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Sex Offender Cured! (partly)
thanks to holy joe!
Dear holy joe,
They say that your stories are a detriment to our community.
However, I disagree. They are a benefit. Take myself, for instance. I used
to sexually assault and molest five children a day (which, incidentally,
works out to 1,825 attacks per year). Now thanks to masturbating over
your stories, I have got my molesting down to two children per day. Keep
up the good work!
holy joe replies,
Your success is doubled. I can�t molest anybody while I�m busy
writing this shit.
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
Night Games
Chapter Seven
Cindy stood in the kitchen. She had a piece of bread in her hands,
smeared with butter and jam. The little mouse was on the T.V. The big
bear was chasing him. Suddenly the little mouse went behind a tree. The
bear rushed up to the tree, and stopped. There was nothing there, except
the tree. Where had the little mouse gone?
A board popped out from behind the tree. As if from Aladdin�s cave, it
hovered magically. The bear crept closer, amazed that the board could
float magically in the air.
Suddenly out from behind the tree darted his prey, holding up, with
quite strenuous effort, the big board. Before the bear could realize what
was happening the little mouse had bonked him right in the face with the
board.
Cindy laughed.
�Hold still, darling,� her mother told her. She was kneeling before the
girl and adjusting something around her waist. The object of her motherly
attention was not, however, a new skirt for school or the hem of a blouse.
It was a tiny pair of panties. A small swatch of silk, smaller than
anything Cindy had worn previously, just managed to cover the girl�s light
fringe of pubic hair. If, that is, her mother took the time to adjust the
swatch, after the girl had put her panties on. And this is indeed what
Sasha did now, positioning the triangle of silk so that all Cindy�s little
hairs in her pubis were covered. When Sasha was satisfied that Cindy�s
fur mount was veiled, she prised open the front of the girl�s panties and
put her finger in her mouth.
�A little wetness to get you started, dear,� Sasha said to her
daughter. She did not touch the little girl�s crotch (she was, after all, her
mother). Instead she put her wet finger down inside the girl�s panties, on
the part of her little silk V that covered her pussy lips. When she let go of
Cindy�s panties, they snapped up against her flat belly, pressing the wet
spot her mother�s finger had made against her snatch.
�Huh?� Cindy felt the wetness. Still holding her bread, which was
half-eaten now, she looked down. She bent forward so that her vision
could clear the jut of her breasts. She looked at the panties around her
waist, that her mother had laid out for her and told her to put on. She
reached down with one hand and yanked the front of her panties down and
away from herself. Exposing her bush, she tried to see what her mother
had done to her panties.
�NO! Don�t! You�ll rip them. They were very expensive! I can�t afford
to replace them,� Cindy�s mother said.
�But they don�t fit me!� Cindy cried. She gazed at the panties, which
struck her as awkwardly impractical. The part of the panties going around
Cindy�s waist was so narrow as to be thread-like. Indeed, it had begun in
the clothier�s work shop as a single strand of silk, strengthened by having
additional strands not joined to it, in parallel, but rather wrapped around
it, to give it strength without width. The back of the panties was even
more abbreviated than the front, causing the girl, when she had first
struggled into them, to put the panties on backwards. Instead of a proper
seat in back, there was only a long delicate triangle of silk, about half the
width of the miniscule one in front. It pressed against the declivity of
Cindy�s bottom crack, trying to hide her tight little rear line from prying
eyes. Unfortunately as soon as the girl took two steps the silk panty rear
got caught up in the very thing it was supposed to protect. So Cindy, to
the extent she wanted to bother, would have to put her hands back behind
herself and pull it out, only to soon lose it again. The little mouse was
proving much more interesting than whether her bottom was showing, and
so the girl�s mother was the one who, as the girl ate her bread and jam,
had retrieved it from within her ass.
�They aren�t supposed to fit you, darling. They�re designed to tease,�
her mother answered. �They are your first truly teensy bikini.� Indeed
they were smaller than anything the girl had worn previously, and in her
mind they should simply be taken off and returned to the spools of silk
from which they had come.
Cindy�s mother lifted her hands from her daughter�s crotch. She
admired the young child�s curves. She was so gently and delicately sweet,
looking like a new flower that had just appeared their small backyard
garden. Indeed the girl was turning out much better than the garden Sasha
had tried to start. The daisies looked sick and the roses had never come
up. But little Cindy was sprouting nicely, and this looked to be the night
she would become a woman. Sasha wiped a tear from her right eye. The
girl was perfect. It seemed sad to ruin such perfection, to spear her up
between her legs, shattering her little hymen. But she was not, in fact,
some art object to be admired. She was a girl, and a curious one at that.
If her mother did not intervene, she would lose her hymen the way most
girls did, quickly, urgently, and with no regard for her feelings.
�Brent will probably rip your panties off you, darling,� Cindy�s mother
said to her, but the girl was distracted by the T.V. She was perhaps a
little jaded now, after going to two parties. This was just another one,
where she would parade about and delight the men and do whatever she
pleased, until, that is, the moment came when something would be done to
her, but she felt ready for it. She liked seeing the men�s big penises and
she was learning to cope with what they needed, what they urgently had to
do to her before the party�s end, after she had done all she could to stoke
their manly flames. �I think you are going to lose your virginity, tonight,�
Sasha explained to her daughter. She realized the girl was not listening.
She reached up and gently took hold of her daughter�s face. She turned the
girl�s head away from the T.V., where the little mouse was poking the bear
in the behind as he ran away.
�Don�t, mommie! It�s funny!� Cindy cried.
�Listen to me! You are going to be popped tonight, Cindy. Not in your
bottom, as before, but up between your legs, in your womb. Did you take
your pill tonight?�
�Whatever,� Cindy said, giving a big sigh. She tried to prise her head
from her mother�s grasp and look at the T.V. again.
�Brent is the one who will take your virginity, I hope,� Cindy�s mother
told her. �Or perhaps it will be another man. We are to be sold as slaves,
dear. It is just pretend, of course, but they are paying me a lot of money
and I will not have to work for a year. Maybe longer.� Cindy�s ears perked
up at the mention of money and she said,
�Can I buy more stuffed animals like my teddy if we get lots of
money?�
�Of course you can, dear,� Cindy�s mother said. �But I want you to be
sure of what you�re doing tonight. They might get mad and be harder with
me if I don�t take you, but I don�t want you to go if you don�t want to.�
�I want to go, mommie!� Cindy cried. However enticing the
adventures of the little mouse might be, she was not about to allow them
to keep her from her mother�s next party. It would be dreadful, in fact, to
be stuck sitting at home, like some little baby, while her mother was out
getting up to who knows what?
�Alright, you may go, but I want you to understand that this time you
might not be lucky enough to come home a virgin,� Cindy�s mother told her.
�Oh, I don�t care about being a virgin,� Cindy said, offhandedly, gazing
at the T.V. again.
�It�s important, dear. It�s something that, once it�s taken from you,
can never be gotten back again.�
�Yes, of course. Everything�s important. Like money!� Cindy said, her
eyes brightening. �We could get a big wide-screen T.V. and I could watch
Lousy Mousy-- so big that he looks as big as Bud Bear!�
�Yes,� Cindy�s mother sighed. She was obviously not getting through
to the girl. Experience would have to be her teacher, as it was with so
many adolescent girls. She put her finger in her mouth again. She sucked
it with a sudden fervor, smiling at her daughter�s innocent wantonness.
Was she truly naughty? Or just naively curious? Her mother decided on
the latter, as she lifted her daughter�s right bra cup from her breast.
Exposing her young tit, she placed her wet finger on the point of her
daughter�s nipple, not trying to avoid the sensitive bud but explicitly
exciting it.
�Ooooh!� Cindy gasped, feeling her mother�s saliva-coated fingertip as
it tickled her little bud to a straining point. �Why are you doing that,
mommie?� Cindy asked.
�So that your nipple will stand up under your bra cup,� Cindy�s mother
said. She finished with the girl�s right breast and replaced her bra over it,
then moved to her left, where she wetted her finger again, with the same
sucking urgency, and tickled her daughter�s left nipple.
�You want them to see my titties?� Cindy asked, puzzled that her
mother would make her wear a bra, only to render it nearly useless by
making her nipples stand up. For this bra was the most fetching the girl
had ever worn, its cups so small as to barely get over her red little
nipples. They were, like her panties, made of silk, and the halter threads
which held the cups in place were as thin and thread-like as those used to
hold up her panties.
�You must be seen as ready for sex, so the men won�t feel guilty about
buying you and fucking you,� Cindy�s mother explained. �You will bring a
higher price,� Cindy�s mother said.
�Oh, I�m ready for sex, mommie,� Cindy said. �I can just tell them, if
you like. I�ll walk up to them and say, �hi, let�s fuck.� Then can I wear my
jeans and Backstreet Boys t-shirt?� Cindy asked. Sasha laughed.
�It doesn�t work that way, dear,� Sasha said. �You must be seen as
shy and coy, yet at the same time be teasing enough to leave no doubt of
your willingness.� She patted the girl�s cheek. �It�s like a costume party.
Everyone presents themselves and acquaintances are made, everyone sizes
each other up, you know, to see who you like and who you don�t, or rather,
given the circumstances, who you would most like to be done by and who
will get seconds or thirds. Really, dear, I shouldn�t have to tell you this.
You�ve been to two parties already.�
�I know, mommie. I carry a little bear and let people smack my
bottom,� Cindy said.
�Not this time, dear,� Sasha said. �We are to be sold. From an
auction block. Once the festivities begin, that is. At first I think we will
be just like everyone else, but then when things get hot that will be when
it is done. We will be separated from the rest and our hands will be tied.
We will be put up on the block and offered for sale.�
�Oh!� Cindy said, at last devoting her full attention to her mother�s
words.
�Yes,� Sasha said. She patted her daughter�s flat belly. �That�s why I
want to be sure you�ve taken your pill. I won�t be able to help you with my
hands tied, and I don�t want you to resist when they come to take me. I
want to be sold, darling. I want to experience the thrill just once in my
life of being put up for sale, like a common animal, all the men looking at
me, and the ladies too, not caring about me as a person but evaluating my
body, inspecting it, and offering bids for it.� Sasha brushed back a strand
of her blonde hair that had fallen into her eyes. �It�s silly,� she sighed,
�But I want it. While I�m still young and sexy, while I�m still at the height
of my desirability. I want it as a testament to myself.�
Cindy�s eyes wandered back to the little mouse on the T.V. She put
the last bit of bread in her mouth and chewed it.
�You don�t need to be a slave, mommie,� Cindy said.
�I know,� Sasha said. �But when I was a little girl I saw Spartacus
and I saw the slaves, and I thought to myself, �that would be a great
fantasy, to be a beautiful kidnapped slave and sold-- sold by pirates, at
auction, all the wealthy men and women gazing at me, and wanting me!�
�Yes,� Cindy said, feeling a little of her mother�s passion now. �Is it
okay if I moon the people while I�m up on the auction block?� Cindy asked
her mother.
�You must not, dear,� Sasha said. She straightened her daughter�s bra
again, though it was perfectly placed over her daughter�s nipples. �Don�t
be silly. Don�t be a child. That�s why I�d rather you stayed home. I wish
you�d never learned about my parties!�
�Oh no, mommie! Please don�t make me stay home!� Cindy pleaded.
�Well be good, then,� Sasha said.
�I will,� Cindy promised.
A crescent moon hung poised in a black velvet sky. It had about two
hours to set, hovering over the ocean darkness out beyond the glare of the
freeway. Would her daughter still be a virgin by the time the moon dipped
into the Pacific? Sasha wondered, as the limo sent for herself and her
daughter escorted them to the party. She had no idea who had sent the
limo, only that someone had left a message, two days before the party,
saying that it would come, and that she and her daughter should get inside,
and that she should not turn it away. Beside her, as the handsome young
driver took them to their destination, her daughter sat chewing gum and
playing a video game that someone had left in the limo. As a present,
obviously, to keep the girl occupied until the car arrived. It was a nice
touch. The same person had left a bouquet of roses, which Sasha now
clutched in her hands. Would she gain the roses, only to lose her daughter?
She looked over at the girl, wondering if she should find some way to take
her home again. They would be rougher with her but who were they to
want to fuck a 12-year-old, anyway? Perhaps she was wrong in allowing
her daughter to go with her to these parties. They were tasteful and fun
in some ways but, of course, quite deliberately rude in their finish.
Should a child like Cindy be shielded from them, or allowed to partake of
them? Sasha sighed. She felt a sudden rush of guilt at going herself, but
what was life if one did not live it? Especially in one�s youth, which
Sasha felt she had already lost too much of. No, she must go, for herself,
for her well-being. To explore, to learn, to test herself, and yes, to enjoy.
The men were gorgeous. She loved seeing them throb as they wanted her,
she loved feeling them have at her, without guilt, without remorse. She
loved how they could be brutal and yet loving, the mixture, the urgency of
their desire. Sasha felt a hot rush of passion. It was wonderful! She was
to be pillaged yet again, this time perhaps more dangerously than before.
She had no idea how the person who bought her would treat her, who he
would be, where he would take her, what he would make her do. It
frightened her and yet it beckoned to her, called her with its mystery, its
sense of wicked delight. She would be used, she would be put through her
paces, forced to confront her innermost aspects of herself, to find what
she liked in what the world had to offer and what she didn�t. And her
daughter would be too, and she would not be able to help her. Sasha
gulped. She looked over at Cindy again, her small elfin-like face lit up by
the glow of the computer screen.
�What are you playing, dear?� Sasha asked.
�I�m trying to kill all the men,� Cindy answered. Matter-of-factly her
fingers pressed on the game�s buttons. Pulsations of sound bleeped from
the machine, showing her progress.
�Oh, such games!� Sasha said. �Men are wonderful, dear, as you will
no doubt soon learn. They can do so much for you if you let them, if you
learn to accept their desires.�
�Uh-huh,� Cindy said, not listening, zapping away with her fingers.
�Don�t they have any nice games on that machine?� Cindy�s mother
asked, leaning over her daughter�s small shoulder now, trying to gaze at
the screen.
�MOM, this is the newest most popular game!� Cindy said.
�Well I suppose it was meant to be in good taste then, even if it
isn�t,� Sasha consoled herself. �I don�t want you playing it at school,
though, dear.�
�I won�t, mommie,� Cindy said, noting how the game, now that her
mother mentioned it, would fit quite nicely into her backpack. It was
small enough that her teachers would never find it, and if she propped her
book up on her desk somehow and turned the game�s sound off she could
play all day!
�We�ll be there in a minute, ma�am,� the driver said suddenly through
an intercom. Sasha looked at his face in the rearview mirror and though
he could not see her, for a one-way pane of glass divided them, she nodded.
She ran her hands down her thighs and took a deep breath, nearly losing the
bikini top that, similar to her daughter�s, covered her own nipples.
�Ready, dear?� Sasha asked her daughter.
�Yes, mommie,� the child answered, still preoccupied with the game.
30
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