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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Even If It Takes Forever
by Peter Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)
***
Inspired by the earlier "confessions" shall we say, of
'Playfulgirl2001' Patti is a most beautiful girl still
and has a heart the size of Texas. This is HER story.
(Mg, ped, v, bd)
***
The tragedy is, I knew what they were doing to her. It
broke my heart!
Living in a close-knit neighborhood of Portland, it is
impossible to keep secrets. The hills most definitely
have eyes! When a twelve-year old girl starts skipping
classes and makes seemingly one call too many at the
homestead of a renowned womaniser, it is going to
arouse suspicion – my suspicion!
I can’t say as I knew Patti that well. After all, I was
just the humble mail-man and back then - still in my
late twenties I guess.
But ah, how beautiful was she? From the time she was
knee-high to a grasshopper, she would so often run out
to the mailbox and stare up at me with those alert
little eyes scanning mine, her long dark hair cascading
down to her backside almost, willing me to hand her the
day’s mail that she would then scamper inside with
excitedly.
I saw less of her once she started school, but on
occasions I would still see her strolling home in the
summer months, skipping along the sidewalk and letting
her hands run along the tops of hedgerows and picket
fences, leaving in her wake, the very essence of
seemingly incorruptible childhood innocence.
I was careful to never let her see me, but I would make
a point of being on hand around the time junior high
was out, just so I could watch her for a few moments.
She captured my heart....my very passion, if the truth
be known.
Developmentally she was ahead of the pack, no doubt
about that.. Whether or not this contributed to her
downfall though, I have no idea – nor is it really my
place to speculate. All I know is, that first day I saw
her stop-off at Dave Watkins’ place, watching from
across the intersection as he took her inside, before
closing the porch door with what I felt was undue
haste, my heart sank....I think it deflated actually!
Desperately wanting to believe there might be some
rational explanation for her house-call, my hopes were
dashed however when the visits became a regular
occurrence. I could not fail to notice that she was
beginning to wag school on occasion now and the day I
watched her winging her way towards his front gate,
that frilly little white dress blowing wildly in the
breezy conditions, long hair streaming off her
shoulders as it glinted attractively in the morning
sun, fully highlighting the fact she really was no
longer a little girl as such, I just stood there
gutted!
Worse was to transpire. I saw her going to Dave
Watkins’ house when I knew his two moronic buddies Greg
Thomas and Steve Harrison were inside with him. That
day, little Patti was inside for hours and I guessed
what sordid and indecent secrets she was learning
about.
In the coming months she had beaten a well-worn track
to Dave’s front door and for the life of me I could not
tell you with any conviction that she even once
appeared reluctant to participate in what can only have
been gratuitous sexual debasement, knowing Dave Watkins
as many of us reluctantly did. Many were the occasions
Steve, Greg and various other dickhead associates of
Dave were on hand to take up the slack, as it were.
The day came of course when I simply had to see for
myself.
From my vantage point across the intersection, I
watched as Patti flounced up to Dave’s front door, all
frills and girlish mannerisms. I knew others were
inside waiting. Figuring they would be ushering her
into the lounge-room first, I hightailed it to the
property’s western boundary where I knew I would be
able to see and overhear at least some of what might be
happening courtesy of a half-open window there that
Dave hardly ever closed, what with the dense shrubbery
growing wild and unchecked along the border of his
neighbor’s cottage. Imposing their botanical will on
the structure itself, shade trees would afford me
camouflaged and darkened protection from the likelihood
of discovery. In any event, I wasn’t concerned for my
own welfare – I could handle myself if it came to it. I
just had to know.
In hindsight, I think the worst aspect of what I saw
that morning was the young girl’s "willingness." A
willingness to be debased, to be humiliated, to be
"used" in every sense of the word.
No sooner had I taken up my place of concealment than I
could see little Patti quite without duress, undressing
right there on the carpet in front of them all. The
sight of her giggling, hips wriggling provocatively, in
just her skimpy little bra and panties was as
distressing as it was arousing.
"That’s it, little slut," Dave was saying, "Now get
those hot little tits out for us baby-doll. Good girl –
now pull your knickers down, yeah, real slow... that’s
right... now turn around, show us all your little
cunny. Real nice! OK now bend over for us
sweetheart..."
Steve I think it was, who then got down on his knees in
front of her and began fingering her pussy it looked
like. I saw Patti giggle and seemingly grind her hips
against his face. A pre-teen for God’s sake! Then as
she stood there completely naked, hands submissively
above her head, I watched as the men – there were four
others besides Dave, began molesting her – pulling her
nipples, kissing her developing breasts and lips,
smoothing their hands all over her still child-like
bottom, defiling whatever innocence still remained and
splintering my sanity in the process.
"Let’s fuck the little cunt Dave," growled one of the
other men – no-one I recognised. Although moving right
to the periphery of my line of vision, I could still
just make out Dave pinioning the girl’s arms behind her
back as two others held her legs apart, even as she was
just standing on the carpet. Holding his engorged
weapon like a lance, the man simply shoved it up her as
she stood there – I heard her gasp, not in pain or fear
sadly, but in what was obviously unbridled pleasure.
At the point I heard Patti crying out subsequently, as
the man pumped her like a piece of horse-meat, "Ohhh,
keep fucking me sir... harder, pleeease," I knew that
whatever had gone from her life, would never be coming
back. No sooner had the man shot his load up inside
that radically underaged slit, than Steve muttered
something I could not quite hear. In response though,
the three of them lifted her body waist high, her legs
spread like Nadia Comeneci on the parallel bars and she
let herself be taken - fully airborne.
The language the young girl was being subjected to
throughout her ordeal would have had most social
workers blushing with embarrassment. If anything
though. it was exciting her, catalysing an even deeper
complicity with everything that they were doing to her.
Eventually they dragged her away to some upstairs room
but not before I had seen her sucking their cocks by
rotation, posing for them in every lewd stance you can
imagine, being fucked on her hands and knees while they
abused her, spanked her – even as they masturbated the
length and breadth of that sweet little body.
I recall the exact moment something in my head shunted
itself way out of alignment! It was 12.33 p.m.
Patti must have been fourteen and in eighth-grade I
imagine, when her family moved out of the immediate
area. For more than two years the residents and guests
of that house on the corner of Fremont Street had been
fucking the young girl’s lights out. I know – because I
had watched. I made a resolution now to find her. After
all, in a city of just 1.9 million people, how hard
could that be? and, I had a plan – ya gotta always have
a plan!
"What bitter irony?" I thought to myself. There being
two schools within walking distance of Dave Watkins’
house of infamy, I doubt it would have taken him long
to find a willing home-town replacement.
As it transpired, finding out where the family had
moved to wasn’t even a challenge. They had left an on-
forwarding address with the Post Office.
Just seven miles south west of Portland, Beaverton,
although called a city, was really not much more than a
large town back then, with barely fifty-five thousand
people living there – it’s grown a fair bit in the last
thirty years. Patti’s family had moved to a house in a
newish area just off West Baseline Road.
Citing "stress" over a fully mythical family
bereavement, I pulled down a couple of weeks leave –
like I said, I had plans!
Spent the first week observing Patti’s route to and
from the Juventus College for Girls she now attended.
Where and just how far she walked to the school bus
(when she got it) what route she took coming home. It
was all I could do not to let her see me, so much did I
want to go hug her and tell her that never again would
she have to submit to the whims of predatorial trash
that passed themselves off as human beings.
Not a month later, having successfully negotiated a
transfer with the mail office, I put down a sizeable
deposit on a small two bedroom home, but a couple of
blocks from the High School – right on a corner too.
Nights, I worked on that master bedroom until the early
hours, fashioning a cocoon that my chrysalis would
never want to leave.
That first day, as I watched the familiar figure coming
down Summerfield Road my heart was in my mouth. Despite
her recent history, she looked as sweet and innocent as
ever she had. A little curvier perhaps – but that’s to
be expected with the onset of teenage bodily dynamics.
I lit out for my mailbox.
"Patti?" I said, with hopefully the right mix of warmth
and incredulity. She was right at my gate.
Patti looked at me, puzzled for a second.
"Jim," I said, "Your mailman back in Portland?"
"Oh my God," she spluttered, "Oh I can’t believe it –
what are you doing here?"
"I was going to ask you the same question," I lied,
"Actually I was handed a transfer to Beaverton just
recently, which worked out pretty good for me as I
already lived here." I gestured towards the house
behind me.
"Wow," she said, "I never expected to see you again...
Jim," she added, rather endearingly.
"Well hey Patti, where do you live these days, how come
you left Portland?" I opened the front gate for her.
"Come inside for a few minutes and I’ll get you a
drink."
I have the penultimate ‘safe’ and ‘honest’ face – she
didn’t even think
twice about it.
I poured her a glass of lemonade and pushed a plate of
fresh cookies her way as she told me about having to
move, on account of her father’s work commitments and
where it was they now resided in Beaverton. As she
talked, I just sat on that stool across from her at the
workbench, remembering...
"Well I suppose I’d best be getting home," she said,
putting the empty glass down, although I could detect
little or no urgency in her voice. Giving her a quick
hug, I told her she was more than welcome to drop by at
any time and let me know how things were going, either
at home or at school. The smile she tossed me as she
turned to close the front gate, was sufficient to keep
my peristaltic rate up in the high nineties all night!
I worked extra hard on the bedroom that evening.
Patti didn’t call in for a couple of days but that
Friday, I found reason to be out the front of my place
fixing up the garden around the time school would be
out. This time, she saw me!
"Hi Jim," she called out in that half-giggly teenage
voice that adolescent girls perfect so well. I almost
snipped off my index-finger in pleasure!
"Ohh, sorry Patti, I was miles away," I gushed, "Come
inside girl."
Just turned thirty, I certainly didn’t look it. When
Patty was around, I sure as hell didn’t feel it either.
Sometimes you just know things are happening, you don’t
need to go ticking off a thirty point check-list. That
Friday, I knew even as Patti walked inside – that she
would be walking out with a fat smile on her face.
It all started innocuously enough. I poured the
lemonade – she talked, I told the jokes – she laughed.
Not sure exactly when it was that someone suddenly
called "Lights, action..." but I know we were crossing
the kitchen at that particular moment and her arm
caught mine. I turned, saw this beautiful and desirable
set of teenage lips in passing, and next thing I knew I
was kissing them. Looking back now, I suppose it is not
beyond the bounds of possibility that her body was
suffering withdrawal symptoms, following its previous
two-year engagement.
Right then though, I had other things on my mind –
getting that school-dress up around her waist for
starters. Lifting her, and she was just so light I
recall, I propped her up on the workbench, scattering
utensils and God knows what else all over the place.
Closing my hand around her right breast, I just
squeezed that wonderfully soft mound – she still wasn’t
that big if the truth be known. But oh, how sexy was
she? As I moved my attentions to the other breast I
heard her beginning to moan her encouragement for me to
become yet more daring.
With my left hand I was beginning to push her dress up
and just as her hot little white panties became
visible, she lay herself back on the bench, scattering
yet more debris. I literally tore the buttons of her
school blouse in my feverish need to explore those
beautiful young breasts. Even as her flimsy little bra
was exposed, she ripped the underwire upwards herself,
freeing her fourteen-year old nipples that last I had
seen being sucked insensible by none other than Steve
Harrison himself. Well fuck him!
Whether I spread her legs or she did it herself, I
really don’t remember but in the condition we both
were, there was no time for social niceties here. I had
my erection out in milliseconds whilst Patti obligingly
held her panties so far to one side, they ripped across
the top elastic. As I sank into the depths, she let out
a cry of girlish pleasure that spurred me on to what,
up until that moment, was the most intense few moments
of love-making I had ever known.
Pulling her hips to the very edge of the workbench, I
held her beneath each knee and spread her thighs to
their physical limit, before penetrating her so hard
and so deep that she could but whimper softly as her
body was welded to mine in a union that produced enough
donated semen I imagine, to have impregnated two
hundred vestal virgins.
Such energy was expended by both of us in that
wonderfully unplanned moment that Patti was just lying
there afterwards smiling at me, tiny locks of her dark
hair so wet with exertion, they clung to her forehead
in little feathery bangs. Beads of sweat lined my brow
and in terms of respiratory distress – we could each
have used the services of a skilled paramedic.
It was kissing she needed more than anything right
then, so pulling her gently to an upright position I
found her lips and just held her.
So much more I wanted to do... but this wasn’t the
time. I knew it, she knew it. I was right about one
thing though – that was one hell of a satisfied smile
on her pretty little face when she left for home some
twenty minutes later. I knew she’d be back Monday. It
would give me time to finish my little project.
Sure enough, three days later, come 3.45 p.m. that
familiar little giggle announced a caller that I was
most definitely awaiting.
I had set-off down the ‘honorable gentleman’ path and
was meekly apologising for my animalistic tendencies
the following Friday when Patti dropped her schoolbag
on the floor, waltzed over to me and slipping her arms
round my neck nuzzled my face.
"Hmmmm so you don’t ever want to do that again to me
Jim... right?" she teased.
"Well, no... I mean yes... Oh God damn it, you know
what I mean Patti," I replied, fully out of my depth.
"Mom’s gonna be late home this afternoon," she drawled,
then looking up at me like an acutely well-groomed
Cheetah, purred "Just thought you might be interested."
Oh, I was!
The lounge was way more comfortable.
Having kissed her stupid, I maouevered her onto my lap
and slipped a hand down her top where those hot little
breasts lay in waiting. "I love that," she murmured
dreamily as I passed my hand inside both cups,
manipulating her nipples gently and just generally
misbehaving.
"You’ll probably like this too then," I suggested,
slipping my free hand up her school-dress and just
lightly brushing the front of her panties that even now
I noticed were a little on the damp side.
"Uh huh," she muttered parting her legs to give me even
better access. I began to rub her pussy its full
length. I could hardly control myself.
"Would you like me to undress for you?" she asked
rather thoughtfully. Immediately the image of a twelve-
year old girl stripping in front of five adult men,
came to mind. I didn’t want to be reminded of it.
"No honey," I replied somewhat curtly, then sensing her
surprise at my reaction, covered it by saying, "Can’t
have you stealing my fun, can I?" She giggled.
Unzipping her dress, I had her down to her bra and
panties in moments. Then, once topless, she just sat
there arching her back sexily while I suckled those
superbly erect nipples, my other hand well down inside
her panties keeping the home fires burning.
Wriggling uncontrollably now, she just whispered softly
"Fuck me Jim, pleeease." How I had lasted this long
even beats me.
Figuring to give her a taste of the rough-house, I
virtually pushed her on to her back on the carpet. Then
tugging her panties down with something less than
finesse, I pretty much raped her... which was the
treatment I’d say she was looking for. A leopard can’t
change its spots!
Perhaps not an ejaculatory high that would qualify for
the Guinness Book of Records (that landmark was
undoubtedly reached the previous Friday) but
nevertheless I doubt her pussy had room left for much
more than a few air-bubbles. Then it was my turn to
stare, as she sat up, turned around, and then getting
up on all fours simply turned her head towards me
questioningly as she wiggled her butt in my face.
I could have fucked her straight off, but I didn’t –
instead I gave her a hard spank and followed this up
with another on the other cheek. Hot damn, it felt
sexy. Wasn’t too hard on the visuals either.
"What was that for?" she yelped, reaching back and
rubbing her hot little tushy.
"No reason," I teased, "You just have a real sexy
little bottom Patti and I was wondering how much you
can take."
"Try me," she dared.
Ok, now readers with an emotional disposition might be
better skipping the next few paragraphs, It gets
painful!
I began to spank her in earnest. Put it this way, red
turns to crimson in a remarkably short time. That it
was turning me on would be a classic understatement,
that it was doing much the same for her was equally
obvious, given her provocative wriggling, itself
followed by some digital self-exploration up between
her legs I noticed.
Stopping for a moment, mainly to give my own hand a
rest, I was stunned when she turned her head and I
could see her tear-tracked cheeks.
"Don’t stop," she pleaded, rubbing herself now quite
freely "I can take it,"
"But Patti," I started to say, alarmed at what pain I
must be causing her.
"Keep doing it...hard," she begged, urgency creeping
into her voice.
So thoroughly did I spank her then, she was crying out
in what might have been agony but what was probably
real-time ecstasy. I was losing control and the spanks
were landing in an arc anywhere between her lower back
and upper thighs. Sinking fast in a frenzied mire of
sado-masochistic power – her pain was becoming my
pleasure. I began to palm areas of her bottom that had
not yet received their due punishment. It was her
literal scream of orgasmic bliss that finally stayed my
hand.
I have never seen a girl’s bottom so red and marked. It
must have been killing her. She slipped her torn
panties on gingerly and just knelt there. I asked her
if she would like a cushion to sit on, but she settled
for a glass of lemonade. I poured myself one too. I
noticed my hands were beginning to shake fractionally.
Guilt? I wondered or delayed excitement? I found it
hard to sustain eye contact with her.
Thinking to ease her pain, I retrieved a clean face-
washer from the bathroom and soaking it in cool water
brought it back to the lounge-room where I had her lay
face down on the sofa. Slipping her panties down once
more – an action that unavoidably renewed my erection,
I started to gently pat her worst affected areas with
the cloth.
"Mmmmm, that’s nice," she said. I was thinking the same
thing. It wasn’t long before I was patting selected
regions of her curve-infested body that were far
distant from the damage-zone. Refreshing the face-
washer, I returned this time with a couple of pieces of
ice. Easing Patti on to her back, I began to slide the
small cube along the underside of her right breast. She
gave a little cry of shock. But lay there, hands above
her head submissively allowing me free rein.
As I slowly iced her nipple she began to wriggle,
seemingly oblivious to any pain on her underside. It
was making me so damn hot, watching those teenage
mounds becoming so aroused. I applied my exquisite
torture to the other nipple, allowing then the ice to
slide down the side of her breast, across her cleavage
and up the other side. She was actually thrusting her
chest upwards in pleasure, her eyes closed. Between
icings, I began to suckle her gently, alternating the
hot with the cold.
Inevitably she began to masturbate, her moans knowing
no limit.
I was developing a taste for this. Whilst my left hand
continued to apply its super-chilled magic to the peaks
and valleys of her upper chest, with my right , I eased
those teasing fingers away from her pussy and setting
down the other ice-cube at the very top of her labia,
began to trace the outline of her lips very gradually,
allowing the ice to slip marginally inside with each
completed lap. I had her crazy in minutes.
Opening her eyes in ecstasy, her expression said it
all. No interpreter needed.
My erection primed, I just pushed one leg over the back
of the sofa which offered up an angle of entry a blind
man could have negotiated. She was an animal, no more
no less. That’s OK – I was a Neanderthal on heat, so it
worked well. Even at the point of interactive orgasms,
we couldn’t stop, and I was just thrusting in to her
wildly until we were both expended. Withdrawing, a
literal flood of semen and naughty-girl stuff flooded
out of her. Lucky I keep a stock of upholstery-cleaner
on hand.
But for the fact my DNA factory was fresh out of stock
I would probably have taken her upstairs there and then
but I wanted to undertake that mission on her next
visit, when both of us would be fresh and hot for more
experimentation. Besides, holding and kissing her
wasn’t exactly a hardship and she did afford me the
luxury of having a shower with her before she went
home.
I didn’t fuck her either although I think she probably
wanted me to. Just soaping her up, washing her hair and
allowing the hot steaming water to work its
recuperative powers on her sore but sexy little
backside was more than enough to round off the
afternoon.
Patting her dry, I dressed her, then watched as she
blow-dried that long dark hair of hers. Ever realised
how sexy a girl looks drying her hair? Especially one
that young.
I was glad she didn’t come back for a few days – gave
her bottom time to recover. How she sat down at school
the next day I don’t know... ouch! Friday afternoon she
just looked-in on the way home and told me her parents
would be upstate until Sunday afternoon and that she
would be free to drop by Saturday sometime. I set the
stop-watch!
Skin tight jeans, plunging neckline... even a damned
ribbon in her hair? Was she trying to bring on cardiac
arrest or what? Having ushered her across the thresh-
hold, I almost lost my nerve. There’s only so much a
man can take.
Figured I’d play the gracious host first, well - just
to get the ball rolling anyway. Plied her with soft-
drink, nibblies and compliments. Whatever perfume that
was she had on, was lethal - "teenage desire" I think
must have been the literal translation. Eventually
though, we came down to the business end of the
visitation.
"Would you like to come up to my bedroom Patti?" I
asked almost beseechingly. Evidently this was precisely
the modus operendi she favored and holding my hand, we
ascended the stairs.
"What is that?" she asked, gazing at the ceiling
directly over the King Size bed.
"Well Patti," I answered, "Just how adventurous do you
feel?"
She giggled, which answered my question. Pushing her
gently backwards on to the bed I removed her shoes.
"You’re gonna have to let me take these jeans off
sweetie,’ I said to her. She undid the belt-buckle
herself.
Threading the ropes through the pulley system, Patti
watched as I attached a rope to each ankle. "You’re
tying me up?" she asked with absolutely no shred of
fear I noted.
"Oh, its way better than that Patti," I grinned, "Trust
me." Foolishly, she did!
Having secured her arms behind her back also, I walked
to the far wall and pulled hard on the guide rope. Not
only were her legs spread at a magnificently obscene
angle, her hips were lifted well clear of the bed.
"I can’t move," she gasped.
"Well that’s OK, I can." I teased her, hastily removing
my own pants and taking up residence on the nearside
edge of the bed, directly between her gaping legs. Up
close and personal like that, you have no idea how sexy
she looked, the cleft of her beautiful pussy clearly
outlined through the taut material between her legs. I
allowed myself a caress of its entire length. She
managed to wriggle her hips in spite of her
constraints.
"You like that do you?" I asked, rubbing her once
again. It was definitely time for some in depth
therapy.
Pulling her panties to one side, I just pushed hard
into her. It was a furnace in there. There was no need
for any "are you comfortable with this sweetheart"
crap, Rape being the order of the day. It was in fact,
her very helplessness that made it so damned hot.
Taking no prisoners, I penetrated her with such force
she began crying out in unhinged ecstasy. Didn’t bother
me, every square centimetre of that room had been
sound-proofed – the door included.
She didn’t even mind when I began shredding her panties
in my desire to render her even more vulnerable.
Tearing the thin cotton along the elastic the width of
her abdomen, the flap of material, at the angle she was
partially suspended, hung down uselessly now between
her legs, every aspect of her youthful sex fully
exposed.. The sight of my cock embedded in her pretty
much to the hilt, was definitely a picture no artist
could paint.
Relinquishing my grip on her hips momentarily, I
reached down and fondled her breasts, which served only
to elicit a fresh wave of moaning and wriggling.
Pushing her top up, I wrenched her bra free of those
dynamically arousing little mounds and began kneading
her nipples – all the time thrusting deeper into her.
By now she was crying out in ecstasy and beyond caring
what I did – well, so long as I kept doing it!
The last few day’s observation of temperance in all
things sexual, was proving to be a master-stroke. Re-
invigorated and stocked-up, I was now primed to deliver
a seismic rift of noble proportions. To say I came in
her forcefully, would be to understate the reality of
the situation. What we had here was a vaginal
Armageddon – a shared nuclear holocaust.
"Christ Patti," was all I was able to get out before
the quake hit. I seem to recall her crying out
something at an ultra high frequency after which I was
simply locked inside her and flooding that hot little
cavern. Under-age sex? It’s to die for!
Taking advantage of Patti’s disorientated state – not
that my own was much better – I removed/ripped/tore
asunder, what clothing she had left. She looked so much
better! Just for good measure, I tugged the pulley up
one more notch. This accentuated the appeal of her
naked little bottom, it being presented now as a prime
target for whatever one might aspire to.
Spanking is always fun... so, following a couple of
strategically-placed "hands-on" applications, I asked
her how it felt?
"It hurt," she answered sulkily.
"You want me to stop?" I queried.
"I didn’t say that," she giggled. Music to my ears.
The next power-spank achieved the daily double. She
squealed in something approaching pained-nirvana and a
tablespoonful of cum squirted out of her pussy and down
her crack. Not very ladylike one would have to admit,
but one hell of a side-show. I had an idea.
Releasing the pulley, her bottom was laid to rest once
again on the bed.
"What are you doing now?" she asked, idly sucking on a
couple of fingers. I could only imagine where they’d
been.
"You’ll see," I replied. "Can you stand up?"
Whilst not exactly copybook deportment, she pulled
herself erect. Looking at her slim figure and jiggling
breasts, her body wasn’t the only thing in that
condition. Already I noticed, her bottom cheeks were
infused with a light glow.
Leading her to the bedroom door, I closed it. She
noticed immediately of course the snap-locks at head
level – or in her case... several inches higher.
"Are they what I think they are?" she giggled.
"Probably," I grinned, snapping one lock shut across
her left wrist. "Other hand please sweetie." Dutifully
she raised her arm.
Now just take a moment if you will and visualise the
scene. A young and exquisitely pretty, fully naked
fourteen-year old girl standing flush up against a
door, her arms pretty much handcuffed above her head
and filmy strings of cum running down the inside of her
leg. No way of escape, completely and utterly
vulnerable to the whims of her captor. That curvy
little bottom wriggling slightly as she shifted her
weight from one foot to the other... waiting... .ever
waiting!
There was something missing from the tableau it
occurred to me... other than possibly Jerry Springer.
It came to me. Pulling open the top drawer of the
little bedside table, I fished out a large man’s
hankerchief. It made the perfect gag. Now everything
was ready, the moment was upon me
Sliding open the nearest wardrobe door – a mirrored
beast some four foot across, I retrieved the leather
whip. Patti had seen nothing.
Indiana Jones I never claimed to be, but that first
lash brought up a welt across her right bottom cheek. I
suppose she screamed. I actually planned on taking the
gag off later to let her vent her displeasure.
Meanwhile, I balanced up the equation by leaving a
stinging welt across her left cheek. No wonder the
Marquis De Sade got off on S & M – this was undoubtedly
the first day of a new world order. I cracked the whip
and another welt appeared just below her shoulder
blades, although much of the impact was absorbed by her
beautiful long hair. Talk about power to the people!
I suppose you could say I then "lost" it, after all,
pain and pleasure really are so closely aligned – and I
did want to give her pleasure. I put up the whip. Patti
appeared to have passed-out, kept upright only by the
manacles. Her bottom and lower back were criss-crossed
with savage welts now, some of which were beginning to
bleed profusely. I figured she might want a cool
lemonade!
I knew what I had to do and I was fully resolved to
stick to my guns.
One way or the other I was going to make sure that she
completely forgets about Dave Watkins – even if it
takes forever!
© Peter_Pan 2005
"Harper Valley" http://www.lulu.com/content/106537
Other Erotic stories http://www.lulu.com/content/166938
Published Autobiography: http://www.lulu.com/noel
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 39