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From: westynorth <westynorth@earthlink.net>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.incest
Subject: My Favorite Tiffany Stories - "Call Me Madam"
Date: Thu, 11 Nov 2004 05:49:15 -0700
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===================
Call Me Madam
By: Tiffany
Returning to the old house brought back a flood of memories. Its musty walls
and dark passages, peeling paint and greasy wallpaper released those
memories into my receptive mind. Every creak reminded me of my childhood.
Stains held the faces of ghosts from my past, a parade of ghosts that
spanned twelve years. Almost all made an impact on my life. One gave me
Susan, my twelve-year-old. Another gave me Samantha, my ten-year-old.
At twenty-five, I still had not found Mr. Right. The ghosts from my youth
clouded his image. I probably wouldn't recognize him if he fell on me. When
Mom died, she left me with a warehouse of conflicting emotions and a
boarding house of old ghosts.
Daddy built the big three story house. He and Mom raised eight kids in it. I
came along as the youngest was leaving the nest. I was an oops. They were
both in their late forties when I arrived. Daddy died two years later. I
don't remember him at all. Mom remained in the house and began letting out
rooms to help make ends meet.
We had six rooms to let out. In my early years, I recall lots of college
kids and single women, some had babies. As I neared puberty, she rented
exclusively to men, mostly older men. Some would say, dirty old men. She
never kept the place up; and, after a few years, the only people interested
in a room from us were bums, winos, drifters, and men hiding from their
past. A passing police cruiser would send them scurrying.
The third floor was reserved for the transients. It had three rooms and a
common bath. When the toilet ran constantly, Mom turned off the water to the
tank. The men flushed by filling a bucket from the tub. She never went up
there after that, and that was the last repair we made. I had to go up each
week. It was my job to collect rent money. Mom made me wear a short, thin
dress with no underwear on rent day.
On the second floor was another three rooms--mine, and two for fairly stable
residents. We also shared a bath that I kept spotless. Mom got a kick out of
making me share a bathroom without door locks with two men. She would not
permit me to block the door shut, nor could I hang a curtain for the tub.
After blocking it several times against her orders, she removed the door
completely. She removed my bedroom door a month later, using it to replace
one on the third floor. I never knew what privacy was after the age of ten.
On the ground floor was the living room, kitchen/dining room, Mom's bedroom,
and the suite (the former den reserved for Mom's favorite). She shared her
bathroom with him. His room cost ten dollars more a week than those on the
second floor, twice what the rooms on the third floor went for. The others
had to use the outside stairs to each floor to come and go. He was the only
guest allowed downstairs and had full use of the downstairs facilities. Mom
treated him as though he were part of the family; he could even boss me
around. Susan's father was a suite guest but a sour molester.
Mom was never what you might call attractive. Besides being old, overweight,
and sloppy, she had bad teeth and more facial hair than most of the men we
rented to. The only time I ever saw anyone flirting with her was on rent
day. Rents were due weekly. Those who fell too far behind were condemned to
share her bed. If they fell further behind, or something better was late,
out they'd go. Mom was a pig, but in a strange way, we loved each other. It
was a love hate relationship on both sides.
I knew she resented my youth and beauty. I knew she got off on placing me in
vulnerable situations. She knew I resented being used as amusement or as
bait to lure lovers to her bed. I also hated her sloppy habits and having to
do all the work necessary to make living in the house possible. I moved out
(ran away, actually) at the age of fifteen and never returned. The house was
mine by default: no one wanted anything to do with it. One walking tour
through the place and I knew why.
A dramatic change came over me when I first walked through that house after
ten years. I became horny. So much of my sexuality was tied to that house. I
never experienced sex like that after moving away. My daughters noticed the
change almost immediately. As I took them on the tour, I stopped along at
various places and described, in lurid detail, a scene of sexual molestation
that was perpetrated on me there.
I enjoyed the retelling. I enjoyed the look of shock and bewilderment my
stories generated. Their lives up to that point had been rather protected
and sedentary. They'd spent much of their formative years in my brother's
home. My brother and his family are straight arrows, conservative to a
fault. I was in and out of their lives for much of that time. Their
knowledge of sex was extremely limited. They had no idea what a golden
shower was--imagine that.
Ten years of trash and accumulated filth rendered the house worthless. Mom's
second and third mortgage made it a white elephant. What possessed me to
take it was a mystery to me then, but I took it. The family home was mine,
mortgages and all.
It took me, Susan, and Sam (Samantha) three weeks just to haul the trash to
the dump. We got help from a reclusive teenage boy who lived behind us. He
drove his father's old pickup truck back and forth between the house and the
dump on weekends. With the money I got from the sale of my car, we bought
paint, cleaning supplies, and repair materials. Benjamin and his father,
Roy, helped with repairs, asking only for a home cooked meal in return. I
used to babysit Benjamin, and Roy was the first man to put his hand in my
panties at the age of eight.
We began with the third floor rooms and rented those out as quickly as we
could. I had a mortgage to meet. By the end of our third month, the second
floor was ready. Sam and Susan had my old room, but the bath had a lock.
Those second floor rooms I intended to rent to female college students. They
remained empty, however, as I turned away one man after another. In a panic,
I accepted two renters that were every bit as low as mom ever rented to. The
girls didn't like it, and complained bitterly about the way those men ogled
them. I knew exactly what they were going through, but we remained in a
pinch. I begged their indulgence.
The downstairs took another two months to complete, but it was better than I
ever remembered it being. The project kept us behind in the mortgage
payment, so I was never in a position to be giving our boarders a hard time.
As a consequence, when the second story men bored holes through the bathroom
door to spy on the girls, I said nothing. When they broke the door lock, I
said nothing. I replaced the lock three times, then removed the door. When
the girls hung curtains, I took them down, using the lame excuse that fire
codes did not permit them. They protested, just as I had done, but they
learned to live with the situation.
I had no intention of running the house as my mother had done, but I soon
found myself doing exactly that. Circumstance conspired to bring that about.
I suppose the same thing happened to my mother. When you must rent to dirty
old men, and you must put up with their shit, and you have a sexy young
daughter or two, what's a mother to do. You can't keep fighting it. Like
trying to hold back a storm tide, you just wear out and the water keeps
rising. Mom surrendered, and so did I.
Not a day went by that I didn't have to listen to what those men did on
walking into the bathroom and finding a little girl on the toilet, or taking
a bath. I knew the tales; I lived them all. I've had winos pee between my
legs while I sat on the toilet, pee in my bath, and pee on me while in my
bath. I've had them wipe their drippy dicks on my face. I've been wiped and
washed and scrubbed between my legs with a toilet brush. I've been dried
until my skin glowed red, especially in my crotch, and I've been raped in my
bathroom too many times to count. Samantha was probably conceived in that
bathroom.
Complain as they did, they got the same answer I got: "My hands are tied,
kid. We are behind in the mortgage. If he moves, we could lose the house.
You'll just have to put up with it for a little while longer."
They were as innocent as I was, and I took great pleasure in telling them
they had no choice but to tolerate the indecencies and the loss of privacy.
I looked forward to the day when the first came to me holding her sore
pussy, crying about the nasty man who put his thing in her vagina.
Hopefully, before that day came, I could get them to stop calling a cock a
thing and a pussy a vagina. I'd hold her, soothe her, and make her tell
mommy all about it. And then, I'd tell her there was noting I could do about
it. I'd tell her to be nice to the man so he wouldn't move out, but to be
sure and tell mommy everything he does. I'd then wipe her pussy and legs,
swat her playfully on the fanny and send her out to play.
I figured the first would be Samantha, oddly enough. She took to exposure
like a politician. She liked it when the men peed between her legs and hit
her vagina with their piss stream. She liked having the men scrub her in the
tub and dry her. Susan reported that her sister often ran around naked and
went into the mens' rooms with them. I knew Sam wasn't getting screwed; she
would tell me. She freely admitted sucking on their cocks until the stuff
came out. I praised her for making the men happy, and told her that, thanks
to her, they would probably stay. Susan could not believe I did that.
Susan was more like me at that age: shy, modest, inhibited, and submissive.
She has my features. The girls have different fathers and look nothing
alike. Sam is dark with curly hair, a precocious little nymph; Susan is
light blond, fair skinned, with long straight hair, a budding Barbie doll.
Both look adorable, but Susan is developing into her woman's body and is
self-conscious of her titties and pussy curls. Susan tries to avoid the men,
using the bathroom when the men are away or asleep. She complains about
every intrusion, and complains most bitterly about Sam's habit of alerting
the men when Susan is in the bathroom.
Sam watches her sister's ordeal and reports from her perspective after Susan
lodges her complaint. I heard two versions of every incident. I hoped to
hear two versions of her rape. After listening attentively to both versions
of how she was forced to spread her legs to allow both men to piss into the
toilet, and how they hit her vagina on purpose; or how one held her
up-side-down while the other scrubbed the inside of her vagina with her own
toothbrush; or the time they drained her bath water then took turns pissing
on her as she sat naked in an empty tub; how they lifted Sam and encouraged
her to piss on her sister as well; I'd offer my sympathies, re-explain our
plight, then tell her to be nice. She was further vexed when, instead of
berating Sam for getting the men, or for laughing while pissing on her
sister, I hugged her and told her she was a rascal.
From the start, they also got to see me in my slut mode. Roy offered to help
out for meals, but he obviously wanted more. He wanted me. He was pretty
obvious about that, too. I worked in loose shorts and a knotted shirt
without underwear. I made Roy's job hard by making his dick hard. His son,
Benjamin, had the same difficulty when I worked with him or the two
together. I put on shameless exhibitions that made the girls giggle when
they'd see what the guys were seeing.
After our first meal together, I got up and went to Roy. I took his hand and
purred, "Desert will be served in the bedroom if you're not too full." He
followed right behind me with his tongue dragging. I took my blouse off on
the way. We fucked with the door ajar and I was quite vocal. He went out and
asked Ben if he wanted desert. Ben eased in and found me sprawled naked on
my bed with his father's cum pouring out of my pussy. He shut the door and
nervously stripped on his way to my messy beaver. I gave that kid the ride
of his life, his first fuck.
Afterward, I went out naked with cum pouring down my legs clear to my heels.
I made a special effort to parade myself before my astonished daughters.
Susan would not look down; Sam would not look up. After that, if the guys
saw something, they grabbed it. This often led to an on-the-spot fucking,
often with the girls looking on. Before the first man moved onto their
floor, they'd seen it all: fucking, cunt lapping, cock sucking, and butt
fucking. Before our first tenant moved in, they'd both had received numerous
bare bottomed spankings from Roy, and later, Benjamin.
Susan was the first, and she got it a week after that first meal. With so
much to be done, I had no difficulty finding fault with their work. I
noticed that Roy had difficulty keeping his eyes off Susan's ass and legs. I
made them both work in the tiny bikinis I'd bought them. Susan hated hers;
Sam loved hers. Both looked adorable in them. Having to do a great deal of
stooping and bending around the guys, gave the guys amply opportunity to
steal peeks. Roy was blatant about it and zeroed-in on Susan.
He liked to send her up a ladder while he held it for her, then direct her
in meaningless chores, all the while with his face near her butt. He'd
position the ladder so that she had to reach far out, left or right, forcing
her to throw one leg out as a counter balance. It didn't matter if I was
right there beside him, he'd get his nose in her crotch. This drove Susan to
distraction, but if she faltered, or brought her leg down, I'd give her ass
a smack and push her leg higher.
Her first punishment session, her first ever, was for dropping a pallet of
patching compound after Roy tried to snake his tongue under the crotch of
her suit. I instigated the incident. While holding her leg up overhead, I
stuck out my tongue, flicking air, a dare to Roy who was sniffing her
crotch. His tongue slithered under the leg band at the crotch, and the
spackle hit the floor. Roy kept licking, and I kept holding the leg for him,
so she got her twat licked anyway.
Afterward, I took Roy aside and told him of my plan to punish Susan after
our desert fuck. I asked him to deal with it. His smile almost cracked his
weathered face.
After giving Ben his desert, I walked out nude, as usual, and told Susan
that she would be punished by Roy for dropping the spackle compound that
afternoon. I turned to Roy and said, "You handle her as you see fit, Roy.
I'm sure you know how to discipline naughty young ladies. I'm sure you
appreciate the value of humiliation in curbing bad behavior. I give you a
free hand with her."
Susan's face fell. She went ghostly white. Roy took her by the arm and
strong-armed her into the living room. We all hurriedly took seats around
him when he sat on the sofa with Susan trembling before him.
The girls still had their suits on, so she was almost naked anyway. Roy
wanted her nude. He ordered her to strip. Susan pleaded and tears welled in
her eyes. She was most upset by having Ben watch. The two had been flirting
with each other. Ben was no catch, but to a twelve-year-old, he, at
seventeen, was a prize to attract or practice on.
Ben was licking his lips in anticipation, but his father was actually
drooling. My response was to laughingly say, "Come on sweetie, lets see
those new titties. And I'm sure Ben is dying to see what you have between
your legs. You've been waving that pussy in his face all week." I got us all
clapping and chanting in unison, "Strip! Strip! Strip!"
Susan stood trembling and mortified, but her fingers went to the ties. Her
top went first, then the bottoms. When they fell, she stood in a modest
pose, covering her tits with one arm and her crotch with a hand. Roy made
her stand up straight with arms at her sides. Stiffly, she assumed the pose.
He then made her move her feet out wide, very wide. He made her place her
hands on her lower ass, and lean far back. She did it, but only after a
fierce internal struggle, a show of tears, a litany of plaintive begs,
ending in total surrender when she realised her best efforts only turned us
on more.
Sam was the worst. As soon as Susan stepped out wide and kept her hands
behind her back as instructed, Sam got down and sat by Susan's left foot.
She reached up to poke, prod, pinch, and pry at Susan's pussy. Susan begged
me to stop Sam, but I said nothing. This emboldened Sam, who began
penetrating both of Susan's intimate openings. Before long, she knelt behind
her sister and reached around both hips, prying her Susan's cunt lips open
and toying with her clit, showing off the pink parts of her sister's pussy.
Ben was leaning out for a close look while I sat back, snuggled up to Roy,
enjoying the hell out of Susan's abject humiliation and Sam's antics. We let
this go on for quite some time, long enough for Susan to adjust to the
reality that she had no chance of preserving her modesty or dignity, long
enough for her body to betray her, long enough for her cunt to soak her
thighs and her nipples to get hard enough to etch glass.
Roy lectured Susan on being a responsible helper, dragging out her ordeal.
When it came time for her spanking, he sat on the forward edge of the sofa
and had her lay far over his lap with her head resting on the floor. This
had her ass up. We moved her knees apart and gathered around to look down on
her exposed pussy. We all toyed with her lucious pussy.
While we amused ourselves with her pussy and asshole, Roy delivered hand
spanks where he could. We rolled her over several times so that we could
play with her titties while Roy spanked her ass with her legs straight up in
the air. Her punishment lasted twenty or thirty minutes. She probably took a
hundred smacks. Her ass and thighs were bright red, her inner thighs were
sopping wet, and her tits were red with raw nipples.
Roy let her up, but made her stand in a corner facing out with her legs
apart and arms behind her. Her wetness ran down her legs. You'd think she'd
pissed herself. She was so humiliated. I remember my first public spanking
at the hands of Mom and three male perverts. I remember it often, but only
when I can masturbate. The way I saw it, I gave Susan a gift to last a
lifetime. She did not appreciate my gift, but in time, I knew she would.
Every workday ended with one or both girls getting a similar punishment. Sam
looked forward to her punishments. She was bad on purpose. Susan never did
grow accustomed to them, but never put up a fuss and never cried after the
first. In the weeks that followed, before we took in our first guests, the
girls had to work in the nude. Susan seldom worked without a finger or
tongue in her pussy or butthole. Sam invited them. They weren't exactly
innocent when the first man moved onto their floor. Both were still virgins,
however.
Susan knew the score. She knew I was getting my jollies by putting her in
sexual harm's way. She knew it was only a matter of time before she'd get
screwed. As I had with my mom, she grew to accept her fate, and accept her
mother as she was. She didn't understand me, but she still loved me. I
understood perfectly.
Sam was difficult for me to relate to. She wanted it all, never once showing
any reluctance. She ate up sex as we fed it to her and had a big appetite.
She was fun to watch, but not nearly as exciting to watch as Susan.
Watching Susan was like looking at myself going back in time. I could almost
read her every thought. I knew she truly hated being made vulnerable, hated
being made to expose herself, hated the humiliating spankings, hated the
dirty old men, and hated the loss of bathroom privacy. I also knew that
alone in her bed at night, her finger stole between her legs as her mind
recalled every detail. I confirmed this by going to her room, late at night
while they slept, and sniffing her fingers. The fingers of both hands reeked
of virgin pussy musk.
Besides, Sam often caught her in the act and never failed to report what she
saw at a time when I'd be talking to a guest, a prospective guest, a
neighbor, or meter man. These were terribly humiliating experiences for
Susan, but great opportunities for me to expose her to new eyes. I would act
upset and excuse myself from the visitor to address the problem. I would ask
Sam to show me what her sister was doing. Sam, of course, would try to
uncover Susan's crotch. I'd make Susan put her hands behind her back and
remain still.
Sometimes, I'd slap her to make her stay still. Before Sam proceeded, I'd
turn to the shocked visitor and say, "If you are uncomfortable, you can wait
in another room or turn your back." In all the years we played this same
scenario, no one ever went away or turned their back; not women, not family
men, not even the police who often stopped by to look for my residents.
What followed went something like this: Sam would uncover Susan's sex, then
use her own hands to simulate what she saw. The position was never right, so
I'd make Susan lie down either on the floor or on the sofa. There, Sam would
sit astride her sister's chest facing her feet and show what Susan was doing
with her hands, in effect masturbating her, doing her damnedest to fully
expose all of her sister's intimate anatomy before an astonished visitor.
I'd permit this to go on and on while lecturing Susan about her nasty habit.
I would drag this out until Sam had a chance to induce an orgasm that Susan
couldn't resist or hide. I would then berate her for deriving pleasure from
the exposure and tell her to expect a punishment.
Susan hated these exposure games more than anything, but learned to accept
them as an inescapaple fact of her life. She learned never to challenge
Sam's accusation; consequently, Sam was free to fabricate incidents to meet
any occasion or opportunity. Most of our new residents were first introduced
to Susan's naked pussy, obscenely displayed, and whipped into a froth. You
can imagine how forward they would be with her after such an exhibition of
her lusty nature and feminine charms. It was Susan's job to go around to
collect the weekly rents. She hated this, too.
For her rent collecting uniform, I had a special dress made of shear,
see-through material. From the waist up was an elastic, body-hugging, white
spandex that molded her form and showed her breasts quite clearly. A simple
finger pull would pop the top below her tits, for there was no shoulder
straps. Her skirt billowed out from just below her ass cheeks like a
ballerina's tu tu, and she wore nothing under the dress. With the dress, she
wore high heels. She was a sight out of a child molester's wet dream.
On her first collection day, we had only two residents on the third floor.
The first guy made her show him her tits before handing over the money. The
second made her take the dress off and assume obscene poses for him in her
heels. He kept her for over an hour. She had instructions from me to do
whatever was necessary to get the money. She came stomping down the stairs,
carrying the dress, her body covered in sperm strands. She walked up and
handed me the bills, saying, "Here, Mom, there's your stupid rent money. I
did what was necessary. I hope you're happy."
I simply smiled, counted the money, and said, "You did very well. Are you
still a virgin?"
"Yes, but I won't be for long if I have to keep collecting the rent in this
stupid dress."
"Well, I guess you won't be for long, then, huh?" She stormed off to her
room exactly as I had done thirteen years before her. I'm sure she did what
I had done as well--got her fingers stinky.
Her second collection day had three residents on the third floor. The first
wanted to see tits and pussy this time. The second had her strip, pose, and
fingered her. The new resident made her strip and masturbate for him while
he jerked off on her fingers, then made her masturbate to an orgasm in the
rich cream he'd deposited. She was gone for two hours, but she could have
been done after ninety minutes if she'd faked the orgasm.
After a month, we had the second and third floor rooms filled, five
residents. Her collections took four hours and she had a routine to go
through for each one. She came to me, naked, with cum running from the
corners of her mouth, cum everywhere, in fact. She handed over the money
without making a snide comment. I looked her over, told her she did well,
and thanked her for the money.
I was surprised that after two months of collections, she still had her
virginity intact. I had to surrender mine on my second outing. It became a
tossup between Sam and Susan for first prize, and I wondered what was taking
those guys so long. Was I more intimidating than my mother? I doubted that.
Was she more obvious in her desire to set me up? I didn't think I could be
more obvious. I practically presented Susan to them on a silver platter, and
permitted Sam to visit their rooms in the nude. Sam roamed the entire house,
even the third floor. They all knew that I knew what was going on and said
nothing about it. It was all very puzzling.
I was just about to send her out on her next rounds wearing only pushup bra,
crotchless panties, and heels when Sam came bounding downstairs excitedly
saying, "Mom, hurry, Susan's getting fucked!"
We both ran up the stairs and Sam led me to their room. She threw open the
door and there, on her own bed, was Susan getting humped by her next door
neighbor and floor mate, Terrence, a sixty-year-old retired railroad worker.
He knew we were standing in the doorway, but he kept pumping away. Susan
laid limply and took it while looking at me with this
I-hope-you're-satisfied-now look on her face.
Before he came, her legs came up and she dug her heels into his buttocks. He
came with her pulling him deep. When he collapsed on her, I walked up and
said, "If you plan to keep on fucking my daughters whenever the mood hits
you, I'm doubling your rent. Either that, or pay by the fuck. A fuck is five
bucks from either one. You decide, but decide right now. This fuck is on the
house."
He rolled off and looked up to me. He smiled and said, "Double my fucking
rent." His rent went from fifty to one-hundred bucks a week. After resting
for an hour, he fucked Sam. I got to watch that as well.
His other floor mate heard about the deal he had and came to me with an
additional fifty bucks. I smiled, took it, and followed him to the girl's
room where I watched him screw them both and cum in Susan. The next day, a
guy from the third floor was at my front door with forty bucks in hand, the
other half of his doubled rent. I smiled and took it. The other two third
floor residents could barely handle forty a week for a room, let alone more
for unlimited pussy. They compensated, however, by putting Susan through her
paces on rent day. Each kept her busy for over an hour and made her fuck for
the rent money.
Just like mother, I was soon running an boarding whore house, and making a
tidy profit. I used the extra money to fixup the downstairs nicely. The
suite got special attention. I wanted a special man to occupy it, a man for
me to play with. He had to be a working man, under forty, handsome, and in
shape. I knew I'd be interviewing many people before finding a suitable
applicant, but I wasn't pressed for time or money.
What I didn't realize was that renting laws had changed since the old days.
Landlords could not discriminate by age, sex, or race. A young college co-ed
challenged me with a law suit if I didn't let her have the room. I had no
choice, I rented the suite to her. The arrangement was very strained for a
while. She knew she had full access to the downstairs, my bathroom (which
was part of my bedroom and I could not lock her out), the kitchen, and TV.
She was a feisty little shit, a freshman, cuter than hell. She was a
cheerleader and was elected prom queen at her old high school. She was also
a track star with an athletic build, a tight bundle of firm hard flesh. Her
trophies filled her room. Her big tits looked out of proportion to her petit
frame. They vibrated when she walked. She stood five two and weighed
one-hundred and ten pounds. Her full head of long chestnut hair framed a
face right off of Sweet Sixteen magazine. The girl was too cute for her own
good, and too innocent to remain a virgin in my house.
She was raised on a farm, and I was certain she was a virgin. She prayed
before eating and never dated. She aspired to nursing and missionary work
after college. We had nothing in common, so we had little to talk about. We
did, however, grow comfortable with each other. My girls loved her, and she
loved talking and playing games with them. I knew that sooner or later,
Nancy would find out what went on upstairs. I told her she could not go up
there. I also told the girls not to talk about our private lives with Nancy.
Nancy also put a crimp in my sex life, which I came to resent more and more.
I had met several men who were welcome to stop by anytime for a quickie or
an all nighter. Besides Ben and Roy, there were five others, including
Terrence. I wasn't about to change my habits for her. The inevitable
happened three days after she moved in. She walked into my bedroom on her
way to the bathroom while a naked man was humping me. I watched her reaction
as she marched right past and into the bathroom, pretending not to see
anything.
She stayed in the bathroom for much longer than any good dump takes. I knew
she was waiting us out. I was determined to give her a sight she'd never
forget. I had my man sit on the edge of the bed nearest the bathroom door
and lie back. I mounted him facing the door, waiting. When the door knob
moved, I leaned back on my straight arms and bobbed my pelvis up and down on
his shaft. That's what she saw when she opened the door, and the sight froze
her for a few seconds. She went red as she stared at my cunt sliding up and
down a ten-inch cock. She made her way out and never said a word. By the
look on her face, I figured she was packing. I was wrong.
Though we tried to tone things down, Nancy caught bits and pieces of my
other activities. She liked to do her reading from a chair that had a view
up the stairwell. From her seat, she got glimpses of naked little girls and
naked old men going back and forth from the bathroom to the bedrooms. She
observed me collecting one-hundred dollars from Terrence and Henry for a
week's rent. She knew my girls shared a bathroom with the men, one with no
door. Sam let that slip. What I was not aware of was that she could hear.
The girls' bedroom was over hers.
I carried her folded towels to her room one day, thinking she was out. I set
them on her dresser while she sat on her bed against the headboard with her
knees drawn up, reading a book. The unmistakable sounds of people fucking
filtered from overhead. We could hear a stressed out kid's bed thumping
rhythmically and the sound of Susan's voice saying, "Yes! Yes! Ohh...Uhh!"
Nancy blushed when I turned and saw her. I smiled. She grimaced a shy
question, "You're pimping them, aren't you?"
I said, "What do you know about pimping?"
"I'm not stupid. I do read and watch movies. Don't worry. What you do is
your business. They're your kids."
"But you disapprove."
"It's not for me to approve or disapprove. It's not a perfect world. A woman
on her own does what she has to get by."
I took a seat on her bed, a seat with a view up her short skirt. I had a
good view of her crotch. My first good look revealed that her pink panties
were skewed and wet. The left leg band was caught in her slit, leaving her
left labia lip and clit exposed to my eyes. I had obviously interrupted her
finger play. To confirm this, I looked to her wet fingers and smiled.
Nancy saw where my eyes kept darting. She blushed a deep red. I enjoyed
making her uncomfortable and settled lower, closer, resting on my elbow with
my head in line between her feet. Looking right at her twat, I said, "So, it
doesn't bother you that I rent my little girl's pussies to horny old men?"
"No, like I said, that's your business--literally, I suppose." I remained
staring hard at her exposed cunt, making her anxious. She said, "Do you have
to stare at me there?"
"I don't have to, I want to."
"Yes, if you must know, I was masturbating. It's perfectly natural. Every
girl does. I'll bet you do it, too."
"You're right; we all do. I was just admiring your pussy from a professional
viewpoint." I kept staring, and moved closer, placing my head at her feet.
She didn't try to cover herself, but said, "What do you mean?"
"I'm in the pussy selling business, you know?"
"But mine is not for sale."
"That doesn't mean I can't admire its potential, its marketability."
"Whatever turns you on, just don't get any ideas."
She was warming to my intense stare though I coldn't see her face to
confirm. Her breathing betrayed her, as did her blushing cunt lip. After a
minute of silent staring, I said, "What a waste," the started to get up.
She quickly said, "What would it bring?...I'm just curious."
I settled and said, "Oh, I don't know...Show me what you've got."
"You mean, show you my vagina?"
"No, show me your pussy. Ladies have vaginas."
She drew a deep breath. She hesitated for a few moments, then her right hand
drifted down and hooked the crotch. She pulled it aside, exposing her sex
completely. I moved in closer, my head between her thighs and said, "Very
nice. Good form, full labia lips, a firm standing clit, juices nicely, good
hole symmetry, no blemishes. I'll need to test the hole. A tight fit is most
important. Do you mind?"
She gave a throaty, "I suppose...if you must."
I reached out my index finger and slid slowly in to the last knuckle. She
let out a gasp and stiffened as I turned and twisted my digit in her moist
slit, picking up wetness, exciting sensitive flesh before seeking out the
hole and pushing into the tight, slippery hole.
I poked and probed her opening, felt her hymen, then drew out and said, "I
could get twenty bucks a pop for this pussy. Double that for your cherry.
Split fifty-fifty, of course."
"Is that good?"
"It's good for this town. There's too much free pussy in a college town.
Free pussy drives the price down. You could go to the city and get
two-hundred for your cherry."
"Wow." She thought for a moment, then said, "Can you really find men that
would pay to have sex with me?"
"Sure, but I'll have to train you. The split is seventy-five twenty-five for
your first month. Your cherry fuck is all yours. It's a tradition."
"Wow, forty bucks. That's almost a week's rent just for letting a guy put
his penis in me."
"We call it a cock, Nancy, and he won't just put it in, and you won't just
lay there like a fucking blowup doll. He's paying for a fuck from a live
pussy that fucks back. That's what your training will teach you. I'll teach
you how to milk sperm from a cock using your cunt muscles."
My words were getting to her. She still held her crotch band aside and her
index finger lazily stirred through her slit. From years of direct sales, I
knew to take an assumptive attitude with her. I said, "Here, let me show
you."
I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her down so that she lay flat on her
back. This startled her, but I gave her no chance to protest. I flipped back
her skirt, then took her panties by the waist band, telling her to lift up.
She lifted and I moved her panties down and up her thighs. She raised her
legs and brought them together so I could remove her panties. I then laid
her legs out wide and brought my hand to her pussy.
The girl was panting with a full flush as I inserted my two middle fingers.
She moaned as I went as deep as I could. I let her adjust, then said, "Now
squeeze my fingers. Make like you have to pee real bad. Strain, girl. That's
it, squeeze. Those are the muscles we need to train. When I get through with
you, you will be able to suck sperm out of a motionless cock without moving
your hips."
She lay there with a look of bliss, squeezing on my fingers while I gently
moved them in and out. I never saw such a sexy sight. This girl was so
turned on, so fresh and pure, so flawless. Her pussy melted on my fingers as
she rolled in a sensuous grind, moaning with her eyes crossed, biting her
lower lip. I reached my free hand to the top button of her blouse and said,
"Let's see what you have to offer in the tit department."
She watched me unbutton her blouse, unhook the center clasp, and fold back
the cups. She arched her breasts into my exploring hands. I pinched her
nipples and fondled her ample tit flesh while she rolled, lifting one then
the other. I said, "Nice, fuckable titties, Nancy. Good nipples too, tight,
chewable. Guys will love biting these babies. Press your tits together.
Let's see what kind of pussy you can make of them."
She pressed her mounds in hard from each side, bringing the nipples
together. I said, "Excellent. They'll fuck nicely. Can you suck your
nipples?"
She strained to reach them with her outstretched tongue, but the firm flesh
wouldn't permit the touch. She collapsed her head back, saying, "I can't."
"That's too bad. Perhaps we can stretch them. Okay, let me see your hip
action. Fuck yourself on my fingers."
She planted her feet on the mattress and heaved up in short finger-gobbling
humps. I said, "Put a rolling grind in it. That's it, gentle, not too much.
Lift, drop, rock, and roll, that's the name of the game. Keep your ass off
the mattress. Do all the work. Use those vaginal muscles, squeeze, always
squeeze on the draw out. Think of your cunt as a milking machine--a cock
milking machine."
The kid was going out of her mind, moaning, "Uhhhh! Ohhhh! Yessssss!
Fuckkkkkk!"
I let her grind out a good cum, then drew my fingers out of her soupy pussy.
I stood looking down on her as her eyes slowly opened. I said, "I guess
you'll do. It'll take some time to get you ready for your cherry fuck. I
can't do it before the next rent is due, but we can try for the one after
that. I'll need help. You'll work out all day and night. All of your free
time will be spent in training. I can get my girls to help."
I went on in this assumptive way, giving her no opportunity to stop me. She
listened attentively. I went on, "Of course, you'll need to be ready at all
times. Clothes only get in the way. You'll remain nude while in the house.
That should be no problem. No one visits me that can't see a naked girl
working out."
With no sign of protest from her, and seeing she still had that warm glow,
still laid with her legs wide apart and her tits out. I began casually
taking off my clothes while saying, "Of course, we will need free and easy
access to your cunt. You will learn to keep your legs apart while sitting
our standing."
She watched closely while I stripped, saying, "What will you do to my
pussy?"
"We'll put training devices in you to condition your pussy and asshole to
accept foreign objects naturally, you know: hot dogs, candles, pop sickles,
cucumbers, carrots, dildoes, fingers."
"You mean you guys will just walk up and stick things in me?"
"Yes, and you'll learn to accept them without blinking an eye. We will
direct you in exercises to tone your internal muscles, and we'll fuck you
with those things and others. Sam may come to you in your sleep and start
fucking you with a dildoe. Susan might climb under the table and slip a hot
dog up your ass. I might finger you while you're reading a book or doing
homework. Do you have a problem with any of that?"
As I figured, she shook her head in a bit of a daze. By this time, I stood
nude before her. Nancy's eyes wandered my body. To seal the deal, I said,
"You'll need to watch me fuck. I'll bring you in on my screwing. I want you
to get right in there where the action is. Make a pest of yourself. You
can't get too close. If your face doesn't get wet, you weren't close
enough."
"You mean while the guy is fucking you?"
"When else? You might want to do the guy a favor and give his cock and balls
some tongue action. No guy will object to your head being in the way if
you're licking his cock and balls, and that will justify your being there."
"You want me to lick the man while he's fucking you?"
"Yes, what's you're problem?"
"Well...Nothing, I guess. It just sounds so nasty."
"This is a nasty business, Nancy. Sex is nasty if it's done right. Now, it
is customary for a novice to reward her trainer with her tongue. Since you
will have three trainers, you'd better learn how to tongue a pussy. Have you
ever sucked a cunt, Nancy?"
"No, never."
I climbed onto the bed and threw my leg over her head before she could
object. I was straddling her head with my knees at her shoulders, holding
myself up with my hands on her hips. I looked back and said, "You should
know where everything is and what feels good. Probe the hole and suck the
clit. That's about it. Here, you do what I do."
With that, I bent to her pussy and laid my upper body on her belly. Grasping
her by the ass, I pressed my mouth to her beaver. Shortly, I felt her hands
grasp my hips and pull as her face came into full contact with my pussy. I
licked; she licked. I stuck my tongue up her hole; she stuck her tongue up
my hole. In this way, I gave great head and got great head. When I had
enough, and rolled off, she followed and kept sucking and licking. She got
down between my legs and devoured my cunt. I laid there and let her get her
fill.
She lovingly lapped my twat. I knew I had her. She was hooked. The girl was
so horny and so naive, my mind worked overtime devising creative ways of
exploiting her for our pleasure. I was in no hurry to put her on the block,
though I knew I had a little gold mine. While she licked me, I invented new
rules for her that she nodded acceptance to while munching my pussy.
I said, "Your ass belongs to me unless you want to move out on your own,
understand? From now on, you use the whore's bathroom, upstairs. My
daughters are senior whores, you serve them as well as me until you pass
your apprenticeship. You'll do house work, and you'll serve our sexual
needs. You will cook our meals and clean up afterward. You will attend our
bathing, do our hair and makeup, and clean our cunts after a fuck." She
nodded vigorously.
The girls came home from school to find Nancy, naked, scrubbing the kitchen
floor with a cucumber stuffed up her ass and a foot long Polish sausage
hanging half out of her twat. Nancy had her ass to us and was scrubbing away
with her shoulders low. They just stood there and stared with their mouths
open. I took them both into the bedroom and explained everything. Sam was
beside herself with excitement. Susan was awed by what I told her. Nancy was
her hero, her role model. She could not believe Nancy would stoop to such
degrading things. I told Susan to strip.
She stripped and I led her to the kitchen. I brought her to stand in front
of Nancy, then said, "Nancy, show your trainers what I taught you."
Nancy took Susan by the hips and buried her face in Susan's cunt. My
daughter's eyes went wide and her feet moved out. Soon, she was humping her
cunt on Nancy's tongue with a big smile on her face. Sam was on her knees at
Nancy's ass, playing with the stuffing, putting a wiggle in Nancy's ass. I
stood back and watched, pleased with my day's work.
We could not have asked for a more willing and obedient student. She balked
at nothing. She accepted every humiliation we could heap on her. Some were
so outrageously designed for the sole purpose of degrading her and
humiliating her, she would have had to be a total idiot not to see that.
Nancy was no idiot. What drove her only Nancy knows.
She readily welcomed anything we could shove up her ass or cunt and wore it
until we took it out. I broke her cherry that first day when I shoved the
Polish sausage up her twat. I simply told her that her hymen meant nothing
and men couldn't tell the difference. She accepted that. She also took
unusual objects: Barbie dolls, shampoo bottles, soap bars, ice cubes, boiled
eggs, billiard balls, a roll of quarters, both ends of a baseball bat, a
live garter snake stuffed fully inside her pussy, and all kinds of food
stuff. Whatever we brought to her, she spread to receive.
She was also kept on display where anyone could see her. People came and
went, but Nancy could not hide. All my lovers got to see her and know her in
action. I preferred to fuck doggie style while over her with her head in my
crotch. There, she licked us both and the fuck dripped in her face. After a
fuck, she ate my cunt. She also accompanied Sam and Susan on their fucks,
serving them likewise. Susan took her along on her rent collections with
Nancy wearing nothing but high heels. She even had a shaved pussy, thanks to
Sam.
Roy set up a training device using the dining table. He fashioned dildoes
with flat wooden handles that fit between the leaves. Closing the table on
these left the dildoe mounted sticking up in the table's center. We made
Nancy straddle these devices and do squats on them with her hands behind her
neck. She had to settle until her cunt lips touched the table's surface. We
even used pop sickles as dildoes, making her fuck herself until she was
squatting on a stick with a freezing, syrupy twat. Often, while we ate the
dinner she had prepared, Nancy did squats on a dildoe set in the middle of
the table.
We stretched her tits by using the table opened in the middle by six inches.
She'd lie face down on the table with her tits dangling through the open
space. We'd put clamps on her nipples and hang weights from them. This was
terribly painful for her, but she took it stoically. The more weight we
placed on her, the harder we had to set the clamps. She got to where we
could hang one-gallon milk jugs filled with dirt from her nipples clamped
flat, and we'd leave her like that for hours. As a result, her tits got
stretched, elongated, and her nipples became three inches long. After two
weeks, she could suck her nipples without bending her head, and her tits
hung two inches above her navel when she stood erect.
We did the same thing to her clit, making her do the splits over the gap in
the table. We used the same clamps and same weights with the same results.
After two weeks, she had a clit that was three inches long. It stuck out
from between her bald pussy lips like a little boy's cock.
Everyone I knew intimately knew Nancy was for sale. Her cherry was on the
auction block. Guys would stop by and examine her. The bidding, which Nancy
was not aware of, got up to three hundred dollars. She went to a local
attorney. She got a free week's rent out of it. After that, we put her ass
on the block for twenty bucks a pop. I got fifteen; she earned five toward
the next week's rent. In her month of apprenticeship, that little whore
earned me two-thousand dollars. She got to live rent free and earned herself
two hundred besides.
Nancy introduced me to two of her college girl friends. I managed to move my
second floor men out and set them up there. We trained them as we had Nancy.
The money rolled in. I got rid of the men on the third floor, remodeled the
entire house, and got three more coeds to move in and go into training. I
had a real whore house. Mom just never saw the potential of the place, or
didn't have my business savvy. I am one rich lady today, but the townsfolk
call me Madam.
The End
Read other stories by the same author by visiting Phantom Base at
HTTP://PhilPhantom.Com
CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex
practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open
sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex,
body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy
and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before
you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can
all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to
other minors. PP