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Message-ID: <57330asstr$1203657003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "c c" <ccccc54321@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} LITTLE BLIND GIRL
Lines: 850
Date: Fri, 22 Feb 2008 00:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


to ASSTR

I am submitting some stories for the ASSTR site. They used to be
available in the Velocity collection, but this seems to be 'down', so
I am resubmitting them.

<1st attachment, "lbg.rtf" begin>

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   LITTLE BLIND GIRL



   BY CC



   "Oh, won't someone help me?  Please, somebody help me, please, please!"
The little girl's cries went ringing out, but in the hubbub and commotion
no one answered her.  She could hear the crackle, and feel the heat of the
flames.  She felt her way along the brick wall.  The wrong way; she could
feel the increasing heat of the bricks.  She turned around, but quickly hit
a cul-de-sac.  She was desperate, and, despite the risk, she decided she
would have to strike out into the open, away from the meager comfort of a
wall she could touch.  She wished she had her cane, but in the rush out of
the orphanage, it had been knocked from her hand, and no one had paid any
heed to her pleas that it be returned to her.



   Once outside the building, she had been quickly left behind, no one
caring about the little blind girl who couldn't keep up.  She had always
been too much trouble to them anyway.  *****-ia had little money to spare
on orphanages, and less for 'special needs' children.  If the staff had
been able to work her more than they did, they would have.  As it was, she
was pressed into service in the kitchen, mostly, peeling potatoes or other
tasks for which sight was unnecessary.



   She was punished frequently, as most of the children were, and somewhat
harshly.  A kind word and a hug after each whipping would have gone far to
ameliorate the effects, perhaps even leave her feeling deserving and
grateful for the attention.  But there were no hugs for the little blind
girl.  Her only comfort in life thus far had been a missionary couple who
had spent some time ministering to the children in the orphanage, during
one of the periods in which *****-ia's government was willing to allow it.
Under those sweet souls' guidance she had even converted.  But they had
left, perforce, and she was alone again.  She had some dim awareness of the
fact that the treatment she received was not what it should be.  Indeed, it
was worse than she knew.  Being more vulnerable than most of the children,
and sweetly pretty to boot, the mostly male staff of the orphanage singled
her out for corporal punishment.  For as long as she could remember, she
would be frequently stripped, and a strop or switch applied to her bottom
and thighs as she yelped.  Now she was approaching ten years old, and the
aim of her tormentors was shifting: more and more of their strokes landed
on the front of her thighs, sometimes even smacking full upon her unfledged
cleftlips and clitoris.  Afterwards one or another of the staff would
pretend to 'check' her, rubbing her bottom, their hands trailing towards
her girlhood.



   All this attention could not fail to affect her.  In her little bed at
night she couldn't help but remember each episode.  She feared the
discipline, the sting on her naked body, the shame of knowing she was so
exposed to grown men while still a preteen.  But somehow each session left
her...unsatisfied, and as she lay in bed her fingers strayed to her little
girlcleft, pressing and rubbing, as she stifled the little cries she would
have made if she weren't afraid that someone would hear her.



   She had no hope that her lot would improve anytime soon.  There was no
one to tell about it, for one thing.  She had become aware that the police
chief, and the local inspector, who should have been monitoring the care of
the children, would often be invited over to witness, and even take a hand
in, her punishments, and those of some of the other children.  She had
heard rumors of what happened to the girls who were just a little older
than she...



   She gingerly stepped away from the wall, still calling out to anyone who
might be willing to help her.  At least she felt the heat of the fire
fading.  But people were still rushing past her, no one stopping, no one
saying anything to her.  As little comfort as they were to her, she would
have been glad to find any of the staff at the orphanage, or the other
children.  None were around, seemingly.



   "Lost yer chums, little missy?" The voice was suddenly right next to
her, and she started back, but tripped over some debris in the street and
fell, fortunately without injury.  She was too stunned to resist as a hand
grasped her arm roughly and hauled her to her feet.  "It's dangerous out
here, now ain't it, little missy, especially for someone like you!  I think
you'd better be comin' with me." Without waiting for a reply from her, the
man (she could tell that from his voice, and strength...and smell!) hustled
her down the street.  She came to herself, realizing that she was in at
least as much peril with him than without him, and probably more.  She
struggled and kicked, still hollering for help, seemingly uselessly;
certainly he seemed not to mind, paying no more attention to her resistance
than a tree would.



   There was a bump, almost a shock; it seemed as if something had collided
with the man.  His grip slackened, then fell away.  She heard him grunt,
panting, as if he was straining at something heavy, then silence from him.



   "Are you all right, little one?" The voice was soft, a pleasant
baritone.



   "Y-yes, I guess so." She trembled, wondering who this was, what would he
do with her.  How would all this turn out?



   "Did he...hurt you?"



   "No, I'm all right.  He scared me!" She felt the tears, so close to the
surface even at the best of times, now leaking out of her sightless eyes.



   A soft touch, not the man's hand that she expected to feel at any time,
but a cottony gentleness, was pressed against her cheek.  She reached up
and took it; a man's handkerchief, smelling of fabric softener and bleach,
a simple thing, but finer than she was used to.  In a daze, she dabbed at
her eyes for a moment, then reached out and grabbed the man's wrists, and
flung herself into his embrace, burying her face in his shirt, sobbing
uncontrollably.  He gently enfolded his arms about her, rocking her back
and forth as her shoulders shook.



   "Little one...little one..." She came to herself to realize that he was
speaking gently to her.



   "W-what?  What did you say?" she stammered out.



   "We should get you away from here.  The fire is spreading.  It's not
safe.  Is there anywhere you want me to take you?  Someone you want me to
find for you?" His tone was gentle but insistent.  She could sense his
concern for her.



   "N-no.  NO!  I...I don't want to go back.  There's no one there I want
to be with.  W-won't you take me somewhere safe?  Please, mister?" Tears
continued to leak as she begged him.  She knew it was a risk, but he seemed
nice.  And almost anything would be better than her life so far.



   "Should I take you to the police station, then?  Surely they would..."
but she cut him off.



   "NO!  No, please!  They...I don't want...please mister, just take me
somewhere, OK?  Please?"



   "Hmmm.  I guess I could get you somewhere safe, at least for a little
while.  Follow me." He turned and headed off, assuming she would follow. 
She tried to hear his footsteps, and stay up with him, but she quickly
tripped over some debris and fell, luckily without injury.  "M-mister! 
Mister, please!" He heard her cry and spun around, leaping to her side and
lifting her gently to her feet.



   "Are you all right?!" he inquired.



   "I...I...I can't see," she finally admitted, miserably.



   "Did you hurt your eyes in the fire?" he asked.



   "N-no.  I-I never could see.  I guess I was born that way, I dunno." She
was heartsick.  Surely he would consider her worthless, too, just like the
staff at the orphanage; too much trouble to care for.



   "I'm so sorry; I didn't know.  Don't worry, I'll hold your arm and walk
more carefully.  But let's hurry as much as we can, OK?  Can't you feel the
heat?" And indeed she could; with her heightened nonvisual senses, she
could tell the fire was closing in.  She was glad to feel his arm around
her shoulders as he led her off, leaving the crackle and smoke behind.



   After a short walk, he paused, and she heard a car door opening.  "Be
careful getting in," he advised, as he slowly led her to crouch down and
slide onto the seat.  "Can you buckle yourself?"



   "...Yes, I've got them," she said as she located the ends by touch.  The
ride was smooth, and brief.  "Where are you taking me?" she finally got up
the courage to ask.



   "To my chateau.  Is that all right?"



   "Y-yes.  I guess so.  I dunno where else to go," she added despondently.



   "Please don't be so sad," he told her.  "I'll help you as much as I can.
I won't give you up to anyone you don't want to be with.  I won't let
anyone hurt you.  You're a beautiful little girl," she made no sign, but
inwardly she brightened at this; no one had ever called her beautiful
before!  "And I want to take care of you any way I can," he finished.  She
settled back in her seat, satisfied for the moment.



   They arrived at the chateau and he escorted her in.  He took her to a
room with a soft sofa and sat her down.  "You stay there for a moment.  Are
you hungry?"



   "Yes!" she exclaimed.  He grinned, then caught himself, realizing she
couldn't see him.



   "Good!" he said, "I'll get you some lunch."



   After she had eaten, he led her to the room he planned for her to stay
in.  She asked him to let her feel her way around it, after removing any
objects in the middle of the room.  She sped around the perimeter with a
deft touch, learning her way by feel.  He marveled at her.  She did the
same thing in the bathroom, and then said, "C-could you...ummm..."



   "Oh.  OH, sure!  Sure, I'm sorry.  Here.  Here's a bell," he handed her
a small copper bell.  "If you need anything, or just want to talk, ring it.
I'll be back in a little while, anyway.  OK?"



   "OK!" He closed the door behind him.



   For the next few weeks she lived an idyllic life.  He was there to help
her with anything she wanted.  She ate better than she ever had.  Her
sheets were soft.  He bought her new clothes, that fit her, and were so
much more comfortable than what she had worn before.  And there was music!
Beautiful string quartets, and symphonies!  And Dr.  Ferrel (he had
introduced himself, of course) could play the piano so wonderfully.  Nadya
(for that was the girl's name) would sit and listen to him for an hour or
more, eyes closed, swaying in time to the music.



   And they would sit and talk.  Guilelessly she told him all about her
short, sad life.  He marveled at the sweetness she had retained despite her
suffering.  And he was...aroused by certain of her experiences.  For she
had left nothing out, even recounting her treatment at the hands of the
staff, and her own reactions to it.



   Dr Ferrel knew himself, and he knew something would have to change. 
Finally he sat Nadya down for a serious talk.  "Little one, I need to tell
you something.  You have become very dear to me." She smiled shyly, still
facing partly away, as was her wont.  It made more sense to turn one ear
towards him, rather than her eyes, after all.  "But you must know something
about me.  I find that I can't keep going on the way we have been.  It is
getting too hard on me." She looked stricken.  She was too much of a
bother!



   "Oh, Dr Ferrel, please, please don't send me away!  I can help out!  I
can learn my way around the kitchen, and peel potatoes, and..." He cut her
off, aghast that she had jumped to such a conclusion.



   "No, no!  That's not what I mean at all!  I don't want you to go.  Quite
the opposite.  Let me explain." She was mollified for the moment, and sat
back to listen.



   "First I have to know how much you know about some things.  Do you know
what it means to be married?" Though blind, she had perhaps instinctively
mastered the typical preteen
'of-course-I-know-that-do-you-think-I'm-stupid?' look.  "I'll take that for
a yes," he chuckled.



   "Then let me ask you this: do you know what sex is?" She looked down;
she wasn't sure she liked where this was going.



   "Yes..."



   "Do you know what 'sexual desire' is?" She looked puzzled.  "Sexual
desire is like being hungry for food, only it's 'hungry' for having sex. 
Most men have this desire often.  Many women and girls do, too.  Do you
understand so far?"



   "...Uh-huh."



   "There actually are different types of sexual desire.  Most men just
have sexual desire for women and girls, usually pretty ones.  But some men
have other desires in addition to that.  These other desires are called
'fetishes', and they come in many different forms.  For instance, believe
it or not, little one, there are some men who don't get fully sexually
excited unless the woman they are with is wearing shoes, sometimes a
particular type of shoes, like high-heeled red ones." She looked
astonished. "It's true!  And there's many other totally different kinds of
fetishes.



   "You might have guessed why I'm telling you all this.  I am one of those
men who have a fetish.  Actually two of them.  One of them is this: I enjoy
spanking and sexually punishing a girl before and during sex.  Oh, I can
have sex without it, but it's much more enjoyable for me with it.  I'm not
talking about anything very painful; just the kind of punishments that any
father might give his little girl if she's been naughty.  But I do them...a
little differently!



   "The other desire I have is to have sex with a very young girl.  A girl
with slim hips, like yours," and he traced his hand over hers, as she froze
to the touch, freaked out, but at the same time not scared at all.  "And
only buds for breasts, like you," and he caressed her little nipples
through her thin blouse, making her tremble.  "And the face of an angel,
like yours," and he kissed her full on the mouth, not deep, but long and
sweet.  She was swaying where she sat, eyes half-closed, when he finally
drew away.  He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face towards his.
"So that's how it is, little one.  I desire you.  I love you.  I want to
take you as my daughter, and my wife, and my slave.  I will love you, and
cherish you, protect you, and care for you.  I will also punish you, and
use you sexually, like a husband with his wife, and a master with his
slavegirl.



   "But if you don't want that, I understand.  It's a lot to ask!  But if I
can't have you completely, then I don't think I can bear to keep on living
in the same house as you; it would be too frustrating for me!  So I'd
probably find another orphanage for you to stay in, I guess..." She pulled
a face, the universal preteen 'yuck' face.  "I'll take that to mean you
don't like that idea," he chuckled.  She smiled shyly.  "Well, little one,
I'll tell you what.  You sit here and think about it for a while.  You
don't have to decide right away.  But sometime in the next few days I need
to know what you want to do." He smoothed her hair back and kissed her
forehead, then left her alone.



   He went into the next room, hoping against hope that she would decide
right away, but fearing it would be a few days at best, and then not
favourable.  He was startled to hear, only a few minutes later, the little
handbell tinkle.  He rushed back in to find her with her arms stretched out
towards the sound of his approach.  He swept her up into his arms, lifting
her off her feet and hugging her tight as her little sweet voice tickled
his ear, "I wanna stay with you!  I wanna stay with you!" He held her for a
long time, just reveling in the feel of her slender body pressed against
his, nuzzling her silky hair, feeling her little sighs, receiving her
butterfly kisses.



   After a while he gently set her down, and spoke softly in her ear, "I
think you've been a naughty little girl.  You need a spanking." She
stiffened for a moment, then relaxed against him, trembling.  "Shhh, shhh,
it's OK, it's all right.  Don't be afraid.  Listen carefully, little one.
If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say 'No' or 'Ow' or 'don't'
or 'stop'.  Understand?"



   "Y-yes," she replied, still trembling.



   He gently bent her under his arm, tossed up her skirt, and gave her a
few light swats on her bottom.  Then he let her up.  She straightened, her
little face screwed up in a quizzical look.  "Is that all?  They used to
whip me MUCH harder than that!  You-yer gonna have to spank me harder, and
longer.  That wasn't nuthin'!" She bent herself under his arm again and
waited.  He gaped in astonishment, but quickly collected himself, not about
to pass up the marvelous gift she was giving him.  He proceeded to give her
a brisk, business-like spanking, smacking one cheek then the other, as she
danced and jiggled, moaning and yelping.  But she never said 'Ow' or
'don't'!



   As he spanked her, she was in almost a daze.  It was as if she was back
in the orphanage, somehow, being punished like she used to be.  Or perhaps
she was really in her little bed at night, pretending to be punished,
spanking her own bottom, rubbing herself...She half expected to be abused
as she had been before, neglected, unloved...But then he was done spanking
her, and stood her up, and enfolded her in his arms gently, and held her,
and rocked her, and reached down to rub her reddened bottom as she
whimpered and sniffled.



   The next day Dr Ferrel lost no time.  He made the necessary connections,
and soon had both adoption papers and a marriage license for Nadya and
himself.  A short wedding ceremony before a friendly priest with
well-crossed palm completed the arrangements.  Then they were home, and up
in his room, and he stood her in the middle of the room and kissed her. 
"It's time for me to see my little daughter, and slave, and wife." He began
to unbutton her blouse as she shivered.  One piece after another was
removed, and soon she stood naked before him.



   She was gorgeous.  A stunning preteen, the top of her head barely coming
up to his chest.  Long, silky dark blonde hair.  She was heartbreakingly
slender, despite her recently improved nutrition.  Her breasts were mere
buds, topped by little nipples, barely breaking the plane of her chest. 
Her slim thighs framed her unfledged girlcleft, puffy immature lips around
a prominent clitoris.  She shivered at the thought that she was so exposed
to him, although of course she had no conception of what it was like for
him to see her.



   Then he took off all his own clothes and stood before her.  "You see
with your hands, don't you, little one?  Then come take a good look at me."



   She reached out and stroked his face.  She'd run her fingers over it
before, loving the feel of his shaven cheeks and jaw, his strong nose, his
bushy eyebrows.  Then she ran down his neck, to his hairy chest which she
had not felt before.  Then down, down, until suddenly she encountered the
end of his rampant rod.  She gasped, and jerked her hand back for a moment,
but he just stood there, stolidly, waiting.  Gingerly she reached out and
touched his glans with one finger, then her hand, running up and down the
shaft, taking in the size of it.  He was really little more than average
length, but of course his rod seemed enormous to a ten-year-old's hand.



   As she gingerly touched it, he commanded, "Show me where that goes,
little one." She was startled for a moment, but then, almost mischievously,
she pointed between her legs.  "Very good.  Now show me where else it
goes." She was stumped for a moment, but dredged up memories of some of the
teens in the orphanage, talking about...She pointed to her mouth,
questioningly.  "That's right.  It goes there, too.  Now," and his voice
sank to a hoarse whisper, "Where else does it go?  The only place left it
could go?" She was dumbfounded, stricken for a moment.  Shaking, her hand
crept back between her legs, reaching for her anus...



   He caught her up in his arms again, now enfolded in a wonderful
skin-to-skin hug.  He meandered over to the bed and sat down, pulling her
across his lap as he did so.  His hard rod pressed against her waist as his
hard hand spanked her thoroughly, her little naked body jerking and rocking
with each smack.  Suddenly he stopped, spun her over in his lap so that she
was lying face up, and gave her 3 sharp smacks directly onto her girlhood
as she cried out wildly.  Then he was holding her, soothing her, rubbing
her gently on her cleft and clitoris as she moaned and trembled.  Soon her
little hips were moving of their own accord, pressing her moistening cleft
against his insistent hand.  She was yipping and yelping, bucking and
rocking, and finally coming on his hand as he punctuated his caresses with
sharp smacks to her clitoris that drove her to distraction.



   Finally she was spent, lying in his arms, burning and murmuring.  He let
her relax for a while, but his frustration was almost unbearable.  "Get up,
little one, I want you on your knees before me." She slowly arose,
shivering as he slid his hands up and down her slender body.  Now she was
kneeling on the bed as he stood in front of her, his erect manhood, had she
been able to see it, only inches from her lips.  He kissed her forehead and
cheek, then her lips.  "I'm going to rape your mouth now," he told her. 
"Make a tunnel with your tongue and the roof of your mouth."



   She complied, eyes closed now with embarrassment and anticipation.  "You
don't need to move your mouth or anything; I'll take care of that.  But
something will come out of me when I'm done." She stiffened in alarm. 
"Don't worry, it's not pee!" She relaxed.  "I want you to swallow what
comes out; many girls do."



   He took her face and head in his hands and moved in.  She trembled when
his glans touched her lips, but didn't resist as he slid into her little
mouth.  Even halfway in, as far as he thought he could go without gagging
her, his shaft filled and stretched her lips.  He worked in and out of her
as she whimpered softly.  Even though he had occasionally relieved himself
since the little blind girl had come to live with him, the scene was too
intense; the sight, sound, and feel of a little preteen girl with his
manhood in her mouth was more fetching than anything he'd ever experienced.
In no time he was emptying himself in her mouth as she struggled to swallow
all of the unexpected rush of hot liquid.  In her naivete she was unable
to, and much of it dribbled out of her mouth and onto her chest, then down
her belly.



   As he groaned out the last of his climax, he slipped out of her, grabbed
up a nearby towel, and tenderly wiped her face.  Then, careless of any
traces of his seed still remaining on her lips, he lifted her up and kissed
her long and sweetly.  He lay down with her on the bed, cuddling her,
kissing her silky hair, caressing her cheek, whispering in her ear how much
he loved her as she snuggled into his chest, profoundly happy for the first
time in her life.



   He awoke in the late evening to find her still snuggled against him.  He
propped up on one elbow and surveyed the scene: a beautiful, blind, preteen
girl was naked and snuggled up against him, having been stripped naked and
sexually punished by him, brought to a noisy orgasm by him, and having been
orally raped by him.  It was altogether the most glorious experience he had
ever had.  He had come to *****-ia to train local doctors in medical
techniques, and to treat some of the government officials, so he had some
influence and power.  Which he had been somewhat counting on, as he had
another purpose in coming, one which had been fortuitously fulfilled in a
manner he did not intend: to obtain a preteen girl to be his little
slave-daughter-wife.  And now his deepest desire had come true, and in such
a remarkable and delightful way!



   The next few days they spent in a loving daze.  He took her to the
symphony, a jazz concert, to hear the birds at the park.  He played, and
she sang (a sweet little voice) *****-ian folk songs.  He taught her
Braille, to her evident delight.



   Whenever he felt like it he would run his hands over her body through
her clothes, or slip them up inside her blouse or skirt, molesting her
charms as she moaned.  He spanked her often, even tossing her skirt up on
the edge of a public place and smacking her bottom, a few people noticing
as if on the periphery of their vision, not quite sure what was going on,
the brief discipline over before they could figure out that it was a
preteen girl being spanked on her naked bottom, her little cleft exposed
for any to see who were close enough.



   Every evening before bed he punished her thoroughly, whipping her
thighs, bottom, and breasts as she trembled and yelped.  It was
particularly attractive to him, that she could not see him.  Of course, if
she had her sight, he could still have used a blindfold, but she was so
pretty, he was glad he didn't have to cover her looks up, and still have
the same effect.  He could walk quietly around her, and swing the crop, or
belt, or switch, wherever he wanted to, and she'd have no idea where it
would land next.  It seemed to increase her anxiety nicely, such that, even
before the stroke would land, she would already be whimpering and
shivering. And, after he had punished her to orgasm, he finished by raping
her mouth with welcome relief.



   His frustration was building again, and he decided it was time to move
on.  That day he asked her, "Would you like to go with me on a little
trip?" She agreed enthusiastically.  She would go anywhere with him, and
trusted him to make it wonderful for her.



   He had been preparing for this, and had her travel papers and ticket
ready.  Before she knew it, she was in a large building, with many people
walking around, and loudspeakers unintelligibly announcing...something, she
couldn't make out what.  She held his hand tightly as they threaded their
way to their destination.  She could tell that they stood in a short line,
then walked down a narrow hallway, up a few steps, then they were in a very
narrow corridor between what felt like padded seats.  He settled her in one
of them.  It was quite comfortable.



   "Would you like one of these, honey?" A friendly woman's voice was
speaking to her, she could tell, but she didn't know what she was offering.
She began to reach out to feel it, but her master's voice broke in.



   "It's all right, you couldn't know; she's blind, she can't see what
you're offering." He was speaking softly, so that only she and the woman
could hear.



   "Oh, I'm terribly sorry!  It-it's a pillow, dear, would you like one?"



   "Yes, please, thank you very much.  I'm sorry I couldn't tell what it
was." She was sorry, too, that the woman was distressed.  But where were
they?  Why did she bring her a pillow?



   "We'll be taking off soon, so settle in and fasten your seat belts. 
I'll be back with lunch once we're in the air."



   In the air!  Did that mean...?  She turned to her Master excitedly, but
before she could even ask, he said, "Yes, little one, we're on a plane. 
Try and guess where we're going."



   She sat back and thought of all the wonderful places he might take her.
Her mind was a whirl.  "Paris?"



   "Paris is nice, but this is much more fun than Paris."



   "Oh, tell me tell me, please tell me Master!" A few heads turned at
this. Why did the little girl call her father 'Master'?  Oh well, none of
their business...



   "I tell you what.  You wait a little while and keep listening, and see
if you can pick up any clues, OK?"



   "OK!"



   She gripped his arm as the plane accelerated for take-off.  Idly, the
other first-class passengers wondered why the little girl didn't look out
the window...



   Once in the air, Dr Ferrel took a blanket and spread it over her lap,
solicitously.  Then he slipped his hand underneath it, out of sight.  Soon
she had something to occupy her mind!  She tried to keep her breathing
soft, but she couldn't help the screwed-up look on her face as her Master
seized her unfledged cleftlips, and pinched and twisted her clitoris.  The
other passengers probably just thought she was scared of flying, or perhaps
a little air-sick...



   She almost missed it.  "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Edwards
speaking.  We're cruising at 10,000 feet, we've got a good tailwind, and we
should make Orlando ahead of schedule.  The weather at DisneyWorld is fair,
80 degrees, with no rain in sight.  Have a nice flight!"



   She gasped, and one of her rare smiles lit up the cabin.  He smoothly
slid his hand up from her cleft and caressed her cheek.  She pressed it
against his hand in love and gratitude.



   Her head was a whirl of emotion and expectation.  The flight seemed to
go so slow, and yet simultaneously it seemed like no time before they were
settling in at the Polynesian.



   Dr Ferrel had checked ahead of time, and it was as he expected: Disney
does almost everything well.  They even had an entire package for blind
children.  She was met at the door of the hotel by Goofy, who took her by
the hand and helped her touch anything she wanted to, and pointed out
special features to her.  Of course there was Braille everywhere, and she
delighted her hosts by reading out all the signs in *****-ian, and then in
her halting English.



   It was late, and there was no time to go to the park that evening, so
they retired to their suite.  Then it was Mickey who led Nadya by the hand
as she giggled.  Dr Ferrel followed with a tolerantly amused smile.



   Those who saw them check in assumed they were father and daughter,
perhaps even grandfather and granddaughter.  How surprised and shocked they
would have been to learn that they were married!  And more than that, that
the pretty little blind preteen girl was the grown man's slavegirl.  And
surely none of them dreamed that, in room 352, a little ten-year-old girl
was going to be spanked, and molested, and raped by a grown man.  But
that's exactly what happened.



   After she had relieved herself and bathed, he arranged her on her back,
naked on the bed, and knelt over her, kissing her all over.  Her forehead,
her eyelids, her glabella, the tip of her sweet upturned nose, dusted with
freckles.  Then her soft mouth, butterfly kisses back from her, the tip of
her tongue even darting out to touch his, bringing spasms to his rod!  Then
nibbling her neck, her delicate collarbone, then fastening onto first one
nipple, then the other, sucking, pulling, biting as she moaned and writhed.
Down to her bellybutton, pausing to blow a flurbish into it, making her
giggle.  "No laughing," he commanded, but with a smile in his voice, and
smacked her once on her cleft, sharply, making her gasp.



   Then he was there, essentially raping her preteen sex with his mouth,
unceremoniously probing hard for her hymen as she arched and spasmed,
rasping her unfledged labia with his tongue, then taking her turgid
clitoris in long, excruciating bites between tongue and teeth as she nearly
screamed, bucking and rocking, clearly approaching climax.  He rose up,
positioned his rampant rod at her cleftlips, and thrust firmly, raping her
of her maidenhead, driving for her cervix, as she yelled once, loudly, then
wept and wept, shoulders shaking, as he just held her, kissing the top of
her head which barely reached his chest, rocking her softly.  He stayed
buried within her, not moving, but pulsating inside her, until her distress
died down to the occasional sob and sniffle.  He began to piston in and out
of her, long, firm strokes, as she cried out rhythmically with each one. 
The experience was overwhelming.  He loved her so much, she was so sweet,
her little cleft was so tight and yet so soft, her little cries went
straight to his brain as he raped her and raped her, and she danced on the
end of his rod.  Then she was coming, spasming, wrapping her little legs as
far as they would go around him, pulling her hair, beating on his sides,
screaming.  And he came inside her, emptying his seed at her cervix,
pinning her to the bed with each stroke, then finally collapsing beside her
as they clung to each other in the afterglow.  She fell asleep in his arms.



   Later that night he awoke to find her still nestled up against him, her
sweet naked body pressed close to his.  His rod was stirring.  He couldn't
resist using her again, so he arranged her in position, chest on the bed,
knees on the floor.  She roused a bit, but didn't wake, until he began
spanking her bottom!  Then she awoke with a startled cry, staring about
wildly.  He swept her into his arms, cuddling her, rocking her, soothing
away the night fear.  She relaxed against him.  Then, surprising him, she
slid out of his hands and resumed her position!  He hugged her, kissed her
hair, called her his sweet beautiful little girl.



   Then he spanked her and spanked her, again reddening her still-tender
bottom as she yelped.  He lubricated his free hand, reached around her, and
seized her cleftlips and clitoris, kneading and working, pinching and
pulling, as he continued her discipline.  Soon she was nearing climax, and
he was hard as a rock!  He squirted some lubricant on her rosebud, placed
the end of his rod there, and thrust deeply into her, raping her of the
virginity of her anus as she screamed.  He couldn't believe how amazingly
stimulating it was, to have his rod buried deeply in the anus of his
pretty, slender, preteen daughter-slave-wife!  She was so tight, so warm;
he could feel her sphincter tighten spasmodically on his shaft, reacting to
the violation of so private a place.  He stayed buried in her as she
wailed, her shoulders shaking, for a few moments.  Then she calmed down to
the occasional sob and sniffle, so he commenced to rape her anus in
earnest, with long, hard, fast thrusts, pounding into her as she cried out
rhythmically, "AAAA-AAAA-AAAA!" He reached around and continued to molest
her unfledged cleft and clitoris, as he violated her bottomflower, and soon
she was coming again, yelping and yipping, and he came too, emptying his
seed in her rectum, as she spasmed and arched under him.  Again they
collapsed together on the bed, he shifting his weight to one side so as not
to crush her, as she continued to shudder and moan, until she fell asleep
in his arms.



   And, yes, they actually did leave the hotel room the next day and go to
the Magic Kingdom; she was only ten, after all!



   The End










   
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