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Message-ID: <57334asstr$1203660603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "c c" <ccccc54321@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} THE PHOTOGRAPHER'S GIRL
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Date: Fri, 22 Feb 2008 01:10:03 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Another story that used to be in Velocity's collection.

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   THE PHOTOGRAPHER'S GIRL



   BY CC & VELOCITY





   [SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!] "AAA-AAA-AAA!" The little girl cried out as her
Daddy spanked her bottom briskly.  Her Mommy looked on intently, watching
her daughter's bottom redden, her hand gripping her husbands shoulder. 
When he perceived the child to be sufficiently chastened, he stopped
spanking, laying his hand on her bottom to gently rub it as she whimpered
softly.



   "D-don't you think she needs a few more smacks?" his wife asked, eyes
half closed, breathing a little heavily.



   "No, darling, I think that's enough.  She's only nine, after all," the
child's father replied.  He pulled the little girl up to a hug that his
wife joined in on, rocking the child back and forth as her little sobs died
away.  "Go stand in the corner, now, Kristin," he commanded, and the girl
dispiritedly shuffled off, panties still around her ankles, knowing better
than to try and pull them up, or let her skirt loose from where it was
tucked into her waistband.  She stood in the corner, a fetching sight with
her bare, reddened bottom completely exposed.



   Mr.  and Mrs.  Randolph sauntered into the kitchen, out of little
Kristin's sight.  "You know I really appreciate how you take such a firm
hand with Kristin's discipline.  My daddy always spanked me when I was
naughty, and it worked out fine." She pressed her body against his and put
her face up for a kiss.  He took her in his arms and obliged her,
passionately running his hands up and down her slender form.  "Let's let
the poor kid out of the corner and set her up with a nice, long video, eh?"
she whispered in his ear.  Soon they were in their bedroom with the door
locked...



   Theirs was a happy little family, with the usual round of work, school
(Kristin was homeschooled), church, gymnastics (Kristin was quite limber,
and cute as a button in her leotards).  But darker days lay around the
corner...



   "There's nothing else to do.  We'll have to sell the house.  We won't
get much for it, though.  We'll have to sell...everything.  We're just in
too deep, and the business just isn't cutting it." Mr.  Randolph was
despondent.



   "Isn't there anything else we can do, John?  It'll be so hard on
Kristin. And where will we live?" Mrs.  Randolph replied.



   Mr.  Randolph just shook his head, "I can't see what, Karla, I just
can't see what to do."



   A pall lay over the household for a few days.  Even little Kristin
noticed it.  "Mommy, what's wrong?" she finally asked her mother after one
deep sigh too many from the latter.  Her mother tried to explain the
problem in terms the girl could understand.  "We should call Carl!" she
exclaimed.  "I bet he would help!"



   Carl Lawford was a young man who had spent 2 years in the Randolph
household when Kristin was 5 and 6.  She had taken a deep liking to him. 
He was a distant relative, and was struggling to start a photography
business.  He had begun to do well, had gone off on his own, and the last
they heard he was flourishing.  The Randolph's had lost touch with him for
the last year, life being the busy thing that it is.



   He had fit in very well with the family during his stay.  He helped out
greatly in the house, cooking, cleaning, even doing laundry.  He
accompanied them to church, and helped Kristin with her homeschool work. 
She loved him, and he seemed to dote on her, although never in an
inappropriate way, as far as her parents could tell.  They eventually
looked on him as something like her big brother, or second father.  He
often got her up in the morning, and made her breakfast.  There had been
times when he had even taken a hand in her discipline, literally...



   [CRASH!] The jar of candy little 6-year-old Kristin had sneaked off the
shelf for the umpteenth time slipped out of her hands and fell to the
floor. "Kristin Marie!" her mother shouted from the next room where she had
her hands full with the laundry, "That's the last straw!"



   "Carl!" she called to the young man, already bounding up the stairs to
make sure Kristin was all right.  "Kristin needs a good spanking, and my
hands are full.  Would you bring her in here and tan her behind?" The
boarder was a little startled, but he saw no reason not to comply. 
Besides, his mind was all ready filling with the thought of his hand
smacking the little girl's tender bare bottom...



   [WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!] Carl smacked Kristin's little panty-covered bottom as
she hollered.  Really, he wasn't spanking her very hard.  Her mom noticed.
"Carl, you're going to have to spank her a bit harder than that to make any
difference.  And pull those panties down!  My dad always spanked me on the
bare.  She'll be embarrassed, but that's part of the punishment!" Carl
tugged her teddy-bear covered panties down to her knees and resumed her
discipline.  Little Kristin struggled and yelped in vain, blushing at her
unaccustomed punisher.  Soon her bottom was nicely reddened, and her cries
were repentant.



   Carl stopped and looked at her mother.  She had been watching intently,
eyes bright..."I guess that's enough," she said, almost reluctantly.



   Carl let the little girl up, helping her to her feet, and started to
pull up her panties, but..."No, Carl!  She has to stand in the corner for a
while with her bottom bare!" Carl managed to convey to the little girl that
he was sorry she had to do that, sorry he had to spank her, and hoped she
was OK, all with a little hug (which she returned quite firmly, startling
him) and a gentle caress of her bottom as she shuffled off.



   A similar scenario played out a number of times while Carl was staying
in the household.  It made him hard as a rock to punish the little girl
that way, and he tried to strike a balance between satisfying her mother's
requirements for the girl's discipline, his own desires, and the tenderness
he felt towards the child.  He always tried to give the girl a hug
afterwards, and made sure he spent time with her, played with her, and so
forth.  He didn't want her to just look on him as her punisher.  And indeed
she did not seem to resent him at all.  She always hugged him back, looked
forward to his arrival at any time, and begged to play with him whenever he
would allow it.



   But that was three years ago.  Kristin remembered him, but only dimly,
like a favorite character in a mostly-forgotten story, not someone she
thought of every day.  But now he sprang to her mind as a benefactor, for
some strange reason.



   Her parents looked at each other.  They were desperate, and willing to
swallow their pride, so they decided to follow their daughter's advice.



   Carl was delighted to hear from them, and sorry about their plight.  He
cut short a photo shoot he was doing and in no time was sitting in their
living room.  He could see the worry in the Randolph's faces, the strain.
He could see their straightened circumstances; certain items of furniture
were missing; the car they were driving was even older than the one they
had had when he stayed with them before.  Little Kristin was wearing
clothes that were faded, patched, too small for her.  He came to a
decision.



   He proposed a deal to the Randolphs.  He told them that he was looking
for a child model for a particular kind of photo shoot, and he thought
Kristin would be ideal.  It was a very special kind of shoot, and would be
worth a lot of money, more than the typical child model made; enough, when
it was over, to lift the Randolphs out of their hole and set them well on
their way to prosperity.  But there was a catch.  The Randolphs listened
carefully, and, after their initial shock at his proposal, talked it over
between themselves well into the evening while Carl re-acquainted himself
with Kristin.



   "Kristin, do you remember me much?" he asked her.



   "'Course I do, silly!" Kristin wrinkled up her nose at him.



   "Do you remember much of what we used to do, what I did while I was
here?" he inquired.



   "...We played some, I guess.  I dunno...I remember something: you used
to spank me!  I was always glad it was you spanking me, and not Daddy; you
were...nicer about it, somehow.  Not that Daddy was mean, but it...felt
better when you did it.  I dunno." Here she spun around, shyly, blushing a
bit at the memory of the handsome young man spanking her on her bare
bottom.



   Meanwhile, her parents had come to their decision.  Sending little
Kristin to bed, they sat down with Carl.  "We appreciate your willingness
to help us," Mr.  Randolph said.



   "But we have some...arrangements we'd like to make with you, if we're
going to do what you propose," Mrs.  Randolph added, and proceeded to
outline their ideas.  Carl listened, more and more avidly as they spoke. 
It seemed as if their additions, although they might drag the process out
somewhat, could greatly enhance the photos, and his own enjoyment as well!



   A few days went by without any action being taken.  Then, little
Kristin, as she did with fair regularity, misbehaved.  She expected to be
spanked immediately, but...



   "We've decided that you're going to be punished a little differently
now," her mommy told her.  "Carl is going to help us." She looked over
little Kristin's head at her husband; her look was difficult to interpret:
part worry, part love, part...intensity.



   "W-waddya mean, Mommy?  What's he going to do to me?" Tears were
starting in her eyes, but in truth, even if he were to spank her, she was
always glad to be with Carl.  Her mother told her to hush, she'd find out
soon enough.



   They arrived at the studio Carl had rented.  He welcomed them at the
door and took them to the room he had prepared.  Mr.  and Mrs.  Randolph
took their seats off to the side, and propelled little Kristin towards the
young man.  Carl knelt down next to her, saying, "Your mommy and daddy tell
me you've been naughty, and you need to be punished.  Isn't that right? 
Hmmm?" Her face was downcast and she didn't respond, so he tipped her chin
up.  Still avoiding his eyes, she nodded, glumly.  "Well, young lady, your
going to be punished a little differently this time."



   He took her over to a chair sitting in the middle of the main studio
area.  "Sit here," he commanded.  After doing so, she was startled when he
took some nylon rope off a nearby table and approached her.



   "W-what's going on?!  Whaddya gonna do to me?" she asked, a little
frantically.  Her mother and father exchanged somewhat worried glances. 
Carl quickly knelt beside her, speaking quietly next to her ear; her
parents couldn't make out what he said.



   "What does Alladin keep asking Princess Jasmine?  Do you remember?" Carl
thought surely she would know this; he remembered her watching the movie 3
or 4 times a day!  And he had to watch it with her half the time.



   Kristin couldn't figure out at first what he was saying, she was so
distraught.  But after he'd repeated the question, looking intently in her
eyes, willing her to focus, she remembered...



   "Do you tru...!" she began excitedly, but he cut her short with a hand
to her lips.



   "OK, you get it, right?" he asked, with a little smile on his lips. 
Relieved, but still a little anxious about whatever her punishment might
yet be, she nodded, eyes shining.  "That's my girl!"



   Then he stood up, and in a more commanding voice said, "Now, young lady,
it's time for you to be punished.  Naughty girls have to be tied up to be
properly punished." So saying, he set to work tying her to the chair.  Both
ankles were fastened each to a chair leg, and her arms were bound behind
her to the back of the chair.  He passed a rope each over her thighs, bare
where her short skirt had ridden up high on her legs.  Firm loops fastening
her ankles to the legs of the chair completed her bondage.  All the while,
unnoticed by Kristin, video cameras were capturing every moment from
multiple angles preset by Carl.



   He picked an item unfamiliar to Kristin off a nearby table.  It was a
B-Stik, an implement suggested by the girl's parents.  It looked like a
tawse, quite fearsome to any child, but it was designed to be nearly
impossible to break the skin, or even produce more pain than a bee sting
(hence the name) no matter how hard it was wielded.  Her eyes widened as
she saw him approach her with it, and he could see her fear return.  He
cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face up towards his.  He looked
intently into her eyes until she returned his regard.  He mouthed, "Do
you...?," finishing the phrase with a nod of his head, and she visibly
relaxed, although tears continued to well up in her eyes.



   He stepped back and swung the 'tawse' down across her bare thigh. 
[SWAP!] "AAAH!" Kristin cried out, more startled than in pain.  A faint red
glowed on her thigh where the discipline landed.  Then [WAP-WAP-WAP!] went
the tool as she continued to yelp and moan.  Soon her thighs were covered
with faint red marks that faded slowly.  He finished with one last sharp
stroke that left her trembling and sobbing.  Casting the 'tawse' aside, he
knelt beside her, cradling her shoulders with one arm, the other gently
caressing her reddened girlflesh.  Her tears stained his shirt as she
buried her face into it, seeming to melt against his chest in apparent
repentance and submission.  After a bit he untied her, lifted her to her
feet, and returned her to her parents with a wink and a pat on her bottom.
They gathered her up in their arms and slowly made their way to the car.



   It wasn't long before the scenario was repeated.  Having misbehaved in
some way, again Kristin was brought to the photo studio.  "Naughty again,
eh Kristin?" Carl asked genially.  She nodded glumly.  He led her to the
platform in the middle of the studio.  No chair was to be seen, but two
padded bars were in its place.  Before she knew what he was doing, Carl had
her bent over one, ankles tied to the posts on either end, and her wrists
fastened to the other.  Again he knelt in front of her and held her gaze.
She looked at him with trusting eyes and he knew he need say nothing. 
Taking the B-Stik in hand, he tossed her skirt up.  He was surprised to see
that she wore no panties, but managed to hide his startlement.  He sneaked
a peak at her parents.  They were watching intently, and it seemed to him
that he caught a quick gleam in her mother's eyes...



   He swung the 'tawse' against her bottom again and again as she yelped
and wailed.  Her little buttocks cheeks jumped and danced as they were
reddened nicely, and her cries filled the air.  Again, when her discipline
was over, he knelt and cuddled her as he caressed her bottom soothingly.



   After these sessions her parents were in a welter of emotion. 
Overlaying all was a great relief; true to his word, Carl had already
deposited a large sum of money in their account, and the pressure was off.
Naturally they were conflicted about what was happening with their little
girl, but they could see that she was not being physically harmed, and she
showed no other ill effects so far.  In fact, Carl visited their house
after the second episode for dinner, and she seemed delighted to see him,
jumping into his arms when he arrived, and monopolizing his attention
nearly the entire evening.  And her behavior had improved, at least briefly
after each of her punishments...



   In their bedroom at night, the Randolph's lovemaking was in overdrive.
Karla nearly melted into his arms after Kristin was asleep, offering her
slender body to John, who took her masterfully, glad for the renewed
intensity in his wife's desire.  But he didn't know the half of it! 
"J-John," she hesitantly whispered one night as she snuggled against him,
feeling his hard rod poke against her side through his pajamas and her
nightgown.



   "Yes, my love?" he inquired.



   "I...I've got something I...I mean..." she stammered.



   "What is it, darling?  Anything you want, you know it's OK with me," he
intoned, curious as to what could be up with her.



   "I...I want you to..spank me," she finally blurted out, then buried her
face in his chest, deeply embarrassed to have admitted it, fearing his
reaction.



   His response was to gather her even more closely in his arms and kiss
her tenderly.  He whispered, "There's nothing I'd like better than to give
my naughty little girl a good spanking." She popped her head up, startled
and joyful at his reaction.  In no time she was over his knee, the hem of
her gown tossed up, yelping and yiping like a preteen girl as he smacked
her bottom, "You've [SMACK!] been [SWAP!] such a [WHAP!] naughty [SWAK!]
girl, haven't you?" Soon her bottom was fetchingly reddened, and he paused
to rub and caress, his hand straying to her well-moistened cleft as she
gasped and moaned.  Their subsequent lovemaking was the most intense either
had ever experienced, culminating in deeply satisfying orgasms for both.



   Over the next few weeks Kristin ended up in Carl's studio three more
times, bound and spanked as she had been.  The Randolph's continued
pursuing spanking play to their deep mutual satisfaction.  For his part,
Carl planned to move the 'action' forward.



   The next time Kristin was brought to him he led her onto the platform
where two poles were erected.  She stood before him, nine-year old girl in
front of grown man.  "It's time for your punishment, young lady.  Take off
your clothes!" he commanded.  She looked startled for a moment, and glanced
over at her parents, but they looked on stolidly, a gleam in her mother's
eyes.  She looked back up at him and lost herself in his regard.  She saw
the love in his eyes, and heard again, without him asking it, that same
question, the one Alladin asked Jasmine, and she knew that she did,
completely.



   She unbuttoned her white blouse and reluctantly slipped it off her
shoulders and let it fall.  A sheer camisole was all that lay between her
nipples and his gaze.  She undid the waistband of her skirt and slowly let
it fall around her ankles and stepped out of it, revealing her thin cotton
panties with hearts and flowers imprinted on them.  She paused.  "Keep
going," he ordered, punctuating the command with the smack of his palm on
her bare thighs.  Sheyipped and hurried to obey, pulling her camisole over
her head and slipping her panties off her hips.  Soon she stood naked
before him.  She was a gorgeous preteen girl: an angel in despair.  Her
breasts were mere buds topped by little nipples, erect in her anxiety and
anticipation, barely breaking the plane of her chest, now heaving with
conflicted emotion.  She was heartbreakingly slender.  Her slim thighs
gleamed in the light framing her unfledged girlcleft which peeped from
between them.



   He took hold of her wrist and fastened on the velcro straps already
attached to one of the poles, then did likewise with her other wrist.  Her
ankles received the same treatment.  Now she was bound between the poles,
spreadeagled nearly in a cross position, a little naked preteen girl
completely exposed to a grown man's gaze.  He took up the B-Stik and began
applying it to her tender flesh, first her bottom, then the backs of her
thighs.  Then he moved around to the front of her thighs, alarmingly near
her private parts as she jerked and moaned with each stroke.  He continued
her discipline until her submission and repentance were nearly palpable in
her soft cries and the writhing in her bonds of her slender, nude, little
gymnast's body.  He completed her punishment with three quick strokes: one
on each nipple, then one full across her mons as she cried out wildly, then
slumped, panting and sobbing between the poles.  With quick, practiced
motions, Carl undid her straps and gathered her into his arms, rocking her
back and forth as she clung to him, sobbing softly, her tears staining his
shirt as she buried her face in his chest.  She gradually quieted as he
kissed the top of her head.  A glance over at her parents showed them
entwined in each other's arms, kissing passionately...



   The next night, after Kristin's bedtime, Mr Randolph lay in bed watching
the news when his wife came out of the bathroom.  He looked up and was
momentarily startled at the sight: she was dressed in childish clothes, a
'baby-doll' nightie, with 'bunny slippers' and a pink bow in her hair.  She
shuffled slowly to the bed and stood before him, head downcast, but peeping
up at him through her eyelashes.  He took the hint.



   "You've been a very naughty girl today, haven't you, little missy?" he
announced.



   She nodded her head but said, "Oh, I know, Daddy, but please, do I
haveta be punished?!"



   "You certainly do, young lady!  You should have thought of that before
you misbehaved." With that he stood up next to her, bent her under his arm,
and gave her a brisk, business-like spanking as she yelped and whined. 
From there the 'scene' progressed until he had her naked, in knee-chest on
the bed, being spanked full upon her nether lips and anus as she rocked and
moaned, then came even as smack after smack fell upon her clitoris.  John
wasted no time in taking her from behind, coming almost immediately from
the intensity of the action.  As they collapsed together on the bed in
sweet embrace, neither of them noticed their bedroom door gently closing...



   "Mommy," Kristin asked Karla the next day, "When kin I get married?"
Karla was a little taken aback by the question, and she evaded a bit.



   "Why, honey, is there someone you want to marry?" she inquired, stalling
for time.



   Kristin mumbled something and turned red, twisting away a little bit. 
"What's that, Kristin, I couldn't hear you," her mother said, though she
thought she really had heard, and was both stunned and yet not so, and
surprised herself by being pleased with her daughter's reply.



   "Mr.  Carl!  I wanna marry Mr.  Carl, OK?" Kristin exclaimed, then ran
to her bedroom and threw herself on her bed, hiding her face in her pillow.



   Her mother followed her after a few minutes, and closed the door behind
her...



   Soon afterwards Kristin found herself again bound between the poles,
naked.  She looked around and noticed that she couldn't see her parents;
the light was too dim beyond the platform.  Carl knelt in front of her,
cupping her chin in his hand.  "Little one," he began, "There's something
important we need to talk about before we go any further.  I want you to
know something," he said, as she gently smoothed a stray bang of hair off
her forehead and caressed her cheek, "I'm in love with you." Her eyes were
shining and she smiled shyly.  "I want to have you with me always, to raise
as my daughter, and to be my little wife." Her eyes half closed dreamily.
"And I want you as my little girlslave," he added, as her eyes widened, and
she looked both anxiously and excitedly into his.



   "I've talked with your parents," he continued, "And they've given their
permission for me to have you.  In fact," and here he held up some papers,
"They've all ready signed parental rights over to me, and signed the
marriage license.  Legally, we're married now.  Little Missy, " he went on,
"Here's the deal.  I love you.  You are the most gorgeous sweet little girl
in the world.  I would love to spend the rest of my life with you.  But I'm
going to leave it up to you.  We're married, but we haven't consummated it
yet.  Do you know what that means?" She shook her head shyly.  "Do you know
what it means to 'make love', to 'have sex'?" he asked.  She nodded slowly.
"When a husband and wife first make love, that 'consummates' the marriage.
Until then they're not officially married.  That means we could stop right
now, I could send you home with your parents, and we would not be married.
Your parents could get it annulled, which means cancelled.



   "But if we do that, then I must tell you: it would be too hard on me to
have to see you and not be able to hold you, and punish you, and rape you.
I'd have to go away and never see you again.  But if you want, that's what
we'll do.



   "But if you're willing, then we'll go on with your punishment, and by
the end of it we'll be married completely, and we'll go home together and
be together always," he finished, then waited for her reply.



   "Mr.  Carl," she almost whispered.



   "Yes, Kristin," he answered.



   "If we're married, does that mean you get to...to put
your...your...thing inside me?" she managed to ask.



   "Yes, little one, that's what it means.  It will be part of your
punishment, the first time.  Other times might be...different." He waited.



   Finally, "I wanna marry you," she whispered, so softly he almost
couldn't hear.



   "What did you say, honey?" he asked.



   "I wanna marry you!" she said out loud.  He threw his arms around her
little nude body hanging in the bonds, kissing and kissing her.  From out
of the shadows she saw her parents approaching the platform.  Carl stood
away for a moment as they both leaned down to kiss their little girl.



   "I'm so happy for you," her mother said, and her father beamed. 
Somewhat startled, Kristin noticed for the first time how her mother was
dressed, or nearly not dressed!  Her hair was in a headband, with bangs,
like Kristin herself wore hers.  She wore a schoolgirl's blouse, the kind
that is so sheer it is always worn with a camisole, or at least a bra.  Her
mother had neither, and her nipples could be easily seen through the nearly
transparent fabric.  Her skirt was a plaid wrap-around, fastened with a
giant safety pin.  But it was short, so short that her panties...but
Kristin realized that her mother wasn't wearing any panties!  And her
mother's private parts were not only visible, but bare, as bare as her own
little unfledged cleft.  She gaped, open-mouthed, as her father led her
mother to a platform right next to the one she was bound on.  There, as the
light came up, she watched wide-eyed as her father unbuttoned her mother's
blouse and stripped her of it, revealing her firm, small, high breasts. 
Then he unpinned her skirt and let it fall.  Now her mother was naked,
slender, breasts heaving, trembling.  Kristin was stunned as she saw her
father bind her mother to the two poles on the other platform, even as she
herself was bound.  Then he stood beside her, waiting, a tawse dangling
from one hand...



   Her attention was suddenly drawn back to Carl, now her
Daddy-Master-Husband, who was bringing over some rope.  He passed a loop
around her and pulled it snugly against her chest, then another loop,
positioning them so that between them they caught her little breastbuds and
nipples, pinching them from top and bottom so that they protruded beyond
the height of the rope itself.  He pulled the rope a little tighter as she
gasped, then fastened it in a firm knot.  Another loop went around her
waist, then between her legs as he pulled it taut up against her cleft and
anus.  She cried out as he tightened her bonds, the rope pressing sternly
into her underdeveloped girlhood.



   Carl took up his accustomed instrument and swung the B-Stik sharply
against her naked buttocks, [SWAP!] "AAAH!" she cried out, more startled
than pained, and "OH-OH-OH!" again and again as he disciplined her bottom.
In a daze she dimly realized that smacks and cries were emanating from the
other platform as her pretty mother was also sternly punished.  Up and down
the backs and fronts of her thighs Carl plied the tool, bringing a fetching
blush to her tender skin.



   Then he turned his attention to her little breasts.  Pausing for a
moment in her whipping, he reached out and seized first one breastbud and
nipple, then the other, kneading and working them in their bonds, pinching
and twisting her nipples as she gasped and moaned, writhing and arching at
the embarrassing punishment.  After a period of this pleasant (for him) and
stimulating (for him and her!) pasttime, he stepped back and swung the
B-Stik directly onto her little breastbuds and nipples, [SWAK!] "AAAAAH!"
she nearly screamed as he repeatedly disciplined her the same way, until
her nipples were erect and fetchingly reddened.



   Carl paused for a moment to lubricate his free hand from a tube on a
nearby table, then returned to his little preteen girlslave-wife, and
firmly seized her bottom, pressing in between the cheeks and moving the
rope aside to find her little rosebud.  She cried out as he pierced her
with first one, then two, then finally three fingers, penetrating her
decisively, and probing her fiercely as she keened.  Even as he molested
her anus he brought the implement down directly onto her mons and unfledged
cleftlips, whipping and whipping her tender preteen girlhood as he
finger-raped her anus.  Cry after cry was torn from her lips as she was so
lasciviously punished.



   Soon it could be seen that her body was betraying her.  Her slim hips
bucked and rocked, alternately pressing her bottom against his hand that so
sternly invaded her tender, delicate anus, then proferring her cleftlips
and clitoris to the tool that stung so, seeming to send a vibration through
her, beginning with her little button, and spreading to encompass her whole
being.  Her cries became hoarser, more rhythmic, and finally she was
yelping out a preteen's orgasm as he punished her so sexually.



   She was so distracted, sobbing out the last of her climax, she almost
didn't notice him standing before her.  The platform was cut such that,
though the top of her head would normally barely reach his chest, she stood
on a level a bit above his.  She suddenly became aware that his rod was
protruding, rampant, from his pants, as he squirted a bit of lubricant on
it.  He pulled the rope away from her sex and shifted it off to one side.
Then he aimed his tool at her cleft, perfectly positioned for him to take
her by the difference in the platform height, grasped her hips with his
strong hands, and thrust firmly within her, raping her of her maidenhead
with one stroke, driving for her cervix as she screamed once, shortly but
intensely.  He stayed deeply buried within her, cradling her against him,
stroking her back, kissing her hair, as she wept, shoulders shaking.  Soon
her distress had died down to the occasional sob and sniffle.  He began to
piston in and out of her abused sex as she moaned with each thrust.  Carl
couldn't believe how pleasurable it was to rape his beloved and beautiful
little preteen.  She was so tight, and yet so soft and warm.  He nearly
came as he lost himself in the knowledge and experience of taking her
maidenhood, but fortunately he had relieved himself enough alone lately
that he was able to ravish her thoroughly, with long, hard, and fast
strokes as she cried out rhythmically, "OOOO-OOOO-OOOO!".  Even as she gave
voice to the loss of her virginity, the pain of it mixed with pleasure, so
that a fresh wave of orgasm left her arching and spasming as he ground his
pubic bone against her little clitoris.  Finally he deigned to empty
himself in her little girlhood as she sobbed and shook.  On the other
platform Karla also was giving voice as her 'master' took her, for the
first time using her anus, burying himself to the hilt in her bottomflower
as she yelped and shook, dancing on the end of his rod.



   In the afterglow they undid their slavegirls, big and little, and
cuddled them closely, kissing away their tears, the girls lost in the
sweetness of love and submission, their masters humbled and joyous at the
beautiful gift they had been given.



   And they lived happily ever after.



   The End






   
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