Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. =================== The Reins of Power ==================== --------------------- by Jean-Michel Maserati --------------------- Warning ====== Just to make it perfectly clear up front. This tale contains explicit sex scenes; if you find such descriptions offensive, I suggest you leave the site now. Also, if for any reason whatsoever you should not be permitted access to this material (for example, due to your age and/or the laws of the area where you either live or are currently staying) then you should quit now. I can and will take no responsibility for any consequences if you don't. ------------------------------------------------ The death of old Simeon Waterstaff had resulted in a very nasty little war of succession. All sorts of groupings were eager to fill the vacuum left when the biggest wheel in the area was unexpectedly taken out of the equation. And not by anything untoward, either - he succumbed to a perfectly ordinary heart attack. So, for a short while, all his lieutenants had been looking to take the largest possible slice of his inheritance, while combining to try to ward off the attempts of other outside groups to muscle in and get a piece of the action. Lord knows I'm not exactly whiter than white myself, but some of the things going on there were really beyond the pale. It was a period of six vicious months which I honestly feared I might not live through - so many people were disappearing or simply being shot down. Simeon had been unique: he dealt with both the Pakistanis and the Chinese, without pissing either off. He was respected by both the Russian and Italian mobs. He let the volatile Jamaicans have their bit of the trade, never coming to a fight with the people he really considered dangerous. And crucial to his power base were the big - but lucrative - payoffs to the assiduously cultivated law enforcement officers and other authorities in the area: nobody else screwed with Waterstaff, or you might find your best men being arrested. And lastly of course, Simeon didn't antagonize the underworld leaders from the neighbouring cities: he had his patch, he stuck to it, and he ruled it like a king. Well, to cut a long story short, the position of trust that I had built up inside the old man's organization stood me in good stead. It took half a year or more before a new status quo emerged. And I was on top - the situation was far from perfect, but slowly settling. Three others of Simeon's top men had left the scene: Severin had eliminated Peters rather bloodily, after which the rest of us had decided he was a loose cannon we didn't need... may he rest in peace. Kelly had overstepped the mark with some dragon-tattooed dealer and had lost his head - literally. And a couple of others had decided to exit stage left of their own free will, once I had threatened to disclose their own extra-curricular activities; Simeon wouldn't have been so merciful and they knew it. More worrying was that Fat Alfie, whose patch bordered over half my territory, was sticking his finger in the pie: he was responsible for the plod not doing what they were told any more, I was certain, as well as stoking the fires with the bloody Tongs or whatever they were (another distraction I didn't need). But I handled it all in the end, I think... The last piece of the jigsaw was Walker. He had been a very naughty boy, I had found out. Not only did he have his undoubtedly perfectly good salary as a chief superintendent plus a healthy bit of graft from Simeon, the greedy chap had been on the take from Alfie too, as well as going into business for himself trying to dispose of the stuff his men had confiscated from my suppliy lines. He needed to be taught a lesson, tamed, brought back into line. Tricky though: even Simeon couldn't have just whacked a top copper and reckoned to get away with it. And outbidding the others wasn't going to work: this guy was too greedy, he'd keep upping the stakes. It's a question of finding the way to unlock the man... and I knew just how to do it. I keep tabs on everybody. ------- We met early one evening as usual at the meat packing plant. I was playing mind games: Simeon had always used the director's office there at the meat factory, and so now I'd do the same - sitting in his old chair, at the same desk, turning up in the same Jag he had favoured. We'd had a meaningless chat, and then gone off from the luxurious office into the huge cold store to handle business as the old man had always done: a simple spartan table, a few chairs, steaming coffee. Businesslike. No chance of any bugs. And an abattoir floor gets routinely covered in blood, is routinely washed down. And this was big enough to keep your men in line of sight, without them being close enough to overhear. Simeon's traditional, familiar pattern. That smarmy fucker Walker was upping the price he wanted from me, denying some of his other activites (even though the fat man from the next patch along had told me face to face what was going on when we'd patched up our differences). He just sat there smugly in his thick sheepskin coat, sipping my coffee and brandy, playing it cool. He didn't realise the trouble he was in until I gave a pre-arranged hand signal to Tommy and Wiz, who came up behind him menacingly. He began to bluster in confusion as they stood him up and removed his overcoat, then his suit jacket and tie. What was going on - we couldn't treat him like this - he only was asking for his fair share - what point were we trying to make - and so on. I sat back on the cheap plastic seat, feeling the back bend precariously, taking my time and letting him start to feel the cold (the point of the exercise - more power games, that was all). "Walker," I said, blowing out a plume of smoke and sipping the rapidly cooling coffee. "You just haven't got the message, have you, you brainless plonker?" He scowled at the insult, but my men were ready and waiting should be lose his cool. "You're off Alfie's payroll," I continued. "Your own little sideline is going to stop, or you'll have the Jamaicans on your back" and they're not so squeamish as I am." He was suddenly starting to look frightened instead of confident - the ruddy face beneath the fading blond hair going paler. "And your take from my payroll is going to be halved: if I can't trust you, we'll just give you enough to keep you quiet." He spluttered and objected indignantly throughout this, but I ignored him. "And just to make sure, my boys have gotten a little surprise for you." In fact, it turned out that Tommy had gilded the lily a bit, made it rather more than I had said. He's got a feeling for how to make people feel stupid, a real psychologist I reckon. So, to my mild surprise, the first thing that happened was that one of the Eastern European whores from Tommy's club appeared, all dressed in a warm fur coat, but open at the front revealing that she had nothing else but a choker on underneath. Walker wasn't impressed (presumably thinking we were videoing the proceedings somwehere to blackmail him later, or something, don't ask me) but my lads left him no choice: he had to stand there while this peroxide blonde tart unbuttoned his shirt, then undid his trousers and boxers and pulled them down to his ankles and proceeded to give him an expert blow job while I repeated the instructions about his future. It's difficult to argue when it's zero degrees and you're standing there virtually naked with a gun in your ear and a scantily clad hooker sucking on your dick. Then the real surprise, the one to put the frighteners on him. The meat conveyor started up with a series of clunks and squeaks and twenty feet away from us the carcasses began to move. Each one swinging out a little before whipping round to head off down the line. The prostitute had timed it perfectly. Just as he was about to come, the sixth hook swung into view. No dead pig or cow on this one: hanging from it by her wrists was a teenage girl in school uniform. His daughter, bound and gagged. Walker pulled jerkily out of the hooker's mouth, semen still coming; his attempt to turn away only making him trip up over the trousers round his ankles and fall heavily. The Slavic girl with the fake fair hair, clearly enjoying the moment, spat the rest of his load out all over his shirt, then rinsed her mouth out with some coffee. She stood for a few seconds facing me (and the youngster suspended from the hooks) silently, with her hands on her hips and making no further effort to cover up her nakedness under the black fur coat. I gave her a smile and a little nod - she'd done well; a mental note to remind Tommy to give her a bonus of some sort. The others left. I just sat there, listening to the not-so-touching scene as Walker pulled himself together somehow and went over to his terrified daughter. He was trying partly to bluff his way out, partly to deny he was in cahoots with these known criminals, partly to ask whether she was all right... The poor youngster was wide-eyed with fright, not only from the original kidnap but I guess also from seeing a new side of her supposedly law-abiding family-man masonic-handshake Daddy. Naked, with his prick in a hooker's mouth, consorting with known criminals, cheating on her mother. Walker moved to take the duct tape off her mouth, but I called out to him to leave it: not for any particular reason, just asserting who was boss again. I lit another cigarette and gave them a couple of minutes, just thinking how ridiculously easy it had been. My files had told me that Alexandra May Walker, sixteen and in her GCSE year, was at a very posh public school, for very well brought-up young ladies with well-to-do parents. Well, it was no surprise Superintendent Walker had some pretty expensive tastes: he'd been on Simeon's payroll for nearly twenty years, by my reckoning - and he'd done nicely from it, too. Some early busts helping Waterstaff make his way to the top had made Walker quite a celebrity at one point, and he'd married a rather beautiful redheaded TV news presenter... that kind of wife is a highmaintenance object as well, of course, not to mention house, a pretty young child who was the apple of her father's eye, schooling, holidays, you name it. Well, he'd gotten too greedy: might have to economize now. Still, for me, having the girl at a school so close at hand had been useful. And a posh place like that didn't think twice about letting one of their pupils go off with the two policemen (getting hold of a fake squad car and a couple of uniforms and Ids was no trouble for a useful man like Wiz). Yes Sir, of course Sir, we know Daddy's a top copper so it's not so surprising a police car comes to pick up his darling girl... Once outside the gate, a quick dab of chloroform and half an hour later she's coming round slowly, duct tape round wrists and aknles and over her mouth, hanging from the meat-hooks in the cold and dark, scared shitless, desperately uncomfortable. And then faced with seeing her Daddy in a totally new light: a subservient and frightened figure. I listened to him talking to her, saying he was sorry, how it would have to be a secret, that they must pretend that this evening had simply never happened, he was really sorry, these men were very dangerous and she shouldn't antagonize them, that he was oh so sorry... I had heard enough. I called out to him. "All right Walker, that's enough. Now piss off and think yourself lucky you're still on half pay." He all but ran out of the warehouse. ------- Once he was gone, I lifted the trembling girl down off the hook, holding her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She was still bound up, and clearly rather cold, so I carried her back to the warm director's office in the adjoining building. I sat her on the big red leather semicircular sofa in the bay window, undid her hands and put a warming drink next to her while I went off for a piss and then came back to make a couple of phone calls to my paymaster and so forth - putting Walker's demotion into immediate effect, bringing Fat Alfie up to date, telling the lads outside they could go home for the evening and I'd run Alexandra back to school in the Jag later, since it was almost on the way home for me. The kidnap had served it purpose; I could let her go now. "No, Tommy, I'm going to take the girl. Just warm her up a bit first. You go have some fun at the club - I'll catch you later. Or in the morning." The school was only twenty minutes away, and coincidentally barely five from my country house and I could easily stay there. "OK boss. Shall I ring one of the clubs and get them to send a couple of girls round there?" He was right; seeing Tanya performing sexual acts like that with Walker had left me feeling a little horny. "Yeah, treat myself to a bit of fun. Celebrate having gotten this problem fixed. Tell you what, I'll take sort out the girl here first and let you know later." "Fine boss. See you in the morning." "Cheers." I poured a last coffee for myself, gave the sullen young blonde another cup which she accepted gratefully, and sat opposite her. I gave her a cigarette too, when she reached out for the packet - odd; I'd not have though Walker would let her smoke. Maybe he didn't, but sixteen year olds have a tendency to make up their own minds about these things. I tried to chat a little, but she was still very scared. Her answers were curt and monosyllabic, though polite. She kept calling me 'Sir', which amused me. Like her dad's junior officers or something. She may not have known exactly who I was, but she'd got the picture: an underworld figure who could order a high cop about like that was definitely scary. "Warmed up a bit now, Alexandra?" I finally asked her. "Lexy," I corrected myself - the preferred short form of her name being one of the few things I'd gotten out of her in the last ten minutes. "S'pose so, yes, Sir," she said looking at the floor. "What next?" I smiled. "I'm going to take you for a little ride, my dear." She looked at the floor, shaking her head very gently. "Come on, girl," I said kindly. "Aren't you ready for it yet?" She looked up, staring not at me but fixing her big blue eyes on a point on the wall above my head, seemingly on the verge of tears. Her slightly thin lips were pursed into a tight line, the muscles round her jawline tensing as she clenched her teeth. "Lexy, I can call the fake coppers back if you'd rather. I'm sure they'd oblige." The teenager's eyes widened, and she shook her head vigorously, pale blonde locks swishing from side to side. I remembered her mother from the TV - very similar sharply-defined and pointed features. But redheaded: Alexandra had gotten her height at athleticism and pale blonde colouring from her father, that was for sure. "No Sir, no," she said quickly. "Please, I don't..." I held up a placating hand. "All right, I'll take you on my own. Willingly though, please. No fuss. Remember, I can't make you come." I downed my coffee and stood up, car keys in hand. "Right. Time for some action." ----- What I saw was action of a sort I hadn't expected. Alexandra sat looking at the floor for a moment, then said, "Very well. I haven't much choice, have I?" "Nope." She stood up, taking off first her black school uniform blazer and then removing the red waistcoat-style cardigan beneath it, before starting fumbling with the buttons of her prim white blouse. For a moment I just thought she was straightening herself up, but then I was nonplussed to see that she was actually unbuttoning it. "He said I had to pretend tonight never happened," she said as if to herself, her voice on the edge of cracking. "You heard him. Do whatever they tell you. A secret..." Tears were running softly down her cheeks as she carefully untucked the blouse from her dark grey skirt and opened it at the front to reveal a lithe and slender torso with not an excess ounce of fat on the frame, and a plain white cross-your-heart type bra over her petite but beautifully shaped breasts. "What next, Sir?" I was gobsmacked. Astounded. Flabbergasted. Then it sank in. Her father's admonitions, combined with her fear, probably with all sorts of things she'd been told at the girls' school or by her mother warning her about What Men Want. And she was certainly highly attractive - probably had enough young lads interested in her by now to be well aware of the fact. And the sexual nature of the tableau in the cold store. It all added up: Alexandra believed she had been brought up to the plush office so that the boss man could rape her. An extra perk of the job for him, another expression of the control he held over the Walker family. She had reluctantly decided that cooperation was the least of the evils on offer. I tried to remember exactly what I'd been saying. "I'm going to take the girl - you guys have your good time at the club..." "Treat myself to a bit of fun." "I'm going to take you for a little ride..." "Aren't you ready for it yet?" "I can call the fake coppers back if you'd rather. I'm sure they'd oblige." "I'll take you myself. Willingly though, please. No fuss." "Remember, I can't make you come." "Let's see some action." Jesus, she'd gotten completely the wrong end of the stick. In spades. Be a good girl and go to bed with this man, or face gang rape by him and his henchmen. So by getting up and starting to undress, she'd made her choice. I began to realize that I could do whatever I wanted with this youngster. And indeed - what better way to finish off Walker than to make damaged goods out of the one thing he held most dear? And she'd already said she knew it had to be kept quiet. Oh my God, this was a glorious feeling. What a stupendous sense of power. I looked across at her. Why not? Why not indeed - she was every bit as pretty as any of the girls I could have called on: a bit on the slender side, but well shaped. I preferred that to the girls at the clubs, who were either big-titted slappers or skinny heroin whores from the Balkans. A treat indeed! But it was a dilemma nonetheless. I'm a hard and uncompromising man living in a tough and ruthless world: we're used to the threat of violence, the risk of imprisonment, money and drugs, plenty of birds in the clubs if I wanted a nice simple fuck for the night. We thought nothing of arranging a beating, paying off the fuzz, walking around armed as a matter of routine. But one thing we didn't do was interfere with other people's womenfolk, take advantage of them. That leads to vendettas. And in the milieu and in the jails and on the streets, the lowest of the low are the child abusers. This girl was sixteen and legal, by just a few weeks, but nonetheless - standing there in her black and red school uniform and white blouse and socks, she looked like a young kid. Tempting as she was, it would ruin my reputation if I were to be thought of as a child rapist. I had to be careful. ------- "What next, Sir?" she repeated anxiously, bringing me out of my reverie. God, she was cute. I was being offered pussy on a plate, it had the added advantage of hurting that bastard Walker... I decided to play it for what it was worth. "Glad to see you've made the sensible decision, Lexy," I said. "Crossing me isn't a good move, as your father is now probably all too uncomfortably aware. Not just a pretty face." I looked the teenage schoolgirl up and down. "Hmm. Lose the blouse, blondie, and drop the skirt. Then we can see what kind of a figure you've got." She bit her lip and obeyed hesitantly - knowing there was much more and much worse to come - and stood there embarrassed and uncertain in her plain white underwear while a man she didn't know sized her up. Apart from white ankle socks and shiny black shoes, the only things she had on apart from her undies were here jewelry and the silk scarf in red and black (the school colours) that was still round her neck. Alexandra Walker was quite tall, perhaps five eight, and had long slimb limbs with an even tan (more expensive holidays I'd paid for, no doubt) and a delicate elegance and balanced poise and motion that I would more normally have associated with an older woman. But the narrow waist and hips showed she was still a youngster. Flat stomach, slightly protruding hipbones: some teenagers have puppy-fat, others are thin - she was in the latter group. A very pretty little thing. "You'll do nicely." Then I saw the goose pimples on her arms. It wasn't exactly warm here, so I thought I'd give her a minute to calm down. Simeon had a shower en-suite from his office: the abattoir workers needed them, so it had cost almost nothing extra to put a little branch pipework up to his office too. "Okay, blondie. I'm going to take a shower here next door - it's been a long tough day and I need it. You draw the curtains - that'll help it get warmer here - and crank the thermostat up as far as you like. The canteen's over opposite that door: make some more coffee and so on, see what you can find for us to eat." I grinned at her from the doorway as I went towards the little bathroom. "Do you want to be the aperitif or the dessert?" Blushing furiously, she turned away and picked up her blouse. "Leave that, Walker" I called out, consciously echoing the words she'd heard me use to her father. "Your underwear is more than enough for me. Get used to it - maybe make the next step easier." ------- I had my shower, and indeed by the time I came back into the office wearing just a navy blue towelling housecoat, the place was much warmer. I sat back on Simeon's big red leather swivel chair while Alexandra obediently trotted round pouring me a coffee and a brandy. I made her stop and kiss me. Wel, she was no expert but at least she knew what it was about. And the feel of that soft warm skin and the delicate musculature beneath my fingers - absolutely delectable. My fingers ran up and down her arms and over her shoulders, but I left it at that for now. Plenty of time. The young blonde was no longer quite so self-conscious of her provocative state of undress, bringing in a bottle of wine and a couple of beers and various sandwiches she'd been able to make from the bits and pieces in the refrigerator, coming over to the desk for another quick kiss and cuddle when told to do so. She didn't even object much to a playful slap on the bum as she left again to fetch the cutlery. A new idea crossed my mind. "Alexandra? Lexy?" "Yes, Sir?" "Are you a virgin?" Silence, extending a couple of seconds. Just sixteen, middle-class parents, well brought-up, at the right school... not like the girls in the tough area where I'd grown up, or the prematurely experience call girls in my bars and clubs or the desperate hookers coming in off the streets or from the old Iron Curtain countries. I'd not popped a cherry in probably twenty years... and Alexandra surely would be. "Yes." In a very small voice, she confirmed my guess. So much for me needing a condom - she'd be clean (I wasn't exactly bothered about protecting her) and I could have the increasingly rare and natural pleasure of going in bareback. "Well, in that case I'll save that pleasure till dessert," I smiled. It would let her have a glass or two of Dutch courage if she wanted. However, I had a monstrous erection that didn't want to wait. "But now for the aperitif," I said, beckoning her over to the desk. Her blue eyes widened, but she obeyed, standing there opposite me. "Sit on the edge. Facing away. Now lie back." Her head came over the edge of the desk, long blonde locks cascading almost to the floor, her arms coming naturally over her head to hold the arms of my chair. I stroked her long arms, then knelt on the floor so that our faces were level, but hers was upside down. Made for an interesting kiss. I could stroke her face, kiss her pale extended neck, and then work my way down her body as I stood up, hands over the collar bones, round the outside of the ribcage, featherlight over the taut material of her white bra, feeling her stiffen and hold her breath until my roving fingertips retreated. I stood back and unloosened the sash of the housecoat. She was at the perfect height. "Open your mouth." She shook her head and made as if to get up, but a hand on either shoulder made that impossible. She bowed to the inevitable. The blue material fell heavily apart and my young virgin prize was treated to her first close-up of a man's erection, just inches from her face. She squealed, but didn't dare move away. "Just be glad I had a shower," I laughed. "You know you're supposed to suck, eh? Even though it's called a blow job? You just take in as much as you can." I placed the head of my rampant hard-on into that wide-lipped mouth with its perfect white teeth... teeth... "And if you use your teeth, you'll wish you'd never been born. And when I come, you swallow it." Just as well I'd told her what to do: she'd not have had a clue otherwise. A real innocent. But soon my dick was sliding nicely in and out of her mouth, while I bent forward and let my hands explore that splendid young body a little more, stroking more firmly over the bra material now... Feeling the nipples through the thin material. Letting my fingertips slide down over that smooth flat stomach to where the panties were stretched across the hipbones so tight that they barely contacted the skin. "Lift your legs up, Lexy." She could just get her feet up onto the desk edge, knees clamped together. Tense, she stopped sucking and waited for the inevitable spreading. I put my hands between her thighs, back to back and prised her legs apart, stretching forward rather hard so that her neck was twisted right back and my prick pushing right into her throat. Back to the waistband of her knickers: yes, slide the fingertips inside and probe down over the mons veneris, feeling coarse hairs crinkling under my fingertips, heading on towards the moist juicy warmth between her legs. A more frantic slap on the arse. Superb - another centimetre, I was almost there... I found the soft folds of flesh, probed in to find the clitoris. She squirmed, fingers groping my buttocks hard as her body fought for air but simultaneously shivered at the adrenalin rush of the sex act. I came copiously and satisfyingly, then withdrew from her mouth and sat back on the swivel seat. Alexandra rolled over onto her front, then slid down backwards off the desk, standing in front of it, breathing heavily and supporting her weight with her hands on the green paper blotter. "Very good for a first time," I said condescendingly. "Did you come?" "You certainly did," was her only reply. She ripped the corner off the blotter and wiped her glistening lips with it. I was almost ashamed of myself: I had intended it to be just a little bit of get-to-know-you kind of fun, establishing who was the top dog, not needing a johnny (though I had some at home, of course). But I'd lost control and it had turned into a hardcore violation that most of the whores in the clubs would have wanted extra for. That shouldn't have been the poor girl's first experience... she'd soon be thinking that her teachers were right about all men being animals. Still, it had been very good. "Don't worry girl, there's plenty more," I told her. "Having come once already just means I can take my time better later. Now, let's eat." ------- We had our little buffet of sandwiches and a couple of drinks, watching some comedy series on the telly in the bookcase, sitting on the half-circle sofa. Lexy seemed to have accepted her role now. Maybe she was no longer so scared: the ice had been well and truly broken - she'd brought a man to a climax for the first time. I hadn't turned physically violent. Maybe she'd just accepted her fate, but it wasn't the emotionless clinical acceptance of a heroin whore - with no feelings discernable behind the eyes and slack disinterested movements: this girl was lively and graceful. Maybe it made her feel very grown up somehow. Or deliciously naughty. Hell, maybe she'd even enjoyed it a bit at some level. She wandered from sofa to table and back, still in wearing undies, shoes and socks and that red and black scarf, but no longer self-conscious at all. She grabbed her knees to her chest and laughed at some of the funny bits, showing the white crotch of her knickers between her neatly rounded buttocks and only sticking her tongue out at me playfully when I put a hand there. She sat cross-legged on the red couch to eat her food, not taking my palm away when I put it on her naked knee. She'd eaten and drunk a bit now, so I could kiss her without getting the taste of semen (yucky salty stuff, not my thing at all). She kissed more naturally now, nuzzling up intimately close face to face, but parting her lips wide like a good girl to let me explore her mouth properly when I wanted her to. Yet it was still clearly a forced and unnatural reaction for her - and that was exactly the turn-on as far as I was concerned: slipping a bra-strap off a girl's shoulder never meant much to me before (it's just a preparatory move to make it easier to get at her tits, isn't it? Meaningless in itself) but feeling my fingertips moving over Alexandra's delicate collar-bone and slender shoulder was somehow absolutely electric. Something in the way the stopped and stiffened, something in the idea that nobody had done this to her before. It made it hugely exciting. I had thought it would be a while before I was ready for more action, but this youngster was just so cute and tempting. And helpless. And available. I had bent to kiss her neck and had just been about to let my mouth run down and expose a soft young breast, when it suddenly got a bit much for her. She squirmed away and went back to the table to get something else: Christ, if I kept letting her put the evil moment off like that, she'd never stop eating. I walked up behind her, standing tight behind so that she couldn't turn round to face me. I took the plate and glass from her hands, then pushed her gently but firmly face down on the table. Unclipping her bra at the back and pushing the straps aside, I slid my fingers underneath the black and red scarf and began massaging the tense neck muscles, before slowly working down the long smooth back. I felt a shiver running down her body as my hands reached her knickers. But there was nothing she sould do to stop me from slipping the flimsy cotton garment over her rounded backside and down to her white ankle socks. Obediently she lifted one black shiny shoe slightly off the floor to let me pass the panties over it. Standing up again, I pushed her ankles apart using my feet until her legs were wide akimbo and all I had to do was part my robe and place my erection between them. I caught sight of her face: the drinks cabinet was glass-fronted and had a mirror inset at the back. The young girl's face looked back at mine, big blue eyes tearful and pleading. I saw her mouth the words, "Please don't" as I stroked my knob up and down the warm slit, probing in between the outer lips and lodging firmly at her entrance. "Please don't, please don't," she muttered, eyes widening to childlike proportions. But there was no resistance now; whether it was to ease her own discomfort, or to help me, or for her own enjoyment I'll never now, but she arched her back a little more and raised her hips an inviting extra inch. "Please don't, Sir." But I did. And how. I didn't take my eyes off hers, watching in delight as her mouth opened in a brief gasp of pain as I penetrated her and took her virginity with one brutal thrust of the hips. I withdrew a little, then drove home again, even pushing the big boardroom table forward. Pulled out a little way again, and then I was rogering the youngster for all I was worth: hands on the lightly tanned, girlishly narrow hips, ramming home so that the fronts of my thighs were slapping audibly against her buttocks as I hilted myself deep inside her until I came satisfyingly. "Excellent, my dear," I said, tying the sash of the dark blue housecoat round me again. "That was fun. I haven't had a virgin for probably twenty years." I grabbed a can of beer and sat down on the sofa again, flipping the TV to a sports channel. "My doctor's always recommending more fruit. I could definitely get very partial to cherries." She just lay there on the table, the rise and fall of her chest showing she was sobbing softly. Her naked buttocks were still in full view, round and smooth, with her hairless vaginal lips partially visible. She looked very desirable, I thought. And I'd just had her! No drug-ridden slapper this, no pro just waiting for AIDS to rear its ugly head, no cheap slag whose debut shag was so far in the past that she couldn't remember it. The owner of that glistening juicy pussy had just found out what life was all about. With her back to me, she did her bra up again and pulled her knickers up. Wordlessly, but still clearly fighting against bursting into tears, she went to the bathroom. I soon heard the shower running. I sat back and watched the football, arms spread wide along the back of the sofa, taking the occasional sip of my beer. I'd not felt so alive for years. ------- Maybe half an hour later, Alexandra re-emerged, wearing another dark blue housecoat, identical to mine. She stood at the doorway and looked at me, towelling her long blonde hair. She drew a deep breath: something to say, trying to sound confident but not quite making it. "So, Sir, did you enjoy that?" I nodded as noncommittally as I could. "Sure." "Deflowering me?" Ï shrugged neutrally, "It was a good fuck, yeah." It had been dynamite, but I wasn't necessarily going to say so. She swallowed. "Well, you'll never get another chance. I'll never be a virgin again." I wasn't sure what she was trying to say. I took a shot in the dark. "Who cares? Men will still want you, girl, 'cause you're still a pretty young thing." "Really?" "Of course. You're highly attractive, you're well-spoken, you move beautifully. Most girls lose it in their mid teens." "It's just not usually for the gratification of a ugly fat bloke of forty or so." It was probably meant to be an insult, but instead it made me feel good. How many guys of my age ever get to screw a piece of jailbait like her? I laughed. "Don't worry, you're not ruined or spoiled. On the contrary. Once you're a bit more experienced, you'll be a knockout in bed. Very good." She flushed. I swear it: she looked at the ground and blushed a little. "Come here." I got her to curl up next to me on the sofa, resting against me with my arm round her. "Any red-blooded male would enjoy you, Sexy Lexy." She went to sleep with her blonde head in my lap. Weird, or so I thought - but the shrinks could probably tell you what was going on. Giving her troubled brain a chance to reorganize its files as she dozed, perhaps: it certainly was a rather restless sleep. Coming down from the adrenalin rush. Maybe she needed the simple animal pleasure of comforting bodily contact. Could be something to do with dominance and father-figures, even. Whatever. I watched the TV for a bit and drank my beer while stroking the young blonde gently and calmly, in a friendly rather than sexual way. The dreams stopped - if that's what they were - and she relaxed. ------- The game finished after half an hour or so and some film or other started. Probably time to get moving if I wanted to get her back to school tonight. I shifted a liitle, and Lexy just turned languidly against me, stretching out with her arms over her head. Ah, no rush - let her kip for a few minutes more. It was a good film, with a tasty blonde actress I was rather fond of who'd get out of her clothes with any luck. I turned the volume up a fraction and made myself more comfortable, moving along the sofa to where I could reach another beer from the pack, thereby leaving Lexy draped sensuously face-up over my knee with her back arched. I cracked the can and let the plot develop. A minute or so later, Lexy was waking up too. She didn't alter her awkward-looking position, seeming to be quite comfortable stretched out languorously with her long arms above her fair head. She just opened those big blue eyes and started watching the movie too. I explained what was going on, with the odd hand gesture inevitably. My left was on the dressing gown at her left thigh, but my right no longer had anywhere to go now that she was awake: it had been stroking her head. Naturally enough, I ran it up and down the towelling gown, and then realizing that she had in her drowsiness taken no action whatsoever to stop my wandering hand, I placed the fingertips at her throat and slithered them gently down inside the fluffy material, down the centre line of her body over the sternum - beyond where they should have met a bra. Back upwards and away from me, gently and delicately. She bit her lip but lay still as my fingertips followed the gentle swell of a taut breast and came to a tight little nipple. Barely in the faintest contact with her skin, my fingers traced a small circle round her tit. I could feel it crinkling up and hardening, could see her hands moving uncertainly as she instinctively reacted against the instrusion yet at the same time found it pleasurable. She grabbed the end arm of the sofa above her head: not fighting me off. It didn't matter whether this was through a conscious decision not to antagonize the man who had her in his power, or because she was luxuriating in the unfamiliar sensations. She wasn't resisting, and that was an invitation not to be refused. I pulled eagerly at the sash of her gown and she gasped as I parted it wide. I looked down at her, and all thoughts of the starlet on the screen were instantly forgotten. I had already seen what a splendid lithe figure Alexandra had: the flat muscular stomach had been on display for an hour or more as she wandered about in her underwear. The delicate collarbones, the fragile-seeming shape of the hips. But seeing her in her naked splendour was something else again. The perfect firmly rounded breasts of a young girl. A little paler than her tanned skin but with no particular tan lines. Fuller than I had thought. Stretched magnificently taut by her arched back, with tempting little dark-red nipples protruding skywards. And I'd fingered her pussy as I came the first time, and used it mercilessly from behind the second time. Yet I'd not seen her undressed till now, and that was the real pièce de résistance. A very fine pale down I'd not noticed before began just below her navel, running downwards to where it spread out from around the panty-line into a thick diamond-shaped mass of curls, darker than the hair on her head but still a soft golden colour I'd never seen before. "Sexy Lexy," I said with a slow grin, "that is one hell of a body." "The girls at school teased me about it a bit," she said, squirming slightly but not trying to cover up. "Say it looks like an arrow pointing the way." I laughed. "They're just jealous," I replied. "There aren't too many natural blondes around. You look really good, girl, honestly. Really tasty." I let my hands roam smoothly up and down that spectacular soft warm body, teasing her. Not quite grappling her tits. Plunging my fingers in between her thighs, but an inch or two from her groin. The adrenalin rush from her violent experiences of the last hours hadn't left the system entirely. I could almost feel the need for release welling up inside her, but there were still too many inhibitions. I stopped and sat her up next to me. "Let yourself go, girl." "I can't." "Then I'll just have to make you." I got up and stood in front of her, dropping my housecoat. Hard and ready for action again: a third time was going to prove no trouble at all. "Spread your legs and show me your cunt." She did as instructed, expecting that I was going to fuck her again. "How many times are you going to rape me?" The question was in a clear voice, almost arrogant. No longer scared. It almost made me want to take her on the spot, teach a lesson by shafting her hard and uncompromsingly. And that was her idea, I realised: she didn't trust her body any more not to react, not to enjoy herself. "This isn't rape," I said as I knelt in front of her. "This is lovemaking." Beginning at the inside of the right knee, began kissing and running my tongue down the inner thigh until I came to where her nearly hairless pussy - just a fine down of gold around it - was waiting for me. I licked and probed every fold and crevice, forcing her legs apart and refusing to let up for a minute until I had her heaving and squealing as she came time and again. Only then did I take her again: the young blonde lay there quiescent on the sofa, long arms draped along the back of it, pale blue eyes glazed disbelievingly at the fact that she had been made to climax so easily despite herself. And as I sank myself vigorously into the warm sheath of her soft body, she responded again. Unwillingly at first, but by the time I was ready, she was letting herself be swept along by the overwhelming hormone rush. She spasmed tightly round me, then lay there spent and exhausted, with a sheen of sweat on that splendid body as - hardly able to believe my luck - I emptied myself inside her again. ------- I left her there on the sofa, and started getting dressed. The youngster just sat there stark naked, legs splayed wide and with everything openly on display, too shocked and stunned to cover herself. Christ, I could certainly handle a bit more of this girl. And a few like her. What a sight for sore eyes! "I'm going to drive us round to my place to continue your sexual education overnight. It's only a couple of minutes from your school. It's late: you ring 'em and tell the answerphone that someone will be dropping you back off there in the morning." With a blank expression, she did as instructed, using her own mobile phone. "Right, put your clothes back on, girl. I've got a car outside. Let's go. And by the way, I want the number of that mobile. Something tells me that you - and any pretty friends who you can persuade to come along - are going to become frequent visitors." --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---- All original work, copyright (c) J.M.Maserati, 2003. May be freely disseminated for non-commercial purposes as long as the author is clearly identified and copyright stated. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----