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From: Rufus Fugit <rufusfugit@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Jenny's Couch Book IV: A House In Gross Disorder, part 6 (Mg, Fgg, ped, cons, oral, s/m, d/s, whip, drugs) by Rufus Fugit
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Date: Tue, 28 Mar 2017 06:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Jenny's Couch 4-06.txt" begin>

This story is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution
Noncommercial 3.0 Unported license.  You may copy, distribute, or transmit
this work so long as authorship is properly credited and these introductory
paragraphs are included, and you adhere to the terms set forth at
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/.

   Please send feedback to rufusfugit at yahoo dot com.  I write for
enjoyment; my only payment is knowing that my writing has brought pleasure
to others, so let me know what you think.

   This and other stories available at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rufusfugit and
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/rufusfugit.htm.  New stories are posted
on Mr.  Double first.  Membership has its privileges.

   I'd like to extend my thanks to the small group of deeply disturbed
individuals who make up my fan base.  :-) Also, please support asstr-mirror.org:
bandwidth doesn't grow on trees.

   (For the original A House In Gross Disorder, see
https://muse.jhu.edu/article/44333)

   Jenny's Couch Book IV: A House In Gross Disorder, part 6 (Mg, Fgg, ped,
cons, oral, s/m, d/s, whip, drugs) by Rufus Fugit

   The picture was shocking.

   It was a girl, you'd guess nine or ten years old from the height of her
forehead and the crowding of her permanent teeth in her mouth.  Round face.
Brown hair, thick and wavy, worn in two heavy braids.  There was a flush on
her cheeks.  Her eyes were wide, with long dark lashes.  You couldn't tell
her eye color because the quality of the picture wasn't great, obviously
taken hastily from a phone.  It was a bit blurred and the colors were
heavily orange-shifted, as if a flash should have been used but hadn't.

   The girl was wearing a yellow tshirt under denim overalls.  From the
angle of the photo you might guess she was kneeling on the ground.  You
might also guess that because in her right hand, away from the camera, her
fingers were wrapped around a penis.  It was erect, and about level with
her head so unless she was very short or the penis belonged to a pro
basketballer, yep, she was kneeling.  The girl was white and the dick was
much darker, so maybe a black guy's?  You couldn't say for sure.  It looked
very large in her child-sized hand but, again, you couldn't be sure if it
was an adult's or a teen's.  There was no pubic hair visible but the penis
was sticking out through an open fly of buttoned jeans so a mature bush
might've been confined inside.

   The girl's other hand was cropped out of the picture but, from the angle
of just a bit of her left forearm in the bottom corner, you might guess
that she was holding another penis.  And her eyes were cast upwards, not
looking at the person to her right.  If she were holding a dick in each
hand, you could guess she was looking up into the face of the owner of the
one not visible.

   The background was nondescript.  Given the camera angle all you could
see was grass with a smattering of dead leaves.  There was a blur in one
corner that might have been the edge of a picnic bench.  You couldn't tell
the season, or the weather, or the time of day, or anything else about the
location except that it was outside.

   The girl's mouth was slightly open, full lips curved in a slight smile.
She didn't seem to be distressed or upset.  There was a large, shiny,
pearly white smear from her lower lip downward.  A big blob was starting to
drip from her chin.  There appeared to be more white inside her mouth,
pooled behind her even teeth, though the picture quality made it hard to
tell for sure.

   The picture was shocking.  A prepubescent child kneeling on the ground,
probably holding an adult penis in each hand, smiling around what appeared
to be a mouthful of cum with more running down her chin.

   It was Renee, of course, ten-year-old daughter of my shirttail relatives
Jenny and Rob, and my lover for the last year.  So what shocked me was not
the subject matter of the picture, but its very existence.  Renee was
supposed to be smarter than that.  Kids change fast, but this picture
looked pretty recent and if it was already popping up on some of the
darknet forums, it could mean trouble.

   But there was nothing I could do about it now.  Renee was off with her
class on a school trip to the state capitol, some kind of Model U.N.  or
something, I wasn't completely clear, but some kind of government LARPing
for schoolchildren.  Anyways, she wouldn't be around this weekend so I just
had to hope that the pic wasn't being passed around locally as well as
posted on the internet.  I shut down my computer and took it in the truck
with me.

   There were no parking spaces on Rubin Dauberstein's street.  I had to
cruise around quite a bit before finally finding a space on the other side
of the park, a good 3 blocks away.  I tried not to worry as I cut through
the park, distracting myself by looking for the exact space where Renee had
first fellated her friend Raj and then had him return the favor on her
strap-on.

   Karen had called me from the Daubersteins'.  She hadn't sounded upset.
She'd mostly sounded exhausted which made perfect sense, given that as on
most Saturdays the twelve-year-old had spent the last five or six hours
prostituting herself, getting fucked nearly senseless by a steady stream of
her mostly adult mostly regulars.

   Karen didn't do it for the money.  Her bank account (that I managed for
her) was already well into mid-five-figures.  She couldn't spend it except
for occasional hooker outfits that had to stay at my house, and at age
twelve she didn't have that good a grasp of the value of money anyway.  She
fucked because she loved it and because she needed it.  She could get
through the week without sex, just barely, though by Thursday or Friday she
was spending most of the afternoon in her room, ostensibly doing homework
but actually masturbating herself raw, climaxing over and over in a
desperate quest for satisfaction that she could no longer give herself.

   By Saturday the heat would have spread from her barely-pubescent cunt to
her whole body.  She'd leave the house as early as she decently could and
arrive at the door of my hotel room flushed and panting on trembling legs.
Some days she couldn't even take the time to dress properly in the crop
top, micro-mini, and heeled sandals she favored.  Once she hadn't done any
more than yank down her shorts and panties and kick them off with her
flipflops, and without even doing her makeup left for the park barefoot,
wearing only a long tshirt that still only barely covered her tight little
ass.  She'd come back that afternoon limping, and not only from the sliver
of glass she'd gotten in her heel.

   That memory brought a smile to my face as I used my key to let myself
into Rubin's house.  I stepped into the foyer cautiously.  You never knew
what you were going to find these days.

   The first thing I saw was Karen.  The sixth-grader was sitting on the
couch.  She was heavily made-up with bright red lipstick, heavy rouge to
emphasize her cheekbones and jawline, and dark metallic mascara and
eyeliner.  Everything was smudged and smeared.  The disarray gave her a
slightly clownish appearance.  When in better order it paradoxically made
her look even younger than her twelve years, like a child playing dress-up.
She knew her clientele.

   Karen was wearing a neon pink crop top.  It had just a string tie behind
and a brighter pink plastic choker around her neck so that her back and
shoulders as well as her midriff were all bare.  Karen's breasts were
small, too small for her to have any cleavage yet, but they were perfectly
formed.  The top was nearly skin-tight, outlining the beautiful little
hemispheres topped with large, swollen nipples.

   Karen's sandals were on the floor in front of her and there was a
tangled scrap of fabric that I assumed was her miniskirt on the couch next
to her, so except for that top she was naked.  Her legs were open, heels
resting on the floor under the coffee table.  She was sitting on a bath
towel in the center of a good-sized dark, slimy stain.  Her cunt itself was
hidden behind an icepack that she held pressed between her skinny thighs
with one hand.

   Moira was sitting next to Karen on the couch.  Her light brown curls
were tied back with a colorful silk scarf.  She was wearing a simple
vintage sleeveless dress in a paisley pattern, greens and umbers
predominating.  It was buttoned up to her neck.  The skirt came to below
her knees.  Her feet were bare, tucked under her on the couch.  She wore no
visible makeup.

   Rubin was snoring in a recliner in the corner.  There was a bottle of
gin and an empty glass on the table at his elbow.  His black fedora was
askew on the cushion, mostly off his head.  His pants were around his
ankles.

   And standing opposite Moira in the middle of the room was Lilah, Rubin's
seven-year-old daughter.  Her pale, fine mop of hair was uncombed.  She
wasn't wearing her eyeglasses just now and her blue eyes were a little
glassy.  I assumed she'd been fed her normal Saturday dose of cannabis and
Ecstacy.  Moira had discovered early on the combination of street drugs
that would keep the little girl acquiescent and even eager for sex acts
that, unmedicated, she would find distasteful and even painful.

   Like Karen, Lilah was bottomless, wearing nothing but a faded Strawberry
Shortcake tshirt with ruffled sleeves and collar.  Also like Karen, she had
obviously been fucking.  Her tiny vulva was puffy, bright red and prominent
between her sticklike thighs.  Between those swollen labia her vaginal
opening gaped.  There were dried tracks of semen down the insides of her
legs and she'd been standing in place long enough to collect a few drops of
grayish cum between her feet.  Lilah's arms were crossed in front of her
narrow chest.  Her face was screwed up in a frown.  "You can't make me!"
she declared as I walked in, stomping her foot and dislodging another
little glob of cum from her weeping, irritated clam.  It plopped onto the
arch of her other foot.

   "What's going on?" I asked the room in general.

   "She promithed!" Lilah turned to me, all outraged and betrayed dignity.
She pointed at Moira.  "She promithed we could go to McDonalds and the park
afterwards." Lilah's lisp seemed to come and go, often depending on how
high she was.

   Moira rolled her eyes.  "I promised," she mimicked Lilah's whiny tone,
"that we would go IF you got an A on your spelling test, and IF you cleaned
your room, and AFTER you had your bath.  Did you get an A on your spelling
test this week?" Lilah's frown got deeper.  "No, you didn't," Moira
answered for her.  "And is your room clean?  No, it isn't.  And have you
taken a bath?  No," she finished, "You haven't." Moira got off the couch
and crouched down so she was eye-to-eye with the child.  She softened her
tone.  "I'm sorry, sweetie, you dawdled and now it's too late to go out. 
Maybe next week you'll make better choices.  But now you still have to pick
up your room and have a bath.  Come on, I'll help."

   "No!" Lilah dropped her little pointed chin and shook her head
resolutely.  She was such the picture of childish defiance I almost burst
out laughing.  But I suppressed my smile as I stepped forward.  The girls'
heads all turned towards me.

   "What's going on here?" I asked rhetorically.  I knelt before Lilah as
Moira stood and stepped back.  "Why don't you want to obey Moira?  I know
you love her." As I spoke I put one hand in the small of Lilah's back and
pushed my other up under her shirt, fondling her belly and her flat chest.
The second-grader was already thoroughly conditioned to accept that adults
were allowed to touch her sexually at any time without asking permission,
but it never hurt to reinforce.  Plus it was fun.  Her skin was hot and
dry, almost feverish.  Her little nips popped out slightly as I pinched
them lightly.  I sniffed covertly, smelling the intoxicating mixture of
little girl smell, baby shampoo, and cooling semen.

   Lilah's scowl deepened.  "No!" she repeated.

   I sighed theatrically.  "Lilah, if you don't obey Moira there's going to
be punishment.  You don't want that, do you?"

   "You won't!" Lilah said.  "Only Daddy can punish me, and he won't
either! He used to try to, but then I kissed his penis and then he
thquirted his juice on me, and then, and then he got thleepy.  And when we
woke up he forgot!  So there!"

   I couldn't argue with that.  The death of Rubin's wife, Lilah's mother,
had utterly destroyed him.  His religion notwithstanding he'd apparently
decided that for the rest of his life he would take whatever he wanted
since it could all be taken from him at any second.  He'd stopped caring
about his daughter except as a fuck-socket.  Moira took care of all the
little girl's daily needs, woke her, fed her, dressed her, got her off to
school on time, supervised her homework, got her high, wiped cum off her
face and hair, put her to bed.  The only reason Rubin settled for
facefucking the seven-year-old during the week was that pounding her baby
pussy left her limping for most of the next day and that would raise
eyebrows at school.

   But I wasn't going to argue.  "I didn't say you'd be punished, Lilah." I
sighed again.  "I hoped you'd be a good girl.  Remember, this is your
fault." I turned to Moira.  "Take off your dress."

   "What?" Karen spoke for the first time.  She sat up a little straighter,
adjusting the icepack she held pressed against her ravaged cunny.  I
quelled her with a look.

   Moira showed no surprise.  She didn't show much of anything.  Her face
remained blank as she unbuttoned her dress and shrugged it off her
shoulders.  It puddled around her feet.  She was wearing a plain white bra
and panty set.  "Bra," I said and just as obediently she reached up and
popped the front clasp, then shrugged it off her shoulders.  It joined her
dress on the floor.  Moira's breasts were round and full, without sag.  Her
nipples were upturned, large and brown.  The right one was just a bit less
than perfectly round.

   "Lilah, bring me your daddy's belt." Lilah's scowl had dissolved into
confusion.  Why was I making her nanny get naked?  When she didn't move I
repeated myself and she must have heard something in my voice because she
scampered to obey.  She knelt before the recliner and began clumsily
tugging the belt free of the trousers tangled around his ankles.  As Lilah
struggled, Karen was looking anxiously from me to Moira and back.  She
opened her mouth as if to speak but couldn't seem to think of what to say.

   With a last tug, Lilah finally managed to free her father's belt,
falling onto her bare butt in the process.  She got up and silently walked
over to me, tentatively raising it in both hands.  I took it.  Black
leather.  Narrow, an inch or so.  Plain silver-colored buckle.  Well
broken-in, the leather cracked around the hole Rubin habitually used.  I
put the buckle in my palm and wrapped the leather a couple of times around
my hand.  I looked down at Lilah.  Her attention had already wandered.  She
was trying to do itsy-bitsy spider with her fingertips but was having
trouble remembering how they fit together.  I looked over at Karen.  Her
look of anxiety had sharpened towards outright fear, mostly because she
didn't know what was going on.  I looked at Moira.  She was standing with
her spine straight, looking straight ahead at nothing.  Her breasts rose
and fell slightly with her breath.

   CRACK!  I slashed the belt across Moira's titties.  Karen and Lilah
screamed.  Lilah jumped in the air, so startled that she lost control of
her bladder for a second.  A little squirt of pee dribbled down her leg to
the floor.  Moira's face contorted briefly in pain.  A red line rose on
Moira's pale skin, slanting from the upper slope of her right breast down
across her left nipple.

   CRACK!  I swung the belt backhand.  Another welt arose, crisscrossing
the first.  "STOP!" Lilah screamed and tried to jump between me and Moira.
I grabbed at the child, getting a handful of hair as she darted past, and
yanked her backwards.  She lost her footing and would have fallen but I
dragged her upright.  Tears sprang to her eyes.  She started to scream and
struggle but I tightened my grip.  The pain in her scalp shocked her to
silence.

   "Moira's job, little girl, is to take care of you," I said, emphasizing
"you" with a little extra yank at the roots of the child's hair.  "That
includes making sure you do all the things you're supposed to, even if you
don't always like them.  Do you know why?" No response.  "Do you?" I yanked
again.

   "No!" Lilah yelped.

   "Tell Lilah why, Karen." Karen looked at me, startled.  Her eyes were
wide with fear and she was panting heavily enough that her little titties
jiggled in her tight top.  But as she looked at me, then at Lilah,
understanding dawned.

   "You...you have to learn how to be a good whore, Lilah," Karen gasped
out.  She swallowed, winced, anxiously pressed the icepack harder into her
crotch.  Visibly mastering herself, the twelve-year-old continued, "If you
don't do what Moira tells you, you won't learn how and you'll grow up sad
and you'll be sad all the time.  And if you don't do what Moira tells you,
other people might figure out you're a whore, and they'll take you away
from your Daddy and they'll make you stop whoring and your babycunt will
get so hot, so hot you can't stand it, and you won't be able to find a boy
to fuck you and make it feel better and oh, Jeez, it'll be so hot..." Karen
trailed off.  At some point she'd stopped talking about Lilah and started
talking about herself, but no matter.

   "So that's Moira's job, Lilah," I picked up the thread.  "But you didn't
do what you were told.  Do you know what that means?"

   "I'm bad?" the seven-year-old quavered in a tiny voice.

   "No, Lilah, not you." I was about to continue but Moira interrupted me.

   "You're not bad, Lilah.  I'm bad.  I didn't do my job.  I didn't do what
my Daddy told me.  I have to be punished." As Moira spoke her face remained
blank but at the mention of her late father her eyes filled with tears.

   "No!" Lilah cried and tried to run to her.  This time I let her go.  She
threw her arms around Moira's leg and clung.  "You're not bad!  I'm bad! 
I'm sorry, I'll be good now!"

   "I have to be punished," Moira repeated in that spooky monotone.  So I
obliged.

   CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK!  I swung the belt back and forth, striking
Moira's breasts over and over.  They bounced and jerked with each strike.
Welts arose, and then broke open, and small trickles of blood started
oozing down her midriff.  Through it all, Moira's face remained empty. 
Lilah clung and sobbed and begged me to stop, promising that she'd be a
good girl from now on.

   I stopped when my arm started to get tired.  Moira's face was streaked
with tears and she was biting her lips, but she hadn't made a sound as I
whipped her titties bloody.  Karen was likewise silent, with both hands
pressed over her mouth to keep in her cries.  Her body had been jumping in
sympathy with each strike.  The icepack had fallen off the couch onto the
floor, revealing Karen's cunt.  It was swollen like Lilah's much smaller
version and brick-red in color.  Her vulva and inner thighs were dotted
with friction rash.  Stray pubic hairs of various colors were stuck to her
skin in the coating of cum and her own heavy cream.  Her inner labia were
thickened with blood and flowered open around a gaping hole still swimming
in the semen of her day's customers.

   "Please thtop!  Pleeeease," Lilah begged.  Her face was blotchy with
crying.  She clung to Moira's leg, shaking with the force of her sobs.  A
droplet of blood fell from Moira's nipple to the top of her head.

   "Do you want me to stop?" I asked.  Lilah nodded so vigorously her whole
body quivered.  "Then it's up to you." I held out the belt.

   "Wh...what?" Lilah said.

   "I can't be here all the time.  The only person who will always know if
Moira's done her job or not, is you.  If you show me that you can punish
her, then I'll stop." The seven year old let go of Moira and took an
uncertain step towards me.  She was shivering violently now, from fear and
reaction to seeing Moira beaten.  She knew she was utterly dependent on
Moira.  Her father no longer took care of her, no longer even took much
notice except when he was raping her.  Like any small child, Lilah loved
her caregivers uncritically.  With her mother dead and her father
withdrawn, Lilah had transferred that love to Moira even if she hadn't
fully realized it until just this moment.  The events of this spring when
Lilah had first met her - Moira parading Lilah naked before a camp full of
sex criminals?  Making her present her little clam for spanking until she
was in agony?  Burning Karen with cigarettes in front of her?  Finally
terrorizing the two children until Karen forced Lilah to drink a bowl full
of semen and urine until she vomited?  To a child's time perception that
was ancient history.  Especially since now that the child in question was
being fed a hash brownie every day for an after-school snack, and half a
tab of Ecstacy for a treat every Saturday.

   Lilah reached out and took the belt in one shaking hand.  Her other hand
went to her face.  She started sucking her thumb, probably without
realizing it.  She held the belt as if it were high explosive.  She clearly
had no idea what to do next.  "Take off Moira's panties," I instructed her.
"Go on," I nodded when she hesitated.  Tentatively she reached up with both
hands and tugged on the waistband of Moira's underwear.  She stared at
Moira's trimmed muff as the cotton fabric cleared the young woman's hips
and then fell down her legs, leaving Moira naked.  Moira's pubic hair was
just a shade or two of a darker brown than the hair on her head, trimmed
into a careful triangle.  She kept her vulva shaved to show off the three
vertical hearts with twining vines adorning either side of her crack.  Her
arms were tight against her sides and she shivered briefly as her panties
landed at her ankles.

   "Sit," I commanded Moira, pointing not to the couch but to the straight
backed chair.  She did, obediently.  "Spread," I said, and she opened her
thighs.  I took Lilah's shoulder and guided her to stand before Moira. 
Tears were running freely down the little girl's face as I doubled the belt
and put the ends in her hand.  "Now, hit her there," I said, pointing to
Moira's tattooed quim.  "Ten times.  Ten good, hard times and it'll be
over."

   Lilah suffered a fresh spasm of sobs as she understood what she was
required to do.  She raised her arm awkwardly, turning her wrist entirely
the wrong way for the belt to work.  Her first attempt at a strike resulted
in a totally useless flop of the leather in the wrong direction.  I knelt
behind her and wrapped my hand around hers, guiding her arm into the
correct position.  Ah, that delectable odor of freshly-fucked elementary
schooler filled my nostrils again.  I slid my other hand up under her
shirt, and pulled her back against me.  My growing erection was pointed up
in my briefs and it nestled between her naked cheeks.  I tweaked her little
nips quickly, then slid my hand down, passing it over her prominent bald
mound.  It was hot to the touch, sticky and slimy with her father's semen.
I brushed my middle finger over the little point of her erect clit.  Lilah
went "eep!" as I flicked it back and forth.  I gently plowed up and down
her slit, forcing her labia open.  Let's see, better from the front - or
back?  Back.  I pointed my middle finger straight up and pushed.  Lilah
raised up on tiptoes as I pressed into her.  "Aaaah!  Aaaah!" she said
softly.  Her channel was thoroughly lubricated with Rubin's jizz but it was
still a wonderfully tight squeeze on my digit.  I couldn't imagine how she
managed to stretch to accommodate adult cocks.

   "Gnnn!" Lilah grunted as she lost balance and came back down heavily on
her heels.  Her baby pussy made a soft farting sound as my finger filled
her completely.  I pressed upwards, raising her slightly off her heels by
the pressure of my fingertip against her cervix, and dollwalking her
forwards until she was within striking distance of Moira, who sat
patiently, legs open displaying her tattooed cunt to her seven-year-old
charge.  I put my chin over Lilah's left shoulder so we were cheek to
cheek. I lifted her right arm again, closing my fist tightly around hers.
And then I brought the belt down.  It struck the left side of Moira's vulva
with a loud SNAP!

   This time Moira and Lilah cried out together.  I felt warm tears on my
cheek that was pressed against the little girl's.  Moira raised her hands
to grip her bloodied breasts.  The soft flesh went white around her
fingertips.

   "Your turn," I whispered to Lilah, and let go of her whip hand.  She
visibly gathered herself.  I felt her tense around my penetrating finger,
then the belt went "swish!" It struck Moira on the inside of her right
thigh, but not nearly hard enough.  I jammed my finger up, making Lilah
groan.  "Not hard enough!" I said.  "You have to do it right, no cheating.
Not only doesn't that one count, you just earned Moira 5 more.  Now you
have to whip her cunt fifteen times."

   I felt Lilah shake her head against mine.  "No, you have to," I
insisted. "Now, get started.  If you want to be a good girl, you have to."

   Lilah was crying full out now, but she obediently raised her arm, and
this time I could tell she put all of her pathetic strength into it.  That
was enough.  CRACK!  The belt fell dead-center on Moira's slit.  She yelped
again in pain.  I looked over at Karen.  She was crying too, but silently.

   It took Lilah half a minute or so to recover herself after each strike.
I helpfully kept count.  Moira's vulva reddened and swelled under the
punishment.  Her naked body jerked in the chair each time the thin leather
snapped against her most tender parts.  At about the fifth or sixth lash I
felt something bump against my hand where it wedged between Lilah's thighs.
I looked down.  Lilah was rubbing circles around her baby clit with the
first two fingers of her free hand.  Like an injured kitten purring she was
self-soothing by masturbating.

   "Fourteen," I said.  Lilah's arm drooped.  The little girl was covered
in sweat now.  Her shoulder and cheek were damp against my chin.  The roots
of her white-blond hair were darkened with moisture.  Her bare skin shone
under the overhead light.  Her fingers slid wetly back and forth over her
retracted clitoral hood.  Inside, her vagina clenched and twisted around my
middle finger.  Her whole body shook with sobs.  Moira was crying too, but
silently.  There was a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead and her upper
lip.  Her face was tracked with tears.  The only noise she made was a low
groan of pain each time the belt slapped against her vulva and thighs. 
They were crisscrossed with red marks now.  The labia majora were puffy,
squeezing against the equally swollen inner lips.  She was still clutching
her own breasts.  Blood seeped between her fingers.

   Lilah's arm trembled as she tried to raise the belt for the final
strike. "Last one, sweetie.  You can do it," I encouraged her, wiggling my
finger inside her baby cunt.  Lilah took a deep breath.  She screwed her
eyes shut, pulled her arm back, and slashed down with all the strength she
had left.  CRACK!  The belt landed squarely on Moira's clit.  Moira howled.

   "Uhh!" Lilah grunted as I yanked my finger out of her quim.  She
collapsed into a heap, all bony elbows and knees.  But she gathered herself
and crawled unsteadily to Moira, pulling herself up and wrapping her arms
around Moira's slender waist.  Lilah rubbed her face all over Moira's
trimmed bush, blubbering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll be good." The crinkled
hair became wet with her tears.

   At the same time, Karen launched herself off the couch.  She bent down
next to Moira, gathering the young woman in her arms.  She pulled Moira's
face to hers.  Their lips met.  Their mouths opened.  Karen's tongue snaked
out and she moaned in unalloyed pleasure as Moira kissed her back.  This
was all she had ever wanted.  Since the first time she had felt Moira's
fingers toying with her babycunt as they rode in the back seat of Moira's
car, Karen naked and sticky with heat.  Her body cried out for Moira's
touch, no matter the humiliations and pain Moira had heaped on her.  Moira
had taught her how to be a whore, how to sell her preteen body to
strangers, and how to gratify and (however temporarily) slake the terrible
need that burned inside her.  And for that Karen loved her.

   Moira broke their kiss, panting.  She tried to pull away from the
twelve-year-old.  "No," she said.  "No...I can't...Daddy says..."

   "Forget your Daddy," Karen cried.  "He's not here." She kissed the tears
from Moira's face.  "And if he's a good daddy he wants you to feel good and
be happy." She pressed her lips to Moira's again.  Moira sobbed into her
mouth and struggled, but only weakly.  Karen gently removed Moira's hand
from her left breast and replaced it with her own.  With her other hand she
reached back and undid the string of her top, letting it fall free from her
own, smaller boobies.  Moira's hand slid up Karen's flat stomach, up and
over the swollen, cherry-sized nipple.  Karen gasped as Moira traced the
crescent scar of a cigarette burn.

   As Moira and Karen kissed and fondled, Lilah continued rubbing her face
around Lilah's crotch.  I saw Moira's eyes fly open and heard her gasp into
Karen's mouth.  Lilah had extended her pointed tongue and licked the length
of Moira's protruding inner lips.  Her mouth opened and she began to nuzzle
and kiss all around them, and onto the tattoos to either side.  "Kiss it,
make it better," the little girl mumbled.  Moira's hand stroked Lilah's
damp hair as she continued to orally minister to her nanny.  Moira's labia
minora began to open like a flower, revealing the pink, glistening flesh
within.  Lilah's tongue became coated with Moira's first nectar, and her
scent began to fill the room.

   Karen's hand reached blindly to Lilah's head, too.  Her fingers met
Moira's.  The stroked the child's hair and face together, fingers twining.
"Ohhh," Karen moaned softly.  "Touch me, Moira.  Touch my babycunt.  It's
so hot.  Please touch me.  Touch my babycunt, touch my babycunt..." And she
did.  With one hand on the seven-year-old's hair, urging the little girl to
continue her cunnilingus, Moira's other hand trailed down to Karen's messy
crotch, sliding over her smooth, gooey mound.  Her fingers curved and
pressed upwards.  "Yes!" Karen cried out in joy as she felt the
penetration.

   The room filled with the wet sounds of flesh against flesh and moans of
pleasure.  Karen's scent rose, lighter and less musky than Moira's.  Moira
began to squirm in her chair, overtaken by the sensations of being fondled
by a girl of 12 and eaten out by another of only seven.  Her legs began to
tremble and from there shivers radiated up the length of her bare body.  "I
can't," she mumbled.  "I can't, I can't, I can't." But she could.  Her body
went stiff and her eyes opened wide.  She tore her mouth free of Karen's.
"DADDEEEEEEE!" she squealed as an orgasm rose up and crashed down upon her.

   As the tide of pleasure receded, Moira went entirely limp.  She slumped
down in the chair, Karen grimaced as two fingers pulled free of her
saturated quim and Moira's arm dropped to her side.  Her other hand slid
off Lilah's wet hair.  Lilah for her part didn't stop sucking and licking
at Moira's cunt and as a result, the young woman shivered with orgasmic
aftershocks.

   It was a beautiful, erotic tableau: a small child, an older, barely
preadolescent girl, and a young woman, all locked in a sexual 3-way.  And I
was at my limit.  I dug in my pocket, came out with a crumpled
twenty-dollar bill.  I jerked Karen to her feet.  The naked sixth-grader's
expression was dreamy and relaxed until I brandished the bill before her.
Then, for just a second, there was something horribly sad in her
expression, so sad that, were I less desperately horny, I might have
hesitated.  But it was gone in an instant, replaced with the hard-eyed,
brittle professional smile of the seasoned prostitute.  It was the only
thing that made Karen look older than her twelve years.

   I shoved Karen and she sprawled back onto the couch.  I yanked down my
trousers and threw myself atop her slender form.  Just a second to adjust
and then I buried myself in her.  "Yes!" Karen cried, but this time almost
angrily, her voice thick with lust.  "Fuck me!" she almost spat the words.
I had no time for finesse.  I started rutting into the little girl with
abandon.  "Fuck me!" she repeated.  "I'm a whore!  Fuck my whore babycunt!
Fuck my babycunt, fuck it, fuck it, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckFUCKOH JEEEEZ!" I
would never have been able to hold back long enough to bring her over had
not Moira's fingers already gotten her so close.  Her scream caused my nuts
to draw up and as her tight vagina clamped down even harder I ejaculated
almost painfully.  My bush was suddenly soaking in hot girl-cum as Karen
squirted all over both of our thighs.  I jammed myself as deep inside Karen
as her juvenile cunt could take as I filled her with my own semen.

   Finally, my climax receded.  Spent, I rolled off the twelve-year-old and
slumped next to her.  We were both panting and sweaty from the exertion.  I
stared up at the white ceiling, zoning out in pure oxytocin bliss.

   My daze was broken by the feeling of a tiny hand manipulating my
softening penis.  I raised my head and looked down.  Lilah had crawled
between my legs.  She held my cock in her palm.  She examined it critically
from all angles, and then stuffed it into her mouth.  I grunted; I was
almost painfully oversensitive as she cleaned me, her tongue swiping up and
down.  After a moment she sucked hard and pulled off, until it came free
with an audible pop.

   Without a word Lilah crawled over my leg and settled between Karen's and
went to work, slurping at the older girl's gaping hole, digging in her
tongue and sucking noisily to get at the load of freshly-deposited cum. 
She pushed herself up with her hands on Karen's bare thighs.  She licked
her lips and swallowed with some effort.  The whole lower half of her face
was wet and shiny.  "I want to be a good girl now," she said plaintively.

   Before anyone could answer there was a lugubrious, phlegmy snore from
Rubin.  He shifted in his recliner but didn't wake.  Moira and Karen looked
at each other and burst out laughing.  Lilah looked back and forth between
her abusers, her babysitter and her nanny.  She smiled uncertainly.

   "Yes, you're a good girl, Lilah," Moira said, getting to her feet and
bending to pick up her clothing.  "Come on, let's go pick up your toys and
then we'll have a bath."
   To be continued...

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