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Subject: {ASSM} CORRECTED REPOST Spring Break Day 2: Jenny's Couch Book II, part 33 (M+g, ped, prost, exhib, pierce, tort, drugs) by Rufus Fugit
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Date: Sat, 22 Sep 2012 20:10:01 -0400
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This story is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution -
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   Spring Break Day 2: Jenny's Couch Book II, part 33 (M+g, ped, prost,
exhib, pierce, tort, drugs) by Rufus Fugit

   Karen looked to be having the time of her life.  A broad grin split her
face, revealing even white teeth.  Her blue eyes were bright as they looked
out over her appreciative audience.  Her waist length hair was pulled back
in a simple ponytail and it swung back and forth, wrapping itself around
her and cascading across her smooth tan skin as she danced.  It made me
happy to see her so obviously enjoying herself, especially after the way
Moira had been treating her.  The evidence of that, the cigarette burns on
her pale asscheeks and another high on one breast plus fresh welts from a
riding crop, were hidden underneath careful makeup.

   The twelve-year-old tottered atop ridiculously high heels.  They were
clear acrylic with a 3-inch lift and probably another 3 or 4 inches in the
heel - fortunately not spiked as it was unlikely the inexperienced preteen
could have kept her balance, let alone danced.  Sheer white thigh-high
stockings emphasized the slenderness of her legs.  There was an elastic
garter around one coltish thigh holding a cluster of dollar bills.  She was
also wearing white opera gloves that came up past her elbows.  And that was
it.  The lace tops of her stockings beautifully framed her exposed vulva.
Her clitoris was a swollen, twisted pink knob at the top of her flowered
inner labia, shiny with moisture and crowned with a tuft of silky golden
pubes, that sparkled with glitter.  Her belly gleamed with perspiration and
her navel winked open and closed as she thrust her hips in time with the
pounding music.  She raised her arms, gloved fists closed, exposing smooth
armpits free of hair or stubble.  There was a sheen of sweat on her
forehead and her upper lip, glinting in the hot spotlights as she tossed
her head back and forth.  Her ponytail spread sensuously across her high,
perky breasts as they jiggled and bounced.  Her nipples were engorged and
looked rock-hard, the size and color of Rainier cherries.

   The music crashed to a halt.  Still grinning, the naked sixth-grader
bowed awkwardly to the cheering audience.  She clomped to the edge of the
rickety stage - it was really just 4-by-8 sheets of plywood laid over a
crude riser made of scrap lumber - and stepped off with a wobble, exposing
her pale skinny ass and the sweep of her smooth back.  She walked slowly
over to us, her ankles trembling with the stress of moving in those heels.
Her awkward gait kept her beautiful titties in constant motion.

   Karen almost fell when an equally-naked Lilah threw herself into her
idolized babysitter's arms.  They were both panting for breath as Lilah had
been dancing along in childish imitation of Karen's wanton display.  The
flip flops that dangled from the seven-year-old's pretty pink toes were all
she was wearing.  She giggled as Karen swayed to keep her balance.

   I was pleased with the child's dramatically improved spirits.  We'd had
the same problem as with Karen when we first turned her out.  Karen had
done a great job of grooming Lilah, introducing her to sex and training her
to accept that it was perfectly normal for grownups to want to use her body
in all sorts of lewd ways, but the afternoon's gangbang had pushed her too
far, too fast.  She'd been almost catatonic after I'd sluiced the vomit,
crusted semen, and other filth off her undeveloped body.  Fortunately the
same solution as we'd used on Karen, chemical enhancement, had worked. 
Moira had dosed her with another half-hit of E and then fed her some
medicinal-strength hash brownies she'd picked up at the dispensary in town,
and before long the blond child was laughing and babbling nonsensically and
masturbating her painfully swollen little peach.  She'd spent the short
ride to the bar alternately humping herself against the car seat and
performing distracted cunnilingus on Karen, nursing and nibbling at the
older girl's clitty until the interior of the truck was redolent with the
scent of her arousal.  Karen had used half a packet of wet-naps from the
glove box cleaning her pungent secretions from the child's grinning face.

   "Karen, you're so pretty," Lilah mumbled.  Karen shifted so the child
was riding her hip.  She cupped one tiny cheek with her palm, spreading her
fingers to press them into Lilah's puffy slit.  Lilah's body trembled at
the intimate contact until Karen dumped her back into the booth.  She sat
dazedly for a few seconds, then giggled at nothing and began running hands
up and down her skinny torso.

   "You sure are," I agreed with Lilah, "especially your babycunt.  How's
it feel?" Karen dropped her head and looked at me beneath lowered lashes, a
shy smile playing at her lips.  I loved the way I could address her in the
crudest possible terms, yet she was so conditioned to her life as a child
prostitute that she accepted it as praise.

   "It's hot..." she said softly.  A hint of blush colored her cheeks as
she added, "and it feels really juicy inside."

   "Not just inside," I replied, reaching out and swiping a finger through
the thick cream that was smeared over her labia and inner thighs.  She
stiffened slightly but made no move to pull back.  Again, the conditioning
from months of sexual abuse and a year-plus of selling her body to
strangers had left her unable to defend her privacy or personal space,
believing she had no right to either.  I lifted my finger to my nose,
sniffed ostentatiously, then sucked it clean.  "Mmm, such a tasty whore."
Karen's blush deepened.  "Moira really had a good idea, didn't she?"

   Karen's face tightened with anxiety at the mention of my erstwhile
lover. "Where is she?" she asked, glancing around and hunching her
shoulders unconsciously.  The bar was getting crowded, about evenly divided
between guys from the camp and rough looking men from the motorcycle
clubhouse on the other side of the parking lot.  The bartender appeared to
be one of their own, long-haired with a lazy eye and not much larger than
Kilimanjaro.  I was a bit surprised; all the outlaw bikers I knew were
strong family men and very protective of children.  But we'd walked across
the parking lot in the gathering dusk with the two naked kids, Lilah
embarrassed but too high to think to cover up and Karen forcing the
appearance of confidence, striding slowly with her shoulders back, the fake
rictus of a smile she used for clients pasted on her face.  Moira had
greeted the enormous bartender familiarly and passed a few quiet sentences;
after that no one had paid Lilah any mind.  Moira had handed Karen off to a
somewhat raddled-looking twentysomething redhead who'd taken her back to
the dank cubby that served as the dancers' dressing room.  Her eyes had
been wide with interest as she took in the naked women dancing on the crude
stage - and before long she had joined them.

   "I don't know," I answered to Karen's visible relief.  "She left while
you were dancing."

   Karen squeezed her thighs together.  Her gloved fingers fluttered at her
sides.  "I wish..." she said, miming touching herself but only brushing
across her pubic tuft.

   "Unh-uh-uh," I admonished.  "You know Moira'll be mad if you get those
gloves all stained." She snatched her hand away as if her cunny was
red-hot, which it probably felt like it was.  "But you know what you could
do..." The color rose in the preteen's cheeks as I made my suggestion, but
as always the burning need between her legs overwhelmed whatever modesty
she had left.  She picked up my Jack-and-coke and took a quick fortifying
swallow, grimacing at the taste, and then wobbled off through the smoky
air. She stopped at a table of three bikers all wearing greasy jeans and
their cuts over bare chests.  They leered up at her.

   Karen visibly gathered her courage, putting her shoulders back to
display her goosebumped titties.  I could just make out her voice over the
music.  "Hi!" she said brightly.  "I'm Karen.  Would you like to flavor
your drinks with, with my whore babycunt?" One of the men slipped a bill
beneath her garter.  Karen shifted to a wider stance, putting one hand on
the man's shoulder for balance.  Her other hand grasped his muscular wrist,
guiding it to her creamy bare snatch.  "Ahhhhh..." she sighed, throwing
back her head as one thick, blunt finger slipped between her blood-flushed
labia.  Her girlish features went slack with pleasure as it slid in,
penetrating her deeply.  After a second the man withdrew.  He grinned at
the juvenile cunt cream coating his digit, then solemnly put it in his beer
and stirred.  Karen blushed deeply as he raised the glass and drank,
ostentatiously smacking his lips to the laughter of her partners.

   Karen shuffled over to the next man at the table.  Again money changed
hands.  Again the twelve-year-old spread her knees slightly, offering her
juvenile cunt.  The man slid his finger up and down between her sopping
labia and her whole body twitched as he flicked her aching clitoris,
pushing it to one side and watching as it snapped back to the other.  She
sighed in pleasure as she was penetrated yet again.  But then her eyes flew
open in surprise and an audible moan escaped her lips.  From the way her
pelvis canted forward I guessed the man had curled his finger and was
searching for the child's G spot.

   Karen moaned again, this time in frustration, as the finger withdrew and
was stirred into another beer.  But the third at the table beckoned and so
she eagerly turned to face him.  Another bill was added to the collection
under her garter.  The man held out his hand palm up with his index and
middle fingers extended.  Smiling, Karen took his thick wrist in both hands
and guided it to her crotch.  Unexpectedly the man's biceps bunched as he
shoved two fingers into her with savage strength.  Karen stiffened and
yelped.  She would've risen on tiptoes but she was already as high as she
could go in those absurd shoes.  She windmilled her arms for balance,
yelping in pain or pleasure or both as the man stabbed her cunt brutally
once, twice, three times.  He was rewarded with a fresh surge of hot cream
and more oozed from Karen's distended hole as he yanked his fingers out
just as swiftly.  Karen stumbled and almost fell.  She caught herself on
the edge of the table with both hands and held on, panting and trembling at
the brink of an orgasm, a thick dollop of her secretions depending from one
reddened lip.  It was then she was called back to the stage.

   I saw her stifle a sob of frustration.  The sixth-grader slowly
straightened, smoothed her hair, ran her gloved hands over her sweaty
stomach and chest - pausing to lightly pinch her cherry-sized nipples -
then tottered back to the stage on trembling legs.  The music started and
she pressed her crotch against the pole, frotting herself against the cool
metal.  The chrome finish quickly became dulled with smears of her baby
honey.

   I was distracted at that moment by Renee's return to our table, carrying
a fresh Coke.  She was wearing the jersey tie-dye dress she'd gotten at the
beach last Christmas.  It was now closer to thigh- than knee- length on her
but it still fitted well enough.  As she crossed in front of the stage
lights her white panties were clearly visible through the thin material, as
was the rounded shaft her undergarment held pressed against her belly.

   The ten-year-old plopped down next to me, wrinkling her nose and waving
her hand in front of her face to dispel the eddies of tobacco smoke. 
"Pee-you!" she exclaimed.  "I'm never going to smoke when I grow up.  And
the bathroom was guh-ross!  I didn't want to put my behind on the seat so I
stood on it and kind of squatted, but then I peed on my feet a little bit
so I rinsed my sandals in the sink, see?" She held up one foot for
inspection, incidentally giving me a flash of white panties bulging with
the molded scrotum of her strapon.  "And you know what else?  When I walked
past the stage I could smell Karen's cunt!"

   I smiled at the flood of chatter from my preteen lover.  This was her
first time in a bar and everything was new and exciting, except of course
for her big sister's sexual insatiability.  I patted my lap.  "Why, do you
have a boner?" Renee giggled.  "I bet you do."

   "'Course I do, you're here."

   "Nuh-uh," she shot back.  Her brown braids flapped as she shook her
head. "It's cause Lilah's naked, and Karen's whoring, and all those other
ladies are naked too."

   "Okay, but you're the only one I want to do sex with."

   "Because we're lovers," she said in a tone somewhere between question
and statement.  I nodded.  "But if I wasn't here..."

   "If you weren't here I might pay your sister to fuck me, or get Lilah to
suck my dick," The naked seven-year-old looked up at the mention of her
name, then went back to giggling to herself and poking at her bare cunny.
"Just like if your cunt gets tingly and I'm not there..." I trailed off.

   "...I play with the big boys from the high school," Renee finished, then
clapped her hands over her mouth.  Busted!

   Now I pulled her into my lap.  My erection nestled into her butt crack
and the warmth and weight of the ten-year-old was deliciously arousing.  I
couldn't help but press forward a bit and flex the shaft, and Renee
wriggled automatically back against the pressure.  I put my arms around
her, cupping a warm breastlet in one hand and gripping her strapon through
her dress with the other.  Her hair smelled of her sweat and faintly of
cigarette smoke.  I learned forward and kissed her ear.  "It's okay, baby,"
I said.  "Do you remember what I told you, way back the first time I put my
cock up your ass?" The illicit thrill of speaking like that to a
prepubescent child made me shiver.

   Renee twisted around to look at me.  Her hazel eyes were enormous and
dark in the bar's uncertain light.  "I told you I didn't mind if you put
other boys' cocks in your mouth, and I meant it.  Our bodies are made for
sex, and sex is how we have fun with people we like.  As long as everyone
has fun, and no one tells, it's up to you whose cock you suck on."

   "That's why I only do it with big kids," Renee said matter-of-factly. 
"I say, if you tell I'll cry and say you made me and everyone will believe
me and you'll get in trouble." She blew right past the whole idea of an
adult encouraging a ten-year-old to be promiscuous, so thorough was her
indoctrination that sex between children and adults was perfectly normal.

   "Clever girl," I praised her.  I raised my hand from the erecting nipple
of her boobie to caress her cheek.  I gently turned her head so that I
could plant a soft kiss on her lips, licking gently until they parted.  I
ran my tongue across her front teeth, tasting Coke and a hint of the tacos
we'd had for dinner.  "In fact," I breathed, "I wish I could watch you suck
another boy's cock.  Thinking about it gives me a boner."

   "Everything gives you a boner," she shot back, and we laughed together
for a moment.  "Hey, look at Lilah!" she pointed.  I followed her finger.
Lilah had left her flipflops on the booth seat and had wandered over to the
front of the stage.  She was standing between a biker and the black man
from the camp, the one with the damaged arm, sitting at adjacent tables. 
Even sitting down they loomed over the pale, naked seven-year-old.  She was
staring up, not at Karen but at another woman sharing the stage with her. I
stared a little bit myself.  The girl was tall, almost six and a half feet
in her heels.  She sported a crimson mohawk and tribal tattoos on both
sides of her shaven skull.  What had caught Lilah's eye, though, were
literally dozens of piercings.  Nose, lips, chin, ears, a line of studs
along each cheekbone.  Another double line of studs marched down her
breastbone, A fine silver chain joined the hoop in her nose with one of
many in her left ear.  Another dangled between the large hoops piercing
each of the nipples on her ample breasts.  Her bush was dyed to match her
mohawk and at least one jewel glittered behind it.  Her dancing was
athletic and aggressive and she snarled out at the audience.

   Lilah was mesmerized.  Her blue eyes were wide and a little glassy
behind her spectacles.  She was sucking her thumb, with her index finger
resting on her upturned nose.  Her other hand was gently stroking her bald
little cunny, tracing the bumps of the rash that had spread across her
swollen vulva.  She was so absorbed she didn't react to the scarred,
withered claw caressing her back and buttocks.  She just stood there
entranced, shifting from foot to foot and masturbating absently.

   I was somewhat entranced myself.  Karen dancing naked for a bar full of
men was maybe the sexiest thing I'd ever seen.  She was gawky from her
recent growth spurt and uncertain on her platform high heels, but her
natural grace asserted itself even as her body shivered and twitched on the
edge of an orgasm.  And her smile was genuine, not the phony grimace she
often wore while working.  Normally being the focus of so many lustful eyes
scared her, fear she covered with false bravado and sexual aggressiveness.
That was charming in its own way but to see her genuinely happy in her role
as a sexual object was transformative.  She ran her gloved hands up and
down over her sweaty torso, pausing to tweak and tug on her erect nipples.
I groaned softly, bouncing Renee's warm body in my lap, stroking her erect
nips and the shaft of her prosthesis through the thin jersey of her dress.

   My reverie was broken when three things happened more or less
simultaneously.  The song ended.  Lilah jumped right out of her flipflops
and leaped onto the stage.  In the relative silence the little girl's bare
soles slapped hollowly on the flimsy stage, and the launched herself not at
Karen, but at the heavily-pierced and tattooed dancer she'd been admiring.
Startled, the dancer stepped back but Lilah wrapped herself around the
woman's legs like a pale naked little monkey, and buried her face in her
dyed bush.

   I was startled by the thump of Moira's purse on the table, and then she
plopped herself down in the booth next to Renee and me.  She was still
dressed in her leather skirt, boots, and bustier.  She tossed her cap on
the table carelessly, ran a hand through her brown curls, and belched
loudly.  She tried to put her feet up on the other seat but missed badly. I
realized that she was pretty drunk.  Wherever she had gone off to when we
arrived there must've been a bottle of bourbon there.

   Another song started, this one slow and sensuous with a heavy beat. 
Karen, now alone on stage, grabbed the pole in both hands, spread her legs
wide and bent from the waist, presenting her pale skinny ass and her
weeping clam to the audience.  A glob of her sex honey oozed from between
her pink, swollen lips as she gyrated slowly.  It formed a heavy drop that
stretched longer, longer, until it depended nearly six inches before the
thread snapped and it plopped to the stage between her high heels.  Men
around the stage erupted in cheers and clapping.  Karen looked back and
favored them with a radiant smile.

   Lilah came back to the table, pulling the bemused dancer by the hand and
prattling a mile a minute.  "Your cunt is really really pretty.  How did
you get a ring on it like that?  Can I have one?  Are you a whore?  I'm a
whore, see, you can tell by my whore babycunt.  It itches, but scratching
it makes me whory.  Do you get whory from dancing?"

   The dancer ignored her and spoke to me directly.  "Take your kid,
willya? I gotta work the room."

   I slid three twenties out of my wallet and put them on the table.  "Sit
down for just a minute, if you don't mind." She looked at me, at Moira's
unfocused eyes, at my hand gripping Renee's protruding strapon through her
dress.  She shrugged, picked up the money, and sat down.  Instantly Lilah
was on her, clambering into her lap and babbling away.  She shushed the
naked child by the simple expedient of putting her hand over her mouth. 
Lilah struggled for only a second before she was distracted by the woman's
nipple rings and started flipping and tugging them, giggling goofily all
the while.

   "So, uh, how is all this possible?" my gesture took in Lilah in her lap
and Karen on the stage.  I repeated my observation of bikers generally
being big on family.

   "Well, sure, you won't see any of their own kids in here, but they
mostly run this club to keep the baby-rapers in line.  No offense."

   "None taken.  But why do that?"

   She looked at me like I was especially slow.  "They run this county. 
How long you think that camp would last without protection?  The perverts
pay for the privilege of not being burned out by all our fine upstanding
citizens.  Like the county commissioner over there," she snorted,
indicating a fat bald man dressed in saggy Sansabelt slacks and a white
dress shirt with heavy stains at the underarms.  He was craning his neck
forward at the edge of the stage, trying to stretch his tongue far enough
to reach Karen's slowly gyrating backside.

   "Pay how?  None of them look like they have a pot to piss in."

   "Different ways.  They cook meth.  They mule Oxy and stuff. 
Occasionally they take care of a problem.  Works out good, if someone gets
caught, well, just another child molester back to prison.  No connection to
the club."

   "So why bother with this place?  You got 'em by the balls anyway."

   She shrugged, making her nipple rings bounce and sending Lilah into
another paroxysm of laughter.  She absently dandled the child on one
tattooed knee as she answered.  "It helps keep 'em in line I guess.  And
maybe some of the members like it.  Whyn't you ask one of them?  I just
work here."

   A thought struck me.  "Where do the kids come from, if they don't use
their own?"

   She smiled nastily.  "Sometimes a citizen will get crosswise with the
club.  And if they have a cute kid, maybe they'll be given a chance to work
it out without things getting ugly."

   "Sounds like the kind of thing could blow up in your face.  You can only
scare people so much."

   "Naw, they're careful.  None of the kids get hurt.  Scared, maybe, and
freaked out, but it's too hard these days to cover it up if little Susie's
bleeding from her asshole or something.  Ow!  Not so hard, you." Lilah had
yanked on one of her nipple rings hard enough to hurt.

   Moira sat bolt upright in her chair, like a robot that had suddenly been
switched on.  "You like those?" she demanded of Lilah.  Startled, the
stoned little girl nodded shyly.  Moira's lip quirked upward in something
between a smile and a sneer.  "Well, I'm going to get you some of your own
to play with.  You'd like that, wouldn't you, ya little whore?" Lilah
looked bewildered but she nodded again.  "C'mon then." Moira took Lilah's
hand and pulled her off the dancer's lap.  Everything would've been fine
except she tossed one more comment over her shoulder.  "And when we're
done, maybe we'll get Karen some of her own, too."

   Renee was off my lap in a shot, charging at Moira's retreating back. 
"You leave my sister alone!" she screeched.  What happened next confused
me. Moira was almost stumbling drunk and she whirled around swinging a wild
roundhouse blow.  Renee should've been able to dodge easily - I'd seen her
slip punches from teenaged black belts - but instead it looked like she
almost deliberately ran into it.  And instead of rolling to her feet as I'd
seen her do countless times at the dojo, she huddled on the floor, sobbing.
But maybe the crying sounded a bit forced and - did one hazel eye peek
between her fingers and wink at me?  I couldn't be sure and Moira was
already disappearing down the back hall with Lilah.  "Stay here," I tossed
over my shoulder as I hurried after them.

   Moira walked past the toilets and the dressing room - I got a quick
glimpse of two more dancers, naked, cooking up a shot of something over a
Sterno can - and took a quick turn through a black curtain I hadn't even
noticed in the dim, black painted hall.  She opened a door at the back of a
shallow alcove and pushed Lilah in front of her.  I followed and stopped,
blinking, in harsh fluorescent light.  We were in a small room with dark
red carpeting on floor, walls, and ceiling.  The room was trapezoidal in
shape, like a piece of pie with the point cut off.  The door was in the
short wall.  The long wall in front of us was three large windows from knee
height to the low ceiling.  They were covered with what looked like
oversized Venetian blinds on the other side of the glass.  An ancient air
conditioner chugged away high in one of the side walls.  It blew a blast of
cold air onto Lilah.  Her bare skin prickled with goose flesh and she
shivered, shuffling her feet on the worn carpeting.

   There was a cabinet along on the other wall, under a flickering bank of
lights.  In the center of the room was a stainless steel table exam table.
And sitting next to it was the biggest man I'd ever seen.  He could've been
the bartender's brother, but if the guy out front was Kilimanjaro, this
fellow was the entire Himalayan range.  He must've been sitting on
something but it was completely hidden by his bulk.  He smiled down at
Lilah, revealing black and broken teeth.  Lilah looked back with a nervous
half-smile on her face.  Her blue eyes were vague behind her glasses, like
she wasn't quite sure what was going on.

   I wasn't quite sure either, but it became clearer when Moira hoisted the
seven-year-old up onto the table while the giant reached into a drawer
without looking and lifted out a tray bearing needles, alcohol wipes, and a
variety of jewelry.  Lilah looked on uncomprehendingly.  She hunched her
shoulders against the chill air.  Her shoulder blades and the knobs of her
spine were prominent and vulnerable.  She stuffed her hands down between
her skinny thighs.  Her tiny pink nipples were puckered and stood out like
tiny beads.

   "Nips and bellybutton for sure," Moira said to the man-mountain, "And
then we'll see."

   "Holy shit, are you nuts?" I demanded.  "We're heading home tomorrow. 
You think her dad will be, like, oh, I see you poked a bunch of holes in my
kid, that's cool?"

   "Oh, shut it," Moira snapped.  Her brown ringlets shook as she tried to
focus on me.  "It's just for tonight," she said, slurring her t's more than
a little.  "Pull 'em out before she goes to bed, no one'll ever notice."

   Lilah was cooing at her reflection in the window glass, absently
pinching her tiny nipples, when with a rattle the shutters flew up.  For a
brief instant, before the lights on the other side of the glass went out,
she found herself looking at a crowd of men, pushing their faces against
the glass like kids at the zoo.  Lilah squawked in surprise, lost her
balance and sat down hard, making the steel table bong.

   The room's odd construction suddenly made sense to me; I realized this
used to be a peep show and for the first time ever I was on the other side.
There was no time to digest that realization, though.  Moira pressed
Lilah's bony shoulders against the cold metal, holding her down.  She
whimpered and struggled futilely as the giant wheeled forward to the side
of the table.  In one hand he had a betadine wipe; in the other a needle.
He bent briefly over the tiny girl's pale bare body, blocking my view. 
Lilah shrieked and began to cry.  The man pushed away from the table.  A
jewel gleamed from the seven-year-old's newly-pierced navel.  I must have
made a sound because Moira looked up from where she was holding the child
down with a glint of mischief in her eyes.  I realized I was clutching
myself.  My penis, which had gone soft in the confusion after Moira knocked
Renee down, surged back to full stiffness and throbbed against the
constriction of my jeans.

   Lilah raised her head and gazed in horrified fascination at the large
red jewel in her bellybutton.  It flashed and glittered as her belly heaved
in time with her sobs.  She tentatively pushed at it with a finger, moaning
as the post pulled at the tender flesh.  She looked from face to face and
whatever she saw in the three of us it wasn't the love and protectiveness
she had been raised to expect from adults.  She shivered, naked on the cold
steel table, and whimpered as tears ran from underneath her glasses.

   "Jesus, shut up!" Moira snapped, leaning down and laying a hard slap on
the seven-year-old's swollen cunny.  That had the opposite effect - as
anyone could've predicted - as Lilah thrashed and screamed.  "Hold her!"
Moira instructed.  A huge hand descended on Lilah's breastbone, the fingers
easily spanning the entire width of her flat chest, and effortlessly pinned
her to the table.  Moira turned and rummaged briefly in a cabinet.

   "Leave me 'lone!  I want Karen!  I want my Daddy!  I want my Mommy! 
Mommyyy!  Mommyyarglgllgh!" Lilah's screams for her dead mother became
inarticulate as Moira strapped something onto her face.  Then she wobbled
back, grinning evilly.  A bright red ring gag stretched the child's jaws
wide, pulling her face into a comical rictus of horror.  Her oversize front
teeth bit into the rubber ring, and the buckled strap dug into her cheeks
and the back of her neck.  She struggled harder until Moira turned loose of
her bony shoulders, instead grabbing a fistful of fine blonde hair.

   "Take it," she commanded me.  "I'm kinda dizzy..." Her voice trailed off
and as soon as I moved towards her she turned and stumbled out of the room.
I was beyond caring about consequences now.  Seeing the child restrained
and pierced was more than I could bear.  I was flashing back to poor Karen
that fateful Hallowe'en, her face distorted in agony as Nate pushed thin
wires through her Cupid's bow to add whiskers to her bodypainted leopard
costume.  The memory of blood pounding in my ears and my cock straining for
release merged with the present moment into some kind of dream, almost a
fugue state.  I felt like I was leaving my body.  It wasn't until I felt
heat and moisture squeezing my glans, and Lilah's screams choked into
silence, that I came back to myself.

   I looked down.  I had dragged Lilah backwards on the table by her
armpits until her head fell over the raised lip of stainless steel, and my
penis was shoved into the ring gag and embedded in the second-grader's
spasming throat.  My balls draped across her pert little nose.  Tears
streamed from her eyes up over her forehead.  Her skinny legs began to kick
as she struggled for breath.  I closed my hands around her jaw, fingers
tangling in her hair and my thumbs feeling the bulge made by my tool rammed
down her throat.  Her thrashing became more and more panicked, her face
cycling through red towards purple until finally I pulled back just enough
to clear her glottis.  Snot and saliva spilled from her mouth and her chest
expanded as she drew a massive breath but before she could scream I shoved,
embedding myself to the root.  I closed my eyes and threw my head back,
concentrating on the sensations bombarding my nerve endings - the
convulsions of Lilah's glottis, her tongue lashing across my shaft, hot
drool bathing it and dripping into my pubes, the vibrations of the screams
my bell-end prevented from leaving her throat.

   I opened my eyes to watch her struggles - it wouldn't do to let the
child run completely out of air - in time to see the big man turn from his
assortment of tools.  In one hand he held a pair of pliers with broad,
flat, padded jaws.  In the other, another betadine wipe and a large,
gleaming needle.  Quick as a snake, belying his enormous size, he clamped
the pliers around Lilah's left nipple, squeezing the pale, dime-sized
areola and pulling it away from Lilah's flat chest.  She struggled but his
grip was implacable.  He gave the trapped skin a quick swab and then,
almost too swiftly to see, the needle flashed out and slid smoothly into
the yellow-stained flesh just below the tiny bud of her nipple.  Lilah went
rigid.  Her arms and heels beat against the table.  She tried to thrash her
head but it was pinioned by the adult penis stuck down her throat.  I let
her draw breath at the same time as her other nipple was seized and then
shoved myself home as it was likewise pierced.  I looked down.  Twin silver
rings gleamed in the harsh fluorescent light.

   I rocked my hips backwards, extricating my penis from the child's throat
with an audible pop.  She coughed and gagged, skinny limbs twitching, and
dragged in a huge breath preparatory to a scream.  But I grabbed her under
her armpits and hoisted her to her feet on the table and commanded, "Look!
Look, Lilah!"

   Lilah staggered, dizzied by the sudden change in position, and in the
second it took to regain her balance she caught sight of herself in the
windows.  With the lights off on the other side of the glass it was a
near-perfect mirror.  Her eyes went wide behind her glasses and her mouth
would have dropped open if it wasn't held open by the ring gag strapped
around the back of her head.  "Ahhhh..." she gurgled as drool spilled down
her chin.  Her reflection showed a tiny seven-year-old with pierced nipples
and navel.  Mesmerized, her pain forgotten, the drugged little girl turned
to one side then the other.  Wonderingly, she raised one hand to her bare
chest.  She traced a ring with one finger, tentatively grasped it and
tugged.  She winced and whimpered as the fresh piercing pulled her nipple
away from her body.  But then after a second or two she did it again.  And
then again, as horror turned to fascination.

   "Isn't that great?  You look just like the big girl," I enthused,
referring to the multiply-pierced dancer she had admired.  We let her preen
for a few moments as she unknowingly gave a show to however many people had
crowded into the room on the other side of the glass.  My balls were
churning; I had been close to climax as Lilah had screamed silently around
my erection.  I imagined stuffing her full again and shooting yet another
load down her throat but I held back, forestalled by the thought of Renee
and the beautiful grip of her newly-deflowered ten-year-old cunt.  Gulping,
I carefully zipped my jeans and buttoned them.

   "Iargh warragh aw whargh," Lilah tried to speak.  Her hands groped at
the buckle behind her neck, but she never would've been able to undo it
herself.  I helped her, levering her jaw wide to pop the ring gag free.  "I
really look like a whore now, don't I?" she repeated.  And smiled.  I
beamed down at her, sitting cross-legged on the table with one heel mashed
against her cunny.

   I turned to the other man.  "Septum, I think." All worries about Lilah's
appearance after we returned home had been swallowed by my arousal. 
"Septum, and then I have one more idea..."

   Lilah's screams were, you should excuse the expression, piercing.
   To be continued...

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