  ====================
   The Reins of Power
  ====================    ----------------------
                       by  Jean-Michel Maserati
                          ----------------------
Warning
=======
Just to make it perfectly clear up front. This tale contains explicit sex scenes; if you find such 
descriptions offensive, I suggest you leave the site now. Also, if for any reason whatsoever you 
should not be permitted access to this material (for example, due to your age and/or the laws of 
the area where you either live or are currently staying) then you should quit now. I can and will 
take no responsibility for any consequences if you don't.

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The death of old Simeon Waterstaff had resulted in a very nasty little war of succession. All sorts 
of groupings were eager to fill the vacuum left when the biggest wheel in the area was 
unexpectedly taken out of the equation. And not by anything untoward, either - he succumbed to 
a perfectly ordinary heart attack. So, for a short while, all his lieutenants had been looking to take 
the largest possible slice of his inheritance, while combining to try to ward off the attempts of 
other outside groups to muscle in and get a piece of the action. Lord knows I'm not exactly 
whiter than white myself, but some of the things going on there were really beyond the pale. It 
was a period of six vicious months which I honestly feared I might not live through - so many 
people were disappearing or simply being shot down. Simeon had been unique: he dealt with 
both the Pakistanis and the Chinese, without pissing either off. He was respected by both the 
Russian and Italian mobs. He let the volatile Jamaicans have their bit of the trade, never coming 
to a fight with the people he really considered dangerous. And crucial to his power base were the 
big - but lucrative - payoffs to the assiduously cultivated law enforcement officers and other 
authorities in the area: nobody else screwed with Waterstaff, or you might find your best men 
being arrested. And lastly of course, Simeon didn't antagonize the underworld leaders from the 
neighbouring cities: he had his patch, he stuck to it, and he ruled it like a king.

Well, to cut a long story short, the position of trust that I had built up inside the old man's 
organization stood me in good stead. It took half a year or more before a new status quo emerged. 
And I was on top - the situation was far from perfect, but slowly settling. Three others of 
Simeon's top men had left the scene: Severin had eliminated Peters rather bloodily, after which 
the rest of us had decided he was a loose cannon we didn't need... may he rest in peace. Kelly had 
overstepped the mark with some dragon-tattooed dealer and had lost his head - literally. And a 
couple of others had decided to exit stage left of their own free will, once I had threatened to 
disclose their own extra-curricular activities; Simeon wouldn't have been so merciful and they 
knew it.
More worrying was that Fat Alfie, whose patch bordered over half my territory, was sticking his 
finger in the pie: he was responsible for the plod not doing what they were told any more, I was 
certain, as well as stoking the fires with the bloody Tongs or whatever they were (another 
distraction I didn't need).  But I handled it all in the end, I think...

The last piece of the jigsaw was Walker. He had been a very naughty boy, I had found out. Not 
only did he have his undoubtedly perfectly good salary as a chief superintendent plus a healthy 
bit of graft from Simeon, the greedy chap had been on the take from Alfie too, as well as going 
into business for himself trying to dispose of the stuff his men had confiscated from my suppliy 
lines. He needed to be taught a lesson, tamed, brought back into line. Tricky though: even 
Simeon couldn't have just whacked a top copper and reckoned to get away with it. And 
outbidding the others wasn't going to work: this guy was too greedy, he'd keep upping the stakes. 
It's a question of finding the way to unlock the man... and I knew just how to do it. I keep tabs on 
everybody.

--------

We met early one evening as usual at the meat packing plant. I was playing mind games: Simeon 
had always used the director's office there at the meat factory, and so now I'd do the same - 
sitting in his old chair, at the same desk, turning up in the same Jag he had favoured. We'd had a 
meaningless chat, and then gone off from the luxurious office into the huge cold store to handle 
business as the old man had always done: a simple spartan table, a few chairs, steaming coffee. 
Businesslike. No chance of any bugs.  And an abattoir floor gets routinely covered in blood, is 
routinely washed down. And this was big enough to keep your men in line of sight, without them 
being close enough to overhear. Simeon's traditional, familiar pattern.

That smarmy fucker Walker was upping the price he wanted from me, denying some of his other 
activites (even though the fat man from the next patch along had told me face to face what was 
going on when we'd patched up our differences). He just sat there smugly in his thick sheepskin 
coat, sipping my coffee and brandy, playing it cool. He didn't realise the trouble he was in until I 
gave a pre-arranged hand signal to Tommy and Wiz, who came up behind him menacingly.
He began to bluster in confusion as they stood him up and removed his overcoat, then his suit 
jacket and tie. What was going on - we couldn't treat him like this - he only was asking for his 
fair share - what point were we trying to make - and so on.

I sat back on the cheap plastic seat, feeling the back bend precariously, taking my time and letting 
him start to feel the cold (the point of the exercise - more power games, that was all).
"Walker," I said, blowing out a plume of smoke and sipping the rapidly cooling coffee. "You just 
haven't got the message, have you, you brainless plonker?" He scowled at the insult, but my men 
were ready and waiting should be lose his cool. "You're off Alfie's payroll," I continued. "Your 
own little sideline is going to stop, or you'll have the Jamaicans on your back" and they're not so 
squeamish as I am." He was suddenly starting to look frightened instead of confident - the ruddy 
face beneath the fading blond hair going paler. "And your take from my payroll is going to be 
halved: if I can't trust you, we'll just give you enough to keep you quiet." He spluttered and 
objected indignantly throughout this, but I ignored him.
"And just to make sure, my boys have gotten a little surprise for you."

In fact, it turned out that Tommy had gilded the lily a bit, made it rather more than I had said. 
He's got a feeling for how to make people feel stupid, a real psychologist I reckon. So, to my 
mild surprise, the first thing that happened was that one of the Eastern European whores from 
Tommy's club appeared, all dressed in a warm fur coat, but open at the front revealing that she 
had nothing else but a choker on underneath. Walker wasn't impressed (presumably thinking we 
were videoing the proceedings somwehere to blackmail him later, or something, don't ask me) 
but my lads left him no choice: he had to stand there while this peroxide blonde tart unbuttoned 
his shirt, then undid his trousers and boxers and pulled them down to his ankles and proceeded to 
give him an expert blow job while I repeated the instructions about his future. It's difficult to 
argue when it's zero degrees and you're standing there virtually naked with a gun in your ear and 
a scantily clad hooker sucking on your dick.
Then the real surprise, the one to put the frighteners on him. The meat conveyor started up with a 
series of clunks and squeaks and twenty feet away from us the carcasses began to move. Each 
one swinging out a little before whipping round to head off down the line.
The prostitute had timed it perfectly. Just as he was about to come, the sixth hook swung into 
view. No dead pig or cow on this one: hanging from it by her wrists was a teenage girl in school 
uniform. His daughter, bound and gagged. Walker pulled jerkily out of the hooker's mouth, 
semen still coming; his attempt to turn away only making him trip up over the trousers round his 
ankles and fall heavily. The Slavic girl with the fake fair hair, clearly enjoying the moment, spat 
the rest of his load out all over his shirt, then rinsed her mouth out with some coffee. She stood 
for a few seconds facing me (and the youngster suspended from the hooks) silently, with her 
hands on her hips and making no further effort to cover up her nakedness under the black fur 
coat. I gave her a smile and a little nod - she'd done well; a mental note to remind Tommy to give 
her a bonus of some sort.

The others left. I just sat there, listening to the not-so-touching scene as Walker pulled himself 
together somehow and went over to his terrified daughter. He was trying partly to bluff his way 
out, partly to deny he was in cahoots with these known criminals, partly to ask whether she was 
all right...
The poor youngster was wide-eyed with fright, not only from the original kidnap but I guess also 
from seeing a new side of her supposedly law-abiding family-man masonic-handshake Daddy. 
Naked, with his prick in a hooker's mouth, consorting with known criminals, cheating on her 
mother. Walker moved to take the duct tape off her mouth, but I called out to him to leave it: not 
for any particular reason, just asserting who was boss again. I lit another cigarette and gave them 
a couple of minutes, just thinking how ridiculously easy it had been.

My files had told me that Alexandra May Walker, sixteen and in her GCSE year, was at a very 
posh public school, for very well brought-up young ladies with well-to-do parents. Well, it was 
no surprise Superintendent Walker had some pretty expensive tastes: he'd been on Simeon's 
payroll for nearly twenty years, by my reckoning - and he'd done nicely from it, too. Some early 
busts helping Waterstaff make his way to the top had made Walker quite a celebrity at one point, 
and he'd married a rather beautiful redheaded TV news presenter... that kind of wife is a high-
maintenance object as well, of course, not to mention house, a pretty young child who was the 
apple of her father's eye, schooling, holidays, you name it. Well, he'd gotten too greedy: might 
have to economize now. Still, for me, having the girl at a school so close at hand had been useful. 
And a posh place like that didn't think twice about letting one of their pupils go off with the two 
policemen (getting hold of a fake squad car and a couple of uniforms and Ids was no trouble for a 
useful man like Wiz). Yes Sir, of course Sir, we know Daddy's a top copper so it's not so 
surprising a police car comes to pick up his darling girl...
Once outside the gate, a quick dab of chloroform and half an hour later she's coming round 
slowly, duct tape round wrists and aknles and over her mouth, hanging from the meat-hooks in 
the cold and dark, scared shitless, desperately uncomfortable. And then faced with seeing her 
Daddy in a totally new light: a subservient and frightened figure.

I listened to him talking to her, saying he was sorry, how it would have to be a secret, that they 
must pretend that this evening had simply never happened, he was really sorry, these men were 
very dangerous and she shouldn't antagonize them, that he was oh so sorry...
I had heard enough. I called out to him. "All right Walker, that's enough. Now piss off and think 
yourself lucky you're still on half pay."
He all but ran out of the warehouse.

--------

Once he was gone, I lifted the trembling girl down off the hook, holding her over my shoulder 
like a sack of potatoes. She was still bound up, and clearly rather cold, so I carried her back to the 
warm director's office in the adjoining building. I sat her on the big red leather semicircular sofa 
in the bay window, undid her hands and put a warming drink next to her while I went off for a 
piss and then came back to make a couple of phone calls to my paymaster and so forth - putting 
Walker's demotion into immediate effect, bringing Fat Alfie up to date, telling the lads outside 
they could go home for the evening and I'd run Alexandra back to school in the Jag later, since it 
was almost on the way home for me. The kidnap had served it purpose; I could let her go now.
"No, Tommy, I'm going to take the girl. Just warm her up a bit first. You go have some fun at the 
club - I'll catch you later. Or in the morning."
The school was only twenty minutes away, and coincidentally barely five from my country house 
and I could easily stay there.
"OK boss. Shall I ring one of the clubs and get them to send a couple of girls round there?" He 
was right; seeing Tanya performing sexual acts like that with Walker had left me feeling a little 
horny.
"Yeah, treat myself to a bit of fun. Celebrate having gotten this problem fixed. Tell you what, I'll 
take sort out the girl here first and let you know later."
"Fine boss. See you in the morning."
"Cheers."

I poured a last coffee for myself, gave the sullen young blonde another cup which she accepted 
gratefully, and sat opposite her. I gave her a cigarette too, when she reached out for the packet - 
odd; I'd not have though Walker would let her smoke. Maybe he didn't, but sixteen year olds 
have a tendency to make up their own minds about these things.
I tried to chat a little, but she was still very scared. Her answers were curt and monosyllabic, 
though polite. She kept calling me 'Sir', which amused me. Like her dad's junior officers or 
something. She may not have known exactly who I was, but she'd got the picture: an underworld 
figure who could order a high cop about like that was definitely scary.
"Warmed up a bit now, Alexandra?" I finally asked her. "Lexy," I corrected myself - the 
preferred short form of her name being one of the few things I'd gotten out of her in the last ten 
minutes.
"S'pose so, yes, Sir," she said looking at the floor. "What next?"
I smiled.  "I'm going to take you for a little ride, my dear."
She looked at the floor, shaking her head very gently.
"Come on, girl," I said kindly. "Aren't you ready for it yet?"
She looked up, staring not at me but fixing her big blue eyes on a point on the wall above my 
head, seemingly on the verge of tears. Her slightly thin lips were pursed into a tight line, the 
muscles round her jawline tensing as she clenched her teeth.
"Lexy, I can call the fake coppers back if you'd rather. I'm sure they'd oblige."
The teenager's eyes widened, and she shook her head vigorously, pale blonde locks swishing 
from side to side. I remembered her mother from the TV - very similar sharply-defined and 
pointed features. But redheaded: Alexandra had gotten her height at athleticism and pale blonde 
colouring from her father, that was for sure. "No Sir, no," she said quickly. "Please, I don't..."
I held up a placating hand. "All right, I'll take you on my own. Willingly though, please. No fuss. 
Remember, I can't make you come."
I downed my coffee and stood up, car keys in hand.
"Right. Time for some action."

------

What I saw was action of a sort I hadn't expected. Alexandra sat looking at the floor for a 
moment, then said, "Very well. I haven't much choice, have I?"
"Nope."
She stood up, taking off first her black school uniform blazer and then removing the red 
waistcoat-style cardigan beneath it, before starting fumbling with the buttons of her prim white 
blouse. For a moment I just thought she was straightening herself up, but then I was nonplussed 
to see that she was actually unbuttoning it.
"He said I had to pretend tonight never happened," she said as if to herself, her voice on the edge 
of cracking. "You heard him. Do whatever they tell you. A secret..."
Tears were running softly down her cheeks as she carefully untucked the blouse from her dark 
grey skirt and opened it at the front to reveal a lithe and slender torso with not an excess ounce of 
fat on the frame, and a plain white cross-your-heart type bra over her petite but beautifully shaped 
breasts.
"What next, Sir?"

I was gobsmacked. Astounded. Flabbergasted.

Then it sank in. Her father's admonitions, combined with her fear, probably with all sorts of 
things she'd been told at the girls' school or by her mother warning her about What Men Want. 
And she was certainly highly attractive - probably had enough young lads interested in her by 
now to be well aware of the fact. And the sexual nature of the tableau in the cold store. It all 
added up: Alexandra believed she had been brought up to the plush office so that the boss man 
could rape her. An extra perk of the job for him, another expression of the control he held over 
the Walker family. She had reluctantly decided that cooperation was the least of the evils on 
offer.

I tried to remember exactly what I'd been saying.
"I'm going to take the girl - you guys have your good time at the club..."
"Treat myself to a bit of fun."
"I'm going to take you for a little ride..."
"Aren't you ready for it yet?"
"I can call the fake coppers back if you'd rather. I'm sure they'd oblige."
"I'll take you myself. Willingly though, please. No fuss."
"Remember, I can't make you come."
"Let's see some action."

Jesus, she'd gotten completely the wrong end of the stick. In spades. Be a good girl and go to bed 
with this man, or face gang rape by him and his henchmen. So by getting up and starting to 
undress, she'd made her choice.

I began to realize that I could do whatever I wanted with this youngster. And indeed - what better 
way to finish off Walker than to make damaged goods out of the one thing he held most dear? 
And she'd already said she knew it had to be kept quiet. Oh my God, this was a glorious feeling. 
What a stupendous sense of power. I looked across at her. Why not? Why not indeed - she was 
every bit as pretty as any of the girls I could have called on: a bit on the slender side, but well 
shaped. I preferred that to the girls at the clubs, who were either big-titted slappers or skinny 
heroin whores from the Balkans. A treat indeed!

But it was a dilemma nonetheless. I'm a hard and uncompromising man living in a tough and 
ruthless world: we're used to the threat of violence, the risk of imprisonment, money and drugs, 
plenty of birds in the clubs if I wanted a nice simple fuck for the night. We thought nothing of 
arranging a beating, paying off the fuzz, walking around armed as a matter of routine. But one 
thing we didn't do was interfere with other people's womenfolk, take advantage of them. That 
leads to vendettas. And in the milieu and in the jails and on the streets, the lowest of the low are 
the child abusers. This girl was sixteen and legal, by just a few weeks, but nonetheless - standing 
there in her black and red school uniform and white blouse and socks, she looked like a young 
kid. Tempting as she was, it would ruin my reputation if I were to be thought of as a child rapist.

I had to be careful.

--------

"What next, Sir?" she repeated anxiously, bringing me out of my reverie.
God, she was cute. I was being offered pussy on a plate, it had the added advantage of hurting 
that bastard Walker... I decided to play it for what it was worth.
"Glad to see you've made the sensible decision, Lexy," I said. "Crossing me isn't a good move, 
as your father is now probably all too uncomfortably aware. Not just a pretty face."
I looked the teenage schoolgirl up and down.
"Hmm. Lose the blouse, blondie, and drop the skirt. Then we can see what kind of a figure 
you've got."
She bit her lip and obeyed hesitantly - knowing there was much more and much worse to come - 
and stood there embarrassed and uncertain in her plain white underwear while a man she didn't 
know sized her up. Apart from white ankle socks and shiny black shoes, the only things she had 
on apart from her undies were here jewelry and the silk scarf in red and black (the school colours) 
that was still round her neck. Alexandra Walker was quite tall, perhaps five eight, and had long 
slimb limbs with an even tan (more expensive holidays I'd paid for, no doubt) and a delicate 
elegance and balanced poise and motion that I would more normally have associated with an 
older woman. But the narrow waist and hips showed she was still a youngster. Flat stomach, 
slightly protruding hipbones: some teenagers have puppy-fat, others are thin - she was in the 
latter group. A very pretty little thing.
"You'll do nicely."
Then I saw the goose pimples on her arms. It wasn't exactly warm here, so I thought I'd give her 
a minute to calm down. Simeon had a shower en-suite from his office: the abattoir workers 
needed them, so it had cost almost nothing extra to put a little branch pipework up to his office 
too.
"Okay, blondie. I'm going to take a shower here next door - it's been a long tough day and I need 
it. You draw the curtains - that'll help it get warmer here - and crank the thermostat up as far as 
you like.  The canteen's over opposite that door: make some more coffee and so on, see what you 
can find for us to eat." I grinned at her from the doorway as I went towards the little bathroom. 
"Do you want to be the aperitif or the dessert?"
Blushing furiously, she turned away and picked up her blouse.
"Leave that, Walker" I called out, consciously echoing the words she'd heard me use to her 
father. "Your underwear is more than enough for me. Get used to it - maybe make the next step 
easier."

--------

I had my shower, and indeed by the time I came back into the office wearing just a navy blue 
towelling housecoat, the place was much warmer. I sat back on Simeon's big red leather swivel 
chair while Alexandra obediently trotted round pouring me a coffee and a brandy.
I made her stop and kiss me. Wel, she was no expert but at least she knew what it was about. And 
the feel of that soft warm skin and the delicate musculature beneath my fingers - absolutely 
delectable. My fingers ran up and down her arms and over her shoulders, but I left it at that for 
now. Plenty of time. The young blonde was no longer quite so self-conscious of her provocative 
state of undress, bringing in a bottle of wine and a couple of beers and various sandwiches she'd 
been able to make from the bits and pieces in the refrigerator, coming over to the desk for another 
quick kiss and cuddle when told to do so. She didn't even object much to a playful slap on the 
bum as she left again to fetch the cutlery.
A new idea crossed my mind. "Alexandra? Lexy?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Are you a virgin?"
Silence, extending a couple of seconds. Just sixteen, middle-class parents, well brought-up, at the 
right school... not like the girls in the tough area where I'd grown up, or the prematurely 
experience call girls in my bars and clubs or the desperate hookers coming in off the streets or 
from the old Iron Curtain countries. I'd not popped a cherry in probably twenty years... and 
Alexandra surely would be.
"Yes." In a very small voice, she confirmed my guess. So much for me needing a condom - she'd 
be clean (I wasn't exactly bothered about protecting her) and I could have the increasingly rare 
and natural pleasure of going in bareback.
"Well, in that case I'll save that pleasure till dessert," I smiled. It would let her have a glass or 
two of Dutch courage if she wanted. However, I had a monstrous erection that didn't want to 
wait.

"But now for the aperitif," I said, beckoning her over to the desk. Her blue eyes widened, but she 
obeyed, standing there opposite me.
"Sit on the edge. Facing away. Now lie back." Her head came over the edge of the desk, long 
blonde locks cascading almost to the floor, her arms coming naturally over her head to hold the 
arms of my chair. I stroked her long arms, then knelt on the floor so that our faces were level, but 
hers was upside down. Made for an interesting kiss. I could stroke her face, kiss her pale 
extended neck, and then work my way down her body as I stood up, hands over the collar bones, 
round the outside of the ribcage, featherlight over the taut material of her white bra, feeling her 
stiffen and hold her breath until my roving fingertips retreated.
I stood back and unloosened the sash of the housecoat.
She was at the perfect height. "Open your mouth."
She shook her head and made as if to get up, but a hand on either shoulder made that impossible. 
She bowed to the inevitable.
The blue material fell heavily apart and my young virgin prize was treated to her first close-up of 
a man's erection, just inches from her face. She squealed, but didn't dare move away.
"Just be glad I had a shower," I laughed. "You know you're supposed to suck, eh? Even though 
it's called a blow job? You just take in as much as you can."
I placed the head of my rampant hard-on into that wide-lipped mouth with its perfect white 
teeth... teeth...
"And if you use your teeth, you'll wish you'd never been born. And when I come, you swallow 
it."
Just as well I'd told her what to do: she'd not have had a clue otherwise. A real innocent. But 
soon my dick was sliding nicely in and out of her mouth, while I bent forward and let my hands 
explore that splendid young body a little more, stroking more firmly over the bra material now... 
Feeling the nipples through the thin material. Letting my fingertips slide down over that smooth 
flat stomach to where the panties were stretched across the hipbones so tight that they barely 
contacted the skin.
"Lift your legs up, Lexy." She could just get her feet up onto the desk edge, knees clamped 
together. Tense, she stopped sucking and waited for the inevitable spreading. I put my hands 
between her thighs, back to back and prised her legs apart, stretching forward rather hard so that 
her neck was twisted right back and my prick pushing right into her throat. Back to the waistband 
of her knickers: yes, slide the fingertips inside and probe down over the mons veneris, feeling 
coarse hairs crinkling under my fingertips, heading on towards the moist juicy warmth between 
her legs. A more frantic slap on the arse. Superb - another centimetre, I was almost there... I 
found the soft folds of flesh, probed in to find the clitoris. She squirmed, fingers groping my 
buttocks hard as her body fought for air but simultaneously shivered at the adrenalin rush of the 
sex act. I came copiously and satisfyingly, then withdrew from her mouth and sat back on the 
swivel seat.
Alexandra rolled over onto her front, then slid down backwards off the desk, standing in front of 
it, breathing heavily and supporting her weight with her hands on the green paper blotter.
"Very good for a first time," I said condescendingly. "Did you come?"
"You certainly did," was her only reply. She ripped the corner off the blotter and wiped her 
glistening lips with it. I was almost ashamed of myself: I had intended it to be just a little bit of 
get-to-know-you kind of fun, establishing who was the top dog, not needing a johnny (though I 
had some at home, of course). But I'd lost control and it had turned into a hardcore violation that 
most of the whores in the clubs would have wanted extra for. That shouldn't have been the poor 
girl's first experience... she'd soon be thinking that her teachers were right about all men being 
animals. Still, it had been very good.
"Don't worry girl, there's plenty more," I told her. "Having come once already just means I can 
take my time better later. Now, let's eat."

--------

We had our little buffet of sandwiches and a couple of drinks, watching some comedy series on 
the telly in the bookcase, sitting on the half-circle sofa. Lexy seemed to have accepted her role 
now. Maybe she was no longer so scared: the ice had been well and truly broken - she'd brought 
a man to a climax for the first time. I hadn't turned physically violent. Maybe she'd just accepted 
her fate, but it wasn't the emotionless clinical acceptance of a heroin whore - with no feelings 
discernable behind the eyes and slack disinterested movements: this girl was lively and graceful. 
Maybe it made her feel very grown up somehow. Or deliciously naughty. Hell, maybe she'd even 
enjoyed it a bit at some level.
She wandered from sofa to table and back, still in wearing undies, shoes and socks and that red 
and black scarf, but no longer self-conscious at all. She grabbed her knees to her chest and 
laughed at some of the funny bits, showing the white crotch of her knickers between her neatly 
rounded buttocks and only sticking her tongue out at me playfully when I put a hand there. She 
sat cross-legged on the red couch to eat her food, not taking my palm away when I put it on her 
naked knee.

She'd eaten and drunk a bit now, so I could kiss her without getting the taste of semen (yucky 
salty stuff, not my thing at all). She kissed more naturally now, nuzzling up intimately close face 
to face, but parting her lips wide like a good girl to let me explore her mouth properly when I 
wanted her to. Yet it was still clearly a forced and unnatural reaction for her - and that was 
exactly the turn-on as far as I was concerned: slipping a bra-strap off a girl's shoulder never 
meant much to me before (it's just a preparatory move to make it easier to get at her tits, isn't it? 
Meaningless in itself) but feeling my fingertips moving over Alexandra's delicate collar-bone and 
slender shoulder was somehow absolutely electric. Something in the way the stopped and 
stiffened, something in the idea that nobody had done this to her before. It made it hugely 
exciting. I had thought it would be a while before I was ready for more action, but this youngster 
was just so cute and tempting. And helpless. And available.

I had bent to kiss her neck and had just been about to let my mouth run down and expose a soft 
young breast, when it suddenly got a bit much for her. She squirmed away and went back to the 
table to get something else: Christ, if I kept letting her put the evil moment off like that, she'd 
never stop eating.
I walked up behind her, standing tight behind so that she couldn't turn round to face me. I took 
the plate and glass from her hands, then pushed her gently but firmly face down on the table. 
Unclipping her bra at the back and pushing the straps aside, I slid my fingers underneath the 
black and red scarf and began massaging the tense neck muscles, before slowly working down 
the long smooth back. I felt a shiver running down her body as my hands reached her knickers. 
But there was nothing she sould do to stop me from slipping the flimsy cotton garment over her 
rounded backside and down to her white ankle socks. Obediently she lifted one black shiny shoe 
slightly off the floor to let me pass  the panties over it. Standing up again, I pushed her ankles 
apart using my feet until her legs were wide akimbo and all I had to do was part my robe and 
place my erection between them. 
I caught sight of her face: the drinks cabinet was glass-fronted and had a mirror inset at the back. 
The young girl's face looked back at mine, big blue eyes tearful and pleading. I saw her mouth 
the words, "Please don't" as I stroked my knob up and down the warm slit, probing in between 
the outer lips and lodging firmly at her entrance. "Please don't, please don't," she muttered, eyes 
widening to childlike proportions. But there was no resistance now; whether it was to ease her 
own discomfort, or to help me, or for her own enjoyment I'll never now, but she arched her back 
a little more and raised her hips an inviting extra inch. "Please don't, Sir."
But I did.
And how.
I didn't take my eyes off hers, watching in delight as her mouth opened in a brief gasp of pain as 
I penetrated her and took her virginity with one brutal thrust of the hips. I withdrew a little, then 
drove home again, even pushing the big boardroom table forward. Pulled out a little way again, 
and then I was rogering the youngster for all I was worth: hands on the lightly tanned, girlishly 
narrow hips, ramming home so that the fronts of my thighs were slapping audibly against her 
buttocks as I hilted myself deep inside her until I came satisfyingly.

"Excellent, my dear," I said, tying the sash of the dark blue housecoat round me again. "That was 
fun. I haven't had a virgin for probably twenty years."
I grabbed a can of beer and sat down on the sofa again, flipping the TV to a sports channel.
"My doctor's always recommending more fruit. I could definitely get very partial to cherries."
She just lay there on the table, the rise and fall of her chest showing she was sobbing softly. Her 
naked buttocks were still in full view, round and smooth, with her hairless vaginal lips partially 
visible. She looked very desirable, I thought. And I'd just had her! No drug-ridden slapper this, 
no pro just waiting for AIDS to rear its ugly head, no cheap slag whose debut shag was so far in 
the past that she couldn't remember it. The owner of that glistening juicy pussy had just found 
out what life was all about.

With her back to me, she did her bra up again and pulled her knickers up. Wordlessly, but still 
clearly fighting against bursting into tears, she went to the bathroom. I soon heard the shower 
running.
I sat back and watched the football, arms spread wide along the back of the sofa, taking the 
occasional sip of my beer. I'd not felt so alive for years.

--------

Maybe half an hour later, Alexandra re-emerged, wearing another dark blue housecoat, identical 
to mine.

She stood at the doorway and looked at me, towelling her long blonde hair. She drew a deep 
breath: something to say, trying to sound confident but not quite making it.
"So, Sir, did you enjoy that?"
I nodded as noncommittally as I could. "Sure."
"Deflowering me?"
 shrugged neutrally, "It was a good fuck, yeah." It had been dynamite, but I wasn't necessarily 
going to say so.
She swallowed. "Well, you'll never get another chance. I'll never be a virgin again."
I wasn't sure what she was trying to say. I took a shot in the dark. "Who cares? Men will still 
want you, girl, 'cause you're still a pretty young thing."
"Really?"
"Of course. You're highly attractive, you're well-spoken, you move beautifully. Most girls lose it 
in their mid teens."
"It's just not usually for the gratification of a ugly fat bloke of forty or so."
It was probably meant to be an insult, but instead it made me feel good. How many guys of my 
age ever get to screw a piece of jailbait like her? I laughed. "Don't worry, you're not ruined or 
spoiled. On the contrary. Once you're a bit more experienced, you'll be a knockout in bed. Very 
good."
She flushed. I swear it: she looked at the ground and blushed a little.
"Come here."
I got her to curl up next to me on the sofa, resting against me with my arm round her.
"Any red-blooded male would enjoy you, Sexy Lexy."

She went to sleep with her blonde head in my lap. Weird, or so I thought - but the shrinks could 
probably tell you what was going on. Giving her troubled brain a chance to reorganize its files as 
she dozed, perhaps: it certainly was a rather restless sleep. Coming down from the adrenalin rush. 
Maybe she needed the simple animal pleasure of comforting bodily contact. Could be something 
to do with dominance and father-figures, even.
Whatever. I watched the TV for a bit and drank my beer while stroking the young blonde gently 
and calmly, in a friendly rather than sexual way. The dreams stopped - if that's what they were - 
and she relaxed.

--------

The game finished after half an hour or so and some film or other started. Probably time to get 
moving if I wanted to get her back to school tonight. I shifted a liitle, and Lexy just turned 
languidly against me, stretching out with her arms over her head. Ah, no rush - let her kip for a 
few minutes more. It was a good film, with a tasty blonde actress I was rather fond of who'd get 
out of her clothes with any luck. I turned the volume up a fraction and made myself more 
comfortable, moving along the sofa to where I could reach another beer from the pack, thereby 
leaving Lexy draped sensuously face-up over my knee with her back arched. I cracked the can 
and let the plot develop.

A minute or so later, Lexy was waking up too. She didn't alter her awkward-looking position, 
seeming to be quite comfortable stretched out languorously with her long arms above her fair 
head. She just opened those big blue eyes and started watching the movie too.
I explained what was going on, with the odd hand gesture inevitably. My left was on the dressing 
gown at her left thigh, but my right no longer had anywhere to go now that she was awake: it had 
been stroking her head. Naturally enough, I ran it up and down the towelling gown, and then 
realizing that she had in her drowsiness taken no action whatsoever to stop my wandering hand, I 
placed the fingertips at her throat and slithered them gently down inside the fluffy material, down 
the centre line of her body over the sternum - beyond where they should have met a bra. Back 
upwards and away from me, gently and delicately. She bit her lip but lay still as my fingertips 
followed the gentle swell of a taut breast and came to a tight little nipple. Barely in the faintest 
contact with her skin, my fingers traced a small circle round her tit. I could feel it crinkling up 
and hardening, could see her hands moving uncertainly as she instinctively reacted against the 
instrusion yet at the same time found it pleasurable. She grabbed the end arm of the sofa above 
her head: not fighting me off. It didn't matter whether this was through a conscious decision not 
to antagonize the man who had her in his power, or because she was luxuriating in the unfamiliar 
sensations. She wasn't resisting, and that was an invitation not to be refused.
I pulled eagerly at the sash of her gown and she gasped as I parted it wide. I looked down at her, 
and all thoughts of the starlet on the screen were instantly forgotten.

I had already seen what a splendid lithe figure Alexandra had: the flat muscular stomach had 
been on display for an hour or more as she wandered about in her underwear. The delicate collar-
bones, the fragile-seeming shape of the hips. But seeing her in her naked splendour was 
something else again.
The perfect firmly rounded breasts of a young girl. A little paler than her tanned skin but with no 
particular tan lines. Fuller than I had thought. Stretched magnificently taut by her arched back, 
with tempting little dark-red nipples protruding skywards.
And I'd fingered her pussy as I came the first time, and used it mercilessly from behind the 
second time. Yet I'd not seen her undressed till now, and that was the real pice de rsistance. A 
very fine pale down I'd not noticed before began just below her navel, running downwards to 
where it spread out from around the panty-line into a thick diamond-shaped mass of curls, darker 
than the hair on her head but still a soft golden colour I'd never seen before.
"Sexy Lexy," I said with a slow grin, "that is one hell of a body."
"The girls at school teased me about it a bit," she said, squirming slightly but not trying to cover 
up. "Say it looks like an arrow pointing the way."
I laughed. "They're just jealous," I replied. "There aren't too many natural blondes around. You 
look really good, girl, honestly. Really tasty."

I let my hands roam smoothly up and down that spectacular soft warm body, teasing her. Not 
quite grappling her tits. Plunging my fingers in between her thighs, but an inch or two from her 
groin. The adrenalin rush from her violent experiences of the last hours hadn't left the system 
entirely. I could almost feel the need for release welling up inside her, but there were still too 
many inhibitions.
I stopped and sat her up next to me.
"Let yourself go, girl."
"I can't."
"Then I'll just have to make you." I got up and stood in front of her, dropping my housecoat. 
Hard and ready for action again: a third time was going to prove no trouble at all. "Spread your 
legs and show me your cunt."
She did as instructed, expecting that I was going to fuck her again.
"How many times are you going to rape me?" The question was in a clear voice, almost arrogant. 
No longer scared. It almost made me want to take her on the spot, teach a lesson by shafting her 
hard and uncompromsingly. And that was her idea, I realised: she didn't trust her body any more 
not to react, not to enjoy herself.
"This isn't rape," I said as I knelt in front of her. "This is lovemaking."
Beginning at the inside of the right knee, began kissing and running my tongue down the inner 
thigh until I came to where her nearly hairless pussy - just a fine down of gold around it - was 
waiting for me. I licked and probed every fold and crevice, forcing her legs apart and refusing to 
let up for a minute until I had her heaving and squealing as she came time and again. Only then 
did I take her again: the young blonde lay there quiescent on the sofa, long arms draped along the 
back of it, pale blue eyes glazed disbelievingly at the fact that she had been made to climax so 
easily despite herself. And as I sank myself vigorously into the warm sheath of her soft body, she 
responded again. Unwillingly at first, but by the time I was ready, she was letting herself be 
swept along by the overwhelming hormone rush. She spasmed tightly round me, then lay there 
spent and exhausted, with a sheen of sweat on that splendid body as - hardly able to believe my 
luck - I emptied myself inside her again.

--------

I left her there on the sofa, and started getting dressed. The youngster just sat there stark naked, 
legs splayed wide and with everything openly on display, too shocked and stunned to cover 
herself. Christ, I could certainly handle a bit more of this girl. And a few like her. What a sight 
for sore eyes!

"I'm going to drive us round to my place to continue your sexual education overnight. It's only a 
couple of minutes from your school. It's late: you ring 'em and tell the answerphone that 
someone will be dropping you back off there in the morning."
With a blank expression, she did as instructed, using her own mobile phone.
"Right, put your clothes back on, girl. I've got a car outside. Let's go. And by the way, I want the 
number of that mobile. Something tells me that you - and any pretty friends who you can 
persuade to come along - are going to become frequent visitors."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
          All original work, copyright (c) J.M.Maserati, 2003.
         May be freely disseminated for non-commercial purposes
    as long as the author is clearly identified and copyright stated. 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



