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From: Rufus Fugit <rufusfugit@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Jenny's Couch, part 5 (Mg, ped, mast, cons, reluc, humil) by Rufus Fugit
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Date: Sat, 12 Aug 2006 18:10:01 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This is an erotic story featuring adults and children. If you don't
want to read such a thing, don't. If it's illegal for you to read it
whoever and wherever you are, I don't really care. Don't read it, or
don't get caught. Either way, that's your problem. 

This is my story. It may be freely distributed and reposted to free
sites, or the free areas of pay sites, so long as authorship is
properly credited and these introductory paragraphs are included. If
you can find someone silly enough to pay you for this story and you
steal it for that purpose, well, mazel tov and fuck you. 

This story is F-I-C-T-I-O-N. No actual children or adults or anything
were involved in its production. What part of "made up" don't you
understand? Intelligent feedback gratefully accepted at rufusfugit at
yahoo dot com. Stupid feedback and flames to /dev/null.

Jenny's Couch, part 5 (Mg, ped, mast, cons, reluc, humil) by Rufus
Fugit

Jenny needed a favor. She was taking a continuing ed class for a new
certification. It was a special session at the community college for
working people and the schedule was intense: four and a half hours
every weekday evening for four weeks. That meant she wouldn't get home
until after ten p.m., and since Rob worked second shift he typically
got home even later. They felt that Karen and Renee were too young to
be alone in the house for that long every night. The problem was, their
regular babysitter had graduated and gone off to college. They had a
new girl, a middle-schooler, but Jenny and the girl's parents agreed
she wasn't yet ready to spend every evening for a month babysitting,
especially with the new school year just underway.

So Jenny had asked me if I knew any young people who were both mature
enough and interested in giving up every weeknight for a month to
babysit a nine- and eleven-year-old. In fact, I did - my friend and
former-midlife-crisis-lust-object, Moira. She was now nineteen or
twenty, but I had met her when she was thirteen and her entire family
joined the gym where I was training. We still kept in touch and I had a
feeling she would really enjoy getting to know Karen, but for now I had
other plans. So instead I offered myself as a babysitter. I was working
a short-term job in town, I explained, and driving two hours each way
from my house was exhausting while a hotel room was expensive and
uncomfortable. Jenny was happy to accept. The kids liked me and I was
trustworthy as far as she knew. So it was that on a Sunday evening I
was making up their monster of a sectional couch into the guest bed I
would be using for the next month.

Over dinner, Jenny and I discussed the routine for the coming month
with the girls. I told them I had arranged my work schedule so I would
be done early most days and I'd get there at about the same time they
got home from school, maybe a little sooner. They'd be expected to
behave, to do their homework before playing or watching tv just like
they did when they got home to an empty house, and so on. Renee was
excited to learn that I'd be their houseguest for a whole month. She
kicked her short legs underneath the table while she ate, wriggled in
her chair and tossed her thick brown braids from side to side - a
little ball of energy. She chattered away to me, enough that Jenny had
to caution her twice about talking with her mouth full.

Karen, on the other hand, sat mostly silent, staring at her plate and
poking listlessly at her food with her fork. Her long blond hair fell
forward to hide her oval face but occasionally I caught her shooting
worried glances at me from beneath her lowered brow. I winked and
smiled at her, imagining the delectable preteen charms concealed by her
tshirt and shorts. It was hard to tell the way she was sitting hunched
over but I thought her lovely nipples were swelling further, on the
verge of becoming actual titties. And now I would have a whole month to
play with them.

As we finished the meal I offered to help the girls with their chore of
clearing the table while Jenny cleared off the stove and put up the
leftovers. We made short work of it; as Karen and I loaded the last
plates into the dishwasher our heads were almost touching and I took
the opportunity to whisper just one word in her ear: "whore". Her thin
shoulders stiffened and for the first time that evening she looked
right at me. I saw shame and a little panic in her wide blue eyes. Her
mother's back was turned to us and I quickly reached out and, smiling
right into her shocked face, squeezed one of her plump little ass
cheeks. The young girl stifled an involuntary squeak and fled the room.

Later, after the girls were in bed and Rob had gotten home we sat
around the couch, drinks in hand, discussing the children. "I guess
it's just the puberty express approaching," Jenny sighed ruefully, "but
Karen's gotten so moody lately. She hardly ever smiles, spends hours
locked in her room - and she's gotten downright obsessive about
cleanliness. Renee's always complaining she's hogging the bathroom. For
some reason she's especially worried about her teeth. Don't get me
wrong, I'm thrilled that I don't have to force her to get in the
shower, but I can hear that stupid electric toothbrush going for
fifteen minutes some nights." I smiled inwardly, knowing that it wasn't
her teeth the fifth-grader was obsessed with.

The next morning I was up and out of the house well before anyone else
so that I could put in my eight hours and be done in time to meet the
children after school. The timing worked out perfectly; they were just
walking up the block as I pulled into the driveway. I got out of the
car and watched them approach. They were both bent forward under the
weight of absurdly-filled backpacks. I didn't remember ever having to
tote that much crap around when I was in elementary school. Renee was
wearing a white polo shirt, beige skorts, and sneakers. Her brown hair
was in the customary two braids. Today her older sister had on a pink
sleeveless blouse that bared her lovely thin, tanned shoulders and a
short pleated skirt in a matching color. Her coltish legs were bare
down to some dressy white sandals. Her waist-length blond hair was
pulled back into a ponytail high on the back of her head and swung
sexily from side to side as she walked. When Renee saw me she grabbed
her heavy backpack's shoulder straps and lurched into an awkward run,
calling my name. Karen, though, stopped dead on the sidewalk. After a
moment she visibly forced herself to start moving again, trudging on as
if to her execution. I never wanted the little girl to be quite so
fearful of me. As the children approached I was mentally revising my
plan for the afternoon.

A couple of weeks had passed since the wedding that had been Karen's
last big day with me. She had learned a lot about herself that day.
She'd spent a good part of the afternoon naked in public - first forced
to sprint across the mall parking lot in a downpour, then masturbating
me to orgasm in my truck, and then finally learning how to give a
killer blowjob in her elementary school parking lot. It was only after
she swallowed my cum that I allowed her release, jamming two fingers up
her juvenile cunny and wringing what had looked like a soul-shaking
orgasm from her developing body. Exhausted after that, she had fallen
asleep and I'd been unable to rouse her even with vigorous cunnilingus.
That afternoon she became a preteen whore, or at least so I had
convinced her. I had taken her nascent sexuality and her childish,
church-inspired guilt over it and turned it into an obsessive,
all-encompassing ache in her body and her heart and her cunt; now I had
a month to solidify that as part of her self-image. But while I had
used that guilt and shame to get through her defenses and into her cute
little panties, I certainly didn't want them to take over her life. I
wanted her to become my slut, but a happy, willing slut.

Renee threw her arms around my waist in an enthusiastic hug, her round
face beaming up at me. "Hi, sweetie! Did you have a good day at
school?"

"Uh huh! We learned about frogs and how they grow from tadpoles in
swamps!" She launched into a nine-year-old's stream-of-consciousness
report of her day, chattering on so that I almost missed it when she
said, "...and I saw Karen masturbating at recess..."

"Whoa, there!" I stopped her. Karen was just turning up the walk. I
lowered my voice so the older girl wouldn't hear. "You saw your sister
playing with her cunny outside? Did anyone else see?"

"Nuh-uh, she hid," Renee replied brightly. "She was sitting on the
grass, you know, where she sucked on your thingy and you squirted in
her mouth? There were cars parked there so no one could see, and she
was leaning against the wall under the windows, and she had her skirt
up, and her hand was inside her panties, and her eyes were closed and
she was making funny little noises, and then she kinda shivered all
over and she took her hand out and wiped it on the grass."

"And where were you while all this was going on? You were spying on her
a little, weren't you?"

"Well...kinda," the child admitted. "But she's been all weird and sad
lately. I haveta make sure she's OK. I wish she wasn't sad like that."

I hugged Renee hard. "You're such a good girl to care about your sister
like that. I know why she's acting sad, and I'll explain later, OK? And
I think I know how to make her happy again." Karen had finally reached
the porch. "But let's go inside now and have a snack, and then we can
get your homework done. I want to be able to tell your mom that we got
right to work and finished it quick!" And with that I turned and
shepherded the two little girls into the dimness and cool of their
home. I locked the front door behind us.

I gave the girls some grapes and a couple of cookies for a snack; they
ate mostly in silence. Then I shooed them upstairs to change out of
their school clothes, but I walked right behind Karen into her room and
shut the door behind me. In contrast to her little sister's bedroom,
her space was almost painfully neat. The wooden-framed daybed was made,
the pillows and her favorite stuffed animals ranked just so. The floor
was clear, her drawers of her bureau closed, her desktop clean. Even
her bulletin board was carefully arranged, all the photos and evenly
spaced and symmetrical.

Karen was staring up at me in confusion and not a little dread. She
feared that I had followed her into her room to molest her yet again,
but more than that that she feared her own response to the repeated
sexual abuse - she feared her own body and the extreme, uncontrollable
pleasure it felt. "I have to change," she said dully.

"Yes, go ahead," I replied neutrally. "I just want to talk to you while
you dress." As she still hesitated, I repeated, "Go ahead. It's not
like I haven't seen everything already." Sighing, or perhaps sniffling
a little, the fifth-grader gave in. Turning her back to me, she
unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off her shoulders. She was
wearing a little girl's sleeveless undershirt beneath made of ribbed
white cotton with lace edging at the wide armholes and neckline.
Without removing her sandals she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of
it. Her panties were white with a pattern of little cartoon
pink-and-yellow butterflies. I watched without comment as she bent to
pick up the discarded garments. Her panties rode up beyond her tan
line, showing off her creamy white buttocks, just beginning to flare
into a womanly shape, while the knobs of her spine emphasized the
childish lines of her back beneath her undershirt. She stepped around
me, as far away from me as she could in the small room to deposit the
skirt and blouse in her hamper.

As she turned to the bureau, I sat down on her bed and said her name.
"Come sit down with me, Karen. I want to talk to you."

"I have to change," she repeated.

"In a minute. This is important." Shoulders slumped in defeat, she sat
down on the very edge of the far end of the mattress. "No, come here,"
I said, patting my stomach. I reached out and took her by the shoulders
and half-guided, half-dragged her until she was leaning back against my
chest, her butt pressed against my crotch as I leaned back on her
pillows. Of course my cock started to swell from the warm pressure of
her preteen ass, and of course she felt it. I stroked a hand gently
down her chest, dragging each finger individually across her left
nipple where it poked out the thin undershirt. Karen gasped and
squirmed her torso at the intimate touch, but her face didn't show any
pleasure. Her expression was of pure misery.

"Karen, what's the matter?" I asked. Even though I knew full well what
the matter was, I needed for Karen to tell me in her own words to have
something to work with. "What is it?" I repeated when she just shook
her head. I bent to speak softly directly into her ear. Her fine blond
hair tickled my nose and the scent of her baby shampoo and soap aroused
me further. "I can tell you're not happy. Even your sister can tell.
Renee's worried about you, and so am I. Please, can't you tell me
what's wrong?" As I spoke I continued rubbing my hand slowly across her
undershirt, gently stroking and pinching her cherry-sized nipples,
pressing my palm against the little pads of fat I could feel puffing
out around them, the beginnings of what would be beautiful breasts. Her
bony shoulder blades poked into my chest as she twisted her thin torso
in my grip. Her gasps got louder with each tweak of my fingers until
suddenly she burst into tears. I had to hold her tightly as she tried
to double over away from me. Taking a deep breath, she wailed "I don't
WANT to be a whore!" and broke anew into wild sobbing, burying her face
in her hands.

I let her cry herself out. I held her, rocking back and forth, stroking
her high forehead, murmuring little nonsense sounds of comfort into her
ear. I also continued caressing her immature breasts; even while
sobbing she made little gasps and twitches as her puffy nipples
stiffened under my fingers. When her sobs had diminished to sniffles I
spoke. "You like having money to spend, don't you?" Cheek-to-cheek with
my chin over her thin shoulder, I felt her nod. "And I know you like
feeling sexy -" I wiggled her right nipple and was rewarded with a
little "oh!" of pleasure "- so what's the matter? If you're a whore you
get to have lots of fun sex, and people pay you money for it. Why
wouldn't you want to do that?"

"But bad things happen to whores! I saw on tv. They get arrested, and
they go to jail, and they get beat up, and they get on drugs, and they
die! I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up. I don't want to go to
jail! I don't want...oh, stop, stop!" Karen twisted in my grasp, trying
to escape my fondling, trying to escape her arousal, trying to escape
the unhappy future her childish imagination had concocted for her.

I wrapped both arms around her, squeezing her thin body against me
tightly. I rocked gently, putting little kisses on her cheek as I
spoke. "No, honey, it's not like that. I promise. I love you, I'd never
let you be hurt like that. In the first place, that's just tv. That
wouldn't happen to you. As pretty as you are, and as sexy as you are,
and as good as you are at sex -"

"Really?" Karen turned her head to look at me. Her blue eyes were wide.
"You think I'm good at it?" With that interruption, I knew I had her.
Once again, her hunger for adult approval overrode her confusion and
fear.

"Oh, gosh, yes, sweetie. When you sucked on my cock that was one of the
best orgasms I ever had. I LOVED it when you swallowed my squirt! And
you had a great orgasm too, didn't you? Didn't you?" The fifth-grader
colored slightly as she remembered kneeling naked in the damp grass,
her mouth flooded with my hot jizm, and then writhing on her back,
overwhelmed by pleasure with my two fingers shoved into her bare,
drooling cunt. But she nodded.

"As good as you are at sex," I continued, "if you become a professional
whore when you grow up, you'll be rich! You'll live in a huge apartment
somewhere on top of a skyscraper! And the police won't dare to arrest
you, because you'll be having sex with the police chief! Or the mayor,
or the governor, or even the President!" 

I was getting a little carried away, and Karen giggled. "But you always
say the President is an asshole."

"There'll be a different President by then - and watch your mouth,
young lady."

"You should watch yours," she shot back. "You're the one that says
'asshole'."

"I guess I should. But he IS an asshole." And we laughed together. With
the plasticity of youth Karen's mood had turned around but I needed to
make another point. "But second, just because you're a whore doesn't
mean you have to do it for your living. It's something true about you,
but it doesn't have to be your job. You know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look, you know I like playing the flute, right? I get together with
friends and we jam, and occasionally I sit in with a band at a club and
make a few bucks. I love playing music. I'm a musician. It's really
important to me. But I don't do it for a living."

"Why not?"

"Well, lots of reasons. You have to travel a lot, only the very best
musicians make a lot of money, stuff like that. Mostly, though, I think
having to worry about making a living would suck all the fun out of it.
The way I'm a musician - that's the same way you're a whore,
understand? It's something you like doing, it's something you're good
at - but it doesn't have to be your career. You can be a veterinarian,
you can do anything you want when you grow up. But you'll always be a
whore, too." I leaned back, pulling Karen with me so we were again
reclining together. I slid both hands up under her shirt, touching her
bare nipples for the first time. She arched her back and made a little
groan of pleasure as I tugged gently at the rubbery flesh. "Do you
understand now, Karen?"

"Yesssss...." she sighed into my ear.

It was hard for me to believe that just a few weeks ago Karen had been
as innocent and ignorant of sex as any child her age, making her first
tentative forays into pleasuring herself. If she hadn't accidentally
seen me ejaculate onto her naked little sister, she probably still
would be. I'd involved her in our sex play, overcoming her great
reluctance, only to make it a shared secret she'd be ashamed to tell.
But I had discovered an unsuspected depth of sexuality in the preteen.
She became constantly horny, a compulsive masturbator, nearly
insatiable. Sex with an adult man seemed not just normal but inevitable
to her; and now I had convinced her that prostitution was her calling
and her fate. "I don't want you to be sad. I want you to be my
beautiful little whore. Please be my whore, Karen." There was something
irresistibly perverse about using that word to and about the cute,
innocent-looking eleven-year-old. Each time I said it my penis swelled
at the thought of her accepting the word, accepting the idea as part of
her most private self.

As I spoke I was kissing her cheek and her exposed neck. She tipped her
head back as I raised her undershirt to bare her tiny breasts to the
air. My tool was throbbing where her warm skin pressed against my
pants. I slid my right hand down her stomach and underneath the
waistband of her panties, stroking her barely-fuzzed mound before
pushing lower to trace her smooth lips.

"Oooooooh," the fifth-grader moaned at my touch, writhing back into my
embrace. I could feel the heat rising from her juvenile cunt as I
rubbed my middle finger up and down her slit. Her juice started to flow
as she flowered open, and as soon as my finger was well-lubricated I
curled it and pressed inward, penetrating her in one smooth motion.
"AaaaaAAGH!" she cried, her body stiffening with pleasure as she felt
herself violated yet again. Her legs drew up and open involuntarily,
urging my finger deeper into her.

I pumped my curled finger slowly in and out of the tightness and slick
heat of Karen's pubescent channel, pressing my palm against her
clitoris that swelled and heated beneath it. Cunt cream squished out
around my finger and coated my hand and her entire vulva, soaking
through her panties. Her legs twitched and danced around between mine,
her delicate toes curling and pressing against the soles of her
sandals. 

"Oh!...Ah!...AHH!...Ooooh!" She moaned and gasped in her high, girlish
voice as I finger-fucked her more rapidly. I held her hot, near-naked
body tightly and reveled in the feeling as she moaned and squirmed
against me. Her head rolled from side to side where it lay against my
shoulder. She reached her arms up and over our heads, pushing her
swollen peaks up as she arched her back further. I gazed down at her
heaving titties, noting the flush spreading across her upper chest and
the knobs of her prominent hipbones moving as she twisted her pelvis
from side to side against my wrist where it disappeared into her
panties, now wet with her baby honey. Her vocalizations became more
insistent as her arousal built rapidly to a peak. "AaaAH! AaaAH!
AaaaAAIEE!" When I felt her cunt squeeze hard on my finger I mashed my
palm against her swollen clitoris and was rewarded with the feeling of
the eleven-year-old's body trembling violently against me. "Ah-HAH!
Ah-HAH! Ah-HAH!" Her legs shot out with each gasping moan as she
spasmed.

"Ahhhhhhh..." Slowly Karen's body relaxed against my adult form. She
caught her breath as I slid my finger easily out of her vagina. Her
oversized clitoris stood out proud inside her now-soaking panties and I
rubbed it gently between my thumb and forefinger, making her stretch
against me and murmur with pleasure. With my other hand I went back to
stroking her sweaty forehead. The flowery scent of her baby shampoo now
competed with the strong, slightly pungent smell of her cunt juice. My
cock ached for release, pressed against her back, but I could wait.

"That was nice, wasn't it?" I asked. Eyes closed, full red lips parted,
Karen nodded. "Do you feel better now?" She nodded again. "I'm glad.
Let's get downstairs now and get your homework done, OK?" I helped her
sit up on the edge of the bed and moved to kneel before her. "Oh, your
panties are all soaked. Let's get them off." I slid the wet fabric
under her butt and down and off her slim legs, then used them to wipe
away the creamy secretions that still oozed from her vagina and clung
to her inner lips. Then as she watched, I took out my wallet and
extracted three dollar bills and set them on the bed next to her.
"That's for you, sweetie. You just earned it."

The child was still dazed from the aftermath of her emotional upset and
her orgasm. Her eyes were a little puffy and red from crying. She
looked around the room vaguely. "...I have to change," she repeated for
the third time.

"No, you know what?" I said briskly. "I think you should just stay
naked. You look so pretty, I love looking at your body, and if you're
going to be a good whore you should get used to being naked as much as
possible." As I spoke I grabbed her undershirt, already bunched up over
her nipples, and lifted it up and over her head and off.

Karen didn't resist; she automatically raised her arms as I removed her
only remaining garment. "But...what about Renee...?" she asked
uncertainly.

"Oh, she'll understand. She knows you're a whore now." Karen blushed.
Being naked in front of an adult, even being masturbated to orgasm no
longer seemed to embarrass her but at the thought of others knowing of
her secret urges, her sense of propriety reasserted itself. "I think
we'll make that the rule while I'm here, that after school you'll
change into your birthday suit."

"When I go outside to play...?"

"Well of course you'll get dressed then, silly! You don't want everyone
to know you're a whore, do you?" She shook her head emphatically, her
ponytail flying from side to side. "It's your private business," I
continued. "For now it's just between you and me and Renee. You don't
want your friends, or your teachers, or the people at church, or even
Mommy and Daddy to know. They'd all say you were too little to be a
whore. They wouldn't know how sexy and mature you are already." The
naked child warmed to my praise, but I could tell she was still
conflicted - about keeping secrets, about whether her secret was a
source of pride or shame or both. That confusion worked to my
advantage; in her uncertainty her natural tendency was to look to
adults for guidance, but I was now the only adult she could talk to
about this. As long as I could keep her emotionally isolated like that
I expected no further problems.

I took Karen's hand and we stood together. I made sure she saw me
adjust my boner. "There's just one more thing. You remember how you hit
your sister in my truck? When she teased you? You still have to be
punished for that." Karen's eyes widened in fear at the mention of
punishment. "Oh, don't worry, sweetie, it'll be OK. What you did was
bad and you need to be punished, but it won't be hard. It won't hurt
and it's something you need to learn anyway." I explained to Karen what
I had in mind as she walked hand-in-hand downstairs with me, naked
except for her sandals. In my other hand I still held her soaked
panties, redolent with her preteen scent. I lifted them to my nose and
inhaled deeply.

To be continued.

***************

Note: This is actually about half of what I originally intended for
chapter 5. But since there's been a bit of a delay since I posted
chapter 4, and since it's kind of a natural stopping point I decided to
break here. As always, thanks for your feedback and suggestions. Watch
for chapter 6 coming soon, wherein - if things go as planned - Karen
finally goes "all the way"!

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