Harley had always been a wilful girl, even at 11. A tomboy and a bully on the odd occasion, she preferred to hang out with teenagers. She learned a lot about sex from the older girls. It sounded like fun to have that kind of power over boys, though she never did any of it.
As she hung out more with teenagers, she began to disdain kids her own age, treating them mean. Mean enough that the teachers began to take notice. Mean enough that they stopped making excuses. Mean enough that eventually police and lawyers got involved.
It was only once she was in the back of a squad car that Harley began to realise how bad her situation had become. It had crossed the line from fun to dangerous. Instead of enjoyment, she felt afraid. In her desperation and inexperience, she tried something that she had heard the older girls talk about that they did when they got in trouble with adults. While she enjoyed the brief moment of power she had as she jerked off the cock of her social worker, she was inexperienced and he was sloppy, and they both were caught.
She didn't understand a lot of what the adults said over the next several weeks. Sexual abuse, danger to society, unstable, these terms meant little to her. What she did understand is that her living conditions, i.e. that she was essentially living on her own under the 'care' of a senior relative, was no longer going to cut it. Instead, she was being sent to a 'specialist facility,' whatever that meant.
After a few weeks there, she had to admit it wasn't so bad. The meals were cooked, the lessons were interesting, and there were only a few people her age, most of which were way more interesting than the kids at her school, and they knew about sex too.
The only thing that was kinda boring about it was the therapy sessions that were mandatory.
It was boring; all they did was talk! And the therapist's voice was so dull. Monotonous and even paced, it was so boring. Harley even swore she fell asleep a few sessions in, though probably only for a moment. The older woman didn't seem to mind though, she always had a big grin on her face every time Harley felt herself jerking awake from her naps.
After a few weeks of the therapy sessions, Harley herself began to notice that she was feeling happier, less antagonistic. She was even beginning to make friends. Maybe that therapy was doing some good after all.
As she came into the therapist's office for her Friday session, Miss Mesmer, instead of sitting her down on the couch, led Harley into a smaller room. It looked a little like a toilet cubicle, but with a comfy chair, soft padded carpet and some odd holes in the walls. Miss Mesmer instructed Harley to sit in the chair and to do what came naturally to her as she closed the door.
So Harley sat bored for a minute or two until she heard someone walking over. However instead of opening the door, they walked past it. There was the sound of a zipper and clothes rustling on the other side of one of the holes in the wall. Harley looked over with interest as something was pushed through.
Harley let out a little chuckle as she looked at the tootsie pop someone pushed through the hole. Well, if they were going to just give her sweets, this therapy session wouldn't be so bad! Eagerly jumping off the chair, she tried to grab the morsel to bring it to her lips. Except it wasn't cooperating. It also felt a little strange, warm and firm as she wrapped her hands around it. Maybe it was a new flavour she was getting to try?
She gave it a few more experimental tugs, but whoever was holding it wasn't letting go, and the smooth surface was difficult to get a proper grip on, it kept siding along her palm. She also thought she could hear a man groaning as she tugged, but she paid it no mind. Well, if it wasn't coming to her mouth, then her mouth would have to go to it. She wondered if a lot of people knelt in this therapy room, given how nice the carpet felt on her knees. Well, now that she was down at eye level with her treat, she could appreciate that it was bigger than any she'd ever had before. Oh well, there was the tried and true method of getting the creamy treat at the centre, one she was keen to employ. The only question was how many licks would it take?
Sticking out her tongue, she gave the end a little lick. It was warm, and a little spongy, not sweet but there was a nice taste nonetheless, unlike any she'd ever licked before. Harley also thought it may have had a little leak, as there was a little bead of liquid on the end. She didn't think much of it initially, a little like salty milk, but after a few minutes it grew on her.
Well, if she was checking for defects as well, better make sure there were no other leaks. She gave every inch she could reach a good lick, until it was slick and shiny with her saliva. She couldn't reach the other end through the wall, whoever was on the other side just wouldn't give it to her. Whatever, Harley had the good end anyway. She continued to lick her treat, funding herself giving more attention to the rounded end as she began to crave the slightly salty secretion. She gave no thought as to how it kept coming at a fairly steady rate, when a normal tootsie pop would have been emptied of its delicious core by now.
Then, as if reacting to an unconscious suggestion, she decided that licking the end wasn't getting her enough. Opening her lips into a wide ring, she put the whole end of the treat into her mouth, careful to avoid biting it, and gently sucking. She was rewarded with a little more of the liquid she was craving, a little jump of the treat in her mouth, and a loud groan. Maybe the other person fumbled it a little? Harley still paid it no mind as she kept sucking on the end of her treat, keen to see how much she could get.
The taste was really becoming addictive as she swirled her tongue around the leading end in her mouth, spreading the taste as much as possible. After a few tasty minutes of sucking, there was a noticeable increase in groaning and movement of her treat. She felt a pulse from the bar travel quickly along her palm, the briefest warning before her mouth was filled with a salty, creamy liquid.
Caught by surprise, Harley pulled the treat from her mouth as she tried to swallow. Meanwhile, the treat kept pulsing, shooting more creamy liquid onto her face. After catching her breath from the unexpected filling explosion in her mouth, she was surprised to realise that even though it was dirtier than the first liquid, it felt so much better on her tongue and sliding down into her belly. Using her free hand she collected as much as she could from her face, sucking and licking her fingers to get more to try and quench the fire now growing in her belly.
The treat began to pull away and she let it, disappointed it was over and wanting more. Harley heard the person on the other side of the wall walking away and sighed in disappointment. She perked up when she heard someone else walk up though, and like the first person came to the side with the holes in the wall and pushed through another tootsie roll, one that looked even bigger than the first!
Harley scooted forward eagerly, keen beyond words to test out another sample!
"I trust this served as an ample demonstration?" Miss Mesmer said with a satisfied smirk to the first man. He said nothing as he walked over and knelt at the foot of a girl who looked barely older than Harley. The girl was watching a tablet that displayed the hidden camera view of Harley enjoying her second 'tootsie pop' and moaning in pleasure.
The girl minimised the display, looking at the rest of the Harley file with a shrewdness and cunning which, if Miss Mesmer was being truthful, she found intimidating.
"It's a good start, but nothing more," the girl eventually replied with a cold voice to match her eyes. "You managed to plant a post-hypnotic suggestion that whenever Harley sees a cock that needs sucking in a glory hole, she sees a tootsie pop. Based on the file, she was three, four years at most from being the school bicycle. I'll need more than a little push to convince me."
The girl stood up, placing the tablet on the low table and walking purposefully towards Miss Mesmer. Reaching into an inside pocket of the best she wore, she withdrew an envelope.
"That being said, you managed to get this girl further along than she would have been, and without the authorities here catching on. It is indeed a good start, and I'll be interested to see what you can really do. Considered yourself hired, Syrena."
In a spectacular case of coincidental timing, there was a loud groan as the other man who was receiving Harley's alerted attentions reached orgasm. He came back in to join his companion kneeling on the floor.
"We will arrange the transfer of yourself and Harley to one of our facilities," the girl said evenly. "Oh, and welcome to the Club," she added with a small grin, the first she had displayed since arriving for this demonstration.
With that, she handed over the envelope and left the room with her men filtering her silently. Miss Mesmer was a little put out at the fact the girl knew her name, her real name, even though she had gone to great lengths to hide it. But the envelope in her hand was with more than her mild discomfort. She opened it carefully and took out its contents with due reverence.
In her palm was a metallic card no larger than a credit card, but to the right people was worth more than mere money could ever be. It was hot pink in colour, with a stylised kitten in one corner. As she held it, her thumb inadvertently pressed on it, registering it indelibly to her via the microelectronics laced through the card. Her name appeared on the front side, and on the back the slogan.
The Kitten Club: For Lovers of Young Pussy.