the room in awkward, uncomfortable silence before Angela spoke.

"Let's leave Derek and Brittany to prepare. Larissa, I want to speak to you in private. Let's go to the living room, shall we?" She let Larissa go first after which she quietly closed the door. Michael could hear only indistinct voices coming from the living room.

Michael turned to the girl and asked her to sit on the bed, which she obediently did. Michael then knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. He said to her,

"Brittany, I know you're frightened. Please, don't be." The girl only looked at him with the same solemn expression. He continued, uncomfortably,

"Do you know what we're going to do here today?" He was perspiring now.

The lovely little girl answered in a soft, untroubled voice, "Yes; you're going to put your penis inside me. And it's going to be in a movie; right?"

It upset Michael to see how matter-of-fact she was about this. He had to put his horror aside for the moment in order to "coach" this child, to limit the damage to be done to her, and perhaps in some small way to let her know that they cared.

"Yes, dear; that's right."

Although he already knew the answer, he nonetheless asked her, "Brittany, have you had a penis inside you before?"

The girl did not speak but only nodded.

"Just once or more than once?"

"More than once."

Oh, God, he thought.

He swallowed hard and asked the question the answer to which he did not want to hear. "Did it hurt, Brittany?"

"Most of the time."

"Oh, Brittany," he said to her as he gently squeezed her hands, "I'm so sorry, dear."

Not knowing what to say, she said nothing. This man was going to hurt her, too. Why did he ask that question? She thought. Why did he want to know?

He surprised her when he said,

"Well, listen, we're going to prepare so that it won't hurt you. There are things we can do to make it better."

She opened her eyes a little wider, leaned forward just the slightest bit, though again only nodded in reply.

"All right, then," he said to her, "here's what we'll do: we'll start by cleaning ourselves and then we'll make you slippery so that things won't hurt. Okay?"

"Okay," she said.

"Now, I want you to go to the bathroom across the hall. Go sit on the toilet and empty yourself front and back the best you can and then wipe yourself. When you're done, come back here and we'll take a quick shower together."

Michael couldn't resist kissing her hands before releasing them. Ignoring the gesture, she bounded off the bed and out the door and into the main bathroom. She closed the door and Michael could hear the plastic seat drop to the porcelain toilet.

He sat down on the end of the bed to wait for her. She should be thinking about pop music stars, going to soccer practice, or meeting her friends to just "hang out," Michael thought morosely. Instead, she's here. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he shook his head sadly. He had to snap out of his funk, though, if he expected to help her through all this.

Angela suddenly appeared in the doorway. She closed the door and sat down next to Michael on the bed.

"Larissa's gone. She said she had to leave," she said quietly.

Michael snapped upright. "What the fuck ..."

Angela shrugged her shoulders while opening her hands palms up. "I ... I don't know. She said she had an appointment and would be back in two hours," she whispered lest the little girl hear through the bathroom door.

Michael was angry.

"Argh! ... The nerve of her. She's not that girl's mother, you know."

Angela nodded her head in agreement.

"I thought the same thing as soon as I saw them. I think that girl has somehow been assigned to her. Now I'm sure she's caught up in this drug business. She probably did something to piss them off and now that poor child will pay the price."

Michael was still scowling.

"Well," he said disgustedly, "maybe it's better without her here. Brittany certainly didn't cling to her like you might have expected. She's a very brave little girl."

Angela nodded her head.

"She is," she answered him. They sat silently, neither one knowing what else to say.

Then they heard a knock on the door.

Angela opened the door to see the little girl standing there. Michael turned to look at her. She looked so sad to him. He smiled at her.

"I think I'm all cleaned out," she reported solemnly. If it had been any other situation, both Michael and Angela would have burst out laughing. Michael instead said,

"That's good, sweetheart. Now we're going to wash ourselves, okay?"

She nodded her head but said nothing.

Angela looked at Michael. "I'll check ... stuff ..." she said as she got up and hurried out of the room. She paused to kiss the girl on the top of her head.

"C'mon, Brittany; let's get into the shower," Michael said.

The girl hesitated.

Looking at her, he thought, what am I saying to this child? I'm treating her as if she does this every day.

"Brittany, please don't feel shy. You and I have to see each other without our clothes. It's all right, honey. Don't be afraid of me; I promise I won't hurt you."

He squatted down in front of her. He took her hands in his and again kissed them. She seemed to relax the slightest bit. She nodded her head.

"Okay, dear; you get undressed and I'll run the water in the shower." Michael smiled at her. The girl just looked at him.

Michael started running the water in the bathroom shower off the master bedroom. He checked to see if there was soap. There was orange blossom scented liquid soap. He hoped she would like it. He found a soft washcloth to use with her.

The girl took off her shoes and socks first. She placed the shoes with the socks stuffed in them side by side on the floor near the end of the bed. Then she took off the dark blue and red-striped rugby-style pullover shirt with the white collar. She next unzipped her khaki pants and pulled them down to her feet. She stepped carefully out of them and picked them up. She folded the shirt and pants and placed them neatly on top of the shoes. Alone in the room, she stood for a moment before removing her white underpants with the little pink teddy bears on them.

Naked now, she sat on the end of the bed awaiting the stranger who was going to wash her. She crossed her arms and hugged them close to her body as she leaned forward in a futile attempt at modesty.

Michael undressed in the bathroom. He had left the door ajar as he prepared the shower. As he stepped around the door to fetch her, it saddened him to see her trying to cover herself.

He put his hand out and said softly, "It's all right, Brittany. Don't be embarrassed."

She uncoiled herself and stood to her full height with her arms at her sides. He took in a quick view of the pretty little girl, conscious of not wanting to be seen to stare at her. She was flat chested, lacking in defined hips, and the slit between her labia was unobscured by pubic hair.

She still had the same somber expression, empty of hope. She walked toward Michael and the sound of the running water behind him. He took her hand gently and helped her through the door and into the shower.

As they both were being splashed, Michael asked her, "Is the water okay? It's not too hot is it?" She answered, "No; it's okay." Indeed, she seemed to like the shower. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the spray.

As he prepared to wash her, Michael was astonished to see her start hopping around in and out of the water with her eyes closed, enjoying the shower just like the little girl that she was, completely unselfconscious. It delighted him to watch her.

"Turn around, Brittany," he said as he knelt down to start soaping her back. He gently washed up and down her back and over her little bottom. She opened her legs for him to reach the insides of her thighs and calves. She put her hand on the wall to balance herself as he washed first her right foot and then her left.

Michael pushed the stream of water to the wall and took the washcloth in hand. He knelt back down and said to her, "I'm going to wash between your legs in the front, now; just put your foot on the edge of the tub."

She did as she was told. He carefully and gently ran the soapy cloth over the smooth, genital fold, being careful not to get any soap inside. He re-directed the stream toward her again.

"Okay, turn around and bend over; I'll rinse you," he said. She turned quickly and bent over exposing her little pussy and asshole as she pulled her cheeks apart. He splashed water until the soap was gone. She turned to face him.

"All right! That looks good!" he said jovially and she smiled at him for the first time as she shook her head in the gentle, light spray.

He proceeded to wash the front of her body and then finally to say, "Now I'll wash your face. Close your eyes!" he said smiling. The girl continued to smile while scrunching up her face and squeezing her lids closed as he applied the soft, soapy cloth. After gently washing her, he quickly rinsed her off, grabbed a hand towel, and wiped the excess water off her face. He impulsively leaned forward and kissed her lips. She smiled broadly but said nothing.

"Now bend over again and I'll wash your behind."

She quickly bent over again, almost comically pulling her little buttocks apart to give him access to her tush. He smiled as he washed around the rim of her little pink anus.

This man really is gentle with me, she thought; he's nice.

Despite the lightheartedness they unexpectedly were sharing, or perhaps because of it, he was now conscious of something he had failed to control. Michael was getting an erection.

Though it had pleased him to touch her lithe little body in ways that he hoped she would take as affectionate and respectful, it surprised him that the sight of her and the feel of her body had that effect. The girl looked right at his hard cock and then at his face but didn't say anything.

Michael turned off the water. He took the large bath towel from the rack and enveloped her in it. She stood slightly hunched over, smiling, and twisting side to side within the towel. He pulled the towel tighter as they smiled at each other. Michael stood up and helped her out of the bathtub. He then turned to step back into the shower, saying to her,

"Okay, I'm going to wash up quickly. You dry off and I'll be out in a second." She nodded her head.

Having finished his quick shower, Michael stepped out of the bathtub in time to see the darling little creature finish drying herself and drop the towel on the floor. He then watched in fascination as she leapt and skipped to the bed. She jumped onto it, rolling around playfully, unaware of Michael's gaze.

Michael stepped back behind the door to finish drying himself. He thought as he toweled off, what an absolutely beautiful little child! And then, almost against his will, his cock started to become hard again. What is wrong with me? he thought. It must be that ED pill.

Having dried himself, Michael walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. The girl was sitting with one leg folded underneath her. Her somber expression gone, she looked at Michael with the suggestion of an impish grin on her face. She seemed not all concerned about her nakedness now.

Michael put a hand gently on her shoulder as he spoke to her.

"Brittany, we have to get down to business. Let's get ready so we can finish this fast, okay?"

"My name is Elizabeth."

Michael, startled by what she said, was speechless. As he stared at her, she continued.

"My name isn't Brittany. It's Elizabeth," she repeated.

Deeply impressed now, Michael thought, these people, whoever they are, tried to erase this child's identity. But she wouldn't let them. Bravo, young lady! he said to himself.

"Elizabeth." Michael spoke her name as much for himself as for her.

"Elizabeth," he said again. "That's such a beautiful name."

She looked at him with a mixture of pride and courage and Michael knew that she now trusted him, at least a little. Their intimacy in the shower had done it. He believed that she knew he wouldn't hurt her.

Now, however, he felt a responsibility for her that he had not felt earlier; something very different from his initial concern. Then she spoke again.

"You said you would make me slippery. So it wouldn't hurt."

Michael now regarded her with something approaching awe. In a subtle way she had gained a measure of control over this situation. Yes, you're going to rape me but I'm going to hold you to your promise to make sure it doesn't hurt.

"Yes," he said, "and we're going to rehearse to make sure it feels all right for you." Elizabeth looked at him and nodded.

"Derek," Angela called anxiously from the hallway, "let me know when you guys are ready."

"Elizabeth, I want to explain everything we're going to do together."

Elizabeth sat close to Michael as he went over a list of sexual acts and positions they would perform together. She said nothing but just listened to him. Michael was embarrassed and uncomfortable in this role. He had to agree, however, with Angela that he would certainly be gentler than anyone else with her.

"I'm sorry to ask you this but do you know what happens to penises when they go in and out of girls ... that some stuff comes out of them that's not pee?" He really didn't know how best to discuss such a subject with a ten year old and so was winging it.

She looked puzzled, initially, and then with a look of awareness said,

"Yes; I remember some white stuff leaked out of me afterward."

The poor little dear! he thought.

"Okay, sweetheart. That's the stuff I have to put on your face at the end."

"Yuck!" she said and wrinkled her nose. "That's silly!"

"I'm sorry, dear; I have to do that. So, no one has ever done that to you before?"

"Uh-uh," she answered.

"Well, we'll have to practice that. Here, hold this towel. I'll be right back."

Michael went into the bathroom and filled a drinking glass with a few inches of water. Sitting back down on the bed in front of her he said,

"I'm going to splash this on your face. You'll have your eyes closed when I put the stuff on you, so close your eyes now and try not to flinch." She dutifully closed her eyes and sat waiting.

He dipped his first three fingers in the glass and flicked them at her face. The girl started and drew back. "Oh!" she said.

Michael laughed as wiped the water from her face; the girl giggled. "All right," he said, "let's try it again." They worked at it until she was able to take the splash without reacting. Michael kissed her forehead and gently squeezed her shoulder.

"Good, girl!" and then, chuckling, added, "It is kind of silly isn't it?" Elizabeth laughed with him.

He paused for a moment and then said, "Elizabeth, my real name is Michael."

She smiled at him but didn't otherwise reply.

He reached into his gym bag and brought out the lubricant and a dildo. He placed a towel on the bed and asked Elizabeth to sit back against the pillows and on top of the towel.

"This is a lubricant," he said as he opened the top and showed her the viscous fluid. "This will make you slippery. What I want you to do is to take some on your two fingers like this ..." Michael squeezed some of the KY jelly onto the first two fingers of the girl's right hand. "... and push it up inside you. Just hold the labia open and slide your fingers in."

The girl looked down at the lube and with her left hand spreading the lips of her sex open, inserted the fingers with the lubricant into her vagina.

"It's cold!" she said.

Michael smiled and said, "I'm sorry; I should have warmed it up for you somehow. Are you okay, sweetie?"

She smiled at him and said, "Yeah; I'm okay." She had pushed as much as she had in her hand up inside her sex. Michael wiped her hands off with a towel and picked up the dildo.

"Now, Elizabeth, this thing is about my size. I want to gently push it up inside you only so long as it doesn't hurt. If it starts to feel uncomfortable, stop me right away. That way we'll know how deep I can go inside you without hurting you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I get it."

"Okay, now let me make it a little warmer so it won't feel cold." He took it into the bathroom and ran some warm water in the sink. He let the dildo sit in the warm water while he gently wiped the excess lubricant from around Elizabeth's vulva.

When Michael had retrieved the dildo and placed it at the girl's entrance, she tensed. It was then that it occurred to him that in his eagerness to ameliorate the experience for her he was being too mechanical. She was a real person, a flesh and blood girl. She needed to be caressed, to feel warmed by someone she trusted and with whom she felt safe in this terrible situation.

He set the dildo down on the night stand. He said to her, "Elizabeth, lie down next to me."

She said nothing but stretched out her lean, lovely, slight figure and fixed him with her gaze. He gently ran his fingers through her fine, chestnut hair and softly caressed her face. He proceeded to lean forward, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, and the tip of her nose, which caused her to giggle.

"You are so beautiful, Elizabeth, that it takes my breath away. You are a lovely, lovely girl."

Elizabeth started to smile. Lying on her side, she wriggled closer to him and relaxed her body as his hands moved to her neck and shoulders, stroking and touching. She noticed his penis growing longer but did not feel threatened by it. She felt something between her own legs now. She was stirred by him, by his warmth and tenderness. She had not experienced this from the other men who had taken her so roughly and so thoughtlessly.

When Michael ran his hand down her chest and her belly to her thighs, she shuddered momentarily. She then surprised both Michael and herself by opening her legs and exposing her bald pudendum, wanting him to touch her there.

His hand found its way around her lower back and down to her soft, little tush. He put his hand on her left butt cheek and squeezed gently. She responded by touching him for the first time. She ran her hand up and down his arm as he caressed her bum.

Michael was fully erect, now. He looked into her eyes as he let his hand stray to the warm, secret place between her legs. He felt the soft, wet labia. Elizabeth pushed forward to meet his grasp. She moaned very softly. Her face turned red and her breathing became labored.

Elizabeth then rolled onto her back and spread her legs. She had been raped often enough to know what was to happen and what was expected of her now. The difference this time, however, was that she was not being forced.

Michael got up and went to the door. Opening it he called, "Angela! Get your camera! Quick!" he turned on the lights in the room, making it ready for filming.

Larissa left the rental car in the car park and, putting on her sunglasses, quickly made her way toward the terminal at LAX. Before entering it she had checked her two suitcases and made a last phone call. Once inside the building, she removed the battery from her mobile phone and dropped the phone into the nearest trash bin. At the ticketing kiosk, she received her printed ticket to Vancouver, British Columbia. From there she would fly directly to Tokyo and then to Vladivostok and then on to Moscow.

Since they had decided to pull her out so suddenly, Marisol, the woman held hostage, would be left to her fate. Maybe if the cartel people were satisfied with the film they wanted, the young woman would be freed. Although she hoped it would be and had done her best for Marisol, she wasn't optimistic. Organizing herself for the boarding process, her thoughts turned to the little girl she was leaving behind.

The woman and the man seemed decent. They wouldn't abandon Elizabeth. They would see to her care; she was sure of it. It was much better than leaving her to someone like Boris. The public address system in the airport announced,

"NorthAir Flight 857 bound for Vancouver will start boarding in 30 minutes from Gate 12A. Please be at the gate on time with your ticket in hand. Repeat, NorthAir Flight 857 for Vancouver boarding at Gate 12A in 30 minutes."

Larissa sighed, slung her bag over her shoulder, and, looking around warily, took her place in the security line.

Coming back to the bed, Michael moved between Elizabeth's legs and placed his erect cock between her pussy lips. He gently pushed the head into the vagina. She closed her eyes and sighed audibly. Michael was trembling as he pushed in deeper. Can it be that she really wants this?! he thought. He was overcome with lust against all expectation. He wanted this lovely child despite the crime he was committing against her.

Elizabeth surprised him by reaching up and gently pulling him down into her.

They hadn't noticed that Angela had entered the room with the camera on her shoulder. She was filming them from different angles, going with the flow of the moment, following Michael's lead.

He was now moving slowly but steadily in and out of Elizabeth's pussy. She was arching her back in an attempt to meet his gentle shallow thrusts into her little sex.

He was right, she noticed; it didn't hurt when she was slippery. It even started to feel good.

Elizabeth had reached that age when girls become much more powerfully aware of sex. Though isolated from her peer group by her abduction and subsequent treatment, she nonetheless thought about boys and men. Being raped when she was younger was less a sexual violation for her than just pain, humiliation, and loneliness. Being with Michael was very different.

"All right, sweetheart," Michael whispered to her, "when I get off of you, turn around and get on your elbows and knees facing the headboard. I'll enter you from behind."

As Michael withdrew from her sex, she obediently turned and faced away from him with her little cunt and asshole presented ostensibly for his pleasure. But now, it seemed, for hers as well.

Angela recognized what was happening and let her artistic instincts take over, forgetting the anguish she felt not ten minutes before. The child was enjoying this, she could tell. Wow! she thought, she's a participant! She's ... sexual! She got right up next to Michael as he guided his thick cock into the ten year-old's wet snatch. He held her small hips in his strong hands and carefully moved in and out of her. Despite her desire it would be easy for him to hurt her without intention. He wanted above all to be gentle with her. Goodness knows she deserves that at least, he thought to himself.

Marisol Estrada sat on the floor in the corner of a dank room in a house approximately 13 miles from the U.S. border crossing at San Ysidro, California on the Mexican side. Bound hand and foot for 8 hours a day, hooded for 12, the location might as well have been the moon for she knew she had no chance of escape.

Petite and pretty, Marisol had tended to neglect her grandmother's advice to prepare for life in favor of trading on her looks to get what she wanted. Up to now, it had worked pretty well. Her involvement with the drug business working for the Russians seemed suitably glamorous and had been her chance to enter the U.S. she thought. Larissa said if she did a good job after two years they would smuggle her into the country.

Now, after her capture by the cartel, she would be surprised if she were alive at the end of the week. If her captors could be believed, which was not likely, her life depended on Larissa delivering a little girl to a pornographer. If they made a film following the instructions of the same men that held her captive, she would be released. All she could do was hope they would keep their end of the bargain.

In another room in the same building, Marcus Rocque was just waking up. He had just spent another night (or was it day?) tied to a chair. He'd be let up in the next hour and taken to the toilet. It had been like this for six days straight. My mother better make that fucking movie! he thought, still outwardly defiant though his inner bravado was beginning to fade.

Marcus had his mother's coloring and classic "surfer dude" look. He had all the arrogance of the usual Mexican caricature of Americans. On his trips south of the border, his attitude had gotten him in trouble with the law. The ease with which the local constabularies were paid to overlook his behavior meant that he had yet to pay a price for his obnoxious demeanor.

Had he not tried to act important, he might not be in his predicament. The 13 year-old girl was just a whore for Christ's sake! Who the fuck cared about her? he thought. It turned out, however, that she was employed (owned, some would say) by the cartel that was his present captor. Beating her up still counted as a crime against somebody even in Mexico, as he found out to his regret.

In this case, the loud-mouthed, careless, haughty American unknowingly transgressed against the wrong outfit. The Mexican police could have easily been bribed to look the other way. A drug cartel, however, that felt it had been insulted, challenged, even, by some blustering gringo would not likely let the offense pass. Ergo, if Marcus's mother did not humiliate and risk ruining herself, he would be killed. It was even likely that his head would be mailed to her packed in dry ice.

Neither Marisol nor Marcus was aware of the other. What they had in common, however, was that if a little girl in southern California was not fucked by an adult on camera and the DVD delivered promptly, they would both be dead the day after tomorrow.

With Elizabeth on her elbows and knees, Michael pushed his erect cock in and out of her. He moved slightly to the right to let Angela get in close with her camera. When she stopped filming to change position, Michael asked the little girl,

"How are you feeling, Elizabeth? Does this hurt at all?"

"No, it doesn't hurt."

Michael, still inserted, leaned forward and kissed her back.

"Elizabeth?" Angela said quizzically.

The little girl turned her head. "Yes, that's my name."

Angela smiled warmly and touched the girl's cheek. "Okay, Elizabeth."

Angela got into position standing right next to Michael with one foot on a chair and the other on the bed. She was able to film his thrusting into the girl's sex from above. Her hips looked so small as did her tiny anus when seen in proximity to Michael's long, thick cock fucking her little pussy. Each time he pulled his erection out, some of her pink inner flesh became visible and his rod glistened in the light covered as it was with the lubricant and the girl's own moisture.

Both Angela and Michael were surprised to see Elizabeth moving in rhythm with the sliding of the cock into her quim. In a way that was unexpected, the child appeared to be experiencing pleasure from the intercourse.

For Elizabeth, this was different from the times before. The men who had raped her previously hadn't been at all solicitous of her as were Michael and Angela. The lubricant made a big difference but so also did their caring and her age. She was older now, a preteen, and receptive to the pleasures of sex. She had recently begun masturbating without fully understanding what it was. It felt good, so she did it. That she did it so often was not surprising given that there was so little joy in her life. It sexualized her in a way that was not typical for a girl of ten.

"Okay, Derek and Elizabeth; it's time to switch positions." Angela had stopped shooting to give them direction and to provide an opportunity for them to assume a different pose. "Elizabeth, I want you to sit on Derek with his penis inside but with you facing him. Can you do that?"

"Uh-huh," she answered and she turned around and got up on her knees to face them.

Angela then asked, "Do you feel all right, honey? Can you continue?"

"Yes," she said, "I'm fine." And then she added, "I know his name is Michael."

Angela opened her eyes wide momentarily and then smiled.

"All right, dear; now wait until Michael is positioned and until I tell you to begin. Then swing your leg over him and using your left hand, insert the penis into your vagina. Can you do that?"

"I think so," she said.

"And once it's inside you, start going up and down on it."

"Okay."

Michael propped up the pillows and positioned himself sitting up. Angela moved the boom microphone over his head. Elizabeth was on both knees next to Michael waiting for a signal from Angela.

The woman positioned the camera and said, "Okay, Elizabeth; start to get on top of Michael."

Elizabeth nodded her head and then straddled Michael and, following Angela's direction, swung her leg over and started to sit on his fully erect cock. As she was told, she reached down for it and directed the head between her moist labia and sank slowly down onto it.

She's so small and his cock is so big! Angela thought to herself. She concentrated on filming the slow insertion. Despite her misgivings about this, the scene was intensely erotic. The child's innocence contrasted with the man's obvious desire would be enough to make a more squeamish viewer look away ... except for the girl's performance.

There was no need for Angela to ask her to moan out loud to exaggerate her involvement, employing a hackneyed but standard porn device. The child's concentration and her subtle yet obvious taking of pleasure in the act made it thoroughly and unexpectedly arousing. She knew Michael well enough to know he was feeling it, too.

Elizabeth was moving up and down while impaled on Michael's hard member. It was amazing to see her little pussy open up for the large, adult cock, Angela thought. This position offered the viewer a good look at the ten year old's anus. It looked like a tiny pink rosebud just above the open slit of her little girl vulva. Despite the awfulness of it, she was turning out to be a good performer; a natural.

Michael sat back and watched the pretty child sliding up and down on his prick. She put both of her hands on his chest for balance. He reached up to caress her shoulders as she slowly and carefully fucked herself.

Solicitous, he whispered to her, "Are you all right, honey?"

Concentrating on her task, she whispered in reply, "Uh-huh!" without looking up.

She continued up and down until Angela said, "Change positions now. Elizabeth, get up off of Michael and turn around. Do the same thing you did before only face front now."

The girl said nothing but followed Angela's directions. She stood up on the bed and turned around. She squatted down and guided Michael's boner once again into her tight little pussy.

"You can lean back against him if it's more comfortable and let him move in and out," Angela advised.

Elizabeth leaned back against Michael, who put his hands under her arms to help her position herself. Angela moved in for close-up shot of her twat being fucked open by Michael's large penis. She was well lubricated and able to keep going for the four minutes of shooting in this specific position.

There were just two more positions to go. After that, Angela would film their introduction, Elizabeth giving him a blow job, Michael eating her pussy and asshole, and finally, the cum shot to the face that the "client" required.

"Okay, guys; position change! Elizabeth, lie down on the bed on your tummy and spread your legs. Michael, approach her from behind on top. Let me see your cock enter her and then go in and out for about another four minutes."

Elizabeth lay face down and opened her legs. Michael asked her, "Elizabeth, are you still wet enough? Is it still comfortable?"

"Uh-huh," she said without turning around.

"All right, honey. If you start to have any problems, stop me. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Michael," Angela said, having set the camera, "Are you ready?" Seeing him nod, she said, "Start!"

He positioned himself over the girl's sweet tush and slowly guided his turgid member into her little cunt from behind. Once halfway in, he started moving in and out slowly and then a little bit faster. Elizabeth did not react so he was fairly sure it wasn't hurting her.

Angela captured the fucking first from the bed level and then, moving around them, from the side, the top standing over the little girl's head, and from on top over Michael's shoulder. One more position to go, she said to herself.

"All right; we're going to do the last position for intercourse. After that, we'll shoot the oral sex scenes and an introduction before the last scene, the cum shot. Are you guys ready? Michael, you'll be taking Elizabeth standing up." She instructed both her actors in how she wanted them positioned and how she was going to film.

Michael had withdrawn his penis from Elizabeth. The girl turned over and sat up to listen to Angela. Michael sat beside her also listening attentively. He had wrapped his arm around Elizabeth's shoulder. She inclined her head toward his chest and leaned into him. The gesture broke Angela's heart. This poor innocent child! she thought. We're going to do something to help her after this is over, she vowed.

Michael got up off the bed and came around to help Elizabeth up and to position her against the dresser in the bedroom. Angela continued her direction.

"Just stand with your feet apart ... that's right ... and step back a little bit ... that's it. Now, lean forward and bend over slightly. Put your hands on the dresser for support. Beautiful!"

"Uh ... Michael?" the girl said quietly, looking over her shoulder as she spoke.

"Yes, Elizabeth?" Michael replied, stooping to put his face near hers.

"I think I need you to make me slippery again."

"Of course, honey. Sit on the edge of the bed."

Angela handed him the lubricant and a towel. He had the girl put out her hand. He squirted some lube onto it and told her to push it inside the same way as before. After she did so, she whispered in his ear, "It's still cold!" and they both laughed. She likes him, Angela observed; she trusts him, seeming to validate her choice of Michael as the girl's co-star.

Elizabeth resumed her position at the dresser and waited for Michael to enter her.

"Okay, Michael; go!" Angela said from her vantage point to the left and below Elizabeth. Michael grasped his cock and inserted the head inside the girl's freshly lubed twat. He went slowly, not forgetting to be careful and gentle with the child. When it felt slick, he started to pump her a little bit faster. Elizabeth's little ass cheeks shook slightly with each thrust.

When Angela announced that she had gotten all the shots and that they were done with this phase of the film, Michael withdrew from Elizabeth's sex. As the girl turned around, he got down on his knees in front of her and held her close.

"You were wonderful, Elizabeth! I'm so proud of you! You're a very brave girl!"

"Thanks," she replied.

"Did I hurt you in any way?" he asked, concerned.

"No, it didn't hurt at all. I guess it was because I was so slippery."

Michael smiled sadly and said softly to her, "Yes, honey; I guess so."

As he held her tight, she unexpectedly put her arms around his neck, kissed his cheek, and pressed her head to his. Seeing their affection for each other, Angela's eyes filled with tears and she turned away.

Michael said to the little girl, "Let's go into the bathroom. We need to clean up for the next scenes. We're almost done."

"That's good," she said, "because I'm hungry!"

Both Michael and Angela burst out laughing, though Elizabeth didn't know what was so funny.

"Oh, Elizabeth; I'll take you out to lunch wherever you want to go!" Michael said.

"Really? I want to have pizza! And orange juice!"

Michael smiled at her, saying, "You can have anything you want, you sweet little angel!"

Elizabeth smiled. Goody, she thought, I'm going to have pizza!

She gestured for him to come closer. When he bent to her, she whispered to him, "I have to clean myself out again."

"Okay, sweetheart; go ahead," he answered in a whisper.

The beautiful, naked, little girl then skipped out the bedroom door to the bathroom across the hall. Michael shook his head and said to himself, the resilience of children!

After she returned, they washed themselves for the next scene. Elizabeth was positioned on her back on the bed as Michael ate her pussy for three minutes while Angela shot the scene.

Michael then explained to her that she now had to suck his penis. She looked at him doubtfully, but said nothing.

"It's easy, darling. All you have to do is put this part ..." he indicated the head (he had stroked himself into a hard on) "... into your mouth and bob your head up and down. At the same time, put your hand around it and move it up and down. Go ahead, try it."

With a look of concentration on her face, Elizabeth knelt down on the carpeted floor and stared briefly at the hard cock before placing the knob in her mouth. She let it rest there for a moment before moving her head up and down. Then she remembered Michael said to move her hand up and down. She got all of it coordinated, finally, and after adequately demonstrating her new-found facility Angela told her to stand up and step back. She was ready to begin shooting.

Michael recited the line, "Okay, baby, start sucking my cock!" and Elizabeth entered the frame from the right as they had rehearsed, dropped to her knees and took the cock into her mouth. She then commenced performing fellatio until Angela told her to stop. Both she and Michael complimented Elizabeth, which made her smile.

The next thing Michael and Elizabeth had to do was get dressed. Angela needed to shoot the introductory scene that the "client" had requested. Michael and Angela went over the lines with Elizabeth three times until she was sure she had them down.

Michael sat in a chair in the bedroom with Elizabeth on his lap. Michael started by asking her questions.

"So, honey, tell everybody your name."

"It's Brittany!"

"Brittany? That's a lovely name for such a lovely girl."

Elizabeth smiled at Michael as instructed.

"How old are you, Brittany?"

"I'm ten years old."

"Wow! Ten years old! Brittany, have you ever been fucked before?"

"Yes! Lots of times!"

"And do you like it?"

"Oh, yes; I like it a lot!"

"All right, then. Take your clothes off and we'll start fucking!"

"Okay!" she said, hopping off his lap, still smiling. Michael then rose and moved out of the frame as the camera focused on Elizabeth taking off her clothes, per the script.

When she was naked, Michael spoke to her off camera.

"Brittany, turn around and bend over. Now, spread your ass cheeks with your hands. We want to show everyone your pretty little asshole and pussy." Angela zoomed in for a close-up of the child's private parts.

The little girl did as she was told, bending forward and pulling her buttocks apart with her hands revealing her anus and pudendum. Her asshole and pussy looked so small, so delicate to Angela and to Michael. It was hard for Michael to believe he had actually fucked her tiny opening through more than 30 minutes of video.

"We're almost done, Elizabeth. This is the last scene." Angela smiled and kissed her cheek.

"Okay," she answered.

Elizabeth had not put her clothes back on as the final scene called for Michael to ejaculate onto her face. He had briefed her on the scene and rehearsed it with her. She told him she was ready.

"Now, remember, don't open your eyes until I clean your face off with the wash cloth. Okay?"

"Okay, I remember."

As they had rehearsed, Elizabeth knelt in front of Michael. He began stroking his cock rapidly. Elizabeth closely watched as his hand moved up and down; his penis looked to her as if it were getting slightly bigger. Angela, waiting for Michael's signal, had not started filming.

As Michael got close to his climax, he nodded to Angela, who began filming Elizabeth and Michael in profile. Elizabeth's smiling face was upturned and waiting.

"Ahh ... here it comes, baby!" he shouted. Angela zoomed in for a close-up. Elizabeth closed her eyes and braced herself for the splash.

Michael spurted and hit Elizabeth's face with three separate loads. The first hit her forehead, the second splashed her right cheek, and the third landed on her left eyelid and the bridge of her nose. She stayed still, having been prepared by Michael's using the water to simulate the facial cumshot.

Elizabeth felt the semen dripping down her face and onto her flat chest and thighs. She stayed perfectly still until Angela said, "Cut! That's it! Michael, clean Elizabeth off. We're all done."

Michael leaned over in front of the girl and with the wet washcloth began to clean off her pretty face.

"You ... were ... awesome! Elizabeth, you're a star!" he joked as he wiped the cum away from her eyes.

She giggled and said, "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Yes, you may," he said as he knelt down on the floor to look at her. She really was a brave little girl, he said to himself; braver than she knew.

She opened her eyes theatrically and smiled at him. He smiled back and put out his arms. She stepped forward and hugged him, almost knocking him over in her enthusiasm! As Michael held her close, tears started to roll down his cheeks.

He was determined, now, to rescue her. This was to be the last time she was to be abused and put on display for someone's gratification.

Elizabeth gently pulled away and seeing the tears on Michael's face said, "I'm okay, Michael. Please don't cry. You didn't hurt me ... just like you promised." She bent over and kissed his lips. He smiled at her and said, "C'mon, you dear little girl. Let's take a quick shower and get some pizza!"

"Okay!" she said and ran ahead to the bathroom and started running the water in the shower.

As they emerged from the shower, Angela was waiting in the bedroom.

"Michael, I'd like to speak to you in the other room; now, if it's okay."

"Sure," he said, wrapping the towel around his waist. He turned to Elizabeth and smiled.

"I'll be back in a minute. Just finish drying and get dressed."

"Okay," she said as she vigorously rubbed her head with the big bath towel.

"Michael, that woman called my phone to tell me she's not coming back."

"What!?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, in her message she asked that we take care of Elizabeth -- she called her Elizabeth -- and that we forgive her for leaving the girl like this."

"Hmm ... I'll bet she's leaving the country, what with a drug cartel on her tail I can't blame her. She certainly can't take Elizabeth with her."

"She also said there was a woman in Mexico who would be killed if we didn't send the DVD on time."

"Oh. She must have worked for her and now she's another hostage like Marcus."

They stood in silence for a moment and then Michael spoke.

"Well, that suits me just fine because I wasn't going to let Elizabeth go back to her anyway."

Angela looked surprised. "Michael, when did you decide this?"

"Earlier today. I don't care, Angela; I feel responsible for her now ... especially after what I did to her ..."

"Michael, no ... what I did to her. I'm sorry. I know you'll probably never speak to me again but I want you to know that I really am sorry."

Michael looked at her. Yes, he said to himself, I know you are. He hugged Angela to comfort her as she clung to him tightly, weeping.

"It's all right, Angela," he said gently. "I'm pretty sure you saved her life. They would probably have killed both Larissa and her if they hadn't cooperated.

"And if not for you, I would never have met her." Michael said, "I didn't want to, if you remember. Now, I never want to let her go."

He held Angela close. Turning her in his arms he suddenly saw Elizabeth standing in the living room looking at them. His face broke into a warm smile when their eyes met. Elizabeth ran to them and put her little arms as far around them both as she could. Angela and Michael reached down to touch her gently and to hold her close to them.

"Do you really want me to stay with you?" she asked.

Michael gently caressed the back of her neck and answered, "Yes, darling, we do, if that's what you want."

"Oh, yes; yes I do!" she said.

"Then that's what will happen, dear," Angela said to her as she bent to kiss her cheek.

This made Elizabeth smile. She hugged Angela tightly. Then she looked up and said, frowning,

"Michael, get dressed so we can go eat!"

Michael and Angela started laughing and Elizabeth laughed with them. Michael scooped Elizabeth up in his strong arms and walked toward the bedroom. As he carried her down the hallway, she put her little arms around his neck and told him excitedly about the kind of pizza she liked best.

While Michael and Elizabeth were lunching at a pizza restaurant in a local mall, Angela finished putting together the DVD. Later that afternoon, she sent it by courier to an address in East L.A., making sure it arrived well before the deadline.

Hector Cruz, better known as "Morochito" (Sweetheart), laughed as he watched the pornographic film featuring the little girl. "The bitch did it!" he said out loud and then laughed again. These people have no honor, he said to himself in disgust. That will be their downfall.

"Emilio!" he called. His young lieutenant from Chiapas stuck his head in the door.

"Si, Hector?"

"Get rid of those two, tonight; as we discussed."

"Si, Hector!" he said and quickly disappeared.

Morochito then took the DVD out of the player and carefully set it down on the floor against the wall at an angle. He then brought his heavy left foot down upon it, shattering it into a dozen shards.

Marisol was thrown up and down and from side to side in the back seat of the SUV. Bound hand and foot and hooded, she knew that when the vehicle stopped she would probably be shot in the back of the head and tumbled into a ditch somewhere out in the desert. She was sad more than frightened. She had never wanted to work hard at anything in her nineteen years and was always impatient. Her abuela warned her about taking "short cuts" in life but she thought she knew better.

The SUV came to a stop. There were no sounds coming from outside. Two men pulled her out of the vehicle and dropped her on the ground. "Grandma, I'm sorry! Jesus, forgive me!" she said out loud. One of the men laughed. The other, standing behind her, pulled off the hood. It was nighttime and she was momentarily blinded by the flashlight shining in her eyes. She felt the man cut the ropes that had secured her. He lifted her to her feet. The man with the flashlight addressed her.

"Okay, putana; Tijuana is three miles up the road," he said and pointed. "That way! Start walking!"

Marisol blinked, confused. With her eyes adjusted now to the light, she saw that his face was covered by a ski mask. She was astonished. She was going to live.

The other man said, "Hey! And don't mess with Morochito again. You won't be so lucky next time."

They jumped into the SUV, roared off in the other direction, and left her standing by the side of the road. After the initial shock of her good fortune wore off, Marisol started walking as if in a dream toward the lights of the town ahead.

Angela worried that the making of the DVD would come back to haunt her, to surface somewhere, but it never did. She resumed her productions with Michael still working for her occasionally though no longer in front of the camera. She warned Marcus that if he ever strayed again, she would not help him. She said something to the effect that if anything like that ever happened to him again, she would find him and kill him herself. For perhaps the first time in his young life, Marcus Rocque was speechless.

Michael moved out of his one-bedroom apartment and got a two-bedroom place close to where Angela lived. California Child Protective Services placed Elizabeth in a group home temporarily while Michael went through the process of becoming her adoptive parent. The references from his more socially-acceptable line of work were stellar. It was greatly in his favor that it was recognized by all observers that the girl seemed to see in him the father figure she so badly needed. It would have been better if he had been married but older children were very hard to place so this did not count against him.

At the group home, everyone was impressed with Elizabeth's demeanor and how intelligent and well-read she was despite having attended school only intermittently. Michael Barnum, the man intent upon adopting her, telephoned her every evening and visited her every weekend. It was only a matter of time before they would be together. The counselors would miss her but they were all happy that she was to be placed with someone who so obviously loved her and was committed to giving her the care and attention she needed.

To Shareika Dunlap of Cal-CPS, Michael and Elizabeth would be an older-child adoption success story. Whenever she had seen them together, whether during the interview process in her office or visits with them at the group home, the joy she saw in their faces when they were together warmed her heart. (This happened only rarely as she had seen too much in the thirty years she had given to the abused, abandoned, and troubled children of California.) Whatever happened during that weekend when Michael found her, after she had been abandoned by the mobsters who had so abused her, must have forged a very strong bond between them, she mused.

Shareika believed that some people reach a point in their lives when they believe themselves ready to be parents. She thought that about Michael. Elizabeth was certainly ready to have a home and for someone to love her. According to their profile on him, Michael was perfectly suited to providing the right kind of environment for her. When she thought of Elizabeth and Michael, it was with a sense of both satisfaction and hope.

With a sigh of resignation, she turned to another of the more than 200 cases for which she was responsible that were not as likely to have such a happy ending.

Elizabeth looked doubtful as Michael enthusiastically said to her, "Honey, you were great! That was a really good shot on goal you had near the end!"

"Nice game, Liz!" yelled one of her teammates running by.

"Thanks, Kendall!" she called after her. Then she turned toward Michael.

"Yeah, but if it hadn't hit the crossbar, we would have won!" she said, frowning. She walked a few paces with her head down.

Michael put his arm around her and said gently, "Yes, but you guys did really well to come back, sweetheart."

She brightened and looking up at him said, smiling, "Yeah; we did, didn't we?"

She and her adoptive father were trudging back to their car after Elizabeth's soccer team tied their game 3-3. She was sweaty and dirty with grass stains on her uniform jersey and pants; she had her soccer shoes tied together and slung over her shoulder. The slight eleven year old had turned out to be a pretty fair soccer player. More important, however, was the fact that she liked playing the game and that she was comfortable being around the other kids, most of whom were from her new school. That made Michael very happy.

Besides being her biggest fan, Michael put his professional expertise to work in making sure she had the right nutrition and in helping her through the physical preparation necessary for the soccer season. He attended all of her games religiously.

They were hurrying home so that Elizabeth could shower and change. They were going to have lunch that afternoon with Michael's girlfriend, Rachel. Rachel was also a fitness instructor. She worked for a local health club and had recently filmed her own exercise series. Rachel was attracted to Michael in part because of his commitment to Elizabeth. Here was a guy, she thought, who cared about a child in need and was willing to be responsible for her.

Elizabeth really liked Rachel and hoped Michael would marry her. Rachel was very affectionate toward Elizabeth and held the girl in high esteem for her intelligence and character, especially after she found out how the girl had been treated by her abductors. Rachel showed Elizabeth respect without patronizing her or feeling sorry for her. Though the girl seemed remarkably well adjusted, Rachel, along with Michael, were still concerned about her as she reached puberty, quietly monitoring Elizabeth's behavior for signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Michael and Elizabeth had been living together for almost a year though the adoption wasn't yet completely official. They would appear together before a judge the next week where Michael would sign the papers finalizing it.

In preparation for that event, they still had a few things to discuss, one of which was a decision Elizabeth would be making on her own. They had talked about the upcoming finalization ceremony before but now Michael, anxious to have everything settled before the meeting, discussed with Elizabeth the different aspects of it during their ride home from the Saturday morning game.

As they pulled into their apartment's lot and parked the car, he addressed the issue that had been most on his mind as the adoption finalization neared.

"Um ... Elizabeth, when we go before the judge next week, she's going to want to know what your last name will be. As I told you, it's okay to keep your name; they won't make you take my name if you don't want to. It's up to you, sweetheart."

He wanted her to know she had that flexibility. She should be in control of as much as possible, he decided. It would be good for her. Elizabeth looked at him with her typically serious expression and said,

"I know, but I want your name. You're my dad now. I never had a dad before. I want everyone to know that I'm your daughter," she said simply.

Michael got out and walked around the car and opened the door for her. As he did so, he felt the tears well up in his eyes. As she stepped out of the car he hugged her tightly and said softly, "Thank you, Elizabeth; I love you so much!"

"I love you, too, Michael," she said, smiling contentedly and hugging him just as tightly.

Then, after they released, she looked up at him and said, "Gee, you cry a lot don't you?"

She turned and started bounding up the steps to their apartment with Michael trailing behind, smiling and wiping his eyes.