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From: "Nikki@P.U."
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.incest
Subject: LITTLE BLIND GIRL (Mf, oral; inc, m/g, pedo)
Date: Mon, 20 Sep 2004 20:28:57 -0700
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LITTLE BLIND GIRL (Mf, oral; inc, m/g, pedo)
BY CC
cc_2222@mail.com
"Oh, won't someone help me? Please, somebody help me, please, please!"
The little girl's cries went ringing out, but in the hubbub and
commotion no one answered her. She could hear the crackle, and feel the
heat of the flames. She felt her way along the brick wall. The wrong
way; she could feel the increasing heat of the bricks. She turned
around, but quickly hit a cul-de-sac. She was desperate, and, despite
the risk, she decided she would have to strike out into the open, away
from the meager comfort of a wall she could touch. She wished she had
her cane, but in the rush out of the orphanage, it had been knocked from
her hand, and no one had paid any heed to her pleas that it be returned
to her.
Once outside the building, she had been quickly left behind, no one
caring about the little blind girl who couldn't keep up. She had always
been too much trouble to them anyway. *****-ia had little money to spare
on orphanages, and less for 'special needs' children. If the staff had
been able to work her more than they did, they would have. As it was,
she was pressed into service in the kitchen, mostly, peeling potatoes or
other tasks for which sight was unnecessary.
She was punished frequently, as most of the children were, and somewhat
harshly. A kind word and a hug after each whipping would have gone far
to ameliorate the effects, perhaps even leave her feeling deserving and
grateful for the attention. But there were no hugs for the little blind
girl. Her only comfort in life thus far had been a missionary couple who
had spent some time ministering to the children in the orphanage, during
one of the periods in which *****-ia's government was willing to allow
it. Under those sweet souls' guidance she had even converted. But they
had left, perforce, and she was alone again. She had some dim awareness
of the fact that the treatment she received was not what it should be.
Indeed, it was worse than she knew. Being more vulnerable than most of
the children, and sweetly pretty to boot, the mostly male staff of the
orphanage singled her out for corporal punishment. For as long as she
could remember, she would be frequently stripped, and a strop or switch
applied to her bottom and thighs as she yelped. Now she was approaching
ten years old, and the aim of her tormentors was shifting: more and more
of their strokes landed on the front of her thighs, sometimes even
smacking full upon her unfledged cleftlips and clitoris. Afterwards one
or another of the staff would pretend to 'check' her, rubbing her
bottom, their hands trailing towards her girlhood.
All this attention could not fail to affect her. In her little bed at
night she couldn't help but remember each episode. She feared the
discipline, the sting on her naked body, the shame of knowing she was so
exposed to grown men while still a preteen. But somehow each session
left her...unsatisfied, and as she lay in bed her fingers strayed to her
little girlcleft, pressing and rubbing, as she stifled the little cries
she would have made if she weren't afraid that someone would hear her.
She had no hope that her lot would improve anytime soon. There was no
one to tell about it, for one thing. She had become aware that the
police chief, and the local inspector, who should have been monitoring
the care of the children, would often be invited over to witness, and
even take a hand in, her punishments, and those of some of the other
children. She had heard rumors of what happened to the girls who were
just a little older than she...
She gingerly stepped away from the wall, still calling out to anyone who
might be willing to help her. At least she felt the heat of the fire
fading. But people were still rushing past her, no one stopping, no one
saying anything to her. As little comfort as they were to her, she would
have been glad to find any of the staff at the orphanage, or the other
children. None were around, seemingly.
"Lost yer chums, little missy?" The voice was suddenly right next to
her, and she started back, but tripped over some debris in the street
and fell, fortunately without injury. She was too stunned to resist as a
hand grasped her arm roughly and hauled her to her feet. "It's dangerous
out here, now ain't it, little missy, especially for someone like you! I
think you'd better be comin' with me." Without waiting for a reply from
her, the man (she could tell that from his voice, and strength...and
smell!) hustled her down the street. She came to herself, realizing that
she was in at least as much peril with him than without him, and
probably more. She struggled and kicked, still hollering for help,
seemingly uselessly; certainly he seemed not to mind, paying no more
attention to her resistance than a tree would.
There was a bump, almost a shock; it seemed as if something had collided
with the man. His grip slackened, then fell away. She heard him grunt,
panting, as if he was straining at something heavy, then silence from him.
"Are you all right, little one?" The voice was soft, a pleasant baritone.
"Y-yes, I guess so." She trembled, wondering who this was, what would he
do with her. How would all this turn out?
"Did he...hurt you?"
"No, I'm all right. He scared me!" She felt the tears, so close to the
surface even at the best of times, now leaking out of her sightless eyes.
A soft touch, not the man's hand that she expected to feel at any time,
but a cottony gentleness, was pressed against her cheek. She reached up
and took it; a man's handkerchief, smelling of fabric softener and
bleach, a simple thing, but finer than she was used to. In a daze, she
dabbed at her eyes for a moment, then reached out and grabbed the man's
wrists, and flung herself into his embrace, burying her face in his
shirt, sobbing uncontrollably. He gently enfolded his arms about her,
rocking her back and forth as her shoulders shook.
"Little one...little one..." She came to herself to realize that he was
speaking gently to her.
"W-what? What did you say?" she stammered out.
"We should get you away from here. The fire is spreading. It's not safe.
Is there anywhere you want me to take you? Someone you want me to find
for you?" His tone was gentle but insistent. She could sense his concern
for her.
"N-no. NO! I...I don't want to go back. There's no one there I want to
be with. W-won't you take me somewhere safe? Please, mister?" Tears
continued to leak as she begged him. She knew it was a risk, but he
seemed nice. And almost anything would be better than her life so far.
"Should I take you to the police station, then? Surely they would..."
but she cut him off.
"NO! No, please! They...I don't want...please mister, just take me
somewhere, OK? Please?"
"Hmmm. I guess I could get you somewhere safe, at least for a little
while. Follow me." He turned and headed off, assuming she would follow.
She tried to hear his footsteps, and stay up with him, but she quickly
tripped over some debris and fell, luckily without injury. "M-mister!
Mister, please!" He heard her cry and spun around, leaping to her side
and lifting her gently to her feet.
"Are you all right?!" he inquired.
"I...I...I can't see," she finally admitted, miserably.
"Did you hurt your eyes in the fire?" he asked.
"N-no. I-I never could see. I guess I was born that way, I dunno." She
was heartsick. Surely he would consider her worthless, too, just like
the staff at the orphanage; too much trouble to care for.
"I'm so sorry; I didn't know. Don't worry, I'll hold your arm and walk
more carefully. But let's hurry as much as we can, OK? Can't you feel
the heat?" And indeed she could; with her heightened nonvisual senses,
she could tell the fire was closing in. She was glad to feel his arm
around her shoulders as he led her off, leaving the crackle and smoke
behind.
After a short walk, he paused, and she heard a car door opening. "Be
careful getting in," he advised, as he slowly led her to crouch down and
slide onto the seat. "Can you buckle yourself?"
"...Yes, I've got them," she said as she located the ends by touch. The
ride was smooth, and brief. "Where are you taking me?" she finally got
up the courage to ask.
"To my chateau. Is that all right?"
"Y-yes. I guess so. I dunno where else to go," she added despondently.
"Please don't be so sad," he told her. "I'll help you as much as I can.
I won't give you up to anyone you don't want to be with. I won't let
anyone hurt you. You're a beautiful little girl," she made no sign, but
inwardly she brightened at this; no one had ever called her beautiful
before! "And I want to take care of you any way I can," he finished. She
settled back in her seat, satisfied for the moment.
They arrived at the chateau and he escorted her in. He took her to a
room with a soft sofa and sat her down. "You stay there for a moment.
Are you hungry?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed. He grinned, then caught himself, realizing she
couldn't see him.
"Good!" he said, "I'll get you some lunch."
After she had eaten, he led her to the room he planned for her to stay
in. She asked him to let her feel her way around it, after removing any
objects in the middle of the room. She sped around the perimeter with a
deft touch, learning her way by feel. He marveled at her. She did the
same thing in the bathroom, and then said, "C-could you...ummm..."
"Oh. OH, sure! Sure, I'm sorry. Here. Here's a bell," he handed her a
small copper bell. "If you need anything, or just want to talk, ring it.
I'll be back in a little while, anyway. OK?"
"OK!" He closed the door behind him.
For the next few weeks she lived an idyllic life. He was there to help
her with anything she wanted. She ate better than she ever had. Her
sheets were soft. He bought her new clothes, that fit her, and were so
much more comfortable than what she had worn before. And there was
music! Beautiful string quartets, and symphonies! And Dr. Ferrel (he had
introduced himself, of course) could play the piano so wonderfully.
Nadya (for that was the girl's name) would sit and listen to him for an
hour or more, eyes closed, swaying in time to the music.
And they would sit and talk. Guilelessly she told him all about her
short, sad life. He marveled at the sweetness she had retained despite
her suffering. And he was...aroused by certain of her experiences. For
she had left nothing out, even recounting her treatment at the hands of
the staff, and her own reactions to it.
Dr Ferrel knew himself, and he knew something would have to change.
Finally he sat Nadya down for a serious talk. "Little one, I need to
tell you something. You have become very dear to me." She smiled shyly,
still facing partly away, as was her wont. It made more sense to turn
one ear towards him, rather than her eyes, after all. "But you must know
something about me. I find that I can't keep going on the way we have
been. It is getting too hard on me." She looked stricken. She was too
much of a bother!
"Oh, Dr Ferrel, please, please don't send me away! I can help out! I can
learn my way around the kitchen, and peel potatoes, and..." He cut her
off, aghast that she had jumped to such a conclusion.
"No, no! That's not what I mean at all! I don't want you to go. Quite
the opposite. Let me explain." She was mollified for the moment, and sat
back to listen.
"First I have to know how much you know about some things. Do you know
what it means to be married?" Though blind, she had perhaps
instinctively mastered the typical preteen
'of-I-know-that-do-you-think-I'm-stupid?' look. "I'll take that for a
yes," he chuckled.
"Then let me ask you this: do you know what sex is?" She looked down;
she wasn't sure she liked where this was going.
"Yes..."
"Do you know what 'sexual desire' is?" She looked puzzled. "Sexual
desire is like being hungry for food, only it's 'hungry' for having sex.
Most men have this desire often. Many women and girls do, too. Do you
understand so far?"
"...Uh-huh."
"There actually are different types of sexual desire. Most men just have
sexual desire for women and girls, usually pretty ones. But some men
have other desires in addition to that. These other desires are called
'fetishes', and they come in many different forms. For instance, believe
it or not, little one, there are some men who don't get fully sexually
excited unless the woman they are with is wearing shoes, sometimes a
particular type of shoes, like high-heeled red ones." She looked
astonished. "It's true! And there's many other totally different kinds
of fetishes.
"You might have guessed why I'm telling you all this. I am one of those
men who have a fetish. Actually two of them. One of them is this: I
enjoy spanking and sexually punishing a girl before and during sex. Oh,
I can have sex without it, but it's much more enjoyable for me with it.
I'm not talking about anything very painful; just the kind of
punishments that any father might give his little girl if she's been
naughty. But I do them...a little differently!
"The other desire I have is to have sex with a very young girl. A girl
with slim hips, like yours," and he traced his hand over hers, as she
froze to the touch, freaked out, but at the same time not scared at all.
"And only buds for breasts, like you," and he caressed her little
nipples through her thin blouse, making her tremble. "And the face of an
angel, like yours," and he kissed her full on the mouth, not deep, but
long and sweet. She was swaying where she sat, eyes half-closed, when he
finally drew away. He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face
towards his. "So that's how it is, little one. I desire you. I love you.
I want to take you as my daughter, and my wife, and my slave. I will
love you, and cherish you, protect you, and care for you. I will also
punish you, and use you sexually, like a husband with his wife, and a
master with his slavegirl.
"But if you don't want that, I understand. It's a lot to ask! But if I
can't have you completely, then I don't think I can bear to keep on
living in the same house as you; it would be too frustrating for me! So
I'd probably find another orphanage for you to stay in, I guess..." She
pulled a face, the universal preteen 'yuck' face. "I'll take that to
mean you don't like that idea," he chuckled. She smiled shyly. "Well,
little one, I'll tell you what. You sit here and think about it for a
while. You don't have to decide right away. But sometime in the next few
days I need to know what you want to do." He smoothed her hair back and
kissed her forehead, then left her alone.
He went into the next room, hoping against hope that she would decide
right away, but fearing it would be a few days at best, and then not
favourable. He was startled to hear, only a few minutes later, the
little handbell tinkle. He rushed back in to find her with her arms
stretched out towards the sound of his approach. He swept her up into
his arms, lifting her off her feet and hugging her tight as her little
sweet voice tickled his ear, "I wanna stay with you! I wanna stay with
you!" He held her for a long time, just reveling in the feel of her
slender body pressed against his, nuzzling her silky hair, feeling her
little sighs, receiving her butterfly kisses.
After a while he gently set her down, and spoke softly in her ear, "I
think you've been a naughty little girl. You need a spanking." She
stiffened for a moment, then relaxed against him, trembling. "Shhh,
shhh, it's OK, it's all right. Don't be afraid. Listen carefully, little
one. If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say 'No' or 'Ow' or
'don't' or 'stop'. Understand?"
"Y-yes," she replied, still trembling.
He gently bent her under his arm, tossed up her skirt, and gave her a
few light swats on her bottom. Then he let her up. She straightened, her
little face screwed up in a quizzical look. "Is that all? They used to
whip me MUCH harder than that! You-yer gonna have to spank me harder,
and longer. That wasn't nuthin'!" She bent herself under his arm again
and waited. He gaped in astonishment, but quickly collected himself, not
about to pass up the marvelous gift she was giving him. He proceeded to
give her a brisk, business-like spanking, smacking one cheek then the
other, as she danced and jiggled, moaning and yelping. But she never
said 'Ow' or 'don't'!
As he spanked her, she was in almost a daze. It was as if she was back
in the orphanage, somehow, being punished like she used to be. Or
perhaps she was really in her little bed at night, pretending to be
punished, spanking her own bottom, rubbing herself...She half expected
to be abused as she had been before, neglected, unloved...But then he
was done spanking her, and stood her up, and enfolded her in his arms
gently, and held her, and rocked her, and reached down to rub her
reddened bottom as she whimpered and sniffled.
The next day Dr Ferrel lost no time. He made the necessary connections,
and soon had both adoption papers and a marriage license for Nadya and
himself. A short wedding ceremony before a friendly priest with
well-crossed palm completed the arrangements. Then they were home, and
up in his room, and he stood her in the middle of the room and kissed
her. "It's time for me to see my little daughter, and slave, and wife."
He began to unbutton her blouse as she shivered. One piece after another
was removed, and soon she stood naked before him.
She was gorgeous. A stunning preteen, the top of her head barely coming
up to his chest. Long, silky dark blonde hair. She was heartbreakingly
slender, despite her recently improved nutrition. Her breasts were mere
buds, topped by little nipples, barely breaking the plane of her chest.
Her slim thighs framed her unfledged girlcleft, puffy immature lips
around a prominent clitoris. She shivered at the thought that she was so
exposed to him, although of course she had no conception of what it was
like for him to see her.
Then he took off all his own clothes and stood before her. "You see with
your hands, don't you, little one? Then come take a good look at me."
She reached out and stroked his face. She'd run her fingers over it
before, loving the feel of his shaven cheeks and jaw, his strong nose,
his bushy eyebrows. Then she ran down his neck, to his hairy chest which
she had not felt before. Then down, down, until suddenly she encountered
the end of his rampant rod. She gasped, and jerked her hand back for a
moment, but he just stood there, stolidly, waiting. Gingerly she reached
out and touched his glans with one finger, then her hand, running up and
down the shaft, taking in the size of it. He was really little more than
average length, but of course his rod seemed enormous to a
ten-year-old's hand.
As she gingerly touched it, he commanded, "Show me where that goes,
little one." She was startled for a moment, but then, almost
mischievously, she pointed between her legs. "Very good. Now show me
where else it goes." She was stumped for a moment, but dredged up
memories of some of the teens in the orphanage, talking about...She
pointed to her mouth, questioningly. "That's right. It goes there, too.
Now," and his voice sank to a hoarse whisper, "Where else does it go?
The only place left it could go?" She was dumbfounded, stricken for a
moment. Shaking, her hand crept back between her legs, reaching for her
anus...
He caught her up in his arms again, now enfolded in a wonderful
skin-to-skin hug. He meandered over to the bed and sat down, pulling her
across his lap as he did so. His hard rod pressed against her waist as
his hard hand spanked her thoroughly, her little naked body jerking and
rocking with each smack. Suddenly he stopped, spun her over in his lap
so that she was lying face up, and gave her 3 sharp smacks directly onto
her girlhood as she cried out wildly. Then he was holding her, soothing
her, rubbing her gently on her cleft and clitoris as she moaned and
trembled. Soon her little hips were moving of their own accord, pressing
her moistening cleft against his insistent hand. She was yipping and
yelping, bucking and rocking, and finally coming on his hand as he
punctuated his caresses with sharp smacks to her clitoris that drove her
to distraction.
Finally she was spent, lying in his arms, burning and murmuring. He let
her relax for a while, but his frustration was almost unbearable. "Get
up, little one, I want you on your knees before me." She slowly arose,
shivering as he slid his hands up and down her slender body. Now she was
kneeling on the bed as he stood in front of her, his erect manhood, had
she been able to see it, only inches from her lips. He kissed her
forehead and cheek, then her lips. "I'm going to rape your mouth now,"
he told her. "Make a tunnel with your tongue and the roof of your mouth."
She complied, eyes closed now with embarrasssment and anticipation. "You
don't need to move your mouth or anything; I'll take care of that. But
something will come out of me when I'm done." She stiffened in alarm.
"Don't worry, it's not pee!" She relaxed. "I want you to swallow what
comes out; many girls do."
He took her face and head in his hands and moved in. She trembled when
his glans touched her lips, but didn't resist as he slid into her little
mouth. Even halfway in, as far as he thought he could go without gagging
her, his shaft filled and stretched her lips. He worked in and out of
her as she whimpered softly. Even though he had occasionally relieved
himself since the little blind girl had come to live with him, the scene
was too intense; the sight, sound, and feel of a little preteen girl
with his manhood in her mouth was more fetching than anything he'd ever
experienced. In no time he was emptying himself in her mouth as she
struggled to swallow all of the unexpected rush of hot liquid. In her
naivete she was unable to, and much of it dribbled out of her mouth and
onto her chest, then down her belly.
As he groaned out the last of his climax, he slipped out of her, grabbed
up a nearby towel, and tenderly wiped her face. Then, careless of any
traces of his seed still remaining on her lips, he lifted her up and
kissed her long and sweetly. He lay down with her on the bed, cuddling
her, kissing her silky hair, caressing her cheek, whispering in her ear
how much he loved her as she snuggled into his chest, profoundly happy
for the first time in her life.
He awoke in the late evening to find her still snuggled against him. He
propped up on one elbow and surveyed the scene: a beautiful, blind,
preteen girl was naked and snuggled up against him, having been stripped
naked and sexually punished by him, brought to a noisy orgasm by him,
and having been orally raped by him. It was altogether the most glorious
experience he had ever had. He had come to *****-ia to train local
doctors in medical techniques, and to treat some of the government
officials, so he had some influence and power. Which he had been
somewhat counting on, as he had another purpose in coming, one which had
been fortuitously fulfilled in a manner he did not intend: to obtain a
preteen girl to be his little slave-daughter-wife. And now his deepest
desire had come true, and in such a remarkable and delightful way!
The next few days they spent in a loving daze. He took her to the
symphony, a jazz concert, to hear the birds at the park. He played, and
she sang (a sweet little voice) *****-ian folk songs. He taught her
Braille, to her evident delight.
Whenever he felt like it he would run his hands over her body through
her clothes, or slip them up inside her blouse or skirt, molesting her
charms as she moaned. He spanked her often, even tossing her skirt up on
the edge of a public place and smacking her bottom, a few people
noticing as if on the periphery of their vision, not quite sure what was
going on, the brief discipline over before they could figure out that it
was a preteen girl being spanked on her naked bottom, her little cleft
exposed for any to see who were close enough.
Every evening before bed he punished her thoroughly, whipping her
thighs, bottom, and breasts as she trembled and yelped. It was
particularly attractive to him, that she could not see him. Of course,
if she had her sight, he could still have used a blindfold, but she was
so pretty, he was glad he didn't have to cover her looks up, and still
have the same effect. He could walk quietly around her, and swing the
crop, or belt, or switch, wherever he wanted to, and she'd have no idea
where it would land next. It seemed to increase her anxiety nicely, such
that, even before the stroke would land, she would already be whimpering
and shivering. And, after he had punished her to orgasm, he finished by
raping her mouth with welcome relief.
His frustration was building again, and he decided it was time to move
on. That day he asked her, "Would you like to go with me on a little
trip?" She agreed enthusiastically. She would go anywhere with him, and
trusted him to make it wonderful for her.
He had been preparing for this, and had her travel papers and ticket
ready. Before she knew it, she was in a large building, with many people
walking around, and loudspeakers unintelligibly announcing...something,
she couldn't make out what. She held his hand tightly as they threaded
their way to their destination. She could tell that they stood in a
short line, then walked down a narrow hallway, up a few steps, then they
were in a very narrow corridor between what felt like padded seats. He
settled her in one of them. It was quite comfortable.
"Would you like one of these, honey?" A friendly woman's voice was
speaking to her, she could tell, but she didn't know what she was
offering. She began to reach out to feel it, but her master's voice
broke in.
"It's all right, you couldn't know; she's blind, she can't see what
you're offering." He was speaking softly, so that only she and the woman
could hear.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry! It-it's a pillow, dear, would you like one?"
"Yes, please, thank you very much. I'm sorry I couldn't tell what it
was." She was sorry, too, that the woman was distressed. But where were
they? Why did she bring her a pillow?
"We'll be taking off soon, so settle in and fasten your seat belts. I'll
be back with lunch once we're in the air."
In the air! Did that mean...? She turned to her Master excitedly, but
before she could even ask, he said, "Yes, little one, we're on a plane.
Try and guess where we're going."
She sat back and thought of all the wonderful places he might take her.
Her mind was a whirl. "Paris?"
"Paris is nice, but this is much more fun than Paris."
"Oh, tell me tell me, please tell me Master!" A few heads turned at
this. Why did the little girl call her father 'Master'? Oh well, none of
their business...
"I tell you what. You wait a little while and keep listening, and see if
you can pick up any clues, OK?"
"OK!"
She gripped his arm as the plane accelerated for take-off. Idly, the
other first-class passengers wondered why the little girl didn't look
out the window...
Once in the air, Dr Ferrel took a blanket and spread it over her lap,
solicitously. Then he slipped his hand underneath it, out of sight. Soon
she had something to occupy her mind! She tried to keep her breathing
soft, but she couldn't help the screwed-up look on her face as her
Master seized her unfledged cleftlips, and pinched and twisted her
clitoris. The other passengers probably just thought she was scared of
flying, or perhaps a little air-sick...
She almost missed it. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Edwards
speaking. We're cruising at 10,000 feet, we've got a good tailwind, and
we should make Orlando ahead of schedule. The weather at DisneyWorld is
fair, 80 degrees, with no rain in sight. Have a nice flight!"
She gasped, and one of her rare smiles lit up the cabin. He smoothly
slid his hand up from her cleft and caressed her cheek. She pressed it
against his hand in love and gratitude.
Her head was a whirl of emotion and expectation. The flight seemed to go
so slow, and yet simultaneously it seemed like no time before they were
settling in at the Polynesian.
Dr Ferrel had checked ahead of time, and it was as he expected: Disney
does almost everything well. They even had an entire package for blind
children. She was met at the door of the hotel by Goofy, who took her by
the hand and helped her touch anything she wanted to, and pointed out
special features to her. Of course there was Braille everywhere, and she
delighted her hosts by reading out all the signs in *****-ian, and then
in her halting English.
It was late, and there was no time to go to the park that evening, so
they retired to their suite. Then it was Mickey who led Nadya by the
hand as she giggled. Dr Ferrel followed with a tolerantly amused smile.
Those who saw them check in assumed they were father and daughter,
perhaps even grandfather and granddaughter. How surprised and shocked
they would have been to learn that they were married! And more than
that, that the pretty little blind preteen girl was the grown man's
slavegirl. And surely none of them dreamed that, in room 352, a little
ten-year-old girl was going to be spanked, and molested, and raped by a
grown man. But that's exactly what happened.
After she had relieved herself and bathed, he arranged her on her back,
naked on the bed, and knelt over her, kissing her all over. Her
forehead, her eyelids, her glabella, the tip of her sweet upturned nose,
dusted with freckles. Then her soft mouth, butterfly kisses back from
her, the tip of her tongue even darting out to touch his, bringing
spasms to his rod! Then nibbling her neck, her delicate collarbone, then
fastening onto first one nipple, then the other, sucking, pulling,
biting as she moaned and writhed. Down to her bellybutton, pausing to
blow a flurbish into it, making her giggle. "No laughing," he commanded,
but with a smile in his voice, and smacked her once on her cleft,
sharply, making her gasp.
Then he was there, essentially raping her preteen sex with his mouth,
unceremoniously probing hard for her hymen as she arched and spasmed,
rasping her unfledged labia with his tongue, then taking her turgid
clitoris in long, excruciating bites between tongue and teeth as she
nearly screamed, bucking and rocking, clearly approaching climax. He
rose up, positioned his rampant rod at her cleftlips, and thrust firmly,
raping her of her maidenhead, driving for her cervix, as she yelled
once, loudly, then wept and wept, shoulders shaking, as he just held
her, kissing the top of her head which barely reached his chest, rocking
her softly. He stayed buried within her, not moving, but pulsating
inside her, until her distress died down to the occasional sob and
sniffle. He began to piston in and out of her, long, firm strokes, as
she cried out rhythmically with each one. The experience was
overwhelming. He loved her so much, she was so sweet, her little cleft
was so tight and yet so soft, her little cries went straight to his
brain as he raped her and raped her, and she danced on the end of his
rod. Then she was coming, spasming, wrapping her little legs as far as
they would go around him, pulling her hair, beating on his sides,
screaming. And he came inside her, emptying his seed at her cervix,
pinning her to the bed with each stroke, then finally collapsing beside
her as they clung to each other in the afterglow. She fell asleep in his
arms.
Later that night he awoke to find her still nestled up against him, her
sweet naked body pressed close to his. His rod was stirring. He couldn't
resist using her again, so he arranged her in position, chest on the
bed, knees on the floor. She roused a bit, but didn't wake, until he
began spanking her bottom! Then she awoke with a startled cry, staring
about wildly. He swept her into his arms, cuddling her, rocking her,
soothing away the night fear. She relaxed against him. Then, surprising
him, she slid out of his hands and resumed her position! He hugged her,
kissed her hair, called her his sweet beautiful little girl.
Then he spanked her and spanked her, again reddening her still-tender
bottom as she yelped. He lubricated his free hand, reached around her,
and seized her cleftlips and clitoris, kneading and working, pinching
and pulling, as he continued her discipline. Soon she was nearing
climax, and he was hard as a rock! He squirted some lubricant on her
rosebud, placed the end of his rod there, and thrust deeply into her,
raping her of the virginity of her anus as she screamed. He couldn't
believe how amazingly stimulating it was, to have his rod buried deeply
in the anus of his pretty, slender, preteen daughter-slave-wife! She was
so tight, so warm; he could feel her sphincter tighten spasmodically on
his shaft, reacting to the violation of so private a place. He stayed
buried in her as she wailed, her shoulders shaking, for a few moments.
Then she calmed down to the occasional sob and sniffle, so he commenced
to rape her anus in earnest, with long, hard, fast thrusts, pounding
into her as she cried out rhythmically, "AAAA-AAAA-AAAA!" He reached
around and continued to molest her unfledged cleft and clitoris, as he
violated her bottomflower, and soon she was coming again, yelping and
yipping, and he came too, emptying his seed in her rectum, as she
spasmed and arched under him. Again they collapsed together on the bed,
he shifting his weight to one side so as not to crush her, as she
continued to shudder and moan, until she fell asleep in his arms.
And, yes, they actually did leave the hotel room the next day and go to
the Magic Kingdom; she was only ten, after all!
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