STINGER

BY WALTER JONES

[ part 1 ]

Stephie and Grace laid out their blankets on the green grass and plopped the picnic basket on top. They giggled as they opened the basket and tossed the food out. It was a beautiful day in late August. The mercury was hitting 85 as their mother dozed on the nearby lounge chair in the sun. The girls were dressed in girly pinafores with tiny puffed sleeves and strapped sandels. It started off as a perfect day of cakes and cruellers and chicken legs and fresh fruit.

He stood nearby, hidden by the thick trunk of a white oak tree. He stared at their smooth legs, exposed easily under their summery dresses. He looked at the flawless pink skin of their bare arms. He felt that feeling tingling up between his legs as his erection began to take shape.

Beautiful girls.

He cared little if nothing for their mother, regardless of how pretty she was. Young, but not Young. The girls’ giggling was like music to his ears. With each sound of their young voices, he felt more aroused. They couldn’t have been more than 12, perhaps 11 or even 10. Long blond hair tickled their arms.

Then he saw something curious.

The girls’ playful picnic was suddenly interrupted when Stephie spied a yellow object darting back and forth around their sweet cakes. A scream emerged as Grace began to swing her arms to and fro. The yellow jacket, now angry, zig-zagged excitedly around the girls but did not fly away. Instead, it seemed bent on revenge.

“Stop it!” Stephie screamed. “You’ll get stung!”

The last phrase got the attention of the mother who opened her eyes and shouted at the girls. “Girls, please knock it off!”

Grace was crying, so afraid of stinging creatures, and Stephie was grabbing at her wrists to get her to calm down. Suddenly, the yellow jacket landed for a micro second on Stephie’s soft, pink arm and inserted it’s burning hot stinger into her skin.

“Aaaaaaiiiiii!” Stephie cried, her mouth a large gaping cry. The pain was like liquid fire, and all she could do was cry.

Grace started in shock at her sister, all her fears realized. She almost forgot about her own panic when a seering pain stung her inner thigh. The yellow jacket was not happy unless it had stung both children to its satisfaction.

He watched as the girls cried, one holding her painful arm and the other screaming as she gripped at her thigh. He saw the look of pain and helplessness. A little wasp sting for each of the girls was all it took for his cum to bubble up and spew into his boxers. It took him by surprise. He was unaware that his sexual fantasies could be so sadistic.

That was a month ago. He spent many hours watching the sisters, watching their daily habits, planning. School had not yet started so he had to work fast. He did.

There was that moment of truth, a phone call from a ‘friend’, a ride to their home. No one answered. He was there, waiting. The girls were exceptionally light and he was able to carry them easily to his van. There, they were tied and gagged, finally taken to his basement.

He looked down at them, tied with their little wrists tightly above their heads, side by side on his pullout sofabed. Love those beds. They have perfectly placed metal rails all around them, perfect for attaching rope for tying up cute, little girls like these.

They were stripped bare. Their flat chests raised and lowered to the beat of their hyperventilating. The hairless slits embarrassingly exposed between their legs. The gags on both girls held in their screams. Stephie and Grace, both had gorgeous, long, blond hair. It was splayed so seductively across their pillows.

He moved around them, looking at them, rubbing the erection beneath his pants as he walked. He looked over their bodies licking his lips until he spied something on Grace’s inner thigh. It was faint, but it was the telltale memory of an injury, a bee sting. Then, he was gone for an hour.

The girls tried to remain calm but it was difficult. However, in his absence they managed to doze, partially from exhaustion. It seemed that they both awoke at the same time, still tied tightly in spread-eagle fashion. They tested their bonds but found that, in spite of their sweating wrists, the ropes were tight.

Instantly, they began to panic. He was smiling as he raised his hand. He held a jar. The sisters began screaming in their gags as soon as they saw the flitting yellow thing inside the jar. It flew in the limited space, then landed on the inside of the jar and crawled around, looking for an exit hole. It was pissed.

The girls were terrified and they screamed in their gags. The memory of a fierce sting came back into their minds and, knowing how much it hurt, they were even more afraid.

He put the jar up to his ear and shook it. Faintly, he heard the bussing of an angry hornet.

“I want you to suck on my cock until I cum in your mouth,” he said. “Otherwise, I will attach this jar to your bodies and let the yellow jacket sting you a hundred times.”

The girls screamed again in their gags, trying to pull their arms loose. Their legs squirmed as much as they could but they were unable to pull them loose either. The sisters only partially heard him. They didn’t know what he meant by ‘cum in your mouth’, but they figured it meant he was going to put his penis in their mouth. No problem. Anything but being stung.

He put the jar down and removed his pants. His erection sprang up like a jack in the box. Then, he straddled Stephie, removed her gag and put his cock at her mouth.

“Suck!” he demanded. Stephie sobbed but opened her mouth. He inserted his erection and she began to suck on it like it was a candy. The feeling was incredible, and he moaned, but it wasn’t enough. He began to pump into her mouth. He looked at the girls’ bodies as he pumped. It was ecstatic. Their smooth skin shone like silk in the limited light. He ran his hand down Grace’s long, thin arm and she flinched. It was curious so he did it again and realized that Grace was ticklish. He did it again and again and each time noticed how she reacted when he reached her armpit. Her little armpit was soft and had no trace of hair. He thoroughly disliked hair on a woman and that’s why he preferred the soft, hairless bodies of young girls.

Meanwhile, as he played and tickled Grace, he was growing harder in Stephie’s mouth. Her lips were full and wet and felt so nice.

He decided to play with Stephie’s nipples, so small. He flicked them and pinched them lightly. Then, he tickled Grace’s armpit again and, this time, she actually giggled.

“Oh boy,” he said. “Always a giggly girl, aren’t we? Don’t matter what, can’t help but laugh when girls get tickled.” Then he grabbed her thin ribcage with a crabclaw grip and squeezed her. She squealed and laughed. This was new and exciting for him. Tickling as torture. Sounded like a plan.

He heard a light tapping and his eyes went to the jar that held the yellow jacket. It banged up against the glass and then landed and walked. He thought about the girls being stung that day in the park and then there was no turning back. His cum erupted, powerfully and he spurted shot after shot into her mouth. Stephie did not expect it and didn’t know what it was. She began to gag but he order her not to do that and to swallow every drop. She did, but it was difficult.

Next time: The girls get stung.