NESSA'S PUPPY

BY LOWLIFE
lowlife_@fastmail.fm

[ part 4 ]

In the tack cupboard was stored an old and worn saddle - Viktor presumed correctly that the owner left it here just for exercising the horse in the paddock. It was hung over a four-legged stand that was shaped like a sawhorse. A little over a metre high, it had four angled legs supporting a length of rough, square cross-section timber, upon which the saddle normally rested.

He lifted the saddle off and carried the sawhorse over to where Nessa was suspended from the roof beam by her arms and left leg, setting it down behind her, at right angles to her back. He fetched a bottle of drinking water from his pack and unscrewed the cap as he walked back to her.

Her exhausted face registered a pitiful, accusing glare then she looked away.

She felt sick: the nasty horrid man - the bastard - had killed her puppy, so he had led her to believe. After the spanking and vicious whipping he had given her, she was one mass of pain, and he had done really dirty things, like fiddle and touch her, even lick her down below, before forcing her to drink brandy, which made her head spin and her tummy go all funny. But as if that weren’t bad enough, he had stuck his great big knobbly willy in her mouth and she had had to lick it and suck it, and though she tried to do what he wanted, even when his horrid stuff squirted into her mouth and over her face, the cruel man had still been angry and he had taken Kimmi outside the shed and…

She burst into tears yet again, despite the rawness in her throat and eyes. It was more than she could understand - why this man had turned so nasty and was making her suffer so much.

Nessa was helpless, dangling naked and bruised from the ropes, listening and watching for the next awfulness the tramp decided to do to her. She had almost lost any faint hope that it would ever end. He was unpredictable - one moment chatty, even trying to be funny, the next, he would be hurting her and saying dirty things. She was so scared.

Now he had done that to her puppy, what would he do to her?

Viktor stood beside her. He took a slug of water, wiping his hand across his mouth and drying it on his jeans.

In comparison to the tiny, scrawny pale eleven-year-old, he was a giant, his bare chest and broad shoulders hard and muscular tanned from years of hard outdoor living and working.

"Aww, Nessa, don't be upset. Now there's just the two of us, we won't be interrupted. Here - you probably need a good drink after crying all those silly tears."

Viktor put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring hug. He lightly brushed a tear from her cheek and held the bottle to her lips. No matter how she felt, how much she hated the man, she was so desperately thirsty that she accepted his offer and polished off the contents in rapid fashion.

"Hey! Steady on - don't want you wetting yourself again!"

Viktor tore a shred from her blouse and dampened it with the dregs from the bottle then gently cleaned up her face, wiping away the crusty tears and the snot and the cum that had dried on her chin.

He stroked her shoulder affectionately, speaking softly.

"I expect you're a bit tired aren't you? You’ve been through a lot this morning. Would you like me to let down your leg: give your arms a rest?"

Losing Kimmi had knocked the stuffing out of her. She swayed, expressionless, open jawed, her piercing eyes focused on nothing.

"Yes please, Mister Ziggi," she replied automatically.

"You're going to be a good girl this time, aren't you Nessa? I won't need to use the whip again do I?"

"No, Sir. Thank you, Mister Ziggi, Sir."

“OK, we’ll see if you can behave once more. Your leg does look very sore and I’m sure you wouldn’t like me to have to hit the other one as well.” In spite of the welcome ingress of fresh air when he had left the door open, the box was again stuffy, hot and airless and her skinny body was hot and clammy against his skin. He released the knot and slowly lowered the rope which had been holding up her ankle at waist height, whilst he had whipped the inside of the other thigh. She groaned beneath her breath, gingerly transferred her weight, grateful for some respite.

"Oh you poor dear," Viktor purred insincerely. "Your little arms and legs must be sore. Here, let's sit you down for a bit. That would be nice wouldn't it?"

On autopilot, she mouthed, "Yes, Mister Ziggi."

Her mind was numb. She had nothing left. The man had killed Kimmi. Perhaps he was going to kill her. She no longer even held out hope that someone would find her in this remote shed, or that her parents would come looking for her soon. She could do nothing to stop him doing anything he wanted. She still couldn't understand why he wanted to do these things to her.

But she knew for certain she couldn't stop him.

Just do what he wants, she told herself. Let it be over soon.

Viktor's huge hands, clasping around her ribcage jolted her from her trance. The strained muscles along her arms and in her shoulders ached as the burden of holding her up was momentarily lifted and her eyes screwed closed against the fresh wave of pain.

He lifted her light body with ease, nudging the sawhorse beneath her and lowering her slowly, with her legs either side of the beam. She grunted as her body weight was borne on her crotch, for her feet were a clear ten centimetres from the floor. The hard wood crushed her cunny and the skin of her bottom, still so tender and painful from the massive spanking, pulled tight and sizzled beneath her.

Her arms remained suspended by the cords and so maintaining her balance was yet another worry to add to her anguish. And when the inside of her right thigh chafed against the side of the wooden crossbeam, as he slid it under her, the stinging was sufficiently acute to make her cry out.

So much pain, yet again. She gave up trying to think: just capitulated to it, sinking down until the ropes bit into her wrists and her shoulders screamed with the strain.

Earlier, when he had taken time out to smoke his roll-up, Viktor had been busy rifling through the contents of the tack cupboard. He had been chuffed to discover the mysterious bits of leather strapping and as he smoked, he dismantled what he could, and the keen blade of his flick-knife dealt with the remaining old leather with ease.

And now, he was able to put to good use two half-metre lengths of strap, complete with buckles, binding Nessa's ankles to the outside of the 'rear' legs of the sawhorse. Then he inched the stand further forward, so that her arms were slowly pulled backwards and her back arched and her tummy and chest were thrust out in front of her. Each time the horse shifted, her groin rocked and ground on the rough wood.

"Hold tight, Nessa. This must be just like riding Frau Weber's horse isn't it?" he joked, nudging her further across the floor.

He stopped only when the ropes from the roof beam were pulled tight and the small girl was bent almost impossibly backwards, her arms taut at an acute angle to the rafter.

Viktor stood beside her, slipping a mint in his mouth and admiring the efficacy of his handiwork.

The stretching of her body was so painful and she was already quivering from the effort. Once more, her big green eyes were wide with terrified pleading but so far she had not dared to utter anything from her pretty little open mouth. She was too busy sucking in air, and struggling to control her breathing.

She looked so adorable when she was hurting.

He laid his hand lightly on her front and stroked appreciatively her hard, stretched tummy, with its deep dimples and tantalising furrow, arcing up to her chest. His fingers slid down and fondled her crotch and hovered up again, to dance across her small tits, pushed out and crowned by those gloriously delicate little pink nipples, nestling atop the small fleshy cones at the apex of each breast.

"Comfy?" he asked.

"Sir. Please - I'm begging you..." Nessa whined in reply.

Viktor put his finger to his lips.

"Ssh," he advised. "Save your breath."

He leaned forward, bending over her, and his lips and tongue succumbed to the temptation, licking and suckling her, nibbling and teasing and nuzzling and kissing her, sensitising her and drawing her nipples to full firmness. His finger roamed lazily up and down between her parted labia, where her crotch was bent back from the rough wood between her legs.

She was whimpering softly. So much of her body was in agony.

When it became too uncomfortable, he dropped his jeans and released his newly invigorated erection.

"Surely this is nicer than being whipped, isn't it, Nessa?" Viktor smiled.

“You have a nice little body. Sweet little tits, and well, as for your cunt - we already know what a hot, sexy little girl you can be. It’s no use pretending to me, young lady, you might fool mummy and daddy into thinking you’re still a sweet and innocent little girl, but I know different. You like it. You enjoy a man’s hands on your tits, like having a man fingering your hot little hole.

“It’s true isn’t it Nessa? You’re really a slut? A randy, sexy young whore who just can’t wait to be laid by all the boys in the village?”

It was awful! This horrible, nasty hands, with his mouth and hands over her, pawing and taunting her. Her bottom was hurting again from where the tender skin was pressing down in the hard wood. But what could she do? Or say?

"Yes, Mister Ziggi, Sir."

Just go along with it, she decided. She was too tired to think, the constant pain and torment had worked.

"Good girl," he whispered. "Do you like it when I lick your tits?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied a little too quickly.

His finger cocked, suddenly sinking a couple of centimetres into her hot, tight vagina. Her body snapped even tauter.

"And do you like it when I rub your little cunny?"

Through clenched teeth, Nessa replied nervously, "Yes, Sir, Mister Ziggi."

"Really?"

Viktor sounded incredulous.

"Do you really like it: being naked and having a man run his hands over your body?"

"Yes, Sir," was the automatic response.

"Are you a dirty, horny little girl, then Nessa?"

"Yes, Mister Ziggi."

His lips progressed upwards, kissing the side of her throat then her chin.

"If you like what I'm doing, perhaps you would like to kiss me, to show your appreciation?"

She was sinking back into her exhausted daze. She nodded.

He placed his mouth over hers and kissed her tight, unresponsive lips.

"Relax and enjoy, Nessa. You know, you are the luckiest eleven-year-old around here. I bet the others have never done any more than peck a boy on the lips and here you are, playing sexy games with a grown man. Let your lips relax, nice and soft...

"That's better. Nice."

He supported the back of the girl's head and kissed her again, gentling her lips apart and probing inside with the tip of his tongue. She was so tense, yet her mouth yielded and he tasted her: sour from her morning's torment and her serving of semen.

Viktor explored the serrations under her big front teeth and jousted with her diminutive and reluctant tongue. His fingers continued to toy with her clitoris and Nessa quivered even harder, and strained against the ropes and straps that held her so exposed and vulnerable. She stared, unseeing, at the ceiling of the roof box and a single tear trickled from the corner of her eye.

Satisfied, Viktor stood up and rubbed his back.

He possessed her now.

Just a tad more and his cock would be ready again. Play with her mind, play with her body. Then stick it in her at last.

"You're such a little slut at heart, Nessa. I wonder if I ought to take you with me? That might be fun. I could get you a nice collar like Kimmi's and lead you along on a leash. I meet a lot of guys on the road and I'm sure a lot of them would appreciate the company of a little whore like you, eager to suck their cocks. Yep. I reckon you'd be very popular. What do you reckon? Would you like to come travelling with me?"

Nessa listened miserably. He had to be teasing didn't he? Surely he wasn't serious? She searched his mocking expression for an answer.

"Well? How about it? Come with me and be my little tart? You just need some practice and you could earn a few Euro every night: enough to buy us some grub. How about it eh? Imagine yourself, every night, under some autobahn bridge, on your knees with a queue of men waiting to stick their dirty cocks in your face."

He leered at her, enjoying the growing discomfort in her face as on top of all the pain in her body, she clearly envisioned his suggestion, her eyes watering once more.

"P..please, Mister Ziggi. I just want to go home. Please let me go."

Viktor arched his eyebrow.

"I must say, I am disappointed. I thought you would leap at the chance. What a shame you're so ungrateful. And you were being such a good girl until then."

He shook his head.

"You are such hard work, Nessa. Oh well, if you don't want to come with me, then I'll just have to leave you with something to remember me by."

She eyed him dubiously until he disappeared from her field of view. She heard him in the tack cupboard again.

He had removed his jeans completely when he came back in sight and she saw his thing was sticking up again, the end all swollen and glossy. Her heart sank - he would want her to suck him again. But if that was all he wanted, and then he went, she could handle it.

Her stomach griped when he held out the riding crop, smiling and presenting it to her like a single rose for a lover. He reached out and stroked her upturned breasts, still tingling slightly from his recent attention. Then her fuddled brain assembled the clues and the spasm in her guts signalled the dreadful conclusion.

"Oh no. Oh please no, Mister Ziggi, Sir. No please don't."

Viktor moistened his lips.

"Nessa, Nessa. You didn't think I could go without one last bit of fun? But as I said I wouldn't whip your legs any more, I had to think of something different. And warming up those sweet little titties with this seemed like a reasonable alternative."

He stroked her nipples and made a show of standing in the right place and lining up the crop. She moaned a pathetic low wail of fear when he rested the flat tab of leather on one breast and circled it slowly around the aureole.

Then with a truly evil glint in his eye, he raised his hand and snapped the end of the crop viciously down, smacking the firm flesh on the underside of her small tit and releasing a shriek of terrified hurt from her trembling lips.

He rolled his eyes upwards and swallowed hard. This was just so thrilling: watching her face and hearing her agony, and seeing the effect of the crop redden and swell before his eyes. He swung again, against the other little tit. Her cruelly bent young body bucked but the straps held her legs tight to those of the bench, and the ropes pulled even tighter along her arms. Her body flexed but the greatest reaction was her head, which snapped and thrashed, the fine blonde locks swirling as he built up a relentless rhythm, landing the crop about her chest two or three times a minute. No sooner had she controlled her breath, and reopened her eyes, than the crop bit once more, savagely turning her lily-white chest to a livid matrix of fiery red welts. Of the three dozen strokes, at least six landed directly on her left nipple and her screams were more piercing than ever. No longer did Viktor seem to care about the noise - he was intoxicated by his power, and by his unlimited ability to subject the helpless little girl to unsurpassed extremes of suffering. The little cunt was going nowhere - her tits bounced and squirmed and begged him for the next stroke. Each time her tiny naked body bucked and writhed, he just wanted to do it again. And again.

It was only when she lost consciousness momentarily that he was jolted back to reality. There was a limit and even he knew he had reached it.

He tossed down the crop and stood with his hands on his hips, breathing hard, scarcely believing the rush he had just experienced. His cock was fit to burst.

He needed to have her.

Nessa gave a low, wracking moan. Her tortured lips were moving but she was too weak to form words. Her face was deeply flushed and beaded with perspiration, and flopped to one side. A string of drool seeped from her mouth. She was vaguely aware of the straps being released from her ankles, and then she faded back into a grey numbness.

"Nessa. Nessa?"

Viktor's mouth whispered in her ear.

She drifted back to consciousness. He was still there: the terrible man.

Every fibre of her body ached and throbbed. She tried to move and the pain of her chest, rubbing against something smooth and hard, forced her brain to orientate. She was no longer tied from the ceiling. Her eyes flickered open, confirming what her pain-consumed limbs were telling her - she was on the floor, on all fours. Well almost - she was bent face down over the saddle, which was in turn resting on the crate.

Her face was half-buried in her quilted jacket, which had been folded to form a pillow. She tried to move her hands. The familiar stinging grip of bonds about her wrists was still there although this time because Viktor and tied them together again with Kimmi's lead, above her head.

Her fingers touched the floorboards and she was certain at last that she was no longer hanging from the roof beam. Her head was so thick, she no longer trusted her own senses.

Her bottom was being raised, and now she could feel the heat and hairiness of his body touching the back of her legs.

And his hands roaming over her sore buttocks.

She groaned.

Nessa felt her bum cheeks being pulled apart and pressure on her anus, and though she tried to will her muscles to fight, something slippery and stiff was working its way into her bottom, pushing and retreating, and each time sinking a little further inside.

It was Viktor's middle finger and it was becoming more adventurous, sliding deeper into the silky passage of her rectum and moving in ever-widening circles as it withdrew, dilating her anal sphincter.

She was frozen. It seemed so huge, as if her entire body were being impaled. All the other pain was forgotten as her mind thought of nothing other than this invasion of her body.

"How's that for you, Nessa dear? Does it feel good?"

"Sir. Stop plea... yeeoooow!!"

She had felt him shifting position behind her, realised his finger had finally been removed. But when he pushed the end of his cock into the small, gaping hole, she had not registered what he was about to do.

His first heavy lunge took her by surprise. Yet with his weight behind it, only a few more teeth-clenching shoves were required before he had rammed half his rock hard penis down into her impossibly tight little ass. Such concentrated pain, from deep inside her own body, was a new, frightening experience and her howl of anguish and shock was an entirely instinctive reaction.

Yet he kept thrusting, one hand gripping the base of his cock, the other pressing down on her back. He snapped his hips and though it was in fact quite uncomfortable for him too, forcing himself into such a tight, unwilling orifice, he could sense progress each time he rammed down. And each time her little body slammed against the saddle and she grunted as her breath was taken away.

Just like a small, hot, flexible doll, she was, arranged carefully beneath him and unable to prevent him fucking her little arse. This was exactly what he had wanted to do to the stuck-up little bitch right from the start.

"Oh yes! How does it feel now, Nessa, you stupid brat? Not so snooty now are you? I told you what happens to girls like you. They get fucked by men like me!"

He adjusted his weight and moved his hands to grip her tiny waist. Her sphincter had been forced to open enough for his cock to slide at will inside her and he no longer had to brace it.

Now he could really ride the little fucker.

Pulling her bodily towards him, closer to meet each thrust of his hips, he pumped his hardness into her, grunting and straining with the effort. Faster and faster he lunged, their bodies moving as one, each emitting their own breathy exclamations to punctuate the pounding he gave her.

"Yes... bitch... go on: cry out... let it all out... take it all... oh yes... so fucking tight!"

Nessa had never felt so utterly used.

Her body was no longer her own. She had no control, just had to lay there, sprawled across the saddle, pressed hands gripping her hips and keeping her pinned beneath him. All she could do was fight for breath and pray it would soon end. That the way her guts felt crushed, her bottom ripped open, they would be over quickly. The sound of his grunting, his terrible words - she couldn't shut them out. She screwed her eyes shut but her senses just focused more on the overwhelming, relentless hot stiffness that seemed to fill her whole body each time he bore down on her.

"Sorry, Mummy," she whimpered.

Then it stopped. One moment she was crushed, her poor ass filled with his merciless cock, the next she felt the warm air on the rawness of her anus and his hands were gone from her sides.

She sank down over the saddle. Her legs, that had been drawn tight up against it, lifting her bottom upwards, were lifeless and simply fell to one side when he released her.

A dull ache replaced the sensation of being invaded, down below, pulsating in sharp twinges as the walls of her rectum dared to constrict. She panted, and as her chest rubbed sweatily against the seat of the old saddle, the bruised, abused skin tingled.

Even conscious thinking was beyond her now: her mind was little more than a crimson fog. She had no more tears left. Melting into the saddle, she surrendered to the cruel agonies that gripped every bit of her little body. Fresh pain replaced old as every piece of her being seemed to take it in turns to ache and throb and burn, and she lay and let the waves of agony ripple through her. She longed to sleep, but the torment denied her.

Viktor sat back on his haunches, watching. Elated at her total humiliation.

He had pulled out only just in time. A few strokes more and he would have unavoidably shot his load up the little bitch's ass, and that would have fucked up the grand finale. He looked down at his slick, distended cock, quivering up from his lap. It was amazing that it had fitted in that tiny body. Christ, her ass had been tight at first. Fucking hard work, but when he got his stride, when her muscles capitulated and he could sink himself right inside at will, even pull out and ram it straight back into the overstretched little hole... awesome!

He glanced at his watch.

"No rest for the wicked," he chuckled.

He clambered forwards, leaning across her twitching form, half curled up on the saddle.

"Enjoy that, bitch? Good. There’s more!"

He held her shoulder and rolled her on her back, picking her up around her ribs and dumping her squarely over the saddle. His body arched right over her, his face above hers, filling her view with his gloating snarl.

His eyes flashed wildly. Her child’s face was so crumpled in torment. Her cute green eyes now betrayed her total misery. This was fantastic!

He crouched over her and sat across her legs so that his hands were free to rest on her swollen tits. The contrast between the purple, misshapen lump on her left, and the almost perfect firm little pink nub on the right was astonishing.

"I've a better idea," he announced brightly.

Nessa opened one eye.

Viktor continued cheerfully, as if he was having a friendly chat, rather than as one who had spent the past hour spanking and whipping and sodomising a helpless schoolgirl.

"We're having such a great time, it would be such a pity not to keep in touch wouldn't it? I was only joking when I suggested you could come with me."

He grinned, "But you knew that anyway, didn't you?"

Then, with exaggerated enthusiasm, he looked into her face and added, "But the good news is that I could come back. To visit you. And we could play some more games.

"It's no problem. After all, I know your name - Vanessa Stommel, and that you live at Adlerstrasse 11. I know your phone number: 556 228. I know where you go to school, and even what's in the top of your wardrobe. You didn't know I'd been watching did you? Didn't know I'd been inside your house? That I've been after you for weeks, Nessa. You didn't really think it was a coincidence that you 'found' me here today, did you?"

He chuckled.

"Oh poor little Nessa. You fell right into my trap."

He paused, waiting for the implications to sink in. He confidently expected his bluff to convince the exhausted kid.

When she was so physically spent, the only way to make her suffer was to torture her stupid little mind.

The girl's eyes opened wide, her mouth gaped. Her brain was beginning to function again. Although she was beyond realising that all Viktor actually knew was what was written on the name tag inside her jacket and the ID disk on attached to Kimmi's collar. He pressed home his threat in a low, conspiratorial tone.

"I can come and go as I please, Nessa. So if you are a bad girl, Nessa, for example if you tell your mummy about what's gone on in here, I'll come after you. One night, you'll wake up to find me at the end of your bed, or I'll grab you on the way home from school. And I don't think you'd like me to do that, would you? Believe me, today will seem like a picnic compared to what I would do to you if you squealed."

As he spoke, he was casually arranging her, wadding her jacket to prop up the back of her head, and straightening her legs.

"On the other hand, if you keep your mouth shut, it may be a long time before we meet again. In fact, who knows? I may never need to return to this place. And you might never see this again."

Locating it inside his discarded jeans, he held up the knife and stroked the release so that the wicked blade snapped out with an efficient click that made her jump. He laid it down on the flat of her tummy and pushed the hair back from his ears with both hands. For a split second, she considered grabbing it, but Viktor was smiling down at her, as if reading her mind.

She dared not give him an excuse to hurt her more. Or worse.

She could no longer tell fact from fiction, nor even whether he was being serious or just taunting her. She conjured mental images of what he was saying and no matter how she tried, she could not erase them.

"Do I make myself clear, Nessa?"

She just blinked. Viktor took up the knife and grinned at her flinch when he wiped the side of the blade across her undamaged nipple.

"There is no need to tell anyone about us, is there? I'm sure you can find a way of keeping these marks hidden until they fade. Girls your age need their privacy, so keep the bathroom door locked. Find an excuse to miss PE at school - say its your time of the month or something."

Nessa mumbled, then immediately regretted divulging such private information to him.

"I haven't started yet," she said quietly.

Viktor was elated - a tiny sign that she was actually considering his warning. What fun!

"Well, pretend you have a cold or something. Do you think you could make it convincing: enough to stop your mum wondering?"

She was struggling so hard - her brain was addled by the pain and the lingering, dulling effects of the strong alcohol he had forced upon her, yet he expected her to reply, and she could not risk not doing so. She could make it up, tell him anything, but he always seemed to know what she was thinking. She gave a cold shiver. What choice had she?

He eased her legs wide apart and lifted her knees, leaving her lying like a frog on its back, her crotch fully splayed, and he shuffled to kneel closer to her.

"So, Nessa, dear - what do you think? What are you going to tell mum and dad?"

Viktor was enjoying himself, playing games with her mind. He rested his hand idly on the bloated welts concentrated at the top of her inner thigh. The swollen ridges felt so good, against the hot smoothness of the rest of her leg. He loved it when he touched an especially sensitive place and she bit her lip or sucked her breath. So very cute.

The open knife wobbled on the firm muscle of her tummy.

"Can you keep a secret, Nessa?"

She did not need to see his hand - she was acutely aware of its presence on her super-sensitive flesh. He leaned over her again. She felt his cock brushing against her tummy. Inside, her guts churned, and her throat tightened and she had to swallow to suppress the fear rising up her gullet: on top of all her other fears and worries, she realised her was about to rape her. So casual - the brute was chatting all matter-of-fact when all the time he was going to stick his thing...

"I asked if you can keep our little secret, Nessa."

She blinked and nodded.

"Yes, Sir."

"Really?" Viktor sounded surprised, doubtful. "So you think you can just turn up at home and they'll think nothing has happened? What about Kimmi?"

Nessa almost threw up at her own treachery, betraying her dear little puppy, plotting to deceive her parents. And letting this shit of a man get away with it.

"I'll tell them he ran away and I've been looking for him."

Yes! Victory! Now she was so fucked up, she had let herself become a co-conspirator in her own ordeal. Jesus, Viktor, you haven't lost your touch have you?

"And how about these little marks on your leg and the rest?"

"I wear pyjamas and anyway they don't come in my room without knocking. And we're not doing swimming at school this term because the pool's closed. And I can wear jeans instead of dresses and skirts."

He almost purred with delight. There was a hint of desperation in her reedy young voice as she tried to convince him. The stupid little bitch really was working it all out. For a fleeting moment, he thought she might even manage it. A flash of fantasy travelled through his imagination, in which he returned and systematically abused her, safe in the knowledge that she was too scared of him to resist. A nice dream, but he was too calculating and cynical to believe it was realistic.

Though this was a fucking good laugh, knowing he would still be scaring the shit out of her, even after he was long gone.

He expelled some saliva on his fingers and reached down to wet his glans and foreskin. Still conversational, he continued talking, whilst he lined up the tip of his cock between her juicy pink labia and began to rub it up and down between them.

"What about your bra and pants and blouse? Mum will notice surely?"

Nessa's mouth gaped in disbelief at what was happening. She should do something - shout or resist or wriggle away. He was rubbing his thing down there.

And she was acutely aware of the knife.

"I, er... I can go straight upstairs and change. Mum won't notice anything missing. Please, Mister Ziggi, don't do it."

Viktor continued to stroke his glans between her labia; he raised an eyebrow and smiled innocently.

"Do what, Nessa?"

She swallowed. He would be cross.

"Please don't put it in me," she spluttered.

He shuffled a tad closer, his knees now hard against her thighs. And still he provoked the small girl. Without comment, he removed the stiletto from her and placed it beside him.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Nessa. What are you trying to say?"

She was exasperated with his teasing. With her legs wide open and him prodding her, how could he not understand? A thrill burned through Viktor's guts: even after all she had been through, the stupid little cunt was acutely embarrassed. He ears were distinctly red and her cheeks had coloured. She could barely meet his eyes.

Her eyes were watering once more and her voice was faint and cracked.

"I'm begging you please, Mister Ziggi, Sir. Don't put your thing up my..."

She dried up.

"Ahh!" said Viktor, "you mean this?"

He nodded downwards.

"You mean you would prefer me not to fuck your sweet little cunt," he added evenly.

She blushed again and nodded.

Viktor expelled some more spit on to his fingers and applied it to the end of his knob. And returned to her pussy, using the swollen end to toy with the tiny fold at the top of her crack, pushing it aside and massaging the bright pink flesh beneath.

"Then ask me properly. Tell me exactly."

The small girl looked aghast but time must be running out and she steeled herself, stifling an involuntary sob.

"Please, Sir, don't put your willy in my front bottom."

Viktor could not help but laugh.

"Front bottom? What sort of stupid thing is that to say? Use grown-up words: I might understand you then."

And to chivvy her along, he replaced his penis temporarily with a pair of wet fingers, which manipulated the yet-underdeveloped delicacy of her inner labia and rubbed provocatively around the opening of her vagina. Then his middle finger pressed into the hole. A centimetre, two, three. She was sure she could feel the pressure, the tightness in her own hymen.

Her damp, pale eyes were desperate.

"Sir. Mister Ziggi. Please stop. Please don't f..fuck me."

He smiled down indulgently, but at the same time, his fingers took hold of his cock and guided it to her tiny opening and located the tip and he leaned forward and the tip forced her open.

"That's you being ungrateful again, Nessa. You'd be the envy of all the girls in your class, having the chance to be fucked by a real man."

She shook her head, tears flowing properly now and her small face crumpling as she realised he had no intention of stopping.

"Nessa," he murmured, studying her intently, "just be grateful that all I'm going to do is fuck you."

And with that, he thrust his hips towards her and bore down. With a long, forceful lunge that was uncomfortable for him, and excruciating for the tiny girl, he sank almost the entire length of his fully-bloated cock inside her. She yowled when the pain struck. The sensation of tearing, and of her stomach being filled beyond bursting, coupled with a prolonged, searing ache that smouldered and spasmed as his cock moved inside her.

She threw her head to one side and bit her lip but the pain would not stop and she wailed. Her small fingers clawed the dirt over the floorboards and her wrists chafed in vain against the dog leash wound tightly around them.

Viktor hardly dared believe it. He glanced down between their bodies, marvelling at the unbelievable, doll-like smallness of the bony, scrawny little girl in whom he was deeply impaled. Yep: it really was like fucking a small doll. She felt so damned hot and tight.

And he knew he was going to have to cum any minute.

So he huddled close over her and pushed more, and then began to pump into her. Her whole little body seemed tucked up beneath him, surrounded, helpless. Their bodies slid together, hot, sweaty. Each time he thrust up into her, he could feel the hardness of her cervix against the tip of his cock - he could not stuff any more of himself into the dumb kid. Every stroke made her whimper and grunt, her head flopped aside, mouth open, eyes staring at nothing.

His cock was at the same time numb yet on fire. Her little cunt was so unyielding, so constricted, and the hammering he was giving her was punishing his dick, yet every nerve tingled and the muscle ached impatiently right down into his balls and he could no longer hold on. His entire groin seemed to relax and all he could sense was the hot, hard rush of semen searing up his length and the glorious, euphoric sensation of release as it exploded inside the little girl. Unbelievable, like he was forcing himself into every part of her tiny body. He crumpled over her, pulling her shoulders to his chest and squeezing his pulsating cock even higher towards her womb, filling her with his seed and crushing her against him as his penis continued to spasm and spit and ooze until his testicles throbbed till they were dry.

He was totally spent. He slumped over her, uncaring that her tiny frame bore his weight. Tight beneath him, her hot, slippery body seemed part of him, so deep he felt inside her.

One of the best fucks ever. One way traffic, for sure, but watching her beneath him, powerless to resist, was utterly breathtaking.

Viktor lingered, almost oblivious to the small girl's low moans and the shallowness of her breathing as she bore his heavy body on her own. Slowly, very slowly, he came down from his high, and at last became aware of where he was, and the twinges in his cock as it began to lose its hardness and the uncomfortable tightness of the girl's vagina pressed on his so-sensitive glans.

Reluctantly he pulled out and stood up, a final drop of cum oozing from his cock and dripping silently on to the side of her leg.

It seemed incredible.

Had he really fucked that tiny little kid? Her naked, abused body was spread-eagled face upwards over the saddle, motionless, save for sporadic twitching and an occasional sniff and sob. It was over, but she was too out of it to care: her head was thick and spinning, every part of her body protested and throbbed and the stinging between her legs would not stop.

Nessa kept her eyes shut, but she could hear him shifting around on the wooden floor. Any moment she expected him to haul her to her feet and subject her to some other terrible ordeal. Or place his hands around her neck, or hold a bag across her face.

She almost didn't care any more. There was nothing left of her body for him to defile.

Even when she heard the door sliding open and felt the cool draught waft over her sweating skin, curling about her thighs and chilling the ghastly wetness in her crotch, she remained exactly as he had left her, too scared to move lest in some way she should encourage him to hurt her yet again. Her legs remained obscenely splayed, bearing witness to the brutal fucking she had endured. The worn leather was sticky against the aching bruises of her buttocks, and the never-ending ripples of mocking pain ebbing up from her stretched and battered insides wore away any remaining hope she had.

He had destroyed her. She would never see Mum and Dad again. Never ride Petra again, nor join the others on the school bus, or eat Grandma's wonderful torte.

She waited for him to return and end her suffering.

Her wrists ached, even though she thought she felt him messing about with the dog leash that had bitten into the skin for so long. She tried weakly to move her hands.

And felt the new slackness in the leather. Her hands were tied, but it all seemed loose.

She argued with herself for a full three minutes, then at last, her heart pounding, she dared to open her eyes, squinting at the roof of the shed as the strong sunshine poured through the open door.

Where was Mister Ziggi?

Her brain fought to make sense of it. Still too scared to turn her head, she tried to look around. She was completely confused, convinced she was going to die. It did not make any sense.

Nor did the sudden, cold wetness against her leg. Or that scratching sound, like small paws padding over the boards. And the delicate, tickly warmth of something soft nuzzling right into her gaping cunny.

Viktor peered around the door and smiled.

Kimmi, Nessa's golden retriever puppy, was sniffing between her legs, lapping at the wet mess of mixed body fluids smeared about her pussy and inner thighs. The dog's tail thrashed about excitedly.

Suddenly it was time to hit the road. Viktor hitched his rucksack higher up his shoulders, and strode purposefully off across the paddock.

Postscript:

The story can end quite logically at this point and I thank you for persevering thus far - I hope you enjoyed reading it.

"Nessa's Puppy" has a fifth, entirely optional, instalment but its content would stretch the editorial guidelines of this excellent site and so rather than put our hostess in a difficult situation, I have chosen not to submit it for publication here. However, if you would like to sample this darker, alternative way to end the tale, in which Viktor has one last surprise for poor Nessa, please contact me by email, confirming you are of adult age, and I'll send the full version to you as a simple Unicode text file.