Copyright © 1997   Phil Phantom.   ALL Rights Reserved.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without
the written permission of the author.  This story may be freely
distributed with this notice attached.  The author may be contacted
through mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.

















                                                       "Life's a Bitch"
				      By: Phil Phantom

Conrad Tweeny sat in a small chair before a massive desk feeling as small as the setup intended him to feel.  Behind the desk sat a small man in a big leather chair, making him feel as big as his position--Blake Donovan, CEO.

Blake ignored Tweeny for fifteen minutes while talking to Chicago, then slammed the phone down and looked at Tweeny.  Conrad Tweeny gulped and sat up straight.

Blake said, "Tweeny, we're getting rid of the fat, and you are one big sack of lard with your 42K salary.  What the fuck do you do in a year that's worth forty-two-fucking-thousand dollars, anyway?"

"Mr. Donovan, I've been with you for eighteen years, never missed a day, and never missed a promotion.  I was one of twelve that ignored the pickets and kept the plant running during the walkout.  I've been..."

"Yeah, yeah, but what have you done for me lately?  I'm a blunt man, Tweeny.  There's only one thing you have worth that kind of money to me, that gorgeous daughter of yours. Unless you're willing to talk about her, go clear out your desk."

Conrad's heart sank to his knees, though he wasn't sure he'd heard right, but then he remembered who he was talking to and knew he'd heard right.  With two years to go before he'd have a  vested retirement, Conrad wasn't about to clear out his desk without exploring all options, so he did the unthinkable and said, "I'm willing to hear what you have to say."

"Is that so.  I'll be blunt.  I need a young whore, a cunt I can fuck when the urge hits me, a tight little bitch that can't say no to anything, and a convenient place to fuck her.  Your place is nearby.  Do you still want to talk?"

Conrad gulped, but nodded.  His nod put a devilish smile on Blake's face.  Blake sat up and said, "I hear she's a good kid, well mannered, no trouble, a straight A student.  Is she a virgin?"

"I believe so, yes."

"You don't know? What is she, a fucking whore or what?"

"No parent knows for sure.  We let her date when she turned fifteen; that was three months ago.  She's been on three or four dates.  Something could have happened.  You never know.  I'd be willing to bet she's still a virgin, knowing her as I do."

"How well do you know her?  Describe her tits."

"I haven't seen her...tits. I've never seen her naked...well, not since she was a baby."

"She shares your home and you've never seen her naked?"

"She's very modest, always has been.  I believe she's wearing a C-cup now.  I'm not sure about that, though.  They look like C's'."

"Does she ever shoot beavers, walk around in her bra and panties, wear anything see-thru?"

"No, never."
  
"Can't you give me a fucking clue as to what we're bartering for?"

"Like I said, she's modest."

Blake reached to a drawer, pulled out a Polaroid camera, and tossed it to Conrad.  He almost dropped it.  "Get me some nudie shots--front, back, rear, some beavers--and have them by tomorrow morning or we have nothing to discuss.  Go ahead and clear your desk. You've already been laid off. If you bring back the pictures I want, and we arrive at a deal, one your wife will agree to, you can put your shit back. If not, keep the camera as a going away gift.  Now beat it.  I have a business to run."

White as a ghost, Conrad got up and made for the door.  At the door he heard, "Oh, and Tweeny.  We never had this conversation.  I have witnesses."

                                                               * * *

Conrad was almost in tears as he packed eighteen years of dedication into three cardboard boxes.  Anger hadn't set in yet, because it wasn't a done deal.  Blake could still bring him back. The key, however, was his wife Bonnie, and she loved his job as much as he did.  His 42K allowed her to pursue her passion--painting her nails and watching all the soaps or talk-trash shows on TV.  She could get the pictures if she wanted to.

Bonnie was angry, very angry, but she eventually vented enough to seriously consider the only way to preserve her life of leisure and comfortable income, not to mention her legal half of the retirement.  After a long silence, she looked to Conrad and said, "You'd go along, wouldn't you?"

"It wouldn't kill her, Bonnie.  She is sexually mature, and she may be doing it already with some dumb punk who can't help us.  This is her future, too.  No job, no college.  In the long run, I don't think it'll matter that she had to play whore for a few years to get there.  Who knows, she may love it. He's not that bad looking, and I hear he's hung."

"She'll hate it and hate us for forcing her into this.  There's no two ways about it, Connie, we'd have to force her or allow him to rape her whenever he wants her.  I know Becky.  She'd never rat on us, but she certainly would never put out willingly to a man that just wanted to use her like a windup fuck toy, and a big cock is no selling point to a girl with a tight virgin pussy.  Could you stand by while Becky gets raped every time your boss gets a hardon just so you can keep your cushy job?"

"Could you?"

"I asked you first."

Conrad thought, and thought this could be a trap.  He finally said, "You'd have to get a job, Bonnie."

"Stop weaseling and answer the question."

"I think so."

"I do too.  Now that we have that out of the way, how do we go about doing this?  And suppose he doesn't want a girl he has to rape every time. We can't promise him anything else."

"I don't think he'd mind.  Knowing him, he'd rather have her that way.  He's a mean bastard, a bully, and I can't see him being gentle regardless.  Does that make a difference?"

"Of course it does.  If he beats the shit out of her every time he drops by, there's no way we could tolerate that.  If she goes to school, black and blue too often, we'll have nosy social workers asking questions we can't give answers too.  A little rough stuff that doesn't show, I can live with, and to save our asses, so can she."

"Well, I'm sure he won't want social workers asking questions, either."

"See that he understands.  We'll permit all the rough stuff as long as nothing shows. She'll be here in thirty minutes.  We have to get pictures, porn shots of her.  Do you have any ideas?"

"I don't know.  Just make her pose and take the pictures.  She does what she's told if you tell her."

"Me take the pictures?"

"I can't.  That would only make it harder having her father make her spread her legs for a closeup of her vagina."

"And you think it won't be hard if her mother is behind the camera, zooming in on her snatch, saying, 'Okay sweetheart, now pull your cunt lips wide so Mommy can get a good shot of your virgin fuck hole?'"

"Christ, Bonnie, he said a few beavers.  He didn't say shoot her fuck hole."

"If we're going to do this, I say we do it right and show everything she has to offer and make it look as good as we can.  She's merchandise, and we're selling--no, marketing. I don't want to go through this and have him skim through the pictures and go, 'Harumph, no deal.'"

"There's no chance of that happening, not with Becky.  He wants her, now, and he's only seen her fully dressed at a distance.  Do what you want, but you're taking the pictures."

"Oh, all right.  I'll take the damn things.  Christ, I'd have thought you'd jump at the chance.  I see the way you look at her.  You want her as badly as he does."

"Yeah, well the difference is, I would never force her."

"That's because you don't have the balls.  That's why he's where he is and you're where you are.  He has balls and gets what he wants."

"You sound like you admire him."

"I can't help but admire him.  He sees a wimp like you with a sexy daughter like Becky and immediately goes for it, hands the wimp a fucking camera, and says, 'Get me some porno shots of your daughter and we'll discuss making her my whore.'  I think that's rich, Connie."

"I think it sucks."

"Tough shit!  I'll get you some first class porno shots of your daughter to take to him with your tail between your legs, but you know what?  I'm putting them in a sealed envelope and you'll see them when he sees them.  That is, if he lets you, and every pose will feature a naked beaver that shows both of her fuck holes.  You might have to ask to see them. Just tuck your tail way between your hind your hind legs and ask him pretty please."

Conrad had nothing to say and sat there with his tail between his legs--again.

  					* * *

Becky came bouncing in the door, right on time, looking pretty as always.  Her long, straight, auburn hair looked alive as it swung behind her back with every bouncy step.  Her big brown eyes had a sparkle to them and set off her light-olive complexion from a fading summer tan, giving her whole body a warm glow.  Her bright, toothy smile told them something good happened, and she was dying to share it with both parents that she found sitting at the dining table.

"Guess what happened today.  I got picked for Dorothy's part in the Wizard of Oz.  Isn't that fantastic?  I beat out two juniors and three seniors.  They picked little ole me, a sophomore....Daddy, what are you doing home so early?"

Bonnie said, "We're happy for you, Becky.  That's very special.  Obviously, looks counted a great deal.  You'll make a great Dorothy. We didn't have such a good day.  Go wait for me in my bedroom.  I'll be right along."

Becky's face fell.  "What's wrong?  Is it something I did?"

"No, dear, it's something your father didn't do.  Go on."

Becky moved on.  Bonnie grabbed the camera, swallowed the last of her beer, got up, and followed.  At the hallway entrance, Conrad said, "What didn't I do?"

"Stand up for your rights like a man with a pair of balls.  But that's all right.  This will work just as well." And then she was gone.

Thirty minutes later, she returned with a handful of photos, went to a drawer in the kitchen, took out an envelope, slipped them in, sealed the envelope, wrote her name on the flap, then came to Conrad's easy chair and dropped the bulging package in his lap, saying, "There's your porno, and damned good stuff if I do say so myself.  When he sees these, you'll be in a position to get anything you ask for.  Prove you have balls and demand a 20K raise as part of the deal."

"They're cutting back, Bonnie.  He already told me."

"Bullshit.  We're not talking about your fucking job, we're talking about our daughter's ass, and I saw what she has between her legs, and that kid has a 62K ass on her.  If you sell her ass for any less, I'll be pissed, not at him, at you.  If he gets her for 42K, I'll fuck him for free and start charging you for pussy.  See if I don't."

"How is she?"

"Finer than frog hair."

"I mean, how did she take it?"

"Not very well.  In tears, mostly.  She knows she's not in Kansas anymore.  I'm the Wicked Witch of the West, and she feels raped.  You should go comfort her.  I'm sure she doesn't want to see me.  If you hurry, she might still be naked. When I left, she was face down on the bed, crying her eyes out with that cute little cotton tail butt of hers sticking up.  I couldn't resist giving it a hard slap.  She has a bright red hand print, split by her ass crack.  Go check it out, Connie, or don't you have the balls?"

Conrad got up and made for their bedroom, saying, "Would you lay off of the balls shit. And stop calling me, Connie."

As he passed from view, she moved to look down the hall and called out, "I'm impressed, now, let's see you go in without knocking--Connie girl."

Conrad was about to knock lightly, but hearing that made him grab the knob and push in.  He caught Becky after she'd just rolled to her back and sat up, her full frontal nudity staring him in the face.  She immediately pressed her legs together and covered her breasts.  Conrad wanted to apologize and back out, but knowing Bonnie was still watching, he forced himself to remain in the room, averting his eyes as he came to sit beside her.

She sat in a huddled crouch, so Conrad placed his arm around her back and cupped her left arm near the shoulder, hugging her to his chest, peering to her lap as he did so and seeing the light triangular patch of thin brown hair over her white mound before her right hand moved over it.  

She sobbed against his chest as he rubbed his hand over her back, marveling at the ultra-tawny softness of her skin.  "There, there, sweetheart.  Everything's going to be all right."

Conrad took advantage of the situation and ran his comforting left hand low on her back, then lower over areas that he'd never touched before, those white areas left by her two piece suit--the top of her left ass cheek, then over the left hip bone, then the very top of her left leg, and a bit of inner thigh.  He brushed by her crotch hand and felt a few pubic tendrils that sent his heart beating faster and his cock lurching in his BVDs.  She didn't react to any of those touches, so he bravely patted her hand, realizing that had her hand not been there, he'd be patting her pussy.

Becky realized this too, stopped sobbing, and  stared at her father's left hand, now resting on her right hand which rested on her pubic mound, but due to the angular difference and size, his fingertips rested against her inner thighs.  Together, they had the top of her pussy well covered.  Becky said, "Why is Mom acting this way?  Is she crazy?"

"Didn't she tell you anything?"

"No, nothing, she just made me take off all of my clothes and...and..."

"I know, sweetheart, but believe me, she is not crazy and has very good reasons for doing what she did."

"What possible good reasons could there be, and why did she slap me?  She slapped me hard.  It hurt a lot.  There's a big red hand print on my...on my butt."

"Honey, I'm sure that was meant as a playful slap."

"It wasn't. She wasn't playing; she was serious and being mean."

"She was under a great deal of stress.  This wasn't easy for her to do. I'm sure you gave her a hard time.  You did, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but she wouldn't explain, and then the things she wanted me to do, the things she made me do."

"What things?"

"Poses.  Sexy poses.  Not sexy, vulgar poses, very vulgar poses.  She put me in poses Hustler wouldn't publish, and she made me smile and lick my lips, and...and...I can't even tell you what else, but it was gross, filthy, disgusting. I felt like the biggest slut there ever was. What possible reason could she have for making me do that?  What is she going to do with those disgusting pictures?  Who's going to see them?  Why?"

"If we could tell you, she would have told you.  You just have to trust that we have good reasons."

Conrad noted that she let her hand slip down off her right breast when she returned it after wiping tears from her face.  He could see the right nipple sticking out free and clear, and what a nipple it was. He could now describe it quite well: long and conical, dark brown, with a ring of goose bumps at the base bordering the white skin of her untanned breast flesh, and tiny wrinkles, a sure sign of erection in nipples of her type.

That was, indeed, an erect nipple he was staring at, and the room was warm. Could she be turning on by being naked with him?  Was it recalling the slutty poses? She did seem a bit more relaxed.  Was it the right hand he was now stroking her right upper thigh with, fondling areas of her magnificent leg he only saw in a bathing suit and never touched in his life.  That could turn a girl on and relax her.  

Encouraged, he did more of that and concentrated on the inside of her thigh as she'd relaxed her legs enough to allow a finger size gap to form which he now ventured into with all four fingers, going where no man nor boy had gone before, he was pretty sure.

And bingo, her tit arm dropped to her lap and her left hand covered his left hand, now a three handed pussy cover, and her hand stroked his as she said, "This is all so confusing, Daddy. One day, everything is fine, great, in fact, and the next, wham, I get blindsided by all this.  I'm so confused."

Conrad noted that her speech didn't even falter as his right hand moved deeper over the inner thigh area just below her right cunt lip, right next to it, very intimate flesh which he squeezed gently as he said, "I know, dear, but you're growing up and a certain someone [she didn't stiffen or flinch, so he squeezed again] has taken notice.  This certain someone has the power to ruin our lives. [He did it again, this time with his index finger feeling wet cunt hairs] If you must know, this certain someone ordered us to take those pictures. We had no choice and argued over who had to do it.

Conrad now had his right hand nestled between her upper thighs, up against her cunt with the fingers pointing down.  He could feel wet tissue, either her clit or her inner lips.  He could see both tits and both nipples were in a hard pucker.  She still absent mindedly stroked the back of his hand and toyed with hairs, and he now had his index finger nestled firmly in her wet slit.  Her cunt lips molded around his finger, that's how firmly he had it set. 

She still showed no sign of stress, and then she pulled the bottom hand out from under the pile to wipe her face, and his left was now the low hand on the pussy pile, feeling all the hairs.  He now realized that he sat there with his arms around her and both hands on her cunt, and she'd let her knees drift apart by almost a foot.  The hand that had been the low hand on her pussy was now on his back, stroking as she said, "Daddy, I need to get dressed, now."

"DAMN!" he thought, "Just a parting gift."

He ignored the hint and thought a little more stimulation on the clit would help her forget. He moved the right hand up and down like a saw so that it rubbed her clit while he used his left to add pressure from the sides, sending the two middle fingers on a journey down each puffy labia lip, plenty of stimulation as he tried to saw his daughter in half, lengthwise.

"Daddy, Mom wouldn't like this."

Conrad thought of several witty comebacks while continuing to saw: Are you kidding, she loves having her cunt rubbed--So what; she's not here--Bull, she'd want to take a picture.  

When she said, "Daddy, please," he meekly withdrew his hands and waited.  She had hinted for him to leave so she could get dressed. When she could see that he was ignoring the hint, she smiled knowingly, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and stood up, then turned to face him as she looked for her panties.

She spotted her panties at the foot of the bed, walked over and picked them up. She did, indeed, have a bright red hand print on her ass, and she did, indeed, have a 62K ass.   She then picked up the bra, the blouse, the skirt, two shoes and two socks and brought them all back, spreading them out on the spot beside him, another gift as she took her time and gave him plenty to look at.

He stared at her pussy or tits, but she didn't make him uncomfortable by looking to him and taking note.  She just knew.  She also took an inordinate amount of time setting everything just so.  She picked up the bra and started to put it on, then suddenly turned her back to him and said, "See where Mom hit me."

"Yes, she did hit hard."  He ran his fingers all over the red imprint, then, on impulse, sent them low in the crack and onto her pussy pouch, his middle finger riding inside the slit, going up past the clit, around the clit, back to the hole, around the inside of the hole, then in to the first knuckle. Her reaction to this was, "Daddy!"

He decided he'd never have a better opportunity to determine her virginness, and sent the finger in to her hymen.  For this, he got, "Daddy, stop that! Remember, I'm your daughter."  This time, she added action and stepped off the fingers, turned, and with the bra dangling from her hand and her chest out proud and perky, said, "You're as bad as Mom.  Does this certain someone also want to know if I'm a virgin, or were you just being curious?"

"He wants to know."

She did not try to avoid his hand when he reached.  She  said,  "You could have asked, but I suppose he wants proof.  Go ahead. Get proof before I put my panties on." She came and stood between his knees to put the bra on and got her pussy felt again, this time from the front. 
 
Conrad couldn't believe this but wasn't about to ask questions.  While she stood passively and slowly put on the bra, he thoroughly examined his daughter's sexy pussy, inside and out, with both hands coming in from the front and the rear.  Yep, she was a virgin, and a slimy wet one at that.  

After getting her tits set back in their cups, hooking the center clasp, and adjusting the fit, she stood still for the excessive fondling for almost a full minute, but then reached for her panties and stepped into them, all without dislodging his hands.  She pulled them up her legs, then couldn't go any further and said, "You don't take hints very well.  Come on, Daddy, enough is enough.  I know you have your proof.  I can feel you pushing on it.  Push any harder and you'll have to tell your certain someone that I'm not a virgin.  I would imagine he'd be very disappointed after he sees the pictures of my hymen."

Conrad reluctantly pulled his hand away and watched her snug her panties in place.  She put on the blouse, then the skirt.  She sat beside him to put her shoes and socks on and he couldn't resist running his hand up her leg to her panties, then on inside and into her hole again, clear to her hymen. She said, "Give you an inch."

She did nothing to interfere other than to keep putting her shoes and socks on. With that done, she sat up and placed both hands behind her, leaning back on straight arms, staring at her crotch and bunched skirt which he boldly laid back to expose her panties.  If that weren't enough, he pulled the crotch aside so he could see what he was playing with.  

Becky watched him play with her pussy parts, now sitting with her legs apart, not too far, but far enough that they both had a good view as he rubbed on her shiny clit, tugged on her thin inner lips, ventured inside the hole, and did a little finger fucking, using her hymen as a trampoline for his frisky finger.  She watched for a few minutes, then said, "Daddy, what's it all about?  Tell me.  I need to know.  I think he wants to do more than look at dirty pictures of me. Is that it?"

"And if it is?"

"I need to know?"

"And if you knew?"

"Knew what?  Nobody will tell me anything.  Just come right out and say it. You and Mom are going out of your way to get me in the mood. Is he on his way over?  If he is, I'll tell you right now, I'm not ready, mood or no mood.  I have the right to decide who takes my virginity or who I have sex with.  I do have that right, don't I...Well, don't I?...Daddy?"

Conrad stopped playing and stood.  He looked at Becky, then left.  Becky stared at the closed door for several seconds, then said, "Oh fuck!" and fell back on the mattress.

					* * *

Conrad found Bonnie at the table nursing another beer.  He beamed a big smile, walked over, and passed his stink finger under her nose, saying, "Who don't have balls?"

Though the musky scent was pleasant, Bonnie pushed his hand away and said, "Big deal.  Mine smell the same way, and I sure as hell don't have balls."

He stared at the hand being offered to sniff, then plopped down.  He said, "She's a virgin.  I think we're in like Flint."

"You were in there long enough, I was afraid she wouldn't be."

"I could have fucked her if I had pressed the advantage, but I let her go."

"How big of you.  She must be devastated, shattered by rejection.  So, how is she?"

"Finer than frog hair."

"Very funny.  I'm serious.  She must have had ten thousand questions."

"She did, and I eventually told her that someone who could ruin us or save us is interested in her. She figured it out on her own and asked me point black if she had the right to decide who she had sex with and who gets her cherry."

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing.  I just walked out."

"Idiot.  You should have set her straight."

"She knows she's fucked, and she thinks he's on the way over.  She'll probably go to her room and hide till he gets here, but he ain't coming, not tonight, anyway.  Maybe you better go fill her in, you know, have that all important mother/daughter talk about who gets to decide who fucks who while she's living under our roof and eating our groceries."

"No, let her sweat.  By tomorrow night, she'll be all sweated out and just want to get it over with."

"You know, she thought we were getting her in the mood.  I could stop in on her from time to time and get her in the mood with a little finger play.  You know, get her all worked up and leave her hanging.  By the time he does show up, she'll rape his ass."

"Not a bad idea, but I'm afraid you'll get worked up and bust her cherry."

"I've got it under control.  That's a fine pussy she has between her legs, but I'm not about to blow this deal with Blake--no way. I just want to run my finger over her cherry a few more times while I still can."

"Let me see your nails."  He showed both hands. She examined closely, then said, "Hit these with an emery board.  That membrane can tear too damned easy. I know. That's what happened to mine.  I lost my cherry to a shithead's hang nail.  Go ahead, but be careful, and don't let her cum.  I had a hair trigger at that age.  I imagine she does, too.  It'll sneak up on you.  If you feel her stiffen, back off and stay away from her clit.  Remember the goal.  Take her right to the brink, then leave her hanging. We want that little bitch so horny she'd fuck a goat at the homecoming game on the fifty-yard line.

Becky eased back down the hall and went into her bedroom, laid face down on her bed and thought about who the guy could be that would be coming tomorrow.  Then she wondered when her father would come and run his finger over her cherry while he still could.  Then she thought about birth control, social disease, unwanted pregnancy, abortion, adoption, and James and would he still be interested if he found out she wasn't a virgin anymore.  

Their relationship was based on checking her virginity. He always wanted proof: on the school bus, in the cafeteria, by the locker, backstage, in the band room, under the bleachers, at the movies, in the pool, in the park And she never once thought to check his nails, being too busy checking to see if the coast was clear, and she wasn't too good at doing that once the checking started. 

She was still thinking when her door opened without the mandatory knock.  There was Daddy, smiling.  He came over and sat at her hip, ran a hand up the back of her leg, under the skirt, and dug under the leg hole of her panties in that familiar way James did, only he wasn't a quarterback, he was Daddy.

Becky didn't say or do anything.  She just laid there and got fingered. He moved the rear hem up over her ass, then pulled his finger out and grabbed the panty waist band at each hip and tugged.  Becky lifted slightly to help him out.  The rest was easy, and she now lay naked from the waist down as the finger returned and resumed fucking.

She was glad he didn't want to talk for it left her to her own thoughts, and she thought she could beat them at their game and sneak in a climax if she thought about the things she thought about when she did it to herself.  She remained perfectly still, totally relaxed.  She closed her eyes and thought hard.

She pictured she and James riding in the back seat of their car with her father driving and her mother talking to him, going...somewhere far.  James put his hand on her leg.  He wanted to check.  She gave him a panicked look because she'd promised him early in their relationship that she would never stop him from checking as long as no one was looking, and technically, they weren't looking.  He had the right.  She had to let him.

She kept a close eye on her mother as the hand went up her skirt and began digging under the leg band of her panties, then digging in her vaginal clam, seeking her hole, and then he was in the hole and checking, checking the fuck out of her with her mother turned sideways on the front seat.  All she'd have to do was glance left and down and she'd think she was letting the boy finger fuck her.  That's what everyone thought and that's way they started calling her Finger Bang Becky. 

Her mom, she knew, wouldn't call her Finger Bang Becky, she'd just reach back and slap her face.  She wouldn't say or do anything to James. That's what boys do.  It's the girl's responsibility to keep the boy's desires in check, and bad girls get slapped, and she wished she hadn't shared that info with James.  He wasn't the least concerned. He even pulled the skirt up and pulled the crotch aside.

Her mom heard the tearing of the crotch.  Becky suddenly got her face slapped and heard, "You fucking slut!"  

And James wouldn't stop.  He did it harder, and her father was now looking, and her mother stared, and she said, "Why, you nasty little whore, letting that nice young man play with your cunt like that.  You shameless little hussy, letting your father look at your pussy getting finger fucked.  I have never seen such shameless behavior in a girl in all my life."

But she couldn't help herself.  The rules say that once he gets his finger in, she can't stop him or touch anything.  She had to sit there with her fists clenched.  Those were the rules and James was a real stickler for rules; and besides, she was about to have an orgasm.  What girl can stop doing something that leads to that. 

She got nearer to orgasm, but got another hard slap, got closer, and got another slap, began grinding her cunt on the finger and got three slaps in a row, and had an orgasm while getting repeatedly slapped and called filthy names.

And in the real world, despite her best efforts, she began a rolling grind on her Daddy's fingers and he pulled them away.  Becky went tense all over and made white-knuckled fists that dug her nails into her palms.  She wanted to scream.  He was leaving.  Great, hurry and leave!

As soon as he was out the door, Becky was up and on her way to lock it. Just as she reached for the knob, the door opened and there stood her mother looking stern.  Becky backed away from her as Bonnie entered.  She gave Becky the once over then raised the hem of her skirt and reached between her legs.  She cupped Becky's heated sex and backed her to the closet door where she used expert finger manipulation to bring her to the brink, saying, "You weren't going to lock that door and masturbate, were you, Becky?  Answer me, and don't you dare try to lie to me."

Becky nodded while trying to stave off an orgasm.  Just as she was going over the edge, her mother withdrew the hand and stood with folded arms.  Becky wanted to scream, but stood there and heard, "Get out of those clothes, young lady!  Now!"

Becky began undoing buttons, hurriedly.  She stripped as fast as she could, then stood naked, shyly covering her crotch and tits, but got her hands slapped for the effort and stood straight with her arms hanging limply at her sides, trembling.  He mother said, "You will remain naked in this house until further notice.  You will not shut any doors.  You won't even go to the toilet by yourself.  If I see your hand anywhere near your cunt, I'll bind your hands behind your back and put Tobasco on your clit.  Do you understand me?"

Becky nodded hard.  Bonnie grabbed her by the arm and shoved her toward the door, saying, "Get out there and help with dinner, and I'd better not see you rubbing your nasty little cunt on anything."  And to punctuate that, she slapped Becky hard on the ass, propelling her past her father who had been watching from the open doorway.  Becky went crying down the hall, her jiggling red ass being the last thing he saw.

Conrad looked to Bonnie and said, "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes, it was. I saw a show on Jenny Jones about people who get pleasure from pain.  They say it starts when pain gets mixed with pleasure, like when a little girl gets placed over her father's lap for a bare bottom spanking and she gets excited by being seen naked and feeling his erection under her body, then the pain gets added and the two become associated.  It makes sense to me, and I know Becky was turned on both times I hit her."

"So what?"

"So, she'd better start associating pain and pleasure before Blake gets hold of her.  That's so what.  It'll be easier on all of us if Becky learns to get off on the pleasure and the pain.  If this is just pure hell for her, I don't think I could take it, and there's always the chance she'll run away.  Teenage runaways are epidemic nowadays.  I saw a show on that, several, in fact, and you don't want to know what happens to those girls.  We have to help her discover this connection.  Like it or not, we must."

"I suppose, but it sure makes me feel like shit treating her this way.  She doesn't deserve any of this."

"Do you think I'm enjoying myself?"

"You fooled me."

"Well, maybe I am just a bit, but so what.  If we have to do this, why not enjoy it.  Tell me you're not enjoying yourself, Mr. Stinky Finger." Conrad blushed and gave a sheepish smile.  "Come on.  Let's have some more fun. You haven't seen my evil step-mother routine, yet. I'm not wearing panties and she needs to spend more time on her knees, don't you think?"

"Bonnie, you wouldn't!"  

"Oh, wouldn't I?  I'll be damned if I'll share space with a whore and not get my due.  I'm the number one whore in this whore house, and she needs to learn her place."

"Fuck, Bonnie, that's your daughter."

"So, she has a tongue, doesn't she?  Get off it, Connie, like you wouldn't fuck her."

"If she's going to be taking care of you, I will.  Fair is fair, Bonnie."

"If you want it, you have to get it."

"I can't until he does."
 
"There's no hymen in her ass. A real man would have been fucking her in the ass, not playing with a pussy he can't have."

"Are you serious, Bonnie?  Are we really going to do this?"

"I don't know about you, but this deal is going down with Blake.  She's going to hate me, so why not?  You do what you want, but she'll be hating you, too.  We can patch things up later, maybe years later, but who cares.  Now is now, and these are the cards we were dealt.  Life's a bitch, then you die."

And then she brushed by and Conrad followed.  

					* * *

Becky stood at the sink peeling carrots and cucumbers for a salad when she heard her parents enter the adjoining dining room.  One approached her.  The other took a seat at the table.  The hand that touched her ass was her fathers and he felt the outline of her new hand print before going low and feeling her pussy.  She expected he would, but didn't expect him to get his finger wet and slide up to her asshole and work it inside.  

Becky grabbed the edges of the sink and went to her tip toes as his finger went all the way up her ass.  Had James tried that he'd have gotten a piece of her mind.  That was against the rules, but that finger was Daddy's and her mother was looking on, so she grinned and bore it, and she bore the ass finger fucking she got as well.

Becky thought their dirty little game was getting a bit out of hand and was about to tell them so and take the consequences when the finger started feeling not-so-bad and then pretty good, surprisingly so.  She should have given James a little more time.  No wonder some girls swear by anal, and you can't get pregnant.  Hummm. She bore some more.

He took the carrot she held in her left hand and the finger came out.  The carrot went in, all eight inches, and she now had a green leafy tail.  Her mother laughed as her father joined her.

Becky now felt a strong urge to yank the carrot out of her ass, sling it at them, and start the war, but it was so weird being naked in front of them with a carrot up her ass, kinda neat.  She wondered what else they might do.  She picked up a cucumber and began peeling, acting really upset, peeling it hard, wasting a bunch.

Becky listened closely and heard a chair scoot back.  She thought she head a zip.  Yes, clothes were coming off.  She heard high heels clatter--her mother!  Becky braced for another slap to her ass and wasn't disappointed.  Damn that hurt!

"You peel that cuke like I taught you or it's going up your ass."

Becky started peeling it properly.  It was still a big cuke and terribly uneven.  Her mother came closer--too close for a naked mother to stand behind a naked daughter.  Becky felt hard nipples on her back and wiry hairs on her ass just above the carrot.  Hands came under her arms and took hold of her tits, the fingers and thumbs rolling her nipples as a mouth nibbled on her left ear.  

Woah!  What's this?  

Her father came up on their side and took a viewing position.  

"Did you know I was strongly bisexual, Becky?"

Becky stopped peeling a cuke properly or otherwise and said, "I do now."

"Did you ever suck another girl's pussy for her?"

"Mom, you're scaring me.  This isn't funny."

"Does it feel like I'm trying to be funny?"

One hand had dropped to her pussy and was feeling it the way her father did, only much better, like it knew exactly what felt best and just how hard to feel it.  Becky said, "No, not really."

"Then answer my question."

"No, I can't say that I have."

"But you've thought about it, haven't you?  Don't lie to me, Becky.  I know when you lie."

Becky glanced to her father and saw him stroking his dick.  James had him beat.  Her mother was tonguing her ear rather well.  Becky said, "I've thought about it."

"When you masturbate?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, this is your lucky day.  I'm going to let you lick my pussy."

"Mom, I...ugh...umph...abaded..."

The hand that was in her pussy was now in her mouth and making her speech garbled.  When it came out, she forgot what she was trying to say.  That hand was now busy in her mother's crotch.  Becky could feel the back of the hand on her carrot.  That hand was digging deep, and then it was prying inside her mouth.  Becky soon sucked on three fingers because...well, just because.

Bonnie took Becky by the hand and led her into the living room, took a seat in Conrad's recliner, and draped her legs over the arms.  Patting her mound, she told Becky to kneel and dine.  Becky eased to her knees while staring at her mother's vaginal maw, then eased into it, face first, and began dining.

Conrad watched for a few minutes, then pulled the carrot out and put his cock in.  Becky missed the carrot and was now getting her face fucked into the wet beaver as the beaver moved all over her face.  

Becky was getting fucked at both ends and thought now was the time to go to war, but the fucking in her rear suddenly stopped and she heard her father say, "Bonnie, stop!  Listen."

All action stopped and all listened to the news bulletin on the TV:

Once again, millionaire businessman, Blake Donovan, CEO of Donovan Industries, was shot at the home of an employee by the employee's twelve-year-old daughter. A police spokesperson said the killing was self defense.  No charges are being filed on the girl.  The parents, who were both present at the time, have been taken into custody.  Charges may be pending.  We will have more as this bizarre story unfolds. Now, back to our regularly scheduled program.

Conrad and Bonnie looked at each other and both expressions said, "OH FUCK!"

Conrad's dick went noodle soft and plopped out of Becky's ass as he realized the man who could restore him to his job was dead.  Bonnie realized this, too, and pushed Becky's face out of her crotch and said, "Sweetheart, why don't you take a nice hot bath, put on anything you like, and I'll call you when dinner's ready.  Okay?"

Becky, sat back on her heels and looked from one nervous and upset parent to another, recalled the news brief, put two, two, and two together, came up with six and stood.  Bonnie hurriedly got up and ran for her clothes.  Conrad hurriedly put his dick away and zipped.  He zipped too soon and bellowed as he danced in place.  Becky wandered off smiling to herself.

An hour later, Becky came down in a shorty bathrobe and bunny slippers.  Obviously nude under the loosely-belted robe, she took her seat and joined her two well-dressed parents.  "Pass the peas, please."

"Here you are, dear." Said Bonnie. "Would you like some salad?  We have a new dressing you might like."

"No thanks."

They ate mostly in silence.  Order was now restored, or appeared to be.  The parents kept looking to the child for signs that it was.  The child gave few clues.  Halfway through her favorite desert, with a mouthful of strawberry cheesecake, Becky said, "It's a shame about a certain someone getting blown away like that.  Some girls just don't take to rape very well.  I know I don't, and I can always get my hands on a gun.  It's a good thing we never have to worry about that happening in this house, isn't it?"

Parental heads were nodding in unison.  Becky finished her desert, then stood and let the robe drop to the floor.  The parents sat with their mouths open.  Becky looked from one to the other, then said, "Let's finish what we started, only I get to sit in the chair this time, okay?"

Once again, parental heads were nodding in unison.

Life's a bitch, and then a certain someone dies.

					The End

E-mail the author Phantom@Sonny.Net

















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