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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."