enovel Rape: Virgin Victims Unknown [Future Story Codes]

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Rape: Virgin Victims ....(78k)    by Unknown

INTRODUCTION

The virgin victim! How shocking it sounds, How many tears have been shed over actual incidents of lost virginity, never to be recaptured.

The following compendium will reveal to you, dear readers, the stories of young girls who lost it and what happened in their particular cases to make them lose it.

Some of them were used by vicious masters and mistresses who had much to gain from their sexual suffering.

Others chose losing their virginity over the prospect of far worse punishment.

None of these stories are pleasant. Most of them are of a violent or quasi- violent nature, for the young ladies in question did not go willingly to have their hymens slaughtered.

They went under duress. And that is the theme of our study here. Young girls who have been sexually abused by tormentors, often members of their own family, for financial gain, power, or just pure lust.

No doubt, some of you will wince as their case histories unfold. You may find these girls incredibly touching. All of them were beautiful and had a lot to offer. More so than they themselves could handle. And thus, they became the unwitting victims. But wherever you find a victim, you also find a villain. Their intricate relationships, revolving around the loss of virginity, make up the histories herein.

Don't shudder or look away. But read to learn. For in these tales, you might find someone you know. Possibly, even something of yourself.

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JODY K.

I met Jody K. on a rather rainy afternoon, and I must say, she was a sight for bleary eyes. She had a glow about her. I'll say that for her. She was as pretty a girl as I remember seeing in my office. A sweet, young girl, about eighteen.

She wasn't dressed the way most girls in the city are. She had on a full skirt, softly flowing out and down from her tiny waist. And she had on a white cotton blouse, gypsy style, that dipped a little low in front, though not too much.

Perhaps men of my age like a little mystery, but this girl would have been considered stunning to a man of any age, I'm quite sure.

She wore her hair long and in a ribbon, which I thought totally charming, and, again, uncitified.

Put all this together and you will see why I wasn't too surprised to find out she was from the country. She had a very appealing accent. But she had been through a lot of troubles.

Most of them owing to her naivete about sex.

I was raised in Yellerman's Shoot, Kentucky, Doctor. That's a mighty small town. Not that it's even a town, ya know. It's just a whistle stop. Well, if you close your ears for two seconds, you'd even miss the whistle.

Train stops there twice a week to bring supplies. My daddy owns a feed store. That's for animal feed, not humans. He carries mostly chicken feed. Sells to the farmers around there.

Most of them are chicken farmers. My daddy's about the only one that isn't and he sells the other farmers their feed. So I guess you can kinda figure that Yellerman's Shoot is a place with one aim... raising chickens.

Well, my mommy died when I was right young. I got me a brother. His name is Grover. He helps Daddy in the shop.

Not much else to tell about me, except that I grew up with country ways. That opens a whole book up, I reckon. A hornet's nest, too, cause, you see, Doc, there wasn't no way I could find out about things, ya know what I mean, and I had some real screwed up ideas in my head.

I know now that it was on account of I was ignorant, but at the time, I didn't know no different. I thought babies came from storks. I thought Jews had horns. I thought cowboys and Indians still roamed the plains of Nebraska. That was before I left home.

Now I know a whole lot different, but I sure didn't then. And folks will take advantage of you when you don't know nothing. I did find that out.

The first person to take advantage of me was my daddy's chicken feed salesman. He was a city slicker. Well, you know that kind of guy. The kind I see in the city constantly. The big, tall rich-looking guys in the white suits with the straw hats and a big grin on their face, cause they think they're smarter than everybody else?

That kind of guy. Well, this one was a corker. About six foot tall and very big and boy did he have one helluva grin on his face. He thought he was smarter than everybody in Yellerman's Shoot.

It happened one day after school. I was in my daddy's feed store, helping him sort empty gunny sacks. Those big burlap bags that the feed comes in. He sells them to townspeople.

I like them cause you can make anything out of them. I decorated our entire house in gunny sack. It sure did look pretty, too. Before it burned down. But I'm running off and forgetting my brain.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Hy Jerkowitz. He was the salesman. Big, dark, handsome guy. With a bigger mouth than a manhole. And there I was, in the back of the store, and there he was, smiling at me.

"Hello, Mr. Jerkowitz," I said, smiling and bowing a little. I was taught a lot of old-fashioned ways and I still do curtsey when I meet someone.

"Jody," he said, opening his thick, muscular arms and beckoning me to him, "come over here and give old Hy a kiss."

Old my fat ankle. This guy was a damned sight younger than my father. And I don't even think of him as being old. He's faster on his feet than a springboard off a swimming hole.

I sort of went up to him and pecked him a bit.

On the cheek.

"You call that a smackeroo?" he says, "I get better kisses from a chicken."

I smiled and zeroed in a bit closer. I felt the warmth of his body crush against mine. I also felt my boobies crush, too, against that solid wall of flesh, I mean. He was such a tree trunk. A fucking stump that dude was.

Well, I didn't have too much choice in the matter. I puckered real long and stuck my head right up there for him to kiss, like I thought he wanted me to do.

But you know something, Doc? I don't think he had kissing in mind no more than a jack rabbit. I think he wanted to play with my tootsies.

Now I know I got a pair on me. Life size, aren't they? I never even knew enough to be proud of them for the longest time. Not at that time. Not at the ripe old age of twelve, I didn't.

I wasn't wearing any underwear then. And I had on a real flimsy dress. A flour sack job. One that made my boobies bunch up real close, like two melons stuffed inside a packing crate.

They're about the size of melons, too, ain't they? That's what Digger always says. He's my brother. He's four years younger than me. Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yeah. On my tits.

I stood there and stuck my tootsies out and puckered like a bird about to gobble a worm. I must have looked real silly. I didn't know nothing about kissing then. I thought a kiss was supposed to be something you got after you was married. And then, only after the lights were out.

I have to tell you, too, Doctor, that I thought a real light kiss couldn't do too much harm, once Hy brought it up to me, but I was afraid of a long, lingering, tongue- poker. I thought I might get knocked up.

I did, too. I thought I might get a bun in the oven just from deep-kissing a fella. Maybe that's why I was sticking out my tits, see, just to keep him from getting too close in there and smacking me till I caught the sperm germ.

Sure, I didn't know nothing about sperm then. But I thought it had something to do with whales in the ocean. I heard my teacher in grade eight, the last year I went to school, call a whale somewhere in some ocean, a sperm whale.

So I knew whales had it and I wanted to stay clear away from them. I was awful glad to be living in Kentucky cause I know there aren't too many of them there.

Anyhow, I stood there, my lips all screwed up and waiting. Old Hy took his time. The snake. He just stood there and pressed my young, eager hot body next to his.

He must have been getting a chest full of heaven, ya know? Him hanging his arms around me and pulling me in real tight and me standing there like I was waiting for him just to kiss me, which he didn't do, by the way?

"Ooooh," he said, "you feel so hot, child. Why don't we go into the back and cool off?"

I thought it was a funny question since it wasn't no cooler in the back than it was in the front. But he seemed kind of insistent and Daddy was out in the yard unloading a truck of stuff that Hy had had shipped into him.

Well, the back of Daddy's store is full of chicken feed. A lot of it. Some of it in loose piles. Some of it in burlap bags. And some of it in bins. Huge bins.

Bins you can walk into and take a shovel to scoop up the stuff with. And we repaired to one of these bins to cool me down. Only I wasn't hot. It was Hy who was hot if you ask me. "Mmmmmmmm," he said rubbing me real close, "I'd sure like to plant my lips on yours."

Now, Doc, can you believe that when he said that the only thing I could think of was that it wasn't even planting time. Shit. It was a month after harvest! I shake my head in shame now to say it, but I was one dumb cluck at that time.

"Let me see press my mouth on yours," he murmured holding me in real close.

I leaned over and felt a hard, wet set of lips flush against mine. There wasn't anywhere I could go or anything I could do about that. The lips just butted against my own and felt real shimmering and hot. Like liver frying in a pan.

He stuck his tongue out of his mouth and tried to pry my lips apart with it. Now, I don't call that kissing, like I said. I call that making a baby.

And boy, did I ever freak out! I yanked myself away and stuck my tits out again in self-defense. Ain't that a pile of dog shit, really? Here I was, sticking my tits out to prevent him from getting close to my lips.

So, old Hy, who is smarter than six crickets, grabbed my tits. One with each hand. I wasn't wearing a bra, so he got a good hold on my nips. He started dialing them things around like he was trying to find a good station.

"Owwww!!!!!" I said, rising up off my hot little buns and coming down on them again, "that hurts, damn it!"

"Oh, you little country slut," he said, "you love to talk dirty, don't you?"

"I don't love to talk it," I shouted, "I don't like your mouth sticking into mine neither. I'm too young to have a kid."

He must have figured it out. He must have known that I was so stupid that I thought he could knock me up like that.

"Oh, yeah," he snapped back, "I am sorry about that. You're getting pregnant. But you needn't worry."

"I needn't?" I said, totally confused.

"Nah," he smiled, "I know a sure enough, fool proof way to get rid of that mean old sperm," he says.

"Kill it with a harpoon," I shouted, casting around for one. Real strange of me trying to find a harpoon in a seed store in the middle of Kentucky. But I was desperate.

"I got a better idea," he said, jumping in on the off chance that we didn't carry them.

"Well, you better tell me," I said, "cause I don't want no kid I can't bring up right."

"Well," Hy said, as I sat listening with my chin cupped in my hands.

He sounded like he knew what he was talking about. He sounded real wise on the subject. But here I was, a practically illiterate twelve year old girl, fresh out of school, and curious as a cat in front of a gold fish bowl.

"I just happen to be carrying a little tool on me that can burrow inside you and scoop that mean old sperm out, even though it's dark."

"Like a mole," I said, smiling hopefully.

"Kind of," Hy said back, taking off his jacket. He had an enormous chest. The kind of chest that makes you know why they call it a chest of drawers. A big, burly muscular chest.

And then, he began to take his pants off. He reached up and unzipped them real fast and I held my breath. I never had seen a man with his pants off. That might be kind of interesting.

And I wanted to see this scooping tool he had that could burrow inside me even where it was dark. I wondered if he had it in his pocket or what.

Imagine my surprise when I saw a long, thickish thing that looked like a big pork sausage hanging free between his two legs. He just slipped his shorts down and I got a real long look at it.

"Is that the scooping tool?" I said, pointing to his pecker log.

"Sure is," he said, smiling and bringing his hand up under my skirt. "And I think I know just how to scoop that old sperm from my mouth right out of yours with it, too."

He made me feel kind of warm, reaching up under my skirt like that. I pulled back a bit. "Please," I said, pushing his hands away, "we came back here to cool down and here I am, feeling hotter than a blasting furnace."

"Let me just open your dress up a little then," he said, unbuttoning one of the buttons. I tossed my raggedy head of blonde hair around trying to get him to stop, but at no time did I ever use my hands to prevent him.

So, I must have wanted it, don't you think, Doc? Cause I know I sure did get it. Hy got my blouse top halfway down and he was really winding my nipples around now, looking for that radio station.

He massaged them till I felt my insides glow like coals. And I felt a bit of sweat ooze down from in between my full, pounding hot cunt lips.

"Now, just lie back and open that luscious hot mouth of yours," Hy whispered, "I'll scoop that nasty sperm whale stuff right out of you."

"Okay," I said, "but hurry, we don't want it to swim too far."

He helped me pry that mouth of mine open as hard as I could. And I got a real good look at that tool of his. It wasn't sharp, but it sure was ample. A long, thick, dark rod with the biggest, fullest top on it. Like a fucking tulip bulb.

And every bit as hard and ready it was. Pounding and pulsating and hot. I could see the large, bluish vein running along the underside of it and that really got to me.

It was pounding so furiously, like a tom-tom. I could hardly take my eyes off it. I got a good close-up of it, too. A real good close-up. So close I could have spit on that thing.

"Are you sure you can scoop that stuff out?" I said, blinking my big blue eyes in disbelief. Shit, Doc, do you believe anybody could be as ignorant as me on that day? I sure have learned a lot of things since that day. But Hy didn't help. He didn't help one bit. He was sort of a deterrent to learning, if you ask me.

He stuck his mighty pecker tip up smart between my lips. I could feel the head of it beating against them.

"Open up," he said, "let me scoop that nasty stuff right out of there."

I relaxed my jaw long enough for him to stuff his ripe salami down inside me. It was one tight fit, let me tell you. I had never had anybody's cock anywhere near me, let alone down inside my mouth.

But this one was down there and scooping that sperm out that I thought he had stuck down there when he kissed me. I can't believe that I could have bought a line of skeets like that. But I did.

I let him plow me with that mighty long full dick stick of his. Shit it was planting time all over again that day.. He furrowed, he burrowed, he plowed and he probably fertilized, too.

The tears had begun to seep out my eyes. I felt like I would never catch another breath. I humped my hips up hard into his pelvis to get his attention to stop. It just hurt so damned much. "That's right," he was saying, "suck that thing till you burst, bitch."

I didn't know I was supposed to suck it. I tried my best, but nothing came out. He was sure doing yeoman's duty, though, plowing that big ornery prick down inside my throat, so I thought, and scooping out all that sperm that he had planted down there early with his tongue.

"Bite my prick, country cunt," he shouted, putting one knee down on one side of my shoulder, and one down next to the other, "bite it big."

From the size of it, there was no way I could have bitten it little. So I started to chew on the tip.

"Easy," he cried, "take it easy."

Now, Doc, I am a country girl and ignorant as they make them. But I had started to catch onto something that day. This here guy wasn't just doing work detail down there, reaming my throat out. - He was sort of liking it. I know cause I heard him moan. A real soft, hot moan. The kind I do when I take a big buttered corn cob into bed with me late at night.

"Shiiiiitttt!" he let go, "that feels mighty nice."

I couldn't say nothing, of course. And that was starting to bother me. I like it best when there's a two way conversation. I don't like my men to have the last word on everything.

He was clearly in that position now as he wiggled his mighty prick around and humped his huge hips up and down in my tight, wet, hot pink mouth gate. "Here it comes," he shouted, "here comes my prober. You're gonna feel this and how."

He pulled his wet, glistening pecker out quite a ways and I could see his whole shaft in front of my face if I crossed my eyes a little. It was such a big job. A huge wick stuck down there and throbbing harder every second.

I felt the two balls on either side of his dick bunch up like steel grapes, big ones. And then, a sudden thrust. A little like the exhaust action of a car when it goes speeding off.

And then, I saw a huge, hot load of white sticky goo come squirting out the tip of his big launching pad cock dome. It filled the slit first, then shot out and I got a real good look at it.

He stuffed his hot, hard log dick into my mouth.

"Now swallow that," he ordered, "swallow it and it'll send that old sperm out the other end."

Sounded unlikely, but I was too fucking hot to care at that point.

"I'm hot as July," he said, jumping up and down and sent his mighty big dick even further down my throat, "so eat this spunk, bitch. Eat it!!!"

I did eat it. I had never tasted it before. It was a little like dew. A little like porridge. A lot like fresh egg white.

But it was real nice jetting out the top of his big, rounded dick like that and I did eat it.

I swallowed every ounce of it, in fact. Every ounce and then some.

The stuff practically made a blizzard down my throat, it was so hot and hard and heavy and it was shooting down inside me so fast, I almost lost my fucking balance.

"Take it all," Hy shouted, "take it all down inside you. That's right. That's good."

He meant it. The look on his face sure showed that he did. He started to yank that pecker of his out and I looked at it in disbelief again. It had gone back to something like normal size. I was so intrigued.

How could someone look normal one second, get a thrusting, randy big boner the next, and get rid of it the next without taking it out of that dark mouth hole? I was just ever so fascinated.

But more than fascinated, I was hot. My legs were just sizzling, especially in between them and up slightly.

"Oooooh," I said, rolling over and letting my dress ride up naturally, as it tends to do when I'm doing the hootchy kootchy on a pile of chicken feed, "why don't you take a look down there and see if any of that nasty sperm has gotten pushed all the way down there yet?"

He didn't wait too long to oblige.

He lifted my skirt and pulled my panties down and made me spread my legs while he inspected me.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, propped up on his knees between my outstretched ones and thrusting his fingertips up inside my pussy slit.

"Yeah, yeah, what?" I said, "do you see it, or don't you?"

"Well, gimme a chance to feel around up inside there," he barked. "I aren't a Doctor, you know."

I knew. And I liked the way he was examining me, even if he wasn't a doctor.

"I think I feel some of that stuff coming out of you now," the man said, worming his fingers up inside me.

That sure did heat me up. Getting to feel those penetrating, bold and fat hard fingers stirring and whipping around inside me. They were making me giddy with heat and desire and lust.

Feelings I had never known before were coming up and choking me off at the groin. I couldn't believe the delicious feelings that I was getting, down inside me. It felt like there was something roasting inside my cunt lips.

Hy tweaked my clit with his fingers and I got even hotter. I closed my eyes and whispered to him, "take that stuff out, go on. I trust you."

I did, too. I trusted him to make me feel like I was feeling just then. Which was as sexy as I could be! I rode his hand real hard, pulsating my cunt lips around his fist and humping my luscious hips up and down, down and up. Real hard and fast and not thinking about anything in the world except how delicious it was to ride that expert hard hand of his.

"Come on," he said, "blow off. I want you to."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I could have guessed. I thought it had something to do with what I did when I took that corn cob into my room and pressed it up inside me for an hour or two.

After rubbing my clit and my cunt lips and the inside of them all over with that buttered corn cob, I usually flew right up off the bed and landed in a burst of glory that came from somewhere down inside me. Deep. Real deep.

And I guess that is what he wanted me to do just then. Fly off my handle. Well, why not? He had the right handle. And I sure had learned to fly with that corn cob by now.

"Whoopeeee!!!!!" I shouted as I felt myself toss my cookies in every direction at once. Toss my cookies, hell, I flipped my fucking lid, that's what I did.

Maybe it's just cause I realized right then and there that a man's hands are a damned sight better than an old corn cob. I don't know. I'm just an ignorant country cunt, like the man said.

But it sure was a blast to last that afternoon. Wowza! I nearly split my girdle and I wasn't even wearing one.

"Oh, Hy," I said, bouncing my hips up and down in my final paroxysms of joy, "you sure know how to get that old sperm wiggled out of me all right."

And ya know the real odd thing, Doc, is that when I looked down in between my legs? I really did see something that looked like spunk down there. I don't know that it wasn't.

Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that because I got taken in by this here city man that I wanted to think that slimy stuff pouring out of me was none other than Mr. Jerkowitz's jism.

Well, I guess that would kinda have made it romantic. I do suppose in fact that most of that come trail belonged to yours truly.

But I did like to think right then and there that it might have belonged to him. Shit knows he didn't give me a whole lot else.

Well, Doc, after that little episode, in which I learned nothing at all about sex, except that men have big sausages between their knees and that it's possible to shove sperm from a French kiss down inside your throat and scoop it out with your hand, well, other than those tasty bits of information, I learned bugger all from that little excursion into sex education.

But it didn't dampen my spirits any. No, siree. Quite the contrary. It got me all fired and ready to try something new. Something a little more different.

Now down home was a mighty small place. I decided to try and make it on my own in the big city. Cutcheon's Ridge. It's just up the road from Yellerman's Shoot. And it's got three more stores and a post office.

So, one night real late I packed my bag and headed out. I was all of fourteen then and my glands were just chomping at the bit to be let out into the world.

I wanted a real man. Not just a city slicker salesman to come along and really teach me something.

Shit, I wasn't gonna learn anything in that burg. Daddy was less skilled than me at having any brains. He thought a partly sunny meant a day when there was an eclipse. Now he wasn't bright. But then there was Digger, my brother. He thought Ellery Queen was a faggot.

Well, between the two of them I felt like a pressed flower. I couldn't learn nothing from any of the guys in Yellerman's Shoot neither, cause there weren't any. Most of them died from stupidity. Only kidding. Doc. But there was a shortage of able-bodied men in our ville.

So, as I said, I stole away in the dark of the night one weekend and Daddy never even heard me leave. I know it wasn't nice of me to sneak out like that, but Shucks!!!

What was I supposed to tell him? "I gotta get out of here, Daddy, cause you're stupid?" How would that sound? I left it. I just walked away from it.

I hoped they wouldn't come after me, but of course, they did. That is, Digger did. That boy has a nose for trails all right. Or maybe it was the fact that I had packed my few belongings in a feed bag and he just followed the trail of grain.

I did get to Cutcheon's Ridge. The post office had been torn down. There wasn't but one little cafe open in town. They didn't even have diet soda there. I don't think they ever heard of it.

So, I walked right down to the edge of town and looked around for the train station. There wasn't one. They'd gone and ripped up the tracks, too. Shit. I was just about to high tail it back to Yellerman's Shoot when I thought of the fast road. Now you don't call it that here in the city. I call it the fast road. It's called the expressway.

There was one running right down the road a piece, so I took off for it. I got there about five in the morning and I stuck out my thumb. That didn't work so I stuck out both of my thumb. Not too long after that a car pulled up. A businessman was sitting inside it. I swear to you, Doc, there's more salesmen in Kentucky than there is blue grass.

And this guy was one. He smelled it, he looked it, he talked it.

"Can I give you a lift, young lady?" he said, eyeing me from head to toe.

"Sure can," I said, opening the door and sliding in.

It was nice in there. Warm, cozy. There was even a little fire in the ashtray. He wasn't bad either. Kinda tall and lanky. Not real handsome. His hair was too stringy. But he looked like a home town boy.

Guess that's why I liked him. "Going to Louisville," he said, turning the radio on.

"Nice," I said, leaning my head back on the seat. I had on a sweater over my flour sack dress but it didn't hide my charms. My tits either.

"And you?" he said, giving me a long, low wink.

"Oh," I said, "whatever comes up, I'll take it."

Big mistake. Big, big mistake. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have gone and shot my mouth off that way. Acting big and tough. I wasn't. Doc, ya know. I was just one scared little country girl.

And at that time, I didn't even think this here guy intended to do me any harm.

"Mind if I pull over to a rest stop?" he said, "I gotta empty my bladder."

I knew what he meant. I may be ignorant, but I knew about body functions enough to catch his drift.

"Me, too," I said, smiling.

Now, Doc, that guy didn't have going to the outhouse in his mind at all. He was aiming to sock it to me. But I didn't know that. And I suppose, if you want the truth, that I wasn't too keen on draining my bladder, either.

I had been messing around with that corn cob and Jake Deeterson for the last two years. Oh, Jake Deeterson? He's a friend of Digger's. About a year younger or older, he ain't sure himself and nobody else seems to know.

Well, I had just about played that out. And by the time I saw this tall hunk of manflesh, well, I got to feeling real weak, ya know?

Weak in the knees and elsewhere.

"It's getting cold out there," I said, as we pulled up to the rest stop off the main stretch of highway.

"Yeah," this buckaroo said back, "guess we better stay in the car."

Now how he intended to empty his bladder and stay in the car at the same and exact time, don't ask me. But that is what he said.

"You must be a salesman," I allowed, realizing that he surely had to be and try to get away with a thing like that.

"How did you know?" he says, all smiles and a yard wide.

"You talk like one, I guess," I replied, "also, you smell like one. You wear that aftershave. What's it called? Bruised. Or something like that."

Here I thought that aftershave perfume stuff was called Bruised. Little did I know that that's what everybody would start calling me after I got out of that automobile.

Cause that salesman did a number on me.

Doctor. He certainly did. He started off by hugging up to me and acting like he was gonna treat me real sweet. I've noticed lately that if a guy treats you real sweet for openers, he's liable to cuff you to kingdom come before the final curtain goes down. That's what this critter intended to do. Shit, Doc, I was never hit around the house. I didn't have to take no guff off my old man so it really galled me good to have to take guff off my pick-up. Well, I was his pick-up. Okay.

The first thing he did was lean back in the seat and throw his arm up along it and look at me real queer. Now I should say right here that though I had every intention of being a good girl, I had been without a chance to toss my cookies for an awfully long time. I mean it had been nearly a year since Hy and I had gotten together. And I shore did run through the guys in the town fast. Well, there were only two of them that was white and able-bodied and under the age of seventy-five, so pickings were slim.

But I was a mite horny. I gotta say that on my own behalf. And it might help explain why I was just hankering for it by the time that sharpie got his paws on me.

If only I'd known what he had in mind when he came on. Lordie. I wouldn't have gone near him with a ten foot pole. But there I was in the front seat of his car with nary a pole in sight.

Cept for the one between his legs. Shit that thing was coming up faster than a tornado in autumn. He had a big one on him, too. I could see that.

"You like to watch nature?" he said, gesturing toward the pitch dark in front of his car window.

I did. But the only thing I could see was the big pair of dice hanging off his rear view mirror.

"I do most of the time," I replied, "when I can see it."

That made him giggle a little and warm up to me a bit more.

"You're a great conversationalist kid," he said, after a dead silence of fifteen minutes.

His pecker rod was doing a lot of the noise making during that time. It had started to thud pretty hard against his pants zipper. A melodious and welcoming sound if I do say so.

"Sure would like to get a chance to look at some real nature," he said, eyeing my twin mounds of voluptuous delight under that sweater and flour dress.

"Oh, these," I said, as if he was referring to a prize-winning set of hogs or something.

"Yeah," he said, real eager-like, "those."

"These ain't nothing," I said, sticking them out hard in his direction, "I sure think you must have seen pairs as good as these where you come from."

"Maybe," he said, "but I am a collector of beautiful things. I never get tired of viewing new samples."

Ain't that just like a salesman? Talking about my tits like they was collectible samples.

Well, I sort of played it kinda coy. My first mistake. Actually, it was my second. My first was trying to park with that sucker. Imagine me thinking he couldn't make a play for me right there in the front seat of the car. I was that dumb, though. Ah, for the good old days.

I batted my eyes and rolled them around at the same time. I must have looked real hot doing that. And I said, "well, I don't know. I was brought up to be a good little girl."

Suddenly, this dude changed. Like day unto night. He just scowled real hard and leapt up in the seat and bounced down on top of me pinning me to the back of that seat with his hands.

"You're gonna put out, Little Miss Muffet," he said, "and you're gonna put out right now."

I tried to smile real sweet, but that only made him draw his hand up sharp and slap me across the cheek. Imagine my surprise, Doc! No one had ever done that before. I don't think I was ever even kicked by a horse.

And here this long, tall ugly dude was making me his private punching bag right there in the rest stop on the expressway. That sure did a number on my gorgeous little blonde head.

"All right," I said, feeling his hand rap me again and again across the face and about the shoulders, "I'll do anything you like."

"You bet you will," this gross ass face said back to me.

He sure did look mean there in the dark that night. Mean and surly and big and just plain awful.

His pecker was made to match him, too, cause when he whipped it out, I got a good look at it. It was long and thin and lanky and ugly as they make them.

Real hard and full of throbbing bluish veins. The cock meat was stiff, ya know? Real stretched out and pounding hard. And his head was shaped like a silo that wouldn't stop shaking. Quivering I suppose you call it.

There was this massive slit in his dick head, too. Deep and full of bubbling semen. It was hot and gurgled out at irregular intervals.

Now by this time, I was still a trifle naive. But I had gotten over the idea that sperm is something you can implant with a kiss and scoop out with your fingers after it's travelled down through your body.

I was, however, hung up on the idea that I could get praggers if this guy was to kiss me real deep. And so I begged him not to.

If you ask me, that's just what he wanted to hear. He seemed delighted at the prospect of not having to kiss me on the mouth. He just went right for the department store windows. My two big headlight knockers.

He started rubbing them so hard I feared they'd catch fire. First together, then separately, then against his big long dick knob. Ooooooh, that was nice. Having him rub his dick top against my nipples.

It made them stand up like stiff, rubbery peaks. It made me wince in agony of getting all turned on again.

"Now I'm gonna stick this here down there between your legs," he said, waving his cock around like a surrender flag.

"I don't think so," I said, "on account of we ain't even engaged yet."

"Shut up you ignorant country slut," the guy said. He was clearly going contrary to my upbringing by now and I had already started to resent him.

But before I had a chance to protest, he had yanked his belt out of its hoops and was holding it up in the air. He didn't hold it there long, either. He brought it right down onto my heaving high proud bosom, he did.

Can you feature that? I never even got a chance to protest. He just hauled off and whacked me square on the knockers.

I was bursting with anger. Also pain. The damn cowhide belt hurt like Hades.

"What the hell are you... " I started to say, wondering why I needed to ask when the whole thing was so painfully obvious.

"I'm teaching you a little respect," he said, flailing away at my tit peaks.

He never lost his erection the entire time he beat those luscious white knobs either. It just kept throbbing away, getting stiffer if anything.

I don't want to go into the little cuts all over my knocker knobs, Doc. They had started to glow and pain me a whole lot by the time he had dug into me more than a few minutes. I was reeling from the pain. It hurt back to my rib cage.

"Owwwwww!!!" I said, trying to grab his arm.

Now here is the odd thing, Doc. I am a strong girl. A strong, country girl. I'm pretty sure I could have taken this guy in a fair fight. I always took Digger and his friends in a fight. Also my daddy. Likewise anybody else.

But I forgot that I could probably take this guy in a pinch. It certainly was that now. A pinch and a pain. But I let him beat me a bit more.

Isn't that weird? The only thing I can think is that I liked it. I must have. Why else didn't I fight him? I could have grabbed that thing away from him and thrashed him plenty with it. But I didn't. That's the odd thing. The thing that makes me think I had been looking for it or asking for it or whatever you call it.

I had wanted to have this guy play smackarola with me. My tits were turning into hamburger patties. Big ones, but raw and red for all that.

"Stop," I cried, finally, "I'll let you. I'll let you. Just don't hit me again. Not on my tits anyway!!!!!!"

He stopped for a moment and when he sank back to his knees I could still see that rock hard pecker of his jutting up there like a guided missile. And I had a pretty good idea where I wanted to guide it.

I pulled my legs apart and whispered to him real soft. "Drop that belt, will ya, hon?"

I lowered my panties with great difficulty and lifted up my flour sack dress skirt. He started panting real heavy when I showed him my twat. It's blonde, Doc. Natural blonde and curly and real naughty looking.

Like it was made just to be fucked. I got this curly angel hair. Soft and fuzzy, but downy. And it curls up all over either side of my cunt lips and up on my pussy mound. It is real exciting to see, I know. Cause every guy I showed it to in Yellerman's Shoot sure did get off on it.

My cunt lips are real plump and full and of course when I get excited they swell up even more and part a little to show my hot, pink slippery clit.

It's a whopper, Doc. The size of a man's thumb. And this guy seemed to know just what to do with it. He didn't hit me with his belt, though. Maybe I was kind of expecting it.

I think that's why I had been holding my breath. Only I didn't want to let on that I was panting to beat the band myself.

He was. I could hear him even over the car heater.

The two of us must have sounded like a pack of asthmatic wolves.

"Ooooooh," I said, as he shoved the gates of my hot, fleshy portals apart and shoved the tip of his prick up inside there.

Mean as he was, he sure knew how to use that pole of his. He stirred it around and scooped out a whole lot of pussy honey. It was running out my box and making me hotter than ever.

It sloshed down onto my leg and I think he probably got some on his balls. Lord knows they were big enough to get in the way of the direct flow. They were bouncing real hard against his pecker, which I could feel the whole time he was balling the spunk out of me.

"Take that dick, you country hick," he was shouting, at the top of his lungs. "Take it up to your throat, you little yokel. "Oooooooooh," I let out a second time as he continued to drill the life out of me. I had never had such an intense jacking in all my born days. I thought a corn cob was long-lasting. Shit! One of those things could be pig fodder and then fertilizer before his big log ground to a halt.

It must have taken him twenty or twenty five minutes of solid jacking to get him off. He had gotten me off about ten times by then.

I could feel that nasty big ramrod of his digging inside me, scooping me out, yanking out and then diving right back down inside me again.

What a trip! And I hadn't gone but ten miles with him!!!

"Oh, Shit," I cried, feeling a log of come sticking up there inside me, just waiting to roll out down the waterfall of my jism.

"Come on then," he cried, "let her rip."

I did. I blasted a mighty load of come out me and humped my hips so hard up and down on that seat, I feared I'd bust the springs.

That's about the time he popped. Just let go his man load and spunked all up inside me he did. It was a glorious feeling. To be immersed like that in hot, thick, creamy goo.

"Here," he said, finally, hauling his still rock hard pecker out of my slit and stuffing it into my face, "lick me off."

"Well, I don't know," I said, hoping he might get out his big belt and start all over again, "I wasn't raised to do nothing like... " That's as far as I got before he collared me behind the neck and shoved my face down onto his dick pole.

"Yum, yum," I said, after I had scarfed his spunk up good. "That sure was tasty. Got anymore where that came from?"

Yes, Doc, I was a mighty callow kid in those days. A real hick. You bet. I did finally get to Louisville. Took a room downtown and started to meet some real nice guys.

Salesmen, most of them. Well, it's not surprising I suppose. Considering my past. But I did end with a kind of funny thing happening.

You see, I sort of liked that little whipping that salesman gave me at the rest stop. I didn't want to like it. I sensed there was something wrong with me liking it. But I did.

nevertheless.

And so, when Digger finally ran away and came to Louisville, I had to find a place for both of us to live. We got a little cottage on the edge of the city.

Yes, we do sleep together from time to time. I mean, we have sex. He is the only boy I ever loved. And teaching him the art of whipping me about the shoulders, just playfully, you understand, with his big cowhide belt, buckle end up, has been one of the delights of my life. He's taken to it real good He says it's a big help getting to whip me, 'cause it's good practice for what he wants to do in life. Which is to be a rodeo cowboy.

We don't tell everybody we're brother and sister. Maybe sometime, we will. I ain't ashamed of it. He's such a delicious hunk of man meat. I could scarf him everyday of the year.

Well, that's about it. Doc. I just have one itsy-bitsy problem. You see, I don't even feel like going out to meet any nice guys anymore. Digger and I just stay home at night and he spanks me a bit and I tease him a bit. Then we have sex and fall out.

He has a job at a dairy. I have a job nearby in a diner. So money is no problem. Also, to take in a little extra cash, I sometimes invite salesmen over and they pay me if I let them give me a teensie weensie spanking.

With their belts, their hands, their boots. Anything like that. Sometimes Digger watches and we get paid a little extra. Other times. Digger lets these guys do a few other things to me and he watches and jerks off at the same time.

We get paid quite a bit extra for that.

In fact, I'm thinking about quitting my job at the diner. Sometimes, we tell the salesmen that we're brother and sister and do a little play acting for them, too.

Like maybe Digger would ride me around the room a bit, ya know. Practicing up to be a rodeo cowboy. And then he could just let me suck his big prick or fuck me while I suck the salesmen's prick.

Ya know. Harmless stuff like that. I figure it's okay, cause Digger and I, well, we're close. We're from the same family. I don't figure there's no law against what two consenting people do who are almost adults. I am, but Digger's got a few years to go.

Anyway, that's where things stand. All right by me. Though sometimes I do wish I could meet some guys who weren't salesmen. Also, that Digger might find a nice girl to bring home and maybe I could meet somebody new that would be a friend.

Other than that, though, I don't complain.

Guess I better go, huh? You probably got a lot of people waiting out there with real problems. Don't you?

Jody K. has real problems. Unfortunately, she lacked some of the basics of a normal upbringing.

Parents, often as a matter of course, pass on a value system to their children. A code of morals, if you will. Jody didn't get one. She might as well have been an orphan for all the training she got at home. Her father apparently didn't give a hoot about her. Her brother was only concerned with how he could use her. He, too, got little or no parental upbringing.

Jody complained about her lack of sex education. That, too, was sad. She should have been given enough to start her on her way so she wouldn't have been the willing and vulnerable dupe for the first horny salesman to come along.

But she is a sexually active young woman. Her glands were crying out for attention. But unfortunately, she was ill-prepared to do much to defend herself or her sense of what was right.

And the saddest thing is that Jody is now a prostitute. I know she wouldn't believe me if I told that to her point blank, but that seems to be the case. She doesn't see it in the larger context.

She sees only that young men pay her to let them whip her or watch while she has sex with her brother. She finds that acceptable, since he is her brother. It's really quite shocking. And to think that she doesn't believe what she is doing is against the law. She is a sitting duck for an arrest. And her brother is a minor. That could make matters even worse, should the authorities find out what she is up to.

I have recommended a program of education for Jody. Both sexual and social education. She needs to learn more about the world before it turns on her. God willing, it will happen in time.

---------------------

YOLANDE J.

Yolande J. had an upbringing quite different from my first patient whose story you have read above. She came from people with money, prestige, ambition and advantages.

Yet Yolande chose a harsher way to travel. She didn't want to be dependent on her family name to see her through. And believe me when I tell you, she is from one of the best known and wealthiest families in the country.

It is not for nothing that we use pseudonyms here. I was rather surprised to see this girl's checkbook, actually. I found out that the name on it was one so well- known and respected across the nation that I winced.

I wasn't sure I could even accept her as a case. At first I balked, but when she begged and pleaded with those wide grey-green eyes of hers, I confess I accepted her as a patient.

She was so persuasive. I could tell that she had probably used her beauty to get what she wanted often, as well as her intelligence.

She lacked for neither. The girl was truly gifted in all departments. With a family background of fame and fortune, an education to rival any of the best, and a face and figure that wouldn't quit, I thought Yolande uniquely prepared to take on the world.

But I was mistaken. Her story disclosed a tragic life. A tormented past that she had to come to grips with... or pay the consequences.

Oh, Doctor, thank you so much for taking me on. I knew you would understand. It is so good to know that my particular case is now in the hands of a finely skilled professional.

I've heard so many things about you. I know that you're listed in "Who's Who In Medicine" and that you've published several books. I think my case might end up in one of them.

I hope I don't end up in a worse place than one of your books. I am going to have to reveal my story to you now, but I feel a little sad in doing so. I hope you will not think ill of me.

I know that a man and professional of your stature is less concerned with me as a person than with me as a patient, and that is the way I want it. Please try to forget for a few hours who I am. I am simply a young woman in desperate need of help.

I passed my twenty-second birthday last week, and I feel old already. Alas! I hope that I will be able to keep the flow of tears back long enough to tell you my tale of woe.

Dear me, where shall I begin? Ah, yes. Both my parents doted on me. I was the last child and only girl of the family. Of course, my father envisioned me going to the finest schools. To the best resorts.

And at an early age, I thought that stuff grand. I was shipped off to Treatmor Ladies College at the ripe old age of five and a half. Did I mention that my mother had an active social calendar and that my presence was only getting in the way of her enjoying her parties and get-togethers?

At Treatmor, I encountered many girls like myself. I suppose you might say I was comfortable there for a long time. The teachers were the best, and the facilities lacked for nothing.

There was a heated pool in the back of our dormitory where we swam every day, rain or shine. And there were stables there, too. There weren't many visits from my parents, but neither were there from any of the other girls' parents. So, I didn't feel so strange.

Now, Doctor, I had gone from a loving, doting atmosphere, to what felt like complete and total neglect by my parents. They had dumped me at Treatmor, and from comparing my history to the other girls at Treatmor, I knew this was true.

All their parents had dumped them there.

Cruel, but that's what wealthy and well-known parents can do, if they like. They have that privilege.

Now the first thing I did, once I made the discovery that my parents had gotten rid of me by boarding me out, was to rebel.

Perhaps you are familiar with the usual childhood pranks. Doctor. Short-sheeting the beds. Rubbing petroleum jelly on the door knobs. Wrapping the toilet seat holes with clear plastic wrap.

That was fine. As far as it went. But by the time I was ten, I had pretty much run the gambit. I had done all the things little girls... and boys, I suppose... do to amuse themselves and to play at being what we considered diabolical.

So, what can I say? The pranks got a bit meaner. My roommate and I proved to be two of the worst offenders, in fact.

Her name was Mazie and she was my age. A blonde girl. Unlike me in the looks department. She was in sharp contrast to this raven-colored mop of mine. Yes, I developed early, Doctor.

I started getting a shape on me at a tender age. A fine shape, too, judging from the way the boys at the neighboring Harcross Academy used to look at me whenever we had mixers or took field trips together.

I had begun to develop a good, firm set of hips on me. And my tits had started to perk up and form loving bulges that pressed against the material of my blue serge uniform.

Now, I won't deny that I used to stroke them at night. I thought it would make them stop itching. I guess I thought that's what they were doing was itching. I didn't realize they were just going through growing pains.

My roommate would join in sometimes. Good grief, Doctor, we didn't know we were doing anything wrong. The school was antediluvian as far as their sex education was concerned.

I mean, they didn't give us any at all. A few vague charts, diagrams of a human body that you couldn't tell if it was a male or female from looking at. And they pointed out a few asexual body functions to us. Like bowel movements and sweating.

Yuk! Well, Doctor, with all that going for us, is it any wonder Mazie and I spent the greater part of our nights together exploring each others' developing forms?

I would usually start off by crawling into her bunk bed with her. The lower bunk, in case we got into it pretty heavy and fell out, we wouldn't have so far to fall.

She was one hot little nymphet, too, let me tell you. Her tits hadn't grown quite so large as mine yet, but they were catching up. And the fur on her pussy was delicate, but most definitely covered either of her lustrous pink pussy lips.

The first thing we would do when we crawled into bed together was to pull up each others' nighties and throw them onto the floor. Not smart, considering our counselors checked on us from time to time during the night.

But let me state again. Doctor, we didn't know what we were doing. We had absolutely no idea that we would be violating any sort of school ethics code by fingering each others' pussies, or playing with each others' tits.

"You first," Mazie would say, as she always remembered who's turn it was.

"You sure?" I said, since I wanted to be the first to get felt up. The person who went first had to do the feeling.

Now, we were extremely callow then. Though we were only ten, and our bodies and I suppose our psyches were crying out to be held and loved, still we had a little bit of a ritual to follow.

Also, we began rather crudely I am afraid to say. Being unaccustomed to playing with another girl's body, we often opted for the simplest means of exploration.

For example, I would use the handle of a hairbrush on Mazie. To burrow into her tight cunt slit, I mean.

And, often, she would use something homemade on me, as well. She had a lot of large paint brushes strewn about the place. And she would often tickle me with the bristles. Way up inside my cunt sometimes, I might add, though I do blush to reveal it.

Ah, Doctor, what can I say about our lovely sessions together. They were blissful.

Partly I think because we were so naive. And somewhat, I think, because we always succeeded in turning each other on like mad.

"Oooooh," Mazie let out of her hot, pink mouth as she licked her lips and felt my big rosy-tipped knockers rubbing against her own pink-nippled ones. "That feels so good."

I really let her have it with the handle of the hairbrush, now that I think of it. I would get her real steamed up to take it inside her, too. I did that by brushing my nipples against hers and also by bumping pussy.

That was a particularly sweet interlude we shared. We would spread out legs out wide and hump each other on the clits. It's easy, once you master a few obstacles.

Like the fact that we had to lie across each other scissors-fashion. That way, our clits would always touch. I could rub hers like that for hours, before she achieved climax.

I don't think either of us knew what climax was. But I always loved it when she started moaning. That meant that she had reached some sort of recognizable place along the path of her arousal.

"Ooooooh," she would cry, softly into my ear as she humped up and down under my outstretched umbrella of a cunt. "I'm sailing away."

That meant she was coming, though we didn't know it at the time.

And, that was the signal for me to pick up the hairbrush. She would be wet enough for me to penetrate her. And I did. I scooped that thing into her and watched as the sweet, clear honey come would trickle out of her and run down her thighs.

I would love to lick it up and then suck her tits real hard while I got her off to still another climax, which, as I mentioned, we had no idea was a climax. Zany, wasn't it?

But young people will do those things when they are desperate for love and understanding. And both of us surely lacked for those things, Doctor.

I loved the feel of the soft sable brush against my cheeks. Both sets. I loved the way Mazie stroked me as though there were no tomorrow. She got into it with a passion. Doctor.

I didn't know young love could be so sweet. Actually, neither of us thought we were doing anything out of line. We just thought we were making those vague longings go away for twenty-four hours.

"You like that, don't you?" Mazie would say, wiggling that soft, bristly paint brush into my cunt. "You're squirming, that's how I know."

I was, too. I always did when she came at me with that thing. It still makes me wither just to think about it. The slow, sensual buildup of my passion had begun with those exploits, Doctor.

And still, to this day, I cannot be quickly aroused. Whoever is making love to me, has to take their time. I simply can't get turned on if it's rushed. Maybe I'm spoiled. I like to think so.

I came in torrents once that paint brush started wiggling around in brush strokes over my slippery, hot wet clit button.

"Wowie!!!!!" I would let out, spreading my legs far apart in a V position and watching that adorable blonde cutie press her agile brush up into my cunt hole, then bring it around and swirl all over my clitoris with it.

I was good for about five or six more of those. And that usually took us till nearly dawn. Where do young girls get all that energy, Doctor? We sure had it and plenty to spare.

Mazie always took her time with me. She would work me up real slow to another entirely wild orgasm. I convulsed into the second time, usually. I would just go so wild over that adorable thing painting me with that dry, soft brush.

"Oh, no," I cried, for the last time that night as I spilled over into my sixth hot and eager orgasm, "I can't take anymore."

"I bet you could," Mazie challenged, "you always do."

Well, she had a point there. I could always take more and come up fighting. Or fight coming up. Or fight up coming. Whatever you will. Doctor. I just want to stress here that I was a very horny young girl.

Sex seemed to provide endless hours of fascination for me. I never grew tired of it.

I had, however, grown tired of playing silly, childish pranks. By the time I was twelve, I had graduated to bigger and better stuff. For example, Mazie and I once sneaked into Miss Ullman's dorm room and... oh, yes, Miss Ullman was our counselor. She was a dreary old dyke if you ask me. At least I thought she was, but the day we found that diaphragm in her closet, we were a bit surprised.

She must have had a boyfriend to use that thing. Well, we were feeling very mischievous that day, so we poked a hole in it with a pin. Maybe it was a needle, but I know for certain it was a hole.

Not one you could see with the naked eye, but I bet those tiny little jillions of sperm could have found it.

At least, that's what we were banking on when we popped it. We had a good laugh over that four months later, when Miss Ullman dropped out of Treatmor for a much needed rest. Went to the country somewhere to stay with an aunt for the remainder of the year. Ho hum. Bet that little prank netted her at least a five pound baby boy or girl. Who's to say? We never saw her again.

Then there was the peeping. I don't think we intended to become voyeurs. I think we thought we were honestly just having a good time. Playing games, what have you.

But we managed to see quite a bit for our ages. And our experience. Remember, nothing either of us knew up till then could quite compare with the picture we got on that night we went peeking.

Let's see. How did it all began? Ah, yes. One warm spring evening, Mazie and another friend, Jackie and I were out trying to stir up trouble. The grounds of Treatmor are huge.

But they weren't big enough to contain our wanderlust that night, no siree. We wanted more. Much more. And, as young girls will, we determined to get it.

It wasn't too difficult to get off the grounds of that place. You just had to want to bad enough. We did. The three of us put on our jeans and sneakers, and we set off for adventure.

We weren't sure just what kind of adventure we were setting off for, but knowing the three of us, we figured it had to have something to do with sex. For all of us had really begun to flower.

We felt like ripe little buds on the end of a branch. Ready to bloom and glow. All we needed was a chance. And we were taking it, never mind the weather!

"Now you wait here for the signal," Jackie told us, as we all three crouched down low in the rose garden.

Jackie had diabetes, so the night guard had instructions to let her go out if she needed insulin. She had gone to the nurse with a note which said she had changed prescriptions lately.

Well, we had forged that note. It was supposed to be from her mother. It was actually from Mazie who wrote like a grown-up. Anyway, we were three of us, very hot and eager kids all right.

Her idea was to distract the guard. To show him the note and while he was reading it, we could sneak through.

It worked like a charm. We always knew there was a good reason why we invited dear Jacqueline on these nocturnal escapades. And we knew it after that night.

Being a diabetic gave her a clear advantage over the other girls in Treatmor.

"Come on," I heard Mazie whisper as the guard stood with his back to us and read the note of instructions from the Treatmor nurse.

We both took off over the newly-plowed earth and headed toward the little dim light over the front gate.

By the time he was finished reading, it was all over. We had gotten through handily, thanks to our plans and Jackie's note.

"Where shall we go?" Jackie said now.

She didn't have quite the imagination that we had.

"Iggy's house," Mazie said, playfully.

"Great idea," I shot back.

Dr. Ignatius, we called him 'Iggy' you see, well, this good woman was the head of Treatmor. She lived not far off. A few blocks away. Within spitting distance of the school, we used to say. And occasionally, she had open house.

During these occasions, the girls of Treatmor would dress up in their best linen suits and linen gloves and go to her house to drink tea and eat cookies off linen napkins. Well, tonight we decided to pay a little visit to her place.

We had heard that she gave wild parties. It was just a rumor, and I even think Mazie and I started it, but we were bound to find out.

"Wonder if Iggy will be taking a bath," Jackie said, stifling a giggle.

"Great," I said, "we can watch her in the tub."

"Who'd want to?" Mazie squealed, "she's big as a tub that woman."

We all started laughing then. She was a big woman. But she was by no means ugly or unfortunate looking. She had silver hair, to be sure. But a dynamically youthful body and a queenly bearing. She actually strutted, I think that's the word.

She used to walk around the school grounds with that ramrod spine arched up and her rather voluminous tits sitting there like the continental shelf. And she had long show-girl type legs. We could see that, even though she often wore dark stockings.

She was nearly six foot tall and quite imposing to look at.

I suppose she frightened us all a bit. But we were looking forward to the prospect of spying on her, having already spied on everything around the grounds worth looking at.

And let me tell you, watching Herman Schmidt, the caretaker, and his wife, Elga, make love inside her big flannel nightgown was hardly worth the trip up their sycamore tree.

But we thought this might be fun... we had no idea what Iggy's house looked like. But we knew her address. We also had no idea where her bedroom was, or whom she took to bed with her.

But very shortly, we were to find out these things and many, many more.

"Oh," said Jackie when she got a look at the huge Victorian mansion the good doctor and head of Treatmor Ladies College lived in.

"It's big, isn't it?" Mazie said, sounding more faint of heart than I wanted to hear her sound at that particular moment.

"It's a fucking house," I said, "no more, no less. My parents' servants' quarters is bigger than this."

Well, that seemed to quiet them down a bit. We had to climb a fence to get to her place and we sure looked around for a dog or something else when we got in. But nobody was there.

At least we didn't see anybody right off. We sort of thought the coast was clear, you see, Doctor. We felt safe and decided to continue on with our little adventure.

We quietly stole up to the house and took turns checking out first one window, then the other. They were windows to the first floor. We didn't see anything.

Just a bunch of old furniture, some grand old lights. Nothing unusual. Dr. Ignatius lived well, but there wasn't much going on her life apparently.

We tiptoed around to the back and saw our first glimpse of her garage. It was an enormous old coach house. There were four or five cars parked in and around it. We thought they might be guest cars. We knew Iggy had an old sedan, but she was a mite eccentric. These cars were all polished and of late and very expensive models.

Well, the three of us had a good look-see at them all. We were right in the middle of peeking inside them when we heard a noise coming from the room over the garage. This garage had been an old carriage house so it was huge, let me tell you.

There was a stairs up to this room over the garage, so the three of us hushed ourselves down good and started up. One stair at a time, because they creaked.

"Shhhhhhhh!!!!!" Mazie said to me, "be quiet or we'll catch a demerit."

I knew and Mazie knew and Jackie knew, too, that we could catch a lot more than a demerit for what we were attempting to do. Which was to sneak into our principal's house and spy on her.

Well, not in actually, but up to.

That would still have been reason enough for her to expel us. If we were caught, but we didn't plan to be. Well, we had gotten away with so much stuff up to that point, we just couldn't see getting our scalps snatched off for a little harmless peeking.

Ha! Little did we know we would get a lot worse than that!

"Come here," Jackie said, her eyes shaded by her hands.

She was standing on that second floor wraparound porch and gazing in through one of the windows. Lights shone out from the inside and there was a lot of loud music.

Again, the noise. It was a scream. I think it was a scream. But it also sounded a little like a snap of some kind.

"Take a look at that," Jackie whispered, beckoning us over, "but watch out. We don't want them to look over."

Once I saw what was going on inside, I sort of lost my fear of that. They were all obviously so engrossed in entertaining themselves in that huge room that night, I don't believe they ever would have looked over.

To this day, I still don't believe it. Though I know such things are done today at least.

"Whip that sucker!!!!" I heard someone shout. The voice was familiar. The voice, but not the face. Whoever said it was wearing black tights, high black leather boots with metal studs on them and his wristbands, and a mask over his face.

A woman was standing in the center of the room. She was holding onto a huge braided whip handle.

It was absolutely the longest whip I had ever seen. Longer than a snake. Than a clothesline. And she sure did know how to use it.

She appeared to be an expert. And she appeared to be familiar. It was most definitely Dr. Ignatius. Dr. Oona Ignatius, our fair principal.

Our very own headmistress was now acting out the part of mistress for someone else. We recognized her, even though she had a mask on. It was that stunning silvery hair of hers, piled so high on top of her head It was also that hot body she had, made even more desirable now because it had been so tightly packed into a black leather camisole that tied up the back like the picture of a medieval girdle I saw once somewhere.

It was a spooky looking thing. And it was effective. It certainly gave me a moment or two of the shakes. Also, a sudden, awesome respect for authority.

I don't think I would have dared to cross Dr. Ignatius in class if she were dressed like that. Her black stiletto boots were the highest and sharpest-pointed that I had ever seen.

Her black fishnet stockings emphasized the strong, taut lines of her legs. And that camisole top snuggled under her tit mounds, pressing them up and over the top of that obscene leather harness and making them stand out even further than they did most days.

They were covered by only the sheerest tuft of black net stuff that allowed a lot of her tit flesh to show above the nipples. And you could plainly see her nipples through that material. They were gigantic. As big around as a pair of silver dollars.

She had a particularly rapt subject at the moment. Someone she appeared to be punishing, though I had no idea what he had done.

Again, it was a male. A sturdy-looking beefy sort of guy. The kind that three young horny lassies in heat would have absolutely drooled over if he hadn't been tied up to what looked like a telephone pole by shackles that ran to handcuffs that held his hands high above his body.

His body was hanging like dead weight under his arms. He had the biggest, most muscular arms the three of us had ever even seen on a man. And I know we all smitten at once.

But what could we do? Dr. Ignatius had his complete attention just then. He had on black tights, like the other man. But the front of them had been cut out.

It was odd, and we didn't see much at first, but as he dangled slowly around in a circle, more toward us, and as Dr. Ignatius kept flailing that huge, hard weapon tip along his back, opening up the flesh and showing red gullies underneath, we could start to see the glimmerings of what promised to be a delightfully huge and impossibly hard erection.

It surely proved to be an educational sight, Doctor. None of us had ever seen anything so big and bold and juicy. We were actually pushing each other out of the way to catch a glimpse of it.

"Take that, you slimy cretin," the beauteous woman railed, holding her whip up sharp and bringing it down with a splat over the man's shoulder. She left a long, deep welt in the man's skin.

We all cringed, thinking him in dire pain, but we were quite shocked when we saw a pained smile cross his face. The part below the mask.

"Now will you listen to me when I speak to you?" the woman said.

She sounded very authoritative. Kind of like she sounded on the grounds of the girls' school, but here, even more so. And there was not a doubt in our minds that she was in complete control. One look at the surly tip of her whip would tell you that.

"You will do as I command, now," the woman said, with utmost assurance.

She had begun to parade around in front of the assembled guests. There were perhaps a dozen of them. A smallish party. But a select group. The women were all beautiful.

And the men were all muscularly developed and quite masculine looking from our line of vision. Which was getting blurred at the moment from all the steam coming out of our mouths and covering the window.

"Yes, Mistress," the man said, swaying to one side in a gesture that looked like he was giving into her completely.

"You will do as I command always, won't you. Slave?" the woman snapped, again snapping the whip at her side.

The others, who were similarly dressed, seemed quite engrossed in the goings-on in there They were of a mind, or so it appeared, and all had their eyes glued fast on the action as it continued to unfold before them.

"Yes, Mistress," the man said, through drying, parched lips.

Then, the lips again broke into a smile. This dismayed the three of us a bit. We weren't used to seeing people smile when they got punishment. None of us ever smiled if we were disciplined at Treatmor.

If one of the counselors so much as made us stay on campus for a weekend for cutting up in the dorm dining room, we sulked for days.

But here this man was, getting the beating of his or anyone else's life and smiling right back at it.

I never in all my days witnessed such an oddity. One of the women who was looking on suddenly ripped her black leather jacket off to reveal two huge, upswept tit loaves that ended in big, lustrous rosy nipples.

"Oh, whip me, Mistress," she started to say, writhing on the ground as she eased her way out of the skin tight leather pants she was wearing. She had a black garter belt and stockings with tight, sheer black panties on over the garter belt.

She kept a pair of short black leather boots on. Ones with adorable silver studs all over them.

I was intrigued. I had never seen such costumes. I had, by that time, as I believe Jackie and Mazie had, too, figured out that we were watching a costume party.

"You must whip me immediately," the woman shrieked, "I demand it."

She, too, had on a black mask. But I could see she was beautiful. She had reddish, long hair that was piled high on her head, permitting one to see the beauty in the shape of her skull.

She looked vaguely familiar to me. She looked a little like Miss Kirkpatrick, our Sociology teacher. But I couldn't be sure, since I had never seen Miss Kirkpatrick with black mesh stockings and a garter belt on and her top off.

"Mistress Joy will decide when you are worthy of a beating. Slave," the woman said, turning on the lady who was still writhing on the ground, crawling toward her.

"Oh, please, Mistress," the woman pleaded, "I must have a whipping now. I'm coming out of my skin with desire. I need it. Oh, give it to me, I beg you."

"Tie this bitch up," the silver-haired dominatrix yelled, "tie her to the cross beam.

Indeed, there was a cross beam in the center of the room. I believe the room was a gymnasium of some sort, though no one was doing any tumbling just now. There were bar bells and other kinds of gym equipment around.

And this red-haired girl was about to be lashed over the cross beam, bottom side up.

Two dominants, both dressed in black, approached her and dragged her across the floor. She left only a trail of her boot tips as she was hauled over the boards and strapped down hard across the beam.

"Oh, God!!!!!" she cried aloud, "I've got to have that whip. Bite me with it. Please!!!!!!"

The males took their work quite seriously. They did a good job of tying her up and down and around and then, as a final touch, they ripped her panties down, exposing two of the most perfectly ivory round buttocks you could imagine.

"Look at that," the silver-haired bitch queen urged, "see this slovenly tart thrown over that beam. She's begging to be beaten. And you know why?"

Shouts in unison of "No Mistress," filled the air.

"Because she deserves it," the woman snarled, "she's got it coming to her and she's got it coming good. Better stand back if you've got a weak stomach."

With that, she snapped her fingers and one of the dominant attendants gave her a second whip. It was just leather, unbraided. But black and terribly frightening to see and hear.

She snapped it once. It sounded louder than a gun shot. It must have been a bullwhip, I think.

Now, the bitch goddess had two whips... one in each hand. And she could use them, too. She knew just what to do in fact. She was amazingly versatile for one so busy.

She snapped them both at the same time. She curled one up like a snake's tongue and spat it out hard across the room so that the tip of it touched the woman's exposed ass mounds.

"Aaiiieeeee!!!!!!!" the woman screamed, "help!!!!!!"

"Help from one who's been begging for it all night long?" the silver-haired queen asked her associates, "I can hardly believe my ears."

Again, she lashed the whip out. Then, both whips. Two reddish welts appeared. One on either cheek of the bitch across the beam. Then, the woman criss crossed her whips and slashed her again across the bare, quivering rear end.

Then, the bitch parted her whips, striking them out in totally different directions. The sound of the two whips snapping simultaneously was positively chilling. And she hit both of her slaves at once, too, with a different whip.

It was one of the most awesome sights I have ever seen or ever hope to see. This power-crazed bitch goddess, pounding the flesh of these two more than willing slaves.

They shrieked in unison this time. The woman was just incredibly talented with those whips. But the most remarkable part was how much her slaves seemed to want her to mangle them.

She seemed to be totally in control. All eyes were transfixed on her. And I could see why. Mine were. So were Jackie's. And so were Mazie's.

I have to say right here. Doctor, that not only were my eyes fixed on her, my cunt was, too. Not that I've got eyes down there, I wouldn't claim that. But my cunt was quivering like crazy at the thought of that woman flailing those two subjects till they bled.

And the looks of agonized joy on their faces!!!!! That's the part that really hit me where I lived. They were into it. They were loving it. They were scooping up every delicious second of it and savoring it. Incredible. But true. Quite true.

And true for me, too. I had started to savor more and more of the enticing, magnetic action in that loft room. I worked my way a bit closer to the window and felt my girlfriend's heart pounding like a jackhammer.

It wasn't the only thing around there that was. I looked inside and saw that the man, in his agony, had swayed far enough to one direct on to reveal a massive, engorged cock hard on.

The thing looked like a enlarged bullet, about to be zapped through the nearest wall. Like a missile about to be launched. I could hardly believe how captivating that sight was.

I had gotten so hot and wet just sitting there watching it, I feared I would catch pneumonia from sweating. And now, this man with his deliriously huge hard on facing slightly toward us. Enough for us three to catch a good, hot glimpse of him.

One of his huge, heavy and hairy balls was dangling out the black cut out front of his tights. I had the overwhelming urge to break the little window and run over there and cup my hands under it. It was driving me to distraction, that really delicious chunk of man meat.

"Oh, golly," I heard Mazie say. I think it was Mazie. Maybe it was Jackie.

But whoever it was, she was just expressing what the other two of us were thinking. We were so hot, so eager and wet for a chance just to get close to that inviting chunk of dick meat, we could barely restrain ourselves. "I want to go in and get it," Jackie said, "And if that Dr. Ignatius has to whip me to get it, I want it anyway."

She pretty well expressed my own thoughts on the subject.

"Be quiet," Mazie said, "we don't want them to come out here and find us, do we?"

Just as those words were uttered out of her mouth, Jackie stepped back and looked at her and stepped onto a weakened board. It cracked under the weight of her feet.

I grabbed her by the shoulder, or I think she would have twisted her ankle. It went right through the hole, but I hauled her away from it in the nick of time.

But more than afraid of her hurting hers If, I guess, was the fear that someone inside might have heard us.

Of course that is exactly what happened. Wouldn't you know it? I was scared out of my wits and Jackie was shaking pretty bad. Mazie was white as a sheet.

"Fuck, Yolande," Jackie said, a pained expression crossing her face, "those guys in there heard us. Now what are we gonna do?"

"I don't know," I heard Mazie hiss, "but I'm scared. They got whips in there."

True enough. And just as we headed off for the great unknown, I felt someone sneaking up behind me.

I cringed. But sure enough, it was one of those male dominants with his shirt off and his muscles bulging.

"Stop, who goes there," he shouted, running after us.

Wouldn't you know he'd say something like that? To scare us even more probably.

I remember that I had my arm sort of around Jackie, helping her along, cause I suppose I thought that she had hurt herself when her foot went through that floor board.

Also, I vaguely remember that Mazie was alongside of us, then a little to the front. And then, for some reason which I still do not even pretend to understand, I dropped back a little.

Now honestly, Doctor, we did have a good head start on that guy. We could have outrun him in a fair fight. He was bigger and heavier, but we were lighter and we were a ways out in front of him. Also, he had on heavy hob nail boots and they made him slower, still.

"Come on, Yolande," I heard one of them say, a bit out in front of me. "Hurry."

I could make out that they were in front of me and calling me to come back, but my feet felt frozen. Frozen to the spot.

I know it's odd, Doctor, but that's what happened. I just couldn't seem to get the lead out. You would think that Jackie, with a bad ankle, might be the one to succumb, but it was me.

And, of course, I was snatched up by that cruel male dominant and hauled back to the room over the garage.

Yes, I was dragged before the assembled guests. It was shameful. Shocking, really.

I was made to tear my clothes off and stand in front of all of them naked while they tied me up and took turns torturing me. It wasn't very pretty.

I did find myself completely terrified at several points. But never, never did I find any of the goings-on the least bit dull.

And, up to that time, I had always found school dull. Dr. Ignatius recognized me, of course, and she set out to make me forget that I had seen or heard anything that night that could be used against me.

She took special precautions in that area, Doctor. She made me her personal slave just to make sure that I didn't rat on her. I don't know who I would have told, though. I guess I would have told my parents. Dr. Ignatius was the head of the school, so I couldn't go above her, but if I had told my parents, they would have pulled me out of school.

I most certainly didn't want that. I wanted to stay and be Dr. Ignatius's pet. I called her Mistress. Mistress Iggy, when she allowed it.

I got tied up so good that night my clit stayed hard for a week. The men and most of the women took turns teasing me.

I was fucked with the brunt end of a big bullwhip, thrust up inside my glowing, hot ember cunt cheeks by none other than the good Dr. Ignatius herself.

Several of the men helped to hog-tie me to some parallel bars. And then. Mistress Iggy really went to work on me. She got out a pair of riding crops and started in worrying my thighs with them.

That ached. But I was by this time, so curious about how it felt to have bodily discipline administered to me, that I could hardly help myself from getting hot and bothered by what was going on there.

"You little slut," she railed at me, "you dare to penetrate my domicile and snoop around my house."

Well, I had dared. And it looked like I was paying the consequences for it.

Consequences that really weren't so bad after all. When you come right down to it. I sort of liked getting that riding crop, both of those riding crops, slapped along my thighs and over my high, proud titties.

And the guys who assisted her really knew how to swing a cat o' nine tails.

My legs were both tied down at the thighs and manacled at the ankles across the parallel bar beams. There wasn't much I could do. I couldn't go anywhere. I had my own bra stuffed into my mouth.

But I didn't really want to go anywhere either. I was quite content where I was. To be there, exposed raw and naked in front of all those people. To receive their delirious shows of affection through the thong end of a whip.

That is what I truly longed for, I suppose. And that is what my dear Mistress Iggy has been giving me ever since.

Yes, Doctor. I am still her slave. Her pet, I suppose you'd call it. After graduation from Treatmor at eighteen, I moved in with her.

We have nice parties together and a good life. I'm happy. Often, I let her guests tie me up, or Iggy makes me serve them when I'm gagged and my ankles are tied together so tightly I can barely walk.

It's tricky, but I am her devoted slave and wouldn't try and do anything to harm her. She's getting on in years now. But she still a dynamic dominatrix.

And today, even as I sit here, I am looking forward to going back to the house and serving her tea in bed. Then, later tonight, there'll be a party. Perhaps for some friends.

Maybe a few teachers will drop in. I will most likely end up getting tied and bound to something or other. But I love it.

I think I should add here, before closing, that my parents have written me out of their will and disowned me completely.

Well, I couldn't be happier. I don't need their money. I don't need anything except to serve my beauteous mistress as she pleases. My folks weren't at all happy about finding out that I lived with the headmistress of a girls' school for which they had been paying an outrageously high tuition for the last several years.

r .

- - ..

But what could they do? I was eighteen before they discovered us together. I was careful about that. And they can just stew in their own juice for all I care.

I've got what I want, and I'm not giving it up for anything. Do you hear? I don't want to come back here. My mother talked me into it. She thinks there might be some hope. She's still trying to win me back to the family fold. My father is less than enthusiastic about my chances.

Oh, who cares? I've got to be going. Iggy needs me. And I need her, don't I, Doctor? Wouldn't you say it's just about an ideal relationship? A perfect balance?

I wouldn't say that at all. I think if I were going to accuse Yolande of anything, and I am careful not to accuse lightly, I would accuse her of having narrowed vision.

She doesn't seem to be able to see very far to either side of her path. The path she has chosen to take, I mean. She is Dr. Ignatius's slave or pet or whatever you might choose to call it.

The woman uses her to attract customers or guests or whatever they are. It doesn't make a bit of difference. The point is that the girl hasn't experienced enough of the world yet to decide if she really and truly wants to be a submissive the rest of her life.

She is acting out of malice toward her parents. They neglected her in her early childhood, boarded her out to a fancy girls' school, and now she is making them pay the consequences.

I don't think they should have left her to herself so young. That is perhaps a tragic oversight of many people who have money. But she can't spend the rest of her life plotting a course of vendetta against them at the expense of her own individuality.

If she truly wants to be a submissive slave for this woman, I see no real harm in that. But she hasn't discovered enough of life to know. She was isolated as a child, cut off from the rest of the populus in boarding school, and now, she is cut off again, as the slave of this powerful dominatrix.

I know Dr. Ignatius is a woman of unusual sexual appetites, but I believe she is, at core, a learned and responsible woman. I have made an appointment to speak to her regarding Yolande.

I will ask that she let the girl go, perhaps for a summer, to discover a little of life on the outside. If after this experience, she still wants to go back to her and devote herself entirely to her mistress, then I shall not discourage it.

I have also made an appointment to see Yolande's parents. I want to talk to them about their daughter. They may not understand her motivations for turning her back on them. I want to make them see how and why the girl acted as she did, and that their offspring is not an ogre, a freak, an aberration, but a human being with needs.

---------------------

KATRINA V.

When Katrina V. visited my office early one morning, I was not surprised to learn that she was a model for a living. She looked beautiful enough to be a film star.

There was something haunting about her. Something slightly tragic. Yet that warm smile, that radiant glow of her skin, her face, her smile, all those added up to a stunning girl.

Her figure was a blessing. She was nearly six foot tall and her shoulders were set in a perfect fashion model proximity. Her breasts were full and round and perfectly in keeping with the rest of her.

And she had long, shapely legs, which she had poured into a tight pair of designer jeans.

I guessed her age wrongly, though I don't often miss. She was just entirely too sure and shapely for me to believe that she was only seventeen.

Suddenly, when she seated herself on the sofa and threw her formidably beauteous face into full profile, I recognized her. She was the current model for the Coolidge jeans and I had seen that luscious body, scantily clad in little else but a pair of Coolidges across countless magazine pages and on numerous billboards across the country.

Yes, Doctor, I am Katrina. The top teenage model in the country at the moment. I suppose a lot of people would envy me. And most of the ones I meet would like to know a lot about my life.

It isn't nearly as glamorous as my publicity agents and press people make it out to be. There are so many modelling sessions and they all take place early in the morning.

Here it is, only nine o'clock, and I've put in practically four hours of posing already. I'm the new poster girl for Brisk shampoo. Yes, I am a popular figure right now.

But my life is a bit sad. I feel overworked, jaded, like I need a vacation. But mother won't hear of it. She makes me get up every morning at, would you believe, quarter to four? Then, I go jogging for almost an hour.

She drives a car along next to me, to make sure I don't flake off and go for a nap in the park bushes or something. What a nudge!!!

Well, where do I begin? I mean what can I tell you about myself that you haven't already read in the papers? The gossip columns mostly. Though most of the junk they print in there isn't even true. Lies, mostly. Just complete fabrications.

I'll try to give you a better picture of myself. I was born into a family that was already splitting up when I came along. Mother was ambitious. But beyond that, she was pushy.

I think she started pushing me out of the birth canal and she hasn't stopped since. Her and Dad disagreed violently about me ever since I can remember "You're not letting her grow up, Leni," he would say to her, "she's got to have a childhood. You're pushing her before she even has a chance to know who she is."

He was totally against my modelling career, right from the start. I started it at about age one. Yes, I did a lot of modelling for baby ads. Powder, diapers, that sort of thing.

Most of them were nude shots from the waist up, but I was only a tyke then, so I guess it was all right.

Mother had been a model herself, but she gave it up to marry Dad and have a family. Instead, she had me and big, horrendous whopper of a divorce. Shit, what the two of them went through before the final settlement.

Arguments, fights, drunken bouts. Mother was drinking a lot by the time I was three. I had begun to pose for little girl dress ads then. Some of them were underwear ads, and I suppose people found them somewhat provocative.

Yes, I did a bit of flashing my body even in those early ads. I realize that since I have become famous, people are saving them now. They hope they will be collector's items someday. Maybe they will be, but all that has very little to do with me.

I have to live my life according to how I see fit. And I see that if I don't get a few things straightened out about myself, I'm going to be in a real pickle before I'm eighteen.

My childhood wasn't at all normal, but neither was Liz Taylor's, whom I'm said to resemble.

I remember the first night we had an agent over. One my mother had been trying to interest in me at the time. She kept telling him I was a natural for the movies. He was big business, this guy. A big con man if you ask me.

But he did get me work. It was a lot of work getting him to our house, too. He came one night after my mother had made a lot of preparations. Fussed over the dinner for days, actually.

Called in a caterer at the last minute because she didn't trust any of the recipes in her nouvelle cuisine book. Mother did look nice that night. She had on an especially revealing chiffon dress and her ample tits were stuck up in it like bound tomatoes. Big ones.

I was eight at the time. And I had spent all eight of those years with older people. Adults. I wasn't allowed to play with kids my own age because it was felt that I would maybe fall down and skin my knee and that would be no good for the sun tan oil ads. Yes, I was the little nude girl on the beach getting her bathing suit bottom pulled off by that playful little dog. And I needed my knees for that one. Not to mention all my other assets.

"Leni," I said, tucking my form-fitting little blouse into my black slinky skirt, "are you sure this is what you want me to wear?"

I didn't really think too much about what she picked out for me. They were all suggestive outfits. Especially when we were expecting an agent or some other kind of fancy schmantzy company.

Mother fussed over my clothes a lot.

"You've got to look sexy," she said, "our career depends on it."

She always referred to my career as 'our career' but I can't say that that was wrong. She had such a firm hand in shaping it, that I guess she just never separated the two of us that much.

"Henri!!!" she said, swinging the front door wide open and greeting the man with a wide smile. She pronounced his name the French way, though he isn't French and doesn't pronounce it that way.

"Dear, dear, Leni," the big man said. I mean he was big. Bigger than a horse. He had been a Mr. Universe or something like that at one time, before he had gone into being an agent.

He had made a lot of Italian spectacular movies in which he had played Hercules and Atlas and all those Greek gods with the strength of a twenty mule team and the brains of one, too.

But he was charming. And he had a position. He was agenting a lot of big stars just then.

"And here's Katrina," he said, sweeping me up off my feet and hugging me, "all dressed up like a little siren," he added.

I suppose I was. I was fully made up, too. Mother saw to that. She made me up herself in heavy, alluring eye make up and lots of shadow and lipstick.

I wore some expensive jewelry that night, too. And, I guess, overall, I looked like a woman. But the man was intrigued that I was only eight years old.

"What do you think of my little girl, now?" Mother said, after giggling over a glass of champagne at the dining room table.

Dinner was just over and Henri gave out with a loud belch. He had certainly put on a lot of weight since I saw him in those Italian spectacles on TV.

"Isn't she wonderful?" Mother cooed, hiccoughing a little herself and grinning lovingly at the big, fat mountain sitting across from her.

"She definitely has potential," Henri said, smiling politely at me.

What an oily number he was, now that I look back on it. He sure was in it to make a buck for himself. I'm sorry we ever trusted him. He only wanted to use me. But I didn't know it that day.

I was just doing what Mother wanted me to. And, I suppose, I had stars in my eyes.

"How about her in the new remake of 'Madame X', do you think?" Mother urged, arching her eyebrow at the man seductively.

"Possibly she's a bit too young for that role," Henri said, patting his fat face with the linen napkin.

"What about the movie on the life of Queen Victoria I hear is coming out soon? She's young, but she's so versatile. She could play Queen Vickie from childhood all the way up until her death."

"It's an interesting angle," the man said, eyeing me hotly.

I could see that's what he was doing. He reached across the table and chucked me under the chin.

"Such a lovely face," he said, "like a Madonna."

"Yes," Mother replied, "and she is some kind of trooper, let me tell you. She works eighteen hours a day sometimes and never even gets tired."

"I'm sure she's a pro," the man said, winking at me, "aren't you, Katrina?"

I lifted my eyes and shot him a smile, the way I would do for somebody if he were photographing me in a bikini bathing suit for a travel poster.

"I may have a role in mind for her," the man allowed, hinting like mad at both of us that there was something hot on the horizon.

"Oh, do tell," Mother said, her eagerness showing in every pore.

"Something the studio is keeping under wraps at the moment, but I know it's a helluva good property. A starring role for your daughter is a clear possibility as I see it now."

"How exciting," Mother went on. She poured herself another glass of champagne and continued to get slightly more looped as they continued discussing my career.

"Of course, you know how Hollywood is these days," the man said, chomping down on the thickest, brownest, fattest cigar I have ever seen, "everything has to be sexy, sexy, sexy, or it's bad box office."

"Yes," Mother replied, "I know how it is. To sell a ticket, you've got to show it all."

"I'm glad you understand, Leni," the big oaf replied, "because as a talent agent, I'm in an excellent position to make the choice of starring roles for the individual young actress I see fit. And as I see fit now, your daughter is a keen contender. But there are some rather strenuous demands in this particular role."

"Such as?" Mother said, sitting up eagerly.

"I mentioned sex," he went on, lighting his night stick of a cigar, "there would be several explicit sexual scenes in this film. To sell tickets, you understand, and your daughter would figure in most of them."

"Katrina is an experienced model and actress," Mother chirped, swilling another mouthful of the bubbly, "she can handle it."

"Don't be so sure," the man said, "some sexual scenes are more demanding than others."

"What sort of sex scene is it?" I piped up.

"Ah," Henri intoned, "a bright young lady you've got there."

He flicked his ashes into the centerpiece and went on.

"It's a tricky scene in that it involves a younger girl and an older man."

"One about your age?" I said. Shit, I wished I had learned to keep my mouth shut at that age. But I never had. Nobody ever really taught me.

Another thing nobody ever really taught me about was sex. I suppose it was up to my mother and we were always so busy with modelling appointments and jogging, and other stuff. But she never did mention a thing to me about it. She would just accompany me to these appointments and tell me to take off my clothes.

Sometimes, I would get sort of strange, warmish feelings between my legs when the makeup man would body paint me up there. It tickled a bit, but that's about all.

Well, Doctor, to make a painful experience a whole lot shorter, Henri and Mother sat right there and discussed the sex scene with each other. Henri insisted that it was real rough and demanding. Mother insisted I could do it.

Finally, their arguing came to a peak when Mother broke in.

"Oh, Henri!!!!" she said, "if you don't think she can handle it, why not audition her here and now for the part. I tell you, she can handle it."

"That is an idea," the big house replied, "I would consider that. Yes, siree."

With that, the two of them stood up, though Mother needed to be helped up, and we all three went upstairs to Mother's bedroom. Usually, I wasn't allowed in there, but tonight I was.

"The scene takes place in a bedroom similar to this one," the man said, "the older man is asleep and the young girl comes in and... well, I hope you won't mind crude language, Leni, but she seduces him."

"Yes," Mother said, all ears, "then what?"

"What do you mean?" Henri replied, "I told you she seduces him. Isn't that enough?"

"Well, if that's all it is," Mother said, breathing a little easier, I'm sure Katrina can handle it. She's a pro, like I said."

"I've been modelling since I was one," I piped up.

"Now let's rehearse this scene," Henri said.

who seemed to be no longer listening to me. His mind had flown to other pursuits.

"She'll do wonderfully, you'll see," Mother chimed in.

"I am asleep. You are outside the door. Remember, you must come in and try and seduce me as soon as you hear my snore. That's your signal."

Now, Doctor, I had had quite a few acting lessons and classes and workshops and so on. So, I thought I'd ask Henri a very important question.

"Excuse me," I said, pulling on the big man's coat sleeve, "but what's my motivation for this scene?"

Henri stared at me and arched one eyebrow a little oddly. Mother grabbed me suddenly and pulled me off to one side.

"I think I can handle this Henri," she said, sweeping me off my feet and pressing her lips into my ears, "your motivation is to get this part, Katrina," she snapped feverishly. Sure enough, after a few minutes, I heard Henri. Shit, it sounded like a buzz saw working on a redwood tree. So, I unbuttoned the top six or eight buttons on my blouse and stuck my budding little knockers out and walked in there.

Well, I had had some acting classes by then. "Oooooooh," I said, seeing the giant lying there like a mountain ridge on the bed, "I see master has fallen asleep. I'll just sneak up here and seduce him." He kept snoring.

Mother was wringing her handkerchief so hard her nails were whiter than it was.

"Guess I better get undressed first," I said, totally innocent. I might add here, Doc, that I also said that with total belief. I am one good little actress, as my fans will attest.

I slipped out of my tight skirt and wiggled out of my half-slip. I probably didn't even need to take the blouse off, but I did. And I took my panties off, too.

I'm pretty sure that about that time, I saw old Henri playing possum. He had one eye kind of half opened and he was looking at me. That's when I noticed the big bulge in his pants. It was a big bulge. He was a big man, but he had a big bulge, even figuring the proportions.

Now, Doctor, I knew nothing whatsoever about seducing a man. I just took my clothes off because I had to do that for all my photography sessions.

I was used to prancing around naked by this time and showing it all.

But Henri had other ideas.

"Unzip my pants and seduce me," he whispered, even though he was supposed to be asleep.

I climbed up and found his zipper tab. I lowered it real careful, so as I wouldn't wake him again, since I had already woken him once.

It crunched down over his giant bulge and when I got it all the way down, I fumbled inside for something to let out. Imagine, Doctor, I had no idea what I was unleashing at that point.

I found a big, long pulsating snake down in there. I was surprised. I reached down and hauled it out and held it up for my mother to see.

"Yes, yes," she said, trying to forget that the thing was a man's prick, which I had sort of started to figure out by then.

I held up the hooded serpent and examined it in the dim bedroom light. It was long, very hard, and bald on the head. Also, rounded and with big, serpentine veins all over the pole. They were throbbing like sixty.

I saw two hairy big orbs sort of hunching up against his man pole then and I couldn't help but tweak them a few times.

That seemed to send Henri into a dither.

"Oooooh," he said, "you certainly have nice hands, child."

And this from a man who was supposed to be asleep.

Well, I didn't know what to do then. I just held on for dear life waiting for instructions.

"Why don't you give it a little kiss?" Mother suggested, "make it even harder."

"Why don't you just stroke it a while," Henri said, from out of his dead sleep. I had begun to think they were both big fakers.

"I should kiss this thing?" I said, wondering how the hell I was gonna wrap my lips around anything so monstrously big.

"You should," Mother said, from her cheering section, "if we want to get that part."

Her career, again, right?

I got up to where I could sort of squat down over one of his monstrously big thighs and I held the hard, pounding thing with both of my little hands.

I tried to stick my tongue out and touch it, but just as I did, a big oily bubble gurgled up in the slit on the dome of it. I thought that would be real nice to touch, so I did.

It was kind of tacky and not unpleasant. I put some in my mouth and it tasted okay. Nothing unusual. So, I bent my lips down there and gave it a real loud smack.

That's about the time the thing between my legs started to act up. Talk about an audition! I was giving myself one right in my little hot, hairless cunt.

"Such a marvelous pussy," Henri was saying, stroking my cunt lips with his bulbous big fingers.

I did like the way he did that. He even stuck one of them inside and reamed out some cunt honey with it. His fingers were the size of hot dogs, so I did feel it when he did that.

"Yikes!!!!!" I said, jumping up a little and then coming back down on it.

I liked the way it felt, but I sure was getting hot in there. I wondered if he'd notice.

"You're just on fire down in there, aren't you?" Henri said.

He noticed.

"Feels kinda hot what I'm holding, too," I replied, anxiously.

His snake pole had begun to shimmer and throb real hard in my hand. That's when I started to work my hands up and down his hard, shining pole. I tried, really hard, too, to get my fingers to clasp, but they couldn't quite make it. His dick was just too fat and hard and big around.

I worked both my hands up and down the full length of his stiff pecker log as best I could.

It sure was a job and a half. Whew! I was sweating by the time I'd done it a few times.

"Now let's see that thing go into your mouth," the man said, "I want it to sink down in that tight, honey little mouth of yours."

I bent over and really tried my damnedest to get that thing to fit in there, but it was no good. I just couldn't wrap my lips around it. It was too big. It wouldn't stop throbbing either. The veins were pulsating faster and faster.

Harder and harder. They beat against my hand. I opened my mouth real wide, wider even than I did for the dentist, but all I could manage was a little bit of the head and slit.

"Here," Mother said, shoving me out of the way, "let me do it. You sit right here and play with his balls."

I did. I always did what she told me.

I sat right there and massaged his hairy, hard balls while Mother took his big, throbbing pole down into her mouth. Apparently she'd either been practicing, or her mouth was just that much bigger all the way around.

I watched as the fleshy big pole disappeared into her wet, pink mouth cavity. I had wanted to try and eat it, but I had failed. I was beginning to feel real bad, like maybe I hadn't passed the audition, but I stuck to kneading the guy's balls as best I could.

They were a pleasure to work with. So responsive and hot and hard.

Mother was going round and round over this guy's man schlong by now. She would wind her head first to one side, then to another. And it always disappeared and came out, disappeared and popped back out again.

Then, she set to work gobbling the whole log all at once. That was fascinating. She just let it shoot down inside her mouth and I could see it, the shape of his log, I mean, down inside her throat. There was a long, thick solid bulge in her throat.

That got me hot as a fire sale. I sat there and let Henri finger my pussy till I thought I would burst into flames.

He stuck his finger up, then whirled it around a bit, then drew it out. His finger was covered with my clear cunt honey. Wow! I learned to love the sight of that just then.

He dug it into me again and I heard him moan real low. My mother had eaten his cock down to the base now. I don't know what was going on in his mind, but I know he was enjoying himself.

"Oh, my God," he said, tossing his hips around and threatening to break the bed.

He shot. He must have. I know my mother pulled off a little and grabbed me by the shoulders. She stuck my head down to where she was pulling her mouth off and I saw and felt a hot, thick spray of come rush out of the end of the man's pecker wood.

I got it square in the face. Good thing I had my eyes shut. It sure felt funny, but okay, really. And I got to lick a little off my face.

That was tasty.

Mother licked some of it off, too.

The man's dick was really hard still, so Mother had to jerk him off with her hands a little and I had to hold onto his balls while she did. But we did get him off a second time.

I remember that quite clearly, since he shot his jism all over my cunt this time. Mother licked it off, every ounce of that delicious cream.

Well, Doctor, that was quite a night. I didn't get the part, if there was a part, but I did learn a lot about sex. A whole lot.

And, I learned what a value men put on it. I wasn't so easily sold on the idea the second time around.

That didn't happen until my tenth birthday. Mother was drinking a lot that day. I had a party. Lots of people. Mostly her friends. There wasn't anyone under the age of thirty there, I'm pretty sure: But there was a very, very famous photographer there. I won't mention his name, because you might know him. He's photographed some of the top stars in Hollywood and in New York.

He was about the youngest guy there. I found him upstairs, just before I went to bed. He was sort of hanging off the railing. I was used to seeing Mother hang off the railing, so I guess I didn't think too much of it.

"You're cute," he said, in a sort of drunken voice.

I was used to drunken voices by now, too.

"And you're drunk," I said back to him, swaying my hips around a bit. I don't mind teasing guys when they're drunk, cause most of them can't do a damn thing when they are.

"And you're cute," the guy shot back.

"And tomorrow you'll be sober," I said, acting real smart now, "but I'll be cute for the rest of my life."

The guy looked at me kinda funny. He cocked his head to one side and grabbed me around the neck, cuffing me to his body.

"Don't count on it, Hot Cakes," he said, "beauty fades."

"Not if I keep my current contract with Rayve On," I said, "I'll have cosmetics coming into this house by the truckload for the rest of my life."

"Oh, cut out the crap," he said, finally, "you're too young to sound like such a smart-mouthed adult. You're too natural for this environment. I can't see you playing all these Hollywood games they've got you doing."

By that time, I had made a couple of movies in Hollywood. They were smallish parts, but I had gotten a lot of attention. Particularly for one called "Pretty Lazy". It was about a madame in a brothel who spent most of her time in bed. I was her visiting nurse. I had a nude scene in it. Oh, you saw it!!!!!

Well, this guy, this photographer, who happened to be the youngest guy at that particular party, and probably one of the youngest guys I had seen around, really had my attention right from the start. He was handsome, and he had a mighty big camera.

Yes, he carried one around his neck, even when he was drunk. I was impressed.

"Why don't you let me capture you the way you really are," he said, suddenly, "not as the phonies you have portrayed on the screen. Not the way this trashy New York jet set crowd sees you. But the real you. The one that I sense comes from deep, deep down inside you. The real essence of your natural beauty and girlishness. That's what I want to capture."

"And how do you intend to capture that?" I wanted to know.

"With this," he said, patting his camera.

"How?" I said, "in what situation?"

"How about you standing up masturbating in a bathtub, all wringing wet and squiggly hot?"

Well, Doctor, that may have been the real me, but I doubted it. Anyway, I don't see how this guy got the nerve! I mean, I was a star by then. I didn't need any scuzzy photographer asking me questions.

Or making insidious remarks about my character.

Then he told me the people he had photographed. Some mighty big names, I do want to tell you. The biggest.

And he was cute. I had never taken off my clothes and posed for someone that cute. I sure liked what he had on, too. A real hot, tight pair of designer suede jeans and a suede coat and slicked back hair and green eyes. A real hot looking guy.

I had done quite a little developing since my last little sexual exploit. Doctor. I have matured quite quickly, as you can see, but that was an especially bumper crop year. My pubic hair had started to come in and my tits had really begun to sprout.

They were especially perky that night. I had on a tight, hot-looking see-through blouse and a real tight pair of black satin pants. No underwear, I might add. Well, Mother doesn't want me wearing it. She says it hides my natural charms.

Anyway, before I could turn around, this guy was staggering into the bathroom and turning on the hot water.

We have a real neat bathroom, Doctor, with an Arabian bathtub in it. I sure love to sit in there and diddle with my clit for about an hour or two while I pretend to be taking a bath.

Well, this guy, whose name was Oren, was really hot to tune up his camera. He really wanted me in those poses and he wanted me now.

I admit I was eager to show him what I could do in the tub. I had never had the chance to show anybody else.

I walked in there after him and for a fleeting moment, tried to talk him out of it.

"Oren," I pleaded, "don't you think it might be more fun if you took some shots of me outside the church or going to visit a museum? Why in the tub?"

"Because you are going to be the sex symbol of the decade, sweetie," he said, adjusting the lights, "and I want to get a chance to shoot you before all the other hounds in the business do it."

Ha! That man was one of the biggest hounds of them all. He was just using me for what he could get out of it, but I didn't know that then. I thought he was a serious photographer.

Which he was. But he was also serious photographer. The pictures that came out of that session would prove it.

I am kinda proud of those shots, Doc. I guess they have done for me what that calendar shot did for that blonde actress who died so tragically out in Hollywood.

Anyway, I got undressed. It didn't take long, because I wasn't wearing very much.

And I prepared to rollick and frolic in the tub for Oren. He had hauled all the lights from the second floor in there by the time I had my clothes off.

It was strange to see all those lights flooding the place and I was glad we had a guest bathroom on the main floor for the rest of the company.

The party was still raging when I climbed into that tub and got myself all lathered up.

"Let me put some make up on you," Oren said, digging into the dresser on the far side of the bathroom.

It was where Mother kept a lot of her makeup and he was determined to make me look as sexy and slinky as he could. He fairly shoveled that stuff on with a trowel.

I couldn't believe all the eye shadow he was putting on me.

"There," he said, when he was finally done, "look at that!"

I stood up and looked in the mirror to see what he had done. Some of the bubble bath from the water was still clinging to my body. My skin was bright red where the water had been soaking it.

"Wow!" I said, staring at myself in the mirror, "I look like I'm about twenty or twenty-one."

I did look old. And I did look gorgeous. That I could not deny.

"You are the sexiest, hottest little model I've ever shot," the photographer said, snapping his camera like mad.

I never will understand how such a drunk could take such good pictures.

But he certainly did. And they were all over the pages of "Playhouse" magazine. Oh, you saw them, did you. Doctor? Well, you and everybody else in the world.

Anyway, he had those shots of me acting real grownup, standing there in that tub and looking real cutsie and hot.

He made me stick my tits out and purse my lips together like I was a pin-up girl for a World War II poster ad campaign or something.

I wouldn't have minded that so much, but then he said he wanted some special shots. Shots of me masturbating.

He promised he wouldn't show them to anybody else. I believed him by that time. He had won my confidence, by being able to hold that camera stock still when he himself was bobbing and weaving drunk.

So, I let the water out of the tub and sat back down in it and stuck my fingers up inside my pussy and started really going to down.

He brought the camera real close to me and zeroed in right square on my pussy. I lay back and started to moan.

It sure felt good having those fingers up inside my pussy. And it was nice having that camera track all my moves as well. I loved it. I have never been shy, Doctor. Oren spotted that.

He knew I was a hot, nubile little number and bound to be a ox office hit and he took advantage of me right there. Right there in my very own bathroom.

First, I got my fingers all wet and soapy and then I spread my legs out over the ledge of the tub. I gave him a bird's eye view of my pussy snatch, Doctor. One I am sure he, nor the millions of readers of "Playhouse" will never forget.

I could hear my fingers squish in and out of my sweet little glistening twat as I plied them in and then out.

I loved to hear that sound, Doctor, as you may know. I fell in love with my snatch many years earlier, and I really dug to play with myself. I kept pumping my fingers in and out, circling them round and round and reaming out my beautiful, bold cunt hole with my overeager, hot, nubile little nymphet fingers.

I also managed to find the other orifice of my anus with my free hand. I really went to town then, plugging my pussy and my bung hole at the same time.

"Let me get a close up of that," Oren said, aiming the camera at my ass.

He did. In living color. Oh, Doctor, I shudder to think how awful it was of me to have posed like that at such a young age.

And to think that once "Playhouse" got a hold of those shots, how they exploited me. After that, they even tried to get an interview with me, but when Mother insisted that she do the talking, the spoiled sports backed out of it.

I ask you, Doctor, does it pay to be a pretty nymphet in this day and age? Everywhere I look, I see greedy press agents, greedy producers, greedy editors and reporters. And photographers. Oren made a mint on me that evening.

Oh, how could I ever have let my snatch go so cheap? He only gave me twenty- five dollars for that session. When Mother found out, she hit the roof, until he shelled out another twenty-five for her.

Oh, there were legal battles about that, and I know you read about many of them in the paper. They were just a blur to me. Some of them are still going on.

It sure isn't a great way to grow up and become a young lady. And Mother has tried.

Finishing schools, private camps, the whole bit.

But always, always, always there are those unscrupulous men who would try to use me for my irresistible teenage nymphet body.

Like Oren did. Oh, Doctor, this part really hurts to reveal, but once I got my finger up my pussy and another one up my ass, I couldn't stop. I just had to have it all. I shoved two, then three, then four fingers into my pussy and that many into my ass and plugged up both holes. I even called to Oren, begged him to put his camera down and come join me while I sucked his dick.

It seems that once I get something in two holes, I just have to get something in the final one. And I was almost there, so I was getting very breathy just anticipating it.

"Come on," I said to Oren, "let's do it. Do it. Do it."

He finally walked over to the side of the tub and unzipped his pants, and man oh, man, what a pecker he had on him! The size of a rolled up newspaper. I couldn't believe how hard and throbbing it was that night.

I let him stick it right into my mouth and I licked it like a huge triple dip ice cream cone for a while. I flicked my tongue all over and up and around and inside the little slit. I worked my tongue under the rim and gave it a good and thorough wetting down.

I loved poking my pink tongue all around the head and the shaft of his massive man prick. I really did. And I suppose it showed in the prints, too.

Yes, Doctor. That photographer had tricked me good. He had left that camera on while we were making it. I suppose he had an automatic switch on it or something.

He left it one and I got caught with his pants down!

I felt so good during the whole thing. Like I really trusted him. He wasn't hurting me the whole time we did it together. He just stuck his man log down my throat and yanked it out a few times and I just sat there and sucked the thing till I got blue in the face.

"You sure can blow a man's prick, kid," he said, to me, patting me on the hair and grabbing me by the shoulders, "you'll go far in this business."

With that, he grabbed me around the shoulders and forced me back and forth and up and down his giant cock stick harder and harder a d faster and faster and so fucking fast I could hardly catch my breath.

He was literally fucking my mouth with his giant stick cock.

I felt my eyes fall back into my head. I could hardly breathe. And the whole time, he plugged my mouth and I was plugging my cunt and my ass hole and the camera was recording all that stuff.

Wow! I couldn't believe it when he finally did come. He came real hard, too, and I know cause I got it all down my throat. Like a white tornado in my mouth.

The stuff just swirled all around and tickled my tonsils and flowed down, down my throat and I, of course, being a perfectly good little girl, swallowed every ounce of the delicious come cream.

"Let's get you off now," Oren said, backing up to the camera and leaving his still rock hard dick right where it was so that I could get some visual stimulation as I continued to whack my cunt off and my ass into a wild, tandem orgasm.

Double whammy, as it's known in "Playhouse."

"Oh, shiiiiiiitttt," I said aloud as I threw my long, damp hair back and came like crazy.

"Oh, fuck," Oren said, as he snapped away.

I think he knew he was getting a good thing photographing me like that in the privacy of my own home. It looked real. It didn't look faked.

It was real. It wasn't faked. Only the readers didn't know that. They thought it was faked to look real. Little did they know, it was real to look faked.

Oh, Doctor, what do you think I should do? I've got a new movie coming up and Mother is so angry with me for having posed naked like that without signing a contract that would have guaranteed me and her exclusive rights to those pictures after they were taken.

I am so unhappy today. I know I am the idol of millions, but my personal life is a mess. Can you help me? I wonder.

Katrina is a difficult blend of feisty girlishness and womanly attitudes. She is not naive about the business she is in. She is in the business of exploiting herself for profit. And so is her mother.

They both know very well what they are doing. At least, that's my end of it.

But there is something tragically wrong here. Katrina trusted her mother when she was very young. Her mother used her to make a buck. Now she has to pay the consequences. She is still technically responsible for Katrina, since Katrina is still under eighteen.

I have plans to counsel the mother. I think I might make better headway there. She, like the other parents in this collection of cases, should have told her daughter more about sex, counseled her on it. Instead, she let her drift into big trouble by keeping her so in the dark.

She wanted her innocence for herself... to make a profit on it. But instead, it worked against her and her daughter, because in her blissful ignorance, Katrina stepped into the hands of ruthless men.

I don't know if I can be so understanding of her mother as I have been of her. Perhaps I will not be able to counsel her at all. But I must try. For Katrina's sake. I must try.

---------------------

ERNESTINE

Ernestine breezed into my office in the middle of the day. She was a secretary for a detective agency. A licensed, legitimate agency and one with a fairly good reputation, as I later discovered.

It was not surprising then, for me to discover that Ernestine was also a respectable girl. She looked it, I must say.

She was of medium height, but excellently proportioned and with curling streaky blonde ringlets all over her head. She was dressed rather conservatively, in a grey tweed suit, but her figure wasn't conservative.

It was ample, both in the breasts and hips.

The girl was disarmingly well-built. She confessed to me that she thought she might have gotten the job based on her physical qualifications, since she did only mediocre work in the three year secretarial school she attended.

But then, things always came easily to her, so she told me. And that luscious body and adorable face of hers had always been there to assist her in getting them.

Yet, there was a tragic note somewhere within her. Once struck, the note turned to be a sour reminder that things are not always what they seem.

Guess you can tell from looking at me. Doctor, that I've never had any trouble with men. Almost true!

I usually get what I want out of them. Light teasing. That's my ticket. I'm what you call a light teaser. No, I don't mean that I just do it in the daylight. I can do it at any hour of the day.

But I just sort of play around with a guy to get what I want. Let me tell you about something I did when I was a kid.

I got called to the principal's office one day in the sixth grade. I was no whiz in school, see. I used to copy my Math assignments from the guy behind me. I teased him into letting me see his paper by blowing down his back and rubbing up against him during volleyball serves on the playground.

I knew right where to rub. Which I will get to in a minute. But before that, I must tell you how I always got my way with men.

My principal, Mr. Hiram, was an old man. Real old. I suppose he was on his way out of the school at that point, only a few years before retirement left to go.

Unfortunately, I got him expelled first. Well, he threatened to have me expelled and that would have made my mother and stepfather furious with me. I had to do something, didn't I?

I decided to attack first and ask questions later. Here's how it happened.

I got caught in the coat closet with a boy. We were just lightly petting. Nothing heavy. Remember, I said I was into light teasing? Well, that's what we were doing.

It was Jimmy Rolfson and he was a Geography whiz. I wasn't so hot in that subject, either. But I made a promise to Jimmy that he could lick the inside of my throat and all around inside my blouse collar if I could peek at his homework.

Well, I was in the middle of letting him carry out his part of the bargain when Miss Belloit caught us. She was our sixth grade teacher and I swear that woman was a nun. She didn't wear a habit, but she was one anyway. The Order of the Sisters of Dry Cunt or something like that.

She was a bad sport about the whole thing. She caught us playing around and she blamed me for the whole thing! Women are always blaming me for playing around with guys.

I can't help it if they want to do it and I need something. It's a fair exchange if you ask me. She didn't ask me.

She stormed into that coat closet and began the wildest, most crazed tirade against the two of us.

"Ernestine!" she shouted, as if there was only one of us doing the dirty act, "how dare you take liberties like this in my own classroom!!!!!"

In the first place, it wasn't her classroom. It was the coat closet and as far as I know, that's mutual property. And in the second, I wasn't taking anything. I'm not a thief and I never have been.

"I'm sorry, Miss Belloit," Jimmy piped up.

Shit, what the hell did he have to go and say that for? I may not be too bright, but most of the guys I know are a lot less so. She hadn't accused him of anything. What's more, now she had us both right where she wanted us. We had as good as admitted that there had been hanky panky going on in there, once he apologized.

And guess who got sent down to the principal's office under threat of suspension?

Yours truly. And I determined on the way down the steps that I wasn't going to knuckle under all this. I determined I was going to stand and fight. Hold my ground. Make Mr. Hiram see my point of view. Make him see whatever I needed, so long as I could stay in school and he didn't tell my parents.

"Weeeeeelllllll, young lady," the old geezer said as soon as he shut the door behind him and stepped out into the office where I was sitting. He had been discussing the whole thing with Miss Belloit behind his closed office door and making me wait in the anteroom. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Good morning, Mr. Hiram," I said, grinning like a banshee on Spanish fly.

That did throw him a bit, I think. He was presuming that I would have a hang dog expression on my face and beg his forgiveness by throwing myself at his feet.

"I think you'd best step inside my office, Ernestine," he said, looking real doddering, like he was gonna keel over at any second or turn to stone or something.

He really was a loser, that guy. Bald, false teeth, knock-knees, dandruff. Probably had bad breath and chilblains to go with them, I don't know. I made sure I didn't get that close.

Now when he told me to step inside his office, I sort of sensed that I was home free. I knew that if he wasn't interested in me as an individual, he would have just chewed me out right there in his main office.

But he held his door open and smiled like an old goat. He excused Miss Belloit to go back to her class and told me to take a seat on the radiator. It was a sort of wooden seat thing covering the pipes.

I sat there, proud as you please, and stuck my chest out. I didn't have real big knockers in those days like I have now, but they would suffice. They did on that particular occasion, Doc.

I had on a light blue cotton dress and when I looked down, I could see my hot; hard little nipples sitting there, poking up into the material. My tits were like cup cakes then, not like the cantaloupes you see before you today. And my delectable little brown raisins on top were just poking so hard into that dress, I doubt that old beak-face could miss them, even though he wore bifocals.

He walked in, closed the door softly behind him and strolled over, with his hands behind his back. Like Groucho Marx.

Only next to him, Groucho looked like a leading man.

"You've done a great disservice to the school, Ernestine," he said, bowing slightly and looking down his nose at me.

His nose looked like an eagle's beak and it looked like a flock of crows had landed on his face.

Now getting Jimmy Rolfson to crack a boner is not my idea of a disservice, but he wanted to play his old game, so I was ready for him.

"I am sorry, Mr. Hiram," I said, right back. "But I do so need a little attention once in a while. I get so little at home."

It wasn't true, but I had heard it on Marcus Welby, M.D. once.

"That's unfortunate," the principal said, -"you deserve better. You are an adorable little moppet, you know that?"

I knew it very well.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Hiram," I replied, "I had no idea."

"Such sweet innocent," he said, rocking up on his toes and rocking back again, as though he were in a trance, "ah, youth. Why couldn't it stay young forever?"

If that's the wisdom of age. Doctor, you can have it in a hearse.

"Also," I said, holding my breath, hoping it would work, "I was trying to get myself a little extra education?"

"Extra education?" the man said, scratching his rear end and regarding me like I was a worm in his coffee.

"Yes," I came back, daring to go on, "I don't know much about... sex. Jimmy was just showing me a few things. Nice of him, huh?"

Jimmy Rolfson was showing you about sex?" the man said, staring at me through the bottom of his bifocals, "what does a nine year old know about such things?"

"That's exactly what I was wondering," I shot back, seeing my opening.

Once I see an opening, Doc, I'm like a cockroach. I just start to crawl right into it.

"Nine year olds are full of misinformation and loaded mythology."

"I agree."

"They're given to grandiose lies and deceit. They have no conception of a higher consciousness. Christ, they can't even get a hard on."

The principal stopped suddenly. He wrinkled up his nose and cocked his head to one side. I think he realized he had gone too far with me.

"I know," I said, real nonchalant, as though there were nothing outlandish about what he had said at all.

"You do?" Mr. Hiram said back, squinting for all he was worth.

"Yes," I said, "but that's about all I know. I mean, I don't know what a hard-on is exactly."

"You're a lovely young girl, Ernestine," the old coot said, with all the sincerity he could summon up without getting a heart attack. "I think it's my duty to instruct you in some extra education. I have decided to show you what a hard on is, how one gets one, and what one can do with it... if he's clever."

With that, he locked the door and came back over to the window seat. He sat down next to me and winked real long and hard.

"Oh," I said, throwing my hands together like I'd just won a prize, "you are such a learned man. I know I can get everything I need to know from you."

"Ahem!!!" the eager old beaver said, scooching his crumpled up body next to mine, "why don't we begin with you taking that little dress of yours off."

Doctor, I knew a few things by then. Let's just say, for argument's sake, that I knew plenty. This old codger didn't have much to show me, actually. But I was determined to let him think so.

"That makes sense," I lied through my teeth.

I got up and walked a little closer to the door. I didn't want to stay too close to him.

He didn't smell too good.

But moving toward the door was really part of my plan. I undid my dress real quick and pulled it off over my head. I tossed it over to him and said, "Here, put that on the window seat."

When he turned to do that, I turned real quickly around and unlocked the door again. His hearing wasn't too acute, so I felt fairly confident that he wouldn't hear me. Which he didn't.

Then, I whipped my slip off. He got a good look at my little nubile nymphet turned up knockers at that point.

A good look. I wasn't wearing a bra. I never did. How could you cop a quick feel in the cloak room with a bra on, I always wondered. And later on, I asked the same questions about the office. How could anybody cop a quick feel in the hall with a bra on?

So, I never did wear that stuff. Just a hot little pair of polka dot panties with a pair of knee socks. That was my standard uniform in those days. Worked fine. Still does.

"That's some outfit," he said, eyeing me hotly, looking down his nose.

"Thanks," I said, "now, were you gonna show me somethin?' "Ah, yes," he said, never taking his eyes off me. He grabbed a hold of his zipper and started to pull his pants down. It broke.

Naturally, I mean, what could I have expected. The guy had like one suit the entire six years I went to Du Bois Elementary School. He didn't let that stop him, though.

He just pulled the pants down anyway, and I saw a pair of rather faded yellow shorts appear in my line of vision. God! I still don't believe how much like twenty year old newspaper they looked.

Now, you would think, wouldn't you, Doctor, that a man like him would have a shrivelled up little pecker about as long as a cocktail sausage when fully erect?

Guess again. That old fuddy duddy reached into the slit in his shorts, though how he found the right one, I don't know, seeing as how his whole shorts were nothing but slits.

And what he pulled out looked like the butt end of a telephone pole, and that's the truth. I could not believe how hard and round and fully erect it was. It was as if an old man had some how gotten the dick of a young stud transplanted onto his body.

It sure did blow my mind. I sort of wanted to get a closer look, so I came in a bit more toward him. I mean, I had to see if this thing was real, or if he had stuck a baseball bat down his shorts to impress me.

"There," he said, holding it around the base and letting me see the head, "that's a hard on. Interesting?"

I couldn't take my eyes off it, that's how interesting it was.

I blinked and got a good look. The thing was big, hard, long and jutted out at an obscene angle to his stomach. It was very dark, a little wrinkled and hairy. But big!!!!! I still can't quite believe it even now.

There were veins running all around it, like streamers round a May pole. And I caught a hot little glimpse of his balls, throbbing under there. They were even more hairy. Pretty good for a man who was damned close to bald!

The head of his was shaped like a giant mushroom, and the mushroom cap was stretched so tightly over the giant stalk, you wondered how it could stay on there.

I had to take in my breath about four or five times just to stay in the same room without squealing over it.

Not one of the little boys on that playground had anything like that to show me. And I had seen a few by that time, Doctor. Light teasing will tend to do that.

"Would you like to come closer and investigate?" Mr. Hiram said, running his bony fingers up and down his thick, hard stalk.

I did want to. But I was afraid. Suppose my little plan didn't work. And suppose I got too involved in watching his big dick rod to put my little plan into operation. I would be up shit creek without a paddle.

But the paddle he was then holding out toward me was too inviting to pass up.

I skipped across the room and knelt at my feet to investigate this thing. I watched it throb hard and a little dollop of semen squirt out the deep-set slit and ooze down the shaft.

It made the thing glisten hard in the light. And his tool was just throbbing so furiously at that moment, it took my breath away.

I couldn't stand the suspense. I had to touch it. I think maybe somewhere in the back of my mind, I still thought it was a trick. That maybe a giant was standing crouched up behind him, sticking his dick up through his legs and making like it belonged to Mr. Hiram instead of Mr. Universe.

But no. His dick was real. It was attached to him. I tried to put my hands around, and I almost got them both around it, too. And when I did, I gave the thing a delirious little yank, to see if it was fastened securely, or if it was a peg cock. I had read about pirates having peg legs in school, you see.

It was not a peg cock. It was a big cock. I couldn't take my eyes off those pulsating veins. The huge, pounding network that wrapped around and around and up and down the full length of his under side. What a sight!

"Would you like to put your mouth down on it?" he said, making it slicker by running his hand up and down the full length of the shaft, and getting it even harder, if such a thing was possible.

"Would I?" I said, half in a daze. "Well, would you?" he replied, winking a little more lewdly than before.

"Yes," I said, digging my fingers into his shaft and pulling myself closer to him by using his cock as a lever.

It was up to the task.

"Ah," the man began to dream a bit, I suppose, "I used to have this thing sucked off by the chorus line of the Yoxie theatre. But that was years ago, the days of the old vaudeville circuit. Before your time."

Shit, I didn't even know what he was talking about.

But I knew one thing. It might take a whole chorus line to suck him off. Shit, his pecker was a whopper. King-size chunk of man meat that just had to be seen to be believed.

You wouldn't think that I would have the nerve to get down on my knees and lick his dick, would you? But I did.

I knew by that time that I pretty much wanted to. Just to say that I did. In case the guy ever got into the Guinness Book of World Records or something.

And to brag to my girlfriends, who probably wouldn't believe me anyway.

"My dear," he said, "your little tongue feels delightful down there."

My little tongue hadn't begin to cover an eighth of the size of that schlong he had on. But I had guts in those days. And spirit. And a desire to stay on and graduate from DuBois Elementary School, too.

I swirled my tongue around a bit, thinking I could get more action on his head that way. It seemed to have an effect. He moaned and held his dick up a bit more on an angle that was easier for me to reach.

I stuck my tongue way down into the center of his dick slit and got a gusher of pre-cum on it. I tasted it and then began to roll my tongue round and round the rim of his head. He seemed to find that pretty acceptable.

So did I, apparently. My pussy started to drool. It just oozed the stuffing out of it. Or whatever you call that clear runny stuff that pours out of your pussy when you're as hot as blazes.

That's about how hot I was that day. Hot as blazes. And raring to go. I just loved working over his cock stick like that. I suppose you could say that I really got into giving him my best little tongue job.

"Oh, oh, oh," he said, as I slid my tongue rapidly around the rim, slipping and gripping the whole way around with my hands.

He worked his hands up and down the full length of his shaft double speed, just so that it would be hotter for me. I wasn't up to the task of licking his whole dick, so he sort of did have to help me out. Not that I didn't want to. I just couldn't stick his whole dick head into my mouth.

It would have stretched it out so far I would have got my jaw busted or some such foolishness.

"Deeeeeeeeelightful," he said, barely hiding his squeal.

I was turning him on. He was turning me on.

"Let's go over to that desk," I said, remembering my plan just then, "I want you to eat my pussy while I'm doing this."

"What an extraordinarily top notch idea," the senile old duck said, sauntering over to the desk as best he could, under the circumstances.

The circumstances being that his prick was hard as a cement mold of a prick.

"There," he said, picking me up and letting me sit on the desk as he spread my legs and pulled my panties down.

I felt the warm air circulate around my pussy. Then, I saw his red, wet rubbery tongue slam down into the cunt slit I was exposing to him.

He was, oddly enough, quite good at giving my pussy head.

I loved the way he drooled all over my cunt and slobbered it around with his tongue. The thing was getting wet and hot and savagely ready to spill any moment.

I was lying on my side on his desk, so I had a good opportunity to burrow my head in his lap. Which was sticking up far enough for me not to have a very long way to go to do that.

"Keep it up!!!!!!" he shouted, closing his eyes and coming down real good into my outstretched cunt slit.

I felt myself careening into a long stretch of comes. A wild, crazed madly diverting series of flashes crossed the path of my eyes and my groin seized up and then spilled over as I shot a tremendous load out of my pussy and made what he was doing even wetter.

That's about the time I felt his balls rock back and forth and his pecker stiffen just enough to make an arrow trail for his jism load to shoot along.

I caught the full load from his dick slit in my tiny sucking mouth and gulped it down as best I could. From the amount there was there, I had the feeling the old fart hadn't come since the summer of '42.

It was a real gusher that bunch of joy jism. It felt like a blizzard down my throat. I lay back and winced and giggled a bit, just chomping down on it.

Then, I remembered what I was there for. As the old dead head was tossing his bald head back and forth, squinting to keep the joy down, I reached over and hit the intercom button to signal the secretary in the outer office.

She came rushing in while Mr. Hiram's dick was still quite substantially vertical. That was curious.

He had a real shocked look on his face and I managed a few calls for help just as she swung the door open.

"He's trying to seduce me," I said, still gulping down the remainder of the man's dick load.

Little did she know, that he had actually succeeded!

"You little scoundrel," the man minced, "you little vixen. How dare you sway your charms to me and then withdraw just when the battle gets pitched?"

Again, he had the advantage of me. I hadn't the slightest idea what he was talking about.

The school secretary didn't seem to be too interested in what he was talking about. She kept her hand over her open mouth and just kept screaming.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh," was all she seemed to be able to get out.

"This is an outrage!!!!" the boy's dean shouted as he charged into the office. "I can't believe this is happening in our own DuBois Elementary School. Dear me, dear me."

The more noise the two of them made, the more people rushed in and I never did get a chance to thank Mr. Hiram for giving me all that extra education.

I'm afraid, Doctor, that he did lose his job. And so close to his retirement, too. But that's life for starters. It could have been me getting the sack and hell!

I had my entire school career ahead of me to think about. This old wheezer had only a few more months. It was either him or me. I was taught all about survival of the fittest. And of the two of us, I was definitely the better fit.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. I was telling all about elementary school and what happened on that fateful day when I learned how valuable teasing could be. It kept me in school.

Miss Belloit was so flabbergasted, she forgot all about having me suspended and it all turned out for the best because Jimmy Rolfson let me see his Geography homework on the way home from school and I got him to suck my tits in the bushes of the old Fenstermaker mansion grounds.

Okay, okay, that clears up that incident. But I do want to tell you how I got into my present job. Being a secretary. Between you and me, Doc, my typing is lousy. Speed? About five words a minute. Maybe less, if I work at it. Shorthand? Forget it! The only way I could take shorthand is if they shrunk my fingers.

But I do have a good memory, so when the boss calls me in to take dictation, I just make a bunch of pretty scribbles and then I remember it all back later when I'm typing it up.

Now, the way I got the job. That one is kinda fun. Because it's a good job, ya know?

Not every girl is as fortunate as I am in the job department. I work around some real hot pieces of man hunk, I want to stress that.

Most of the guys at the detective agency are real men. Not the styrofoam imitations you see wandering around the streets these days. No, I'm talking real men. Guys who carry guns and get evidence for divorces.

Now I have to explain that so you will understand where I'm coming from.

A lot of detective agency work has to do with divorces. Especially divorces where adultery is the grounds for the break up.

When the boss who hired me because I was so adorable in the interview found out that I couldn't type to save my face, he got me involved in the actual detective work that the agency does.

For example, there are' women who want divorces. Alimony, their freedom, maybe they're in love with somebody else... whatever. Anyway, they don't have any grounds for a divorce settlement, which would mean big bucks for them.

They need proof that their Henry or their Reginald was playing around. That's where I come in. I'm the one that traps these guys into playing around with me behind their wife's back and in front of a hidden camera.

Here's how it works. Suppose a woman comes to us, and she wants a divorce. She gives us all the information on her husband... where he hangs out after work, what type of girl he likes, what he goes for sexually, etc. Now this type of woman has to want a divorce any way she can get it. Not the clean way, necessarily.

And here's how I come in. The detectives tell me where I'm supposed to meet this guy. Like maybe it's in a tea room, if he's a tea totaler. Or in a bar if he's a drunk. Or in a cocktail lounge if he's a social drinker. Whatever. I am a very versatile secretary and can do anything... except type, file and steno. That, I leave up to the office temporary.

Now... about how I look. That has always been an advantage, and it is a clear advantage when I'm asked to assist on a case.

I am told how this guy, this particular mark, likes his women to look. Maybe he likes them soft and sexy. Kind of country girl type.

I put on a real flowing skirt and a casual, but clingy blouse without a bra.

Supposing he likes them sophisticated. I wear a black satin form-fitting skirt and carry a cigarette holder and say, "Dahling" a lot. I do love playing dress up. Always have. And then there are those guys with the real strange tastes. The ones who like to see women in white make up or in cowgirl outfits. Whatever. Remember, we're getting the lowdown from the enraged wives, so we get to zero right in on their particular tastes in women. Those poor suckers don't stand a chance.

The first job I assisted on like this was for a woman who wanted a divorce. This unhappy wife said he was into little girls. Well, Doctor, all you have to do is look at me to know what an adorable little girl I would make.

With this streaked blonde hair and these convincing big blue eyes of mine. Hot stuff, huh? Now my boobs don't make it as little girl tits, but that's okay.

I could sort of hide under a pinafore or something like that. Now I was instructed to hang out with my babysitter, who was in reality, another older woman secretary at the agency. We were supposed to hang out at the playground in the park.

This guy apparently spent quite a bit of time at this particular playground. She said you could always recognize him, because he was the one with the tan raincoat and a rolled up newspaper sitting on the ground next to the merry-go-round. And when some cute little girl went for a ride, he would sit there and stare up her skirt and jerk off under this newspaper, which he would spread out.

Now, I thought he might be a real oddball, pervert type, so I requested that a couple of other detectives be present for this one. Not just the one with the camera.

Also, by the time the guy seduced me, I had to look older, since in a court of law, I couldn't seem to be entrapping the man. By that I mean, I couldn't seem to be playing any tricks. Which I was definitely doing, only it was okay, because I couldn't 'seem' to be playing a trick on him.

That was all. And would you believe that this perverted son of a bitch was in reality, the president of General Undex Corporation?

Oh, dear, I wasn't supposed to give his identity away. But you won't tell, will you?

Good. Now where were we? Ah, yes. About to lower the boom on Drayton Von Drack III. Oh, dear, there I go again. I really should be more careful whose names I drop, shouldn't I?

It was a sunny afternoon, when I headed for the park. The other undercover detectives were working in the bushes. Which I had a feeling is where I might end up before I was through with Mr. Von Drack.

I had my long streaky blonde hair all braided and in pigtails. And I had on an adorable pink pinafore. I was carrying a big teddy bear and I had patent leather ankle strap shoes on and knee socks.

I looked very, very young, except for one thing. Two things, actually. My tits. These knockers you see before you now, Doctor, had been taped up and snuggled into a camisole for safekeeping.

I waddled my darling little ass along the park pathway and stayed close to my babysitter. I walked by lots and lots of men in tan raincoats with rolled up newspapers, so I wasn't sure who our mark was at that particular time.

Finally, we got to the merry-go-round and I got on. At that point, one of the hordes of men came marching up and plunked himself on the ground and I knew we had our man.

I sat on a bit white wooden horse and lifted my skirt up in back, so the guy could see my under panties. They were ruffled and pink, a little darker than the color of my dress. You can see it all in the pictures. They're colored shots.

So, there I was, going round and round and about to swear a blue streak because I was getting fucking sea sick, but I couldn't because little girls aren't supposed to swear, although I did at that age, but that's not supposed to make any difference. I mean after all, this was a case. Not reality.

I guess I caught that guy's eye right from the jump. He seemed mighty impressed by me. He kept staring up and nodding his head in approval. Also, he spread that newspaper out across his lap and I think I knew at that moment, that this was going to be an easy case.

What could be easier? We had that guy just fine. Had him dead to rights. His wife had scooped us. Hadn't she? Well, we all thought so. But I'm getting ahead of myself a bit.

I pretended to see this guy and I smiled at him every time I went past him. He looked' back at me and grinned like a monkey. When the ride was over, I jumped off and waddled my sweet little round ass over to where he was sitting. I had to hurry, so he wouldn't have a chance to run off.

But I knew he had that newspaper to deal with. I also had a pretty good idea of what was under it.

"Hi there," I said, squiggling up my nose and smiling real cutsie at him.

"Hello," he said, looking around to see if anyone was watching him. No one was, except about four detectives, one with a camera.

"I saw you watching me," I said, putting my hands on my hips and twisting round and round seductively. Like I used to do when I was nine and a half. Which is how old I told him I was.

"I sure would like to get away from my babysitter for a few minutes," I said, after we had exchanged monosyllabic pleasantries.

"Can you do that?" the man said, getting his zipper up finally, and closing the newspaper.

"I think so," I said, "she doesn't want to know from me for a good twenty minutes anyway. She thinks I'm still on that merry-go-round."

As Drayton stood up, and now that he was real close to me, I saw what a gorgeous hunk of male he was.

Chrissakes! For a few moments there, I almost wanted to go tell his wife she was making a big mistake. He was over six foot tall and really gorgeous. Broad-shouldered and a lot younger than his slightly greyish hair would lead one to believe.

I liked him. He was nice and friendly.

Too bad I was gonna have to let him seduce me under these conditions. But oh, well, a job is a job, I thought to myself. "Why don't we go over there for a while?" I said, pointing to the bushes.

"What?" the man said, pulling himself up sharp and looking down at me.

"In the bushes," I said, jumping up and down eagerly like a nine and a half year old ninny would do.

"But you're just a little girl!!!!!" he said, holding his hand out to me, "what do you know about bushes?"

"I like to play in them," I said, really pouring on the old innocent routine. Nine and a half year old girls don't have bushes yet. At least I didn't when I was nine and a half. That would have been a dead giveaway, huh?

I kept my mouth shut on that one and sort of tugged at his coat sleeve and looked up at him with my big, moist eyes.

"Well," he said, finally, "maybe for a few minutes."

"Oh, goody!!!!!" I said, jumping up and down delightedly.

I urged him closer and closer to the edge of the park where the bushes were blooming in profusions of pink and purple and waxy green. I snuggled under his arm and let my head rest against his big barreled chest.

Shit!!!! I thought to myself. What if this guy gets wind of what's going down once we're in there? He could reach out and strangle me with one fucking hand tied behind his back. He was that big!

But I screwed my courage up and forged ahead. It was quiet and dark in there all of a sudden and I saw the place that had been pre-arranged for me to be. A tree with a yellow ribbon tied around it marked the spot.

That was where the men with the cameras were supposed to be. I lay down on the ground and looked around. I didn't see anyone so I knew they were well-hidden.

"Come on down here and play with me," I said, hoping to hell that wouldn't sound too pushy.

"And why do you want me to do that?" this guy said, trying to fight the fact that there was a bulge tenting his raincoat out even as he spoke to me in that questioning tone.

"Because I want to sit on your lap and snuggle up to you and give you some hot, wet kisses."

I suppose I shouldn't have rushed the issue, but I had been told to get him into a compromising position as quickly as I could. Besides, the ground was cold in that dark hollow and I had on the shortest little dress you could possibly imagine.

You want to know how short? I'll tell you how short. I had to have my cunt hairs trimmed off just for the occasion. Oh, that was partly so he wouldn't guess that I wasn't as young as I made myself out to be.

But it was also because that dress was so damned short.

And those little frilly panties didn't hide that much either. You could see around the elastic leg holes when I walked! I knew I was turning this guy on like mad, but I tried to keep my wits about me.

"Now why would you want to do that?" the man said, blushing a bit and obviously enjoying being teased by this little nymphet that he thought I was.

"Because I like big, wooly men," I said, and holding my breath I took the dare to follow that up with, "I especially like it when they feel up my pussy."

I closed my eyes and puckered my lips and waited for the response. That's about the time I felt a blinding flash of light go off. My eyes were either closed or almost closed when the camera went off, so I couldn't swear exactly where it had come from. But I knew it was the bushes.

It had been aimed at my face and this guy's face was facing mine, so I was pretty sure he hadn't seen it. That gave me even more confidence. Since I knew that the detective with the camera was back there, I figured I was pretty well protected and I resolved to get this job over with as quickly as I could.

But there was one more reason for wanting to get it over with... I was hot. This guy was such a fucking brute! I don't think I ever saw a man so macho in my whole life. He was spellbindingly handsome. And big and strong. My type of guy, all the way around!

"I like showing it off, too," I said, impulsively, feeling a rush of confidence from knowing where the camera was.

I lifted my skirt up and spread my legs far apart and stuck my pubis out where he could get a good look. I glanced down to the slit in his raincoat and saw the most delectable round cock head poking through it. That's when I realized that the man had had his zipper down the whole time. Probably the whole time he was watching me go round that carousel, too.

"I'd like to see it in that case," the guy said, as I nodded and slipped and my fingers around the rim of the elastic waistband.

At that same exact time, another flash went off in my face. I aimed my pussy in the direction the camera had flashed from and saw a third, then a fourth sudden flash go off.

I had no idea they needed so many pictures. But I was happy to oblige and do my job and get my pay for it.

So, I sat right down there on the ground and continued to flirt with Mr. Big Buckaroo while I fingered my hot, juicy pussy and aimed it toward the camera for a full-frontal nude shot that would knock the eyes out of any judge who saw it.

I spread my legs wide enough apart to allow this mark to look up in there and wince with delight. My pussy bush had been shaved nearly off, with a scalpel. Thanks to the detective agency's nurse. And, of course, I had that tape holding enormous knockers down to flat little pancakes.

I found myself really hoping all the time that he wouldn't ask to see my titties. If he looked at a shaven cunt, that was one thing. He might believe I was a kid.

But if he saw the high, round curve of those deliriously plump knocker mounds, he wouldn't buy me as a nine and a half year old kid for a second!

"You sure can pump that pussy socket of yours," the guy said, smiling and letting his coat drape open a bit more. "I sure like the way you drill yourself, kid. Been doing it long?"

"Oh yeah," I said back real eagerly, "since I was a little girl. Around three. Oooooooh, this feels so good!"

I hate to say it, but it did.

I wiggled my hot, punishing little fingers all over the inside of that wild, vibrating pussy slit. I squirreled them around and around and up and down and in and out as fast as I possibly could.

I saw several flashes while I was doing that. Exposing my luscious pink shaven pussy meat to the camera, I mean.

And the more pictures got taken, the more I relaxed. The judge couldn't fail to see that this man was a pervert. So I thought!!!!!!

Well, I gotta say though, that looking down at the wide, rounded dick top of his, I couldn't really think he was a pervert either. It was all hard and very wet and throbbing. And it tilted up at such an inviting angle!

I suddenly had this irresistible urge to wrap my little lips around it. That's about the time the guy flung his coat open and gave me the view I had been waiting for with baited breath.

He had a stunningly long dick on him. What am I saying? You wanna check it out for yourself? There are copies of the picture available. The guy shooting me caught quite a chunk of his shaft and head from the angle he was holding the camera at.

It was a deep tan color and quite hairy. A real mouthful, if you know what I mean. I never could have gotten my little girl's mouth around it, but as a woman, I certainly would have wanted to try.

"Well," the big man said, holding his big schlong in his hand at the base. Which was a long way around, too, I might add. "How would you like to lick this a little bit? I know you couldn't possibly get that teensie weensie mouth around it."

I swear, if I hadn't been playing the part of a nine and a half year old girl, I would have accused him of patronizing me.

Maybe it was just a tease. But it felt like patronizing.

Well, never mind what I thought. I guess I better tell you what I did. I leaned over and started licking the tip of that rock hard dick bullet. Shit, it sure good.

I loved the way it tasted. It rocketed me to my stomach. I just lapped away at that thing, pretending that it was far too big to ever get down my tiny little virgin throat.

"Oooooooh," I said, taking soft pats at it with my velvety pink tongue, "you taste so divine. But I could never swallow that big whole thing down into my throat, now, could I?"

"Not if you are only nine and a half," the big man with the big prick said.

"Well, I am!" I said, defiantly, swinging my mouth around his prick in a hot little agitator movement.

"But maybe you'd like to try it!!!!" the guy said, wiggling his eyebrows a bit and acting very sexy.

At the same time, he framed his delicious big sausage dick with his hands and held it up my way. It looked so appetizing like that, running with thick, tacky semen and throbbing so hard, Doctor. I couldn't help myself.

I got to work on that thing immediately. I sunk to my knees and spread my legs wide enough apart to allow him to swill me around and around with his fingers. I had been told not to let him do that, because he was likely to discover that I wasn't the virgin thing I was pretending to be.

But did I listen? Noooooooooo. Not me. I had to go and play it cutsie. I wanted my cake and I wanted to eat it, too. Or I should say, I wanted that dick and I was damned well gonna eat it!!!

I made a nifty little circle with my lips and sunk right down on the head of that big dude's throbbing wang. I stuffed his hard sausage head into my mouth and worked a back and forth, side to side movement on it that nearly made him cream right then and there.

He started making swirls and eddys and hot sucking sounds as he whipped my cunt to a frenzy. He pressed my clit back hard with the palm of his hand.

Once I got my mouth down around his shaft and headed it toward his base, I sort of stopped noticing the camera shots as they kept firing off. I saw them later, in court. But I didn't see them as I continued to eat this man's prick with my heart and soul.

"Yum" I managed to say, before I took him in my hot, slimy muscular throat channel all the way to the hilt.

"You feel like cream pudding inside here," the man said, "hot and sweet."

That was a nice compliment, and so, I dug my mouth down even further on his vibrating dick pole and stuck to the job of sucking him like there was no tomorrow.

"Arrggghhhh!!!!" I said, as I felt his balls tense up and spring forth their load of dick come. The jism shot out the track of his dick with a flurry of white, hot spunk. I swallowed the whole load in practically one sitting.

I do remember seeing the camera getting my swallows. Also, capturing a little trickle of that stuff as it shot out my mouth.

Well, I did figure I was safe. I thought it would have to look like he forced me to do it. Besides, I was under age. At least he thought I was.

I guess it was kind of confusing. But my pussy wasn't confused at that moment. It was bravely thumping to the beat of that man's punishing pounding fingers as they drove in and out of it, making me ever ready to shoot my own hot, eager load.

"Wow!!!!!!" I said, licking my lips and lying back to enjoy the benefits of a full, pulverizing come.

I grabbed my stomach for dear life and felt myself spilling over Niagara as I went off in a fury of pangs of orgasm.

"Hot shit!!!!!!!" I said, riding his hand hard to climax.

I was vaguely aware that the camera was rolling. Which it was.

I finally got my breath back and rolled over and there was this guy leering over me. His dick was rock hard as they make them.

"Uhhhhhh," I said, finding my little girl's voice again, which I had dropped for some of the wilder moments of our lustful little event under the sycamore "What are you doing?"

"Just want a peek at those titties of yours," he said, "since we've become such good friends in the last few minutes. You understand."

I didn't. I grabbed my blouse lapels and tried to hold on to them.

"Dear me," he said, "what's this?"

He had been fingering my boobies and apparently had found the tape that was binding them into teensie mounds of girlhood.

"I had surgery last month," I tried vainly, "my clavichord. Can we go play on the monkey bars now?"

"Please," the man cajoled, "just one little peek?"

I shook my head and he sort of grabbed my lapels and ripped them open. I fought him, but I didn't have all the strength I wanted to, because I had just spent myself in a rush of orgasm. Also, the man was incredibly strong. And determined, I might add.

He was yanking the tape off, making me scream in agony as the thing ripped off my flesh.

"Help!!!!!" I cried, figuring that the detectives would rush in. I thought I was being watched out for, remember?

Oddly enough, no help came.

Also, the camera kept going off. It went off even as my voluptuous set of hot, ripe melons appeared into full view.

"Quite a set for a nine and a half year old," the man pronounced, holding me in his arms in such a way as I was pinned against the tree and exposing my hot, white, upturned titties.

The camera was really going crazy now.

"Helpppppp!!!!!!!" I cried aloud again.

No response. Just that damned camera flashing again.

I didn't want any of this to happen, Doctor. Really I didn't. But in a flash or two, the man was gone. He had thrown his raincoat back over his now dangling big dork stick and was heading off through the brush back toward the park.

"Don't leave me here like this," I said, in so soft a voice I know he couldn't hear me.

That was when I heard the muffled noises. I jerked up and covered my tits with my broken pinafore front. I grabbed the blouse and held it in front of me.

I looked like Alice in Wonderland that had just been molested by the White Rabbit.

That's when I saw the guy against the tree trunk, tied up and gagged. His camera was next to him. It had been smashed. A little further off, there was another guy, tied to a rock. His gun, the one he is licensed to carry, was lying a little ways off from where he was bound and gagged.

Then, it hit me what had happened. I, and the whole detective agency, had been framed.

It had all been a set up. Even the woman who claimed she wanted a divorce.

It was a trap from the get go.

I had no idea, but the woman, the man, the man with the camera were all police agents working to smash unethical detective agencies. Apparently, we had been using some highly illegal practices to entrap client's spouses.

Like dressing women up as nine and a half year old girls and entrapping them into seducing them in parks and such places.

Well, I don't want to go into all the legal details, but there was a court case. A trial. The agency I worked for was found guilty of illegal practices. And I was given a suspended sentence and made to see a psychiatrist.

Well, Doctor Psychiatrist. What do you think of me? Am I an unethical person. Would you recommend a life sentence for me? How about Devil's Island? Am I so diabolical?

No, Ernestine is not diabolical. But, she does like seducing men. She did when she was really nine and a half years old. Her school principal, were he alive today, would attest to that.

And, later on in her young life, she liked repeating that role. The role of young, nubile seductress. She got caught the second time she tried it, though.

Caught red handed with the cameras rolling. And she got punished for it.

But the legal punishment does not insure her cure. I will work with her on her motives for desiring to seduce older men, while playing the role of the victim- virgin.

I suspect there are deep secrets of her past I will need to unlock before I can help her. But the court has assigned her to my care for six months. I will give her intensive therapy during that time and see what can be done for her.

She is salvageable. I'm certain of that.

---------------------

NOELLE

Noelle virtually stormed into my office. She had no appointment, so my secretary refused to let her see me. Yet, she was so determined, that the young woman at the front desk finally threw up her hands and admitted her to my inner office.

She was a stunning client, though one without an appointment, as I soon learned from my exasperated secretary. Barely five foot two, but spectacularly proportioned and with the most engaging smile.

I don't think anyone would have believed this young woman capable of any wrongdoing whatsoever. Yet, she was the perpetrator of one of the most audacious, confounding ruses that I have ever been privy to in my entire career.

I heard through the grapevine, Doctor Pal, that you're interviewing cases that concern virgin victims. Well, you can't very well do a complete study without interviewing me.

I know more about the subject of virginity and being victimized because of it than anyone else does. Why? Well, you may ask. And I'll tell you. You see, I am a professional virgin.

I know it sounds absurd. Unbelievable. But so it goes throughout history. Who would have believed that the world was round until Columbus proved and discovered a new world in the process.

Everyone thought the Wright Brothers were nuts. Until they flew an airplane. And of course, there was the radio. And space flight... to mention a few.

Yes, of course, Doctor. I intend to make my point. You see, I know as well as the next person that virginity is a one time thing.

Like, once the cherry is popped, the cherry is fucking popped. It's gone. Over and done with. And good riddance, in some cases.

Yet there is a segment of society that very highly prizes virginity. Not just a stuffy, Victorian-minded segment, either. Oh, no. I intend to prove that to you as soon as I can by my own example.

Now, as I mentioned, a girl can only lose it once right? Wrong! I've lost it on several occasions. Well, between you and I, Doctor, I've only lost it once. Really. But not according to those who would pay and pay gladly an exorbitant rate for the privilege of deflowering me. Well, they don't know that I'm not actually a... yes, I see. How is it done?

Well, you may ask. It's quite simple really. You see, I look the part. That's nearly eighty percent of it. This smile. Yes, I use it liberally. And often. It's radiant, I know. Isn't it lucky?

I look like an innocent lamb. Yes, an innocent lamb is seldom graced with such a gorgeous figure as I have. Do you like my body, Doctor? Oh, sorry. Well, I have got one hell of a pair of peccaries on me, don't I? Tits. That's what the boys down at the dock call them.

I call them sensational. Don't even need underwear. That's a nice touch for a virgin isn't it? That sexy, provocative, lacy stuff just doesn't make it for the sweet innocent thing. And then there is this diminutive little waist of mine. And say, how about these gams? Did you ever see such perfectly shaped, longish legs in all your born days?

Most of my clients haven't either. They're glad to get a look at virgin legs. Really good virgin legs, that is.

And I've got really good virgin legs. And a hot little strawberry blonde pussy, I might add. But that's strictly between you and me. If I'm selling the joy of the first time, I don't want it spread around that I'm a hot little fuck, do I?

Ah, you're beginning to catch on.

Now, I'm going to have to get technical a moment, Doctor, but that's the name of the game in certain societies around this town. As I said, there are several groups, even today, who prize a girl's virginity dearly enough to pay for it.

The Glockenspiele Society for example. That's a sort of secretive order that runs open meetings here in the city. Some similar types of societies condone sado- masochism or heavy bondage and so forth. Well, this particular group believes in the sacred cult of virginity.

And of course, they like to deflower virgins whenever they get their hands on one. For the paying customers, you understand. And I rent myself out to them about four times a week.

Yes, going through the divesting of my virginity four times a week is a bit tricky, but I want you to know that I'm not the only one who's done it.

Priestesses in pagan temples of old had to go through this, too. And God only knows how many times a week! Every time some shit-faced pilgrim crawled up to the temple on his knees, one of those sacred vestial virgins guarding one of those sacred tombs had to prove her virginity for the paying populace.

Now, I understand that in the old days, a young woman could get away with a pigeon heart and a little alum. If strategically applied, anyone sticking his rude, probing fingers up her cunt could get the full impact of that sweet thick bloody hymen sticking up there. And they could deflower her in plain sight, with nothing whatsoever for her to fear.

And I suppose there was the usual yelling and protests that accompanied that act.

Well, today, things are much more modern. I simply go to my own plastic surgeon and he outfits me with a lifelike replica of a hymen that would fool the most discriminating de-virginizer of young girls.

Then, newly virginized, I pick up the pieces and go off to my next job.

Yes, The Glockenspiele Society has been generous with me. There is a big call for my particular gift. Perpetual virginity. Tee hee.

Let me tell you a typical scenario of what might happen on a typical night at the Glockenspiele Society get together.

It is held in a theatre. Well, in a small theatre. A large loft apartment, actually. But there is always a stage up front. Well-lighted for maximum theatre impact.

After all, what goes on up there is a highly theatrical experience. Especially for me.

I would sit out in the audience. Whenever I attend these evenings, I am always dressed in the sweetest of white frilly little dresses. Usually with a big blue bow in my long flowing strawberry blonde hair.

I am twenty-one, Doctor, but I can sure look a lot younger when I try. Say about fifteen or sixteen. But I do have to say I'm eighteen for those things. No one as young as I look is allowed in there. . Anyway, there I sit with my dainty little hands folded across my delicate little lap. The people who come in are usually curious, but genteel people. It costs a big wad just to set your foot in the door, so you have to be well-heeled to see the show.

Also, you have your tourists. People who are there on sex tours or field trips to Plato's Cove. Curious tourist types. With money to spend.

And there they would be sitting in the audience along with me. Me with the sweet, hot little smile and the ribbon in my hair and the plastic, rosy little hymen stuck up my cunt with the automatic bleeding device lever inside it.

Isn't technology wonderful, Doctor?

Who would guess that I had about two hundred and seventy five dollars worth of equipment stashed between my legs?

The first part of the evening is a lecture on the wonders and joy of first-time sex. All about the mystery and magic of the cult of the virgin. The guy who runs the society is a man named Pruitt. Dano Pruitt. You've probably read some interviews with him. And he's been on a lot of TV shows. Nobody takes him seriously. He's usually fond of those shows that sensationalize sex. Shows like the Bill Ronahue Show. Sixty Seconds. That kind of thing.

Anyway, Dano is a real neat guy. And he's good with his hands. I ought to know. He's deflowered me about fifty times.

The customers are sometimes allowed to do that, but I want to tell you what happens when they do.

Supposing the lecture is over. The crowd is getting very restless and excited to know what's next. And Dano gives it to them.

"Do we have any virgins in the house?" he says, scanning the audience with that eagle eye of his. "Don't be shy now, remember, we were all virgin once. Come now," he would say after a while, "there must be some man or woman who has never experienced the joys of that first full out rapture known as de-virginizing."

After he would really question the audience hard, somebody would raise their hand. Usually a young man. Hopefully once with a nice body. Sometimes, an older person would volunteer.

But if there was no man that would volunteer, he would pick someone who wasn't a virgin. So the guys in the audience didn't have to be virgins. They just had to be there. Or to volunteer when he picked them.

"You sir," he'd say to one of the better dressed, more gentlemanly looking men of the bunch, "would you care to assist me in a little cherry plucking?"

Well, hardly anybody ever turned him down. Remember, our audiences were made up of curious people.

Then, the big test. "Are there in any young women in the audience tonight, of legal age, who would care to help us test the theory that there is no time like the first time?"

I would sort of turn bright red about this time. And I would fidget. If I did those two things well enough, I would never have to raise my hand even. I would get spotted.

And of course, with this face of mine, nobody would doubt me. Also, by the way I walk and talk and look and how clear my skin is and everything. I could sure convince a judge and jury, let alone a room full of rubes who really want to believe it.

"Ah!!!!!!" Dano would say, fingering at me, "I think we have a real live one with us here tonight."

That guy is a such a good actor. He could really put it on. And those dumb asses would believe him. Can you believe how gullible people are? Well, I myself could never quite get over it.

Then, he would help me up onto stage and we would go through this ritual. It was really very tastefully done.

Dano would get a volunteer. Someone with class, as I mentioned. Sometimes, if the guy was with his wife, he would bring her along on stage with him.

"Now," the man would say to me, "may I have your name please?"

I would tell him my name. I would use Noelle sometimes. But other times, I would use another name.

"Noelle," he would say, with a smug look of satisfaction on his face, "such a beautiful name."

"Thank you," I would say, with a smile that would melt stone.

"Now, Noelle," he began again, "would you care to assist us with an experiment?"

I would nod my head real sweet and arch my back so my tits would stick out.

"I take it you came here tonight to lose it, am I correct?"

"Yep!" I would say, innocent as a new born lamb. "I think it's going to be getting in the way, very shortly... you see, I have a boyfriend. My first one."

The audience would usually applaud on that line. After all, I did make it soooo convincing.

"And you are completely ready to lose it here tonight, with our. help?" he would say real dour and totally serious.

"Sure am," I would say.

"Then climb up on this table and lift your skirt up and we'll all find it our most immense pleasure to look at your youthful body under our special lighting."

With that, he would give the command, and the lights would turn to soft pink spot lights focused on my adorable body, and away from the torn curtains and the dingy backdrop.

I always managed to unbutton my blouse daringly far down by the time I had crawled up on that table. It was sort of like a doctor's examination table, you see, Doctor. Ah, yes, you would know about those things.

And I could sit there with my head raised a bit and watch the act go on while I was enjoying feeling pushed around inside. I love that rush of probing fingers that accompanies that first deflowering. Nothing like, know what I mean. I've experienced it hundreds of times, but there just isn't any thrill to compare.

"Now spread those leggy legs of yours," he would say, in a grand manner, "and lower those adorable little pink panties."

I would slither out of my panties, usually with some assistance from Dano, but occasionally on my own.

Now I gave those come hungry sinners something to stare at. I doubt any of them had ever seen a pussy as fucking beautiful as mine.

It is, as I mentioned. Doctor, naturally strawberry blonde. A bush beyond belief. The hairs are downy soft and spongy and very transparent. That gives everybody a hot little look at my pink gash. I am awfully proud of my cunt.

Been deflowered hundreds of times and it definitely doesn't look it.

In fact, my sugar bush gives the appearance of never having been tampered with at all.

Ain't that a corker?

Anyway, while I was busy flashing my pussy meat to all those gaping tourists, I would usually keep a rosy little smile on my face. Like I was sure that this is what I really wanted.

To get rid of it, I mean.

"Such a lovely little bush," Dano would say, "let's give this brave lady a hand, folks. What do you say?"

Then, he would get them to applaud.

"Now, Sir," he would say to the volunteer, "would you be so kind as to wash your fingers here in this bowl."

Then, he would snap his fingers and his assistant, who is in reality his wife dressed in a skimpy show girl costume, would come out and bring a towel and a bowl with sterile water in it.

I really insisted on that part, Doctor. I like men with clean hands to deflower me. Always.

Then, after the guy had washed up and was handed a towel, I would start to look a lot better about. the idea. I would perk up, ya know. Be all wreathed in smiles, and all that shit.

"Now, Sir," Dano would intone majestically, "I want you to touch our fair maiden on the maidenhead."

This would sometimes draw a hearty laugh from the audience. Other times, it would make them fidget uncomfortably in their seats and probably make them wish they were back in Witchita.

That's when I would really spread my cunt cheeks. I would reach down with my fingers, at Dano's instruction, of course and lift that luscious little plump curtain of flesh back with both my fingers and show my clit and my cunt meat for all to see.

What the hell. I've got nothing to hide. I've got the squeakiest, cleanest, pinkest, ripest little cunt slit in captivity and I know it. Besides, I'm a virgin!

So there I would be, holding my cunt apart and flashing every inch of my luscious honey pot for all the onlookers. And this volunteer would just stroll up to me and stick his fingers in there and poke around.

What is it about that first, secret delicious rush, Doctor? I love it so. My pussy literally starts raining come honey as soon as some total stranger even begins to prod inside me.

"Please," Dano would say, "let's make this as comfortable for the young lady as we can. Won't you please massage her cunt lips and clit a bit and put her at complete ease?"

The volunteer would seldom shirk from this invited task. Now this is where it gets fun for me, because I love the feel of hot fingers kneading my cunt lips. And some of these marks are hot action, too.

Like the last guy that did this to me. What was his name? I can't remember. But he must have been an artist or an interior decorator or something because his hands were just so fucking delicious. They sure knew what to do and how to do it. And muscular!!!! I don't know, maybe he was a concert pianist. Or a stenographer.

His fingers were wizards, all fucking ten of them.

He brushed my cunt around lightly with them at first. Making me feel real light in the head and dreamy. He found my clit right where I'd left it. Some guys aren't so swift at that, but he was.

What a zinger!!!!! I was nearly swooning by the time he had worked that love button over real good. He used the flat part of his hand to do that. The guy knew what he was doing, didn't he?

He got my clit so fucking engorged, I thought it would pop before my cherry did. The blood was rushing to that thing so fast, it hummed like a cricket.

"Oooooooooooh," I let out, unafraid to be discovered as liking it.

"I see you're no stranger to the preliminaries," Dano said, laughingly.

The audience would laugh a little maybe, or they would get uptight. But who the fuck cared bout them? I was getting off like crazy by this time.

I felt this guy using the pads of his index fingers to run up and down the full length of my thick, slippery cunt lips. He was very good, I do say.

He ran them up and down, getting those plump hot little pinkish lips to unfold under his fingers like the petals of a damask rose.

That's when I looked down and saw his bulge. You know, the one in front of his pants. The usual bulge that men get when they start fingering pussy.

That was a healthy sign! Now, I would start to let out little low moans that told Dano I was ready to be devirginized. And I wasn't kidding about those moans. They were real!

"Oooooh, aaaahhhhh," I would say, tossing my golden locks from side to side and jutting my cunt up and out for all to see. "I'm getting really excited."

"Getting excited, are you?" Dano would say, keeping things rolling along, the way the best game show host would, "well, we've got a nice surprise for you Noelle. Just you wait."

I never had to wait long. I could feel Dano winking or prodding the guy with his hand. And the guy would zero in for the kill. I would brace myself against this table seat and act like I was in seventh heaven.

Well, I was at least in sixth, so you could hardly call the thing a complete fake.

"Yowza!!!!!!" I would say, as I could feel his thick, hard finger penetrating my cunt.

"Keep going there, Sir," Dano would say, steering his body around so the audience had a great view of his finger, my twat, the whole deal.

"Oh, you're taking my virginity!!!!!" I would say, in that convincingly sweet voice I have, "it hurts. It hurts so good!!!!!!"

And that part was no lie. It did hurt real good.

I don't know what it is about a man's hands maneuvering my insides, Doc, but they sure felt good plundering that rubbery, ready hymen of mine.

I gasped and tossed and turned very convincingly as I shot my wild reddish load out my pussy hole. It seeped down and of course the spotlight recorded how wet and red and ripe it was.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen," Dano would roar, "this young woman has just undergone a ritual so daring, so bold, so frightening, that she deserves our heartiest congratulations. Yet it is an ancient ritual, as old as time itself. Let's put our hands together and give her some support here."

The audience would applaud, and I would, of course, manage a wan little smile.

That always provoked them to even greater applause. They sure appreciated my courage under fire. My cunt was on fire by this time.

And, that poor guy! His balls must have been throbbing, because I could see for sure that his pecker was. He wasn't as bathed in the light as I was, so nobody really could notice.

"Well, young lady," Dano said, coming up to me and offering me a warm handshake and a little fatherly kiss, "how do you feel now?"

"Fine," I would say, real sweetly, "only now, I'm sort of experiencing this warm glowing ember between my legs."

"Ah, yes," Dano said, smiling like a monkey, "that old sensation of wanting more. It's perfectly natural, dear, don't be alarmed."

"But, I'm soooooo anxious now to complete the act," I said, covering my hands over my mouth afterwards, as though I had said something really bad.

"You are?" Dano said, as though he was totally surprised, but not unhappy to hear me say it. Then, he grinned broadly.

"Well, well," he would say, making widely expansive gestures toward the audience, "this little lady seems to not have got enough. Anyone have any suggestions?"

Now what happened next would really depend on the audience. If there were some bold conventioneer types sitting there, somebody might just shout out, "let him fuck the stuffing out of her," or "plow her with your pecker, the silly ex-virgin is hot for it!" Or something like that.

But a shy audience might need a little more prodding.

"I have an idea," Dano might say, finally, if nobody gave him the suggestion, "if this pleasant young man wouldn't mind," he'd say, real teasingly.

"No, not at all," the guy said, not even knowing what Dano had on his mind, but hoping he had an idea.

"Would you mind awfully, sharing the first joys of intercourse with us right here on our stage tonight, dear?" he would say, so sweetly that butter would not melt in his mouth.

"Why... " I would start in and then open my eyes real wide, "I thought you'd never ask."

With that, Dano would show the young man a clothing rack and a screen that his assistant wife would wheel in. He would get undressed behind the screen and wrap this tiny little silken towel like thing around his middle.

Of course, I would sit there the whole time, acting very charming and anticipating my first fuck like it was a senior prom or something. The whole time Dano would be busy making sly remarks our first coming together.

Then, this guy would re-appear and find me ever so ready to get it on. And I didn't fake my enthusiasm that night in question, Doctor, because this guy was built like a Viking conqueror. His muscles rippled under the light and I got a good look at what was making his pants stick out in front. Only that thin little piece of satin he had wrapped around his middle was keeping me from seeing it in the flesh.

And I was getting ever more eager to see it. I was practically panting to see it. But I had to hide that fact. I didn't want anyone in the audience to know that I had ever seen one of those things before.

It so intrigued me, that big long yardstick of his. I could hardly wait. My cunt waxed buttery at the mere thought of him ripping that tiny little sarong off and sticking his massive man pecker into my fist tight little 'virgin' cunt.

"You're a very plucky girl," Dano said, as his assistant wife helped the guy off with the satin wrap. "Isn't she ladies and gentlemen?"

Again, a round of applause.

"Let's just help her get her blouse off so she won't suffocate with all this excitement going on."

He'd make this snapping little gesture to his wife then and she would unbutton my blouse and let my tits fall out, exposing my high, luscious meaty mounds to the assembled audience who managed to take in their collective breath as they admired the view from my twin peaks.

"Ready, set... " Dano said, as the man stepped out of his sarong and faced me and the audience in profile, "... fuck!!!!"

The audience gasped anew as the man bared his monster big dick for them all to see. For me to see, too. The thing was so big and round and suckable. I almost dropped my virgin pose a moment in favor of wrapping my lips around that schlong of his.

It was so juicy and big and very, very hard.

"Would you like to get acquainted with his tool first before you get fucked with it?" Dano said, addressing me sweetly.

"Yes," I said, managing to find my sweet little maiden voice, "that would be nice."

The guy walked up and I stretched out my eager little hands and encircled his giant telephone pole with them. The thing was throbbing like a jackhammer by the time my hands barely got all the way around it.

I slid them up and down his shaft a few times, bringing a smile to his face and to mine. And I think, too, to the rest of the audience.

I doubt any of them were thinking much about Witchita just then.

"Oooooh," the guy said, squinting his eyes and drawing a sharp breath in between his clenched teeth, "that's dynamite."

I knew it was. I'd held quite a few peckers for the benefit of the audience already, and I was good at handling them. And this guy's was something special. Hard as a bat and blessed with a thick, sturdy bluish vein running up the underside of it that when I touched it, sent jolts of pure electricity into my hand.

I massaged his balls a bit, too, just to put him more in the mood. Personally, I couldn't have been any more in the mood than I was already. I was practically screaming to get fucked.

Well, that's about the time we began my first fuck. My so called first fuck. It wasn't anywhere near my first, though, as I mentioned. But I was convincing enough for him and everyone else in the audience to believe it was.

Ain't I something? Been had a hundred times on stage and still as fresh as a new little daisy.

This guy's eyes were popping out by the time he steered his mammoth pecker wand down inside my rippling tight hot pink little cunt slit. He aimed it real good, and I think the thing thudded against my cunt lips a moment.

"We'll need a little lubricant for this," Dano said, snapping his fingers for his wife to get some grease on this man's-pecker, "As you all know, virgins don't lubricate so easily. Sometimes, they need assistance."

He said that with the grandest, most fatherly smile. And everybody just glued their eyes to what was happening up there. I know they were getting hotter out there, cause I feel the heat in the room rising. I know I was getting hotter, too, because my heart was pounding and doing flip-flops with anticipation.

A first time is always so dramatic, don't you think, Doctor?

"Aiiiieeeee!!!!" I said, as soon as the greased pole knob was screwed up inside my petal pink cunt socket. And it was some rocket getting screwed up in there, that's for sure.

"Hooray!!!!!" the crowd shouted, once the thing had been driven inside me. "He did it!" some others cheered, and there were lots of approving groans and sighs.

Then, the guy started banging me in earnest. Wow, what a weapon he was working with. Fucking torpedo if you ask me.

He humped his hips hard in and out, out and in. He wiggled his ass around in hot, erotic circles. He placed his hands around behind his ass and grabbed onto his cheeks to help his leverage.

He fucked me so high and so hard, I swear that cannon muzzle of his scratched the backs of my eyelids.

"Oooooooooooh," I let out, charging up and down with my hot, eager hips, "what a thrill!"

"Enjoying your first sexual encounter?" Dano said, leering down at me.

"I certainly am," I said, practically swooning on the spot.

The guy would just keep plugging me for all he was worth. I didn't think he'd ever stopped. And I secretly hoped, maybe he wouldn't. I bit my lip like I was half in pain, half in ecstasy.

"She likes it, I think," Dano said, patting the capable soldier fucker on the shoulder, "well done, lad."

"Oh, no," the big hunk hollered, thudding his dick tip up into me and whirling it around like an egg beater. "I'm gonna blow."

"What?" I said, sitting almost full up to investigate what was happening down there.

"Lie back, child," Dano said, "you're going to love this. This man is gonna pop his cork."

"He's what?" I said, eyes wide with mystery.

"He's gonna pop his cork," Dano repeated dramatically, "and if you're very good, you can drink some of the champagne fizz."

"Terrific!" I said, scrunching my hips up to take in even more of the man's delicious long, hard cock pole. Bang!

The guy tore a bundle of juice loose from his balls and it propelled like a jet stream down the full length of his pecker rod.

It squirted out the end of his dick and I could feel the initial charge fill up my cunt with the force of a high pressure fire hose.

"Pull out," Dano commanded, steadying the man as best he could, "we've got to show this young girl what a man's tool likes when it's shooting its load."

The guy yanked his still hard, erect member with the champagne head still pouring out his open bottle neck.

"Fabulous!" Dano moderated.

"Wow!" I said, "could I catch some of the drops?"

I didn't have long to think about it. Dano steered this guy's dick right up into my mouth and I caught the last of his delicious come cream full in the throat.

"Tastes like vanilla cream," I said, grinning and smacking my lips.

The audience roared their approval.

"Did you come?" the man whispered to me when they were still being quite noisy.

"Come where?" I said, eyes blinking like a newborn chick.

"Did you toss your goody basket?" the guy said, just before Dano pulled him off of me and shoved him away a bit.

"What do you mean?" I said, my eyes clouding with the tears of naive uncertainty.

"He means," Dano interjected, "did you have an orgasm. A climax? We can all certainly see that he did. He didn't want you to be left out. Neither do we."

"Why no," I said, "I didn't feel too much, except that I loved what he was doing in there. Rotating his long thing around inside me. It felt so new and fresh and untried. I sure am glad... " Then, my face clouded over.

"I didn't know I was supposed to shoot champagne, too," I said, looking slightly dismayed and drawing my legs together while his wife let my skirt down over my gorgeous honey dripping cunt.

"That's quite all right my dear," Dano said, taking charge, "bring the curtain down and let's get on with our little presentation."

When the curtain came down, the man standing next to me looked upset. That's because he knew I was. I had that hang dog expression on my face. Like I'd missed out on something really important. But I didn't quite know what it was.

"Please," he said, just as Dano's wife brought him the screen to change back into his clothes behind, "don't be sore. I didn't know you didn't get off."

"Well," I said, a few tears of sorrow pouring down my dainty cheeks, "I am sore. I can't help that after what you did to me. But I guess I just missed the boat on all that other stuff."

The guy felt real bad for me. That's where Dano came in. He came over to the guy and spoke to him in low tones.

That's when he would usually collect anywhere from fifty to two hundred dollars from the guy. He would explain how upset I was, understandably, from having been devirginized and then fucked. That perhaps I had gotten myself into more than I bargained for and wouldn't it be nice if he could compensate me in some way?

The guy usually agreed to do so. Often to the tune of big bucks. After all, he had certainly had his fill of sexual excitement for an evening. Don't you think?

Now, Doctor, that is just one sort of thing I would do to earn money with my luscious built-in, man-made hymen.

There are others, as I will tell you about.

Have you ever heard of Satan's Choice? They're a gang of bikers. They have a bad reputation, but when you get to know them, they're okay. I know them pretty well.

I used to live across the street from where they have their condo. They all live together in this big old apartment place. And I lived there before I made enough money marketing this maidenhead of mine to move uptown.

The gang leader is named Rollo. He is head of the Satan's Choice and he has a Harley that would make a limousine blush. He also has a dick on him the size of an alligator's tail, but that's another story.

Now, when these guys initiate a new member into the organization, and I do use the term loosely, they make him deflower a virgin in front of their eyes. We all get into a big circle and they tell the prospective new member that they have kidnapped a virgin just for this occasion.

The guy, whoever he is, is usually quite skeptical. He probably doesn't believe there are any virgins left in the world and that if there were, these guys would have taken care of her long ago.

But imagine the shocked look on the new guy's face when they haul me out gagged and bound and trussed up like a Christmas goose. I usually would be wearing this lovely torn little frock. Something with white and blue or yellow in it. A flowered dress, maybe white stockings.

And I would always have this terrified look on my face. The guys would make a circle and I would be dragged right into the center with a look of sheer terror in my eyes.

Then, Rollo would order somebody to pull down my gag and I would say, something like this, "what are you going to do with me?" or "wait till my father finds out you've kidnapped me! He'll send out the coast guard. He's head of Bright Steel Associated. Don't you know what you're doing?"

Stuff like that. That poor, kidnapped heiress thing always sounds real good, cause I look the part, ya know? And I usually manage to add something about my never having been touched before.

Everybody gets excited when I do that. Even the guys who've seen me get devirginized before!

"Come on," Rollo would shout, totally indifferent to my pleas, "lay this broad right now. Right in front of us. We wanna watch her squirm."

The new guy would usually say he didn't think I was a virgin.

Then, he would whip his dick out and set to work proving it. Usually by first making me suck him off. Now this part I always did with great abandon and expertise.

That would really throw them off the track.

"Don't make me do anything more than suck your dick," I would say, pleading with my whole heart, "please. I'm going to be married next month and I've never done anything... "

"Shut up!!!!!" Rollo would say, smacking me across the mouth and laughing gruffly. Then, he'd scratch his big stomach and spit in my eye or call me a naughty name.

"Suck my dick," the new initiate would say, "let's see how you are at holding a big fat handlebar, biker bitch!!!!!"

"I'm not a biker... !!!!" I would try to deny that I was a biker bitch, but I never got any further because I would have this whole thick, pulsating log stuck down my throat.

They always tasted real good, those logs, and I would get into sucking them off as hot and hearty as I could. Slurp. Slurp. I'm thinking about the one I sucked off last week... it was a beaut!

It belonged to a big, black stud of a biker. He was half-black, I think, cause he was real chocolatey color. Like a fudgesicle. His dick was the size of about four of them piled end to end.

I sucked that thing as hard as I could for him, winding my tongue around and around the full circumference of his shaft. I twisted my mouth down on his dick head and started making sucking sounds to beat the band.

Yum!!!!!

But in a flash or two, he pulled his dick out of my mouth. I felt robbed. The long, thick thing was glistening in the light of the living room and I was getting hotter by the second.

I think he just wanted to get his pecker wet before he dipped it into my virgin box. Also, I think he doubted that I was really a virgin. But he found out!!!! Did he ever! "Take this big dick in that virgin box of yours," Rollo commanded and pointed to the big, black stud's massive cock tower.

"I can't!!!!!" I wailed my head off, "it's too big. It's gonna pierce a hole in me. I'm a virgin. No, please!!!!!"

With that, the guy stood up and I felt several hard hands pin me down to the floor, rip my clothes off, and spread my legs out wider than scat!

"Oh, no!!!!!!!!" I screamed, but that's when somebody clapped his hands over my mouth and shut me up good.

I looked up to see the rounded, hard tip of the black man's dick aimed between my legs. It came closer and closer. Like a black locomotive heading down the tracks.

I really got into it, ya know. I held my breath and looked away. But the hard, throbbing tip of this guy's pecker penetrating me made me wince with joy.

It was so big and vibrating. Like the hot, scorching end of a black wrought iron poker.

"Aiiieeee!!!!!" I shouted, in my classic virgin deflowering yell.

That's when I felt the hard tip of his monster pecker log ram against my little plastic hymen and break it in two. The thing ran synthetic blood out my oozing cunt hole and swam down, down over my hot juiced up pussy mound and down my thighs in red rivulets.

"Oh, my God," the startled initiate said, " she was a virgin!"

"Are you going soft on us?" Rollo said about then, "or are you a true Satan's Choice rider?"

"I'm a rider till the end," the black guy said, grinning, and humping his hips like fury to prove it.

"Then you ride this little ex-virgin chick right down the fast lane of your highway, Brother," Rollo said, "prove to us you're worthy to be a biker with the Satan's Choice."

The guy locked his dick up inside me and took off. It was a bumpy ride, right to the end. He dipped and rocked and swirled that thing up in me till we both came real hard, sweaty with exhaustion.

What a wild ride! I couldn't help grinning a little when they finally helped me up and mopped me off a bit.' always got paid pretty well for those initiation sessions, Doctor, but not as well as Dano paid me. I have to confess that I do them somewhat for fun. It's always fun to show these guys a virgin where they least expect to find one.

And that's how it goes. My life is full and fun and I don't have any complaints. Oh, well, I do have one little one. You see, being a full-time virgin is a great job. The pay is excellent and the hours are short. I make new friends and meet exciting people from all over the world.

But there's just one thing. Having lost it so many times often makes me think that it's too bad I never had it to begin with. That's right, Doctor. Odd to think of it, but you're looking at a girl who was never a virgin to start with. I was born without a cherry!

Noelle is one patient I had a difficult time taking seriously. I suppose she is correct in her assumption that no book on victim virgins would be complete without her, but if you ask me, she is nothing but a particular kind of prostitute.

Not that I think that classification beneath contempt, but she shouldn't be trying to pass herself off as anything legitimate. She's in no position.

THE END
Rape: Virgin Victims ....(78k)    by Unknown




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