


Codes: ff ped bd ws




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*   WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING  *
*        WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING        *
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*                                                                              *
* For the love of SPOONS no one under the age of twenty-one (21) or the age of *
* consent for their geographical location (whichever is HIGHER) needs to be    *
* anywhere near this.  This is a story meant for legally-adult readers.  Don't *
* let your kids read this.  Don't let your dog read this.  Don't let your      *
* religious leader within the same postal code as this.  You know, really, YOU *
* probably shouldn't even read this horrible, nasty, terrible story.           *
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* Hopefully it goes without saying, but if you ever even vaguely ponder the    *
* SLIGHT idea that MAYBE you would CONSIDER doing anything even REMOTELY like  *
* anything depicted herein--GET HELP.  NOW.  Therapy is a wonderful thing.     *
*                                                                              *
* This story can (and probably does) contain one or more of the following (bet *
* your last nickel on "more"): Incest, pedophilia, watersports, extreme female *
* domination, bestiality, psychological torture, and who knows WHAT other      *
* sick, perverted, dirty, terrible, and disgusting things I can come up with.  *
* Really, you ought to stop reading.  Right now.  I'm serious.                 *
*                                                                              *
* ...still here?  You sure?  This is bad-bad mojo.  Last chance...             *
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*        WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING        *
*   WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING    WARNING  *
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                             THE TAMING OF THE SHREW
                                       by
                          Forbidden Fantasy Storyteller




        Her parents were at their wits' end.  Six years old, and already a
veritable demon.  Nothing they did worked.  Though they were loathe to turn
to prescription medication, they thought they were almost out of options.  The
girl would throw tantrums over every possible thing--food, bedtime, clothing,
bathing, school...  It never really ended.

        A family friend turned them on to her own babysitter.  At fourteen
years old, the girl was spoken of almost as a miracle worker.  She could, it was
sworn, calm any child down.  Any at all.  Naturally, the demon's parents
couldn't believe it.  But--they also knew that they couldn't survive many more
temper tantrums from their daughter.

        The sitter arrived one Friday night, precisely fifteen minutes before
the scheduled time.  "To be early is to be on time," she'd said, smiling
brightly.  She took the extra time to see what special dietary needs the child
have, and so on.  As far as those sorts of things went, there weren't any, so
the sitter moved right into the next discussion.

        From her backpack, she pulled out some wireless web cameras, saying how
they could be placed in every room but the restroom and bedrooms, and could be
accessed on the internet from their iPhone--she even provided the app for it.
However, this access is what necessitated the cameras not being in the specified
rooms.  Further, they were capable of transmitting audio signals as well, so the
parents could keep up with what was going on completely.

        When asked what some of her techniques were, she pulled out a few Mozart
C.D.s, saying that classical music had shown demonstrable reduction in anxiety,
which, when combined with a calm but firm authority figure, helped even the most
unruly of children calm down.  Then there were certain children's books--Golden
Books, Nate the Great, that sort of thing.  They were a little under her reading
level, so she could read them to the sitter.  That bit of control, that bit of
responsibility, also helped, said the sitter.

        She didn't believe in medications except for extreme cases, and she
said, with a bit of a conspiratorial grin, that she had yet to come across an
extreme enough case.  The parents conferred and remembered their friend's
daughter; while not as much a tantrum-throwing trouble-maker as their own, she
certainly wasn't exactly easy to deal with, and they remember how much she'd
calmed down.  Those parents put all the credit on this girl, so--they were
heavily leaning toward trying her services.

        What finally made them fully decide was her rates--they were more than
just competitive; they were actually a little cheaper than most sitters.  She'd
said that she could do this because what she did worked, and as such she was
referred so much, she made up whatever money she lost by charging less and then
some.

        After the app was installed on the parents' phones and cameras placed
around the home, the parents left for a much-deserved rest.  The sitter found
the little girl in her room, sitting on her bed with her arms crossed, scowling
at her.

        The sitter introduced herself, then said, "Okay, now--tell you what.
Let's get you a bath, then we'll see about dinner, okay?"

        "I don't fuckin' think so," grumbled the girl.  She didn't have the
first clue what that profanity actually meant, but saying it drove the adults up
the wall, and that was more than enough.

        The sitter's eyes narrowed, though the sweet smile stayed on her lips.
Leaning in a little so the camera in the hall wouldn't catch her voice, she
murmured, "Listen you little bitch--you're going to get your God damned ass in
there or you WILL regret it..."  The girl's eyes widened; no one had ever talked
to her like that before, especially not with such menace.

        Mutely, the girl slid off the bed as the sitter picked out a pajama set,
then they headed into the bathroom.  The sitter paused to retrieve a miniature
stereo from her backpack and one of the C.D.s.  When they were in the bathroom
and she had the music going just loud enough, she looked at the child, the smile
gone.

        "Take off your clothes."

        "No!"

        That earned her a vicious back-hand to her face that sent her against
the wall.  Tears streaming, she glared up at the sitter from the floor.  "You
don't get to say 'no'.  Got that?  Now take those clothes off or I'll take them
off of you, and you won't like it if I do it."

        The girl just glared, sniffling, bottom lip wobbling.  "Fine," said the
sitter, then grabbed a fistful of the girl's shirt and yanked her to her feet.
Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out a switch-blade and, to the child's
surprise, actually cut the clothes away from her.  The rags were tossed in a
heap on the floor, then the knife was put away.

        The actual bathing went about as can be expected.  She wasn't allowed to
bathe herself, and the sitter wasn't exactly gentle.  She did spend an
inordinate amount of time cleaning the child's pussy and asshole with the wash
rag.

        "Little bitch girls need to keep their pussies and assholes very, very
clean," said the sitter, glancing at the child's eyes pointedly.  "You WILL keep
these clean, you hear me?"  The girl said nothing, though there was the
slightest of nods.  "Good bitch.  And from now on--that's your name.  Bitch.
You'll have to earn your name back, just like you'll have to earn a lot of
things you've taken for granted.  And don't think I won't do whatever it takes
to get that through your stupid head."

        When the bath was finally done with, she dried the girl off roughly,
then dressed her in her pajamas.  When the girl asked about her underwear, the
sitter said that panties were one of the things she'd have to earn back.

        Dinner was quiet, which was decidedly out of character for the child,
though the sitter moved around the kitchen humming along to the music, the sweet
smile once again on her face.  Frozen pizza was put in the oven, and while it
was cooking the sitter stroked the girl's hair, her smile widening as the girl
glared so deeply at her it looked like the expression must almost have hurt.

        While they ate, the sitter did a chair-dance along to the music, after
having to kick the child's ankle under the table, and thus out of view of any
cameras, to get her to start eating.

        Once everything was put away, she crouched in front of the child,
stroking her hair some more, saying, "Okay, now--let's go read, hmm?  I have a
few books I think you can help me with."  Her eyes narrowed again, though only
the child could see the change in expression.  It was like in the bathroom, so
she only nodded.

        They went to her bedroom, both sitting on the bed facing the door--and
the camera in the hall--while the girl read.  The music was turned down--and at
that same time, a microphone was placed so it would catch the girl's voice as
well as the music.  The microphone transmitted to the laptop in her backpack,
which she'd made sure was turned on with the recording program running.

        Sitting on the bed with her ankles crossed, the sitter let them bounce
lightly as the child some of the Nate the Great books.  She was careful to make
no noise, though it wouldn't have appeared suspicious to the parents.  She
smiled and stroked the girl's hair, and when she was done the music was turned
back up a little--though not before shutting off the microphone.  A good couple
of hours was recorded.

        When the parents came home, they walked in with huge, disbelieving
smiles on their faces.  The sitter was in the living room, reading one of the
National Geographic magazines that were on the coffee table.  They watched, in
the restaurant, as the child was eventually put to bed, and the sitter stay
contentedly in the living room.  She never touched the television or a phone,
which itself was almost a surprise.

        But the real surprise was their daughter.  The father peeked in on the
girl and, sure enough, she was sleeping quietly.  They talked to the sitter, and
she told them about the clothes the girl had destroyed in a tantrum, but asked
that she not be punished.  The girl needed firmness, needed to see resolve,
which would go much farther than any spanking would.  They agreed and let it go.
It's amazing what people can forget about after enduring countless worse events.


                               TWO WEEKS LATER...


        Two weeks of this.  For eight of those fourteen days, the sitter was
there, watching the little shrew of a girl.  She had to be smacked around more
than once, though thankfully there were no more occurences of the girl
destroying her own clothing.

        One Saturday, she was to sit for the girl all day and most of the
evening; since she was doing so well, they felt they could get away for a little
more, and the sitter assured them it was no problem.  They deserved it, she'd
said.  It can be so hard to raise a "difficult" child even when the parents love
them, she'd said.  She took no extra money for the day, either, saying her
normal hourly rate was more than sufficient.

        When the parents left and their car pulled away, the sitter hunted down
the little brat, and as usual she was sitting on her bed.  She looked up as the
sitter entered the room.  There was still a touch of defiance in her mien, but
it was lessening.  The girl realized this was going to continue.

        "Ready for some more fun and games?" asked the sitter, and with her back
to the camera, only the child saw the way the grin was positively twisted on her
face.  Her tone was as sweet as ever, but that look on her face was anything
but.  The girl realized this was going to be a different night.

        The bath went as it always did, and she was dressed in pajamas after.
When in the bedroom, that's when things changed.  The backpack was put on the
floor by the bed and the miniature stereo was put on the child's dresser as
usual, but the C.D. that the sitter pulled out didn't look like the other discs.
She put it in and closed the door, then right after hitting play, she grabbed
the girl.

        From the stereo came the girl's voice, recorded that fortnight previous,
reading that Nate the Great book, played loud enough for the camera outside.
The girl herself was grabbed before she could make a sound, a hand firmly
clamped over her mouth.  Pinning the girl against the bed by crouching behind
her and pressing against her, the sitter reached into her backpack and pulled
out a roll of electrical tape.

        "Make a sound and you WILL regret it..." hissed the sitter, and she
waited for the tiny nod before removing her hand.  The girl's wrists were taped
together, then a sock was shoved into her mouth and tape wrapped around her head
to keep it firmly in place.  Shoving the girl onto the bed, the sitter then
brought out a few lengths of rope from the backpack.

        One length was tied to the girl's wrists then to the headboard, another
length stretched from one ankle to the footboard, and lastly the other ankle.
She had carefully and surreptitiously measured the girl, so knew exactly how
much rope to use.

        The sitter took out her switch-blade, and swiftly cut the pajamas from
the child, tossing the strips aside and standing back to openly admire the
girl's naked form.  "You really are such a cute bitch," she whispered so only
the girl could hear, smiling.  "I'm glad I was allowed to have you first."

        With equal swiftness, she stripped her own clothes off, dropping them in
a pile on the floor near the door, then she reached into the backpack once more.
The girl's eyes watched every move carefully, tears streaming freely.

        Though the girl didn't know what it was just yet, the sitter brought out
a strap-on.  The dildo was flesh-colored, and the sitter brought it near the
girl's face.  "I'm going to fuck you with this," she murmured, openly enjoying
the look of confusion her comment got from the girl.  "That word you use so
much?  'Fuck?'  You're going to find out what it means, you little bitch."

        She strapped herself into the thing then posed for the girl.  "What do
you think, bitch?" she whispered cheekily.  The girl started to make some soft
noises around the gag, but the sitter smacked her inner thigh, muttering, "I
don't actually want an answer."

        One last thing was pulled out of the backpack--a tube of lubricant.  A
little was smeared over the dildo--just enough to actually allow the bitch to
be fucked, though it was still going to hurt like hell.

        "Ready to be fucked?" asked the sitter, adopting that cheeky tone again
as she climbed onto the bed to kneel between the girl's thighs.  The girl shook
her head, which earned her a backhand across her face.  "When you're asked if
you're ready to fuck, the answer is ALWAYS yes, do you understand?"

        The girl nodded.

        "Good.  Are you ready to fuck?"  The girl hesitated, so got smacked on
her other cheek.  "Are.  You.  Ready.  To.  FUCK."  The last growled out, and
the girl nodded furiously.  "Good, bitch.  Since you're so ready, there's no
need to prolong it, hmm?"

        The head of the dildo was pushed into the tiny cunt, and the sitter
rather violently shoved in, causing the girl to squeak around the gag.  It would
have been a scream, the sitter knew.  "Good, bitch," muttered the teenager, then
she started to quickly thrust the dildo into the tight hole.  She kept this up
for over five full minutes, watching the girl's face as the tears just continued
to flow.

        Pulling out as quickly as she'd entered the girl, the sitter muttered,
"I can only imagine how tight you are, bitch.  Don't worry, you'll have a real
man fuck you soon enough.  I was given the honor of letting you know what you'll
be expected to do.  Speaking of..."

        She shifted a little, squatting a little more and pulling the girl's ass
off of the bed.  There was just enough slack in the ropes to maneuver the little
brat.  The head of the dildo was pushed against the girl's tightly-clenched
asshole, then the sitter shoved it right on in, making the girl squeak so loud
and high-pitched the sitter's ears hurt.  The brat squeezed her eyes shut,
sobbing as much as possible around the gag.

        "You see," murmured the sitter as she gripped the tiny ass cheeks so
tight her nails dug into the soft flesh, thrusting the dildo as deeply as
possible, "you--are a bitch.  This body, you lost the right to it.  You lost the
right to everything.  Do you understand me?"

        The girl didn't seem to hear her, but that really wasn't important, so
the teenager pressed on--both literally and figuratively.  "You--are now a toy.
A thing.  Something to be used as is wanted--and judging from how your asshole
is grabbing this thing, you'll be wanted quite often."  She grinned down at the
girl as she squeezed her ass cheeks even harder.

        Finally she pulled out and let the girl's ass fall to the bed.  The
strap-on was removed, wrapped in the strips of the brat's pajamas then returned
to the backpack.  The teen then put one leg on the bed, keeping the other on
the floor so she could lean and have her freshly-shaved pussy a few inches above
the girl's face.

        She masturbated furiously, plunging her fingers into her cunt as she
tweaked her clitoris, soon gasping and shuddering.  It didn't take long, at all,
for her to reach orgasm, and she sprayed the girl's face and chest with her
cum.

        Collapsing onto the bed next to the girl, she tenderly kissed the brat's
cheeks and licked at her own cum.  "Just wait, bitch," she hissed right into the
girl's ear. "Soon you'll be a toy for a real man--that's an honor you don't
deserve, but one you have anyway."

        She reached down and stroked the girl's pussy and asshole with her
fingertips, then wiped the girl's blood on her forehead.  Since there was some
time on the C.D. left, she let her tongue drag over the girl's stomach, smiling
at the way her body shivered.  Fear?  Cold?  Pain?  Who knew, really?  Who
cared?

        Slipping down the bed she started lapping at the girl's pussy, nibbling
on the lips between plunges of her tongue deeply into the child.  "Mmm," she
muttered, "you taste good for a bitch.  Maybe I'll be lucky and geet to teach
you to eat pussy, hmm?  I think you'd like that.  I know I would."

        Looking at the stereo, she realized she didn't have much time left,
and with an almost sorrowful sigh she got up from the bed and picked up her
shirt--then paused.

        "Oh," she said, putting one leg on the bed, like she did before.  This
time she crouched enough to have her pussy hovering directly over the girl's
face.  After a beat, a golden stream of piss splurted from her cunt, splashing
over the brat's face and running through her hair, down her neck, even running
over her chest.

        "Ahhhhh," sighed the teenager in contentment as the stream started to
lessen.  When it stopped fully, she grabbed a stuffed teddy bear from the
dresser to wipe herself with, then tossed the soiled thing aside.

        Humming pleasantly to herself, she dressed, smoothing out her shirt
before glancing at the stereo.  "I'll be back for you later, bitch," she
murmured to the girl with a lift of her eyebrows.  With that, the C.D. stopped.
After gathering everything up, she slipped out of the room, careful to not let
the camera see anything.

        She spent the next few hours in the living room, flipping through more
magazines.  Apparently the brat's parents subscribed to quite a few, but of the
more intellectual or exotic ones.  And they were obviously read through, the
teenager mused as she noticed the slight signs of wear.  Figures that the
parents would be intelligent.  She wouldn't have been sent after an idiot.

        Finally she put the magazines aside and grabbed the stereo again, this
time taking a music C.D. before heading back to the girl's bedroom.  Knocking
softly, she said, "Are you awake yet, honey?  Oh, can I come in?  Thank you."

        Slipping into the room, she grinned as she closed the door behind her,
meeting the terrified and confused look in the girl's eyes with a rather merry
look of her own.  "Look at what you did!" she exclaimed, sounding shocked,
though the widening grin was safely hidden from the camera by the closed door.
"Well we can't have that.  And I thought you were doing so well, too, honey.
Well, alright, let's get you cleaned up, I guess."

        After untying the girl, she cut the tape from her wrists with the knife,
then hissed in her ear, "A sound, a word, ANYthing--you will hurt for it.  Do.
I.  Make.  Myself.  CLEAR."  A nod from the girl, then the sitter kissed her
piss-soaked cheek.  "Good bitch."

        The gag was removed, the sock tossed aside, the strips of tape wadded up
with the rest and shoved into a pocket.  After gathering up the bedding, she
opened the bedroom door, saying, "Okay, now march.  Bathroom."  Mutely the girl
headed to the bathroom, and before entering, herself.

        The girl sat mutely through the bathing, for the first time not even
offering a hint of her former defiance.  The sitter sung a few children's songs
as she bathed the brat, exuding glee.  Once she was out of the tub she was dried
off, then the sitter opened the door.  "Go get your brush and wait for me on the
couch in the front room, okay?  Just that--get the brush then go to the couch."
The girl nodded once, then padded naked to her bedroom.

        The sitter gathered up the bedding and took it to the laundry room,
putting the comforter by itself in the washing machine first.  Once everything
was set and the machine started, she headed to the front room, pleased to see
that the girl listened.  She was still naked, and sat on the couch, staring
blankly at the television, though it was still turned off.

        The teenager gave the brat a kiss on her forehead then took the brush
from her and told her to turn sideways.  Sitting behind her, the sitter brushed
the girl's hair, humming to herself.

        The girl didn't say anything for the rest of the day, and went to bed
without a fuss.  The sitter was, as usual, sitting in the front room looking
through magazines when the parents came home that evening.  As was counted on,
they hadn't watched the video feed all day.  They trusted the sitter, after all.

        The sitter filled the parents in, relating with lament how the girl
seemed to take a nap in the afternoon without a problem, only to be found later
having pissed the bed out of spite.  She also said how the girl shouldn't be
allowed to have her clothing yet; the next day was Sunday, so no school.  The
teen said she'd happily come over if the parents wanted another day to relax,
and after the wife glanced at the feed and saw what the child had purportedly
done, they agreed.  They'd come to almost rely on the sitter for their own
sanity.  As much outright hell as that little girl had raised, they believed she
was capable of doing anything out of spite.  She'd certainly done much worse.

        The next day was a re-run of the day before.  The girl was bound on her
bed and fucked, hard, only it was more than once.  The parents had called and
asked if they could come later--perhaps closer to the early morning?  The sitter
only too happily said it wasn't a problem.

        When it came time to go to bed, the sitter took the naked girl into the
room, shutting the door.  When the brat saw the look on her face, her own face
fell.

        "I must say, bitch," murmured the sitter as she started the recording
that always played during their sessions, "you're doing better than I thought
you would.  I think you've earned a treat--a gift."

        The girl looked up from beneath her lashes, eyes hinting at curiosity.

        "If you can be very quiet, and if you can help me--I'll fuck you without
tying you down."  Without realizing she was doing it, the girl grabbed each
wrist in turn, rubbing at the memory of the tight, chaffing tape.

        "How does that sound, bitch?" asked the teenager.  "Are you ready to be
fucked?"

        The girl finally nodded once, and the sitter beamed a grin.  "Good girl.
Now, you're going to help me, remember, and you can't make a sound.  Not a
sound."

        The child helped the sitter put on the strap-on, then the teen directed
the girl to get the lube and coat the dildo with it.  After it glistened
brightly, the teenager laid back on the bed and had the girl climb up to stand
on the bed with her feet on either side of the older girl's waist.

        "Okay, now start to sit down," directed the teen, hands behind her head.
"When you feel the cock touch your pussy, stop."  The girl did so, and the teen
said, "Good bitch.  Now take it in your hand--that's right.  Push it into your
hole--there you go.  Now sit down, quickly so your pussy gets filled."

        Emitting the softest of squeals, the girl did so, tears brimming once
more.  Sniffling, chest shuddering, she looked at the teenager.  "Good, good,"
the older girl cooed.  "You're going to be a good slut for us, oh yes.  Now,
start to get up--hey, you remember.  Good girl.  That's right, only leave the
tip of it.  Yes, good--up and down."

        The child worked herself along the dildo, up and down, up and down,
keeping her eyes on the teenager's.  The sitter's gaze flicked between the
child's pussy and eyes.

        Finally, the teenager had her stop and pull herself off, saying, "You
know what to do next?  That's right.  Good bitch."  The girl had moved a little
so the head of the dildo rested against her asshole.  "You learn quickly.  Now,
sit down on it, hard."  Obediantly, the girl plunged her hips down, managing to
turn the scream into a squeak by biting her lip.

        Without having to be told, she immediately started moving her asshole up
and down the dildo, while the sitter watched.  Her eyes were tear-filled slits;
she tried to keep them open to look at the teenager for direction--but it
obviously hurt like hell.

        The teen sighed contentedly and settled her head into her hands, smiling
at the brat.  She let the girl fuck her asshole onto the dildo for a good three
or four minutes, then sighed and said, "Alright, bitch, off.  And get on the
floor."  The girl did so, then the sitter sat up and got off of the bed.

        After having the bitch help her remove the strap-on, then kneel on the
floor, hands on her thighs.  The girl knew what came next--what always came
next.

        As the teenager masturbated, she panted, "I'm--not allowed to--to teach
you to eat pussy--just yet--but I--WILL get that pr--privilege, I--I was--was
told...."  She barely got that last syllable out before she came, and as she
bit off a squeal she coated the girl's face and body in her cum, the ooze
running down the soft skin in thick rivulets.

        When it finally ended, she collapsed back on the bed, laying limply and
panting.  The child, dutifully, didn't move, even though she could only open one
eye.  After a few moments she raised her head.  "Next time," she breathed,
"it'll be even better.  Until then...."

        Sitting up she spread her thighs once more, scooting so her ass hung off
the edge of the bed a little.  After a moment, a thick stream of piss shot out
and hit the child in the face.  A little wriggling of hips let the sitter aim it
so it hit her hair, her body, her legs.

        After the last drops fell to the carpet, she murmured, "Go get
something--get that shirt."  She motioned to the T-shirt in the closet, the one
she happened to know was the child's favorite.  Obediently, the girl retrieved
the blue T-shirt.  "Now wipe me clean, bitch," said the sitter.

        The child did so carefully, being thorough under careful direction.
Once she was done, the teenager cupped her chin and tilted her head up so their
lips could meet.  Her tongue was forced into the child's mouth, and the sitter
moaned softly, tasting her cum and piss on the child's lips.

        "Good bitch," she whispered, smiling sincerely.


                               ONE WEEK LATER...


        "My dad owns a cabin in the woods, just outside of town," said the
sitter one morning.  "Your daughter is doing better, as I think you'll agree--"
the parents both agreed so quickly they cut each other off.  The child had never
been so manageable.  She hardly ever fussed, and remembered to call her mother
"ma'am" and her father "sir".

        The parents chuckled at cutting each other off, then let the sitter
continue.  Grinning, she said, "Yes, anyway--my dad owns a cabin.  Now, I think
what your daughter needs is some time to just--be a kid, you know?  She's doing
better, so maybe we could reward her.  I think--I really do--if I can take her
up to that cabin for, say, a month--you'd never have another problem with her."

        The parents talked about that.  The sitter certainly couldn't be denied
in that the child was doing better, and because she WAS doing better--maybe she
did deserve a reward.  She'd stopped being allowed clothes on the sitter's
suggestion, and that certainly seemed to help.  The child seemed a bit more
respectful when she was given something--it could (and probably would) be taken
away at a moment's notice, so she started to appreciate things more.

        "A month?" murmured the mother, archiing a brow.  She didn't sound
completely put off of the idea, however.  The sitter well knew that the memories
of the child's tantrums and even rage were fresh.

        "Yes.  Just her and me.  A phone call away if you need, or you can drop
by unannounced if you like.  I've stayed there alone before, and the general
store a half-mile away is owned by a very friendly elderly woman who always
makes the time to come by.  This would let your daughter not have to worry--
about school, pleasing you, anything else.  She's been doing so good."

        The parents discussed it a little bit more, quietly amongst each other.
The teenager noticed the wife's hand flick toward her stomach, a movement very
telling--as if it was kept from moving and rubbing that stomach.  After a few
moments, they sat straighter on the couch, and the husband cleared his throat
softly.

        "I--we--think you're right.  She's--you've done so much more with her
than either of us thought possible.  And--we're happy you'd be willing to take
her with you for a month.  Are--are you sure you don't want to be paid?"

        "Oh, quite sure," said the sitter with a small laugh and a dismissive
wave of the hand.  "It wouldn't be a girl's vacation if I were paid, now would
it?"  Grinning a little shyly, the parents had to agree.

        A selling point was that it was a birthday--she had almost always been
her absolute worst on her birthday.  Though both parents looked like they felt
incredibly guilty, the sitter saw that they likely were still afraid of her
backsliding from her "progress" on that day.

        The preparations were made--she was officially pulled out of school (not
that anyone there minded--she had been, before the sitter, only marginally
better there than at home) for an indefinite period (a hitch in their computers
meant return dates couldn't yet be implemented), and the sitter helped the child
pack a bag.

        "You're going to be a good little bitch, right?" she murmured.  "You're
going to be a good little toy for my Master, aren't you?"  The girl only nodded,
making the sitter grin.  "I knew you would.  You're becoming a good little bitch
after all."  She kissed the corner of the girl's mouth lightly, then finished
packing the girl's belongings.

        That evening, just after sunset, the parents dropped the girls off at
the cabin.  The teenager dragged the bags in while the girl and the parents
looked around.  It was very open, airy, inside, high ceilings, no real walls,
and so on.  It had that rustic air about it, from the hand-woven rugs here and
there, blankets with reds and blues the primary colors on the sole bed, and so
on.

        After the parents bid the girls goodbye and hugged their daughter, they
left.  "Alright, bitch," said the teen, "get those clothes off now.  And say
goodbye to them because you're never going to need clothes again."  As the child
stripped, so did the teenager.

        "Ah, finally," she said, stretching her nude form.  "Alright, come on."

        The girl followed her to the center of the cabin.  "Kneel here, head
down--touch your chin to your chest.  Good bitch.  I'll be right back."  She
rummaged around her jeans and pulled out her cell phone, making a quick call.
It lasted less then twenty seconds, then the teen was by the child, kneeling as
well.  The positions were almost identical--submissive, heads bowed, hands on
thighs.

        The teen said nothing, and the girl knew better than to ask anything.
After around ten minutes, the cabin door opened, and footsteps casually made
their way through.  An older, quite naked, man stood before them.

        "Up," he said firmly, and the teen shot to her feet.  The girl was a
hair's breadth behind her.  "So, this is he newest one, cunt?"

        "Yes, Master," said the teen, keeping her head bowed.  "She is as ready
as I was allowed to make her."

        "Good, good.  Alright, let's take a look."  The man crouched and
inspected the child, turning her head this way and that, moving an arm,
spreading her ass cheeks, parting her thighs and poking around her pussy.

        "She's a good piece of meat," he said at last, tone actually of
appreciation.  "But is she a good toy?"

        "May I be allowed to display her?"

        "Of course," said the man, then headed over to the bed.  He laid back
on it, hands behind his head.  The teen led the child over, and she could see
that he was her father, just from looking at him.  He was also already getting
quite hard, watching the two females.

        Leaning close to the girl, the teen hissed, "Remember what to do, bitch,
and don't let your Master down."

        The child climbed up onto the bed, remembering well what to do.  She
straddled the man and lowered herself, then took his cock and placed its tip
against her hairless pussy.  Biting her lip to stave off the exclamation, she
thrust her hips down, tears welling up once more.  By now, they were ignored, as
common as they'd become.

        Immediately she started moving up and down along the man's shaft, and he
groaned softly.  "You did well, cunt..." he whispered to the teen, who was
obviously pleased with the compliment.

        After only a few moments, he said, "Wait--move on."

        Without hesitation, the girl slid off of his cock and shifted a little,
placing the head against her asshole.  This time, he grabbed her hips and
forcibly pulled her down.  The surprise made her unable to stave it off, and
she screamed aloud at the pain.

        He pulled her along his shaft, hips moving up to meet her ass as it was
yanked down.  His grunts came deeper, harsher, until he pulled her off of him
and shoved back into her pussy, gasping as he orgasmed and pumped his cum into
the child.  This was new, this was different, but she knew better than to do
anything but accept it.

        When his orgasm subsided, he let the girl fall to the bed, where she
laid still, waiting to see what she should do next.  Without any prompting, the
teen hurried onto the bed and swallowed her father's cock, noisily cleaning
every inch of it.

        When she was done she looked to her father, who said, "Now her.  And she
can begin her training."  The teen grinned and scampered over to the child,
putting her on her back so her legs could be spread.  The teen eagerly bent over
started suckling on the tiny pussy, lapping up her father's cum with what could
only be described as delight.

        "Mmm, her pussy tastes good, Master," murmured the teen, making her
father chuckle.  It really wasn't long at all before the child's pussy and
thighs were licked clean.

        Sliding up the child's body, she moved so her forehead gently touched
the girl's.  "Now you need to learn how to kiss, okay?  It's how you do it
unless your Master says otherwise."

        The girl nodded, then the teen kissed her again, once more forcing her
lips apart with her tongue.  To her credit, the girl tried her best to mimic the
girl's movements, flicking her tongue against the teen's.  When the kiss ended,
the teen murmured, "Good little bitch," against the child's lips.  There was a
flicker in the brat's eyes, recognition of doing good, being pleasing.

        "Now you need to learn to eat pussy," said the teen, drawing back to lay
back on the bed and spread her legs.  She beckoned the child over with a curling
finger, and the girl moved to lay between her legs like the teen had just done
to her.

        "Good, now start by licking the outside--yeah, good girl."  Her hips
started to move a little in response to the sensation.  "Now lick deeper--that's
a good girl."

        She picked it up quickly.  Everything the teen told her to do, she did
and, for a first-timer, did it rather well.  She didn't even mind the taste; it
occured to her that this was her life, now, and she needed to be pleasing, to
avoid any more punishment.  The teen was brought to orgasm, and she grabbed the
girl's head to grind her crotch into the child's face.  Without even having to
be told, the child tried to lap up the teen's cum, not stopping until the teen
pushed her away.

        Over the next month, she was used on a daily basis, by men and women of
all ages.  She was the new toy, and all the men took at least a few turns,
usually even allowing their girls to partake also.  Up until the last week, she
had only gotten out of bed to use the toilet.

        She was a good toy, all things considered, always doing her best to
please her user of the moment.  In a week she was as close to an expert at
kissing as could be asked for, and she was a champion pussy eater in two.

        There was an unexpected knock at the door, at the start of that last
week.  The head of this little outfit answered the door, finding a man smiling
on the other side.  At his feet was a naked girl, kneeling, who couldn't have
been older than five or six.

        He introduced himself, politely exchanging a firm handshake, then said,
"Sir, I represent an organization who, I think, you will definitely want to hear
about.  If I may come in...?"


                                       THE END...?

