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From: Azil <azil@my-deja.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} My Reward, Ch55 (MC,MF,Mf11)
Date: Thu, 12 Oct 2000 11:10:04 -0400
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My Reward
By Azil
Copyright 1998-2000


Disclaimers:

This is a work of fiction. No character is meant to resemble any
specific person, living or dead.

Sexual actions of various types will be depicted in this story. This
does not mean that the author approves of these actions, has ever
performed any of them, or would perform them if given the opportunity.
(Nor does it mean that he doesn't, hasn't, and/or wouldn't).

This is inappropriate reading material for minors. In many jurisdictions
it may be illegal for minors to read it, or for adults to make it
available for minors to read. The author urges you not to disobey these
laws. Even if it isn't illegal where you are, keep it away from kids
anyway.


CHAPTER 55: CALLED INTO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE

The next couple weeks were comparatively quiet, so perhaps this is an
opportunity to bring you up to date on developments on other fronts.

I had ceased actively tormenting Sarah. Terrible as it had been for her
to try to blackmail Ashley, I decided finally that she had been
sufficiently punished. But not before putting her through hell.

After her interlude with Rodney, the school nerd, I made sure that he
talked about it all over the school, and had the principal announce it
on the school PA system, right after the notice about the Chess Club
meeting, and just before news about the car wash to raise money for the
band's trip to San Francisco.  At the next break, I had them walk
hand-in-hand through the halls. It was a beautifully mortifying
experience for Sarah.

For a while, I had made her totally without sexual feeling, but driven
to have sex - thus fucking endlessly but feeling nothing out of it. I
had turned that around one day and caused her to have orgasms every five
minutes throughout the day. I had caused her to be endlessly on the edge
of orgasm, but unable to achieve it - when she would reach into her
pussy to stroke herself, her fingers disappeared.

I also tortured her in small, nonsexual ways. One day when her car was
being repaired, I made the laughing suggestion that she ride a bike. Her
look of horror at this led me of course to send her to school on a 1957
Schwinn, complete with basket on the front, a bell, a broken headlight,
a slightly bent rear wheel, and a loose seat. Unfortunately, the kids at
her school decided it was deliciously retro, and all I accomplished was
a run on bikes at thrift stores all over the Valley. Another of my great
ideas that backfired.

Ultimately, of course, I was forced to recognize that, as my daughter,
much of Sarah's nastiness was my own fault, and I dropped all the
punishments. I left her with only two after-effects of the experience: I
put a control on her that she couldn't hurt Ashley, and I let her
remember, not the details of her humiliation, but the fact that I had
brought her down - so that she wouldn't do the same thing again.

Chris seemed to be enjoying her visits to her shrink. I met Dr. Kristin
Martin only once and was a bit uncomfortable with her. Based on the
waiting room literature, she appeared to be a bit more of an aggressive
feminist than I'm comfortable with, and her attitude to me was decidedly
cool. But she was Chris's doctor, not mine, and I was prepared to wait
to see the results before making a judgment. Thus far there had been no
noticeable results, but I had not expected any so quickly.

I dropped the plans to have Thomas fuck every fourteen year old girl in
Phoenix, although I had fun with the mental image of a mile-long line
outside our house, with Chris and Sarah yelling "Take a number!" at
everybody. I had screwed up the kid enough for now, and decided to just
leave him alone for a while - although I also amused myself with the
concept of bringing in Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera to have a
little threesome with him.

Now that Tom O'Malley and Ashley were allowed to be openly an item, they
were having a great time dating - Tom got a real kick out of going to
high school dances and parties (despite the music), and Ashley loved the
envious looks she captured on her classmates' faces. I'll fill you in a
bit more on this later.

Things were quiet in the Mallory Empire, where my benevolent
dictatorship had now spread over dozens of islands, and my benevolent
dick (sorry, I couldn't resist) had spawned a population explosion that
necessitated dozens of islands to contain it (okay, a bit of an
exaggeration, but there were LOTS of kids). My other lives in other
times were progressing equally well.

Beth was having a blast with her church, which gave her all sorts of new
ideas for weirdness. One unexpected result was that FuckMart opened a
Religious Supplies department. It featured such items as rosaries
consisting of beads intended to be inserted in the anus and connected to
a dildo in the place of a crucifix, nun's habits with the back cut away
for easy rear entry, and books such as "Lives of the Sluts" and the
"Ballsomemore Catechism".

My Church of the Sacred Penis was doing well, too, with my flock
worshipping regularly at the priapic altar. Sharon was enjoying her
status as senior wife, while Wendy glowed with the joy of pregnancy (and
managed to step up her wanton behavior to new levels, something I would
have considered impossible). Val and Cassie were having a great time
being newlyweds, cuddling together on the couch every night - Cassie was
getting cuter as she got rounder.

The only negative in my life at this point was Elizabeth. Little Bit was
mad, and she wasn't one to make a secret of her feelings. I had figured
she'd get over her anger, and I made a few approaches to her, trying to
appease her with pussy licks and sixty-nining. But she was not to be so
easily bought off, and Sharon didn't let up on me either.

I have no doubt that eventually, as Beth predicted, I would have given
in, but the matter was brought to a head a few days before Thanksgiving.

The occasion was the mandatory fall parent-teacher conferences. The
previous week we had gotten a note informing us we were scheduled for
our meeting on Monday evening. Expecting little beyond, "Elizabeth is a
fine girl and we're so pleased with her progress other than a little
trouble with math do you have any questions thank you for coming," I
came home from work early and Sharon and I headed for the school.

(In case you were wondering, after Sharon's former husband had seen that
he wasn't going to starve her into submission, he had started harassing
her in other ways. I finally tired of him and had Reward put his company
into bankruptcy and find him a new job in Minnesota, from whence he is
seldom heard any more).

The meeting started pretty much as expected. Sister Jean, a middle-aged
nun who wore mostly conservative civvies other than a short scarf-like
veil, went over Elizabeth's report card with us. We discussed her math
problems, and then we listened to what a charming, young lady she was.

And then, instead of "Thank you for coming tonight," the sentence after
"charming young girl" began with, "There's just one other thing I need
to discuss with you."

Sister Jean frowned a bit in thought as she paused, then smiled to put
us at ease.

"I'm always reluctant, of course," she began hesitantly, "to discuss
matters involving a student's home life, but there are times when it's
necessary, so I'll just get right into it - it will be easier if we're
direct about this."

She smiled again in a way that told me that I wasn't expected to like
what I was about to hear. I glanced inquiringly at Sharon, who looked
worried.

"As I'm sure you are aware," she went on, "the children talk among
themselves about things that happen at home, and sometimes we overhear
things we're not supposed to." She smiled deprecatingly. "Most of these
things are trivial, but sometimes we hear something that concerns us,
and we feel obligated to ask a few questions."

Sharon's voice trembled a bit as she asked, "You've heard something
disturbing about our home?"

"What I heard," the nun answered, turning to speak to me, "and what
concerns me so much, is that Elizabeth says that you have flatly refused
to take her virginity. Is that true, Mr. Mallory?"

I must report that the nun did not say this in an accusatory manner. Her
face radiated Christian concern about my failings.

I didn't quite know how to answer, but Sharon didn't hesitate. "I'm
afraid it is true, Sister."

Sister Jean looked very sad about having had her fears confirmed.

"Mister Mallory," she said softly, "I know you don't want to hurt
Elizabeth, but she's at a very difficult time in her life. It's always
so difficult when there's a divorce and remarriage," she sighed, "and
when the girl's father, as I understand it, is almost entirely out of
her life." She looked for confirmation to Sharon, who nodded.

"You're the father-figure in her life," she said, succeeding at making
me feel very guilty for my failure to adequately fill that role, "and as
such she looks to you for affirmation of her growth into puberty and of
her sexual desirability.  At present she's not receiving it, and it
leaves her with very conflicted feelings - both about you and about
herself."

Now, having made me feel like a total worm, Sister Jean switched gears.
"You are Penisites, aren't you?" she asked.

Sharon and I both nodded.

"I just asked because I wanted to be sure there was no religious reason
- some religions disapprove of sex with children," she noted, "but that
isn't the case with Penisism, I don't believe. It's rather encouraged,
isn't it?"

Sharon nodded, looking over at me rather smugly.

"Elizabeth has told us about some of the home orgies you've had
recently," she smiled. "They sound like fun. But again," she went on,
"she tells us that you fuck everybody but her - you can imagine how that
makes her feel."

Sharon shot another nasty look at me, as I sunk into my chair.

"How many wives do you have, Mr. Mallory?" the nun asked.

"Four," I lied.

"And two of them are pregnant," the nun noted, "Cassie and one of your
other wives." She smiled. "Big families are so nice, and we see so few
of them these days. I really commend you," she added, apparently feeling
she had pounded me enough and now wanted to back off a bit.

"It just seems to make it even more difficult that you're married to
Cassie - you know what sibling rivalries are like. And especially since
Cassie is pregnant - such a lovely little belly on that girl, she's due
in April, isn't she?" she added as an aside. "As it gets closer you'll
have to discuss with her teachers how you'll keep her up to date on her
school work."

She didn't follow up the marriage angle any further, but her drift was
clear.

She folded her hands on the desk, adopting a pose that told me she was
getting down to the real core of the thing. "Now, legally of course
we're required to report all cases of suspected child abuse. I'm not
really certain about whether a father refusing to fuck his daughter
falls into that category, but where it appears to be causing the child
such distress, it may be necessary to notify the Department of Family
Services if it were to continue."

She paused, the threat left hanging in the air. Sharon assured her that
the situation would be dealt with promptly.

Sister smiled and thanked us, the tough job completed. "Do you think
you'll be getting her pregnant soon? I know she'd love that - nobody
else in her class is pregnant, and of course there's the sibling rivalry
issue, as we discussed."

She smiled understandingly as Sharon said that Little Bit's periods
hadn't begun yet. "Well, of course, we have to wait for things on God's
schedule then, but I'd recommend a pregnancy as soon as possible."

I'll give Sharon credit; she managed to wait all the way to the car
before jumping me. But after that the I-told-you-so's and the
none-of-this-would-have-happened-if-you'd-listened-to-me's and the
see-what-a-mess-you've-made's continued all the way home. I didn't even
bother to say that I'd marry Little Bit ASAP - it was a given.

Since I was busy saying, "Yes, dear" to Sharon, I waited until we were
home to put a pause on things and ask Reward what the hell had happened.
I could, of course, have stopped the nun at any point, but the thing was
so surreal that I was initially stunned, and then amused, and finally
anxious to see how it came out. But now I wanted an explanation - how
could a nun threaten to report me for not being a child molester?

He began, rather defensively, by pointing out that I made things rather
difficult on him by wanting the world to go on in an ordinary way, while
my family and I behaved in rather extraordinary ways. The way Reward
bridged the gap, it seemed, was to make minimal changes in the thinking
of those people who came in contact with my family members.

Thus, when Little Bit told her friends at school about a weekend orgy,
it would register on any listeners as no more remarkable than having a
clown at a kid's birthday party. When Cassie announced her pregnancy, it
seemed an ordinary rite of passage, equivalent to a girl's first period.
And when Little Bit whined that her stepfather was cruel because he
wouldn't fuck her, it struck the nun as an issue that needed resolution
at the earliest opportunity.

Reward assured me that the nun was otherwise unaffected - that she would
for example react in horror, and immediately be on the phone to DFS, if
any other student mentioned "inappropriate touching", or whatever the
term is, by a relative.

I wondered briefly about the ripple effects of this. I can see for
example the mother of another student talking with the nun as Cassie
walked by, and mentioning that "Cassie Prince is certainly putting on
weight," to which the nun would reply, "Oh no, she's pregnant; and her
name is Mallory now - she's married to her stepfather."

And then the mother asks her hairstylist, "What's a good baby shower
present for a fourteen-year-old? One of my daughter's classmates is
pregnant." To which the beautician responds, "Isn't that nice? I think
girls are so cute when they get knocked up at that age. Buy her diapers
- you can never have too many."

The possibilities were endless. But I shook off the thoughts - as long
as Reward was handling it, I figured, it wasn't something I needed to
worry about.

The more immediate concern was Little Bit. I had told myself I wasn't
going to have sex with her, but I'd been steadily weakening. Beth had
bet I'd marry her by Thanksgiving, and it looked like she was right. I
could keep stalling, but I knew as well as Beth did that I was going to
give in to temptation sooner or later. And in that case it might as well
be sooner.

So when I finished talking with Reward and unfroze everybody, Sharon
made me go into the family room, where Little Bit was watching TV. I did
the job right, getting down on my knees in front of the couch where she
was sitting (which still left me at eye-level), taking her hand in mine,
and asking if she would consent to be my bride.

Elizabeth's reaction was to shout with glee, give me a big kiss, fall
back on the couch, pull down her shorts, spread her legs, and holler,
"Come on, fuck me!"

Sharon felt that this was an inappropriate response to a marriage
proposal and told Little Bit that it was time to go to bed - alone - and
that they'd plan the wedding the next morning.

Sharon decided on a Thanksgiving wedding (we never wasted time in our
household, and with Reward to do all the work, why should we?). She
called the school and told them that Elizabeth would be out for a couple
days getting ready for her wedding - which was fine with the school, of
course.

Having been through three weddings (or a wedding and a double wedding)
in the past few weeks, I decided to put in a couple variations. The
family orgy having been done, I thought we'd be more traditional and
have an actual honeymoon. So I had Reward put the idea into Sharon's and
Elizabeth's heads, and when they came home from shopping Tuesday
evening, they informed me that after the ceremony we would have a combo
wedding banquet / Thanksgiving dinner, and then Little Bit and I would
go to Disneyland for our honeymoon. There may be more romantic spots,
but not if you're eleven, I guess.

So Thursday morning dawned to the confusion of last minute preparations.
Since Sharon wanted me out of the way, I stayed in bed late getting a
couple pre-nuptial blowjobs from the bride's sister. So I was well
primed when Sharon came upstairs to tell us that everything was on
schedule. She was upset with Cassie for not being ready, and sent her
off to get dressed.

Feeling deprived, I pointed out that chasing off Cassie had left me with
a hard-on and nowhere to put it. Sharon laughed that I should save it
for the bride, and urged me to get dressed, meanwhile doing as she
preached, peeling off her shorts and blouse preparatory to putting on
her new dress.

I came up behind her as the blouse dropped to the floor, reaching around
to cup her full, heavy breasts. "I can put a little something in the
mother of the bride and still have plenty left for Elizabeth," I said.

"Tom, we don't have time," she said, but made no move to stop me. I
squeezed her breasts and she leaned back against me.

We cuddled like that for a moment; I held her tight, caressing her
breasts and kissing her neck. "I'm not as young as all the rest of
them," she said out of the blue.

I didn't know how to answer. "But you fuck as well as ever," I said,
truthfully if unromantically.

She laughed and turned around. "So do me fast," she said, "we're running
late."

We did it fast. I had her bend over and grab the footboard of the bed
(now large enough for six), and slid my cock up into her pussy. I went
slowly for the first few strokes, before getting into a good rhythm.
Then I grabbed her ass and began stroking into her hard.

We were interrupted once when Wendy came in, looking for her shoes -
which upset our rhythm for a second. Wendy asked if we needed any help,
but Sharon assured her we were doing fine. We got back to a good, steady
beat as Wendy left and a few moments later I shot into her.

Then we got dressed. As we were going down the stairs, I in my tux, as
Sharon and Little Bit had insisted, Sharon in a beautiful light blue
designer something, she stopped me briefly to speak softly: "You take
good care of our little girl," she told me, looking like she was on the
verge of tears.

When I was in the living room, Elizabeth followed down the stairs. She
was in a perfect replica, size zero I suppose, of the wedding dress
Audrey Hepburn wore in "Funny Face". I can't describe such things - it
was white and it had a veil - but it was beautiful, and she was as cute
and as desirable as anything I've ever seen in my life.

The wedding went pretty much according to form - or at least according
to Church of the Sacred Penis form. It opened with "Oh Promise Me",
which had a few small variations ("Oh promise me, that you'll take my
hand," became . . . well, you can guess).

Then we made our mutual pledges to each other, in CSP tradition: "I
pledge to worship and serve this sacred penis in every way, to love it
and please it, and to welcome it into every part of my body, so help me
god," swore Little Bit. To which I replied, placing my hand on her head
as she knelt before me, "I consecrate you and accept you as my wife and
as a worthy receptacle for my penis. I pledge to fuck you frequently and
to fill your belly with children. You may now suck the sacred penis."

Sharon, Little Bit, and I had agreed that the Blessed Trifecta could be
performed on the honeymoon, but we felt that at least a blowjob was
essential to a Penisite wedding, and Little Bit did the job right,
opening my pants and sucking the head of my cock into her lovely little
mouth. Sharon had let her wear make-up for the first time on the
occasion of her wedding, and the lovely, deep-red lips stretched around
my cock were a gloriously erotic sight.

Elizabeth had apparently been getting instructions from my other wives
for the past few days, because her cocksucking had improved
dramatically. (I later learned that this was the case - all the others
had been giving her lessons on cocksucking and everything else).
Genetics probably had something to do with it as well - her mother gave
great mouth.

Anyway, Little Bit sucked in more and more of my cock, pulling her jaw
farther and farther open until she had most of it in, and the tip of my
cock nestled against her tonsils (or something down in there). Then she
smiled up at me in triumph, and began slowly moving her head back and
forth, allowing a little of my cock to escape, but then eagerly
reclaiming it.

As the pressure of her lips and the warmth of her mouth had its effect
on me, her tongue began to add to the mix, swirling slowly around the
length of my cock, caressing it lovingly.

Somehow, and I don't think this can be taught - I think it takes
experience or, in Little Bit's case, the instincts of a born courtesan -
she knew when I was about to come. She slowly released my cock and
looked up at me with a teasing look. Then she licked the head of the
cock, looked up at me again, and said, "Fuck my face."

Then the cock was back in her mouth, and she looked up invitingly. I
grabbed her head just behind each ear and pulled her to me as my hips
pushed my cock into her mouth. Then I eased off from her and again
pulled her forward as I stroked between those bright red lips.

I looked down at her beautiful young face, the pretty blue eyes looking
up at me, daring me, urging me to fuck her harder. The blowjob was
great, the view was even better, and I stroked into my little bride's
face just a few more times before going rigid, pulling her head forward
suddenly, and shooting my load deep down her throat.

I came in two or three long, hot spurts, then relaxed and let Elizabeth
loose as I stumbled to a chair. As I sat back, Little Bit climbed up on
my lap and cuddled against me. "Pretty good, huh?" she asked softly.

When I could walk again, we all headed into the dining room and had a
delicious Thanksgiving dinner. I reflected as I struggled with carving
the turkey (something I've never been able to do well, but I figure that
as long as I get the meat off the bone, nobody cares what it looks like)
that here was another of those little benefits of Reward that one often
forgets. The typical Thanksgiving dinner has so many courses that
there's no possibility that they'll all get to the table at the right
time. Either the turkey takes too long and the potatoes get cold and the
rolls burn, or the turkey gets done early and everybody's scrambling to
get all the side-dishes ready. Not a problem with Reward - everything
was right on schedule.

The meal was great, accompanied by much banter and teasing, most of it
directed toward Elizabeth. Cassie, typical of big sisters, was happy to
lead the torment, telling her little sister that, "With your little
hole, in a few hours, you're going to feel as stuffed as the turkey."
But Little Bit held her own, telling Cassie that, "You're the one who
looks stuffed these days."

Seeing things degenerating into a sisterly catfight, Sharon shushed the
girls, so everybody turned on me. Val said they'd never see us again,
"Because once you get into Elizabeth's pussy, you probably won't be able
to get out."

When the meal was complete, Elizabeth and I changed our clothes and then
said goodbye at the door, to more good wishes and jokes. Sharon, as a
typical mother, got all teary in kissing her baby goodbye, and had to
offer some whispered last-minute advice. Then she turned to me. "You've
got three nights over there in California," she said, "and I expect her
to come back well-fucked."

We flew into John Wayne Airport on Reward Airlines, and Elizabeth had
the opportunity to give me another blowjob on the plane. She wanted to
climb on my lap and fuck, but I persuaded her to wait for a bed at the
hotel. I was beginning to realize that this was one of the hottest
little babes I'd ever met up with.

I hadn't made any travel plans, but that was something I'd learned I
could dispense with. Reward conjured up a limo waiting for us at baggage
claim (we got a lot of strange looks when we walked up to the carousel
and our bags immediately popped out, while people on earlier flights
were still waiting).

At the hotel, I asked the desk clerk for a room, the four foot seven
Elizabeth at my side. "Of course," he replied. "I imagine you and your
daughter will want a twin double?"

"Well, she is my daughter," I replied with a smile, "but she's also my
wife. We'd like the Honeymoon Suite."

"Of course," he smiled. "Our congratulations and best wishes."

We thanked him, and as I filled out the registration card, he went on.
"Now, normally we provide complimentary champagne with the Honeymoon
Suite, but I'm afraid Mrs. Mallory is underage . . . ." he said
apologetically.

I assured him that we wouldn't want Disney Corporation to break the
state liquor laws. "We're probably going to be too busy fucking all
night to waste time drinking anyway," I reassured him laughingly, "but
perhaps you could send a meal up in a couple hours."

"Pepperoni pizza," Little Bit chimed in.

The desk clerk said he would take care of it, rang for the bellhop, and
a few minutes later my wife and I were alone in our room.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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