ALONE WITH 'UNCLE' BARRY

BY PENNY LEE

Barry loved Thursday nights.

The stupid slag he was currently shacked up with had to work late at the bingo club and so he had the whole evening to himself. With her twelve-year-old daughter, Kimberley. And young Kim had a lot to learn.

Actually, the little bitch had been pissing him off recently. Not just being surly and snotty because he was shagging her Mum: she was always trying to stay out of his way. Locking the bathroom door, squirming away when he put his hand up her skirt when her mother wasn't looking - that sort of thing. Tonight he was going to make her pay for that. He had brought a few things in from his glazier's van in the street. Best to be prepared.

Kim's heart sank as she watched her Mum's back disappear up the street. The whole evening alone. With 'Uncle' Barry. She turned from the window of her room, wondering if she could slip out before he noticed. She nearly leapt out of her skin: Barry was standing in the doorway, smirking horribly. She swallowed hard. He had been whispering things to her all week, about what he planned to do to her once they were alone together. Now the time had come. There was no escape, no pretending to be sick, like last week. It was Thursday night, when Barry took it all out on her. The small girl wobbled as her legs lost their strength.

"Just you and me, Kimberley," grinned Barry, with patent delight. "Now, what shall we do this evening?"

She just stared blankly. Speaking would not have been a good idea.

"We could just sit quietly and watch tele?" he offered with mock pleasantness.

If only, the scared little girl thought.

Barry stepped into the room. "Or perhaps I could make you sorry for being such a little cunt!"

Kim backed against the wall. As Barry approached, she slid down to the floor, shrinking away from the inevitable slap. Too late. His arm swung down and when the flat of his hand connected with the side of her head, she saw nothing but a dark crimson for a few moments. She opened her eyes to the pattern of her bedroom carpet and her head throbbed muggily. She could feel hot tears welling up.

"That's for last week. I'll give you fucking 'I don't feel well, Mummy'. You might have fooled your stupid mother into stoppin' home to look after you, but I could see right through you, you little cunt!"

Kim recoiled from the spray of his saliva as he yelled into her face.

"So!" he shouted, grabbing her arm in his huge, rough paw of a hand, "First off, here's something to warm you up and maybe think twice in future about trying to get out of your Thursday night duties!"

He yanked her up on to her bed and pushed her face down in the quilt. She lay still, trying to suppress the thumping in her head, dreading his next move. When she finally summoned the courage to look up, he had just finished tugging his belt from the waist of his jeans and he shot her an evil glance as he leaned down and took hold of her hips. He climbed on to the bed, trapping her against the cold plaster, lowering his knee on to the small of her back and holding her down until he had unzipped the side of her pleated school skirt and tugged it roughly over her hips and down her thighs. Once free of her knees, it gathered above her short, white socks. She felt his thick fingers dive beneath the weak elastic of her knickers and he almost lifted her bodily from the bed as he wrenched them down.

Satisfied that her slim young buttocks were suitably presented for punishment, he pushed his knee harder down on her and shifted his body closer.

The first time the belt cracked across her bottom, she snapped rigid in shock. The pain was so much deeper and more concentrated than when he had merely spanked her, as he usually did at some point on a Thursday. There was a flash of total agony then a constant fire that felt as if her skin were sizzling. Even the sharp sound of leather on her taut buttocks was unbearable - a repeating reminder of her utter helplessness. Instinctively, she began to yell: a sorrowful wailing from the pit of her stomach. Barry reached over and pushed her head hard into the stuffing of the duvet, to dampen the noise.

He delivered four hard swipes with the folded belt, each to the same narrow area across the centre of her two buttocks. He paused, to admire his handiwork: the skin reddened and puffed as he watched, felt hot and bumpy to the touch. Compared to the cool silky smoothness of the backs of her legs. The blood pumping into his hardening cock felt good.

The girl was wriggling in distress. He could glimpse the tantalising pink crack of her cunt each time her thighs flexed.

Quickly, he applied the belt again, carefully aiming it in a pattern around the wide stripe of deepening, angry red, until he had covered her entire bottom with the belt's distinctive marks. She bounced and yelped and through her tears each time her pert little backside received a biting swipe. Fucking ace! Only when his own arm tired did he sit back and take his weight from her. By then she was quite motionless, apart from the constant shaking, anyway. And the way she flexed her legs together because it hurt too much to keep them still. And the moaning, and sniffing, and self-pitying whining.

He leaned against the wall, breathing hard from his exertions.

"That's just for starters," he panted, "I have some more exciting things planned for you later. Stop that fuckin' cryin' or I'll give you some more!"

The twelve-year-old blubbered and pushed her mouth into the cover of the quilt, and began to chew the fabric. The pain in her rear was just too intense, unrelenting, with waves of heat still echoing the strokes of her beating. Her body needed to cry. But she needed to stifle the crying - she didn't think she could take any more of Barry's belt. And besides the hurt, she was reeling from his ominous words - what else would she have to endure?

Thursday night: alone with ‘Uncle’ Barry and ‘Uncle’ Barry's pervy ideas.

There was nothing she could do. Running away was not an option - that would just leave her Mum to face the pig on her own, and Mum was scared of him. He hit her too. Kim had heard their arguments, when Barry came back late at night, and she had seen the bruises on Mum's arms and ribs, although Mum tried to keep them covered. She wanted to talk to Mum, but she knew that it would be useless: Mum always wanted to forgive Barry, to give him another chance. Why else was he still living with them?

"Get in here now, you little cunt!" yelled Barry from the living room.

Kim swung uncomfortably off the bed, pulling up her pants and skirt, and shuffled miserably out of her bedroom. Even the thin, soft cotton felt like sandpaper on the rawness of her cheeks.

Most Thursday nights, she would spend in the living room, on the sofa, perched awkwardly next to 'Uncle' Barry. He would occasionally dispatch her to fetch another can from the fridge, but mostly she would sit next to him, frozen, seeing but not watching the television and anticipating with dread his next demand. It began weeks ago, with a squabble over the remote control - Kim had wanted to watch a music show and, in those early days before she knew what Barry was like, had tried to argue her case. She wasn’t rude or anything – I mean, it was her Mum’s house after all. He had blown his top, and hauled her over his knee to spank her, before sending her off to her room. The following Thursday, she didn't mention the programme, but he found an excuse to spank her anyway, although this time, he lifted her skirt and held her over his lap for a long time afterwards, stroking her sore bottom through her panties, the filthy pig.

The week after that, he had made her drink some of his beer, and when she spluttered and spat some out when the bubbles went up her nose, he reached under her skirt, pulled down her pants, and gave a dozen stinging smacks to her bare buttocks. Then he began to rub her. Her skin crawled as his big hand stroked her aching bottom, then slipped down and fondled between her legs. Right there - feeling her pussy! It made her feel ill. She lay stock still while he did it and ran off to her room as soon as he stopped, but he had developed a taste for it and dragged her back, making her sit close to him whilst he squeezed her little tits and groped his fingers all over her pussy.

Then he made her wank him off.

That was disgusting! Holding that huge thing in her fingers and moving them up and down, listening to his grunting. Kim had never seen a proper erect penis before and it was both disgusting and amazing. She was clumsy and he kept swearing at her and in the end, he pushed her hand away and finished the job himself, squirting his gloopy stuff over her bare legs.

But the next week was even worse.

Barry had been unusually nice and she had not been spanked. The atmosphere was almost relaxed, although she was wary as she sat beside him, watching the TV. Then he put his arm around her, and flicked the remote to start a video.

"Watch this very carefully, Kim, because you're going to do this next," he informed her, as the short movie started. It was a porn video, with two silicon-enhanced women performing theatrical oral sex on a bored-looking man. She watched aghast, disbelieving that in only a few minutes, he was expecting to put his thing inside her own mouth!

She hated every second. He held her wrist tight until the closing credits. Then shoved her face in his crotch. Afterwards, he let her run off to her room, but not before she had raced to the bathroom and made herself vomit up his horrible spunk, and cleaned her teeth a dozen times.

Which was why last week, she had worked hard on Mum, pleading a chronic stomach cramp and fever, until she had relented and changed her shift and stayed home to nurse her sick daughter. Barry was incensed. Since then, whenever Mum was out of earshot, he had pressed himself against her, and breathed foul-mouthed warnings of what she could expect tonight. All week, her fear had grown. And now it was too late.

"I'm waiting, bitch, get your fuckin' arse in here, if you know what's good for you!"

She peered round the door, still sobbing, but desperately trying to keep quiet.

Barry's toolbag was open on the low table in front of the sofa. He registered her presence, but didn't look up. His voice was calmer, quieter, which made it all the more sinister.

"If you still have your clothes on, you'd better not come any closer - I might have to hit you. I want you standing there, naked, in one minute flat."

He finally turned towards her, "Understand? Cunt?"

Kim's pulse was racing. She stripped off her school clothes and threw them to the floor of her room. She hated herself for doing it. She was disgusted at the humiliation of having to go back to Barry with no clothes on, but she didn't want to think of the alternative. All she could do was go along with it, try not to upset him in any way. Then he might not hurt her any more.

She made it back to the spot on the carpet that Barry had indicated, and stood uneasily, with her hands clasped over her groin. She was very self-conscious of her body - kept the bathroom door shut even when there was just Mum in the house, and she changed for PE at school in one of the lavatory cubicles so the other girls wouldn’t see the way her body was developing. It seemed to be different every time she looked in the mirror: sometimes she noticed that her tits were a bit heavier - her flimsy little first bra was never slack or wrinkled these days, and her hips were definitely a shade wider. And now you could see the hair down below - it wasn't just one or two straggly ones - there was a proper patch of curls above her cunny, and several odd ones sprouting down the sides, towards her bottom.

That’s what Barry wanted to see too.

"Put your hands on your head, and turn around. Very slowly. Until I tell you to stop," he ordered, placing something from the bag just out of sight, beside the far end of the sofa.

He was dry-mouthed. He watched the slim, pale child rotating before him, and sighed with anticipation. She was his to control. Those tiny, squashy little tits, that skinny waist, the burning red cheeks of her cute little arse, the long, thin legs with not an ounce of spare meat on them. And now revealed for his inspection, the small, compact mound above her thighs, neatly split yet still coyly sealed.

He studied her thin face, framed by her longish, wavy brown hair, her large brown eyes wet and sad, her flushed cheeks streaked with the tracks of tears. The lovely firm mouth that had been denied to him last Thursday.

Well, he would more than make up for that this evening.

"I didn't say you could stop," he said, coldly. She was becoming dizzy: her small feet were straying from the designated sector of the patterned carpet. Kim swallowed against the nausea.

She continued to shuffle round for several more minutes, until Barry at last let her finish. He ordered her to stand in front of him, facing away.

The small girl gasped when he gripped her wrist and bent her arm up high behind her back, in an arm lock. He took the other one and did likewise, then with her wrists held uncomfortably high between her bony shoulder blades, she felt him wind the rope around them. Now she knew what he had taken from his bag. Barry had plenty of window sash cord - it was just perfect for tying up a little bitch. He bound her wrists tightly together, then wrapped more cord around her forearms, tying off each end around her elbows. Kim winced when he tightened the cord - already the strain was hurting in her shoulders and back.

The effect on her little girl's tits was most pleasing. Barry cupped his hands over each in turn, enjoying the warm, soft feel of as they were thrust forward. He rolled a nipple and pulled it, studying the resulting crease in the twelve-year-old's brow, pleased with the pained intake of breath when he pinched it hard and twisted.

Holding her hair to one side, he put his lips to her ear, and ran his tongue around the crisply formed shape. He held the lobe in his teeth.

"Like that, cunt? Feels good, eh?" he whispered into it.

Kim was aware of the sound of her own breathing: longer, deeper, with a tiny tremor when he touched her body. He was too close. She wished Mum would come home.

He turned her to face him squarely. She felt her ears burning with embarrassment and cursed herself for such a silly reaction under the circumstances. But she was ashamed - Barry's eyes brazenly studied her chest, then moved, taking in her firm, muscular tummy and the exposed bulge of her pubic mound. It was terrible - degrading. A man shouldn't look at a little girl like that, shouldn't devour her body with bulging eyes, or lick his lips do disgustingly.

And it was definitely very wrong for a grown man to touch her like that, between her legs, to push her labia open and feel inside. It was wrong but she had no choice. She didn't want him to punch her in the tummy like he did at the weekend, when Mum was up the shops. That had made her be sick.

So when he told her to move her feet further apart, she moved them. Quickly.

The girl's face was a proper turn-on. There was fear, self-loathing, hurt and disgust, all playing across her soft, immature little features. She was still nicely tearful. Her bottom lip would tremble every once in a while. So gratifying to see the reaction so clearly telegraphed whenever he stroked or prodded or squeezed the various succulent little parts of her sweet little body, now utterly at his mercy. The perfect victim.

There was still some cord left. Why not? She needed to be held still for the next bit of fun.

Kim hadn't noticed until now that Barry had also brought in from the van a small wooden workhorse - a trestle he used in his window-fitting business. He had laid a folded towel over the top, for padding, and she was grateful for that when he forced her down on it, backwards. It was excruciatingly painful in so many ways - her whole weight was borne only by the small of her back, and her arms and shoulders protested as she was bent backwards. The cord bit into her wrists and arms, the muscles of her inner thighs were stretched tight. So when he then bent her knees and tied her ankles firmly to the feet of the horse, she let out a heartfelt whine.

Even her neck was hurting, as her head was unsupported and just wanted to flop back towards the carpet. Although the strain of being arched back over the horse forced her knees outwards naturally, Barry took time to loop his remaining cord around each knee and tied it off to the tops of the legs of the workhorse, so that the outsides of her thighs were pulled flat against the face of the horizontal beam of the trestle and her legs were bent perpendicular at the knee. Kim couldn't see for herself, but she was acutely aware of the grotesque way her cunny was now thrust upwards and outwards, and was pulled wide open by her splayed thighs. And every sinew of her body hurt so badly.

Barry lit a ciggie and congratulated himself on such a good display. He could hardly have arranged it better. Now to scare the little bitch properly.

He settled down on the floor between her legs, sitting up so that his face was level with her neat young pussy. He marvelled at the smooth, tidy pinkness - her taut inner labia were fine and delicate - none of the ragged old flaps he was used to, the slags he fucked. Her vagina was like a dark teardrop: he peered closer, taking in the shiny membranes hidden in its depths. His cock twitched. His mind was wandering - from the delicious possibility of fucking mother and daughter on the same night to fantasies of unlikely threesomes - forcing them to lick each other, watching Kim's mother's face as he violated her daughter.

Easy now - don't want to cum in your pants, son!

He focussed on the here and now. Her cunt was so incredibly tiny - stuffing his fat cock in it was going to be fantastic.

But not yet.

Kim felt the cool draught of his breath as he blew a stream of tobacco smoke right between her legs. The sickly smell added to her increasing nausea. It took her pain-soaked brain a while to register the small, intense source of heat right against her pussy. She squealed and jumped - he was holding his cigarette right close! Down there! She felt a tickling, a tugging sensation of sensitive skin above her private parts, then a tingle as the pull was suddenly released. Barry was leaning on her thighs, his head close to her vulnerable pussy. The tugging was repeated. She flinched, and a sharp sting tore into her lower tummy.

"Jesus Christ, you stupid little fuck! Keep still or I'll do you a serious mischief!"

The pinpoint of pain throbbed. Barry had been enjoying himself immensely, lifting individual pubic hairs and using his cigarette to burn through them. When Kim had jumped, the glowing tip of his cigarette had brushed her skin, to the side of her left labium, and an angry little patch of red had instantly announced the burn. On top of the agony in all her muscles, the searing pain was simply too much - she had to risk Barry's wrath. She had to get him to stop – this was getting dangerous.

Her thin voice cracking, she pleaded, "Please, Barry. Please stop. Let me up. Please. I'll do whatever you want, but please let me go. It really, really hurts."

"It's supposed to, you dumb fuck," muttered Barry, icily.

But even he took note. He crawled around the bench so that he could see the anguish on her face. Her head had fallen right back, so that it was upside down. He put his hand under her shoulders and lifted her up, kicking the grotty vinyl-covered pouffe he used as a footrest, underneath her, supporting her back and taking some of the strain from her stomach muscles. The respite was wonderful, for a brief few seconds, then the pressure of her torso bearing down on her arms, still tied tight up against her back, created a new torment. Just about everywhere in her body was hurting, no matter what she did.

As Barry had planned.

He drew on his cigarette and flicked the ash into the tray on the coffee table. Ensuring she could see, he blew gently, until the tip turned a whitish-orange, then he rested the heel of his hand on the centre of her chest and rotated it downwards, until she could feel the heat on the underside of her right breast, an inch below the nipple. This’ll teach the little bitch to complain.

"Ever wondered what it feels like to be an ashtray?"

The tiny girl made a quivering squeal, craning her neck unsuccessfully to see precisely what he was doing on her front.

He pushed the point of smouldering tobacco against her skin momentarily and lifted it well clear, so that when she bucked and screamed, she would not be burnt a second time. He took a drag and watched the spectacle. Nice effect, although such marks would take too long to heal for it to be more than just an occasional diversion. Kim's head thrashed from side to side as she yelled in fear and pain. It hurt a lot like the time a wasp had stung her leg at the beach, but this was so much worse because he had done it so deliberately. He finished the remains of the cig and stubbed it out in the ashtray. Leaning over her, he had to raise his voice to be heard over her hysterical sobbing.

"That's just a taste of what to expect if you piss me off any more, bitch! Now I'm going to make your cunt nice and pretty - get rid of the rest of that nasty hair. You want to look your best for Uncle Barry don't you? Want me to think how pretty you look?"

He took hold of the nipple adjacent to the fresh burn and twisted it viciously. Her scream pierced the heavy silence of the living room.

"Yes! Yes!" she croaked frantically, before resuming her breathless crying.

Barry smiled triumphantly. This was proving to be good fun.

By the time he had set out the fresh razor blade and washing-up bowl of water and can of shaving foam from the bathroom, the volume of her sobbing had reduced to a pitiful blubbering. He held the blade so that she could see it - a specialist single-edged one that he used for trimming window gasket.

"I'm gonna be nice to you - this is a brand new blade - should give you a lovely close shave. You'd better keep perfectly still or else I could do you permanent damage."

He ran his finger up her clitoral hood. She bucked and shivered.

"Oh dear - looks like you're gonna be cut up about this of you can't keep that dear little cunt of yours still," chuckled Barry.

He spread a small dollop of foam thinly around her lips and lower belly and then, resting his great hand on her groin for support, deftly angled the blade and pecked away at the sparse hair surrounding her young twat. Barry laid his other hand lightly on her hard stomach, pulled taut by the arching of her back. He could feel her trembling: it made his cock twitch again. The girl whimpered nervously as his blade approached the burn. She sucked in air loudly as it passed over the patch of raw skin. He rinsed the blade in the bowl - a few short curls of black hair floated in the soapy scum. His face was inches from her pussy as he conscientiously removed every last trace of pubic hair, then wiped the residue foam from her skin. He could smell her warm, slightly musky odour. It was irresistible - he lowered his mouth and licked her smooth, pink inner lips, and nuzzled her clit and lapped his tongue over her exposed flesh. The stronger scent of her cunny competed with the clean pine aroma of the shaving foam. His tongue poked into her gaping vagina. He heard a muffled whimper and licked harder.

Ugh! This was so wrong – he was actually licking her, well, you know, down there - she groaned and cried for him to stop. Stop! She was too young for that sort of thing!

The trouble was that after all the waves of pain and the nagging ache in her limbs and the bite of the cord around her arms and ankles and the smarting hurt of the burns on her pussy and breast and the throb of her head and the soreness in her throat from all the screaming and crying, this actually felt rather good. Guiltily wonderful to tell the truth. She could sense every motion of his tongue across her most private places, feel the wet warmth. It sent tingles up and down her tummy. She despised herself for liking it.

Barry's hand stroked the cool, soft skin of her flat stomach, tracing the fine valley of tight muscle that ran up to the base of her ribcage, and skipping around her neat little belly button.

He ventured up her body, reaching over and down to play with her hard little nipples.

And his tongue and mouth still slithered and lapped her delicate, glossy young cunt.

At fucking last, the bitch had stopped snivelling. She was stiff and shivering and catching her breath in staccato gasps that made him even hornier.

Just enough to tease her, he thought. It was not what he had expected: after all he had done to her, this twelve-year-old slut was actually getting off on having his tongue on her baby cunt. Genuinely. She couldn’t help herself. That would never do. And so the moment he saw her eyes glaze and close, and he sensed she was experiencing proper grown-up sexual pleasure, he stood up and laughed.

"You dirty little slut, Kimberley. Shoving your cunt in my face and getting all randy like that! What would your mother say if she knew what you've been doing?"

Kim's face flushed with shame and anger. And frustration.

"I think you'd better have a cold shower," continued Barry, picking at the knots around her ankles. He swore when he saw the red abrasions where the cord had dug into her legs - it would heal soon enough but she had better not take off her socks in public for a few days. She was so stiff and weak that he had to lift her bodily, to stand her upright. Her head flopped and she moaned as her strained muscles protested. Kim's eyelids drooped and her exhausted expression implored him to stop tormenting her, to let her be.

Fat chance, you little slag - there's more to come.

Including me, he grinned to himself.

The cord around her arms also left deep, pink grooves in the softness of her upper arms, but at least the skin wasn’t broken and the telltale marks would soon disappear, he judged. The pathetic child was swaying unsteadily, massaging some circulation back into her arms and grimacing each time she moved her aching shoulders. So small, so vulnerable. And a joy to behold when she was screaming in pain.

He pushed her into the bathroom, dumping her in a heap in the bath and turning the cold tap full on. The shower head coughed and dispensed an icy stream, drenching the young girl's face and hair and shoulders. She squealed until Barry barked a chilling, "Shut the fuck up, bitch!"

He pulled her to her feet and instructed her to turn slowly under the relentless torrent of freezing water.

"Stop!" he ordered after she was thoroughly soaked and was quivering with cold. "Put your foot up on the edge of the bath."

Even the simple act of lifting her leg was painful.

Barry held out a plastic mug, from which he had emptied the toothbrushes into the washbasin.

"Pee in that."

There was absolute horror in her big brown eyes. No. Please, no. She couldn't do that. Not like this. Not with that pig watching her.

The large man drew himself menacingly to his full height and shot her a chilling glance. Tearfully, Kim put the cup between her legs and willed her bladder to get it over with.

Unfortunately, it seemed to conspire with 'Uncle' Barry, to prolong her degradation. A short spurt erupted from her urethra and some splashed her hand before she could get the cup in the right place. The cold water was running from her hair into her eyes, and it was hard to see. She blinked and another brief trickle of pale urine dribbled into the plastic mug.

"For fuck's sake," sneered Barry, "how fuckin' difficult is that? Open your leg wider and give me a full cup."

No matter how hard she tried to squeeze her innards, just a couple of drops oozed out and dribbled down her cunt. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of the icy water, and the chill in her aching body. She could feel her goose pimples tingling. She shivered. Yes - thank God! And a flow of hot, steamy piss burst out of her.

Barry seemed happy enough with the just over half-full mug. She lifted her eyes, acutely embarrassed, not sure what to do.

"Good," commented the horrible man, taking the warm cup from her. "You took your time, but got there in the end. Now look up at the ceiling - go on, properly, tilt your head back."

Before she realised what was happening, she felt the hot splash on her cheeks. She had no time to react. He poured the cup over her entire face. Against the constant numbing needles of cold water, her own urine was so hot. He could feel the tingling warmth as it trickled down her chilly body, losing track as it cooled and mingled with the shower water, before it reached her legs.

Kim coughed and spluttered and spat. She wasn't sure how much had gone in her mouth and up her nose. Barry giggled.

"Good for the complexion, I understand," he informed her. "Now get busy with the soap; I want you out of there in two minutes."

---

Kim took longer, but 'Uncle' Barry didn't seem to notice. He was back on the sofa, with his work bag open in front of him. She had been twisting in front of the bathroom mirror, miserably taking stock of the inflamed marks on her bottom and the distinctive thin red lines coiled about her ankles and lower arms. The prolonged drenching had numbed her and although her teeth were still chattering (not just the cold, but the all-pervading sense of despondency); she had some temporary relief from the nagging aches all over. She had dried herself as fast as she could and tiptoed warily back into the living room, wrapped in a damp towel. Without conviction, she tried to persuade herself that her Thursday evening ordeal was almost certainly already over.

She was wrong. Catching her entrance in the corner of his eye, Barry growled fresh instructions.

"Go back and fetch that bottle of baby lotion and lose the towel. And when you come back, I want another can from the fridge."

Kim complied, silently setting both beer and lotion on the coffee table, then standing back, hoping he might ignore her.

Barry cracked the can and downed half, casually looking up and down the scrawny little girl's naked body, still damp and shivering with cold. He couldn't single out what aroused him more: was it the deep fear behind those big dark eyes, or the narrowness of her hips, or the crisp cleft of her newly-shaved little cunt? He definitely preferred it without that stupid hair round it - he wanted to have her as a little girl, not a young woman. Soon. But not before he had listened to her begging for it.

Kim needed to move, to try to restore some circulation and warm up. She clenched her jaws to stop the shuddering of her teeth and wriggled her fingers and toes as surreptitiously as she could. 'Uncle' Barry was making something and she just knew she wasn't going to like it.

He was pleased with his own ingenuity. Take a few feet of offcuts, tape them to the handle of dumpy screwdriver, trim the ends and hey presto! A wicked little flogger. That should warm up her little cunt before he fucked her. Yep - a neat job. He had made the tails from two materials: the finest rubber gasket (for sealing glazing units to frames) and the stiffer PVC sealing strip, which was in figure-of-eight profile and was for draught proofing, so one side was covered in a fine brush material, about a mil deep. Half a dozen lengths of each, tightly bound to the handle with gaffer tape, then trimmed to a uniform 18 inches. Top job, Bazza.

He checked the time. No rush.

"Bring the pouffe over and lie over it."

Kim pushed it closer. A padded cube, about two foot six in each direction, it made a convenient plinth for her body. Once she had lain down, her stomach pressed to the ancient vinyl, legs and arms sticking out parallel to the floor, Barry lifted her legs and bent them back double, so that her heels were touching the tender redness of her bottom. He brought her wrists round behind her back and used a length of rubber gasket to bind her limbs together, so that she was hogtied on top of the pouffe, with her face and open crotch conveniently accessible.

He pushed the pouffe up to the sofa, so that her head was over the seat cushion. So that when he sat with his legs either side of it, and dropped his jeans, all he had to do was lean forward a bit and the girl's mouth was perfectly lined up with his straining cock. The glans was shining wet with pre-cum.

Apart from the Thai masseuse in Bristol, who had once given him weekly sessions for a year in return for a new door and window for her shop, and whose mouth seemed to have a dirty mind of its own, Kim's faltering, delicate, and frightened little blow-jobs were the best of his life. Just looking down over his hairy belly, watching her little face, her soft, hollow cheeks and fine lips gliding up and down his hard cock: magic! Folded up and hogtied, she was so tiny and fragile. Her lovely little body rocked up and down on the pouffe. If he listened carefully, he could hear her laboured breathing, and the tiny wet sounds of her mouth as it slid over the tingling end of his penis. He stroked her damp hair from her forehead, studying the permanent frown of nervous concentration, trying to catch her eye with a mean gloat - he always made her keep her eyes open, but she still kept looking away in shame, unable to face him as she did such a horrible, disgusting thing.

Barry held her head gently and told her to be still, and he eased his cock deep into her mouth. Her throat closed around it and she made stifled, agitated coughing noises, and the air whistling in and out of her nose as she struggled to breathe. He pushed further, the increasing tightness around his glans every bit as intoxicating as Kim's tangible panic when she began to choke. She tried to writhe away, her whole bound body squirming frantically, but he gripped her head to his crotch, pulling it yet more down on him. She was squeaking hysterically. He had such a rush - just a bit longer and she might suffocate.

What an amazing feeling! The tiny girl's life literally in his hands.

Too much! In an instant, he pushed her head off, taking a handful of hair to hold her close to the end of his cock as the first great spurt of cum raced up the shaft and landed in a long string diagonally across her frightened face, from jaw to eyebrow. He clasped the base of his penis and aimed the next pulse at her nose, then her mouth. This was a fucking good one - the semen just pumped and pumped. In her hair, eyebrows, up one nostril, dribbling from her upper lip. Her mouth was open as she gulped in air. He wiped the final drops over her panting chin.

Barry pressed back in the settee and blew out a long, satisfied puff. He had done that. It was all his own work. The red-faced little girl, helpless and gasping on the pouffe, her face streaked with thick, white strands and droplets of his hot cum. Little bitch.

He loped off for a pee and to fetch another beer. She was sniffling when he returned.

There was that cute little cunt again. Taunting and tempting him. Fleshy and smooth and inviting, peeking out from between her bound legs. He needed a while to get his strength back. A video would do the trick.

He set up the tape and turned the pouffe so that the girl faced the TV. She might as well enjoy it too. But first, something to keep her occupied. He fished around in his toolkit. Another screwdriver caught his eye - it was the perfect size and shape, with a bulbous, smooth handle, about an inch and a quarter across at the widest point.

Easing her bottom cheeks apart, he squeezed a generous squirt of baby lotion into her crack. Taking his time, lapping up her pitiful whimpering, he worked the cool balm around her tightly puckered anus, patiently testing and probing it open, until it accepted his finger. This was the first time he had played properly with her arse. Not bad. She was clearly not enjoying this. Which was champion.

Having worked her open for a few minutes, it was time for the handle of the screwdriver. She cried out when he slid it slowly but insistently past her protesting sphincter, which closed about the end, in a slick foam of pink lotion. Holding the business end of the tool, he could work it in and out of her as he watched the video. he loved the way she moaned each time it stretched her anus wide, both in and out.

Kim could not believe how awful it was.

On top of everything, he had nearly killed her by pushing his horrid fat thing right down her throat until she thought she was going to suffocate, then he covered her face with his sticky stuff. It felt horrible, especially now it was going cold on her skin. She could feel the stringy bits pulling at her cheeks she cried out. Because he was tearing her poor little bottom apart. It was foul. It hurt ever so much - he had put something huge and hard inside her and he kept pushing it in and out and every time it went in, it seemed as if her bottom was ripping open. It made her want to wee, but she daren't. Not now. He would kill her. She winced again as the knob end of the screwdriver forced further into her rectum. There was something dirty on the tele too, but she didn't want to watch.

It was a crumb of comfort, a tiny victory. Kim couldn't shut out the sounds of frenetic copulation and the corny dialogue, but she screwed her eyes shut - that pig Barry was too busy tormenting her sore bottom to notice that she wasn't watching what those men were doing to the woman with the big breasts.

"Please stop, Uncle Barry. You're really hurting me," she asked very quietly, during a lull in the video.

He did stop.

Long enough to deliver a swingeing smack to the side of her thigh.

"Shut the fuck up, you little bitch. You do what I want you to do and like it. If I want to play with your sweet little arse, I will. And if I hear another peep out of you, you'll wish you'd never been born."

Kim almost wished that already.

The sting of his hand on her leg took her mind off the dreadful sensations in her back passage. Her rectum and anus had dilated to a point where the screwdriver slipped in and out quite easily. By the time the video ended, and the actress's face had suffered the same fate as Kim's, Barry was both bored with poking her arse, and getting horny enough for the last phase of the evening's entertainment.

He left it up her for the time being. Like a dog's cock knot, it was shaped to resist expulsion.

Untying the gasket, he unfolded her aching limbs, and the small girl fell limp over the pouffe, feet and hands drooping to the threadbare carpet. She desperately wanted to wipe the drying spunk from her face, but it wasn't worth provoking Barry again. Her bum was so very tempting - her hard little cheeks stood proud and dimpled and red and begged for even more punishment. The metal shaft of the screwdriver protruded strangely from between her cheeks. He wiggled it round and up and down and she made a wonderful, breathy, little-girl moan that had his cock thickening and straining in his pants.

"Beer," he ordered.

The sight of her shuffling painfully to the kitchen was just great - she kept her knees together and clenched her teeth so as not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her discomfort. Her rectum felt fit to burst and each step caused the handle to press against another area of distended membrane within her little body.

He made her pull it out herself, squatting wide-legged in front of him on the coffee table.

Her face was smeared with crusty cum. It needed washing. He finished his beer, and wordlessly took her arm and led her into the bathroom, guiding her to crouch in the bath as before. She expected him to douse her with cold water again, but instead, he dropped his jeans and aimed his cock right at her face. No! She shook her head, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

"Move and I'll thrash you," growled 'Uncle' Barry, "Sit still and I'll wash off all that lovely cum I gave you."

He pointed his penis and held it inches from her face. Just before he let loose a torrent of hot, beery piss, he added.

"Open your mouth and keep your eyes open. Close either and there'll be trouble."

The hard, smelly stream splattered on her cheek. He adjusted his aim, filling her slack mouth. To give Kim her due, she did try to obey, but the explosion of acrid liquid in her face sent stinging drops into her eyes and she blinked constantly. Her mouth was full of the stuff. Some splashed up her nose. She choked and spat it all out.

"You fucking little cunt!" yelled Barry, apoplectic. "Get your mouth back here and I want to see you swallowing it!"

Thankfully he had almost finished. He managed to deliver half a mouthful and to ensure she complied with his wishes, he pinched her damp nose and pushed her chin up and she had to force the hot, foul liquid down her gullet quickly in order to gulp in some air. Her mouth tasted greasy and salty. Barry was shaking the last droplets over her head when she suddenly retched, turned and began emptying the contents of her stomach into the bath beside her.

He turned on the cold water again.

"Make sure you're clean when you come back," he sneered. "And brush your fucking teeth."

---

When she hadn't reappeared after ten minutes, Barry lost patience. He was ready to try out his homemade flogger. And of course she still needed to be fucked.

He found the little girl curled up, still wet, on the lino in the bathroom. Her small body was shaking with the force of uncontrollable sobbing, and she was clutching a towel to her mouth.

So touching. He watched.

After a full three minutes, she turned her face towards him. Her eyes were red and her cheeks glossy with tears, and her nose was snotty, despite the towel. Her voice was so thin and reedy. Little girly.

"Please, Uncle Barry, I can't take any more. I don't know why you want to hurt me. I'm sorry if I've done anything wrong. Please tell me what I did and I'll never do it again, I promise. Just don't hurt me any more. Please?"

He surveyed the miserable child, squirming at his feet. Beyond her wet, pleading face, he could see the shallow points of her tiny tits and the firm line of her tummy. Her slim legs and the marks around her ankles. She was his toy. She had more to give him tonight. Unmoved by her pitiful pleading, his lust prevailed.

"Kimberley," he spoke quietly, crouching so that his head was almost level with her face. "I'm going back into the living room to finish my beer. If you haven't joined me, all nice and dry and clean and without any more tears, by the time I put my can in the bin, I shall come in here and I'll use you as a punchbag. You are trying my patience. Do you understand, Kimberley?"

She spluttered a sob and nodded, a fresh tear cascading from the corner of her eye.

When she crept apologetically round the door, he was bouncing the flogger in his hand. Unbidden, she approached, her gaze fixed in horror at the vicious-looking device.

Barry was as nice as pie.

He gestured to her to come over and sit on his lap. He put his arm around her and gave her a friendly, reassuring cuddle. He smoothed her hair and stroked her bare shoulder affectionately, with his spare hand.

Then he laid the flogger over her thighs.

"What do you think?" he asked, proudly indicating the wicked contraption.

"I, er."

Kim was unsure what to say. She felt exhausted and ached all over and being curled up naked against beery Barry was the last thing she needed. Except impossible questions. But 'Uncle' Barry wasn't really expecting a cogent reply.

"It's for punishing naughty girls," he explained softly. "I'm hoping it will be as painful as it looks. Just imagine: those long straggly bits snapping down on to soft young skin. Ooo, I bet they would sting. What do you think - do you think they would sting, Kimberley?"

She nodded, very warily. Please, God. No.

Barry continued, evenly.

"The thing is, I don't know of any naughty little girls round here. I mean, there's you of course, but you're good for your Uncle Barry, aren't you? You do what he says and keep your mouth shut don't you?"

Kim took the hint.

"Yes," she whispered, desperately trying to hold back the quiver in her voice and the frightened tear forming in her eye.

"You see, if you were naughty: say, for example, you told your Mum about our special time together, or you broke a promise to me, then you would have to be punished wouldn't you? You'd have to learn how painful this thing really is. That's only fair isn't it, Kimberley?"

She found herself being trapped by his words, but there was nothing she could do but meekly nod and agree with him.

He jiggled the flogger up and down. The lengths of rubber tickled her legs, and the stiffer strands of narrow PVC-backed brush scraped her tender thigh. She shuffled on his lap. His thing was hard inside his jeans. He leaned over her more closely and her nose wrinkled at the smell of beer and fags on his breath.

"You're a very pretty little girl, Kimberley. And when you take off your clothes and snuggle up to me like this, I get the distinct impression that you are trying to make me fancy you. You're not a child any more. You have a nice little body..."

He stroked her nipple.

"...and when you insist on teasing me, like you did earlier, playing with my cock and putting it in your mouth, well, like any red-blooded man, I find it impossible to resist. OK, so you're only twelve, but you are obviously desperate for sex and so as a special treat, I'm going to let you ask me to fuck you."

He raised his hand, as if she was going to object. In fact, she was so horrified, she was having trouble thinking at all.

"No, no, Kimberley. It's the least I can do. Better me than some youth behind the bike sheds at school. All you have to do is ask nicely."

He paused.

"But before I do you such a great big favour, whilst you're thinking about what you're going to ask me, I wonder if you'd do a small favour for me?"

He peered into her stunned face. What to say?

"Yes, of course," she blurted out, instantly regretting it - she knew she was out of her depth already.

Barry smiled and lifted the flogger up in front of her.

"Just for a few minutes, until you pop your cheeky question, you little minx, I would like to try this out. Now I know you haven't been naughty, so I won't be rough, but you see, I spent so long making this; I really do want to see if it works."

Before she could react, he made to stand up, sliding her off his lap, but maintaining a firm grip around her wrist. He ran his hand over her bottom, the tail brushing the backs of her legs.

"Mmm, still rather sore," he observed sarcastically, "I think we'd better try it somewhere else."

He turned her and rubbed the handle over her small breasts. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear.

"No. Not there. And besides, that burn still looks very nasty."

The handle crept down her tummy. Kim looked petrified. But Barry shook his head. Then he moved it slowly down further, pressing it against her labia. The small girl's mouth opened involuntarily. For a few moments, Barry savoured her distress, loving the fear in her cute little face, pale now that any last colour had drained away. He shook his head again.

"No, that wouldn't be very nice, if you're going to ask me your favour," he grinned.

Suddenly, he dropped the flogger and seized her about the waist. He lifted her up and turned her upside down in his hands - she was little more than a doll against his huge body. Deftly, he set her down on the sofa, with her head and shoulders bent at right angles to her body, resting on the seat and her bottom pressed against the back cushion. Her legs flailed in the air directly above her. He took her knees and lowered them until they were almost horizontal, and she was more or less doing the splits, upside down. She grunted - the air was squeezed out of her, and the tension in the muscles of her groin was painful. Now Barry picked up the flogger and was stroking it along the skin of her inner thighs.

“Now here would do. Nice and soft and unmarked, but it might sting a bit.”

He listened to the little girl’s breathing: even her little gasps seemed to plead with him.

By contrast, her scream was quite ear-piercing and totally uncontrolled.

The blow had been harder than he had intended, and closer to her yawning little cunt, but sod that – it was worth it just to hear that girly yell. Music to his ears. A sudden, high-pitched whine, part spoken, part instinctive and very loud. Imploring him to stop. Venting the instant agony as the strands bit down into the soft, white skin. Releasing the tension he had worked to build up in her fuckable little body.

The initial yell eventually dissolved into a pained, undulating whine.

He leaned down and licked the darkening marks as they developed into sharper focus on her pale leg. Her pussy beckoned under his cheek. He could smell it. He tasted it, sliding his tongue inside her labia, then lapping up and down the exposed flesh between her clit and her vagina.

Then he stood up and thrashed the other thigh.

The flogger worked. As designed. He was a true craftsman.

Being upside down made it even worse. The blood filled Kim’s head. Her neck ached from being bent under her own weight. And then when he hit her, it was as if a bolt of lightning had struck her – everything went brilliant white, and she had the instant sense of intense heat in her thigh, as if someone had turned a flamethrower on her, or a laser was melting her flesh. Her groin muscles, already straining and complaining, tightened out of instinct but the heaviness of her unsupported legs, flailing out to the side above her, battled against them, giving her instant cramp, which overpowered her senses. She screamed and the rawness in her throat taunted her. She had to speak. She couldn’t take any more of that.

It was grotesque.

Now he was licking between her legs. He had just hit her with that ghastly thing he had made, and now the pig was putting his tongue there. Right there! Go away you bastard! If only she dared say it out loud.

Stop it. It’s making me tingle and that’s dirty. Get off me you fat slob. Just there. More; there. Oh yes. No! I mustn’t. How could I? Oh my God, what is he doing to me? One minute she was drowning in a fog of utter agony, the next she was fighting her shame as her treacherous tummy burned with forbidden yearning.

Barry had sensed something the first time he licked her and when he lowered his face to her crotch after the second blow from the flogger, and she fell silent a bit too quickly, he realised he was on to something. The fabled pleasure and pain syndrome. This was just too good to be true. He teased her vagina with the point of his tongue. Pushed it hard against her miniscule clit and bore down, squeezing the flatness of it over the hot bump, wiggling around in circles. She moaned, and it wasn’t entirely due to the pain in her aching little body.

He toyed with her, sometimes lifting his head and watching, other times standing right up and dangling the flogger over her, letting the straggly fronds of plastic and rubber caress the fresh weals on the inside of each thigh.

But each time, he would stoop and taste her delicate, moist softness.

“Kimberley,” he murmured very softly, his mouth poised over her ripening pussy. “Didn’t you want to ask me a big favour, or should I see what happens when I use the flogger somewhere really sensitive?”

The twelve-year-old couldn’t cope. Her emotions and senses were overloaded. The hurt, the impossible dilemma, the inexplicably nice sensations that refused to go away. She really couldn’t bear to have him hit her any more. He was bound to do it to her anyway. She just needed the courage to say the stupid words, even though she was sentencing herself. And if it made it over sooner, and she could climb into her own bed and hid under the sheets and get away from him…

“Uncle Barry?” She was even more like a little child, her voice so weak and croaky.

“Yes, Kimberley.”

Barry was loving it. He could hardly stop himself laughing out loud.

“Would you, please, do it to me?”

With put-on shock, Barry milked the moment. “I beg your pardon, young lady – what do you mean?”

Close to tears: “Please put your thing inside me.”

He made her lead him to her bedroom. She was disgusted with herself. Her heart was pounding. Her thighs stung mercilessly – she had to walk carefully to keep them from chafing. Inside, she was hot. Between her legs, she could feel the wet, and it wasn’t all from Barry’s mouth.

“Ask me again,” ordered Barry.

They were in her own bedroom, her own damned room and he was making her beg for it! Kim’s shame was complete. She muttered sotto voce.

“Put it in me.”

He guided her to the bed.

“No. Can’t hear you, Kimberley. Did you say ‘Please, Uncle Barry, give me a good hard fuck?’”

He held her arms, staring into her exhausted face. She was about to explode: the hurt, the destruction of her self-esteem, the total subjugation - it was more than she could stand. Go on then, bitch. Just try it.

“Please, Uncle Barry,” she spluttered, choking on her words, “please give me a good, hard... fuck.”

Thank you, God. Bazza gets another notch on his pecker. Here we go. The first of many, if she’s any good.

She lay on her back. Was that right? What happens next? She looked up at ‘Uncle’ Barry, who had stripped naked. She could see all of his horrid great hairy body. His big red cock flapped stiffly around under his belly. As he knelt upright on the bed between her legs, his face was set in a lecherous, triumphant gloat. Without warning, he lifted her legs into the air and shuffled his knees under her thighs, tugging at the raw skin where he had flogged her and making her eyes water.

He could swear that the little bitch’s cunt was begging for it. All pink and a bit puffy and shiny wet. Nice and steady. He pulled her open, to check his bearings, get his prick poised against that sticky little hole. Fuck, she’s tight. Bit more. Lean forward. Just look at the fear in that lovely little face.

Result!