Author: Lizard69 Title: Moms Secret Life Keywords: mf, Mf, ff, Fm, Fdom Summary: If we knew our parents as well as they know us, would they still retain the authority of parents? This is a work of fiction. If you have trouble with the boundary between fact and fantasy, don't read it. If the story codes following the title freak you out, don't read it. If I mis-coded drop me a note through the author email link at ASSTR. Do not under any circumstances forward this file to anyone that hasn't specifically requested it. In case you haven't figured it out yet this is intended as *adult* entertainment. Do not allow it to be accessed by minors. If you have inadvertently downloaded it in a jurisdiction where such material isn't legal please delete it immediately. Do not re-post in whole or in part without this notice. Do not repost on any "for profit" site without my specific written permission. Copyright 2012 by Lizard69. Moms Secret Life (mf, Mf, ff, Fm, Fdom) By Lizard69 Everyone has some special memory. A triumph, a tragedy, a discovery, in my case it's all of the above and more. I was having some rough times the year I turned fourteen. Each of us only grows up once so I can't really say if my problems were worse than anyone else had. They were certainly out of the mainstream. I've since discovered it really isn't *that* unusual for a wife or girlfriend to nudge her man into experimenting. Bisexuality though is enough of a hurdle the nudge has to be closer to bribes or blackmail. So I guess the fact that I was already in the middle of an, uh, experiment, when the young lady who would become my first girlfriend walked in on us puts me pretty far out on the fringe. If so, I certainly have plenty of company. You've met a few of those women with that lean greyhound build? Not especially pretty, or even cute, until they flash you a smile that could write a novel... a pornographic one? Those women don't pop into the world full grown. Imagine one in her early teens eagerly exploring life and love, cautious about giving some creep access to her own cute tail but if she's only watching, the kinkier the better. I wasn't exactly pretty either but I didn't start to bulk up until my late twenties. At the time Pam and I hooked up any creep who was hot for her tail generally considered mine an acceptable substitute. I'm tempted to say the real pervo's didn't show up until she got her friend Cheryl involved in the dick hunt, but nobody Cheryl hooked me up with could quite match Pam's uncle Phil as a total sleaze. I've heard some guys end up seeing a shrink to deal with the trauma of having their mom catch them jacking off when they were kids. I guess some people are really fragile that way. When the stuff I was involved in sort of blew up in my moms face I'd have happily jerked off if it would have distracted her from the real issue. No such luck. I'll give her credit, when she tore into me it wasn't about my preferences so much as my lack of discretion. She wasn't happy about me letting a couple girls put me through slut training but was able to tolerate something she didn't have much hope of changing. It was the risk to my health and reputation that royally lit her fuse. I can't even kick about her dragging the whole problem, with me at the center of it, over to her sisters house. She wasn't going to deal with it alone and if the alternative was getting my dad involved, well, I figured this would let me salvage a few shreds of dignity. I was wrong, but really how could I have known? How well do any of us really know our parents? I already had a bad feeling going before I found out my cousin Erin was part of the deal. She was a college junior majoring in abnormal psych. She also had hips wide enough to balance her luscious tits and a blonde pixie cut with matching dimples hiding the mind of a sexual sadist. I'd call her a sadistic dyke but she's much too obsessed with cocks to be completely lez, even if she's mainly interested in tormenting them. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Most of this I didn't find out until later. That first session of, "true confessions ", wasn't as difficult as I anticipated. I'd already been kind of sorting things out by talking with Pam's mom. You'd think that once you cleared the hurdle of actually doing some kinky pervert sex act, talking about it wouldn't be so tough. You'd be half right. Discussing it with the people who were there, the ones who helped set it up, was no big deal. Talking to your girlfriends mother puts it on a whole different level. Fortunately Ellen, Pam's mom, had some training and a genuine desire to help. Erin, on the other hand, let me know right away she had her own agenda, if I was willing to play along. Why is it that when a person makes one shocking and unflattering admission we tend to give their later statements more credit? Instead of becoming more cautious and keeping our distance we're impressed with their openness and honesty regardless of personal cost or the risk we will think less of them. By landing on me with both feet my mom had just reinforced her status as an authority figure. By keeping mom from blowing up when she walked in on the adult toy party where I was the, "product demonstrator", Nancy had established herself as a higher authority. Not that she needed to, mom had always deferred to her older sister. My grandmother had died before I was born so it didn't strike me as odd that I'd followed her lead and accepted Nancy as sort of an over mom. Erin wasn't much older than me but she was a grown woman and in college so I found her more than a little intimidating. If I'd thought about it I would have been curious about the way moms deference towards Nancy seemed to include her daughter as well. I know better now. My guard was already down when Erin led me outside to meet Bruno that late afternoon. Being out of the room where the older women were viewing and discussing the souvenir photos of my more embarrassing moments felt like escaping from a trap. Erin's frank admission of being, "evil", and ready to mess with my head, "if I'd let her", relaxed me further. I was hardly aware of how her tone and manner were defining her as an authority figure nearly equal to her mom. Enough that I didn't even think of getting up and walking away when she started an explicit description of what it would be like to let Bruno, their English Mastiff, "make me his bitch". It took me a couple of weeks to discover she was already, "messing with my head", and her notion of , "if I'd let her", had more to do with my inability to stop it than any sort of consent. Erin had planted a mental land mine with her explicit description. I stepped on it when I was helping my mom decorate the Christmas tree two weeks later and we both felt the explosion. Moms top rode up while she was reaching for the higher branches exposing some skin above the waistband of her jeans. That wouldn't have mattered. She wasn't in the habit of showing a lot of skin but I'd seen more. It was just skin. She wasn't sexy... she was mom. This time something caught my eye, fine lines like healed scratches, scars actually, on either side of her waist, starting somewhere above the bottom edge of her blouse and disappearing under the waistband of her low rise jeans. I made it to the bathroom without tipping her off, but it didn't help much. I was hardly over the initial shock when I had to either go back out or make her curious about what was keeping me. I tried to blow it off, pretend that nothing was wrong, but like I said, this was mom. I might as well have written the problem on my forehead. It would have taken her longer to puzzle out a mirror image message than it did for her to notice where I *wasn't* looking. She went white at first, then red, more angry than embarrassed but that was there too. "Young man, you are the absolute *last* person on earth that is in any position to judge me. Unfortunately there is nothing I can do to stop it. What I can do is make sure you know the whole story. This isn't the time I'd have chosen to tell it. Truthfully it's none of your damn business, but your father will be home in a couple of hours and I don't want you shooting your mouth off through ignorance. "Early in our relationship your father decided there are some things about me he didn't need or want to know. Because of what you've guessed you don't have that luxury. I suppose it's only fair. Discovering your recent antics has put me in the position of knowing more than I'd like. So you can damn well shut up and listen while we finish trimming the tree. "Mom, your grandmother, died in a car crash when I was twelve. Nancy was fourteen, which doesn't seem like that much now and maybe wasn't then. Maybe it was more a matter of attitude or temperament. Regardless, dad didn't take it well either. I guess there was enough of a resemblance we reminded him of his loss. He was a long haul trucker. At a time when I needed him home more than anything, he started coming home less and less. "Nancy was way too young to try to be a mom and I was one of those, 'cling on', kids. I was barely starting to outgrow it at twelve while she'd been completely the opposite from day one. She resented that I was, 'cheating her out of her childhood'. I don't know if it was a juvenile impulse to get even, or a case of absolute power corrupting absolutely. Maybe she just had a mean streak mother was no longer there to squash. Somewhere in that first six months she decided that if she had to grow up early she was going to make sure I did too. "That was about when my period started. Mom had, 'the talk', with Nancy a couple years earlier and now she passed it on to me. Only I got a different version. At least I hope so. Looking back I can't understand how I could possibly have believed the things Nancy was telling me. All I can say now is that I desperately needed somebody to be there for me and Nancy was all I had. When I got cramps she, 'explained', that it was because I wasn't masturbating enough. I know now it was the muscle contractions from the orgasms giving me relief. Kegel exercises would have worked as well and were probably what she used. "At the time, she had me convinced that puberty was when girls found out who was going to grow up to be a, 'lady', and who would become a worthless little slut. Masturbation was only the beginning. Not all girls mature exactly the same way or at exactly the same time. She watched me like a hawk, pointing out every little way I was different and telling me how, 'concerned', she was. After getting me worried, she'd get this odd look on her face and assure me that of course I could count on her to keep my shameful secret. Soon she had me so neurotic I was looking at every thing I said or did searching for some hope that I might, 'escape my fate'. She caught me studying books on etiquette and deportment, and offered to help me practice, 'concealing my true nature'. "Nancy started dating but was very careful to keep everything open and innocent. Not only did she want to impress me that unlike a certain younger sister, *she* was a lady, there were several old biddies in our neighborhood. Every one of them was looking for a chance to call social services and report the truckers brats. Besides, while she loved the attention, she had no desire to, 'put out', for some pimply Romeo. "Then came her first big crush. Group outings and study dates at our dining room table, with the drapes open so anybody could look in and see nothing was going on weren't enough. One day walking home from school Nancy told me it was time to, 'make myself useful'. He was going to break up with her if he didn't start getting some physical affection. She made it crystal clear that she was going to be a virgin on her wedding night. Then she swore him to utmost secrecy and revealed the cross she had born for so long. A little sister who was obviously destined to become a wanton slut. "She told him I was still innocent because she'd spotted it early and made sure I was never alone with a boy. I wasn't in love and probably never would be. The best a girl like me could hope for was to be in heat but even that wasn't necessary. In fact, if he went out of his way to make my first experience crude and humiliating he'd be doing me a favor. It would make me hesitate to do it again and slow my, 'descent into complete depravity'. "At first I was so horrified that she had revealed my, 'condition', my mind wouldn't take it any further. I didn't find out what she considered, 'crude', until we got home. Much later I found out this wasn't a response to a crisis for her. I still don't know how she negotiated the terms of his, uh, satisfaction. I doubt if he had much influence. Nancy wasn't interested in keeping him happy, just keeping him. I was bluntly informed that I would do as I was told if I wanted her to continue, 'helping', me. "She had thought through what she wanted, while I was caught clueless. She, 'prepared', me for him like some farmer running a cow through the pens to its breeding stall. First my room, to get out of my school clothes, then into the shower. After that it was her room and my first bikini wax. She didn't want him seeing my little bit of fluff and thinking I was just a kid. He wasn't there yet. She had told him a time that would have let her deal with any resistance from me. She filled in by pretending to consider where I should do it, running down a list of places where, 'normal', girls lost their virginity. You know, places like my bedroom, the living room couch, or the back seat of dads car. Deciding that all of those were, 'too romantic', she led me out to the garage and had me lay down on a weight bench dad used when he was home. She took something off a shelf and dangled it in front of me. I recognized a red rubber ball from the kitchen junk drawer. Somebody had punched a hole and threaded a boot lace through it. "Nancy explained that he wasn't my lover, or even my boyfriend. She would do all the talking necessary. I was to stuff this in my mouth and tie it behind my head. I would lay there like a pig with an apple in it's mouth while he, 'worked out his animal impulses'. The doorbell rang and while she went to let him in I did as I was told. My hands shook so bad I could hardly tie a knot and tears were overflowing the corners of my eyes to run back into my hair, but I didn't even consider disobeying her. "I heard their voices, much too loud, and turned my head to see that she hadn't closed the door to the front hall. Nancy laid on a deep wet kiss, slowly rubbing her body against his while his hands traveled up and down her back until she was pulling them away from her ass and sharply telling him, 'none of that'. She practically dragged him into the garage and I swear his eyes got as big as the ball in my mouth. "She'd made me insert objects while masturbating so he didn't take my cherry in any physical sense. She'd also made it clear there'd be hell to pay if I offended him. I look back on it now and can't understand how I could blindly accept an order not to offend my rapist. I laid there with my legs spread, staring up at the unfinished rafters, and gripping the uprights near my shoulders so hard my fingers went numb, to keep from trying to push him off of me. "The first time was quick. Nancy laughed about hardly having time to get the books out for their study date. I had to stay in the garage so I don't know how much actual studying got done. There was a lot more giggling and whispering than I ever did during history or algebra. Twice more she told him he was getting, 'distracted', and sent him out for a garage break. When she finally walked him to the door, he whispered something and nodded towards me. She thought about it for a second and called me out. He left after a double goodnight kiss, Nancy teasing his tongue while I knelt naked in front of him sucking his cock. "If you had my notebooks from back then you'd see more than a few tear stained pages. Two or three times a week I was doing my homework out in Athe garage. Nancy broke up with her first crush. She didn't have any trouble changing boyfriends, it was the idea that one of them might dump *her* that she found intolerable. "Another thing she couldn't tolerate was the idea that I might begin to like any of the boys. While requiring me to service them sexually, she made damn sure I understood that was all I was doing for them, providing a service, getting their load off. Any of them who showed the slightest sign that they might prefer my company to hers were gone in a heartbeat. The few times I was foolish enough to ask she explained how she was protecting me from a dangerous degenerate and how I should be glad she discovered his nature in time. "The boys close to my own age were just normal teens, horny as hell and looking for any release they could get. She had to settle for convincing me that normal, horny, teenage sex was *low* and *animal*. If I got any sort of pleasure from it I was a, 'bitch in heat' or a 'sow in rut'. She used that last one a lot and soon had me extremely self conscious about my weight. I was never fat but I've always carried a little more padding than I would have liked. I might have developed an eating disorder but since she was the cause it was easy enough for her to get ahead of it. After putting me on a meal plan she made me keep a body log, plotting my weight and measurements against a chart showing the normal range for my age and body type. I already hated the ball gag because of the way guys reacted to it. The thing was like some pervert sex version of having a kick me sign on my back. It's like they had to push the limits just because I couldn't tell them to stop. Whenever I got, 'off the curve', outside the upper limits of what I should weigh, she'd bring out the ball gag. After the guy left she'd tease me about my, 'happy little cum pig squeals and grunts'. "I can see now what she was doing. Gradually she was taking total control over me while disguising it as helping. What should have been my normal life became, 'keeping up appearances'. She let me start dating, but only if I doubled with her so she could chaperon. My friendships with boys had to be totally platonic. She picked my clothes, approved what little makeup she allowed me to wear, chose my elective classes and made me study. She controlled where I was, who I was with, even what I ate. To the world we were those nice Taylor kids, a couple of fresh scrubbed young girls from the burbs. We were growing up with almost no supervision and doing a damn fine job of it. They never knew that me and Nancy were growing up in two different worlds. "The house kept so neat, the carefully chosen clothes, the selected friends and activities, that was Nancy's world. That was where she lived. To me it was a stage set with costumes and props. A cast she selected played the roles she chose for them. My only place in that world was to play a role she wrote for me. "My world, my real world, was carefully hidden. Nancy directed there as well, but it wasn't the sort of show you'd find at the local theater, at least not one kids could get into. It wasn't like the double life of superheros in the TV shows either. There were no secret passages, no masks and capes, no bat cave. In a way that would have been easier. Being escorted to a dungeon in chains, to be used and abused would have been a role I could forget about when I wasn't actually playing it out. "I, and Nancy of course, were the only ones who knew why my closet had such a wide selection of belts and scarves. Somebody pawing through the kitchen junk drawer would see the red rubber ball, but when the boot lace wasn't threaded through it that's all it was. It may have looked a little puppy chewed but that wouldn't raise any eyebrows even if they knew we'd never owned a dog. "The way some people enjoy Sudako or word search puzzles Nancy delighted at finding perverse ways to use common things. The need to conceal my, 'problem', kept her from, 'permitting' me to acquire any recognizable adult toys. She could have thrown her finds in a box somewhere. Unless you knew how they were being used on me it would have been nothing more than a box of random household items. Because they were common things with conventional uses she refused to buy a second set of them. Soon there wasn't a room in the house that didn't hold at least one item with a sexual connotation... for *me*. Anyone else saw a place right out of, "Better Homes and Gardens". "Some parts of the house were worse than others. When she wanted to try something new, it usually took place in the garage. If the particular act was physically pleasurable, or at least tolerable, she would later make me perform it in other venues. The list of things that would only happen there was never long, but truly terrible. Telling me to meet her in the garage is still enough to turn me into a quivering wreck. "The sewing room was worse. After the funeral dad dumped most of moms personal stuff in there, then never went in again. I don't blame him. I couldn't go in there without missing mom so bad it hurt. Mostly Nancy kept me in line by convincing me she was the only person on earth who could like me in spite of my twisted nature. Occasionally I'd rebel. She'd direct me to perform some act of sexual theater so depraved or painful that it was beyond my limits. Instead of hitting, or screaming at me, she would get very calm and quiet. As soon as we were alone she would take me into the sewing room and deliver this whole, 'more in sorrow than anger', act. What would mom think of all the things I'd already done, the things Nancy had tried so hard to conceal from decent people. If she wasn't already dead it would kill her to see how ungrateful I was for all the, 'help', I'd been given. "She was an expert travel agent when it came to sending me on a guilt trip. She only had to do it a couple of times. After that first visit to the sewing room I was certain I would do *anything* rather than have that happen again. Well, anything covers more than a twelve year old or her older sister can imagine. So yes, I had a couple more heavy guilt sessions before I finished high school. "Hon, I realize this whole thing is probably too much information. If it were just Nancy and me walking in on that porn party you wouldn't be hearing any of this. She would give me a chance to explain if there was something about me she thought you needed to know. Erin might, or she might try for the most in surprise and shock value. If you are going to find out about this part of my life I'd like to try to put the best face on it possible. "After I got over the initial shock of being required to provide sexual services to Nancy's male friends, it... well, it... Oh God! I'm trying to say it wasn't so bad but that would be a lie. It was awful or worse, but with repetition it became... not easier... but, well, less impossible. That first time was absolutely devastating. I was so completely innocent that she had me convinced I was some sort of deviant for *masturbating*. When he finally zipped his fly and slipped out the door I couldn't even get up off my knees. I was like, 'what now?', I couldn't imagine even living after something like that. Eventually my knees hurt and I felt like I was going to throw up so I managed to wobble my way to the bathroom. I was still there when Nancy came in to get ready for bed. I thought... I don't know what I thought. Maybe I was hoping she would apologize, or tell me it was all some kind of huge misunderstanding. "Fat chance! She snarled at me to clean myself up and quit pretending it was a big deal for somebody like me. She was willing to cover for my, 'indiscretions', but didn't have any time for drama. She for damn sure wasn't going to put up with me dragging my ass around the house naked like some two bit whore waiting for her next trick. The next morning it all came flooding back. Then the alarm went off and she chased me out of bed and made me get ready for school. She acted like nothing had happened all the way to school and by the time we got there I had pulled myself together enough to get through the day somehow. We did our homework at the dining room table and helped each other fix supper just like normal. The next day it was more of the same. I started feeling like, if she could ignore it, I could too. "The next day her boyfriend walked home with us. Before I would hang back a little to keep from looking like I wanted to get in the middle of their conversation. Now I stayed back a little further. I really *didn't* want to know what they were talking about. When I got to the front door they were waiting for me in the hall. Nancy grabbed my book bag with one hand and gave me a little shove towards the garage with the other. I stood there speechless while she put my books at one end of the work bench where dad kept a stool and desk lamp for when he needed to read shop manuals. She came over to the weight bench, stopped in front of me, and offered to hang up my school clothes if I was quick about it. If I dropped them on the dirty garage floor *I* was the one that would have to worry about getting them clean later. "I was ready to tell her the first time was one too many and they would both rot in hell before I did that again. Oh, I was going to put up one hell of a fight. I never had a chance. The way she stood there, calm and open, maybe a little impatient. It was like... we were already *way* past the time to argue. I looked in her eyes and realized he wasn't *going* to fuck me, he already had. It didn't matter to her if this was round four or forty. It was a continuation of something he was already doing to me. She left the garage a few minutes later with everything but my shoes and socks. There was no ball gag and my half of his goodnight kiss got him hard for the third round instead of adding to a long goodbye. Otherwise it was a replay of the first assault. "I told myself I could endure it until dad got home, then couldn't work up the nerve to tell him before he went back out on the road. Then I was sure I'd make it stop when she dumped the first guy for somebody new. Next it was, 'ok I'll lay here but I'm not going to *do* anything.' Then it was, 'I'll do what I'm told but I'm not going to offer to do stuff.' By the time she was dating guys old enough to drive it was, 'I'll dance naked at home but not at a party.' "She was never abusive in a purely physical sense. It was never, 'We can have Larry come over and fuck you, or I can tie you to the bed and whip you 'til you scream.' She didn't have to. Mom had been my anchor. I needed her approval like a flower needs sunshine. It was always there for me, withheld only when I was being a serious brat, which never lasted long. Then mom was gone and Nancy was the only one there to care about me. While mom's approval was like the sun, Nancy's was more like metered irrigation water. I was expected to grow as she directed or risk having the trickle of water cut off completely. She used it to train me, as impersonally as housebreaking a puppy but much more thoroughly. "There was also a level of uncertainty. What pleased her once, wouldn't, or might even annoy her if I did it on my own initiative. The only time I could be certain I'd get her approval was when I instantly made the correct response to the signals she was giving me. Privately, I could be almost a peer, after it was firmly established that Nancy was in charge. Publicly, I was her kid sister, but she was always careful to be noticeably more tolerant and considerate than her classmates were of their younger siblings. Not for my benefit. It got her more respect from the adults she had to deal with. After giving me a reason to masturbate, she assigned me a sexual status as well. I was a deviant, destined to become a slut. "For her, scripting my sexual role play began as a hobby. She didn't become sexually aroused at first. That came later along with her understanding of how serious it was to me. Don't get me wrong. I'm not making excuses for her. She was on her own personal power trip. The only relevance my desires had for her was the magnitude of her, 'win', by overriding them. While she later had some regrets about her lack of sensitivity, she freely admits it wouldn't have improved things for me, just enhanced her enjoyment of what she was doing. "To be fair, it wasn't all her failure to listen. I found her suggestions regarding masturbation fantasies and techniques too embarrassing for serious discussion. The transition from pleasuring myself during intensely private and very guilty moments, to full sexual intercourse, was so abrupt I lacked the language to adequately describe it. She obtained my... compliance, with so little difficulty that she dismissed the effects the assaults had on me as 'drama'. The few protests I had the nerve to make were nothing but empty whining intended to save face. "Even with the things you've done I'm not sure I can make you understand. Back then, rape was some stranger dragging a girl into the bushes or an alley. Those were the ones that got reported because if they caught the guy his best shot at defense was convincing the jury they had the wrong man. Much more often a girl gets raped by somebody she knows. Not a friend, she might not even know his name, but it will be somebody she's seen before and can identify. If he can't use the, 'not me', defense the only other option is to claim it was consensual. That's pretty lame if he hasn't said six words to her before the assault, but it's still his word against hers. More of these guys get caught than strangers but fewer get convicted and there are less of them reported. Unless he beat them bloody or bragged to his friends afterwards, most girls then would rather let him get away than have their reputation publicly put under a microscope. Date rape wasn't even a prosecutable crime. If she had male relatives they might come after you. Her former boyfriend or her next one? Dream on! Incest? If a male relative were caught in the act he might get the crap beat out of him by decent people but the reason would never be heard outside the family. More likely she would suddenly decide to go live with a maiden aunt. The girl herself wouldn't be believed if she had the nerve to report anything so shameful to the authorities. "I couldn't report the first assault because it was so outrageously unlikely nobody would believe me. Later, the whole situation was so unspeakably perverse I was terrified that somebody might discover what was going on. Nancy on the other hand, didn't seen to be aware of this. Oh, she was concerned with protecting her reputation and that meant she had to take care of mine as well. To her I was *reluctant* to, 'help her out'. I needed to be *persuaded* to, 'do her a small favor'. She literally did not *believe* I was being raped, while she herself was instigating it. It was easy enough to keep the first few quiet. With both our words against theirs they knew they'd be in deep if anyone found out. Besides, they were dating the, 'Ice Queen', 'Princess Blue Balls', who was well known for not doing anything with anyone. Publicly I was the chaperon, not the, 'stunt cunt', there to spread my legs when that was too risky for Nancy. "Then she started dating a couple classes ahead of her. High school boys would date a middle school girl if she was as pretty as Nancy and they thought she had something to offer. Even in high school back then very few boys went, 'all the way', with their steady before senior prom. Most of the time it took an engagement ring to pry her legs open. "That should have made it easier for me. Teenage boys aren't exactly known for discretion. With Nancy dating high school I didn't have to cope with seeing any of her boyfriends hanging around middle school halls, saying God knows what to their friends who hadn't had me yet. They weren't saying anything in the high school halls either. Normally their peers would snicker about them going back to the kiddie pool to get their dick wet. Nancy as so pretty and her ice queen reputation so solid there may have been a few lifted eyebrows but damn few and they didn't stay lifted after word got around the kid sister was a package deal. No chaperon, no date. Guys who couldn't handle being razzed about dating Nancy sure as hell weren't going to mouth off to anyone that they were actually sticking it in her kid sister. Honestly, they didn't want to fuck a twelve year old. I would have been pretty safe if it wasn't for Nancy. "Once she realized there wasn't any down side she became an outrageous flirt. She pretended to be as proud of the Princess Blue Balls label as she was of the Ice Queen nickname but anything that scared guys away limited her choices of who to date. She still kept it low key most of the time, especially in public. Nobody ever caught them tongue kissing at the burger shack. When the usher at the drive in theater flashed his light through her date's car window, they were always fully dressed and never more than holding hands. At first there would be smiles and glances. She could get more interest that way than most girls could grabbing a guys dick and saying lets do it. Then she would talk. A little risque at first, some double entendre, always progressing but never quite fast enough to keep him happy. She knew better than to give up too much too fast even when she wasn't the one who actually had to deliver. It normally took four to six weeks to get to the, 'put out or I'm history', stage. I'd have been happy if she had a new boyfriend every month. One or two did leave that soon. They didn't go away mad. Once things progressed beyond a certain indefinite point it was absolutely certain they would get their rocks off before moving on. They were disappointed that it wasn't *her* body being offered, but not so much that they were willing to pass up what was in front of them. "Her most common tactic was still the study date. I'll give her credit. It wasn't just a ruse. She actually signed up for required high school courses so that when she finally got there she could take advance placement electives. Her GPA wasn't that high, but the idea wasn't to get into some high end school. She was getting most of her first year college courses nailed down before she had to start paying tuition. More than one boy who had been bumped in the boyfriend line up continued visiting to, 'tutor'. Adults who checked on the adolescent male traffic at our house were suspicious only because things seemed to good to be true. "Hon, I want to thank you for keeping quiet and letting me tell this my own way. I've done what my grandfather would have called three trips around the barn before going inside. I've made every excuse possible for Nancy and for myself. I've tried to soften this as much as possible while bringing you up to speed gradually. I've searched for the least shocking language that would still convey rather than conceal the facts. I won't be intentionally vulgar but we're running out of time and there are things I *must* tell you before your father gets home. There is no polite way to say some things. If you have trouble coping with my language try to keep in mind how I must have felt dealing with the events themselves. "I had just turned thirteen when Nancy started taking advanced courses. From that time forward she made me availa... I had to... Oh, heaven help me... I became her *WHORE*! "I still went to school, did my homework, helped with the housekeeping. In public I was still that nice younger Taylor girl who helped her sister stay out of trouble by tagging along on her dates. In private we could still settle down to watch a movie and get giggly tossing popcorn at each others mouth. She was still my big sister who cared about me. "But at least once a week there would be a boy at our house. Sometimes she knew how frustrated he would be when he arrived and she'd have me waiting naked in the hall, barely out of sight from the street when the door was opened. Later, if his lust was less urgent or he'd already, 'taken the edge off', she'd start her favorite game. "Nancy liked to tease. It made her the center of attention. It also put her firmly in control, especially once the boy started thinking with the little head. But even teenage boys have some sort of conscience, most of them anyway. Thinking with his dick doesn't actually remove what's between his ears. While they were willing to let her play once it was understood that passing a certain point obligated her to provide eventual release, most of them were shocked the first time they discovered that *I* was the release being provided. "You've seen some of my old photos. I was obviously female and certainly not unattractive, sort of tomboy cute actually. But I was just as obviously a kid. Five foot nothing and even that extra padding I was obsessing about didn't push me over ninety pounds, but it was more than that. There are adult women with those dimensions that are *never* mistaken for a twelve year old. Nobody thought I was older than that even if I had actually been a teenager for several weeks the first time she allowed a boy to rape me. Nancy always had some sort of back story she kept tinkering with but rarely had to use it. While they may not have been comfortable with my age not one of them ever zipped his fly and left when things got to that point. "The other thing was consent. I didn't want to make eye contact, but I was also afraid of what she might do if she caught me noticeably avoiding it. So sometimes it happened. When it did we'd both usually look elsewhere, like, 'this really isn't my idea but since we're already doing it, oh well'. Most of them could sense I really didn't want it, even after Nancy coached me on how to act. They *knew* that twelve year old kids didn't suddenly decide to engage in, 'no strings', sex with older guys. The closest any of them got to objecting was one guy who left right after he finished the first time and stayed gone for a while. Eventually even he came back for more. "One guy wasn't uncomfortable at all. Not one of her friends. Dad hired him to do some yard work that was too heavy for us. While he added us to his route, he only got paid for the first time. At least, that's the only time he got cash. He was in his late twenties and in great shape from doing all that manual labor. While he was too, 'low rent', for Nancy to want him hanging around, she'd often lay me out as bait just to watch some older guys reaction. Our back deck had a rail with a privacy screen, like a low fence. Once she made sure his path while loading stuff up was close enough to see over the rail, she had me out there sunbathing in a bikini I'd probably be arrested for wearing at the beach. He did such a good job, looking for excuses to make one more pass, that she gave me to him as a 'tip'. "I'd begun to think of myself as her, 'stunt cunt', the woman who stepped in to handle the, um, hard problem, after she had pushed her girl games as far as she dared. I guess it was a pathetic attempt to clutch at some last shred of my dignity. If I knew then what I know now I think I would have killed myself. Sexually, I wasn't even a person to her. I was an object, and not a very valuable one. I was her catch rag, something to wrap around the dick of a masturbating boy at the last second so he wouldn't cum stain the couch or carpet. Albert changed that. "When Nancy invited Bert up on the deck to, 'take care of one last thing', I had my first experience with a grown man. He wasn't that much bigger than the high school boys, but they were already large enough to be physically intimidating. Bert was sweaty and smelly and like this giant irresistible force. Even when he was on me, thrusting hard enough to slide me up the sunbathing mat, I felt like there was this huge reservoir that would break loose if he wasn't keeping it tightly restrained. He told me not to pretend, that he liked taking young girls and making them do things they really weren't ready for. He'd rather have have me glaring up at him like a wild little kitty saving up spit than making some lame attempt to act seductive. "I'm still not sure what all caused it. Maybe it was being able to relax a little because I didn't have to hide how I felt. Maybe it was having somebody who was doing *me* instead of still having Nancy on the brain while he did it. Maybe it was being forced to, 'fuck like a woman', instead of be some kids catch rag. Maybe it was all of that and a dozen other things I wasn't aware of at the time. Whatever, I had my first orgasm that wasn't self induced that afternoon. And Nancy started a new career. "I don't think she ever took actual cash for it, not that I would have received any. She began swapping sex with me for things she wanted. It was all very discrete and low key. She didn't care about my feelings or reputation but I was one of those Taylor girls and if I was publicly dragged through the gutter her rep would get trashed as well. Also, while she still considered me nothing more than a fuck toy, thinking about commercial possibilities made her do some research into my street value. If Bert hadn't made the list early there's no way he would have been able to afford me. "When she turned sixteen Nancy told me I owed her a present, but she wasn't quite ready to collect. She got her learners permit and driving lessons from her boyfriends father since ours was rarely home. Dad's car was ok for taking the road test or hauling groceries but she didn't want to drive around in a geezermobile and dad wasn't interested in buying her the kind of car she wanted. She got a part time job at a small used car lot, three nights a week and four hours on Saturday, her work permit was only good for ten total. There's no way she was going to leave me home alone, so on the nights she worked I did my homework or caught up on my reading whenever the yard shack they used as a sales office was vacant. I wasn't too comfortable with the way she dangled me in front of the lots grease ball owner to get the job, but didn't think he'd ever offer her enough to get his jollies. "Then a little red convertible hit the lot and Nancy's plan unfolded. My, 'sweet sixteen', *gift* was one of those risque cards with a note inside that she'd composed and required me to copy. Along with a couple of Polaroids of me in thigh highs, a dog collar, and a smile. I was, 'willing to please any man she chose to reward, as a gift in return all she'd taught me about life and love.' Grease ball got my anal virginity as a down payment on the car and twenty-four installments of, 'any way you want it'. I suppose I could have strung it out, but he wouldn't let her drive it until he was paid in full. It was a lay away in more than one sense. Besides, she refused to return or destroy the card and photos until she had clear title. I was scared to death they would somehow get copied or circulated. She owned her ride in a couple of months instead of a couple years of watching a car payment eat her entry level wages. "It's a good thing too. I had to take some time off about then. She put me on the pill right at the start. You had to be at least sixteen to get them from the free clinic but they didn't check if they thought a fourteen year old was lying about her age. Nancy said they were for her. While that may have been misleading it wasn't technically a lie. I was her toy and she always took care of her toys, even the ones somebody else paid for. When dad bought her a newer car as a graduation present, she gave me her old one and it was *still* a good car. She'd kept it clean and well maintained. Of course part of that was making me wash it. And you better believe that when she had me take it in for a tune up more than the car got serviced. "No birth control is perfect. From the timing I knew that grease ball wasn't the father. Please don't get the idea that my teen years were some sort of non-stop gang rape. I've been trying to cover the worst of the low points and the impact it had on me because I don't have much time before your dad gets home. The list of possible fathers was short enough, and I knew them well enough, to be certain none of them were in any position to marry me even if the state said fourteen was old enough with parental consent. The only good news was that the timing of the bad news was just about perfect. I was just over six months gone when school broke for the summer. Nancy had found an older couple unable to have kids that wanted mine. They had enough money for an attorney to do a private adoption and a summer home where I could wait to deliver. When the time came, 'Jane Doe', hit a delivery room in the next town over. At the time I didn't even know if I'd had a girl or a boy and thought it was better if I never found out. I was right about that. "While being sexually used and abused didn't occupy a major part of my waking hours, the psychological impact was enormous. I became her slave while I was still a child and was still childlike when Bert 'made me a woman', even though my student ID said I was a teenager. My whole life had been turned inside out and upside down. I actually felt like being her whore *was* my real life and all the so called normal things were just an elaborate role play to keep decent people from finding out what I was. "Nancy graduated and started college. I was put to work at a private club after school. My work permit said I was a waitress at a restaurant but I served a lot more drinks than food, and my entire working costume could be stuffed in a shot glass. I know that for a fact because one night all the men there pitched in a twenty each to get me to prove it. The attention had me blushing so bad I got to keep my reputation as the *shy* girl, and the extra $120 in my purse when I left covered my lunch money for a long while. "I heard about them, 'raffling', waitresses but the management kept me out of that until I had something better than a school ID saying I was sixteen. The raffle tickets were twenty dollar bills with a members name written on them tossed in the tip jar. The waitress who was that nights prize would pick one and return it to its owner. Technically it wasn't gambling because there was no cash pay out. It wasn't prostitution because the winner got his money back, and she didn't actually *have* to do anything with him. One girl did take the money and run. She quit in humiliation the next time she tried to raffle and the tip jar got a single dollar bill with 'anybody' written on it. The winning waitress reported the rest of the money as 'tip income'. Some of them were reporting tips of two or three times the base pay, which was restaurant minimum, well below the minimum for clerking or factory work. "I'm not sure if Nancy deliberately played it straight in college or just couldn't find a way to swap sex with me for better grades. She wasn't part of the party crowd and teachers were under constant close observation. The administration hardly had to bother. There were plenty of jealous cows ready to report any cutie swapping sex for course credit. It came as a bolt from the blue when she celebrated spring break by running down to Mexico and getting married to the youngest full professor on the faculty, one she didn't have for any classes. She was single again three months later. He could handle her taste for teasing and humiliation, even being blackmailed into bisexuality. He couldn't cope with being informed that it was now the only penetration where he would be allowed to participate. I could sympathize even though bi-sex isn't so bad for a girl, and she rarely made me clean her out after being with a man. "She was out of school and building a client list as a PR consultant when a certain couple were busted on child porn charges. The hospital records said, 'Jane Doe', but it was my real name on the adoption papers. Social services offered me grief counseling and expedited the custody paperwork for the biological daughter I'd given up six years before. While she lived with us, she almost immediately bonded with Nancy and I had no problem signing off on the minimum paperwork an intra-family adoption required. Erin had little respect for me from the beginning, less after I gave her up a second time, and none at all when she discovered Nancy was giving me to some clients as a, 'perk', for being awarded prime projects. She still had to do the work and do it well. Nobody can justify spending that kind of money to get his dick wet, but it certainly improved her percentage of repeat business. "I never told you that Erin was a closer relative than you thought because it isn't true in any practical sense. Nancy raised her and for the first couple of years it was a constant battle of wills. I had all I could take after the first six months. I met your father, got married, had you, and started a life of my own. The battle didn't decisively settle in Nancy's favor until she was discretely contacted by one of Erin's, uh, early friends. I was shocked. Not because my sister would do that to a child, I of all people should have known what she was capable of. Although it did surprise me that she would do it to a child of eight. I still believe if she had been completely innocent Nancy would have waited for puberty. What shocked me was Erin's completely changed demeanor. "The junior hell cat was gone, replaced by a child as docile as I had been, once I realized who was calling the shots. Nancy informed me that she was still the tough little kitty saving up spit while some creep was on her. She also still had moments when she forgot who was in charge. For the most part Nancy no longer wanted to strangle her more than once a week. The truce held until she hit puberty. From that point on, the only way to control our rebellious daughter/niece was to give her an outlet for her own desire to dominate somebody. Nancy wasn't about to turn her loose on the local boys her age. Letting a child that young start dominating adult perverts didn't seem like a good idea either. By the time she brought the problem to me I had already unwittingly become part of the solution. "Some months earlier she had started, uh, consulting, Erin regarding which clients should be offered my services. I was cordially invited to Erin's twelfth birthday party. I was informed that declining the invitation was *not* an option. I blushed nearly maroon when Erin herself instructed me as to exactly how I should prepare and what gift I would bring. "The guest list was short. Nancy, Erin of course, a few of her friends and classmates, and a couple of men Nancy introduced as, 'business associates'. I'd been given an arrival time later than the other adults, but earlier than Erin's peers. She unwrapped my, uh, gift, or rather had me unwrap it for her. I'd been told to dress business casual. I'd chosen a blouse and knee length skirt, nothing really special but nice, dressy, job hunting clothes. When I got there Nancy looked me over and suggested I ditch the flats and borrow a set of four inch heels out of her closet. Erin, who was wearing her usual jeans and grubby teeshirt, had me get up in front of the other adults and undress down to my black stockings and garter belt. While I turned and posed for them Nancy explained that Erin was tired of taking orders, especially the sort of orders no child should receive. I had graciously arranged to spend the night and, after the children left, I would be available to them in any way Erin found amusing. There was just enough time for me to get dressed again before her younger guests started to arrive. We four adults were gathered around a patio table having a few drinks as we watched the party flow in and out through a set of sliding doors that opened into the living room. At least the others had a few drinks. From the first sip I knew mine was straight soda. Nancy noticed my reaction and I shivered a little at her tiny smile. The only time she cared about me having a drink was when she, 'didn't want me to take the edge off.' "Soon they took a break from the usual party games to gather around the phone. Erin had set it on speaker and dialed a number, one I knew very well. The answering machine picked up after several rings. 'Hello, I'm unable to answer the phone right now. I'm such an insatiable slut that I'm wandering around the house looking for objects I can stuff into my vagina. Please leave a message. Better yet leave suggestions.' The kids were practically wetting themselves with laughter. The two men watched me trying desperately not to squirm in my chair as the kids dialed and redialed my phone number. Nancy moved around taking care of party issues while continuing to engage me in conversation, until one of Erin's friends got a puzzled expression and started glancing around looking for the voice that resembled the one on speaker. I shut up but couldn't help noticing how much Erin's smile resembled her mothers. After her friends left, the party continued with me stripping and performing every sort of sex act Erin could imagine. "About half the times I stop there the evil little bitch or her mother have something for me to do. I haven't missed a birthday party since she was twelve. Sweet sixteen was when she installed the barbells in my nipples and clitoral hood. Her eighteenth was the year Nancy gave her Bruno and she immediately, 're-gifted', him. At least she re-gifted a fat eight inches of him, though I swear it felt larger at the time. You'll have to tell me what you think, afterwards. If you've guessed where my scars came from she has already expressed an interest. You might be able to avoid it by opening a vein if you do it quickly enough. Otherwise it's only a matter of time. "Which brings me to another issue. Your father has been reluctant to sit down with you and have, 'the talk'. This is probably because his own father waited until it was *much* too late and extremely awkward for both of them. I'm not going to suggest he do so now, not unless he wants to replay the situation in the role of parent. He's not equipped to give the instruction or guidance you need at this point. I'm not either, but I have an opinion regarding who is. "While Erin was busy trying to shock and embarrass you, I talked the matter over with Nancy. She has conditionally agreed to help me out. The three conditions she insisted on are, consent, discretion, and participation. You have to arrive with the understanding that you can leave at any time. You have to agree that any information you share with each other is for *very* limited distribution. While you can leave at any time, if you choose to stay you must at least *try* to comply with any of her requests. She also made one further observation. She's getting involved kind of late in the game and you are in need of some, uh, remedial guidance. I've agreed to allow you to spend several consecutive days at her place if you choose to do so. ***** Well it may have been technically consensual, but I felt it was what the gangster movies called, "an offer too good to refuse." But that's a different story. The End... For now.