Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Oscar would often sit at the bedroom window with binoculars scanning the
playground across the street for young girls.

   It was his vice.

   It was his passion.

   It was his sin.

   This playground contained a wide array of spring mounted rocking cartoon
characters, short slides, board seated swings, monkey bars, teeter totters,
and merry-go-rounds.  There was not much of interest for the older kids, so
most of the clientele was of preteen classification, and, to his great
delight, generally of the female variety.

   Once he spied a precious little specimen he would switch to the high
powered telescope he had mounted close at hand.  Then he would amuse
himself with self-gratification as he watched them frolic, executing feats
of quasi-Olympian difficulty frequently exposing a rosy butt bud beneath
the material of shorts leg or bathing suit, or a mouth-watering glimpse of
panties, if skirted; all the while conjuring up images of the perverse acts
he would perform on them for real through the lens of his Bausch and Lomb
Deluxe.

   Between the expertly ground optics a special world existed where he
could execute a variety of sexual acts on them, picturing their expressions
of terror and hearing their screams.

   In his basement he had a secret chamber, awaiting such an event should
it transpire for real.

   On this particular day the pickings had been meager and he was about to
pack it in for his magazines and dvds; a poor substitute for actual live
flesh, but more graphic than anything he would view from his window.  Just
before abandoning his position a wayward little nymph strayed into his
sights.

   She was alone.  He did not recognize her.  Probably new to the
neighborhood, he guessed.  Skinny, small, with long dark hair hanging
straight and limp down her back he brought her into focus for better
assessment.

   He estimated her age to be seven.  She wore a dark blue dress that had
seen better days with frayed hem and a button missing about the belly.  On
her feet she wore pink flip flops.  There were remnants of blue nail polish
on her toes.  Bangs, needing trimming, which he ventured to guess would not
come anytime soon hid her eyebrows.  She had the look of an orphan of
maintenance; a waif of attention; the type of child that would not
immediately be missed, and only indifferently sought.

   She entered the playground tentatively, as if she was not sure she
should be there.  It was evening.  Most children were home at the supper
table or doing homework.  This wee sprite, however, seemed listless,
looking for something to occupy her time.

   "I could give you amusement, twat," Oscar mumbled under his breath.

   She sat on a swing just dangling her feet, looking at the ground, deep
in thought, drawing imaginary pictures with her toe.  Eventually she pushed
off and began to glide back and forth.  As she built up momentum her dress
blew up on her lap on the forward journeys and down again on the return
trek.

   It was a tantalizing sight for Oscar.  He took his limp cock in hand and
stroked it to life.  For a short girl she had long legs, accentuated by her
lean figure.

   The angle of the swing set to his window prevented him from telling what
her panties looked like.

   Slowing, she dismounted with a graceful little jump.  He watched her for
nearly an hour, mesmerized by her innocent sexuality, dying for an
opportunity to exploit it.

   Evening slowly gave way to the shadows of night.  It became more
difficult to see her, but when she climbed upon the monkey bars and swung
from her knees it left no doubt she was not wearing any underwear.

   Oscar's heart skipped a beat, then began racing like a boat motor out of
water.

   "I've got to get a closer look at this," he thought, and did something
he had never done before.

   Jumping to his feet he threw on sweat pants and a shirt and hustled down
the stairs, out the front door, and across the street.  By the time he got
there she had moved to the merry-go-round.

   He hid in the bushes off to one side of the park entrance and watched,
dying to get another peak at her tiny butt.

   She made a move to alight, but lost her balance landing in the gravel on
her hands and knees.  Giving a little shriek she began to cry.  Moving to a
sitting position she surveyed the damage.

   Oscar could see the bright red scrapes from his vantage point, even in
the waning light.  Acting on impulse he rose from his concealment and
pretended to be on an evening stroll in the park.  Coming upon her in this
way he feigned surprise at finding her thus.

   "Oh, my!  What happened pretty lady?" he asked in his most friendly and
concerned voice.

   "I fell and hurt my knees," she sobbed.

   She sat on her butt with her knees bent and her feet flat on the ground.
Had it been two hours earlier he would have had a marvelous view up her
skirt, but with the encroaching night all was in shadow.

   "Come on," he said, extending his hand, "I live just across the street.
We'll get you cleaned up, bandaged and good as new." The tone of his voice
rang of assurance, reliability, and kindness.  Without a second thought she
took his hand, got to her feet, and went with him to his house.

   On the way he explained he was a photographer by trade and had a studio
in his basement where he kept most of his supplies.

   They entered the house, went downstairs, and into a room with cameras, a
small bed, a padded table, and various other items of which she had no idea
of their use.

   She never noticed him lock the door.

   He lifted her onto the table top, explaining this was where he placed
items to be photographed, where he could arrange them in the best angle and
light.

   He brought a floor lamp near and went to a cupboard for bandages and
disinfectant.  Next he lifted one of her feet to the table top telling her
he needed to get a better look.

   He got a better look indeed.  She was so unconscious of her exposure in
the glare of the flood light it didn't occur to her that her tender young
pussy was being laid bare to his inspection.

   Not a hair graced that sweet mound.  The flesh of her pubis deepened
into a rosy pink as it disappeared into her twat, taunting him.  He could
feel a stirring in his pants and fought to keep it down, not wanting to
alarm her...  yet.

   The wounds were dressed tenderly and with much care.  When finished he
asked, "How's that?"

   "Good," She replied, sliding off the table.  "Thank you" .  His next
statement caused her to look up at him in bewilderment.  "Now, take off
your dress." It was a simple command with only a slight amount of
intensity.

   Her eyes divulged an uncertain questioning as if she hoped she had
misheard him.  "Wh...what?" she asked meekly.

   "Take your dress off.  Quickly." This was more pronounced and demanding.

   "Why?" There was a tremor of fear and confusion in her voice.  Now she
began to question her decision to go blindly with this man she didn't even
know.

   His answer was calm and matter of fact.  "Because I need you naked for
all the things I plan to do to you".

   "I gotta go," she said and rushed to the door.  A cold chill of panic
seized her as she grabbed the handle and found the door locked.  She turned
to discover him close behind her.  Terror filled her eyes.

   "I have the key," he stated.  "Now, for the last time take off your
dress."

   "No!" she hollered defiantly.

   She attempted to slip past him to put distance between them, but he
grabbed her arm and dragged her to the bed.  "Little girls who don't obey
their elders get punished", he told her.

   As she struggled, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her onto his
lap.  One arm was immobilized by his body, unable to help her efforts to
escape.  The other arm he pinned behind her and held her in place by
pressure on her back.

   She squirmed and kicked, but his size and superior strength kept her
solidly anchored to his legs.

   By now she was screaming for help.

   "Go ahead and yell," he inserted between the cries.  "There is double
insulation in these walls, and acoustic tiles all around.  No one will hear
you".

   He lifted her dress with his free hand and exposed a perfect young ass
so white as to look like alabaster.  He massaged and fondled it.

   Her refusal to undress was a ruse to accommodate what he had planned on
doing anyway.  He raised his hand, letting hover above her as if savoring
the moment.  Then, it came down with a deafening smack.  She screamed and
began to cry.

   He drew in a deep breath.  He could almost smell her fear.

   The intensity of her terror was like a fine wine; so invigorating, so
captivating, making him want more.

   Again he slapped the tender white flesh, watching it compress under the
pressure of his hand.

   It felt so good he repeated it over and over, losing track of how many
blows he delivered, urged on by the incessant screams, crying, and begging;
fifty, sixty, who knows how long he spanked her?  When he finally stopped
her butt was a deep red, radiating heat like a sunburn.

   Oscar released her arm and she leaped up and ran to the farthest corner
of the room, holding her ass, trying to subdue the pain.  She sobbed
uncontrollably, hoping the worst was over, but knowing in her heart it was
yet to come.  She had no idea what that could be, and that lack of
knowledge was what scared her the most.  Her eyes, overflowing with tears,
locked on him.  Her body, racked with sobs, trembled with fear.

   As she watched him, ready to evade him should he show the slightest
signs of pursuing her further, he reached into is sweat pants and pulled
out his fully rigid erection.

   The deliciousness of her terror was almost palatable to him.

   "She must have felt it poking into her ribs when I was spanking her," he
thought.

   She did not move a muscle as he sat stroking it, delighting in the
lovely pain he had inflicted on her butt.

   He closed his eyes, reliving the event, masturbating.  "Umm, I'd better
stop," he said, pulling the waistband up over it.  "I have other plans for
this," he patted it, "with you".

   She whimpered.

   "I gave you an order earlier," he said, calmly.  "Take off your dress".

   "NO!!" she screamed vehemently.  "You can't make me!  You're a bad man!"

   "You are right about the last part, but oh so wrong about the first
two," he stated.  Getting up off the bed he went to the door, unlocked it,
and exited.  She heard the lock click behind him.

   Left alone she sank to a squat, weeping, and rubbing her behind.  The
pathos was timeless.  She could as easily have been an urchin from a
Dickens tale, or an orphan of the streets of ancient Rome, as a victim of
the twenty-first century.

   Oscar was gone about ten minutes.  When he returned he was carrying
three sticks, greenish in color, about two feet in length and a roll of
duct tape.

   He had to chase her around the room a bit before finally seizing her
around the waist.  She fought and kicked, but it was a simple matter for
him to muscle her onto the padded table, face down, where he fastened her
wrists to the legs on one end, her ankles on the other, with strips of
tape. He also wrapped a length over her waist.

   Next he pulled up her dress again, revealing the still red cheeks.

   "Bad girls, who don't obey get punished."

   He picked up the three sticks, alternately flexing them and slashing the
air.  They made a low whistle as they sliced through the atmosphere.  He
picked one he seemed to like better than the others.

   "Maybe the next time I tell you do something, you will do it," he said,
just before lashing her ass with the newly cut switch.

   She screamed with even more intensity than before, the pain searing her
flesh like a hot iron.  Immediately a huge red welt materialized.

   Her eyes grew wide, never having felt such agony before.  She begged him
to stop, promising to do whatever he wanted, but this occupation was
intoxicating.  He lashed her again.  The sounds of her shrieks were music
to his ears.  He stopped at the twentieth lash, admiring the crisscross
pattern of deep red welts and the black and blue discoloration of the lobes
in general.

   During her struggles to break free her hair had fallen over her face. 
He gently moved it back in place behind her ears.  She lay on the table
almost comatose; her eyes unfocused, no more tears left to cry, but her
body still hitched occasionally with pent up emotion.

   Neither spoke.

   He removed the duct tape and backed away, waiting to see how she would
react.

   After a few moments she slid gingerly off the table, on unsteady legs.
With head hung low she unfastened the few buttons on her dress and let it
slip to the floor.  Now, he knew she was his to do with as he pleased.  He
had broken her spirit.  She had surrendered.

   For the first time he beheld her entirely naked; such a tiny little
thing, skinny legs, knees bandaged against the trials of childhood,
completely hairless pussy about to endure those of an adult.  She had a
flat tummy, and flatter chest, standing no more than elbow height to him.
She was gorgeous; the flush of spent tears accentuating the beauty of her
face.  All kinds of perverse urges swept over him in an instant, but he
knew what he wanted.

   He led her to the bed where he positioned her at the end, on her stomach
with a couple of pillows beneath her hips, feet on the floor.  Another
pillow lay under her head.  She gripped both ends by her bony young hands.
He spread her legs and got between them.  He laid his penis between the
discolored butt cheeks like a hot dog in a bun and slid it back and forth.
She whimpered, knowing that whatever he had planned was not going to be
pleasant.

   Taking a bottle of lubricant he greased his penis liberally.  Then he
greased the area around her anus, pink and puckered, and never used as it
was about to be.  He pushed his way inside with his fingertip.  She
stiffened, but did not protest.

   He placed the tip of his cock against her asshole and pushed, slowly,
but with firm pressure.  She buried her face in the pillow.  Her fingers
squeezed it and tore at the ticking.  With constant force her sphincter
began to part allowing a small portion of his member entrance.

   Muffled in the pillow he could hear her repeatedly crying, "Ow!  Ow! 
Ow!"

   After a minute or two he managed to bury the head inside her.  She
flailed her arms, beating the bed with her fists, but did not fight him. 
When he was half way in he straddled her with his legs, closing hers.  He
didn't go any deeper, but used the depth he had gained to great advantage,
pumping, slowly at first, and then gaining speed.  Her ass was magical.  It
felt like a velvet glove, soft and smooth, tight and snug.  He took his
time, enjoying the feeling.  She looked even smaller beneath his bulk.

   Now he pushed in deeper until his balls rested on her bruised buttocks.
He could tell she was in great discomfort from her wails and thrashing. 
This added to the illusion, making his orgasm the most powerful he could
remember.  Shooting his cum deep inside her butt, continuing to pump for
minutes after, he finally relinquished his attack.

   When he pulled out she groaned.  Her ass, still alive in red and purple,
swollen and striped, was sloppy with cum.  Viscous sperm filled the crack
and ran down into her gash.

   After a lengthy session on the monkey bars the little girl dismounted
for good, smoothed her dress, and skipped out of the playground, down the
street.

   When Oscar moved the telescope to one side he found he had ejaculated
almost to his chin.  Puddles of cum rolled down his stomach, pooling in his
pubic hair and beginning to seep between his balls and his legs.  Grabbing
a handful of Kleenex he smiled and thought, "Yeah, you've been butt fucked
good, little lady."