<!--ADULTSONLY--> This story is a work of fiction and care was taken - no letters were hurt when they were placed on the page. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Every story I write contains sexual situations between adult females and young girls between 5 and 16 years old. These stories should not be read by anyone who is either not old enough to do so or who would be offended if they did. Most if not all of the stories I write contains explicit pornographic material; it is not for minors under the age of 18 or close-minded people. Any characters, places, businesses and/or circumstances etc. described herein are entirely fictional and are a product of my imagination. None of the following is based on real organisms or organizations, and any semblance to anyone or anything real, living, deceased or imaginary, is purely coincidental. There is no place called Cherish Valley in the United States that I am aware of. I write stories for my own enjoyment. I write stories in which adult women are degraded, humiliated, and fucked by young girls. If this story seems to be better edited that is because I have a wonderful male editor who at times adds just the right amount of detail into the story line. If there are any remaining mistakes in the story as far as grammar or punctuation, then it is my error and not his. Thanks "A", you're wonderful. I also want to thank several readers with whom I have become "email friends" and my one "cutie". Your ideas keep me going and energizes me. Author's advisory: All these stories that I write about are for adults only. If you're under-aged or of a closed mind and you read my stories, your teeth will rot and all your hair will fall out! This stuff is too mature and sophisticated for you. Anyone who is an adult or age of majority, of course, is welcome to continue. Email me with your comments at: msteven1005@yahoo.com I reply to readers who take time to email me. Little Angels 3 Fantasy fiction for adults only Amy found herself singing at work the next day. She had gone to make herself a cup of coffee and one of her fellow workers, a young black woman by the name of Georgia, asked why she was so happy. It had been a tough morning at the company and the general mood was downbeat. Amy had given her financial report to the board and numbers weren't good but that didn't dampen her enthusiasm. "I made fifty cents last night," beamed Amy, and then checked herself. For a woman who was paid tens of thousands a year it was a silly thing to say. "My daughter's selling cakes for her school project," she began to say, knowing it rang false. The black woman wasn't fooled. "You too, hey?" "What do you mean?" Amy tried not to show alarm. "It's a big thing for a young girl to learn how to make things and sell them and--" "Oh hush your mouth Mrs Lucas," said Georgia. "You're a whore, right? Little Angels using you?" Amy felt her face colouring. "What? No! I have no idea what you are talking about!" She picked up her cup and started to head for the door, saying she had work to do. "Hon, I saw your picture on the Little Angels website," said Georgia. "No point in lying to me. You're a ten dollar whore." Amy wanted to say she was no such thing, but this woman had seen her picture and the admission of fifty cents was confirmation. "I only do it to make my daughter happy," she stuttered, trying not to blush more. "Please... You won't tell anyone, will you? I don't want anybody in the company to know what I am doing on my own time." "I won't, but there are probably other women from the company on the site too and they will see you. I have to admit, seeing the CFO of the company on a girlie website kind a shocked me at first." Amy gulped. Yes, people would know. She had hoped it wouldn't come out at work, but clearly it had. "So, are you a..." Amy hesitated but dropped her voice. "A whore too?" "Of course, hon." Georgia grinned. "I'm a twenty dollar whore. Actually, twenty two dollars fifty. Hoping to crack the 23 dollar mark tonight. Pretty little white girl over at Oakville wants me kneeling at her feet in her bedroom." She paused. "I'm looking forward to it." A wave of relief came over Amy that this Georgia would keep her mouth shut. Then she asked: "I go to the site but I've never seen you there." "That, sweetness, is because you don't look at the nigger section." Georgia said proudly. "I wouldn't," Amy began, meaning she would never call a black person a nigger, but it came out as if she wouldn't go there. The truth is she didn't. She looked at all the professional white women and their profiles but she had never clicked on the black section. There were probably black professional women on Little Angels if she had cared to click on the section. Georgia didn't seem offended. She even laughed. "Most white women don't think us niggers get the same treatment. All that equality shit." She leaned forward, the tone of her voice confiding. "But I'm a woman, just like you, and what you need I also need. That is sex with little girls, white or black." "I don't need it," said Amy at once, but a chuckle from Georgia made her stop with any other feeble excuses. "We all do, Mrs Lucas," said Georgia. "But the reason you are still a ten dollar whore to these girls is because you think you're better than that. You might be some high powered executive at this big company, but deep down you crave what we all do." "Which is?" "To serve a girl's fantasy's and fetishes and make her happy any way she wants." "I've only just started," said Amy defensively. "Hon, your first rating was bad. I saw that. You thought you couldn't do it, I guess. That being fucked and slapped and all the rest of it was beneath you. Or maybe you thought you'd get a girl who would make tender love to you," She paused and looked at Amy. "Whatever you are here at work, whatever you pretend with your husband, you aren't anything but a whore. More than that, honey, part of you wants to be a whore. Maybe you haven't realised it yet, but it's what you want." Amy realised suddenly that it was true, that under the surface, under the veneer of respectability, part of her wanted just that, to be a whore, to be a cunt that little girls could use as they pleased. She nodded weakly. "It's hard," she said. "Tell me about it, hon," Georgia sighed. "I cried at first. A lot. I begged my little girl Safina not to do it to me. She's nine by the way and a real hot little minx, but she insisted. She tied my hands in back of me and slapped my face and twisted my tits," she indicated her own large bust, "and there was a lot to twist too," she laughed. "I found it real hard at first. I was on ten dollars for three weeks and Safina was mad at me for not trying harder. Then I found if I got hung--" "Hung?" Amy gasped in horror. "Yeah, hung. Girls like to hang women. You not found that yet? Shit, you really don't know do you?" Amy shook her head and blushed. "I told you this is all new to me." Suddenly, they heard distant footsteps. "Can we go somewhere where we won't be disturbed," Georgia asked. "Where?" Amy said, suddenly flustered. "Your office?" the black women replied, a smile playing on her lips. Amy giggled with embarrassment and nodded. Somehow, despite their positions in the company, Georgia was now in charge and as if to prove it, the woman picked up her coffee and started leading the way. She followed meekly, watching Georgia's ample bottom sway and ripple under the thin material of her skirt. "Hon, girls like sex with women," Georgia said as soon as they were sitting in Amy's office. "That means everything to do with sex. They like to fuck us and have us eat them out and slap us around some and tie us up and make us do humiliating things to please them. Oh sure, they can be nice and loving and make you cum if they are so inclined. But hanging... yeah, there's a whole nuther world of girls who like to watch women hang themselves." "But you could die!" Georgia grunted dismissively. "No way. These girls get off on us struggling and dancing on the end of a rope. But they have timers. When it rings, they let us down. But they like women who can dance a while, maybe while they beat us." At that Georgia stood up and turned round, lifting the hem of her skirt. There were faint marks on the back of her thighs. "Sometimes they beat us a real lot while we're swinging at the end of the rope with whips and canes." Amy stared at the marks. "And you don't mind?" "Oh I mind. But what does that matter? It makes Safina happy that I'm being used. Sometimes I'm stood for maybe an hour on a stool with my hands and legs tied up tight and a rope round my neck, just waiting for my daughter to stop watching cartoons on TV or doing her homework or putting out the trash before she pushes me off the stool." Georgia smiled as she looked at Amy. "Hey, sometimes they are chatting to other girls on the website, on the girls-only channel, talking about whores and how to treat them. I get shown on web cams and I hear the girl who is going to hang me laughing about me. So, I stand up there on show with my legs aching and maybe a gag in my mouth and clothes pins on my nipples waiting for the girl to get off on seeing me dance on the end of a rope." "Don't you ever worry that the girl will ignore the timer?" "Of course I do. Every time I worry. But, here I am," Georgia grinned holding out her arms. "Could be worse. I could be a toilet." "What?" Amy gasped. "Oh, you really are ignorant aren't you, Mrs Lucas? Look, some women are used as toilets by the girl. You get to spend a few hours with your mouth open wondering what will come your way. Will it be poop or pee or both at the same time?" Amy stared at the wall, lost in thoughts. "I had no idea. I thought... I thought it would be about love. At least that is what Bella, my daughter, and I thought." Georgia laughed. "Oh it's about love. It's about what they love to do to you. Listen, these girls at Little Angels have it all their way. Your daughter, my daughter, they all chat online. They trade ideas. It might start out as innocent and affectionate, but it gets more than that. These girls have lots of ideas, lots of plans for women like us. They love that we are what we are, but they won't stop once they're on the website." "Perhaps I should stop," said Amy. "Before it gets bad." "So you really don't love your child?" "What?" Amy stared at the woman now. "Of course I love Bella." "Then," said Georgia, "you put up with what they want. If you want them to be happy you accept the way they are. Our feelings aren't important to them. As my daughter says, I'm just a walking cunt waiting to be used. Funnily enough, it makes them better children. You ever hear of moms who don't talk to their kids, don't know what they are up to, resent the fact the child has no time for them? Well, that won't be our kids. Safina wants to be with me, wants me to be pleased with her. She works hard in the home, works hard at school, helps out around the house, talks to me a lot, shares things with me--" Amy interrupted. "Even the online comments about you?" "Fuck, no! Of course she doesn't! That's secret. That's for her and her friends and all the other Little Angels. I'm just a whore, remember? Anyway, Safina won't break the rules, so I don't. I don't want her to grow up and be a rule breaker, if you see what I mean. No, I want her to be the way she is. She's kind and considerate and I love her. She loves me. She just wants other children to enjoy me. Wants them to see I am a good woman, that I'm obedient and willing and able to follow instructions, no matter what. That makes sense, doesn't it?" Amy had to concede it did. A thought suddenly struck her and she looked up. "Tell me," she said, "when you go out whoring, what do you wear?" Georgia smiled. "Ah, real women's talk." "What do you mean?" "When two whores meet, like us, they soon get round to talking about what they wear to please the girls using them." Amy felt the blush rising in her cheeks again and looked down. For this woman to call her a whore, so casually should have shocked her, outraged her, but instead she felt a slight thrill in her sex. "I wear a white dress, styled like a cheap wedding gown," Georgia continued, "slit up the side, to show my legs and garters. White high heels and underwear too, except when my top gets peeled down and my tits flip out of my bra cups and they do things to my nipples. I kinda got a reputation for that. But my girls like the innocent whore look on me." "Don't you get embarrassed when you walk from your car to the front door wearing the wedding gown?" Amy asked, remembering her visit to Bobbi's house and the embarrassing walk from her car, dressed as a schoolgirl. "I mean, everybody in the neighborhood could be watching out their front window as you stroll up to the front door." "Who cares? I'm there to please the little girl and not the neighbors. I'm proud of what I wear because it pleases the girls." Amy gulped. "I'd like to see you in your, uh, whore outfit." Georgia laughed. "Then get your girl to book me. I'll show up at your place in my cheapest wedding gown and you can see me before she takes me off to do whatever with me." She paused. "How about you? What do you wear?" Amy cleared her throat and coughed. "Well, ever since my first date the girls like me wearing little girl outfits." Georgia smiled and Amy blushed. "Oh, please do tell me! What do you wear girl!" "Well, they like my hair in a pony tail with lots of red lipstick and extended eye lashes on my eyes. A white blouse with one button buttoned at my breasts and a short mini-skirt that comes mid-thigh. Then I wear white thigh high stockings with little pink bows at the top and black six inch heels. I feel real cheap when I wear the outfit." "You're supposed to feel cheap girl!" laughed Georgia. "We're whores and girls like adult women who whore themselves out!" Amy bridled a little. "But I'm an educated woman. I have a master's degree plus I worked hard to move myself up the company ladder. I just, just have a hard time acting and dressing like a dumb bimbo woman for little girls." "Honey, it don't matter how smart you are, these girls want your body not your mind but if you give them your mind by humiliating and degrading yourself for them then you'll move up the whore list quicker." She laughed, and her voice became slightly seductive. "Besides, I think I might like to double date with you sometime." Again Amy blushed, and again she felt her clit throb. She laughed lightly to try to disguise her feelings. "I'm not sure I want my Bella to hang you." "Hon, it's not your choice. Your girl, Bella, can do what she wants to me. Anyway, she will see online the comments about me, what use I am put to. Trust me, if she reads that I can be hanged, she will want to see that herself." Amy nodded. "I guess so... Do I have to put a hook in the ceiling of her room for you to be hung?" "It should be there anyway. A strong hook, ready for whatever. I mean, your girl might want to tie a whore to it, you know, hands over her head so she can have access to the whore's body, maybe to whip her with a bull whip or just feel her up some. I presume she has a few strap ons, right?" Amy blushed. "Not yet." "Then get them for her. Also, something to beat the whore with, gags, ropes, chains... a good selection of things she can use. Get the nastiest and meanest looking strap-ons you can find. She won't thank you for it directly, but it will make her happy." "What if she wants to practice on me?" Georgia laughed. "Then she will. No problem. Hey, you are a whore, right? Maybe a cheap whore right now, but you want to succeed at being a whore, I'm sure." "I do," said Amy perked up. "I know I shouldn't say this but... I want one day to be a fifty dollar whore." "You will be, with practice. Daughters like to practice on their whore mothers. Yeah, that includes me too. Last night Safina tied me up and slapped my face. She said she needed to get her wrist action right for the next whore she has." "But why were you tied? Couldn't Safina just slap you anyway?" "Of course she can, but pinning my arms to my side made sure I didn't try to resist. To be honest, I'm glad I'm bound. I hate it when Safina is upset with me because I bring my hands up to protect my face. It's a natural reaction but it's a bad habit I have at times." "Does she ever, you know... Fuck you?" "Oh Lord yes! Anyway she can. Bent over in the kitchen, out in the car, in the changing room at the mall. Hell, she even did it once at the movies. I carry a strap on she can use on me whenever she wants, a big ten inch one too. She even pushes it up my ass if she can. Right now though I'm wearing a plug in my ass. That's to teach me not to object when she fucks my back passage. But as she says, it's all practice for us both." Amy shook her head at all this. "I had no idea," she said. "I'm sure you didn't, honey" Georgia grinned. "But it's necessary. Women like us want to be the best." She stood up suddenly. " Right now though, we have to get back to work here. I'm going to the bathroom. I'll pull out my ass plug, lick it clean, re-insert it and make myself cum before I head back to my desk. All this talk makes me horny. Hey, don't look so shocked. I have permission from Safina to cum once a day at work on my own." "She gives you permission?" "If I behave, sure. If I don't I have to keep my hands off myself. God, those days are tough!" Georgia grinned. "She's happy with my whoring right now, so I get a free climax. Want to join me? It's always good to have two or more whores masturbate together. We have to stick together you know." "No!" Amy blushed and hesitated. "I... I don't have Bella's permission." "Good, you're learning," said Georgia. "I can tell you will be good at this. Just remember why we do this. It's to make our girls happy, so they are proud of us. I love it when Safina says I'm a good bitch. Good nigger bitch, she says. That makes me one proud mom. See you around, hon." Georgia turned to leave but paused. "Oh, Mrs Lucas, you better get a good timer just in case your girl books me. One with five minutes on it," she said and with that, she was gone and Amy was left to reflect on what whoredom lay ahead for her. Amy even put her hand to her throat and wondered what it would feel like to be dance on the end of a rope for the pleasure of a little girl. Then she put her hand between her legs and was surprised to find just how wet she was. She wondered if she rubbed herself here, would she have to tell Bella what she'd done? Amy knew the answer to that, so it was best to get permission first she decided. She turned to her computer, brought up the Little Angels site, found nigger the section entitled "Niggers" and started to read about Georgia. There was even a picture of her in a white wedding veil and a rope hanging loosely round her neck, but the message was clear. That made Amy wonder if she should get some new pictures of herself. Well, she decided, she would ask Bella: her daughter knew best how to whore her mother out. She might even help her practice... ---- "I have been training women how to be hung by little girls for twenty years," said Miss Gardener with a sniff. "I really do know how to make sure the woman swings properly." "I'm sorry," said Amy. "I wasn't meaning to suggest you didn't know how, or what to do. It's just that, well, I don't know if I can." "Have you discussed this with your daughter?" Miss Gardener was a solid woman in her fifties with a firm air of authority, and she raised an eyebrow at Amy. They were sat in Miss Gardener's home. "I'm not sure it's your choice to decide if you can or can't be hung. We're whores Mrs Lucas and it's the girls that decide for us." "Well, yes, of course it isn't my choice. If Bella wants me to dance on a rope, then I understand. It's just that she came across your website and services and said you trained women and she thought I should be, uh... Hung. Um, actually she said I would get better ratings as a whore if girls could hang me. It's just if I don't do well then I won't earn as much money." "I see." Miss Gardener still sounded frosty. "I take it your daughter has hung a woman recently?" "Why yes, how did you know?" "That's the way it usually goes," the middle aged woman shrugged. "Few women, even whores like yourself, get the idea on their own. Most girls who like to abuse women talk on Little Angels and exchange ideas. Hanging women is very much in demand. Many girls like to see a mature woman struggling on the end of a rope. Even tightening a noose on a woman's neck is pleasurable to them. Beating them while they swing, smacking the hung woman's face afterwards to make sure she is still conscious... There is no end to the delights the girl can experience." Amy gave a small gulp. "My daughter Bella hung a woman I work with. Oh, she's a whore like me..." Amy paused, thinking how easy it was now to describe herself as a whore and surprised by her growing sense of ambition: she was up to 11 dollars seventy five and wanted to be better at what she did. "Like I was saying, this woman lets girls hang her. She can do five minutes and so Bella wanted her and hung her in her bedroom. Apparently she looked lovely in white, swinging on the rope from the hook I'd had put in. Bella was very thrilled." "As girls often are," observed Miss Gardener, almost casually. "Mrs Lucas, you are new to all this aren't you?' Amy blushed a little. "I am trying to be good at this." "I'm sure you are, but the fact remains you are still new. Now it's not for me to say what a whore mother like you should do, but while you have no choice there is a lot you have to learn first. Have you been fucked in the ass much? Have you acted as a toilet to a little girl? Has anyone even restricted your breathing with a bag over your head? Or held your head under water in the bathtub?" Bombarded by her rapid-fire questions, Amy stared at her and shook her head weakly. The middle aged woman sighed. "Mrs Lucas, it takes time to be a good whore. Lots of women are used by small girls for sex and pleasure, that you already know. What you don't know is the learning curve that each one of them has to go through." The woman leaned forward. "Whores have to be trained to cope with all sorts of things. How would you feel to be bound in a cold bath and have your head held under the water? I ask because how long you can hold your breath is important. Even when you have had your face sat on by a Little Angel, you need to be able to hold your breath as you lick the girl's anus. Being hung is just one aspect of being a whore. An important one, but not the only skill you have to learn." Amy was suddenly alarmed. "Are you rejecting me? Are you suggesting I'm not good enough?" "Not at all, Mrs Lucas. I just want you to be prepared for a wide range of disciplines. If you are new to this you need to learn as much as you can as quickly as you can. Whoring isn't just about taking a strap-on up the ass or cunt. In fact any one can do that. Let us be honest, you just have to hold still and keep your mouth shut." Miss Gardener gave one of her trademark sighs. "There is more to being a whore than taking a plastic cock. Oh you'll do that, trust me, but you won't be graded on merely having holes. May I ask you a question here?" "Of course," blinked Amy. "You ever wondered why so many professional women want to be whores?" "I have no idea." "Think about it, Mrs Lucas. You have a demanding job. You have told me that. You also know the Little Angels site has more than its fair share of judges, attorneys, teachers, executives, even movie people. All successful women like you. Women who have lots of responsibilities. Above all they are happy to be fucked, abused, tied, punished, spanked, humiliated and even hung if the Little Angel wants it. All of these women, especially the ones at the top of their businesses, want to be good at this. These women don't want to fail, for their own sake as well as their girl's. Failure hurts them even more than being hurt when they are, say, beaten with a strap-on or a bamboo cane. These professional women want to be fifty dollar whores, not stuck at ten dollars, because that means they have succeeded. They're somebody of importance in the world of little girls." "Like me." "Exactly like you. When a woman puts herself forward to be used by a girl, she is doing it not just for the child but also for herself. It's many things, including masochism, but it is very much the desire to be the best in the eyes of someone important. Your daughter Bella matters to you. If she said `I want to hang you, mom?' what would you say?" Amy thought for a second. "Obviously, I'd say yes." "And if I asked the same question?" "No way!" "If Bella says she wants another child to hang you for twenty dollars, your reaction?" "Um... yes." "And if I gave you a thousand dollars to hang you?" "Still no." For the first time since they began talking, Miss Gardener smiled. "You see, you know your place. Serving a dominant girl is a way of being successful for people like you. The money is a token, a measure of how well you are doing. Pleasing me is far less important than in pleasing Bella. But being hung isn't a question of standing on a chair with a rope round your neck. You want to do it so well that it is twenty dollars well spent. You want the girl to praise you on Little Angels. Oh, you'll never see the comments. Your daughter will not permit it." "I am her mother." A small surge of the old Amy rose in her. "In one sense, Mrs Lucas, but not in as significant a way as perhaps you once were. You are her property now. If you didn't know it before, what she says goes. If Bella says you cannot do something, you cannot. Once you signed up for Little Angels, though you may not have realized it, you gave yourself to Bella's control and any other little girl." Amy gulped as the truth sank in. "Don't I have any say in my life now?" "Plenty, but you say it and then you wait for Bella's approval, or the girl currently using you. Mrs Lucas, there is an old saying that sums it up perfectly. When a little girl says jump you don't say yes or no, you ask `how high?' That's your life now. You dance to others' music." "And dance on the end of a rope." Amy blushed. "Indeed." There was another smile from the older woman. "That is what I will train you to do. You will follow my instructions and learn how to endure whatever comes your way. Oh, don't look so worried. I won't tie you up and gag you and whip you before hanging you. Bella will do that. You will take my instructions to her and you will obey her. She will follow my plan to make you more able to cope with being used. You will just do what she says, when she says it." Amy nodded. She felt a strong sense of determination building inside her. "When so I start?" "As soon as you get home. I am sending my first instructions direct to Bella. She will be waiting for you with your first stage." Miss Gardener paused. "Congratulations, Mrs Lucas, you embarking on a life of submission and service. With luck you will be a fifty dollar whore before you know it."