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Message-ID: <43500asstr$1058861405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: anais ninja <anais_ninja@hotmail.com>
User-Agent: Xnews/5.04.25
Subject: {ASSM} The Sociopath's Daughter [Part Two] (Mg Fb nc bond caution)
Date: Tue, 22 Jul 2003 04:10:05 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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The Sociopath's Daughter [Part Two] (Mg Fb nc bond caution)

(c) 2003  Anais Ninja
anais_ninja@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/www/


Note: This is the darkest piece I've ever written.  I've done non-
consensual (i.e., rape) scenes before, but this goes past that, stopping 
just short of snuff/torture.  Consider this a warning if you're squicked 
by this sort of thing.


                                  * * *


It was early spring, three months after Will had taken me from my old 
life, when we had our first big fight.  It wasn't a physical altercation 
and there wasn't even a raised voice, but it changed our relationship -- 
and my life -- forever.  Over the past three months, Will had altered his 
life to accommodate my presence in his world.  Now it was my turn.

I'd just come home from a day of shopping and I wanted to show Will a new 
dress I'd bought.  I knocked on the door of his study and walked in.

He was seated in his favorite leather chair, a file folder open in his 
lap.  There were photographs of a girl my age, grainy candid shots taken 
from behind the tinted windows of his van.

"What's that?" I asked him.

"Nothing," he replied, closing the folder.

"You're looking for another girl," I said.  I felt an icy ball forming in 
my tummy and there was a metallic taste in my mouth.  Will started to say 
something but before he could utter a word I bolted from the study, 
running upstairs to our bedroom.  I laid face down on the bed, my head 
buried in a pillow as I cried and cried and cried.

Will came into the room a few minutes later, sitting on the bed next to 
me, stroking my hair and caressing my back.

"You don't want me anymore," I sobbed.

"No, I do," he whispered.  "I do want you, princess."

"Then why?  Why do you need another girl?"

"I don't know," he replied.  "I just do."

"Aren't I enough for you?" I asked, rolling over to face him.  "Don't I 
make you happy?"

"You do, princess," Will said.  "It's just that..."

"Tell me," I pleaded.  "I'll do anything for you.  You can tie me up..."

"It's not the same, Elizabeth.  It just wouldn't be the same."

"I don't understand."

Will leaned over and kissed the trails of tears that flowed down my 
cheeks.  He looked at me, through me, with those hazel eyes.  I could tell 
he was trying to find the right words to explain what he meant.

"It's not about sex or love or anything like that.  I'll always love you.  
You're special.  There's not another girl on the planet like you.  But I 
need to feel the power, the danger, the exhilaration.  I need to assert my 
control on a plaything, to feel her helplessness, to hear her cries, to 
feel her struggle against my will.  Does that make sense to you?"

"I guess."

"You've made me very happy," Will said, kissing my forehead.  "But I need 
to do this.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said.  "But..."

"What?"

"Can I ask a favor?"

"Anything, princess."

"I want to help," I said.  "I want to know what it feels like.  I want to 
know the power and the danger."

"Do you have any idea what you're asking?  Once you step through that 
door..."

"I want to help you."  I sat up and put my arms around him and he embraced 
me, nuzzling my neck and stroking my hair.

"Okay," he said.  "We'll start tomorrow."


It was like hunting, hours spent sitting and waiting for a brief glimpse 
of the prey.  Will had been gathering information on this girl even before 
he snatched me from the train station, so he had a pretty good idea of her 
routine, when she left for school, which bus she took, who her friends 
were, where she hung out and with whom.  He'd already set a date, a day 
when her school had a field day in the park.

"How are you going to do this?" I asked Will.  We'd been sitting in his 
sedan for most of an afternoon, parked outside the girl's school.

"I thought I'd play detective," he said.  "Like I did with you."

"There's going to be a lot of people there," I said.  "Teachers, other 
kids."

"No more than at the station," Will said.  "Do you have a better idea?"

"Yeah, I do.  Let me do it."

"How?"

I explained what I had in mind.  Will laughed when he heard my plan and I 
thought I'd made a fool of myself.

"You don't like it?"

"No, no, no," he said, still chuckling.  "I love it."

"You do?"

"It's perfect."  He leaned over and gave me a kiss.  "You're one in a 
million, princess."

On the morning of the field day we drove to the park in Will's van, 
circling for an hour until a suitable parking space opened up.  We waited 
in the back, out of sight, watching as teachers herded their students into 
the park.  I tried to catch a glimpse of the girl, but she was lost in the 
crowd.  After another hour of waiting, it was time to go to work.

"Nervous?" Will asked me.

"A little."

"Remember what I told you," he said.  "If anything doesn't smell right 
just let it pass.  Don't take any unnecessary chances."

"Okay."

"Good luck," he said, giving me a kiss before he opened the side door.

I waited in a stand of trees, watching the field day activities.  It only 
took a minute to spot the girl.  She seemed to be joined at the hip to two 
of her friends, but after a while she separated herself and went to one of 
the park's bathroom.  This was my chance.  I headed to the low stone 
building that housed the public toilets.

"Excuse me," I said, as she emerged from the ladies room.  My heart was 
beating madly and I tried not to stumble over my lines.

"Can I help you?" she said.

"I'm new here and I'm sort of lost," I said.  "I'm trying to get back to 
the West Side and I can't find the right entrance."  The park was pretty 
big, surrounded by a weathered stone wall, with gates every ten blocks or 
so.

"It's that way," she said, pointing towards a path through the trees.

"Can you show me?"

"Sure," she said, looking around for her friends.  "Come with me."

We walked down the path and I began to relax.  Everything was going as 
planned.

"My name's Pamela," I said.  "What's yours?"

"Darcy," she said.  Of course, I already knew that.  "Which school do you 
go to?"

"McBurnley," I said.

"Oh!  Do you know Cindy Carlson?"

"Not really," I replied.  "We just moved here."

"She's pretty cool," Darcy said.  "Well, here we are."

"Hey, that's my Daddy's van," I said.  "Would you like to meet him?  He'll 
want to thank you for helping me."

"Um, okay."

We walked out of the park to where the van was sitting.  The engine was 
already idling.  I knocked on the sliding door and as soon as it was open 
I pushed Darcy right between the shoulder blades.

"Hey!  Wha..."  she said as she stumbled forward.  Will's hands appeared 
out of the shadows, one grabbing her arm and the other placing a 
chloroform-moistened cloth over her nose and mouth.  Darcy went limp a 
second later.

"Get her feet," he whispered.  I grabbed her ankles and he pulled her in 
to the van.  As soon as I was inside he shut the door and slid into the 
driver's seat, putting the van in gear and pulling out of the parking 
space.  Ten minutes later we were parked in the courtyard of his 
brownstone and I helped Will carry Darcy inside and down to the basement.

We laid her on the bed and removed her clothes, her starched white blouse 
and the pleated burgundy skirt that all of the girls at her school wore.  
Underneath she wore pink cotton briefs and a white satin training bra.  
Darcy had the barest hint of breasts, just a pair of fleshy nubs.  She was 
a very pretty girl, with long auburn hair, pale blue eyes, and delicate 
features that seemed to be sculpted from alabaster.  I watched as Will 
tied her ankles and wrists to the bedposts.

"Where did you learn to tie knots like that?" I asked him.

"Boy Scouts," he chuckled.  "Come, let's have some lunch.  The chloroform 
should take some time to wear off."

She was already awake and struggling when we returned to the basement.  
There was an adjacent room with a viewing slot from which she could be 
observed, and Will and I stood there for a while as we watched Darcy try 
to free herself.

"You're excited, aren't you?" I asked him.  He was holding me from behind 
and  I could feel his erection pressing against my bottom as we watched.

"Yes."

"Can I watch you?"

"I was hoping you'd do more than just watch," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I'd like you to share this pleasure with me," Will said.  "You've earned 
it."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, princess."

Will led me into the room.  The look on Darcy's face was priceless, 
surprise, fear, anger, dread.  I smiled at her as Will unzipped the back 
of my dress and lifted it over my head.

"Wha...what are you going to do to me?" Darcy cried.

"Shhhh..." I whispered, walking over to the bed and caressing her creamy 
cheek.  "This is your special day."

"What do you mean?"

"Shhhh..." I said, leaning over and pressing my lips against hers.  I'd 
never kissed another girl before.  Her lips were so wonderfully soft and 
pliant.  As she reluctantly submitted to my kiss, I could hear Will 
picking up the scissors.

"Hey!  What are you...?"  Darcy broke off our kiss when she felt Will 
cutting through her bra, snipping it between the flat cups.

"You have nice little titties," I said, pinching one of her nipples.

"Ow!  Stop!"  Her tears began to flow again and she seemed hardly aware of 
the scissors that were cutting off her panties.  I leaned over and licked 
her  salty tears from her cheeks, caressing her heaving chest.  As I 
kissed her again, she seemed to relax somewhat.

"Shhhhh...it's okay," I cooed.

"Are...are you g-going to k-k-kill me?"

"No, Darcy," I said.  "You'll be back home tonight."

"W-what are you...?"

"Shhhh..."  I felt Will's hand on my shoulder.

"Lick her for me, princess," he whispered in my ear.

"You want me to...?"  I didn't expect this.

"Please," he said.

I climbed into bed and knelt between Darcy's splayed legs, getting my 
first good look of another girl's cunny.  She had the barest growth of 
hair on her mons.  I leaned forward and licked her puffy labia, just as 
Will had done to mine that first night, and then I probed her slit with my 
tongue, wetting her, tasting the faint traces of urine, finding her tiny 
clitoris and teasing it.

"No...stop...please don't..." she pleaded weakly.  I felt Will's hands on 
my bottom, caressing me, pulling down my panties, his fingers grazing the 
lips of my pussy.  As I licked Darcy's slit he began to finger me, gently 
rubbing my swollen button.

As Darcy shifted her hips, trying to keep her tiny clit in contact with my 
tongue, I began to understand the power Will felt.  We had absolute 
control over her, life and death, pleasure and pain.  She was ours to do 
as we pleased.  Our plaything.

Will tugged at my shoulder, signaling that he was ready to take her.  He 
was undressed now, his cock hard and bobbing in time with his pulse.  I 
got up from between the girl's thighs and he took my place, sliding a 
pillow under her little bottom.

"No...please...don't..."  Darcy seemed to be out of tears, staring at the 
ceiling, trying not to look at Will's erection.  Her whole body tensed up 
when she felt the tip of his cock press against her slit and as he entered 
her she began to scream and struggle against her restraints.

"Shhh..." I whispered, caressing her smooth skin.  "It'll be over soon."

"No!  Stop!  It hurts..."  Darcy swiveled her hips, trying to dislodge the 
column of flesh that was invading her, but Will held fast, pressing into 
her, filling her with his hardness.  She struggled with all of her might, 
bucking like a bronco trying to throw off her rider.  When Will's cock 
tore through her hymen, she shrieked.  I pressed my lips against hers, 
silencing her screams with my tongue.  Out of the corner of my eye I could 
see Will's cock, glistening with her juices, my saliva, and a trace of 
blood as it slid in and out of her violated cunny.

A moment later she surrendered, going limp beneath Will's thrusting cock.  
Her eyes had a blank look, as if she'd gone somewhere else, and she was 
moaning softly like a wounded animal.  I heard Will let out a soft groan, 
something he always did when he came, and he stopped thrusting.  He paused 
for a minute, just looking at Darcy's face, and then he pulled out of her.  
He sat on the edge of the bed and his messy cock began to soften.

"Can I clean you?" I asked him.

"Please," he said, handing me the scraps of Darcy's panties.  Instead of 
wiping him off, I knelt between his knees and took his cock into my mouth, 
licking the blood, juices, and semen from him.  When I was done I looked 
up at him.

"Thank you, princess," he said, caressing my cheek.

"Are you happy now?" I asked him.

"I'm always happy," Will replied.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I am," he said.

"What now?"

"Endgame," he said.

Endgame was the most dangerous part.  By now the police would be on the 
lookout for Darcy and they might even have a description of the van as 
well.  The trick was to drop Darcy off somewhere safe without being seen.  
Before we could to this we had to clean her, dress her, and get her back 
into the van.

First there was the shot, injected at a spot between her toes.  The drug 
took a while to take effect, so we took the time to get dressed.  Darcy 
was as limp as a rag doll when Will untied her, and I had to help him 
carry her into the basement bathroom.  We placed her on a bidet, flushing 
Will's cum from her cunny.  This was in the days before DNA analysis, but 
the police could still determine Will's blood type from his semen.  The 
less physical evidence, the better.

After that was the shower.  Darcy sat limply on a wooden bench while I 
hosed her off.  After we dried her, using paper towels that wouldn't leave 
traces of fiber, I helped Will dress her in the school uniform.  We 
carried her into the van and drove her back to her neighborhood.

There was a phone booth three blocks from her house.  Once the coast was 
clear I helped her out of the van and into the booth.  As she slumped down 
to the floor I took the receiver off the hook and dialed 911 with the 
knuckle of my index finger, careful not to leave any fingerprints 
anywhere.  Will already had the van in gear and we drove around the 
corner, watching the booth until we could hear the sounds of sirens 
approaching.  Then we drove home, taking a circuitous route that took us 
over the river twice.  On our second time on the bridge I threw a bag out 
the window, into the dark waters below.  Inside the bag was Darcy's 
underwear, the syringe, and a lead weight.

We were back home an hour later, dining on lamb stew, Will's special meal 
for special days like this.

"You're not still upset with me, are you princess?" he asked me.

"No, I'm not."

"You haven't said a word since we came home.  Do you feel sorry for her?"

"No, I don't," I said.  "Her parents probably love her.  She'll get over 
it."

"Well, then.  What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Later that night, after we made love and were lying in bed together, 
sipping brandy, he asked me again.

"What's wrong, princess?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Something must be," Will said.  "You've been awfully quiet.  Are you 
jealous?"

"No, it's not that."

"Well then tell me.  I hate to see you like this."  He rolled over and 
kissed me on the cheek.

"If I asked you something, would you promise not to be angry?"

"Ask me anything."

"Well...I was wondering.  Could we get a boy next time?"

I felt his body grow tense, and I steeled myself for the anger that I 
thought would follow, but instead he began to laugh.

"You want a boy," he said, still chuckling.  "Okay, we'll get you a boy.  
But you have to pick him out.  I don't know your tastes that well."

"Thank you," I said, hugging and kissing him, relieved that he wasn't mad.

                                  * * *

"Excuse me," I called out as the boy passed me on the sidewalk.  "Can you 
help me?"

"What's wrong?" he said.

"I dropped my tennis ball and it rolled under that van," I said, pointing 
to where Will had parked.  "I can't reach it.  Would you help me?"

"Um, sure," the boy said, squatting down next to the van and looking 
underneath.  "I don't see it."

"It's behind the rear wheel," I said.  "Here, maybe you can reach it with 
this."  I handed him my tennis racquet and as he began to poke behind the 
wheel I knocked three times on the side door of the van.  It slid open and 
Will grabbed the boy under his arms, pulling him inside.  As soon as I was 
in the van Will pressed the chloroform-soaked cloth to the boy's face.  He 
went limp.

I'd picked him out six weeks before, while sitting with Will in his sedan.  
We'd parked outside one of the city's prep schools watching as students 
entered and left the building.  His name was Dylan Baxter and he was a 
year older than me.  I liked his sandy blond hair and dark brown eyes.  He 
was an honors student and captain of the swim team.  Dylan didn't have a 
girlfriend.  That would soon change, at least for a couple of hours.

Forty-five minutes later Dylan was spread-eagled on the bed in the 
basement chamber, his wrists and ankles held fast by thick nylon rope.  
Will had to help me with the knots, and my heart was pounding in my chest 
as I tied up this nearly-naked boy.

We left the chamber and ate lunch while we waited for the boy to awaken.  
When we returned to Will's dungeon, Dylan was already screaming and 
struggling against his restraints.  Will and I watched from the adjacent 
room, and when the boy seemed about to give up we entered the chamber.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.  "W-where am I?"

"Shhhh..." I whispered, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the 
edge.

"What the f-fuck are you going to do?" he cried.  "What th..."

I silenced him with a kiss.  Dylan tried to turn his head away, but I held 
his chin and forced him to accept my tongue.  After I broke off our kiss, 
Dylan turned his head and spat.  I felt my anger rise and without even 
thinking I gave him a backhanded slap across his face.

"Ow!" he shouted.  He wanted to say more, but when he saw me picking up 
the scissors he bit his tongue.

"Shhhh..." I said as I began to cut off his jockey shorts.  I could tell 
he wanted to struggle, but he froze instead as he felt the cold steel 
blade next to his skin.  I was careful not to cut him, though.  Will had 
told me that I should take care of my toys.

When Dylan was completely naked I took off my skirt and blouse, carefully 
folding and placing them on a chair.  Then I took off my panties.  Dylan's 
eyes were glued to my crotch, as if he'd never seen a cunny before.  
Before the day was over he'd see plenty of mine.

Will was seated in the corner of the room, in his boxer shorts and ski 
mask, watching as I climbed into bed and curled up between Dylan's spread 
thighs.  I could see a steady rhythmic motion out of the corner of my eye 
and I heard that telltale slapping sound, "fap, fap, fap...", as Will 
masturbated.

I got my first good look at Dylan's penis, the only one I'd seen apart 
from Will's.  It was quite different.  For one thing, it was smaller.  The 
skin was a lighter color than Will's and it lacked that extra bit of skin 
that covers the head when flaccid.  It was smoother, too, without the 
veins, bumps, and the prominent ridge along the underside of the shaft 
that made Will's cock feel so wonderful inside me.  Dylan's glans, though, 
seemed to have a thicker ridge of flesh along the rim, though without the 
foreskin it was hard to compare it with Will's cockhead.

Dylan had more hair on his cock and balls than Will, who regularly shaved 
down there so as not to leave any evidence behind.  The boy's pubic hair 
was light brown, darker than the blond hair on his head, and it was pretty 
sparse, as if he'd just started growing it down there.  His balls were 
smaller, the size of robins' eggs, and his scrotum was softer than Will's.  
It felt like velvet and I couldn't resist cupping and gently squeezing 
him.

"No...please...don't..." Dylan moaned.  He had the look of a trapped 
animal in his eyes and he kept glancing over that the scissors that I'd 
placed on the bedside table.

"Shhhhh..." I replied, wondering if he thought I was going to cut off his 
genitals.  I pursed my lips and blew on his cock, feeling it twitch 
between my fingers.  I was anxious to feel him inside me, but I wanted to 
make this last.  The anticipation felt delicious, a gnawing hunger in my 
belly and a tingling feeling between my legs.  When I dragged my moist 
tongue along the length of his shaft, he began to grow erect, stiffening 
in my hand.

"What...what are you...?"  The look of surprise on the boy's face was 
priceless, and when I finally took his penis into my mouth he gasped and 
threw his head back.  He was hard now and his chest was heaving, his balls 
contracting in my hand as I began to suck him.  Since he was smaller than 
Will, I could get more of his cock in my mouth, almost all of it in fact.

I was thinking about how much I loved the power I held over this boy when 
I heard movement behind me.  Will had gotten up from his chair and 
approached the bed, tugging at my hips and drawing me up to my knees.  
Then I felt his breath between my legs and his tongue, licking the length 
of my crack, from my tailbone all the way down to my slit.  Will began to 
probe my slit with his fingers, teasing my clit, rubbing it, stoking the 
fires that burned within my belly.  As I slowly sucked Dylan's cock, Will 
tongue-fucked me and rubbed my button, making me moan softly around the 
boy's stiff penis.

"Oh, God...oh...oh..."  Dylan was gasping now, his cock twitching in my 
mouth like a live animal.  Suddenly he came, shooting a single spurt of 
his hot cream down the back of my throat.  Will had warned me about this, 
how fast boys Dylan's age could come, though he'd be hard again in no time 
at all.  I didn't release his softening cock, keeping it in my mouth and 
milking the last drops of his boycum with my lips.  His semen tasted 
blander and felt thinner than Will's.

Now that Dylan had come, I could concentrate on the feeling of Will's 
tongue and fingers in my cleft.  He liked to pleasure me this way, usually 
as a prelude to fucking me.  However, he knew what I had planned for 
Dylan, and after he made me come he didn't climb into bed and mount me.

Dylan was just staring off into space as Will and I left the chamber.  It 
was one of Will's rules that speaking in the presence of our playthings 
might threaten our safety, make us easier to identify.  So, as Dylan 
rested up for Round Two, we went upstairs and had a cup of tea.  The 
housekeeper was gone for the day so we didn't bother with our clothes.

"Is it all you hoped, princess?" Will asked me as we sat in the kitchen 
sipping our tea.

"Yes, it is," I replied.

"You've made me jealous, the way you sucked him."

"I'm sorry," I said, getting up to sit in Will's lap.  I threw my arm 
around his neck and kissed him.  "He's just a plaything.  It's you I 
love."

"I know," he said, kissing me on the cheek.  "As long as you're happy."

I sighed and rested my head on his shoulder, feeling loved and content in 
Will's arms.  As he caressed my back I could feel his erection start to 
press against my thighs.  Without a word I slid off his lap and knelt 
between his legs, kissing the tip of his cock before taking it in my 
mouth.  Compared to Dylan, Will's penis felt huge between my lips, and 
when he came his semen filled my mouth almost completely, unlike the boy's 
meager offering.  I licked my lips and giggled as I climbed back into 
Will's lap, washing down his sperm with a sip of Earl Grey.

I could see Dylan grow tense when we returned to the basement, his biceps  
and thighs bulging as he strained against the ropes.  I'd been in his 
place, I'd known his uncertainty, I'd felt his fear.  But I felt no 
sympathy for the boy.  He was here for my entertainment, my pleasure, and 
he'd be released in a matter of hours, none the worse for wear.  I 
wondered if he'd think about me afterwards.  Perhaps he'd lie awake at 
night stroking his smooth young cock as he relived his afternoon in Will's 
basement.

"Are...are you going to...?" Dylan asked as I climbed into bed and 
straddled his hips.  His cock was soft, slumbering along his belly, and it 
began to harden as I rubbed his shaft with my cunny.

"Shhhh..." I whispered.  First things first, I thought.  I wanted him to 
lick me first, so I got up on my knees and slid up his chest, bringing my 
cleft within inches of his ruby lips.  Will helped me by propping up 
Dylan's head with another pillow, and I could feel the boy's hot breath on 
my pussy.

"Lick," I said, the only words I'd speak.  My cunny was so close to his 
face that his eyes were almost crossed as he tried to focus on my sex.  
Maybe he'd seen a pussy before in a magazine but I had no doubt that he'd 
never been this close to one in real life.  Dylan extended his tongue and 
gave my slit a tentative swipe.  I inched closer, pressing my hungry cunny 
to his lips as he began to lick me in earnest.

Unlike Will, the boy had no idea what a clitoris was, much less where it 
was located.  I helped him out by undulating my hips; all he had to do was 
stick out his tongue.  Will was back in the corner, sitting in his chair, 
idly stroking his hardening cock as he watched me fuck Dylan's mouth.

As my pleasure began to rise, I fell forward, grasping the bed's wooden 
headboard, pressing my sex even harder against Dylan's lips.  The boy 
tried to say something but all I heard was a muffled "Mmmmph!".

Unlike the climax I'd had when Will licked and fingered me earlier, this 
one took its sweet time in coming.  Maybe it was because I'd already come, 
or it was due to Dylan's lack of experience licking pussy.  But when it 
did come it was sweet, a hard-earned orgasm that left me breathless and 
shaking atop the boy's wet face.  I pushed my cunny against his lips, 
trying to catch a second wave of pleasure, but Dylan's tongue must have 
been tired.  He could hardly keep it extended.

The boy was hard again, which surprised me.  I expected to suck him again, 
in fact I was looking forward to it, but I suppose he must have enjoyed 
licking his first pussy and seeing me come.  I slid back down his smooth 
young body and reached between my legs, guiding his spear into my wet slit 
and settling down on it.  He didn't feel as big as Will, of course, but 
that thick ridge of flesh on his helmet felt wonderful as it penetrated my 
passage.

Dylan was speechless as I began to slide up and down on his pole.  His 
mouth just hung open, his eyes gazing downward as he watched his cock 
disappear inside my cleft, only to emerge once again, glistening with my 
juices.  I could hear Will, still seated in the corner, breathing heavily 
as he masturbated while he watched us.  My pleasure began to build again, 
a tingling that spread throughout my body with every thrust of my hips.

Even though he was restrained hand and foot, Dylan's hips began to move 
with mine, even speeding up as I increased my pace.  I was rocking my hips 
pretty quickly now, trying to catch that elusive feeling, chasing my 
orgasm, gaining on it.  I was close, so close, when I felt his cock begin 
to twitch inside me, followed by a spreading warmth, that familiar feeling 
of hot semen filling my passage.  I felt a pang of disappointment, and 
though I kept moving my hips, sliding along the length of his cock, he 
soon slipped out of me.

I wanted to scream, to slap him, even strangle him.  How dare he do this 
to me?  But before I had a chance to give in to my impulses, Will got up 
from his seat and climbed into bed, kneeling behind me and entering me 
with one quick thrust of his hips.  He mounted me, pushing me forward so 
that I was laying on top of Dylan while he filled me.  As I lay on my bed 
of living flesh, Will began to fuck me with fast, hard strokes, bringing 
me back to my quest, giving me the climax that Dylan had denied me.

It was the most intense orgasm I'd ever had, making me quiver and shake as 
I lay sandwiched between Will and Dylan.  I could tell that the boy was 
having trouble breathing from the weight of two bodies, but I didn't care.  
I was lost in my delight, intense waves of pleasure that knocked the wind 
out of me, made my toes curl, and made my whole body feel like one big 
clit.  Will just kept pounding my spasming cunny, holding me tight as he 
pumped my hungry cleft.  When he came, filling me with even more semen, I 
had another intense climax that left me limp, exhausted, fulfilled.

"You people are fucking sick," Dylan croaked, after Will had climbed out 
of bed.  I looked up at the boy and reared my hand back, slapping him so 
hard that I left red finger marks on his cheek.  I slapped him again, 
backhand this time, and managed to split his lip, drawing blood.  Just as 
I was about to wrap my fingers around Dylan's throat, Will grabbed me from 
behind and hustled me out of the room, locking the door behind him.

"You know the rules," he said.  "We don't do that to our playthings."

"Yes, sir," I said, feeling chastened.  I hated to disappoint him and I 
felt ashamed for letting my emotions take over.  "I'm sorry."  I looked 
down at my feet.

"Go get the first aid kit and attend to his lip," Will said.

"Yes, sir."  I did as I was told, getting the kit from the bathroom and 
returning to the chamber, blotting the blood from Dylan's split lip.  The 
boy flinched as I approached him, expecting another beating, but I was 
gentle with him.  Dylan looked at me strangely, as if he didn't know what 
to make of all of this.  I avoided his eyes, still ashamed of what I'd 
done.

Will and I went through the endgame without a word between us, and after 
we'd dropped Dylan off near his house and disposed of the evidence, we 
returned home and went to bed.  I still felt shame burning on my face as 
we lay together.  Will had indulged me with this boy and I had let him 
down.  I wanted to tell him I was sorry again, but he spoke first.

"We follow the rules because the rules keep us safe," he said.  "Do you 
understand?"

"Yes, sir.  I'm sorry, sir."

"I know why you gave in to your anger."

"You do?"

"It was what he said.  He said we were sick."

"He insulted us," I said.  "I just couldn't..."

"I know, princess," Will said, rolling over and taking me in his arms.  I 
felt my shame begin to melt as he kissed and caressed me.

"Are we sick?"

"To them, we are," he said.  "But I believe we've evolved, we're past the 
silly sentimentality that bogs down the human race.  You and I are part of 
a new breed, a better breed."  Will had sometimes spoken about this, but I 
was less interested in philosophy than he.  Now I began to think about 
what he was saying.

"Does that mean we can't love each other?" I asked him.

"No, princess," he said.  "If anything, it means we can love each other 
even more because our love isn't dissipated, wasted on strangers."

"Oh."

"I love no one in this world but you, Elizabeth.  You are my lover, you 
are like my daughter, you are my soulmate.  I knew it from that very first 
night, when I had you in the basement.  The way you laughed almost made me 
give in to my anger, just as you had tonight.  That's when I knew you were 
different, that you were like me.  You could conquer your fear, you could 
control your own destiny."

"But I was scared," I said.

"It's okay to be scared, princess.  But you didn't surrender.  Do you see 
the difference?"

"Yes, I do."

"Now, it's been a long day.  Let's get some sleep."

"Okay," I said, kissing him on the lips.  "Goodnight, Daddy."  I'd never 
called him that before, but it seemed appropriate now.

"Goodnight, my sweet princess," he whispered, pulling me close and hugging 
me.  I fell asleep in his loving arms, feeling like the luckiest girl in 
the whole wide world.

                                  * * *


For the next six years, until I went away to college, Will was my father, 
my lover, my teacher, and I was his partner in crime.  Since I'd entered 
his life, the urge to pluck a plaything off of the streets grew less 
frequent, but it wasn't suppressed completely.  Three or four times each 
year we would go out in his van and find a plaything, usually a girl but 
sometimes he'd indulge me with a boy.  Though there were a couple of close 
calls, we never got caught.

Will taught me his tradecraft, the methods he used to gather information 
on a potential plaything, the ways he could observe without being seen, 
and all the myriad details that served to eliminate the element of chance.  
He seemed to know the patrol patterns of every police car in the city, all 
their radio frequencies, and even the names of all of the detectives 
assigned to the Missing Persons bureau.

To his credit, Will was always willing to listen to my suggestions, ways I 
thought could make finding and controlling our playthings easier and 
safer, even though he was a creature of habit, tied to his routines and 
rules.  One suggestion he was happy to implement was the installation of a 
cage intended for large breed dogs in the back of the van.  Another was 
the felt-lined leather cuffs that replaced the nylon rope in the basement 
chamber, less prone to leave marks on the wrists and ankles.

It was the year after I graduated from college when Will got sick.  At 
first, he wrote it off as anemia, something that ran in his family.  But 
when iron pills didn't help his condition, he agreed to see a doctor.  
Will despised the medical profession.  His family doctor had been 
patronizing, something he found despicable.  I insisted that he see 
someone and he relented, mainly to placate me.

What he thought was anemia actually was cancer, end stage, inoperable.  I 
put up a brave face for him as I tried to make his last weeks comfortable, 
but every chance I'd get I would disappear into the basement and sob 
uncontrollably.  The only person on the planet that cared about me was 
about to leave my life.  I felt like my world was about to end.

I brought him one last plaything, a little blonde girl who trembled like a 
leaf when I carried her, blindfolded and bound, to his sickbed.  Will was 
too weak to move at that point, let alone sustain an erection, but he 
appreciated my gift even if he couldn't do anything but caress the girl's 
soft skin.  I released her that night, knowing that the end was near.

I was with him when he died, mopping his brow, administering morphine to 
ease his pain.  He passed quietly, a gentle sigh escaping his lips, and I 
imagined that I could feel his soul depart the world.

There were only a handful of people at his funeral.  Now that I was of 
legal age, I was no longer known as the distant cousin.  I was his 
companion, his sole heir, and there was no one to contest his will.  The 
Beekman fortune was mine, as was the brownstone, the hunting lodge 
upstate, and the cottage by the sea.

There was some interest from the press, mainly from society columnists who 
were curious about me.  One had remembered when Will had introduced me to 
his friends as a cousin, even though my name wasn't present in the Social 
Register.  I deflected all of their attention by being as uninteresting as 
possible and barely a week later they were off in search of more 
newsworthy items.

I inherited something else from Will.  He'd been laid to rest barely three 
months when I had the urge, the compulsion to find a plaything, a young 
boy with a hard cock and a soft body.  My first thought was to snatch the 
first young thing I could find, but I resisted, remembering everything 
he'd taught me.  The next day I was on the streets in his sedan, peering 
through a telephoto lens at prep school boys in their smart blue blazers.

It took me three months before I picked up the boy, three months of 
careful planning, three months to compile a dossier with his habits, his 
routine, his vital statistics.  I used the badge Will had shown me that 
fateful day on the railroad platform and the boy came with me willingly, 
not knowing what he was in for until the chloroform-soaked cloth was 
pressed to his face.

It was as easy as it was satisfying.  Somehow, the boys seemed less 
terrified of me than they had been when Will was alive.  Perhaps they 
thought they were in less danger, though I always had Will's revolver 
handy should things take a bad turn.  He'd taught me how to shoot it one 
summer at his hunting lodge, reloading it over and over until I stopped 
flinching at the muzzle blast.  When I'd begun to consistently knock ten 
cans out of ten off of the wooden fence rails, it was time for the rifle 
and my first deer.

"Deer, people, they're all the same," Will had told me.  "Survival.  Us or 
them.  When the time comes to kill, don't hesitate."  I knew in my heart 
that I could kill if I had to, but it never came to that.  Will had taught 
me to be careful.

For fifteen years after Will passed away I lived his life, taking young 
male playthings from the street and having my way with them, after which I 
would return them unharmed.  In the meantime, forensics had made my task 
harder, with DNA analysis and other scientific advances.  I knew that had 
Will been alive he would have to have abandoned his life, or at least 
emigrate to a country where the law enforcement was less savvy, more 
easily manipulated.  I had to take great pains to avoid leaving a trace of 
physical evidence, from fibers to follicles, lest I be betrayed by my own 
molecules and cells.  That my playthings were boys and I was a woman made 
this task somewhat easier.  I left no traces of semen, no torn hymens, and 
the boys were somewhat more reluctant to disclose what had happened, 
particularly after I began to drop them off with incriminating items, like 
bags of spray paint or small amounts of marijuana.  That was a touch I 
knew Will would be proud of.


                                  * * *


My life changed again recently, almost as radically as it had when Will 
took me from my parents.

The boy tied to the bed wasn't the usual scrubbed preppie.  I don't know 
why I'd picked him.  Perhaps it was because he was different and slightly 
older than most of my playthings.  Unlike Will, I desired a bit of variety 
in my toys.  But the real reason I chose him was his name: Dylan, just 
like that first boy Will had helped me take when I was just twelve.

This Dylan was fourteen, with hair dyed raven black.  He wore eyeliner, 
something else I found intriguing, and his nails were painted black as 
well.  When I removed his clothes -- black, of course -- I discovered that 
he wasn't wearing underwear.  Except for the dog collar he'd worn around 
his neck he was naked.  I hadn't blindfolded him, something I always did 
with my playthings.  Dylan had beautiful eyes, despite the makeup, and I 
wanted to look at them as I took him.  I decided to wear the wig I'd worn 
when I picked him up, a disguise in lieu of a blindfold.

He'd shaved his pubes, too, which made me feel a pang of loss as I 
remembered how Will shaved himself.  For a moment I wondered if I had bad 
information on Dylan.  Perhaps he was gay, or a cross-dresser.  Surely, he 
was too young to have shaved for the same reason as Will.  No, I would 
have known.  I had his medical records, including transcripts of sessions 
with a therapist he'd gone to at the behest of his parents.

True, he'd attempted suicide, but that was more common than one was led to 
believe, even if most of the attempts among kids his age weren't meant to 
succeed.  Dylan was smart and had good grades, but he was somewhat of a 
loner, the sort of detail that made grabbing him easier.

The really strange part was that he wasn't struggling at all.  As soon as 
he'd emerged from his chloroform sleep he simply looked around the chamber 
and tested the restraints.  No cries for help, no screams or shouts, no 
straining at his bonds.

Even stranger: he had an erection.

I donned the wig and dressing gown before heading down to the basement.  
Before I left the bedroom I'd shared with Will, I took a look in the 
mirror, straightening out my wig, the only disguise as I was willing to 
wear.  Will's ski mask had been buried with him, tucked into the pocket of 
his suit when I was alone with him at the funeral home.

I'd come to this place a little girl, with slim hips and a nearly-flat 
chest.  Now I was in my thirties, still somewhat slim but with a woman's 
curves.  Hips, waist, breasts, the gentle swell of a belly.  Nothing like 
money, lots of money, to keep you in shape.  I closed my robe and headed 
downstairs.

"Whoa, there you are," the boy said when I entered the chamber.

"Shhhh..." I whispered.

"What, am I talking too loud?"

"Shhhh..."

"Hey, okay.  I'll whisper."  The boy was smiling.  They never smiled.  
Something was different, and I wondered if this had been a bad idea.  
Could he be part of a sting operation?  Were the police on to me?  No, I 
thought.  If he were, then he'd behave as I'd expect a boy in his 
situation would behave, struggling and screaming, just to keep up the 
pretense.

"Hey, nice place you got here," Dylan said.  "Cool cuffs."  He raised his 
wrist, making the chain that connected the cuff to the bed clink.

"Shhhh..."  I sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Oh, right.  Whispers," he said, sotto voce.  "Hey, what was that stuff 
you used.  That's a mad buzz."

"Chloroform," I said, instantly regretting having said anything.  Will 
would have yelled at me for breaking that rule.

"Wow.  Got any more."

"Later," I said, shrugging my robe from my shoulders.

"Hey, nice tits," Dylan said.  "Ever think of getting them pierced?"

"Shhhh..."  I climbed into bed and knelt between his legs, circling his 
hard cock with my fingers and gently stroking him before taking him into 
my mouth.

"Aw, yeah," Dylan moaned.  "Suck that cock, bitch."

"What did you say?"  I released him from my lips and glared at him.

"Shit, sorry.  My girlfriend likes it when I say that."

I hadn't known about any girlfriend.  Just about all the boys I brought 
here were virgins.

"Aren't you the least bit scared?"

"Fuck no," he said.  "I mean, if you were going to do me with a strap-on 
or something you would have tied me face down, right?"

"Right, but aren't you afraid I'm going to kill you?"

"Fuck no.  I don't expect to see my eighteenth birthday, anyway."

"Why not?"  This was dangerous territory.  Will had told me that the only 
person he feared was the one who had nothing to lose.

"I hate my life."  His eyes began to glisten, moist with tears.  "I hate 
my parents.  I hate my school.  I hate my friends."

"Why do you say that?  You're a smart, handsome young man.  You've got 
your whole life ahead of you."

"Whatever."  Despite his tears, his face was blank, expressionless.

"Fine," I said, getting up from between his legs and putting on my robe.  
"You want to die?  I'll give you what you want."

Dylan's expression changed when I reached under the bedside table and 
pulled out the revolver that was taped to the bottom.  His cock was limp 
now and I was out of the mood.  The night was over.  All that was left was 
the endgame.

"Wait," he said.  "What are you...?"

I put the barrel of the gun to his head.  He cringed.

"No.  Please.  Don't."

He closed his eyes and bared his teeth.

"Please don't kill me.  Please..."

I pulled the trigger.  The firing pin snapped on an empty chamber.

Dylan relaxed like a boy who had just blown his load in a girl's pussy.  
There was a faint smile on his face.  The tears had stopped.

"You're dead now."  I uncuffed one of his wrists.  "Say it, Dylan."

"I'm dead now," he said.

"Your old life is over."  I placed the gun on the table.

"My old life is over."

"Your new life starts today."

"My new life starts today," he repeated as I released his other wrist.  As 
he sat up I held out my arms and he accepted my embrace, softly sobbing on 
my shoulder, releasing all of his grief.  I held him, caressed his smooth 
young back, kissed the tears that had formed black eyeliner-stained 
streaks on his pale cheeks.  I knew at that moment that he was mine 
forever, my last plaything, different from all the rest.


                                  * * *


"Nervous, sweetie?"

"A little," he said.

"Remember what I told you," I said.  "If anything doesn't smell right just 
let it pass.  Don't take any unnecessary chances."

"Okay."

I took Dylan's hand and gave it a little squeeze.  He smiled and opened 
the door of the van, stepping on to the sidewalk just as the girl rounded 
the corner.


                                  * * *

(c) 2003  Anais Ninja
anais_ninja@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/www/

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