Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 "Val" {Mff...G NS}
   "Are you models?" I was just cutting through for an iced tea before
meeting my poppa at the parking deck, but I stopped.  They giggled, and
shook heir heads.  "Well," He leaned over, their table.  "you're certainly
beautiful enough With his arm up, like Gaston {Beauty and the Beast.} "If
you think you'd be interested," He flipped a card out, like a card-trick,
"Why don't you give me a call?"
   They held it together, talking and giggling while he walked off, looking
back...
   "I am," he looked down, almost ran into me.
   "What?"
   "A model?" I looked back at the studio, across the food court.  "I just
finished class, but I don't have an agent, yet." He got out a gold plated
case, and another card.
   [...  Artist, Author.
Cell: (###) ###-####]
   I tuck it in my training bra, strike my best playboy pose.  "You busy?"
   He pulls his cufflink over his expensive watch.  "I have some time."
   So, I did my best runway walk, out the doors.  "Where're you parked?"
The wrong ones, I heard about him.  One of my friends, but he just bought
her clothes, took pictures, and sketched her out.  Well, not just clothes,
underwear.
   I was so excited, I almost dropped the Pager.  Popping out the battery,
to but in a drained one.  NiMH, AAAs, but they don' recharge forever.  So,
I saved a dead one, rolled the good one under a car.  Pretended to tie my
shoelaces, while Poppas jeep pulled around, looking for me...  Then he
turned the corner.
   I didn't have to translate the last alphanumeric message: [#Wher-eRU /#]
   "Over here," his car blinked, and chirped.  BMW, car alarm, luxury
sedan, and a carphone between the seats.  This was a while ago, I'd never
seen one before IRL.  Poppa was probably driving himself insane with worry
by now, imagining all sorts of horrors.  The Sheriffs call, after pulling
me out of a ditch, raped.  I giggled.  "What?"
   "Oh nothing," shrug, "I haven't seen you at, [Agency Name] Studios." I
actually went there for dance classes.  I guess poppa figures we can't get
in any trouble, if we don't have the time.
   "Well," he lied, "I work weekends.  But I'm always on the lookout for
fresh faces, and new talent
   "What kind of artist?"
   "Photography, painting.  I also write short fiction, but I'm working on
a novel."
   I bet!  Dilettante', everything about him said Trustee, money, boredom,
and he likes to exploit young girls.  "Nudes, erotica?"
   "How old are you?" he frowned.  Probably virgins.
   "Eleven." True, but he wouldn't like me if I was too old, mature.  Wary,
he suburban tween, confident, but gullible.
   "Really?" Fake shock, "But you look so much older!  Obviously so much
more mature than other girls your age." Like the high-schoolers, back at
the mall.  Verbatim, practiced, word for word what he told my friend.
   "Well," I brushed my hair back, "I did skip a couple grades." Also true,
already in Jr.  high.  "My poppa just makes me dress so modest, to try and
keep me off the pole."
   "The pole?" He shook his head.
   "The stripper pole?" I laughed, "My mom used to dance, but she stopped,
when we had kids." I lied, too.
   He smiled, "Really?" Didn't have to fake interest.
   "Where's your studio?" Across the street, but he had to navigate the
garage, and the parking lot, then pull around the massive building of the
mall itself.  Convenient, to cruise for fresh talent.  Young faces, and
bodies, his type probably doesn't stay barely budding very long.  Tucked
behind some storefronts, no sign or anything, just a steel door, and
another that rolled up like a garage.  He unlocked it, and walked around
turning on the lights.
   "You ever seen Titanic?" Rated R.  For nudity, I nodded.
   They all pointed at a bentwood chaise draped with patterned velvet. 
Like curtains, maybe even pulled them down off of windows somewhere, but
just cut off straight at the edges, and frayed a little.
   "I have to set-up," he pointed at a door, "If you want to pick something
out in the dressing room."
   More like a wardrobe, or the Wardobe Dept.  at our Acting classes. 
Everything but Modeling, really.  I even tried Soccer, but too much
running. I looked for hidden cameras, or peepholes while I unbutton my
sweater, and blouse.  Trying not to look like I was looking, out of the
corner of my eye, but I didn't see any.
   I held up the shortest dress over my underwear, and stood in the open
door.  "How about this?" I switched to another, "Or this one?" Flashing my
underwear between them.
   "Which one do you like?" I shrugged, held up the first one, and turned
back.  Made sure to sway my hips, in my plain blue underpants.  I found
some shoes, heels.  Never tried them before, but they made my legs look
great under the hem of he dress.  A little tight too, I'm tall, for my age,
but I'm 11.  Shouldn't even be in middle-school, which made me wonder hat
they make sexy clothes like this, so small.  Flat front, so I took my
training bra off, and my nipples poked out the tight fabric.
   I swayed on the heels coming out.  "How do I look?" I twirled, so the
hem swirled up over my legs, and the bottom of the underpants.  "You mind
if I turn the AC up?" He started without me, sketching furiously, and
didn't even look up.
   "Mh hm?" He nodded, sketched another line.  I didn't know they made FM
pumps in my size either.  For `Fuck Me," I sure was feeling it, tried not
to pant, or fall down stepping over the cables for all the lights on my way
back to the lounge.  The lights were still hot, with the air blowing, and
the thermostat turned all the way down, but I didn't think my nipples could
get any harder.  "Just lie down, make yourself comfortable."
   The velvet was hot already, but I let the hem slip up my hip, over the
side of my underpants, and pretended not to notice.  "There," he pinched,
and kneeded the erasor in his fingetips, but kept sketching.  With his leg
crossed, and the skechpad over his lap.  So, I couldn't see anything, under
the expensive belt, and fine linen of his trousers.
   "Huh!" So hot, and it was hard not to fidget with my heart pumping so
hard, and fast in my chest.  but goosebumps popped out on my exposed
shoulders, down my thigh like my nipples which were so hard they ached.
   ...  A little later: "You mind if I take some reference photos?" I got
up.
   "Nude, or clothed?" I looked up at him, bit my lp so he looked down from
my eyes.  his looked, I don't know, puzzled?
   "Would you be comfortable nude?"
   "Well," I just pulled it over my head, "You said reference photos," my
hair flopped down on my chest like whips.  "So, you can see better without
the dress in the way?" I flipped it back, over my shoulder.  Ran my thumbs
back, and forth in the waistband.  "You mind if I keep these on?" To pull
them up, when I really wanted to stick my fingers in there, and unzip his
expensive linen trousers.
   "That's fine," his camera buzzed, snapping rapid fire as he walked
around, and I was still amazingly hot, in a pair of panties and pumps.  My
goosebumps didn't go away, and I shivered for no reason at all.
   "There," his trousers looked tight, and I covered myself.  I'm not sure
why, he'd already taken his nasty pictures, but I couldn't run back to the
dressing room in those heels.  All I could think about was her crying, and
wondering what was so bad about that?
   I closed he door this time.  It felt cool in there, but I took those
shoes off, and rubbed under the straps first.  "Huh!" Then I thought about
what I was doing?  "Uh!" I gave him a good long while, to jerk off. 
Thought about what my poppa would think, and that made me feel better.
   He knocked, so I opened the door.  "Ready?" I nodded.  "Um," he walked
me out to his car.  "What's your name?"
   Monica {F Solo, Exhi, Sabo MC.}
   I couldn't sleep.  Usually, rubbing one out in my underwear does it, but
I was too exited.  Thinking about him, looking at the pictures, and jerking
off.  Showing it to his friends, like my brothers looking at the underwear
catalogs together.  Poppa seeing them.
   So, I got up, opened the window, and got some cool fresh air.  And an
idea, out of boredom I went out across the Garage in my slippers, and
dropped down to let myself in the side door.  The light was on, or all the
outside ones, but I had a key stashed.  Put on gloves, to avoid any
telltail grease under my nails, or chipping them.  Read the Chilton's by
the light through the window in the door.
   Got the spare key out of the magnet box under the wheel well.  He runs
the motor-pool, on base.  He's an officer, but still keeps the Cherokee in
perfect condition.  Which is why the constant breakdowns drive him nuts. 
Of course, he suspects Sabotage, but not me, his 'Good Girl.' Probably one
of my brothers, but their window was dark, so nobody saw me out on the
roof.
   Not my fault dance class ran long, and my pager died, so by the time I
called the agreedapon payphone, he was already frantically searching the
parking deck, then talking to Security.  Again, of course they won't show
him the cameras, run them back, not the first time one of us has gone
"Missing, then turned up later, safe and sound.  A loose sparkplug should
give me a few minutes, while he goes over everything, to "Sleep in." Or go
set up my studio, now that I have someone to show it.
   I closed the hood quietly, and had the Chiltons back in it's place, but
he came-out anyway.  Turned on the light, so it shone out the window, so I
snuck around the corner, lifted the boards in the fence, and slipped back
into the neighbor's yard.  Just in case he came outside, and for some
reason this house never gets sold, neither!  I suppressed a snicker, and
got the other key from it's hiding place...
   Discipline {Throbbing Gristle}
   I turned it up, ostensibly so I couldn't hear, but I got in the closet,
with a glass to hold up on the wall.  He hates it, of course, which only
makes him beat them harder.  "This!" had to hurt, "Should teach you some
DIScipline!" They cried, so I giggled.  Not that he'd even yell at me.  I'm
the good girl, I sure never get spanked.
   I never even heard of BDSM before, but most people don't know every
letter stands for 2 things.  I'm not Submissive, nor Dominant, much less a
Masochist.  {Die Form.} When they got back, the boy's room was a mess.  As
if they didn't get ready for Pee-wee fast enough to clean up, even with an
extra 15 minutes while poppa found the right wire.  And probably checked
the rest of the truck.
   "Ah!" My other brother was just crying.  Then momma limped in, so I hid
the glass, and remembered my other brother.  So, I could cry, and pretend
to be traumatized.  Why I don't mess with the brakes any more, and she quit
dancing.  Not that she was ever a stripper, she watched Fame, not
Flashdance.  Recorded the reruns on the VCR.  Bought the movie, and still
watched them, reliving her childhood dreams.  I just had to learn to make
my chuckles sound like sobs, she couldn't see my smile in her shoulder.
   "Rich" {MG NS Sade.  At this point, that's more for Shadenfreude than
true Sadism, but we get a glimpse at what she really is.}
   Of course, I'm not going to use real names, but that's what he is. 
Never bought me anything, but it's not like I could hide it forever. 
Immodest clothing.  I had to tell poppa my friends wanted o hang out, the
new one at my dance class, I had to make up to explain him giving me a
ride. He warned me about giving out my Pager#, again.
   "Yeah," I nodded for him, "I guess I can get away from the old man." He
frowned.  "There gonna be a chaperone?  Good, have him pick me up, so he
knows I'll be safe."
   "Hey," I got in, "We don't have long, so did you bring your stuff?" He
had his pencils, and stuff in this leathery case, "What about your camera?"
I wasn't planning on him being able to draw.  He shook his head, so I just
felt the pebbly case next to the seat, with my leg.  "Turn left." Again,
and again.  "Right here," I pointed across his seat at the driveway, and he
pulled in.  He looked up, at my roof on the other side of the yard.
   "Isn't this," the yard directly behind our's?
   "Yeah," I got out, "Try to act like a Realtor." Carried his, notebook,
thing.  Like a Trapper-keeper, for artists, and Dilettantes.  "Thought you
worked weekends?"
   "My appointment canceled." Right, "So I'll go in this afternoon." I told
him the code, so he could open the lock-box.  This one has a separate
garage, and fresh coat of paint over where I wrote Fuck You, and Helter
Skelter over the walls.  They put the couch over the burn spot too, but I
bet the price kept going up with all the damage from vandals, and in this
market?
   "Come on," I led him out back, "Let me show you my studio." They never
hanged this lock, just showed the garage, they didn't really go in, and
look around much.  "What do you think?"
   He gasped, looking up, and covered his mouth.  "What is this?"
   "Well, dungeon.  I never shewed it to nobody before, so as another
Artist, I'd really like your honest opinion."
   "You're," I drank in his fear, "Sick!"
   "Well, yeah.  Why I thought of you.  Come on, you know what I'm talking
about, your dirty little pictures, and I read part of one of your stories?"
   He backed out, "How?"
   "You didn't hide them?  So, I just picked up some notes lying around
your studio.  Well, the dressing room, while you're jerking off?" He ran,
so I just closed my eyes, and sighed.  Then, I locked up, and walked around
the block before poppa paged me.
   Of course, he called back, or paged me.  His cell number, but he has to
take it out in it's satchel to charge it up.  It was years before they
adapted them to the lighter socket, though I'm not sure the big clunky
first generation ones would've worked.
   "Hello?"
   "Couldn't stop thinking about it, huh?"
   "No, I." he stopped, took a breath, "You weren't thinking bout, going to
the police, were you?"
   I laughed, "Well, they'd be interested, I'magine, but no.  I don't want
them to lock you up."
   "You mean;"
   "You know what I mean."
   "Where did you even get that," come on, mister Intellectual, Impress me
with your big word, "Apparatus?"
   "Well," I giggled, "The winch was already there, I just added the
shackles from an old chainlink fence." And a wing-nut.
   "Well, don't you think it looks a little," He sounded scared. 
"Dangerous?"
   I giggled, "I never used it!  Besides, they're too small for your wrists
anyway."
   "Me?"
   "Well, if you'd rather meet me at your studio, after my my weekly
class."
   "Why?" Not really all that bright.
   "To return your notes?" I cleared my throat: "Ahem, [She was just so
grateful, for everything I'd done for her, that she could not help but
develop a little fondness, remembering all the time we spent together, as I
showed her how beautiful she was becoming.] Run-on much?How old is
Stephanie, anyway?  Doesn't look more than 13 in this photo.  What's the
legal age in Texas again?"
   "What do you want?"
   "Nh!" I didn't moan, "Hh, I want to, uH!  See You, Huh!  Again..."
   "Are you?" Playing with myself?
   "Yeah," not really, "You?"
   "Hang on." Fumbling.
   "I can't hear it." Gentle fapping.  "Harder!" Louder...  "But don't hurt
yourself." I had to put the phone down, "Save that for me." So, I hung up.
   Then, I got my hands down mypants.  Of course, he's right, I didn't make
any of that for sex.  At the time my fantasies were about Torture, and
they'd probably fit a tweenage boy's ancles better anyway.
   I'magined the Wicked Queen, what would she do if she ever caught Snow
White?  Had to have a Dungeon in that castle of hers, sure probably people
to torture for her, but while she watched...  "Uh!" Or the Huntsman, once
she found out he tricked her, lied to her.
   But now all I needed was to hear him, begging me over the phone, almost
crying, and possibly buying me he things I need to torture him.  Yeah, I
should have told him that, h's got money, and it's not like I can buy
anything likeat.  Or lingeree, where does he get it, in those sizes?
   "Huh!" I'd have to call him back, after I rub one off...
   "Rich" {M Mono Text.}
   [I guess I never really thought about it.  It's art, but now that I do,
I ralize that my models gradually became younger over the years.  Too
slowly for me to notice, to realize what i was doing, but eventually I must
have been exploiting children.  Well, not children, young adults, but I
never touched them.  My attractions are purely visual, but I must admit I
got off looking at them later.
   It never occured to me to instal cameras, or peepholes in the dressing
room, because what would the point be if I wanted to draw the in the
Studio? I suspected from the moment I met you, but when you flashed me
between outfis, I saw something spcial in your eyes.  How did you know
those were 2 of my favorite outfits?
   And you are so beutiful, that wasn'tjust a line to see you in your
underwear, I can't quite put my finger on it, nor remember it, but going
back over your reference photos, I can't see it there, either.  I saw it
best in your studio, but I was so shocked by the display, and it wasn't
justt the look in your eyes, but I mus admit I'm a little frightened at he
thought of the pain.
   Those shacles, looked like they could do some permanent damage, and I am
nothing without my hands.  Even as I admit i prbably deserve it, to break
them before the do something truly wrong, and evil.  But first, I have to
see you, capture that unique spark in your eyes, tha feirce intensity
I'donly seen models feign in photos.  I feel it's what I've been searching
for my whole life, career.
   Please, I will do anything.  I mean it, turn me in to the police, break
my hands, torture me to death, but just let me see you again, and try to
capture that look in your eys one last time before you drive me insane! 
Afer that, I'll acept my fate.
   Truly Yours; Signed]
   "Hey," did it even finish ringing once?
   "Can I see you?"
   "No."
   "Please!"
   "I can't get away, you know my pop;"
   "Not really, I mean I met him, once, but I can't really see what you
mean about being such a control freak."
   "Well," huh!  "I guess you'd have to live with him," or be his daughter,
"Being the only girl in his house is like being an only child." I have
friends who are.  "Even the boys don't want o play with me any more,
because I'm a girl." Made a face.
   "You wouldn't believe how many people in my circle turned out to be into
that lifestyle."
   "Which one?"
   "Bondage, S&M." I gigled.
   "You trying to turn me on again?"
   "No, but I got a book."
   "Huh!" Okay, "But what about some decent bonds?"
   "Well, they don't really have stores for that sort of thing." Round
here? You don't say!  "I ordered some things, but most of it is Custom, so
it could take a while."
   "Leather?"
   "The medical restraints," I'magine he nodded.
   "Uh!"
   "You wouldn't imagine how horny just thinking about this is making me."
   "Are you jerking off?"
   "Are you?"
   .  .  .  I listened, "Well, Stop It!"
   "Uh?"
   "You've done more than enough of that, looking at your dirty little
pictures, so for now, you're cut off, you hear me?"
   "I can't,"
   "Not until you find me some good bonds, so I can do it to you.  You have
no dick, it's Mine now.  Understand?  you can wash it, and take a piss, but
if you shake it more than twice, you're playing with it."
   "Please,"
   "And I don't know where you ge little girl's lingeree, but find me
something," I had to think about it, "Go here and find something hat makes
me look wicked."
   "I don't know your size."
   "You know that dress I wore for you?" get hard again, "Yah, you remeber
how tight it was, over my litl brasts, and thighs in those pumps?  Well,
that's my size." Oh, and I rmemebered, "And lose my number, Pop's getting
suspicious whenever my pager rings, so I'll call you."
   "And I can't,"
   "I swear to fucking god, if you jerk off again before this thursday, you
will nevr get hard again.  You're cut off."
   Click.
   Well, I never told him I wouldn't play with myself...  "Huh!" Good,
nobody looking, because that was awesome!  It's not easy to walk with my
hands down my pants, so I just pulled them up into a wedgie real quick
before anyone noticed, and nearly fell down when my knes went out.
   "Are you okay?"
   "Fine!" I pushed her back.  Just have to get to the bathroom, and
wouldn't you know it they'r clear around the lunchroom from the payphones.
I almost lost the mood before I get in the stall, and lock the door, but
all I had to think of was, "You're cut off."
   It wasn't their eyes on me, or pop being pissed, if I skipped, but "Uh!"
I was wet?  I mean literally wet, inside, so I slipped some up to the top,
and rubbed it in.  "Nh!?"
   I didn't really threaten to castrate him, but ever since that Lorena
Bobbit story came out in he news, even before I found somebody to try it
on, "Huh huh!" and my fingers can't move fast enough, but I wonder if he
smokes cigars, and has one of those guillotine cutters.  Only gold plated,
and shiny to match his card case, an maybe just the tip?
   "Nguh!" Yeah, I wonder if it'd still get hard like that?  I never, felt
one.  Caught the boys jerking off, a few times, but I'v only heard him
crying, and panting over the phone.  I haven't heard his screams. 
"Huhuhuhuh!"
   Flush, and go out to wash my hands.
   I forgot to tell him a skirt.  Poppa won't buy me them, and it's just so
hard to get off in pants!  The way it felt, brushing my underwear, and the
lacey hem on the tops of my thighs so I felt half naked, and the way it
twirled up when i spun for him in those heels, and my nipples poking
through the tight silky fabric cupped around my chest instead of flattening
them like a training bra.
   The bell rang, but I can skip one more class.  So, I locked myself back
in th stall, until I fell off the toilet, shivering, and panting on the
filthy floor.  I can't wait any more, but at least I know he's waiting too.
Waiting for something to bind him with, leather medical restraints, he
said. "YeahHhuhuhuh!" Wash my hands again, and look in the mirror.  I
looked sick, for all they knew, i threw up, evr since lunch...
   "Hello?"
   "Can you come get me?  Dad's got the jeep on base, and mom doesn't drive
any more anyway."
   "Where?"
   "At school?  The middle school, um, let me get the adress."...  All over
the office.  "Hurry, I think I'm going to throw up again." Or play with
myself in the office lavatory until he pages me...
   "Nice belt," I tied my hair back.  {Perry Ellis.} I was so relievd to
see him, I almost wanted to kiss him.  But I wasn't here to reward him, bad
enough I skipped ahead on our date.  "You been jerkin' off?"
   "No," he winced, "I can't."
   "Why not?"
   "Every time I get hard, i think of you;"
   I hit him, "And that makes it got down?"
   He rubbed it, "No," his arm, I mean, "II think of you, cutting it. 
Off."
   I almost got off again.  "Mhm?" Felt, dreamy?
   "I can't get the image out of my head!"
   "Huh!" I just closed my eyes, and felt the headrest on my cheek.  Rubbed
it against the fine leather.  I didn't, I mean I felt moist between my lgs,
but all I could think of was it Worked!  I just had to say `You're cut
off,' twice I think, o plant the seed, and now he thinks it whenever h gets
hard.
   "Are you okay?" I opened my eyes.
   "No," I grinned, "I'm sick!" Said it himself.
   "You wouldn't," he looked away, "You wouldn't really?"
   "Cut it off?" I laughed, "Don't make me have to."
   But he was hard, and we're almost to th Mall.  There was the sign!  He
signaled and moved over to the exit lane.
   Rich {GM Tort.  I mean it, this isn't Sadomasochism, Pain Play, nor
Erotic Domination.  It's Torture, sadistic sexual abuse, and punishment. 
It should also illustrate what I mean when I say "Never trust a Dom who
never subbed" and "There's no such thing as a Natural Dom." Because that's
called a Sadist.  In this case, Anger-Exitation.
   Why I chose the example of an 11yo girl, because if you don't know what
you're doing, you'll probably do something stupid.  Like escalate from a 5
swat bare handed spanking to caning her bound standing in her second scene,
or insisting "I am a Dominant." ~C.  Grey.  You aren't, either you're a
lover who understands it's all about her fantasy, or you're an Abuser with
delusions of grandure.
   So, don't try any of this at home.}
   "Sit down," she stretched out on the chaisein her school clothes. 
Pants, sweater vest, button up blouse, andkicked off her shoes.  "Okay, now
jerk off."
   "What?"
   "You heard me, get it out, I wanna see it!  What, you don't have a
problem talking little girls out of our clothes, but now you're shy?  Are
you ashamed of it?" No, but I admit this was a bit humiliating.  "Is that
why you never touched us, fucked us, Raped us, because you can't get it
up?"
   "No," I tore open my pants, "See!?"
   "I'm imprssed," she rolled her eyes.  "My little brother could get it up
in his diaper, you think that makes you a Man?" Uh!  My hands were shaking,
and I wascrying, "That's right, jerk it.  You sick fuck, you remeber
Britney?" Who?  "Britney Connor, she was about 14 when she told me, how do
you think I found you?  You think she enjoyed it, it made her feel pretty?
That's not what she said when she told me, crying about it.  You don't make
us feel pretty, you mak us feel Dirty!"
   I never really did it without some lotion, or someother kind of lube
befor, but she was right, i exposed them, all those girls so i could jerk
off in private because i was ashamed.  Why does it feelso small?
   "You smoke?" Right in my face, I glanced back at the chaise, but she'd
undone her sweatervest.  "Up here," something cold under my chin, "I asked,
Do, You, Smoke?  Cigars, I know they're expensive, but;" she didn't give me
a chance to answer, "But my uncledoes, and he's not nearly as rich as you.
That's where I got this," I looked away.  "Look like they forgot to
circumcise you, but you're getting hard again.  Maybe just a little trim, a
little off the top?"
   I made this, mechanical, shearing sound.  Sharp metal edges against
echother, and I think there's a spring in ther.  Right in my ear?  My eyes
flewopen, and I looked down, but it was just my buckle, brushing against it
as she pulled my belt out.  "Arms behind you." Like aboyscout belt, it
slips through th buckle, so a roller can lock against it when it pulls out.
But she wrapped it around a few times.
   "Sit tight," she went back into the drssing room, "I'm gonna change into
something a little more comfortable." Snip!  The cigar cutter sheared
between her fingers, then she was gone.  So, i let out the breath i didn't
realize i was holding.
   "HuhhhhhhHhuhuhuh!"
   .
   .
   .
   {Sorry, this is a WiP I don't have quite enough time to finish ATM. 
Also, an origen story, so read what happens to Her next in \Parent
Directory/Torture/Stealing Valor.}
  
Origen