I was finally back on board my Ingrid 38, anchored off the coast of Bangladesh near an island at the tip of N*******; not much boat traffic there, pretty secluded. I kept my running lights off, but the proximity alarms were set. 

I had put in at Chittagong for a while. I did the usual touristy things: saw the Tracts and other sights, ate some local food. I wandered around various parts of the city, and managed to attract groups of kids most places by being known for handing out candy and trinkets. I had hired some discreet security, and had made contacts with the local authorities, so I had no trouble with local thugs, official or otherwise.

I kept my eyes out for a little girl with whom I could really make contact. I’m not talking about just having sex; there’s a thriving child sex industry in Bangladesh if that’s all I wanted. I was lonely, and ready to settle down. I had inherited some money, and had added a lot to that with consulting work, computers mostly. I was well set. I wasn’t ‘locked in’ to the idea of having a preteen girl; I had feelers out on various adult ‘match’ websites for someone compatible. I was keeping my options open. 

But it didn’t seem to me like any of the little girls there ‘clicked’ with me. So I headed back out into the Indian Ocean. 

The proximity alarm was only part of my security apparatus. The other parts consisted of a S&W Police Positive, and a Mossberg 500. When I woke up to hear unusual sounds in the galley, I grabbed the S&W; from the sounds, and what little motion of the boat I could feel, whoever was in there was probably not very large, and there’s no sense putting a big hole in the hull if I didn’t have to.

I crept to the door to the main cabin and galley, then flung it open and jumped through with a loud shout. A little brown-skinned girl squeaked and fell on her rump. She skittered in reverse until she was stopped by the bulkhead, nearly screaming with fear, her legs drawn up against her body. Despite my own shock and confusion, I couldn’t help but notice that she wore no panties; with her legs pulled up her unfledged girlcleft was easily visible.

I stood there for a moment, mouth open, pistol still pointed forward, but not at her; I hadn’t tracked her as she fell. She was still squealing. I slowly pointed the pistol up, made a show of uncocking it, and placed it carefully on the counter. I knelt down and made ‘shushing’ noises, palms out, trying to calm her. “It’s OK,” I kept saying, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

It was really only a few seconds before she calmed down a bit. She was still gulping and sobbing some, but she quit screaming. I think she became aware of how…exposed she was, because she put her thighs down and pulled the edge of her dress to cover herself.

I sat down on the berth and patted the seat next to me, inviting her to sit. She hesitated. I spotted a loaf of bread, opened, a half-eaten slice on the counter next to it; naturally, she had been after food when I heard her. I made a long arm and snagged the bread, and the honey-bear I keep on the counter, and put them on the chart-table, motioning for her to come and eat. I squirted some honey on the bread. She timidly slid onto the seat and ate the bread. Then another piece, and another as I kept handing them to her, a little smile on my face. I poured some milk for her and she drank it greedily, leaving a cute little white ‘milk-mustache’ on her dark pixie face. After a while she seemed much more relaxed, presumably reassured by my willingness to feed her.

Her name was Tara. She could speak some English. I knew a little Bengali. It turns out I had seen her before; she had been one of the legions of children to whom I had given candy and trinkets. She said she had wanted to come back to see me but hadn’t been able to get away. When she next was able to come to the little park where I often sat she saw me walking away. She followed me to the docks and saw which boat was mine.

She said she ran away from where she lived, which sounded like some kind of orphanage. Unfortunately, reading between the lines from what she could relate from a child’s vantage point, it sounded like a very unsavory place; minimal care given, children poorly dressed, fed, and taught. That wasn’t so surprising; Bangladesh is a very poor nation. But on top of that, little girls not much older than she often…disappeared from the orphanage without much being said. There seemed to be no official oversight, or perhaps they were paid off.

Tara had spent some time with a missionary couple who had ministered to the children briefly; that was where she had learned most of her English. Perhaps from them she had also picked up some awareness of what was appropriate and what was not. Or perhaps it was just her innate moral sense. In any case, she told me she didn’t want to stay at the orphanage any more to find out what would happen to her. So she decided to run away. She said she liked me (so I had ‘connected’ with someone, after all) and thought she would take her chances with me. She snuck onto my boat and hid in a bin under one of the berths.

By this time dawn was breaking, light coming in through the portholes. I took a good look at her. She was filthy, and frankly she smelled a bit, too. I said, “Well, Tara, do you want me to take you back to Chittagong?” She shook her head decisively, a worried look on her face. “You want to stay on my boat for now?” She nodded, a bit more slowly. 

“Well, if you’re going to stay on my boat, there’s a few things we’ll need to talk about. First thing I want you to know is that I will do my best to take care of you. I’ll make sure you get plenty of good food to eat, and nice clothes to wear; I’ll get you books to read and make sure you learn all the things you’d learn if you were in school.” Her little pixie face brightened, a big smile on her face. “I guess you like that idea, eh?” and she nodded vigorously.

“Now here’s another thing: on board ship there’s only one captain. On this ship that’s me. When you talk to the captain you say ‘Sir’; like, ‘yes Sir’ and ‘no Sir’. Understand?” 

“Yes, Sir,” she said, and giggled a bit. I smiled back.

 “Everyone on the ship has to do what the captain says whether they want to or not. That’s the way it has to be. I’m not going to make you do anything dangerous, or anything like that. And if I tell you to do something, and you don’t want to do it, and you won’t do it, I’m not going to get mad or anything. But I will stop at the next port and find a place for you to live. Maybe another orphanage…” She made a face, the universal ‘preteen yuck face’, at that. “OK, maybe not another orphanage.” She smiled shyly. “Probably I could find a good family to take you in.” 

“So, do you still want to stay on board with me?” 

She nodded, and said, “Yes, Sir,” her eyes big and solemn. 

“Well, OK. Now, first things first: I try to keep my boat clean. So if you’re going stay on my boat and keep sitting on my nice clean berths and cushions, we’re going to have to clean you up a bit, OK?” She nodded again.

I took her up on deck, snagging a towel, a washcloth, and the Joy. “On board ship we do a Joy-bath,” I informed her, and explained what that was: a bucket of seawater (fortunately the Indian Ocean seawater was quite warm) and Joy dishwashing liquid. She just stood there for a moment. “You’ll have to take your clothes off,” I reminded her. She looked at me for a second, then slowly shrugged her shoulders out of her shift and shimmied it down off her hips. I reached down and picked it up gingerly. “I think we’ll have to get rid of this; I’ll get you something else to wear, something clean, OK?” She nodded.

I must admit, it was quite…stimulating having a little brown naked girl on the deck of my boat. She was slender, and cute, with nipples, now erect from the seabreeze, topping buds that barely broke the plane of her chest. Her cleft was completely unfledged, with the puffy vulva lips and prominent clitoris of the typical preteen girl, framed by her slender thighs.

I knelt down and looked her in the eyes. “Now I’m going to have to clean you a lot, because, frankly, you really need it. That means I’m going to have to touch you all around where you sit down and where you go to the bathroom. I’ll try not to hurt you, but it might be a bit…uncomfortable sometimes. Do you understand?” She nodded slowly, with a solemn expression on her face.

I let down the bucket on a rope, pulled it up, and poured it over her head. She didn’t shriek, but she trembled almost violently as the water cascaded down her hair, over her shoulders, and poured down her slender frame, goosebumps rising on her skin. I squirted Joy onto her head and started to work.

I spent a long time on her hair, lathering, rinsing, repeating (like the old shampoo bottles say, eh?). Then I squirted some more on the washcloth and went at the rest of her. I washed her face gently, making sure not to get soap in her eyes. I even washed behind her ears. Then on to her shoulders, down her arms, her back. Then I skipped down to her feet. Those took a while.

Then I worked up her slender legs, until I was to mid-thigh. I skipped back up again and lathered her abdomen up, making sure to clean her belly-button well (she had an ‘innie’). She had been extremely solemn and quiet up till then, so I tickled her a bit there and she giggled.

OK, fine, maybe I should have let her clean herself. But that wasn’t going to happen. I wanted her really clean, and frankly I wasn’t going to be denied the pleasure of…continuing. So I lathered up her bottom and worked the cloth over her buttocks. I didn’t spare her: I pulled the cheeks apart and went after her anus, not harshly, but firmly. Like I said, I wanted her clean if she was going to sit on my cushions! 

She started to pull away a little bit, to push my hands off her bottom. I didn’t yell, or grab her. I just stopped, turned her gently to face me, looked her in the eyes, and said, “Remember what I told you? It’s up to you. Do you want to stay on board this boat?” She looked down, then nodded, still looking down. “Did what I was doing really hurt?” She shook her head. “Then don’t pull away again, OK?” Without waiting for a reply I went back to work.

I finished cleaning her anus with the cloth, then tossed it aside (after that use it was going in the trash) and squirted some Joy on my hands. I began to work my fingers over her little rosebud. I had imagined having a little girl’s anus in my hands for a long time, and now it was a reality. I gently massaged her there, feeling her tremble. I worked the tip of my little finger, well lubricated with Joy, into her. She stiffened, and trembled more. As I pushed into her anus I could feel her sphincter clench and spasm around my finger. I probed her for a bit that way, making sure she was good and clean. 

How many times had I fantasized about probing a little girl’s anus? And now it was a reality. What a rush. It took some self-control not to probe her fiercely, and with more than one finger…

But I didn’t. I pulled out, and then started on her front. I lathered her mons, her upper thighs, her inner thighs. Then I touched her cleft, first softly, then more firmly, cleaning her thoroughly on her most intimate area. Feeling her little unfledged cleft in my hands was a complete rush. Soft, puffy lips, her prominent clitoris rolling under my fingers. She continued to tremble, and even whimpered a bit, her eyes half-closed, as I gently kneaded and worked her little sex till she was completely clean. But she didn’t pull away…

After she was cleaned I rinsed her well with buckets of seawater, then dried her gently with a soft towel. Then I wrapped the towel around her, knelt on one knee in front of her and took her little face in my hands. “Are you OK?” I asked. She looked in my eyes and nodded slowly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She shook her head solemnly. “OK, then, let’s get you dressed.”

I picked her up and carried her down into the galley and dressed her in one of my old shirts. She looked cute as a button in it. I got some more food out, some eggs, salad, a bit of meat; she looked like she could use a year’s worth of good eating. Now that she was clean, I had no compunctions about sitting her on my lap while she ate, and she seemed to take to it as if she had been sitting there her whole life. Of course it took some effort to keep my rising erection from poking into her bottom…

All cleaned up she looked even cuter, and smelled as good as she looked. As she ate I looked her over and thought it over. When she was done I leaned her back against me and said, “Now, little one, we have to talk about something else. Remember I told you on board ship there was one captain, and you have to do what the captain says?” She nodded. “Well there’s something this captain is going to want to do with you. If you don’t do what you’re supposed to do, then you’re going to get punished.” She looked up, alarmed. I took her face in my hands and said, “Don’t worry: I’m not going to really hurt you. And remember: anytime you don’t want to do what I say you can always leave. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go that I can get you to. I’ll find you good people to be with. Remember?” She nodded. “Anything I do isn’t really going to hurt. It might sting just a bit, but it shouldn’t be very bad. Believe it or not, you might even get to enjoy it a little sometimes.” She screwed her little face up in surprise at that.

“I tell you what: I’m going to give you just a little spanking, right now, so you can see what I’m talking about.” Without waiting for a reply I turned her over my lap. She didn’t exactly struggle; she resisted me only a little, but acquiesced as I eased her facedown over my knees. She flapped her hand a little as I pulled the edge of the shirt up to expose her bottom, but again she didn’t really fight me.

Now a little brown girl was lying over my lap, her bare bottom exposed for a spanking. Again, I had fantasized about this for a long time. I ran my hands over her smooth buttocks, relishing the feel: so soft yet firm at the same time, round, bouncy. I began to spank her, really little more than just taps, just enough to make a faint sound. I began to do it a little bit harder, enough that I could feel it in my hand, not quite as much of a sting as if I were applauding at a concert. A faint redness sprang up on her bottom. She whimpered just a bit.

After ten or so of those I stopped. I pulled her up into a hug and rocked her back and forth. To my delight she returned the hug, her little arms around my neck clinging to me. Finally I pulled her away a bit and looked in her eyes. “Are you OK?” I asked. She nodded slowly. “Did that hurt a lot?” She shook her head. “That’s good, I don’t want to really hurt you. But I do like spanking you; you have a cute little bottom!” She giggled a little at that.

I didn’t take things any farther for a while. I took us into a nearby port and picked up various items for her: clothes, toiletries, candy, games, books, and so forth. I downloaded (the internet is available even at sea via satellite; technology is amazing, ain’t it?) various homeschool curricula for her: English (of course), history, geography, math, science, theology, etc. She ate it all up, taking to life on board ship as if she’d been aboard all her life, reading, playing, fishing, listening to music, eating probably better than she ever had in her life, seemingly having a ball.

I kept us in the Indian Ocean for a few weeks while she enjoyed herself. The weather was perfect, ports were numerous, and the Indian Navy is exemplary: professional, competent, and not about to tolerate piracy in their waters.

I decided to move things forward a bit. I called her over to me one day. “You left your clothes lying on deck instead of putting them in the hamper, didn’t you, young lady?” I tried to sound at once stern and joking. “You’re going to have to be punished!” I solemnly intoned. She looked stricken. I took her little face in my hands, saying, “Shh, shh, little one, don’t worry. Remember: did I hurt you before?” I waited a beat, and she slowly shook her head. “If it’s too much, all you have to do is say ‘stop’ or ‘no’ or ‘ow’ or ‘don’t’, OK?” She seemed to ‘get it’.

I slid her over my lap and started her spanking. Of course I was very gentle at first; she probably barely even felt it through her shorts and panties. Not that I was going to let it stay that way! I slid her shorts off her bottom. “Hey, Sir, um, I…” she sort of vaguely protested. I didn’t answer, I just kept spanking her, now on her bottom clad only in her thin cotton panties (suitably girlish, of course, with hearts and flowers and an embroidered waistband). Now she could probably feel it just a bit, altho’ I doubted if it even stung. But after ten or so swats like that I couldn’t resist, I hooked the waistband of her panties and slid them down. SMAK-SMAK-SMAK went my hand on her bare bottom, now hard enough to bring a faint redness, visible even on her brown little bottom. “Oh-oh-oh!” she cried out softly, and whimpered and moaned a little as I continued to spank her, reveling in the feel of her firm-soft bottom under my hand, seeing it jiggle, feeling her tremble and jerk a bit with each spank, my rod stiffening in my pants…

Finally I stopped spanking and started rubbing, gently caressing and soothing. Her little cheeks were just a bit warm under my touch. I suspect what little sting I’d inflicted was all ready gone. She relaxed, and sighed, and even made little ‘mmm-mmm-mmm’ sounds as I fondled her sweet bottom. I let my fingertips trail down, touching her anus and the nether edge of her unfledged cleftlips…

After a bit I lifted her up into a hug. I really must admit, even though it didn’t really surprise me, it gratified me that she clung to me, showing no indication that she resented what I’d done. I pulled her out a little and looked in her face. “Are you OK?” I asked. She nodded. “Did that really hurt much?” After a brief pause she sort of screwed her little face up and shook it. “Did it feel good when I rubbed it afterwards?” She nodded again, a little smile on her face.

I found opportunities to spank her a few more times in the next week. I did things pretty much the same, although I caressed her a little more…insistently afterwards, letting my fingers roam over her anus and cleftlips, as her little hips moved under my hand. The last time I called her for a spanking she seemed to happily plop over my lap, and to my surprise and delight she didn’t wait for me to pull down her shorts and panties, she did it herself, then wiggled her little bottom quite lasciviously at me! Needless to say, I didn’t ignore the invitation…

Finally I figured it was about time. One evening, with a soft breeze blowing and the water chuckling under the bows as we sailed along on a beam reach, I pulled her up on my lap as I held the tiller. “Are you glad you came on the boat with me?” I asked. She nodded vigorously, smiling. “I’m glad too. I like you a lot. In fact, I love you. I really want you to be happy. I want you to stay with me, but if it would make you happier to leave, I’d rather let you go than make you unhappy,” I said, and it was true: she had become very dear to me: sweet, cute, fun to be around, and so enjoyable to see her blossom under my care after the hard times she’d had before.

“I love you, too, Sir,” she said, and put her little arms around my neck. I kissed her and nuzzled her silky dark hair for a while, just reveling in the feel of a slender, warm, loving preteen girl sitting on my lap. 

After a bit I leaned her out again and asked, “Here’s the thing: I was very lonely until you came on board. In fact, I’ve been looking for a wife. That’s one of the reasons I came to Bangladesh and met so many kids there. You see, I wouldn’t mind having a wife who’s a lot younger than I am. In fact I’d like it a lot. What I’d really like to do is have you for my wife.” She’d been looking at me steadily as I talked. It was hard to tell how she was reacting to this.

“I know that’s a big thing to think about for such a little girl. And I don’t want you to marry me unless you really want to. Because if we’re married, I won’t just be spanking you and touching you a little bit, we’ll be having sexual intercourse. Do you think you know what that means?” She nodded slowly. “I’d take it really easy at first, and I’d always try to make you feel really good, you know that, right?” She nodded again, a small smile on her lips.

“So here’s the choices: we can get married. Or I can try to find some good family for you to be with, you know I’m always willing to do that, and I think I could find one. Or you can stay on the boat like my daughter, instead of like my wife. But if we do that, then I’m going to start looking even harder for a wife; not a really young wife, but someone more my age. I’d make sure she was someone you liked and who liked you. But I wouldn’t be spanking or touching you…down there anymore, you understand?” She nodded.

“So it’s up to you, little one. What do you want to do?” I waited, almost breathlessly.

She leaned against me and didn’t speak for a short while. Then: “I wanna marry you,” she whispered.

“Tara, are you sure?” I asked. She nodded, and turned and hugged me tight. “You’ve made me so happy!” I almost shouted, and held her to me, rocking and rocking her.

“You stay right there for a minute,” I said, and busied myself for a moment dropping and reefing the sails, and dropping anchor. Then I returned to her side and enfolded her in my arms.

I guess you could say we did some ‘heavy petting’. I let my hands roam freely over her slender body, and she didn’t resist. I had been admiring the look of her little nipples pushing against her thin blouse. Now I enjoyed the feel of them, rolling and rubbing, lightly pinching and squeezing. She squirmed a bit and giggled. Then I stroked down her belly, and pushed my hand between her legs, spreading her slender thighs, sliding my hand up and up to press firmly at her cleft, hearing her little gasps, enjoying her little preteen sexuality immensely.

I slid my hand up under her blouse and seized first one, then the other of her nipples and breastbuds, kneading and working them as I kissed her deeply, my tongue invading her mouth, receiving little butterfly touches from the tip of hers. Then I ran back down, diving under the waistband of her shorts, insinuating inside her panties, touching her fully on her little girlcleft. The feel of the smooth puffy little lips, the clitoris prominent under my fingers…indescribable. She spread her thighs apart, inviting me to continue as I touched her gently, but repeatedly, her little breath coming in gasps, little ‘mmm-mmm-mmm’s coming from her lips.

She didn’t come, and I didn’t push it any farther. I wanted her to enjoy it, not to be irritated by it, so after a bit I just soothed her with my hand and withdrew, still kissing and kissing her. Then I carried her to her bunk and bid her goodnight.

In the next few days I managed to find a ‘friendly’ locality and a willing officiator a not too long sail away. So we were married.

Back on board the boat I sailed us away to a more secluded location and anchored. She looked incredibly cute in the little sailor suit I had gotten her for the occasion. I sat down and put her in front of me. I started to undress her, button by button, peeling off the layers. When she was only in her panties I spent some time caressing her, running my hands up and down her slender form, touching her cheeks, kissing her nose, brushing the hair away from her forehead, reveling.

Then I pulled her panties down. Now she stood in front of me, a naked preteen girl in front of a grown man. She shivered a bit, although it was quite warm. I continued to caress her, soothing, calming her.

“Did you ever wonder why I spanked you a lot?” She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Do you know what it means when someone says that something ‘turns them on’ or ‘makes them hot’?” She giggled a bit and nodded. “Well, the idea of spanking a pretty little girl really turns me on and makes me hot. I don’t want to really hurt you, you know that, right?” She nodded, a bit more solemnly. “I don’t even really want you to pretend to be hurt. I’d like it if you made little noises when I spank you, but remember: if you want me to stop, all you have to do is…”

She put a finger on my lips, shushing me. “I know, Sir” she said, her eyes shining, “All I have to do is say ‘stop’ or ‘no’ or ‘ow’ or ‘don’t’. Right?”

“That’s right,” I said, cupping her cheek, admiring her.

“Well, then, little one, I think you’ve been very naughty, and I’m going to give you a good spanking!” I announced. I pulled her over my lap and smacked her bottom again and again, loving the jiggle, the smack, the little jumping in her hips and the little noises on her lips. After a while I slowed down, rubbing and caressing her bottom, running my fingers between the cheeks to touch and press against her anus and cleftlips as she whimpered.

Then I pulled her up to stand in front of me. “Naughty little girls should be front-spanked, hmm?” I asked rhetorically. Seizing her well-spanked bottom in one hand, I commenced to rain smack after open-handed smack full upon her unfledged cleftlips and clitoris, not too hard, but enough to give her just a little sting with each one, SMAK-SMAK-SMAK! 

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” she cried out charmingly, her little hips rocking. Once I had reddened her cleft just enough, I put some spit on my fingers and fondled her fully, pressing, pinching, twisting, rubbing her clitoris, occasionally spanking her again, her little pelvis thrusting back and forth, until finally I was rewarded with nearly the ultimate experience of my life, my sweet little preteen girl coming in my hands, stiffening with climax, crying out, pressing her little quim desperately against the molesting hand, then falling into my arms. I held her, rocking her gently as she sobbed out the last of her ‘punishment-‘gasm’. 

I held her for a while that way. I think she even dozed a bit. Finally I put her back on deck in front of me. “We’re not going to ‘have sex’ all the way, not just yet; we’ll have to kind of get ready for that a bit at a time, OK?” She nodded, perhaps with a bit of a relieved look in her eyes. “But there’s something I’d really like to do, something that won’t hurt you at all. You might think it’s a little bit ‘yucky’, but it’s something many married people do. I’m going to put my ‘thing’ in your mouth.” She made a little face at that, but didn’t object. “Don’t worry, I keep really clean, and I’m not going to pee! Something’s going to come out of me when I’m done, but it’s not pee.” She looked even more relieved. “I want you to try to swallow it, OK? Many girls do.” She looked a little surprised, even astonished, but didn’t resist as I put her on her knees in front of me.

I took my member out. Naturally I was pointing skyward. She looked at it, appearing mesmerized, like a baby bird looking at a snake. “Go ahead and touch it, honey, it won’t hurt.” She reached out timidly, touching a finger to it, like a butterfly brushing against me. Then a bit more boldly, wrapping her fingers around it, sliding up and down. “Now put it in your mouth and suck on it, sweetheart, but don’t use your teeth, OK?” 

She opened wide, eyes half-closed, and I slid into her. Now a pretty little brown-skinned naked preteen girl was on her knees in front of me on my boat, my rod in her mouth. What a complete rush. I was working it in and out, not too far, I didn’t want to gag her, but needless to say stimulation had been pretty intense lately, and it took no time at all before I was emptying myself in her. She spluttered a bit at the rush of hot liquid, trying to swallow it, making a bit of a face at the taste, but not turning away. Some of my seed spilled out her mouth and ran down onto her chest.

I swept her up into my arms, laughing, hugging her, kissing her mouth, heedless of the traces of my seed on her lips. “You are so beautiful, so sweet, so sexy, I can’t believe it!” She nestled into my arms, clearly content.

As the days went by I enjoyed her little body so much, kissing her, caressing her, stripping her, spanking her, usually succeeding in bringing her to orgasm, then relieving myself in her mouth. 

After a week or so I moved things forward a bit. I took her up on deck and used soft cloth ‘straps’ to tie her face-forwards naked to the mast, showing her how she could get loose easily if she wanted to, her ‘bonds’ only for show. Her little bare bottom quivered as I approached her with one of the lines on deck, to use it as the ‘Jolly Rope’s End’. I whipped her gently up and down her bare thighs, then onto her buttocks, leaving faint red lines as she cried out softly. Then I refastened her facing outwards, her little arms outstretched behind her around the mast, her ankles spread apart and fastened to the stays on either side of the boat. Then I swung the rope across her chest, snapping the end against first one nipple and breastbud, then the other, hearing the soft SMACK! of the rope against her, seeing the faint redness spring up, hearing her soft cries. I paused to caress and soothe her, whispering in her ear how much I loved her, giving and receiving sweet kisses. Then the rope’s end snapped across the front of her thighs, SWAK-SWAK-SWAK! as she moaned and shivered. Finally I brought the rope up gently yet sharply between her slender legs, full upon her unfledgled cleftlips and clitoris, whipping her on her underdeveloped sex again and again as she yelped and yipped. Then I loosed her, sweeping her up into my arms, caressing and kissing her as I carried her below.

In our bunk I nearly tossed her onto the mattress, then unceremoniously fastened my mouth onto her little quim. I had not done this before, and she went nearly rigid as my tongue rasped over her punished cleftlips and clitoris, then cried out as I pushed hard against her virginity. I took her turgid clitoris in a long bite between tongue and teeth as she moaned louder and louder, then finally came and came, her hips rocking and bucking.

After her shudderings and sobbings had finally subsided I stripped and lay next to her, cuddling and caressing her. I lay on my back and pulled her on top of me, a slender brown naked preteen lying down on a grown man, my erection poking into her side. I shifted her until her moist cleft was straddling my rod, and began to slide her up and down as she whimpered a bit at the sensation. It didn’t take long until I was spilling my seed between us as I groaned and held her tight. Afterwards we swam in the ocean to rinse off, playing and splashing, she seeming to be just like any other happy preteen girl going swimming with her ‘daddy’. Except for being naked, of course...

I had a set of anal dilators shipped to a mail drop at a nearby port. I began using them on her, well-lubricated of course. After she’d gone to the bathroom I gently but firmly worked the first one into her pretty little anus, as she clenched around it, trembling and whimpering a bit. Then I fastened it in place with a little chain that stretched around her waist so it would stay in her until she had to go to the bathroom again the next day. When I removed it I pulled it out quickly, so that she cried out a bit. After she’d finished in the bathroom I put the next one in, twisting it a bit, working it back and forth, finally seating it firmly inside her. While I did so I held her unfledged cleftlips in my hand, squeezing and caressing them. I loved the little sounds she made, not quite protesting, not really pained, but obviously being…stimulated by the violation of her anus and the molestation of her underdeveloped sex. After it was all the way in and fastened, I gave her a quick spanking, first on her bottom, making sure to spank firmly but gently against the plug so that she cried out a bit, then a quick flurry of sharp but not too hard smacks on her cleftlips and clitoris. Then I tossed her on the bed and fastened my mouth on her nether lips, quickly driving her to a noisy, joyous orgasm.

After two weeks and five dilators (the last one just a bit thicker than the average 12-year-old boy’s erection) I judged her to be sufficiently dilated. By that time she had become so accustomed to my usual behavior, and seemed to be enjoying it enough, that she would pretend to be impertinent or disobedient in some way, then wiggle her bottom at me, inviting me to spank her, which I found quite charming and…stimulating! So when she had stuck her tongue out at me, an impish grin on her face, I swept her up in my arms and kissed her soundly, then whispered in her ear, “You are such a naughty little girl, aren’t you?” She nodded, her face buried in my neck, her sweet breath tickling. “Then I’m just going to have to punish you, aren’t I?” 

I carried her up on deck and stripped her naked, then spent some time just caressing her sweet, slender little body, enjoying the feel of her nipples and breastbuds as I kneaded and worked them, then sliding down to seize her buttocks and unfledged cleft, pinching and twisting, squeezing and hefting, as she whimpered and shivered.

I spanked her briskly on her bottom, SMAK-SMAK-SMAK! as she trembled and moaned, and the faint redness covered her cheeks. Then WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! went my hand against her mons, cleftlips, and clitoris, front-spanking her again and again as she yelped. 

I picked up the line I had been using to discipline her and passed it between her slender thighs, then pulled it taut against her anus and cleft, lifting her onto her toes. I pulled it back and forth, back and forth, as she whined at the roughness rubbing against her so sternly. Finally I tossed the line aside and picked her up again, rocking and cuddling her, humming a song in her ear as she melted against me.

I carried her down to the head and put her on it. “Can you go number 2 right now, Tara?” She nodded. “Then go ahead, and wash your hands and let me know when you’re done, OK?” I closed the door. 

In a couple of minutes she called to me and I opened the door. “You done?” I asked. She nodded. “OK, then, now we’re going to do something a little different. We need to get you really cleaned out.” I had picked up some enema equipment. I’m not ‘big’ into enemas, but the thought of giving my cute naked little preteen girl some ‘punishment’-enemas all ready had me hard as a rock. 

I lubricated the nozzle and put it at her anus. She clenched and squealed a bit. “Just try to relax and let it in, baby,” I whispered to her, “It shouldn’t hurt bad.” She settled down and I pushed it inside her as she shivered. 

Like I said, I’m not really into enemas, so I had no intention of putting a lot into her, making her hold it forever, and so forth. I just wanted to clean her out. So I let her expel it almost as soon as it was in her, then gave her two more. The first one was a cleansing solution. The second had some antiseptic solution in it. The third was mainly a last rinse with some kind of sweet-smelling scent to it. I wiped her clean and kissed her gently, then carried her back on deck and rinsed her off well with sea water, and toweled her dry.

I spent some time holding and caressing her, sometimes pulling her across my lap for a bit more spanking, even holding her buttocks apart and spanking her directly on her anus, which made her moan and clench fetchingly, then standing her up and front-spanking her, pinching and twisting her nipples, and so forth. Finally I laid her on the bench under the port gunwale and took her cleftlips in my mouth, kissing and sucking, nibbling and tongue-probing, until she came, bucking and squealing. Then I pulled my trunks off, sat on the bench, and stood her before me facing starboard.

I had brought a tube of lubricant with us, and now I squirted some on the end of my rod, then pulled her up onto my lap, put her anus over the end of my member, and pushed down, with some force, impaling her on my manhood, violating her deeply. She cried out once, loudly, then trembled and sobbed a bit in my arms as I held her and caressed her, reaching around in front to toy with her clitoris. Now I was buried deep in the warm rectum of my sweet little preteen girl, feeling her warm slender body against mine, feeling her sphincter, still tight even after being dilated, clenching and spasming on my rod, hearing her little gasps and moans, loving her and enjoying the moment so much I thought I’d pass out.

 In a few seconds she had quieted down some, and I whispered in her ear, “Are you OK?” She gulped and nodded. “Do you want me to stop?” By now she was responding some to her clitoris being touched, her pelvis rocking a bit.

“Uh-uh,” she murmured.

“That’s ‘uh-uh, Sir’, you naughty little girl,” I said, but kissed her ear right after, and then started thrusting into her, picking her hips up and dropping her back down, driving into her as she cried out hoarsely with each stroke. Of course it took next to no time at all before I was emptying myself deep within her rectum, groaning out a top-notch orgasm, hugging and kissing her, loving her completely.

Then it was back in the ocean for a much-needed rinse-off!

As the next few weeks went by I had such pleasure in my little brown-skinned preteen runaway girl. Eventually I took her maidenhead. Oh, I know in the stories it’s all ‘thrust for the cervix with one stroke, raping her of her virginity as she screamed one short scream’, and such; no way I was going to do that to her! We worked at it a little at a time; I don’t really know when I finally was through her hymen all the way; it probably took a week or two. She grunted a bit, and I know it was uncomfortable at times, but she was a trooper, and I made sure she had plenty of ‘punishment-‘gasms’ as we went along, and by the time she had been with me for six months I was regularly bumping up against her cervix as she moaned underneath me, her little vagina tight as a glove on my rod as I pierced her unfledged cleftlips and rubbed against her clitoris with each thrust.

We cruised for a few more months after that. Then I found us a little house by the seaside, in a locality that was…tolerant of the age difference between us. And I raised her, and spanked her, and ‘raped’ her again and again; and then we had kids, and we raised them, and then we even had grandkids. And she kept herself slim, and bare, and always played the ‘little girl getting disciplined’ with me, and gave me great pleasure, and received plenty of ‘punishment-‘gasms’, for as long as we both lived, which was happily ever after!

The End

By cc

All comments deliriously welcomed!

ccccc12345@lavabit.com
