Pedo. Incest. I hope this is as close as my stories ever come to sadism.

Disclaimer: The children described here are perfect, ideal, and completely imaginary. Do not think 
reality could ever feel like this. In prison, child molesters are used as human toilets.
        
Punishment
by Pedro Feelya

    I never really liked my sister. I hadn't spoken to her in a dozen years. When I got the call that she 
and her husband had died, I went to Florida almost out of a sense of duty. I knew that their daughter 
hadn't been in the car with them. It hadn't occurred to me that I was the closest living relative to my 
niece. I had never even met her. Her name was Christine and she was ten years old.
    It took three months to arrange the funeral, deal with the lawyers and life insurance, and sell, ship, or 
store their stuff. I didn't need or want any of the money or stuff. They didn't have much money. I put 
everything of sentimental value into storage for Christine. 
    The lawyers and a social worker made it very clear that I didn't have to take Christine; she could 
have become a ward of the state. I didn't have anything against kids. I just never got married and never 
wanted to. I had three months to get used to the idea of being a father. 
    For the first two months, Christine was in shock and didn't know what to do. Christine had lots of 
friends and their parents helped a lot. She spent most of her time with them while I took care of 
business. She really didn't pay attention to me.
    The third month, Christine began to realize how much her life would change as most of the furniture 
disappeared from their house. 
    Christine was ten years old and an only child. I have opinions about "only" children. Often, it seems, 
the parents of "only" children spend too much attention on them, and either spoil them or control them 
too much. Christine was one of the spoiled ones. 
    
     "Hey Christine can I call you Chris or Chrissy?" I asked casually.
    "No." Her voice was more than a little bit haughty. "My name is Christine. Not Chris, and not 
Chrissy. It's Christine."
    I blew it off. She was suddenly an orphan and had to be scared. But then, her mother had always 
been a royal bitch. That was why we hadn't talked for so many years. I recognized a little of my sister in 
Christine.
    Christine wasn't all bad. She was polite, but never open or loving. She became more and more 
difficult to deal with by the end of the third month. I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent and 
confident adult. I knew that a child would be difficult, especially this child, but I should be able to 
handle it. This wasn't Hollywood, and she wasn't Satan's child.
    I took Christine back to California with me and she settled in. My life didn't have to change 
drastically. She went to school, and I went to work. Meals became more regular and I cooked a lot more. 
I had several female friends I could get together with, but none too serious. It was nice to have someone 
to share the house with.
    I assigned Christine some chores, and that was when the battle of wills began. When she wouldn't 
clean her room, it was easy enough to disconnect the satellite dish. I didn't miss it much myself. But she 
pretended not to miss it either. When she decided not to help setting the table or vacuuming, I tried to 
take different privileges away. It wasn't working. She was too strong willed to let anything affect her.
    One night she was in a bad temper and she started calling me names. I thought most of them were 
funny so I laughed. This made her angrier. Then she called me a, "Loser". 
    She had found one of my buttons and I was pissed. In two steps I had caught her. I sat on the nearest 
seat and put her over my knee. I then began to slap her butt until she was sobbing and crying about how 
sorry she was. I then let her up and she walked to her room. 
    I noticed that the moment she stood up, the tears had miraculously vanished. Her sobbing had ended 
in one breath. Her eyes weren't even red. 
    Then I remembered being spanked when I was a kid. As a tough boy, being hit hard on my bottom 
was nothing compared to falling off my bike or sliding down a hill. It was the drama and the fear that 
made me cry in front of my parents.
    My punishment hadn't changed Christine one tiny bit. She was just as defiant as ever. A couple days 
later, I received Christine's first cell phone bill. She had run up a three hundred dollar bill on her cell 
phone, I had to take it away. That hurt her. 
    She started calling me names. I could take that. Then she spit at me. 
    She was half ready so it took five steps before I caught her. My blood boiled. I didn't know what to 
do. I sat to put her on my knee again, but this time I pulled her pants and undies down to expose her bare 
bottom. I laid her across my lap. 
    Before I could even smack her, the tears began to flood and she began to sob. I spanked her sharply 
and watched her reaction. I then spanked her barely, and got the same reaction. She was a terrible 
actress. I was frustrated. I admit I wanted to hurt her. I reached one hand down and spread her ass 
cheeks, then snapped my finger against her asshole. 
    Suddenly she sucked up a sob in surprise, and jumped. I snapped my finger again against her anus 
and the soft flesh beneath. Christine screamed a real scream. The scream began in pain and ended in 
rage. Now she began to fight me, pounding her fists against my leg. I snapped again. She screamed in 
pain again and it ended with every nasty word she knew. I snapped again, and she screamed, and then 
began to cry for real. 
    I was still pissed, and I wanted to give her something to remember. I shoved my forefinger into her 
butthole, up past the first knuckle. Her whole body stiffened up, trapping my finger inside. Her sobs 
racked her whole body.
    I looked down and several things crashed against my brain at once. Her ass was gorgeous. This 
bratty little kid had a perfectly curved, soft, beautiful butt. It was turning pink where I had slapped it. 
My anger was being washed away by fear. Maybe I had gone too far. I was sitting with a half naked girl 
spread across my lap. Her hairless pussy would be just above my hardening cock. I could smell her 
body. And, my finger was still deep in her asshole! 
    I jerked my hand free and she screeched. I stood her up and she bent to grab her pants, pushing her 
bare butt into my face. She then pulled her pants halfway up while she ran sobbing for her bedroom. Her 
bare butt danced before my eyes the whole way. My dick was rock hard. 
    I didn't see her the rest of the evening, and I sat down to have a few drinks with my best friend Jack. 
You know Mr. Daniels, don't you?
    The next morning we hardly spoke and that evening we ate dinner in silence. I had half expected to 
have to explain myself to the cops that day, but apparently Christine didn't want to take that route. 
    After dinner, I sat down at the table to pay the bills. Christine was supposed to empty the 
dishwasher. She was being rough with the dishes. 
    "Could you please not bang the dishes?" I already had a bad headache.
    Christine looked straight at me and a plate slipped from her fingers to shatter on the tile floor. 
    "Hey!" I said.
    She threw the next plate down hard, and it exploded against the tile. These weren't the crappy 
homestore dishes she had grown up with. These were all hand blown glass and extremely expensive.
    Christine glared at me and threw a bowl down to shatter.
    "Enough!" I screamed. "Stop it."
    She was doing this just to piss me off and now she smashed another plate. 
    I launched myself at her and she ran. I tackled her before she could get out of the kitchen. In a single 
motion I yanked her pants down and almost all the way off. She knew what was going to happen, and 
she had done it anyway. I knew what hurt her, and I intended to hurt her again. 
    I didn't bother with subtlety. I shoved one finger right into her asshole. This time she didn't scream 
out loud. She bit it back and wouldn't let it out. She tried to roll and kick, but I held her tight. My 
punishment wasn't enough. I didn't want to physically damage her. I reached up into the kitchen cabinet 
and grabbed a small bottle of olive oil. It was messy, but I got plenty on her ass.
    Then I began to work a second finger in. She was sobbing heavily, but quietly. She was choking 
back all the sound. She was prepared for this pain as was prepared to fight it. 
    I kept working my second finger in, trying not to tear her, but teach her a real good lesson. I was 
lying over her half naked body as she squirmed while pinned to the floor. My cock grew rock hard and 
pressed against her slender body as I wrestled with her. 
    Two fingers were not enough to make her give in. I was starting to sweat from exertion. Why should 
I have to do this? Why should I put up with her, like she was my obnoxious wife, when I got nothing out 
of it? It wouldn't matter if I used my fingers or something else. At least I would enjoy the something 
else. 
    In the heat of a half naked wrestling match it might have seemed like a good idea to slide my zipper 
down and pull my hard cock out. Christine couldn't see it and wouldn't know what it was anyway. 
    My hand slipped free from her ass and I slid my body over her to pin her down. She still fought. My 
cock pulled me forward like a tow cable. I had to quickly slip one hand between us to make sure my 
dick didn't end up in her pussy. It was all so slippery, soft, tight and hot down there that I wasn't sure 
that I cared.
    I couldn't feel a hole, but I kept pushing harder until the head of my penis popped into someplace 
very tight and hot. Christine screamed out, but it was too late for her to give up.
    I didn't have to thrust or push deeper. The motions of her squirming and all the wrestling we had 
done to work me up; I was ready to cum immediately. My cock began to pulse and throb. I could feel 
the muscles in my pelvis straining to push gobs of goop into such a tight hole. I have had many hot 
women in many hot positions before, but nothing made me come close to losing my mind like this did. 
    The higher you fly, the harder you crash. 
    Half my weight was resting on a crying, screaming, half naked little girl. My dick was quickly 
shriveling up and slipped free in a slippery mess. I lifted myself off of her enough that she scrambled out 
and ran for her bathroom. I sat back and tried to clean myself with her torn pants. 
    I didn't own a gun, but I wondered where I could buy one so I could shoot myself. 
    I always thought that I was the good guy. Now I knew that I was street scum; a bacterial fungus of 
some disgusting type. I walked to my bathroom and washed my disgustingly evil and vile dick. I then 
crawled into bed and rocked myself to sleep. 
    The next morning I woke up long enough to call in sick. I woke up again when I heard the front door 
slam as Christine left for school. It then dawned on me that I was a full blown child molester. I had 
raped a child. I had raped a ten year old little girl. I had sodomized a prepubescent child. I had fucked 
my own niece in the ass. 
    As soon as she got to school, Christine would tell someone, and the police would probably be 
knocking on my door within the hour. In prison, I would be the guy they practiced stabbing, before they 
stabbed somebody important. If I was unlucky, I would live more than a month.
    Despite my extreme depression and self hate, I managed to go to sleep again. I woke again after 
noon and dragged myself from bed. I couldn't sleep anymore so I went out to clean up all the glass in 
the kitchen. The cops hadn't shown up yet, so that was a good sign.
    By three o'clock I was tired of banging around inside my head and I decided to go pick Christine up 
from school. At the school, she saw me and the bus at the same time, but chose to come to my car. She 
wouldn't look me in the face and I didn't expect her to.  
     On the way home I made a lame comment on the weather. Christine picked up on it and started a 
conversation. I was relieved that she might be able to forgive me, but felt guilty enough that I didn't 
want forgiveness. That evening, neither one of us looked at the other's face and we went about our 
separate ways inside the house. 
    The next day was more normal, but I took off from work early to pick Christine at school again. The 
ride home was filled with the pleasant small talk I had hoped for. When I pulled up into the driveway 
and stopped, Christine got out from the passenger door, and tripped. Her books spilled across the 
driveway and she landed on her hands. 
    She jumped up and slammed the door, and then started kicking it. She was kicking the door of my 
new Mustang. I walked around slowly toward her. She was putting a really big dent in the door, and she 
wasn't stopping. She was a terrible actress. I wasn't angry at all.
    I knelt in the driveway beside her. "Do you want me to punish you?" I asked gently.
    "No" she screamed as she kicked the door again. Then, under her breath, "yes."
    I was shocked. "You want me to hurt you?"
    "Noooo" she whined. Tears were starting to form.
    I felt a cold chill at my next thought. "Do you like the pain?"
    Her eyes widened in fear.
    "No" She shook her head. "Not the pain. Please not the pain. I like the other thing."
    "What other thing?" I was really confused.
    "It also made me feel really good inside." She still hadn't looked me in the eyes. She looked off into 
space and whispered. "You feel good inside me."
    
You can guess where this might go, if you want me to finish it.
Email: pedrofeelya@gmail.com
