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   (For the original A House In Gross Disorder, see
https://muse.jhu.edu/article/44333)

   Jenny's Couch Book IV: A House In Gross Disorder, part 17 (Mg, M+g,
prost, drugs, pierce, body-mod, tort, humil, cons, nc, rp, existential
despair)

   Lilah finished her dinner break by sharing a joint with me.  The barkeep
made her go back downstairs for the bus tub she'd forgotten.  She came back
with it on her head like a helmet.  When she placed it on the bar he leaned
over, nodded with approval at her reddened labia and my semen leaking from
between them and running down her thighs, and handed her a nicely rolled
fattie.  Then she stood beside me at the bar and raised her arms.  It was
such a totally normal thing for a little girl to do that it took me a
minute to realize she was asking to be boosted up onto a barstool.  Lifting
her around her waist put me face-to-face with her betusked and tattooed
visage and I felt her cunny spikes scrape along the leg of jeans and that
shattered the momentary sense of normality.  Once seated on the stool she
spun back and forth a few times - again, a totally normal thing for a
little girl to do.  But then she raised one leg, heedless of her nudity,
putting her heel on the edge of the stool and her elbow on her knee.  She
accepted a light from the bartender.  She puffed a couple of times to get
it burning nicely then inhaled deeply.  The stretchers holding her pierced
nipples moved up and apart as her ribcage expanded.  She handed the joint
to me and I watched in amazement as she used two fingers to spread her cunt
open.  When she exhaled she blew the pungent smoke downward so that it
passed over the exposed mucosa.  Thus she got a double punch from each hit.

   I smoked in companionable silence with the naked eight?  no, nine, I
decided, after counting up the months, naked nine-year-old I had just
fucked.  As the THC coursed through the child her eyelids drooped and her
movements got slow and languid.  But she never coughed or choked despite
the harshness of the weed.  This was obviously routine for her.  She let
her head fall back so she was looking at the ceiling.  She hooked her bare
toes around one leg of the stool and spun herself slowly side to side,
giggling at whatever hallucination her mind was painting over the worn
tiling.  I was silently enjoying the view myself, and listening to the
sound of her cunt-tusks clicking together.  Our mutual reverie was broken
when the barkeep tossed a damp rag over Lilah's face and grunted "Get to
work." Lilah clawed the dirty cloth off.  She ran a hand through her silky
Mohawk, then hopped down off the barstool.  She used the rag to wipe up the
puddle of my cum that had oozed out of her onto the stool.  After folding
the rag very carefully into quarters, she placed it on the bar.  And then
Lilah went back to work.

   "Work" for the little girl consisted of going from table to table,
asking each person in turn if they wanted to buy her a drink.  When someone
said yes, Lilah took their money and trotted back to the bar.  She returned
with her ten dollar glass of Coke, put it on the table and hopped up into
the patron's lap.  For as long as it took her to drink her drink, the
patron had free access to the little girl's body.  Lilah wriggled in
apparent pleasure as adult hands fondled her everywhere.  At some point her
nipple stretchers were removed, leaving her very slightly puffy, pierced
nipples available for pinching and squeezing.  She would grind her butt
against the man's lap, then reach behind her, obviously feeling up his
erection through his trousers.  Meanwhile his hands could rove up and down,
tweaking her nips, tracing the outlines of her ribcage, even rubbing her
smooth slit which made Lilah laugh and push her pelvis up in the air.

   There was no shortage of customers.  In fact, nearly every man seated
around the stage bought Lilah a Coke and got to fondle the little girl for
five or ten minutes.  As the evening proceeded, twice Lilah returned from
the bar not with a highball glass of soda, but with an empty beer mug that
she proceeded to fill the same way she had with me, by voiding her bladder
into it.  Then she drank off the contents before hopping onto a lap.

   I was surprised that there was no penetration, but that came later. 
Around midnight, one table ordered a round of tequila shots and Lilah
brought back a tray of them, plus one half-full for herself.  That
half-ounce cost thirty bucks versus ten for her sodas.  Now me, I might use
well tequila to strip paint but I sure wouldn't let it touch my insides. 
Lilah, however, tossed off her half-shot like she'd been doing it forever -
which, given how badly LSD fucks with your time perception, subjectively
she might well have been.  The naked little girl slammed her empty glass
upside down on the table with everyone else.  Seconds later she was boosted
up to that same table.  She leaned back, supporting herself on her elbows,
and spread her skinny legs lewdly.  One of the men at the table put his
hand gingerly between the sharps guarding her bald sex and stuck his finger
right up her cunt.  It slid into her tiny opening easily.  Lilah cackled,
accompanied by the almost musical sound of her tusks clashing together. 
The man began pumping his finger in and out.  It emerged shiny with
moisture and Lilah's laughter turned into rhythmic moans. 
"Yeah...yeah...yeah," she gasped out.  Her lips peeled back and her eyes
closed.  "Yeah...yeah...yeah...oh yeah!  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!" She bent her knees
until her heels were against her buttcheeks and her legs began shaking. 
Her hands clawed at the tabletop as she reached a quick little climax.  The
finger was pulled out of her baby twat with an audible "pop!" and before
she had a chance to recover the man spun her on the table so her gaping
toothed vag was facing his neighbor.

   By the time everyone at that table had had a go at the little girl she
was flushed and her skin shone with perspiration.  When she was helped down
off the table her knees buckled and she needed help for a second to stand
upright.  As she trotted to the next table one hand stole to her crotch and
a finger danced little circles on her clitoris.

   From that point most of the tables opted for the more expensive option.
By the time Lilah had completed her second circuit of the room it was
closing time.  Her cunny was red and swollen and she was stumbling drunk. I
was amazed she was still on her feet at all.  She hadn't had all that much
liquor but, c'mon, she was tiny.  Carrying a tray full of empty shot
glasses back to the bar she tripped over her own feet.  I grabbed the tray
just in time as she measured her length on the sticky floor.  I set the
tray on the bar and hoisted Lilah to her feet.  She stood, swaying.  There
was a patch of black gunk on her cheek where it had touched the floor, and
similar smears on her arm, the side of her belly, and one thigh.  She
rubbed at her cheek with one hand, transferring some of the filth to her
fingers, which she then absently sucked into her mouth and gummed clean.

   As the room emptied out, Lilah craned her neck back to look up at the
barkeep.  "Izzit time?" she slurred.  On top of the lisp from her ruined
dentition, alcohol made her words barely intelligible.  The bartender
ignored her and proceeded through his closing routine, including counting
the money that Lilah had earned by prostituting herself.  Lilah turned to
me.  "Isss time.  I'm gettina shurprishe." Her eyes were rolling in her
head.  She took a step and fell literally into my lap, catching herself
with her arms on the barstool and her head buried in my crotch.  I did the
obvious thing and boosted her up and turned her so she was sitting sideways
in my lap.  I cradled her in my arm and traded sips of my drink back and
forth with her.  As drunk as the nine-year-old was she was perfectly happy
to have more alcohol.  Eventually though her head tilted back until it was
resting on my arm.  Lilah stared goggle-eyed at the ceiling, her pupils
tracking something only she could see.  Her tusks moved against each other
as she sang a nonsensical tune to herself.

   The barkeep grunted at me.  "Take her outside.  Marta'll be over in a
few." I didn't know who Marta was or why she'd be over, but I don't argue
with people three times my size.  I stood up with the little girl in my
arms.  Beard opened the door for me and I stepped out into the night.

   It was cool and humid.  There was mist drifting around the trees and a
fitful breeze blowing down from the mountainside.  After the stuffy, smoky
bar, the temperature change was striking but even though she was naked,
Lilah didn't seem to mind.  She stretched uncoordinatedly in my arms and
her eyes opened wide.  "Wowwwww," she whispered, looking up at the drifting
mist.  She lifted her arm and pointed vaguely up.  "Angels," she said, the
final sibilant wet and loose.  Her other hand went to her crotch and she
began stroking herself.  "So pretty.  Wanna be an angel.  Wanna fly.  Fly
away.  Awaaaaay..." Her voice hitched and, looking down, I saw she was
crying softly.

   "Monsters can't be angels," I said.

   "I know," Lilah said and her voice caught on a sob.  "Wanna be an angel.
Wanna fuck an angel.  Angel fuck my monster cunt.  Squirt me full of
angel..." The nine-year-old was babbling.  I stood there with her cradled
in my arms as she masturbated and cried and watched the flight of angels
that her broken mind had conjured for her.

   I heard footsteps crunch on the gravel.  Someone was walking over from
the clubhouse.  As she stepped into the light I realized I did know Marta,
or at least I had met her.  She was the young woman whose hardware had so
entranced Lilah on our first visit.  She was wearing jeans and a black
leather vest.  Her breasts strained against the fabric.  The blinking neon
bar sign made the piercings in her nose, lips, brows, and cheeks seem to
flash on and off.  Her head was shaven with just a few days' worth of
stubble.  She was carrying what looked like a large clutch bag and had a
bundle of ropes or cable or something draped over one shoulder.  She
acknowledged me with a brief nod as she walked past.  I followed her to the
edge of the parking lot, where a picnic table and a steel drum full of
trash were harshly illuminated by a burglar spotlight.  I couldn't imagine
they had a big problem with prowlers.

   She pointed to the table, indicating I should set Lilah down.  "I
remember you," I said as I gently set the little girl down on the uneven
planks of the tabletop.

   Marta spared me a quick glance.  "Yeah?  Okay." She was unimpressed. 
Lilah's arm flopped over the edge of the table while she continued to
masturbate with the other.  She spread her legs and did something with her
pelvic and abdominal muscles to make the cage of silver fangs piercing her
cunny spread open.  The heel of her hand rested on her pubic bone as her
second and third fingers pushed her baby clitoris around and around in
circles.  It was so humid I could see beads of moisture collecting on the
tattooed skin of her mons and the shiny metal of her vagina dentata.

   The bundle over Marta's shoulder proved to be a handful of thick bungee
cords.  She went around the table, efficiently bungeeing Lilah's wrists and
ankles and binding them to the legs of the picnic table.  Lilah took no
notice until Marta captured the hand she was masturbating with.  She whined
when Marta dragged it away from her cunny.  Then when she realized she was
tied spreadeagled she began to moan, "Oh nooooo, monster caught me. 
Nooooo, monster, don't bite me, pleeeease, it hurts, it hurrrrrts..."

   Marta looked down at the little girl dispassionately.  "Shut up, cunt,"
she said.  Her voice was flat.  "Stop crying or I'll give you something to
cry about."

   "Yikes," I whispered, more to myself than anything.  Watching Lilah's
feeble struggles was bringing back some disturbing yet tremendously
arousing memories.  My penis, still sticky with the child's drying
secretions, rubbed almost painfully against the fabric of my underwear.

   Marta glared at me.  "What's it to you?"

   "What's it to you?" I shot back.  "You seemed to like her fine when you
first met her."

   Marta sat down.  "There's a reason I don't have kids," she mumbled. 
"But they made this little shit my problem.  Anything happens to the nice
little income stream she's generating, it's my ass.  She was already more
than half-dead when she got here.  After her first couple nights working
the bar I thought she was done for.  Wouldn't move.  Wouldn't talk. 
Wouldn't eat.  That was when I figured out she was on permanent vacation.
The hell happened to her?"

   "Moira happened to her," I answered simply.  Which was sort of true. 
Partially.  A little.

   "Huh." Marta made a face like she'd tasted something rotten.  "I knew
that kid was trouble, first time I met her.  The way she wrapped Marco
around her finger...anyway.  Old news." She shrugged.  "Once I figured out
that wherever this one'd gone to, she wasn't coming back I realized I had
to do something.  I had to help her."

   I snorted.  "This...is helping her?" I swept a hand over the whimpering
child, taking in all the metal driven through all the different parts of
her body, the ink, the disfigurement.

   "Fuck you," Marta said tiredly.  "I did what I could do.  I gave her a
way to fight her fear.  And she's still alive.  Think about that.  She's
been locked down in that fucking hole for over a year, sucking cock and
getting fucked every day, living on cum and garbage, guys paying to watch
her scream under the tattoo gun, and she's still fighting.  I'm not the one
who put her here and I can't get her out, but I figured out how she can
live through it.  I told her I could fix it so she wouldn't have to be
scared all the time.  Never believed in that mind-over-matter shit, but it
worked for her.  Maybe 'cause she don't have much mind left, I dunno.  But
she's still alive."

   "What do you think's gonna happen to her?"

   "No idea.  Deal with that when the day comes.  If I can.  If I can't,
well..." She shrugged.  "I'll know I kept her alive until then, anyway."

   Lilah had quieted as we had talked over her.  I looked down and saw her
face transformed.  There was a crazy light burning in her dilated pupils.
Her tusks glinted in the neon glare.  She used the leverage of her bindings
to arch her body until only her shoulderblades and heels rested on the
table.  She held that pose for a few seconds then collapsed.  "Angels!" she
cried.  "Angels, angels, aaannngellls!" After a few gulped breaths she
arched up again, as if she was trying to wish her body into the sky, away
from her bonds, away from the torture her life had become.  The curved
spikes protruding from her bald vulva rattled and clinked together.  I saw
moisture leaking out of her scarlet gash.  Her lips peeled back from her
gums in a grimace not of pain, but of pure ecstacy.

   "Now shut up," Marta said.  "I gotta commission and I gotta work while
she's like this."

   "Commission?"

   As we had talked she had untied and unrolled her bag.  It wasn't a
clutch, it was just a long rectangle of fabric with many small pockets, and
stowed in each pocket were various needles, scissors, jewelry, suture
thread, a scalpel, surgical scissors and hemostats.  Working quickly, she
tore open an alcohol wipe and rubbed down Lilah's tummy.  From the bag she
removed a short gold barbel.  Instead of a ball on both ends, on one end it
had a small hoop.  She unscrewed the ball, revealing the sharp point.

   Marta's hands were quick and she worked with no wasted motion.  With a
pair of rubber-jawed needlenose pliers she waited until Lilah arched up,
then deftly pinched Lilah's outie bellybutton.  Almost too fast to see, she
pushed the point of the barbel through.  Lilah jerked but made no sound. 
When she collapsed back to the table, Marta screwed on the ball end, and
adjusted the hoop so it dangled below the little bulb of Lilah's navel. 
Marta flicked the outie with a fingertip, then looked up at me.  Something
flickered in her eyes, something so feral and raging that I took an
involuntary step backwards.  "Yes, commission," she spat out.  "These
fuckers, they get drunk and...bid on what's next for her.  Now shut up,"
she repeated.  I shut up.

   Marta extracted a wicked-looking needle from her kit, and a strange
little twist of metal.  It looked kind of like a miniature tie clip or
something.  It had a fine silver chain and at the end of the chain was a
tiny padlock, like you put on your luggage for the TSA to laugh at.  She
picked up another alcohol wipe and paused, tapping the foil pack against
her upper lip.  Then, "Make yourself useful," she said to me.  "Hold her
open." She aligned her hands with the dual rows of steel bracketing Lilah's
hairless vulva and made a motion like opening a book.  Oh shit.

   I was short of breath, whether from dread or sick anticipation I
couldn't've told you.  I used the backs of my hands to pry the fangs apart,
pushing them back against Lilah's skinny thighs and spreading her labia
until her urethral opening and her juvenile vagina were exposed to the
night.  Marta swiped the sterile gauze up and down the little girl's slit.
Then with a surgeon's delicacy she took the tip of the needle and gently
teased up the hood of Lilah's clitoris until she could ease the needle
between it and the child's tiny pleasure button.  I held my breath.

   When it came it was too fast for my eyes to see.  But Lilah shrieked and
erupted into motion.  Her arms and legs thrashed against the bungee cords.
Her whole body bounced up and down and she slammed the back of her head
against the table again and again.  I was jabbed in the backs of both hands
and jerked them away from her crotch.  Blood welled across the knuckles of
my left hand.  Lilah's scream went on longer than I would have thought she
could possibly have breath for.  Finally it tailed off into a gagging
wheeze, then she gulped in a huge breath and began sobbing brokenly.  "It
hurts, it hurrrts, cunt monster bit me, hurts, please stop, monster, stop
biting me, stop, stop, stop..." With each repetition she banged her head
against the tabletop.

   Marta let Lilah cry herself to near-exhaustion with the gleaming needle
stuck through the hood of her clitoris.  It took a few minutes, but
eventually Lilah quieted.  She was still moaning softly and still thumping
her head against the table, but except for the heaving of her belly as she
gulped for air her nude, sweaty body was still.  That's when Marta reached
carefully between the forest of spines and slipped the small clip beneath
the swelling flesh of the fresh piercing.  Lilah gulped as Marta pulled the
needle through and pushed the ring of the device behind it.  She took a few
seconds to adjust it properly and then locked it in place.  Lilah yipped in
pain but her nervous system was already overloaded and she was at the end
of her energy.  She began to shiver and moan again quietly.

   But Marta wasn't finished.  She stepped around the table and released
the bungee cords around Lilah's ankles.  She grabbed the child's two feet
in one hand and raised them up and back, bending her nearly double.  Then,
reaching down to the child's wounded cunt she took the little chain, pulled
it up and locked the padlock around her new belly piercing.  She dropped
Lilah's feet.  Her legs relaxed and fell down straight onto the table.

   As her heels thumped on the wood, Lilah gave another little scream of
pain.  She drew her legs back up so her knees were against her chest.  But
that made her scream again.  "My cunt, my cunt, owww," she cried as Marta
released the bindings on her wrists.  Immediately she rolled off the table
and began a bizarre frog-hop around us in the dirt.  Every time she
straightened up, she screamed.  Every time she folded back into a crouch -
she screamed.

   I wanted to see what Marta had done that had put the nine-year-old in
such agony but I couldn't get Lilah to hold still.  I grabbed her hand and
she jerked it free and curled into a ball, only to immediately roll onto
her hands and knees and push herself erect, keening all the while.  Finally
I just had to tackle her and sit on her chest.  I squirmed us into a
position where the harsh spotlight was shining onto the child's crotch.  I
leaned over and peered down.

   "Damn," I breathed.  The device piercing her clit hood was ingenious. 
The silver chain connecting it to her belly piercing was short - very much
too short.  If she stood, it pulled her clit hood up, stretching the tender
skin to the point of ripping either the fresh hole it passed through or
tearing it entirely off of her undeveloped anatomy.  In a sick way it sort
of matched the chains that were deforming her nose and stretching her
nostrils.  But if she curled up to ease that tension, the little clip was
released and it clamped down on the very bulb of her clitoris.  The jaws
were cruelly serrated and there was some kind of complicated mechanism that
made them move against each other.  It was diabolical: if she stood, it
felt like her clitoral hood was being torn off of her body; if she sat or
crouched or curled up, it felt her clit was punctured and crushed.  And it
would only get worse as she grew.  As long as this thing was attached, the
little girl would never be free of pain again.

   Lilah writhed beneath me but of course she was far too weak to get free.
"Please, cunt monster, please stop biting my cunt, it hurts so bad," she
sobbed in her lisping, broken voice.  "I won't look at the angels, I'll be
good, please monster, pleeeease." I was torn between horror at what Marta
had done to the child and sick admiration for whoever had come up with the
design for this instrument of torture.  But as Lilah's feeble struggles
pressed her hot, preteen body against my crotch and thighs, a third emotion
welled up in me.

   I looked up.  Marta had already gathered up her tools.  She looked down
at me with weary contempt.  "I'm supposed to take her to the camp.  You can
do it, when you're done," she finished with a sneer.  She turned
deliberately and walked away back towards the clubhouse.  Her shoulders
were stiff but she never stopped or looked back.  As soon as she
disappeared into the building, I unbuttoned my jeans.  I had to roll off of
Lilah to get them down but she wasn't going anywhere.  After opening them I
realized we were pretty exposed right under that floodlight.  I must've
looked pretty funny, holding up my pants with one hand and dragging Lilah
by her ankle with the other.  Her body jackknifed and then she went face
down and got a mouthful of dirt and gravel as I pulled her out of the
light.

   As soon as we were around the corner into the shadows I let both her
foot and my trousers drop.  I yanked down my briefs, feeling them peel away
where cum and Lilah's baby honey had stuck them to my skin.  The cool damp
air made my cock swell even further.  I could feel my pulsebeat making it
bob slightly.  I stopped myself just short of dropping my body full on top
of the little girl - I remembered her pussy teeth at the last instant. 
Instead I went down on my knees between her legs.  I pressed one hand down
on her abdomen to hold her in place, grabbed one of the steel fangs and
tried to twist it around to point away from her cunt.  It took me a few
moments to figure out how to release the lock.  Lilah was still crying and
thrashing around which didn't make it easier.  I had to really lean my
weight on her; even then she kept kicking her legs.  There was no real
strength left in her but it still slowed me down.  Eventually though I got
all six spikes rotated, and then it was party time.  I knee-walked myself
between her pale thighs.  I grabbed behind one knee and folded it up and
back so it was over one head.  With my other hand I aimed my cock at her
tiny opening.  I pressed my head against the bottom of her slit.  She was
hot and slick and felt great against my glans.  As soon as I nudged her
lips apart so I wouldn't pop out I grabbed her other leg and bent her
double.  Then I pushed.

   Lilah screamed as I violated her.  She was so small and skinny, my organ
looked huge where it split her between her pale thighs.  I had to bear down
really hard and there was a lot of resistance at first.  Her inner labia
stretched, stretched, felt like they were going to tear as I forced my
penis into her.  But then her undeveloped lips snapped past the crown, her
heat fully engulfed my cockhead and just like that the resistance was gone.
I buried myself in her to her full depth, just about half my length.

   As I jammed myself up against her cervix the pain shocked her silent,
but only for a second.  Lilah wailed as I started thrusting with all my
strength, bouncing her tiny body like a rag doll and jamming her ass into
the dirt.  Her shrieks annoyed me so I let go of one leg and wrapped that
hand around her throat and squeezed.  Her crazed eyes bugged out, black
empty pools in solid blue, as she tried to breathe.  Her arms clawed
uselessly at my wrist.  Her face went red, then purple.  With her annoying
voice cut off, the only sound was the wet slapping of penetration, the
sucking sound as I withdrew against the near-vacuum of her tiny cunt, and
my harsh panting.

   Her struggles weakened.  Just as her eyes were rolling back I released
her neck.  I grabbed her ankles and pinned them over her head.  That
changed the angle so I could punch against the entrance to her womb with my
full weight.  Lilah dragged in a full breath and I expected her to start
screaming again but she didn't.  Her face changed as oxygen flooded her
body.  Her mouth went slack and her eyelids fluttered.  A soft moan bubbled
up from her throat.  I felt her hands on me, on my sides, as far as she
could reach.  But she wasn't trying to push me away.  Her fingers dug into
the skin.  "Oooooooh," she sighed as her naked body writhed beneath me. 
"Oh, yeahhhhhh, that's better.  Fuck me, monster, fuck my monster cunt,
yeahhhh, yeahhhh!"

   Lilah was hot.  Her breath was warm and damp on my breastbone.  Her skin
was sweaty and hot against my belly, and her cunt was a furnace.  She
moaned in her ruined little-girl voice as I fucked her with all my
strength, driving her skinny little ass into the dirt.  Her vagina grabbed
me, squeezed me, twisted around and around my steel-hard erection.  She
grunted every time I butted into her cervix.  It must've been painful but
far from trying to escape, I realized the child was pushing back against
me, doing everything she could to deepen the invasion of my adult penis.  I
felt her inner walls stretch out on each withdrawal as if unwilling to
surrender the most intimate contact a man and a preteen child can have.

   Lilah's moans got louder and higher in pitch, more urgent.  "Oh yeah, oh
yeah oh yeah yeah yeah YEAH!" Her voice rose to a ragged screech, roughened
by tequila and smoke, "YEAAAAAAIEEE!" she squealed and I felt her cunt
clamp down on me so tightly it hurt.  Her muscles rippled the full depth of
my penetration as if trying to swallow me whole.  After each contraction I
felt blood surging into my cockhead as if it were growing larger, larger,
larger until it would surely tear the child apart.

   As Lilah's orgasm ebbed she went limp beneath me.  Her eyes rolled up in
her head so only solid blue showed beneath her drooping eyelids.  Her head
lolled back.  The flush beneath her garish facial tattoo slowly faded.  I
was still holding her ankles up over her head and I felt the tension go out
of her legs.  She was out, but I was nowhere near finished.  I kept fucking
her, fucking myself into that amazing grasping heat.  Her head bounced back
and forth in the dirt and the only noise she made was ragged panting and
grunts as my thrusts forced the air out of her lungs.

   I let go of Lilah's ankles and her legs flopped down.  I couldn't see
where we were joined but I felt the effect of her new jewelry.  As her body
straightened the chain yanked her clit hood upwards.  The stretching
tightened her inner lips until their grasp around my shaft was truly
painful.  She was lubricated enough that I could move freely in and out of
her vaginal tunnel but I could push past her opening only with difficulty.
Her labia scraped against my skin.  The pain brought Lilah around.  She
winced and instinctively pulled her legs back up, bending her knees and
putting her feet against my sides.  Her expression cleared and after a
moment she started to move against me again.  Behind her tusks her lips
stretched into a thin smile.  She kind of gurgled in her throat.  Bubbles
of saliva formed and popped between her bare gums at the front of her
mouth. "Gggha, nice, nice monster cunt," she murmured.  Her eyes focused on
my face but who knows what she was actually seeing.

   I was getting tired.  Despite the cool air I was sweating profusely; my
shirt was soaked.  So I slid my hands under Lilah's knobby shoulders and
down her back to her waist.  Then I carefully rolled us over, keeping
myself fully embedded in the child.  I came to rest on my back with Lilah
astride me and my cock jammed up against her cervix as her weight bore
down. She groaned but I shifted her forwards.  She was too small for her
knees to touch the ground so her weight rested on her thighs against my
hips.  She tried to hold herself up but her arms were trembling too badly
and she fell against my chest.  She groaned softly as I rolled my hips back
to withdraw slightly and then pushed back into her.  I set a rhythm, slow
at first and then speeding up as my pleasure built, until the child was
bouncing limply atop me - she had no strength left.  I grabbed a handful of
her hair and yanked her head up so I could look in her face while I
continued to fuck the nine-year-old.  She grunted "ehh...ehh...ehh..." each
time I bottomed out and saliva dribbled down her chin but she had the same
moronic smile fixed on her face.  Her eyes bored into mine.  With the
change of position I was building fast. 
"Ehh...ehh...ehh...ehh...EHH...EEE!" Her voice clawed up the scale as my
balls drew up and I fired the first volley of sperm into her.

   I wrapped my arms around Lilah and held her tight.  I squinted my eyes
shut and just rode my orgasm, enjoying the mingled heat of Lilah's cunt and
my semen against the skin of my penis.  After a few more spasms I shuddered
and it was done.  I felt the soft, slight weight of Lilah's naked body
against my chest as I panted, felt her heart hammering out of rhythm with
me own.  I stroked her skinny bare back, my fingers sliding across the
sweaty skin.  She snugged her shaven head under my chin and made the
closest sound a human can make to purring.

   I dozed with the preteen atop me for half an hour or so and could have
happily lain there all night if it had been just a little warmer.  But it
wasn't, and Lilah began to shiver as the sweat cooled on her body, and I
had a delivery to make anyway.  So I rolled a little bit to one side and,
with some effort, pulled us apart.  Her drumhead-tight inner lips were like
a natural cock ring and I was still half-hard and my cum was sticky inside
her.  We parted with a wet slurp.

   But then something weird happened.  As soon as I set Lilah on the ground
she moaned and it was obviously pain and not pleasure.  She fell on her
side with her legs drawn up and her hands clamped over her soaked little
quim and began whimpering.  Afraid that I'd damaged her, I scooped her up
in my arms and carried her back into the light and set her on the table.  I
pried her hands away and leaned in to look.  The points had opened her
scabs again and there were six little runnels of blood dripping down her
thighs, but from the scarring and our first coitus it was obvious that was
nothing new.  I looked closer at the thing Marta had clamped around the
little girl's clitoris.  Experimentally I pushed a finger easily inside
her. Then two.  And I understood.

   Whoever had made that piece of jewelry it was truly diabolical.  The
friction of a cock invading the little girl would pry the jaws apart,
granting her relief from the barbs and serrations crushing her pleasure
button - but only as long as she was penetrated and stuffed full.  Between
that and the chain clipped to her belly piercing, Lilah would be in
constant pain - except when she was getting fucked.  For the rest of her
life she'd never have a moment free of agony unless there was a dick inside
her.  No matter how much she hated when the "monsters" caught her, when she
was crushed beneath the weight of an adult and ripped open, it was the only
way she'd ever get relief from the torture of this devilish appliance.  And
no matter how badly damaged her mind had become from the gigantic overdose
of LSD and the horrific abuse she would continue to suffer, positive
reinforcement was powerful.  I figured before long the nine-year-old would
be begging to be fucked, trying to spend every waking minute with some
adult's cock jammed into her.

   But I wouldn't be around to see that.  I picked up my jeans and
underwear from where I'd discarded them and dressed myself.  Then I pulled
Lilah to her feet.  She half swallowed a scream as she straightened.  I
took her hand and she limped across the parking lot with me.  It was only a
few steps before she was crying in pain.  Half-blinded, she stumbled as
rocks bruised her bare feet.  A trickle of blood ran down the inside of
each thigh, mixed with a sluggish snail track of semen oozing from her
swollen vulva.  The blood looked black as it dribbled past her knees, down
her calves and to the arches of her feet.  She started leaving bloody
footprints.  When we reached the truck she tried to collapse into a squat
as I fumbled for my keys but I kept a firm grip on her hand, pulling her
erect and maintaining the tension on her tender clitoral sheath.

   We drove in silence except for Lilah's whimpering.  But as I navigated
the turn off of the gravel road and onto the dirt track that would lead us
to the illegal sex offenders camp deep in the forest, she spoke.  In a
voice almost too soft to hear over the crunch of gravel beneath my tires,
the child said, "I had a dweam."

   "Did you?" I responded.  "What kind of dream did you have?"

   "I dweamed I wasn't a monster.  I was a little girl.  And I wore school
clothes to go to school, and I wore play clothes after school.  And I had
friends that were girls and boys and we would play together.  And I had a
daddy and a mommy, and my daddy and mommy loved me, and we were a family,
and we hugged and I loved them and they made dinner and mommy tucked me in
at night.  And then I had a friend, but then she wasn't a friend and she
did bad things and made me do bad things.  And then there were two of me
but only one did bad things.  But then in the dream something happened and
my mommy went away and my daddy turned into a monster, and other monsters
came.  And the monsters killed the me who wasn't bad.  And then the
monsters took me away.  And then I was a monster and I live with monsters
and I have to fight with monsters every day.  And I have a monster cunt and
it hurts all the time except when it feels really good but even when it
feels really good it hurts.  And when I was a little girl I didn't have a
monster cunt and it never hurt and I was happy all the time."

   I pulled the truck to a stop in the clearing.  There were ten or fifteen
men in a circle around a small campfire.  As my headlights swept across
them they got up and started towards me.  I looked at Lilah.  Tears were
leaking from her dyed eyeballs and running down her cheeks.  Her tusks
glinted in the dashboard lights.  In a small, forlorn little voice she
looked up and asked me, "Was the dweam real?  Was I a little girl?  Did I
have a mommy and daddy?  Will I wake up and be a little girl again with a
mommy and daddy?"

   I looked up from Lilah's naked, battered, mutilated body to the
ill-dressed and dirty band of men, then back at her.  Hope would kill her.
"No," I sighed.  "No, it was just a dream.  You're a monster.  You never
had a mommy or daddy.  You've always lived with monsters." That was the
only gift I could give her.

   I leaned across Lilah and pushed her door open.  The dome light came on
and the despair in her eyes almost broke me.  Then I shoved her out and she
fell on her face in the dirt.  I pulled her door closed, put the truck in
gear and headed back the way I'd come.  In my rear-view mirror I watched
the men dragging Lilah away and then I was around the curve and gone.
   End of Jenny's Couch, Book 4