"Oh, won't someone help me? Please, somebody help me, please, please!" The little girl's cries went ringing out, but in the hubbub and commotion no one answered her. She could hear the crackle, and feel the heat of the flames. She felt her way along the brick wall. The wrong way; she could feel the increasing heat of the bricks. She turned around, but quickly hit a cul-de-sac. She was desperate, and, despite the risk, she decided she would have to strike out into the open, away from the meager comfort of a wall she could touch. She wished she had her cane, but in the rush out of the orphanage, it had been knocked from her hand, and no one had paid any heed to her pleas that it be returned to her.
Once outside the building, she had been quickly left behind, no one caring about the little blind girl who couldn't keep up. She had always been too much trouble to them anyway. *****-ia had little money to spare on orphanages, and less for 'special needs' children. If the staff had been able to work her more than they did, they would have. As it was, she was pressed into service in the kitchen, mostly, peeling potatoes or other tasks for which sight was unnecessary.
She was punished frequently, as most of the children were, and somewhat harshly. A kind word and a hug after each whipping would have gone far to ameliorate the effects, perhaps even leave her feeling deserving and grateful for the attention. But there were no hugs for the little blind girl. Her only comfort in life thus far had been a missionary couple who had spent some time ministering to the children in the orphanage, during one of the periods in which *****-ia's government was willing to allow it. Under those sweet souls' guidance she had even converted. But they had left, perforce, and she was alone again.
She had some dim awareness of the fact that the treatment she received was not what it should be. Indeed, it was worse than she knew. Being more vulnerable than most of the children, and sweetly pretty to boot, the mostly male staff of the orphanage singled her out for corporal punishment. For as long as she could remember, she would be frequently stripped, and a strop or switch applied to her bottom and thighs as she yelped. Now she was approaching ten years old, and the aim of her tormentors was shifting: more and more of their strokes landed on the front of her thighs, sometimes even smacking full upon her unfledged cleftlips and clitoris. Afterwards one or another of the staff would pretend to 'check' her, rubbing her bottom, their hands trailing towards her girlhood.
All this attention could not fail to affect her. In her little bed at night she couldn't help but remember each episode. She feared the discipline, the sting on her naked body, the shame of knowing she was so exposed to grown men while still a preteen. But somehow each session left her...unsatisfied, and as she lay in bed her fingers strayed to her little girlcleft, pressing and rubbing, as she stifled the little cries she would have made if she weren't afraid that someone would hear her.
She had no hope that her lot would improve anytime soon. There was no one to tell about it, for one thing. She had become aware that the police chief, and the local inspector, who should have been monitoring the care of the children, would often be invited over to witness, and even take a hand in, her punishments, and those of some of the other children. She had heard rumors of what happened to the girls who were just a little older than she...
She gingerly stepped away from the wall, still calling out to anyone who might be willing to help her. At least she felt the heat of the fire fading. But people were still rushing past her, no one stopping, no one saying anything to her. As little comfort as they were to her, she would have been glad to find any of the staff at the orphanage, or the other children. None were around, seemingly.
"Lost yer chums, little missy?" The voice was suddenly right next to her, and she started back, but tripped over some debris in the street and fell, fortunately without injury. She was too stunned to resist as a hand grasped her arm roughly and hauled her to her feet. "It's dangerous out here, now ain't it, little missy, especially for someone like you! I think you'd better be comin' with me." Without waiting for a reply from her, the man (she could tell that from his voice, and strength...and smell!) hustled her down the street. She came to herself, realizing that she was in at least as much peril with him than without him, and probably more. She struggled and kicked, still hollering for help, seemingly uselessly; certainly he seemed not to mind, paying no more attention to her resistance than a tree would.
There was a bump, almost a shock; it seemed as if something had collided with the man. His grip slackened, then fell away. She heard him grunt, panting, as if he was straining at something heavy, then silence from him.
"Are you all right, little one?" The voice was soft, a pleasant baritone.
"Y-yes, I guess so." She trembled, wondering who this was, what he would do with her. How would all this turn out?
"Did he...hurt you?"
"No, I'm all right. He scared me!" She felt the tears, so close to the surface even at the best of times, now leaking out of her sightless eyes.
A soft touch, not the man's hand that she expected to feel at any time, but a cottony gentleness, was pressed against her cheek. She reached up and took it; a man's handkerchief, smelling of fabric softener and bleach, a simple thing, but finer than she was used to. In a daze, she dabbed at her eyes for a moment, then reached out and grabbed the man's wrists, and flung herself into his embrace, burying her face in his shirt, sobbing uncontrollably. He gently enfolded his arms about her, rocking her back and forth as her shoulders shook.
"Little one...little one..." She came to herself to realize that he was speaking gently to her.
"W-what? What did you say?" she stammered out.
"We should get you away from here. The fire is spreading. It's not safe. Is there anywhere you want me to take you? Someone you want me to find for you?" His tone was gentle but insistent. She could sense his concern for her.
"N-no. NO! I...I don't want to go back. There's no one there I want to be with. W-won't you take me somewhere safe? Please, mister?" Tears continued to leak as she begged him. She knew it was a risk, but he seemed nice. And almost anything would be better than her life so far.
"Should I take you to the police station, then? Surely they would..." but she cut him off.
"NO! No, please! They...I don't want...please mister, just take me somewhere, OK? Please?"
"Hmmm. I guess I could get you somewhere safe, at least for a little while. Follow me." He turned and headed off, assuming she would follow. She tried to hear his footsteps, and stay up with him, but she quickly tripped over some debris and fell, luckily without injury.
"M-mister! Mister, please!" He heard her cry and spun around, leaping to her side and lifting her gently to her feet.
"Are you all right?!" he inquired.
"I...I...I can't see," she finally admitted, miserably.
"Did you hurt your eyes in the fire?" he asked.
"N-no. I-I never could see. I guess I was born that way, I dunno." She was heartsick. Surely he would consider her worthless, too, just like the staff at the orphanage; too much trouble to care for.
"I'm so sorry; I didn't know. Don't worry, I'll hold your arm and walk more carefully. But let's hurry as much as we can, OK? Can't you feel the heat?" And indeed she could; with her heightened nonvisual senses, she could tell the fire was closing in. She was glad to feel his arm around her shoulders as he led her off, leaving the crackle and smoke behind.
After a short walk, he paused, and she heard a car door opening. "Be careful getting in," he advised, as he slowly led her to crouch down and slide onto the seat. "Can you buckle yourself?"
"...Yes, I've got them," she said as she located the ends by touch. The ride was smooth, and brief. "Where are you taking me?" she finally got up the courage to ask.
"To my chateau. Is that all right?"
"Y-yes. I guess so. I dunno where else to go," she added despondently.
"Please don't be so sad," he told her. "I'll help you as much as I can. I won't give you up to anyone you don't want to be with. I won't let anyone hurt you. You're a beautiful little girl," she made no sign, but inwardly she brightened at this; no one had ever called her beautiful before! "And I want to take care of you any way I can," he finished. She settled back in her seat, satisfied for the moment.
They arrived at the chateau and he escorted her in. He took her to a room with a soft sofa and sat her down. "You stay there for a moment. Are you hungry?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed. He grinned, then caught himself, realizing she couldn't see him.
"Good!" he said, "I'll get you some lunch."
After she had eaten, he led her to the room he planned for her to stay in. She asked him to let her feel her way around it, after removing any objects in the middle of the room. She sped around the perimeter with a deft touch, learning her way by feel. He marveled at her. She did the same thing in the bathroom, and then said, "C-could you...ummm..."
"Oh. OH, sure! Sure, I'm sorry. Here. Here's a bell," he handed her a small copper bell. "If you need anything, or just want to talk, ring it. I'll be back in a little while, anyway. OK?"
"OK!" He closed the door behind him.
For the next few weeks she lived an idyllic life. He was there to help her with anything she wanted. She ate better than she ever had. Her sheets were soft. He bought her new clothes, which fit her, and were so much more comfortable than what she had worn before. And there was music! Beautiful string quartets, and symphonies! And Dr. Ferrel (he had introduced himself, of course) could play the piano so wonderfully. Nadya (for that was the girl's name) would sit and listen to him for an hour or more, eyes closed, swaying in time to the music.
And they would sit and talk. Guilelessly she told him all about her short, sad life. He marveled at the sweetness she had retained despite her suffering. And he was...aroused by certain of her experiences. For she had left nothing out, even recounting her treatment at the hands of the staff, and her own reactions to it.
Dr Ferrel knew himself, and he knew something would have to change. Finally he sat Nadya down for a serious talk. "Little one, I need to tell you something. You have become very dear to me." She smiled shyly, still facing partly away, as was her wont. It made more sense to turn one ear towards him, rather than her eyes, after all. "But you must know something about me. I find that I can't keep going on the way we have been. It is getting too hard on me." She looked stricken. She was too much of a bother!
"Oh, Dr Ferrel, please, please don't send me away! I can help out! I can learn my way around the kitchen, and peel potatoes, and..." He cut her off, aghast that she had jumped to such a conclusion.
"No, no! That's not what I mean at all! I don't want you to go. Quite the opposite. Let me explain." She was mollified for the moment, and sat back to listen.
"First I have to know how much you know about some things. Do you know what it means to be married?" Though blind, she had perhaps instinctively mastered the typical preteen 'of-I-know-that-do-you-think-I'm-stupid?' look. "I'll take that for a yes," he chuckled.
"Then let me ask you this: do you know what sex is?" She looked down; she wasn't sure she liked where this was going.
"Do you know what 'sexual desire' is?" She looked puzzled. "Sexual desire is like being hungry for food, only it's 'hungry' for having sex. Most men have this desire often. Many women and girls do, too. Do you understand so far?"
"There actually are different types of sexual desire. Most men just have sexual desire for women and girls, usually pretty ones. But some men have other desires in addition to that. These other desires are called 'fetishes', and they come in many different forms. For instance, believe it or not, little one, there are some men who don't get fully sexually excited unless the woman they are with is wearing shoes, sometimes a particular type of shoes, like high-heeled red ones." She looked astonished. "It's true! And there's many other totally different kinds of fetishes.
"You might have guessed why I'm telling you all this. I am one of those men who have a fetish. Actually two of them. One of them is this: I enjoy spanking and sexually punishing a girl before and during sex. Oh, I can have sex without it, but it's much more enjoyable for me with it. I'm not talking about anything very painful; just the kind of punishments that any father might give his little girl if she's been naughty. But I do them...a little differently!
"The other desire I have is to have sex with a very young girl. A girl with slim hips, like yours," and he traced his hand over hers, as she froze to the touch, freaked out, but at the same time not scared at all. "And only buds for breasts, like you," and he caressed her little nipples through her thin blouse, making her tremble. "And the face of an angel, like yours," and he kissed her full on the mouth, not deep, but long and sweet. She was swaying where she sat, eyes half-closed, when he finally drew away. He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face towards his. "So that's how it is, little one. I desire you. I love you. I want to take you as my daughter, and my wife, and my slave. I will love you, and cherish you, protect you, and care for you. I will also punish you, and use you sexually, like a husband with his wife, and a master with his slavegirl.
"But if you don't want that, I understand. It's a lot to ask! But if I can't have you completely, then I don't think I can bear to keep on living in the same house as you; it would be too frustrating for me! So I'd probably find another orphanage for you to stay in, I guess..." She pulled a face, the universal preteen 'yuck' face. "I'll take that to mean you don't like that idea," he chuckled. She smiled shyly. "Well, little one, I'll tell you what. You sit here and think about it for a while. You don't have to decide right away. But sometime in the next few days I need to know what you want to do." He smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead, then left her alone.
He went into the next room, hoping against hope that she would decide right away, but fearing it would be a few days at best, and then not favourable. He was startled to hear, only a few minutes later, the little handbell tinkle. He rushed back in to find her with her arms stretched out towards the sound of his approach. He swept her up into his arms, lifting her off her feet and hugging her tight as her little sweet voice tickled his ear, "I wanna stay with you! I wanna stay with you!" He held her for a long time, just reveling in the feel of her slender body pressed against his, nuzzling her silky hair, feeling her little sighs, receiving her butterfly kisses.
After a while he gently set her down, and spoke softly in her ear, "I think you've been a naughty little girl. You need a spanking." She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed against him, trembling. "Shhh, shhh, it's OK, it's all right. Don't be afraid. Listen carefully, little one. If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say 'No' or 'Ow' or 'don't' or 'stop'. Understand?"
"Y-yes," she replied, still trembling.
He gently bent her under his arm, tossed up her skirt, and gave her a few light swats on her bottom. Then he let her up. She straightened, her little face screwed up in a quizzical look. "Is that all? They used to whip me MUCH harder than that! You-yer gonna have to spank me harder, and longer. That wasn't nuthin'!" She bent herself under his arm again and waited. He gaped in astonishment, but quickly collected himself, not about to pass up the marvelous gift she was giving him. He proceeded to give her a brisk, business-like spanking, smacking one cheek then the other, as she danced and jiggled, moaning and yelping. But she never said 'Ow' or 'don't'!
As he spanked her, she was in almost a daze. It was as if she was back in the orphanage, somehow, being punished like she used to be. Or perhaps she was really in her little bed at night, pretending to be punished, spanking her own bottom, rubbing herself...She half expected to be abused as she had been before, neglected, unloved...But then he was done spanking her, and stood her up, and enfolded her in his arms gently, and held her, and rocked her, and reached down to rub her reddened bottom as she whimpered and sniffled.
The next day Dr Ferrel lost no time. He made the necessary connections, and soon had both adoption papers and a marriage license for Nadya and himself. A short wedding ceremony before a friendly priest with well-crossed palm completed the arrangements. Then they were home, and up in his room, and he stood her in the middle of the room and kissed her. "It's time for me to see my little daughter, and slave, and wife." He began to unbutton her blouse as she shivered. One piece after another was removed, and soon she stood naked before him.
She was gorgeous. A stunning preteen, the top of her head barely coming up to his chest. Long, silky dark blonde hair. She was heartbreakingly slender, despite her recently improved nutrition. Her breasts were mere buds, topped by little nipples, barely breaking the plane of her chest. Her slim thighs framed her unfledged girlcleft, puffy immature lips around a prominent clitoris. She shivered at the thought that she was so exposed to him, although of course she had no conception of what it was like for him to see her.
Then he took off all his own clothes and stood before her. "You see with your hands, don't you, little one? Then come take a good look at me."
She reached out and stroked his face. She'd run her fingers over it before, loving the feel of his shaven cheeks and jaw, his strong nose, his bushy eyebrows. Then she ran down his neck, to his hairy chest which she had not felt before. Then down, down, until suddenly she encountered the end of his rampant rod. She gasped, and jerked her hand back for a moment, but he just stood there, stolidly, waiting. Gingerly she reached out and touched his glans with one finger, then her hand, running up and down the shaft, taking in the size of it. He was really little more than average length, but of course his rod seemed enormous to a ten-year-old's hand.
As she gingerly touched it, he commanded, "Show me where that goes, little one." She was startled for a moment, but then, almost mischievously, she pointed between her legs. "Very good. Now show me where else it goes." She was stumped for a moment, but dredged up memories of some of the teens in the orphanage, talking about...She pointed to her mouth, questioningly. "That's right. It goes there, too. Now," and his voice sank to a hoarse whisper, "Where else does it go? The only place left it could go?" She was dumbfounded, stricken for a moment. Shaking, her hand crept back between her legs, reaching for her anus...
He caught her up in his arms again, now enfolded in a wonderful skin-to-skin hug. He meandered over to the bed and sat down, pulling her across his lap as he did so. His hard rod pressed against her waist as his hard hand spanked her thoroughly, her little naked body jerking and rocking with each smack. Suddenly he stopped, spun her over in his lap so that she was lying face up, and gave her 3 sharp smacks directly onto her girlhood as she cried out wildly. Then he was holding her, soothing her, rubbing her gently on her cleft and clitoris as she moaned and trembled. Soon her little hips were moving of their own accord, pressing her moistening cleft against his insistent hand. She was yipping and yelping, bucking and rocking, and finally coming on his hand as he punctuated his caresses with sharp smacks to her clitoris that drove her to distraction.
Finally she was spent, lying in his arms, burning and murmuring. He let her relax for a while, but his frustration was almost unbearable. "Get up, little one, I want you on your knees before me." She slowly arose, shivering as he slid his hands up and down her slender body. Now she was kneeling on the bed as he stood in front of her, his erect manhood, had she been able to see it, only inches from her lips. He kissed her forehead and cheek, then her lips. "I'm going to rape your mouth now," he told her. "Make a tunnel with your tongue and the roof of your mouth."
She complied, eyes closed now with embarrassment and anticipation. "You don't need to move your mouth or anything; I'll take care of that. But something will come out of me when I'm done." She stiffened in alarm. "Don't worry, it's not pee!" She relaxed. "I want you to swallow what comes out; many girls do."
He took her face and head in his hands and moved in. She trembled when his glans touched her lips, but didn't resist as he slid into her little mouth. Even halfway in, as far as he thought he could go without gagging her, his shaft filled and stretched her lips. He worked in and out of her as she whimpered softly. Even though he had occasionally relieved himself since the little blind girl had come to live with him, the scene was too intense; the sight, sound, and feel of a little preteen girl with his manhood in her mouth was more fetching than anything he'd ever experienced. In no time he was emptying himself in her mouth as she struggled to swallow all of the unexpected rush of hot liquid. In her nad(veté she was unable to, and much of it dribbled out of her mouth and onto her chest, then down her belly.
As he groaned out the last of his climax, he slipped out of her, grabbed up a nearby towel, and tenderly wiped her face. Then, careless of any traces of his seed still remaining on her lips, he lifted her up and kissed her long and sweetly. He lay down with her on the bed, cuddling her, kissing her silky hair, caressing her cheek, whispering in her ear how much he loved her as she snuggled into his chest, profoundly happy for the first time in her life.
He awoke in the late evening to find her still snuggled against him. He propped up on one elbow and surveyed the scene: a beautiful, blind, preteen girl was naked and snuggled up against him, having been stripped naked and sexually punished by him, brought to a noisy orgasm by him, and having been orally raped by him. It was altogether the most glorious experience he had ever had. He had come to *****-ia to train local doctors in medical techniques, and to treat some of the government officials, so he had some influence and power. Which he had been somewhat counting on, as he had another purpose in coming, one which had been fortuitously fulfilled in a manner he did not intend: to obtain a preteen girl to be his little slave-daughter-wife. And now his deepest desire had come true, and in such a remarkable and delightful way!
The next few days they spent in a loving daze. He took her to the symphony, a jazz concert, to hear the birds at the park. He played, and she sang (a sweet little voice) *****-ian folk songs. He taught her Braille, to her evident delight.
Whenever he felt like it he would run his hands over her body through her clothes, or slip them up inside her blouse or skirt, molesting her charms as she moaned. He spanked her often, even tossing her skirt up on the edge of a public place and smacking her bottom, a few people noticing as if on the periphery of their vision, not quite sure what was going on, the brief discipline over before they could figure out that it was a preteen girl being spanked on her naked bottom, her little cleft exposed for any to see who were close enough.
Every evening before bed he punished her thoroughly, whipping her thighs, bottom, and breasts as she trembled and yelped. It was particularly attractive to him, that she could not see him. Of course, if she had her sight, he could still have used a blindfold, but she was so pretty, he was glad he didn't have to cover her looks up, and still have the same effect. He could walk quietly around her, and swing the crop, or belt, or switch, wherever he wanted to, and she'd have no idea where it would land next. It seemed to increase her anxiety nicely, such that, even before the stroke would land, she would already be whimpering and shivering. And, after he had punished her to orgasm, he finished by raping her mouth with welcome relief.
His frustration was building again, and he decided it was time to move on. That day he asked her, "Would you like to go with me on a little trip?" She agreed enthusiastically. She would go anywhere with him, and trusted him to make it wonderful for her.
He had been preparing for this, and had her travel papers and ticket ready. Before she knew it, she was in a large building, with many people walking around, and loudspeakers unintelligibly announcing...something, she couldn't make out what. She held his hand tightly as they threaded their way to their destination. She could tell that they stood in a short line, then walked down a narrow hallway, up a few steps, then they were in a very narrow corridor between what felt like padded seats. He settled her in one of them. It was quite comfortable.
"Would you like one of these, honey?" A friendly woman's voice was speaking to her, she could tell, but she didn't know what she was offering. She began to reach out to feel it, but her master's voice broke in.
"It's all right, you couldn't know; she's blind, she can't see what you're offering." He was speaking softly, so that only she and the woman could hear.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry! It-it's a pillow, dear, would you like one?"
"Yes, please, thank you very much. I'm sorry I couldn't tell what it was." She was sorry, too, that the woman was distressed. But where were they? Why did she bring her a pillow?
"We'll be taking off soon, so settle in and fasten your seat belts. I'll be back with lunch once we're in the air."
In the air! Did that mean...? She turned to her Master excitedly, but before she could even ask, he said, "Yes, little one, we're on a plane. Try and guess where we're going."
She sat back and thought of all the wonderful places he might take her. Her mind was a whirl. "Paris?"
"Paris is nice, but this is much more fun than Paris."
"Oh, tell me tell me, please tell me Master!" A few heads turned at this. Why did the little girl call her father 'Master'? Oh well, none of their business...
"I tell you what. You wait a little while and keep listening, and see if you can pick up any clues, OK?"
She gripped his arm as the plane accelerated for take-off. Idly, the other first-class passengers wondered why the little girl didn't look out the window...
Once in the air, Dr Ferrel took a blanket and spread it over her lap, solicitously. Then he slipped his hand underneath it, out of sight. Soon she had something to occupy her mind! She tried to keep her breathing soft, but she couldn't help the screwed-up look on her face as her Master seized her unfledged cleftlips, and pinched and twisted her clitoris. The other passengers probably just thought she was scared of flying, or perhaps a little air-sick...
She almost missed it. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Edwards speaking. We're cruising at 10,000 feet, we've got a good tailwind, and we should make Orlando ahead of schedule. The weather at DisneyWorld is fair, 80 degrees, with no rain in sight. Have a nice flight!"
She gasped, and one of her rare smiles lit up the cabin. He smoothly slid his hand up from her cleft and caressed her cheek. She pressed it against his hand in love and gratitude.
Her head was a whirl of emotion and expectation. The flight seemed to go so slow, and yet simultaneously it seemed like no time before they were settling in at the Polynesian.
Dr Ferrel had checked ahead of time, and it was as he expected: Disney does almost everything well. They even had an entire package for blind children. She was met at the door of the hotel by Goofy, who took her by the hand and helped her touch anything she wanted to, and pointed out special features to her. Of course there was Braille everywhere, and she delighted her hosts by reading out all the signs in *****-ian, and then in her halting English.
It was late, and there was no time to go to the park that evening, so they retired to their suite. Then it was Mickey who led Nadya by the hand as she giggled. Dr Ferrel followed with a tolerantly amused smile.
Those who saw them check in assumed they were father and daughter, perhaps even grandfather and granddaughter. How surprised and shocked they would have been to learn that they were married! And more than that, that the pretty little blind preteen girl was the grown man's slavegirl. And surely none of them dreamed that, in room 352, a little ten-year-old girl was going to be spanked, and molested, and raped by a grown man. But that's exactly what happened.
After she had relieved herself and bathed, he arranged her on her back, naked on the bed, and knelt over her, kissing her all over. Her forehead, her eyelids, her glabella, the tip of her sweet upturned nose, dusted with freckles. Then her soft mouth, butterfly kisses back from her, the tip of her tongue even darting out to touch his, bringing spasms to his rod! Then nibbling her neck, her delicate collarbone, then fastening onto first one nipple, then the other, sucking, pulling, biting as she moaned and writhed. Down to her bellybutton, pausing to blow a flurbish into it, making her giggle. "No laughing," he commanded, but with a smile in his voice, and smacked her once on her cleft, sharply, making her gasp.
Then he was there, essentially raping her preteen sex with his mouth, unceremoniously probing hard for her hymen as she arched and spasmed, rasping her unfledged labia with his tongue, then taking her turgid clitoris in long, excruciating bites between tongue and teeth as she nearly screamed, bucking and rocking, clearly approaching climax. He rose up, positioned his rampant rod at her cleftlips, and thrust firmly, raping her of her maidenhead, driving for her cervix, as she yelled once, loudly, then wept and wept, shoulders shaking, as he just held her, kissing the top of her head which barely reached his chest, rocking her softly. He stayed buried within her, not moving, but pulsating inside her, until her distress died down to the occasional sob and sniffle. He began to piston in and out of her, long, firm strokes, as she cried out rhythmically with each one. The experience was overwhelming. He loved her so much, she was so sweet, her little cleft was so tight and yet so soft, her little cries went straight to his brain as he raped her and raped her, and she danced on the end of his rod. Then she was coming, spasming, wrapping her little legs as far as they would go around him, pulling her hair, beating on his sides, screaming. And he came inside her, emptying his seed at her cervix, pinning her to the bed with each stroke, then finally collapsing beside her as they clung to each other in the afterglow. She fell asleep in his arms.
Later that night he awoke to find her still nestled up against him, her sweet naked body pressed close to his. His rod was stirring. He couldn't resist using her again, so he arranged her in position, chest on the bed, knees on the floor. She roused a bit, but didn't wake, until he began spanking her bottom! Then she awoke with a startled cry, staring about wildly. He swept her into his arms, cuddling her, rocking her, soothing away the night fear. She relaxed against him. Then, surprising him, she slid out of his hands and resumed her position! He hugged her, kissed her hair, called her his sweet beautiful little girl.
Then he spanked her and spanked her, again reddening her still-tender bottom as she yelped. He lubricated his free hand, reached around her, and seized her cleftlips and clitoris, kneading and working, pinching and pulling, as he continued her discipline. Soon she was nearing climax, and he was hard as a rock! He squirted some lubricant on her rosebud, placed the end of his rod there, and thrust deeply into her, raping her of the virginity of her anus as she screamed. He couldn't believe how amazingly stimulating it was, to have his rod buried deeply in the anus of his pretty, slender, preteen daughter-slave-wife! She was so tight, so warm; he could feel her sphincter tighten spasmodically on his shaft, reacting to the violation of so private a place. He stayed buried in her as she wailed, her shoulders shaking, for a few moments. Then she calmed down to the occasional sob and sniffle, so he commenced to rape her anus in earnest, with long, hard, fast thrusts, pounding into her as she cried out rhythmically, "AAAA-AAAA-AAAA!" He reached around and continued to molest her unfledged cleft and clitoris, as he violated her bottomflower, and soon she was coming again, yelping and yipping, and he came too, emptying his seed in her rectum, as she spasmed and arched under him. Again they collapsed together on the bed, he shifting his weight to one side so as not to crush her, as she continued to shudder and moan, until she fell asleep in his arms.
And, yes, they actually did leave the hotel room the next day and go to the Magic Kingdom; she was only ten, after all!
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