Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Pedo.  Incest.  I hope this is as close as my stories ever come to sadism.

   Disclaimer: The children described here are perfect, ideal, and
completely imaginary.  Do not think
reality could ever feel like this.  In prison, child molesters are used

as human toilets.

   Punishment by Pedro Feelya

   I never really liked my sister.  I hadn't spoken to her in a dozen
years. When I got the call that she and her husband had died, I went to
Florida almost out of a sense of duty.  I knew that their daughter hadn't
been in the car with them.  It hadn't occurred to me that I was the closest
living relative to my niece.  I had never even met her.  Her name was
Christine and she was ten years old.

   It took three months to arrange the funeral, deal with the lawyers and
life insurance, and sell, ship, or store their stuff.  I didn't need or
want any of the money or stuff.  They didn't have much money.  I put
everything of sentimental value into storage for Christine.

   The lawyers and a social worker made it very clear that I didn't have to
take Christine; she could have become a ward of the state.  I didn't have
anything against kids.  I just never got married and never wanted to.  I
had three months to get used to the idea of being a father.

   For the first two months, Christine was in shock and didn't know what to
do.  Christine had lots of friends and their parents helped a lot.  She
spent most of her time with them while I took care of business.  She really
didn't pay attention to me.

   The third month, Christine began to realize how much her life would
change as most of the furniture disappeared from their house.

   Christine was ten years old and an only child.  I have opinions about
"only" children.  Often, it seems, the parents of "only" children spend too
much attention on them, and either spoil them or control them too much. 
Christine was one of the spoiled ones.



   "Hey Christine can I call you Chris or Chrissy?" I asked casually.

   "No." Her voice was more than a little bit haughty.  "My name is
Christine.  Not Chris, and not Chrissy.  It's Christine."

   I blew it off.  She was suddenly an orphan and had to be scared.  But
then, her mother had always been a royal bitch.  That was why we hadn't
talked for so many years.  I recognized a little of my sister in Christine.

   Christine wasn't all bad.  She was polite, but never open or loving. 
She became more and more difficult to deal with by the end of the third
month.  I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent and confident adult. I
knew that a child would be difficult, especially this child, but I should
be able to handle it.  This wasn't Hollywood, and she wasn't Satan's child.

   I took Christine back to California with me and she settled in.  My life
didn't have to change drastically.  She went to school, and I went to work.
Meals became more regular and I cooked a lot more.  I had several female
friends I could get together with, but none too serious.  It was nice to
have someone to share the house with.

   I assigned Christine some chores, and that was when the battle of wills
began.  When she wouldn't clean her room, it was easy enough to disconnect
the satellite dish.  I didn't miss it much myself.  But she pretended not
to miss it either.  When she decided not to help setting the table or
vacuuming, I tried to take different privileges away.  It wasn't working.
She was too strong willed to let anything affect her.

   One night she was in a bad temper and she started calling me names.  I
thought most of them were funny so I laughed.  This made her angrier.  Then
she called me a, "Loser".

   She had found one of my buttons and I was pissed.  In two steps I had
caught her.  I sat on the nearest seat and put her over my knee.  I then
began to slap her butt until she was sobbing and crying about how sorry she
was.  I then let her up and she walked to her room.

   I noticed that the moment she stood up, the tears had miraculously
vanished.  Her sobbing had ended in one breath.  Her eyes weren't even red.


   Then I remembered being spanked when I was a kid.  As a tough boy, being
hit hard on my bottom was nothing compared to falling off my bike or
sliding down a hill.  It was the drama and the fear that made me cry in
front of my parents.

   My punishment hadn't changed Christine one tiny bit.  She was just as
defiant as ever.  A couple days later, I received Christine's first cell
phone bill.  She had run up a three hundred dollar bill on her cell phone,
I had to take it away.  That hurt her.

   She started calling me names.  I could take that.  Then she spit at me.

   She was half ready so it took five steps before I caught her.  My blood
boiled.  I didn't know what to do.  I sat to put her on my knee again, but
this time I pulled her pants and undies down to expose her bare bottom.  I
laid her across my lap.

   Before I could even smack her, the tears began to flood and she began to
sob.  I spanked her sharply and watched her reaction.  I then spanked her
barely, and got the same reaction.  She was a terrible actress.  I was
frustrated.  I admit I wanted to hurt her.  I reached one hand down and
spread her ass cheeks, then snapped my finger against her asshole.

   Suddenly she sucked up a sob in surprise, and jumped.  I snapped my
finger again against her anus and the soft flesh beneath.  Christine
screamed a real scream.  The scream began in pain and ended in rage.  Now
she began to fight me, pounding her fists against my leg.  I snapped again.
She screamed in pain again and it ended with every nasty word she knew.  I
snapped again, and she screamed, and then began to cry for real.

   I was still pissed, and I wanted to give her something to remember.  I
shoved my forefinger into her butthole, up past the first knuckle.  Her
whole body stiffened up, trapping my finger inside.  Her sobs racked her
whole body.

   I looked down and several things crashed against my brain at once.  Her
ass was gorgeous.  This bratty little kid had a perfectly curved, soft,
beautiful butt.  It was turning pink where I had slapped it.  My anger was
being washed away by fear.  Maybe I had gone too far.  I was sitting with a
half naked girl spread across my lap.  Her hairless pussy would be just
above my hardening cock.  I could smell her body.  And, my finger was still
deep in her asshole!

   I jerked my hand free and she screeched.  I stood her up and she bent to
grab her pants, pushing her bare butt into my face.  She then pulled her
pants halfway up while she ran sobbing for her bedroom.  Her bare butt
danced before my eyes the whole way.  My dick was rock hard.

   I didn't see her the rest of the evening, and I sat down to have a few
drinks with my best friend Jack.  You know Mr.  Daniels, don't you?

   The next morning we hardly spoke and that evening we ate dinner in
silence.  I had half expected to have to explain myself to the cops that
day, but apparently Christine didn't want to take that route.

   After dinner, I sat down at the table to pay the bills.  Christine was
supposed to empty the dishwasher.  She was being rough with the dishes.

   "Could you please not bang the dishes?" I already had a bad headache.

   Christine looked straight at me and a plate slipped from her fingers to
shatter on the tile floor.

   "Hey!" I said.

   She threw the next plate down hard, and it exploded against the tile. 
These weren't the crappy homestore dishes she had grown up with.  These
were all hand blown glass and extremely expensive.

   Christine glared at me and threw a bowl down to shatter.

   "Enough!" I screamed.  "Stop it."

   She was doing this just to piss me off and now she smashed another
plate.

   I launched myself at her and she ran.  I tackled her before she could
get out of the kitchen.  In a single motion I yanked her pants down and
almost all the way off.  She knew what was going to happen, and she had
done it anyway.  I knew what hurt her, and I intended to hurt her again.

   I didn't bother with subtlety.  I shoved one finger right into her
asshole.  This time she didn't scream out loud.  She bit it back and
wouldn't let it out.  She tried to roll and kick, but I held her tight.  My
punishment wasn't enough.  I didn't want to physically damage her.  I
reached up into the kitchen cabinet and grabbed a small bottle of olive
oil. It was messy, but I got plenty on her ass.

   Then I began to work a second finger in.  She was sobbing heavily, but
quietly.  She was choking back all the sound.  She was prepared for this
pain as was prepared to fight it.

   I kept working my second finger in, trying not to tear her, but teach
her a real good lesson.  I was lying over her half naked body as she
squirmed while pinned to the floor.  My cock grew rock hard and pressed
against her slender body as I wrestled with her.

   Two fingers were not enough to make her give in.  I was starting to
sweat from exertion.  Why should I have to do this?  Why should I put up
with her, like she was my obnoxious wife, when I got nothing out of it?  It
wouldn't matter if I used my fingers or something else.  At least I would
enjoy the something else.

   In the heat of a half naked wrestling match it might have seemed like a
good idea to slide my zipper down and pull my hard cock out.  Christine
couldn't see it and wouldn't know what it was anyway.

   My hand slipped free from her ass and I slid my body over her to pin her
down.  She still fought.  My cock pulled me forward like a tow cable.  I
had to quickly slip one hand between us to make sure my dick didn't end up
in her pussy.  It was all so slippery, soft, tight and hot down there that
I wasn't sure that I cared.

   I couldn't feel a hole, but I kept pushing harder until the head of my
penis popped into someplace very tight and hot.  Christine screamed out,
but it was too late for her to give up.

   I didn't have to thrust or push deeper.  The motions of her squirming
and all the wrestling we had done to work me up; I was ready to cum
immediately.  My cock began to pulse and throb.  I could feel the muscles
in my pelvis straining to push gobs of goop into such a tight hole.  I have
had many hot women in many hot positions before, but nothing made me come
close to losing my mind like this did.

   The higher you fly, the harder you crash.

   Half my weight was resting on a crying, screaming, half naked little
girl.  My dick was quickly shriveling up and slipped free in a slippery
mess.  I lifted myself off of her enough that she scrambled out and ran for
her bathroom.  I sat back and tried to clean myself with her torn pants.

   I didn't own a gun, but I wondered where I could buy one so I could
shoot myself.

   I always thought that I was the good guy.  Now I knew that I was street
scum; a bacterial fungus of some disgusting type.  I walked to my bathroom
and washed my disgustingly evil and vile dick.  I then crawled into bed and
rocked myself to sleep.

   The next morning I woke up long enough to call in sick.  I woke up again
when I heard the front door slam as Christine left for school.  It then
dawned on me that I was a full blown child molester.  I had raped a child.
I had raped a ten year old little girl.  I had sodomized a prepubescent
child.  I had fucked my own niece in the ass.

   As soon as she got to school, Christine would tell someone, and the
police would probably be knocking on my door within the hour.  In prison, I
would be the guy they practiced stabbing, before they stabbed somebody
important.  If I was unlucky, I would live more than a month.

   Despite my extreme depression and self hate, I managed to go to sleep
again.  I woke again after noon and dragged myself from bed.  I couldn't
sleep anymore so I went out to clean up all the glass in the kitchen.  The
cops hadn't shown up yet, so that was a good sign.

   By three o'clock I was tired of banging around inside my head and I
decided to go pick Christine up from school.  At the school, she saw me and
the bus at the same time, but chose to come to my car.  She wouldn't look
me in the face and I didn't expect her to.

   On the way home I made a lame comment on the weather.  Christine picked
up on it and started a conversation.  I was relieved that she might be able
to forgive me, but felt guilty enough that I didn't want forgiveness.  That
evening, neither one of us looked at the other's face and we went about our
separate ways inside the house.

   The next day was more normal, but I took off from work early to pick
Christine at school again.  The ride home was filled with the pleasant
small talk I had hoped for.  When I pulled up into the driveway and
stopped, Christine got out from the passenger door, and tripped.  Her books
spilled across the driveway and she landed on her hands.

   She jumped up and slammed the door, and then started kicking it.  She
was kicking the door of my new Mustang.  I walked around slowly toward her.
She was putting a really big dent in the door, and she wasn't stopping. 
She was a terrible actress.  I wasn't angry at all.

   I knelt in the driveway beside her.  "Do you want me to punish you?" I
asked gently.

   "No" she screamed as she kicked the door again.  Then, under her breath,
"yes."

   I was shocked.  "You want me to hurt you?"

   "Noooo" she whined.  Tears were starting to form.

   I felt a cold chill at my next thought.  "Do you like the pain?"

   Her eyes widened in fear.

   "No" She shook her head.  "Not the pain.  Please not the pain.  I like
the other thing."

   "What other thing?" I was really confused.

   "It also made me feel really good inside." She still hadn't looked me in
the eyes.  She looked off into space and whispered.  "You feel good inside
me."

   You can guess where this might go, if you want me to finish it.  Email:
pedrofeelya@gmail.com