by Sarah
Story Codes: ggg/F, gdom,
ped, nc,
bd, sad, rim.
Warning: The narrative deals with underage persons; if you find
this offensive, then please don’t read it.
The following story is a purely fictional account. Any
relationship to any real person living or dead is absolutely coincidental. The narrative deals with underage persons and
the author in no way condones or promotes such acts, this is a work of fiction.
Summary: A piano teacher is abducted by her young, pre-teen female
students, then kept as a sex-toy and subjected to continued abuse, torture,
humiliation and degradation by the girls and their friends.
♥
Jenny sat with her feet, in their pretty lace-topped white
ankle-socks, between the grown woman’s boobies. She had taken off her panties
and sat her little eight-year-old ass right down on the sobbing woman’s face.
Now she was busy wriggling her butt so her helpless slave’s nose and mouth went
deeper into her butt-crack. Jenny wanted her actual butt-hole kissed and
that’s all there was too it. When the girls wanted something from their
grown-up toy, they always got it.
‘Kiss my butt-hole toy,’
Jenny giggled, ‘an that is sooo
gross but I’m gonna make you do much worse stuff after’.
Then the eight-year-old
went back to lashing her captive’s breasts with her riding-crop. Emily Devallier, at thirty-four, was enduring a sudden and
unexpected career change. From respected piano teacher, to a
real-live toy, used solely for amusement by a gang of spoilt prepubescent
girls. She was naked, and bound so skillfully that movement, let alone escape, was impossible. She could barely breathe now, then she felt her lips touch the horrid girl’s anus – and
she kissed it. Then the next instruction came.
Jenny squealed with delight as she felt
her plaything’s tongue wriggle and squirm its way deep into her ass. Even
though Jenny was only eight, she had masturbated about making Miss Devallier do this to her since her first lesson. She even
talked to some of her friends about it. Stephanie, who was ten, said it was
sick and disgusting, but only: IF YOU WERE THE ONE THAT HAD TO DO THE
LICKING!! And then they all laughed. But Jenny now owned the useless
thirty-four-year-old bitch, and she was helpless and couldn’t say no - in fact,
she couldn’t say no to anything Jenny wanted anymore. Which was just sooo cool. So the
poor wretch squirmed under the little girl’s ass cheeks, desperately trying to
jam her tongue deeper into her pre-teen owner’s butt-hole all the while trying
to avoid the evil sting of the crop as it sliced at her breasts. The toy’s
pitiful screams and begging moans were muffled by Jenny’s little ass as the
sadistic young girl bounced happily on her new slave’s face.
Jenny was a very naughty girl, and she
knew it. But she had always gotten away with everything – so why should now be
any different? Life’s very simple when you’re eight, mostly divided into what
you can do and what you can’t do, what you’ll be allowed to do, and what you
wont – and – what stuff you’ll get into trouble for. It seemed to Jenny that
piano teachers were boring and useless, so that was okay, and Miss Devallier had no family or anything, so she was just being
wasted really. Well Jenny had solved all that. Now Miss Devallier
was being very useful, giving all the girls so much fun – much better
than her stupid piano lessons. And, although Jenny couldn’t be sure, maybe mom
didn’t mind. After all, when that man came asking about Miss Devallier mom had told him that she never arrived for the
lesson. That was odd. Anyway, this was the best game Jenny ever thought up, and
that’s all that mattered.
Teasing was always fun, so every now and again Jenny would lift her
little sweaty butt off Miss Devallier’s silly mouth
just long enough to listen to her begging and crying. Jenny loved to hear her do that, she never answered though, she just giggled and sat
back down again. Now her butt was all slippery and squelchy
from Miss Devallier’s licking and from sweat – it was
hot work riding the licking-pony (that was Lisa’s cool name for this game).
Jenny reached for a Diet-Pepsi on the table by her bed. As she rolled
sideways there was a slurping sound as the licking-pony’s face pulled out from
her butt-cheeks – Jenny laughed, nearly choking on her Pepsi, and some even
came out of her nose. And Miss Devallier gasping for
air was funny too, but it didn’t last long as Jenny wriggled her hips and
settled down to play licking-pony some more. It was a totally cool game and she
would play it for hours.
Emily tried to concentrate. She was
struggling to hold on to her sanity, she knew instinctively that she had to
reduce her new world to manageable chunks if she was to survive. ‘The small
picture,’ she repeated over and over in her mind. Emily focused on pushing her
tongue out further, (ignoring the aching pain in her jaw). She also
concentrated on twirling her tongue as it went deeper into… well… just deeper.
Where her tongue was buried, and what was pressing down onto her face making
her struggle for breath, well, that was the big picture – if she thought about
that she would go mad. So she concentrated on the task at hand, and stopping
that whip. It was all about stopping that whip.
Three lessons was
all she had given the children. They had seemed nice; attentive; polite even,
just as you would expect of girls from wealthy families. The eight year-olds
had asked her questions – was she married? Did she have any children? Any
little girls like them? Emily patiently explained that she lived alone, and had
no family, but that she wasn’t lonely or sad, because she loved her work. And no
(in answer to Jennifer’s unrelenting questioning), she didn’t have many
friends. She was just too busy, that was all.
Everything had seemed normal. Twenty
minutes into the third lesson the girls had said they were thirsty. They ran
through the large house to the kitchen and came back with a glass of soda each,
and one for Emily. It was hot so she readily accepted, sipping at it while she
explained the importance of Middle-C, and then ran though the basic scales
again.
After a while the keys blurred and Emily
felt a little light-headed. It was a hot day, but the house was well
air-conditioned – perhaps it was something she ate? Emily remembered asking one
of the girls to fetch Jennifer’s mother, but they seem to just stare at her,
smiling. Then she just sort of slid gently sideways from the piano stool and
lay on the floor. The girls helped her to her feet and said they were taking
her to see Jennifer’s mom, so she went, leaning on the little girls and
struggling to take each stair at a time. Why were they going upstairs? Why
didn’t Jennifer’s mother come down? Perhaps she didn’t understand how sick Emily
was. The last thing Emily remembered was being lowered onto a bed; then she
passed out.
Emily floated in and out of
consciousness. She was dimly aware of being handled, someone was loosening her
clothes – that was a good idea when someone faints… wasn’t it? There were sounds of giggling – young girl’s giggling – which was
strange.
Emily came round slowly, at first
confused, and then frightened. She thought she was paralyzed, she couldn’t move
her arms or legs, there was something in her mouth.
Then she was fully awake and her conscious mind pulled all the pieces together
that her sub-conscious had treated as a hazy dream. She was tied. Emily could
feel the thin cord on her wrists, which were behind her back. She could also
feel it around her ankles, and she was gagged; cloth of some sort. As she
jerked her head forward she could see she was naked. Then panic set in and she
began to thrash, tugging at the rope, but that just made it tighter. Then Emily
saw the girls, looking down at her with smug, pleased smiles.
‘Hi Miss Devallier,’
said a grinning Jennifer, ‘guess wot? You aren’t a
boring piano teacher anymore, you are gonna be our new best toy’. With that
they all laughed.
The idea that this was a sick joke wore
off after a few days. Emily was kept naked and tied in Jennifer’s closet, amid
a jumble of shoes, clothes and toys. The girls used extra rope to bind her to
the lower rail of the clothes-rack so she could barely move – and the gag
(which they had told her with much amusement was dirty, white school sock) was
very effective. The only person (apart from the girls) who ever came into
Jennifer’s bedroom was the maid, she never went in the closet, and if she ever
noticed the muffled sounds she ignored them. Still, Emily felt this couldn’t go
on long, by now she had left any ideas of punishing the girls behind and would
just settle for an end to this humiliating prank, but things took a turn for
the worse, not better.
They started beating her. At first it
was on impulse – Jennifer, Lisa and another girl Emily didn’t recognize had
dragged her out of the closet and were staring down at
her grinning, which had been the routine for several days. Then they dragged
her to the base of Jennifer’s bed, tying one ankle to the bed. Jennifer
hesitated, as if she was just making this up as she went along, then she
quickly untied Emily’s ankles. Emily tried to make her move but her legs were
numb from not moving, and besides, her right ankle was still tied to the bed.
The girls moved quickly, pulling their captive’s left leg wide, then tying it
to the other side of the bed. Emily felt different almost immediately, acutely
aware that things had taken a decidedly different turn, with her legs spread
and her naked vagina completely exposed to the stares of the little girls the
sexual overtones were hard to miss. Jennifer stepped between the helpless
woman’s spread legs, and just stood there as if unsure what to do next. She was
wearing white running shoes with pink stripes, and white ankle socks – then she
just lifted one foot, and kicked Emily in the groin. The toe-punt caught Emily
just below her vagina and she groaned in agony, lifting her shoulders off the
carpet. The girls just laughed, which was worse then the pain and humiliation –
they were enjoying it. Jennifer’s second blow was a stamping action, as if
Emily’s genitals were a bug she was squishing.
Jenny had thought about hurting her new
toy a lot, she had even sat with Lisa and Hannah drawing pictures of how to
hurt a grownup. But now she was actually doing it… well… it was even more fun
than she thought it would be. Watching Miss Devallier’s
eyes roll back, and that stupid moaning noise was just too funny, and she burst
out laughing. The prepubescent terror stomped her helpless victim’s cunny bits several times, then ground them with the
serrated sole of her running shoe.
‘Cool,’ said Lisa, her eyes all wide and
excited, ‘we should get a whip or something’.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Hannah. ‘Maybe we could
train her to do stuff, like a pet or something.
Jenny laughed, and stomped menacingly to
her closet, where she opened a drawer and took out her riding crop.
‘This will do nicely for toy training I
think,’ she said, swishing the crop through the air. The girl’s new pet shut
her eyes tight. ‘No!’ shouted Jenny, lashing the woman’s legs, ‘never shut your
eyes less we tell you to, you got to look at us when we play wiv you – understand?’ The toy nodded and opened its eyes.
Jenny gave the stupid woman her best angry stare, right in the eyes, with her
cheeks puffed out and everything. ‘Good,’ the eight year-old said. ‘Now… what
shall we teach her to do?’
‘Something gross,’ said Hannah.
‘Yeah, really gross,’ added Lisa. ‘Like… kissing our feet’.
The girls took off their shoes and socks
and stood over their toy, who had started trembling
and crying as she looked up at the three evilly grinning little faces. This
just excited Jenny even more, it was cool knowing the
toy was scared. Scaring her was nearly as much fun as hurting her – but not
quite.
‘If you make a noise we will kill you an bury you in the woods,’ said Jenny in her most menacing
voice. She wouldn’t really kill the toy, that was wrong, but it shut her up.
Jenny bent down and untied the long sports sock from around the toy’s head, and
pulled the little white one out of its mouth – it was wet and horrid so she
threw it in the laundry basket. Then Lisa placed her foot over the toy’s mouth,
Miss Devallier was whimpering a bit, but she wasn’t
shouting or anything, just like she’d been told.
‘Kiss my foot toy,’ said Lisa, and the
woman did. ‘Again!’ said Lisa, giggling.
‘Yuk that’s gross,’ said Hannah, ‘I
would hate to be a slave’.
‘Let me have a go,’ said Jenny
excitedly. She placed her naked little foot over Miss Devallier’s
mouth and made her kiss the sole. Jenny wriggled her toes looking at the
glitter-pink nail polish. It had taken her ages to put on, and she’d done it
very carefully, it hardly went over the edges at all. Without warning Jenny
shoved her toes in the toy’s mouth. ‘Suck them,’ she giggled, ‘suck my pretty
toes toy’. Miss Devallier started making noises like
when she had her gag in, but she just lay there with Jenny’s foot in her mouth.
Jenny just grinned and whacked one of the toy’s boobies with the crop. ‘Suck!’
she commanded. ‘Suck your owner’s toes you loser’. The woman did as she was
told and the other girls clapped and laughed.
‘What’s it like,’ asked Hannah
excitedly.
‘Really cool,’ said Jenny, ‘it’s all
warm an squishy, an you can wriggle your toes while
they’re in there’.
‘Can I have a go,’ Hannah asked, placing
her naked foot on Miss Devallier’s cheek.
‘Sure,’ said Jenny casually, ‘we can do it as much as we like –
I’m gonna do it every day so my feet are always nice an
clean’. She pulled out her wet little foot and dried her toes on the toy’s
hair. Hannah stuck hers in so quick the toy hardly had time to let out a little
moan. Miss Devallier’s mouth was full of little toes
again and she looked really miserable about it, which made sense to Jenny
because sucking little girl’s feet (especially when they haven’t washed them)
was totally gross. But she liked it that her toy wasn’t having fun, that was
how it was supposed to be. Toys weren’t allowed to have any fun at all, they were for having fun with.
(End of Part One)
Sarah x