I am a rehabilitate slaves. The demographic they have chosen for me is the young girls, the ones who have been badly abused by their owners, and have been chosen as good enough to pursue normal lives. It's not a super well paying job, so I dabbled (well, worked in) stocks and other odd jobs in my other time. It hadn't been two weeks since I last sent Adelia back to the institution in a tearful farewell, when I got another call from the SRF (Slave Rehabilitation Facility).
"Hiya Jim!" It was a voice I recognized, the voice of the person who did most of the assignments in our area.
"Hi Thomas!" I replied. "I can only assume this means that you have another assignment for me, and so soon too."
"Wow, you're a cynical bastard. What if I just called to say hi?"
I sighed theatrically. "You never call just to say hi. And I JUST sent Adelia back. How's she doing, by the way?"
"See? Cynical. And Adelia's doing fine. She's so much more optimistic now, and really smart. But that's not what I'm here to talk about. You're right, you cynical bastard, I DO have another assignment for you, if you're willing to take it. It's quite difficult, but you're the best in our sector, so I might as well ask."
"Flattery gets you nowhere. But do tell, I am intrigued."
"Ha ha! I told them you'd do it! It's a girl, about seven, her name's Irene. I'll send you pictures and measurements and any preferences we can find by email. She was born a slave to...
well, can't tell you that either, but her mother wasn't very old. She was sexually abused as soon as possible, which we have deduced to be around two or three. She- "
"God!" I interrupted. "That's young! It's gonna be really ingrained in her, you know that right?"
"Yeah, I do, and I also know you're the best, so we're pretty much grasping at straws here. Anyway, when we found out about her, she was living like a dog, in her...father's and master's basement. She had been sexually abused, and in bondage. Luckily for us, her master hadn't gotten into the really heavy stuff yet, so we were able to heal the damages done to her. She's really, really shy, and almost never smiles, no matter what we throw at her. She's barely said three words since we got custody of her..."
"Damn." I said. "She's a tough nut to crack. Where do I go?"
"See what I told you? The best. And the same place, that airport, different terminal, here are the details..."
I browsed the email Thomas sent as I wrote down the details of where I would pick her up. Irene was an Asian girl. Her face was round and unsmiling in the pictures, but I saw hope there.
She was not emaciated anymore, but the signs showed, her legs were still a bit stick like, her sides hung too close to her ribs. But she was also a very pretty girl, when you looked at it, black hair going to waist length, trusting, dark brown eyes that seemed to capture you. She was totally naked in the pictures, and I was able to fully appreciate the rock hard nipples sticking out of her flat chest, and her small, small pussy hidden by her tightly shut legs. I took down her measurements after I had hung up.
The pick up went well, as it had the tens of times I had done it before. I had carefully cleaned the inside of my reasonably new Camry, and put in some pop music to listen on the way home. I wasn't the kind to talk while driving.
Irene arrived in a single, almost transparent white dress, which clashed wonderfully with her somewhat tan skin. She wore a sky blue bow in her hair, and she had tied her hair into a ponytail, which ran down her back.
We arrived at my house. My house is built like so: front door leads into small atrium leads to main "family" room, which has a couch and a television and a fireplace and an almost unused fancy dining table. To the side of the family room is the kitchen, which has the more used dining table and a sink and a refrigerator and an oven with a microwave above it and a small cabinet that was a pantry. To the other side (left, if coming in) was a hallway that split off into four rooms at the end of it. A reasonably spacious bathroom, which was on the same side as my room, a work room, and the room I kept for the girls I rehabilitated.
We walked in the front door, and I took off my sandals, while Irene took off her cheap looking crocs. I turned to her. "Hi Irene!"
She simply looked at me warily, ready to bolt. Well, it was worth a try, "You hungry?" I asked. I checked the clock. It was almost noon anyways. "I'm gonna make something to eat, you want anything?"
Her eyes never left my face. I heard her mutter something under her breath.
"What was that?"
She looked surprised. "Uhhh...sugar." Cool. I had taken the liberty of using some of my own money and buying random snacks that I thought Irene might like, and sugar cookies was among them. But I saw another advantage here.
"Would you like to make cookies? I have sugar and flour and milk and eggs..."
She looked even more stunned. She nodded.
"Okay, but we need to do that after lunch, because I'm hungry for something a bit more...filling than cookies."
She nodded again. A girl of few words.
So I made us lunch, submarine sandwiches. I asked her what she wanted, and she shrugged, a bit uncomfortably. I made mine simple, turkey with tomato and lettuce and pickles. For hers, I got tuna and mayonnaise and lettuce and tomato and peppers...the whole lot of it. It was nearly overflowing with food, and I saw her eye it hungrily.
And we ate. Neither of us spoke, and I took the silence to watch her eat. She ate ferociously, taking huge chunks out of the sandwich with each bite. Crumbs, pieces of lettuce, and other debris fell onto her dress, and more often than not were simply left there. Within her first two bites, I got her something to drink, a mug filled with apple juice. She took it and took huge gulps, her throat moving. I filled as she drank it and put it down.
In the end, she finally finished. Her stomach bulged nicely, but her dress, and the ground was a mess. Letting out a huge burp, she looked around, and realized, with dawning horror, what she had done.
"Oh...oh no!" she wailed. She futilely tried to sweep the mess up, than surrendered. "I'm sorry!" She dropped to her knees before me, and her hands began to scrabble at the waistband of my jeans, getting the button open and the zipper halfway down before I managed to stop her. Yes, I understood she wanted to have sex with me. Yes, I had a hard on. Yes, I had made love with little girls before. In fact, one of the parts of rehabilitation was to associate sex with happiness, especially for those girls who had been sexually abused. And, as much as I wanted to see those luscious Asian lips around my hard cock, this wasn't the time to do that.
"Not right now." I said gently, pushing her head away. She looked stunned.
"I'm...I'm sorry sir." She stood up, pointed her ass at me, then pulled up her dress and pushed down her frilly white panties. "We can start right where you want, sir. Hurt me, please, sir. I am your filthy bitch and whore, sir." Tears ran in streams down her face, and I felt my heart breaking every time she called me sir, in that lusty, yet fake voice.
I walked over to kneel beside her head, and cupped her cheeks in my hands. Irene didn't move from her position. I kissed her gently on the lips, ignoring her attempt to french kiss with me.
"Don't worry about it, Irene," I whispered, wiping away her tears. "Go down the hall, first door to your left, and pick out some clothes from the dresser. They're all yours. When you come back, we can make those sugar cookies you so wanted. Mmmkay?"
Her eyes glowed with gratitude and trust. I felt good for getting her to trust me.
"Are you...are you sure, sir? Can we? Can I?"
I waved her along, barely suppressing a smile.
"Yes, go. I'll get everything out, and clean up your little mess."
I cleaned up reasonably fast, with a little vacuum, and got everything out, milk, measuring cups, eggs, bowl, flour, while I heard her open and close the drawers of the chest of drawers in her room numerous times. I heard the rustling of clothing, and even a few sighs, for perhaps the few that didn't fit. Well, I had bought a lot, in varying sizes.
I had finished and was sitting at the table, reading "1984" by George Orwell, when she walked in. I almost dropped the book when I saw her radiant body. She was absolutely naked, but not in a naughty way, although the way her eyes glinted suggested she could be naughty any way we wanted to. She walked toward me a bit shyly, trying to hide her pussy between her legs.
"All the clothes...they were so nice...and I'm so messy...I couldn't wear any of them...I'm sorry sir..."
I laughed. "Don't worry about it, Irene. And don't call me sir. If you're Irene to me, then I'm Jim to you. Now let's get started on those cookies!"
We had the most grand time. She learned how to crack eggs and beat eggs for the first time, and simply loved kneading the thick, moldable dough. Flour went everywhere, powdering my front and her whole, sexy body. My cock was rock hard, but I ignored it for the time being.
We finally had all the dough we needed, and were getting ready to take it and put it on the baking sheets. She stopped me before I had the first scoop. Her eyes carried seductiveness in them, but more importantly, trust and love as well, which was the beginning of the journey. She had finally learned to love. Irene took the bowl of dough and set it on the ground.
"You know what cookies need?"
"No. What?" I said, smiling.
"They need love. My old master" she still said the word with a bit of reverence, "used to give me cookies for good sex. But they were terrible, even as they were sweet. I think we'll make these better."
She undid my pants and pulled them down, all in one swift movement. She observed my stiff cock as it sproinged out.
"You need to piss," she declared. I did, but how did she know?
"I can smell it," she said, with a grin. I smiled back at her, but inwardly shuddered at how she had learned this. Damn, this girl was farther down than I thought. Still, she was happy now...
She stuck my cock in her mouth and swirled it around a bit, grinning as my facial expression changed from a smile to pleasure. "You can pee now," she said around my cock.
Abandoning all pretenses, I did. I felt ashamed for it afterwards, though. Irene was able to easily drink all that I shot into her, even licking the tip clean afterwards.
"That's great!" she exclaimed. "Now we can put the love into the dough."
Right, the dough. I had forgotten about that. I forgot about everything else as she began to fist my cock hard. The rigid thing grew even harder as she stroked it, and, as if an afterthought, sucked the tip, slowly working downwards.
"I'm...about to cum." I informed her in a heavy voice. She simply nodded, and took the cock out of her mouth and pointed it at the dough, still fisting. The three white blasts and the last little droplets fell onto the dough, slowly oozing their way down. She giggled.
"See! That's your love. Now for mine." She stood up and braced her back against the sink. Her fingers began to rub her clit, in a circular motion. She looked simply delicious, eyes closed, face to the sky, one hand grabbing at support. I had to eat.
I move my face close to Irene's pussy, feeling the heat of her body before I even got there. I slowly traced my tongue up her small crack, and her hand fell away to give me better access. Her pussy tasted exquisite, and I stretched her with my fingers as I pushed my tongue deeper. She came surprisingly fast, aiming the small spurts also into the dough.
We kneaded the dough again, making it so that it was as perfect as the first time. Irene was dirty with flour dust, as was our workplace. Still, it was totally worth it as we separated the dough onto the cookie sheets. I put them in the preheated oven and they began to bake.
"Irene, go and take a shower." I ordered. "You really do need one." She glanced down at her body, whitened by flour, and nodded. "First door on the right!" I called as she rushed off.
I cleaned up, and sat down to read again. I heard the faint sounds of the shower running, and even Irene singing some Asianic song. It all cut off as soon as the oven alarm rang, and I heard some shrieks from the bathroom even as I drew out the cookies with oven mitts.
"Are they done, are they done?" came the impatient question like a machine gun. Irene was very nearly bouncing, and her hair still had some shampoo bubbles in it. I laughed.
"Yes, they're done," I answered. "But they need a few minutes to cool down. Go and finish your shower." This diminished her eagerness none as her ass wiggled its way back to the shower.
The cookies were good. I barely had three, as Irene devoured them all. She was still totally naked, but didn't care a bit as she ate cookie after cookie, disregarding all table manners.
I would need to teach her some in the future.
We spent the rest of the afternoon doing many things. I went back to stocks as she read books from my bookshelf, difficult things for her age, like "Fahrenheit 451" and "Brave New World", occasionally asking what a word meant.
She finally put on some clothing, some really short shorts and a shirt five sizes too small, it looked, that didn't go down to her shorts and emphasized her pert nipples.
We went to bed in the same bed that night, I with only my boxers, she with absolutely nothing. Irene claimed she didn't want to sleep alone, that she was too scared. I soon found out her real reason for getting into bed nude.
"I think I'm addicted to you, Jim," she whispered sensually.
My eyebrows shot up in the darkened room.
"I need you, Jim, for the rest of my life. I can't live without you. Even now, I feel my dependence growing...I don't want to ever leave you."
This was a problem. "Well...Irene...you must understand you eventually will need to. You need to get a life of your own, maybe a husband, kids, an education. You'll forget about me eventually."
"No I won't," came the answer, in a soft, singing voice. There was no protest, simply stated fact. "I'll always be with you, whenever you need me, whenever I need you. In fact..."
She trailed off. I felt some moving, then my boxers mysteriously vanished as my cock sprang up. I heard Irene giggle.
"It's so big!" she exclaimed. "I can't wait until I can fit it inside me. I've already started practicing, you know, with my fingers." My cock grew even larger as I imagined that. "I fit my other master's" her voice was filled with scorn "cock into me, but it was tiny! I didn't need to stretch at all! But you...mmmmm..."
She ended that sentence by gobbling my cock, bringing her mouth and tongue all the way up to the tip, fondling the tip, and slamming them back down, licking my balls. Her hands massaged my legs and balls, very sensually. I felt I needed to do something too.
"Move your pussy over here, Irene."
She did. I first just relaxed for a moment, feeling so calm and relaxed, enjoying the scent of her, enjoying the view as her pussy dripped onto my face. Then, I lunged forward and sucked her.
I licked and I stroked with my fingers and I kissed. I started off lightly, but it became obvious she wanted more when she pressed her pussy harder down on my face. Between us both, it became a competition to see who could cum first. She bobbed harder up and down, were that possible. Her hands focused on my cock now, rubbing her spit and my precum all over. I gave up all pretenses and used my fingers to pry her pussy open, so I could get at her deepest, most intimate areas with my tongue.
We came at the same time. Her tense legs and back shuddered and relaxed as she spurted a few times over my face. She inadvertently bit the tip of my cock when she did this, and this drove me over the edge. I filled her mouth with cum, which she swallowed, blast after blast. She cleaned me up afterwards, making sure to get the base as well.
Irene moved her head back up to where mine was. She began to lick the girl cum off my face.
"Mmmm...I taste so good. My other master used to store my cum up, then he'd make me drink only it for a whole week. I hated it. Maybe it's your face...maybe it's you that taste good...mmmm..."
She finished her tongue bath, and I was more or less clean of her cum. "You know, mas-Jim, I can take it in my ass. It's already very stretched, I can take nearly anything up there.
Wanna do it? I need you, Jim. I want you inside me...I think I'm addicted to your cum." She licked her lips sexily. Oh god, this would be a problem if I had to leave her. When I had to leave her, I corrected myself. But even now, I was considering keeping her finally having a companion that would stay with me for a long time, a stable, loving little girl who would provide for me everything my life lacked...
I was so lost in my train of thought, I didn't even notice we had prepared to do anal. Using her spit, she had lubricated the outside of her ass and my cock, saying "Those are the only things that need lubricant anyways." Then, she got into doggystyle position, ass wiggling up in the air, pussy just barely visible from where I was above her.
I rubbed my hard cock against her hole once or twice, then slowly pushed the head in. Her asshole yielded reluctantly, but she gave gasps of pleasure as I went deeper. I hit my balls against her pussy, and I was surprised that she could take all of my cock in her ass. She half turned her head to look at me.
"What are you waiting for?" she said with a giggle. "Move!"
So I did, thrusting gently. It soon became apparent I could easily thrust much harder, as Irene began to slam her ass against me. I pushed harder and harder inside her, reveling in her soft warmth, leaning over her slim, tanned body to play a bit with her tiny, hard nipples, nuzzling her hair and reveling in her scent It almost felt like we were one person, so close together. We moaned in unison, and Irene put her head down so she could use her hands to play with her pussy. Near the end, her hands thrashed at her vagina, moving in and out so fast they were almost a blur.
The first blast went into her ass, but I pulled out for the rest, shooting it over her back and some accidentally onto the green bedspread. Her legs and body shuddered for a few seconds after I pulled out, then she collapsed.
"Oh Jim...that felt so good! But now I'm dirty again, so we have to take a shower..."
We did, a short one, no sex, although we did fondle and kiss for a while. Back in bed, I didn't bother putting on boxers again, enjoying the feel of Irene's soft, warm body and steady breathing. She cuddled so closer she nearly fused with me, it felt like, but I liked it, wrapping my arms around her.
If only this could be forever, as she wished it.
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