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 This is an erotic story featuring adults and children.  If you don't want
to read such a thing, don't.  If it's illegal for you to read it whoever
and wherever you are, I don't really care.  Don't read it, or don't get
caught.  Either way, it's your problem.

   This is my story.  It is made available under a Creative Commons
Attribution - Noncommercial - No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported license. 
You may copy, distribute, or transmit this work so long as authorship is
properly credited and these introductory paragraphs are included, and you
adhere to the terms set forth at
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/.

   This story is F-I-C-T-I-O-N.  No actual children or adults or anything
were involved in its production.  What part of "made up" don't you
understand?  Intelligent feedback gratefully accepted at rufusfugit at
yahoo dot com.  Stupid feedback and flames to /dev/null.

   Jenny's Couch, part 22 (Karen's Party 1) (Mg, Fg, ped, mast, prost,
cons, reluc, humil, forced-exhib, hot pepper oil, drugs) by Rufus Fugit

   "Give me your panties," Moira said.

   Karen shrank back against me.  The four of us were crammed into the
front seat of Moira's gigantic rustbucket Chevrolet.  Moira was driving,
and I was sitting between the children.  I had my right arm around
nine-year-old Renee, holding her cuddled against me, and Karen was between
me and Moira, sitting with her scabby knees high and her pretty white dress
sandals resting on the transmission hump.  "But why?" the eleven-year-old
asked plaintively.  It was nearly full dark on our last night of vacation
and we were about halfway to Moira's house, rattling and belching smoke
down the old state highway.

   "Because you're a whore, and whores don't need panties when they're
working," Moira replied.  She was in a good mood tonight and you could hear
the smile in her voice, but there was some steel lurking behind the smile
and it was to that Karen reacted.  I saw her chin tremble in the dash
lights.  They flickered and sometimes went out entirely when the car hit a
bump.

   "But I thought..." Karen's voice was rising and I put a gentle,
restraining hand on her tan thigh.  She was wearing her new outfit, a
flaring, pleated denim miniskirt in cornflower blue.  Her top was watered
silk, cut low in front and lower in back, spaghetti-strapped, white with a
faint pattern of vines and flowers.  The light fabric showed off her tan to
good advantage.  Her sun-streaked blonde hair spilled loose over the golden
skin of her bare shoulders and arms.  Jenny had thought the top a bit too
old for Karen when we'd found it at the outlet mall, but had relented on
the condition that her older daughter wear it with a camisole.  And, eyeing
the eleven-year-old's perky nipples outlined through the thin fabric, she'd
told the child that it was probably time to go shopping for lingerie when
we got back home.

   Now Karen twisted in her seat to look at me.  Her eyes were shiny in the
near-dark.  "I thought you said this was my party."

   "Actually, sweetie, what I said was you're going to be the guest of
honor.  And you are." I idly caressed Renee's chest as I spoke.  She was
wearing a tie-dyed strapless sundress we'd found in a cheesy hippie
emporium tucked back off the main tourist strip.  It was a cheap, thin
cotton, and probably wouldn't survive too many washings but it had only
been a few bucks and it looked very cute.  It was dark purple at the hem,
lightening to a pale pink at the elastic bodice.  Small yellow, orange, and
red sunbursts splashed across the dress front and back.  I had my fingers
inside the loose elastic, gently tweaking the third-grader's nipples and
rubbing the pads of puppyfat they rode atop.  She had her head leaned back
in the crook of my shoulder.  Her brown hair was frizzy from the humidity.
It tickled against my jawline.  Her eyes were black in the dimness, her
full lips gently pursed.  She made little hums of pleasure deep in her
throat as I touched her.  Her left hand rested lightly on the stiff bulge
my erection made in my shorts.  She pressed down lightly, then used just
her fingertips to trace the length of the shaft.  I sighed in pleasure,
kissing the top of her head to encourage her to continue.  Traffic was
sparse on the old two-lane and it was nearly night anyway, but it was still
a delightful thrill to be engaged in mutual fondling with the nine-year-old
in public.

   I hadn't been sure that Jenny and Rob would go for letting the girls
stay away overnight on the last night of our vacation.  Moira had been on
her best behavior when we all went out to dinner several days ago.  They
had seemed to like her, and they had accepted our tale of how Karen tripped
and fell while running in the parking lot to explain her scraped palms and
skinned knees and the obvious pain she was in.  Karen had confirmed the
story, if monosyllabically, and had spent dinner shifting gingerly from
cheek to cheek on the hard benches at the crab shack.  The next day, of
course, she had felt a lot worse.  Her bandaged scrapes weren't so bad but
her entire body ached, most of all her stretched, abused preteen vagina. 
She felt bruised inside and out, and every time she moved her legs or even
breathed deeply her badly mauled clitoris throbbed dully.  But concealment
had become second nature to her and she hid the extent of her discomfort
from her parents.  I watched her closely at first and only the occasional
wince or sharp catch of her breath betrayed her, so gradually I relaxed. 
She complained to Jenny of a twisted knee to get ibuprofen for a couple of
days and that helped some as well.

   I'd broached the idea of the party midweek.  It was ostensibly a
gathering of Moira's college buddies to watch the bowl game.  The team had
broken a years-long losing streak, so it was a big deal if you cared about
that kind of thing, which I pretended to, a little.  Moira had invited all
of us, I said, but she also wanted to know if she could "hire" the girls to
help out with serving snacks and such.  She offered to pay them, even. 
Just five dollars an hour, but not bad money if you're nine and eleven.  I
knew Jenny and Rob cared even less for football than I did, so it wasn't
much of a gamble to include them in the invitation.  They declined but then
I suggested that I could take the girls and we could have a sleepover at
Moira's after the game, giving their parents the condo to themselves for
one last long nap, nudge-nudge wink-wink, before we had to head back home.
It had taken some more talk and a phone call to Moira to discuss ground
rules, but they'd finally agreed.  Rob was worried that a crowd of college
students watching a football game would get too rowdy for the girls, but
Moira had reassured him that her crew was pretty laid-back and there would
be other kids there.  That was stretching a bit, though it was true that
some of the invitees would be bringing high-school-aged younger brothers.
In any case, I promised to keep an eye on things and put the girls to bed
if it seemed to be getting wild.

   The girls had reacted characteristically - Renee jumping around with
enthusiasm and Karen with more restraint.  I'd emphasized to Karen the next
day that the football and the job was just a cover story for a party where
she would be, yes, the guest of honor.  She knew that, of course, but it
reinforced once again that she was actively lying to her parents, working
together with me to keep the truth of her new life from them.

   I hadn't gone into any details about what "guest of honor" entailed.

   Later I'd tried to talk to her further, to apologize for letting things
get so out of hand with Dr.  K.  We'd been desultorily working on a
sandcastle while Jenny, Rob, and Renee played in the gentle surf.  She just
closed down, though, when I raised the subject.  "It was my fault," she
said, looking down at her delicate toes digging in the warm sand.  "I
thought he was creepy but I went with him anyway." I started to protest -
after all, I had pretty much pimped her to the fat pervert, but she cut me
off.  She raised her head to look at me, and there was something so hard
and empty in the child's wide blue eyes, so incongruous with her undefined
features, that I fell silent.  She said harshly, "That's what can happen
when you're a whore," and looked away.

   I felt almost abashed.  "Okay," I said, "you're right.  And now that
Moira's shown you what to do and how to turn tricks, from now on you get to
decide." I leaned forward and pressed my palm briefly against the warm,
yielding crotch of her swimsuit.  Karen jumped and shuddered slightly. 
"From now on nothing goes in that babycunt unless you say so." The child
kept her head turned away.  There was tension in her jawline and neck and
perhaps her eyes were shiny.  When she made no response, I sat back and
dropped the subject.

   But now she tossed my words back at me.  "You promised," she said.  "I'm
still sore.  Everywhere, not just my c-cunt.  You promised it was up to
me."

   "I know, sweetie." I put my arm around the eleven-year-old's skinny
back, gently squeezing her forearm and pulling her to me.  I bent to speak
into her ear, smelling the delicate fragrance of her baby shampoo and the
eau de toilette that Jenny had let her dab on for the special occasion. 
"But no one's saying you have to fuck.  Moira just wants your panties.  And
she arranged this party just for you.  You're her whore tonight so you
should do what she says." I gently licked at the child's ear and nibbled
her tender lobe.  I was hard already from the willing access Karen's
younger sister was giving me to her boobies, but the scent of her and the
sexy way she shivered when I puffed air in her ear made me swell against my
briefs.  "Go on, now."

   Karen made a noise in her throat like a soft whimpering sigh, but she
lifted her butt off the cracked duct tape that crisscrossed the seat.  She
reached under her short skirt and with an awkward shimmy tugged a scrap of
white fabric into view.  She pressed her legs together and rolled her
panties down her thighs until they bound her bent knees together in front
of the dash.  "Good girl, thank you," I kissed her cheek and finished the
job for her, leaning forward to pull the fabric down her calves and lift
her feet to free them.

   "But why can't I keep them on?" Karen asked again.

   "Number one, we want them to stay nice and clean.  You don't want Daddy
to find cunt juice or squirt all over them when he does the laundry, do
you?" In the dim green dash light I saw Karen gulp at the thought.  She
shook her head vigorously.  I continued before it occurred to her the same
reasoning applied to all the rest of her clothing.  She'd find out soon
enough.  "Number two -" I raised the fabric, still warm from her body, to
my face and inhaled deeply and ostentatiously.  "- everyone loves the smell
of your whore babycunt!" Karen blushed, but she smiled shyly.  In her mind
such statements had become praise, the kind of praise and validation she
had always craved from adults.  "Well, almost everyone." I pushed the
tangled underwear into her younger sister's face.  Renee twisted her head
away with a muffled "uh-uh!" sound.  "But Moira really loves it," I
continued, handing her Karen's underwear, "and it's a little tough for her
to smell it from the source while she's driving." Moira and I chuckled
together.

   Karen's panties were damp and smelled mostly of perspiration but there
was a tantalizing undertone of her juicy preteen sex.  Moira pressed them
to her face and sniffed loudly.  "Mmm, babycunt!  Mmm, mmm, good!" she
declared.  Renee leaned forward and looked on with fascinated disgust as
she realized the young woman was sucking on her big sister's underwear. 
Karen squirmed.  The destroyed upholstery was itchy and uncomfortable
against her bared butt and the fabric of her skirt was rough against her
still-sensitive labia.

   Moira took a last sniff and let the fifth-grader's panties fall into her
lap.  "I'm sorry your cunt's still botherin' you.  I got somethin' here
that'll help." She reached down to rummage in her purse on the floorboards
and came up with a small plastic tube.  "Athletes use this when they get
sore.  I'll numb you up a little, make you feel better.  Hold out your
hands, honey." When Karen obeyed, Moira thumbed the flip-top cap and
squirted a generous portion of thick white cream into her palms.  It
smelled strongly of mint and Karen looked down at it dubiously.  "Go ahead,
now," Moira insisted.  "Rub it in good.  Get your little button, too."

   Karen slumped slightly in the seat and let her knees fall open, using
thumb and forefinger to flip up her denim skirt and expose her bald preteen
vulva.  She used both hands to smear the cream all around her crotch,
gingerly using two fingers to thickly coat her sore clitoris.  She even
rolled her right index finger in her left palm to coat it and carefully
inserted it into herself, wincing and groaning softly at the painful
penetration, her first in over a week.

   Moira was right.  Almost instantly Karen felt better.  The constant ache
in her genitals faded.  The warm, sticky air blowing through the car felt
suddenly cooling on the skin where she had spread the cream.  Wiping her
hands clean on the seat, she pulled her skirt higher, slumping down and
hooking her heels on the edge of the seat.  She let her knees fall open,
sighing and spreading her skinny naked thighs as widely as she could.

   But after a few seconds, the cool feeling got stronger.  The numbness
was replaced by a slight tingling, starting on her bald labia and spreading
up to her mound and her clitoris.  At first it felt pleasant, but it
rapidly grew in intensity.  Karen shifted on the seat, trying to get more
air flowing across her heating little quim, but to no avail.  Sweat popped
out on her forehead and upper lip as her discomfort increased.  Her hands
danced in the air, brushing over her exposed spread thighs but not quite
touching her center.  It wasn't until she made a soft sound, a little
whine, that I noticed her distress.  "It's...oh, it's...hot...ooh, ow, ow!"
Karen moaned more loudly as the tingling escalated rapidly to stinging. 
"Gah!  Guh...ow!" She gasped and shivered as her diaphragm spasmed, forcing
the breath out of her.  She writhed on the seat.  The feeling of heat got
more and more intense.  Her inner passage where she had applied the cream
felt sandpapered, swollen and raw.  Her clitty was worse.  The bruised
flesh where Dr.  K had brutally mauled it felt like it was splitting open.
She was burning!

   "What the hell...?" I exclaimed.  I reached over the squirming,
half-naked child to pick up the tube of cream.  I squinted at it in the dim
light.  "Shit!  Moira - this stuff is loaded with capsaicin!"

   Moira turned and looked dead at me over Karen's head.  A mean smile
tugged at one corner of her mouth.  "Oops." Karen was starting to flail
around in the seat, and Moira pushed her roughly against me.  "I'm trying
to drive here," she said, and looked forward again.

   Karen was accustomed to a certain amount of pain whenever she had
intercourse.  Starting from the day I had deflowered her on her family room
couch her vagina had been stretched to the limit to accommodate adult-sized
penises.  But that pain was followed by the wonderful explosion of orgasmic
pleasure she had come to need so desperately, and indeed the two had become
inextricably linked in her immature mind.  This was different.  She wasn't
aroused, at least, no more than the past months of repeated sexual and
mental abuse had led her to be nearly every waking minute.  She was just
burning.  Tears sprang to her eyes.  "Ow!  OwwwwWWW!  It HURTS!  AIIGH!"
Her hands flapped in the air, waving over her tortured genitals.  "YIII!"
She slapped her prominent bare mons convulsively, like she was trying to
beat out flames.  The slap made the burning recede for just a second, so
she did it again.  "YIII!" Then she lost control, smacking her hands
repeatedly against her tiny bald snatch.  Her cries got louder and more
hysterical.  "HUUH, HUUH, AIIEGH, OOOOOW!" She dug the fingers of both
hands into her slit, crazily trying to find the pain and pull it out.

   I had to restrain her before she really injured herself.  I grabbed her
and pulled her into my lap.  I pinned her hands to her sides, holding tight
as she thrashed against me and sobbed wildly.  Her feet kicked out,
thumping against the dash and the floorboards as her bare legs flashed and
she thrust her crotch up uncontrollably.  Renee shrank back against the
door.  One tiny nipple peeked unnoticed from the top of her dress as she
stared at her big sister with eyes wide and terrified.

   This was far from the right time, but Karen's hot little ass bouncing
against my lap had me at full hardness.  I briefly entertained the idea of
silencing her by freeing my swollen member from my shorts and thrusting it
into her.  Of course it would have had the opposite effect, not to mention
getting some of the sports cream on my own tender bits.  The fantasy was
pleasant but the reality was Karen was incoherent with pain, frantic and
out of control.  She thrashed in my grip, sobbing and making little screams
of agony as the chili extract worked on the clustered nerve endings of her
most sensitive tissues.  I held her tightly, sparing a quick look at her
younger sister.  Renee had curled herself into the furthest corner of the
seat.  Her face was pale and pinched with fear.  "It's OK, sweetie," I
tried to reassure her.  "Karen'll be...ugh!...all right in a few minutes."
I grunted as the fifth-grader's flailing heels caught me on the shin. 
Spittle flew from her lips as she howled.  Her face was scarlet.  The cords
in her neck stood out like cables.  I spread my legs and pushed her down
from my lap to sit between my open thighs.  I trapped her legs beneath my
own so I could hold her mostly immobile.  Her skirt rode up so it was her
bare, hot buttocks that flexed and bounced against my crotch.

   It was a very long ten minutes before the old blacktop took us into the
small town where Moira attended college.  We turned into the parking lot of
her apartment complex.  The lot was unpaved and lit by a pair of fading
sodium-vapor security lights.  There was a lot of trash strewn around and
broken beer bottles glittered in the wan illumination.  The buildings were
generic 12-square three-story structures, rather neglected and worn from
years of student tenancy.

   Karen had exhausted herself.  Her screams had faded to a low, steady
moaning.  Her head drooped forward.  Her skirt was flipped up and she had
watched in mounting horror as her vulva had swollen and flushed nearly
purple from the chemical irritant.  Her inner lips were thick, flowered
open and speckled with what looked like hives.  Her oversized clitoris
stood out, bent unnaturally to one side.  Clear fluid weeped from her
vaginal opening.  I had one arm clamped across her chest, restraining her
arms, and with my other hand I stroked her forehead and hair.  "You'll be
OK," I reassured her, "It'll feel better soon." I murmured into one flushed
ear, "We'll help you, but we have to walk now and you have to be quiet.  If
you scream someone might call the cops, and if you get arrested it'll be
hours before anyone helps you, and your sister will get arrested too.  I
know you don't want that, do you?" The child was probably in too much pain
to even notice my easy lie, but she nodded weakly, her head flopping
forward and back.  "Good.  Renee and I will help you, but now we have to
get out and walk."

   I reached over and pushed the door open.  "Renee, take your sister's
hand." Together we climbed out of the car while Moira killed the engine and
got out on the other side.  Karen stood with difficulty.  She tugged her
miniskirt down to cover her preteen charms.  Her features were pale and
twisted in pain, her face and high forehead shiny with sweat in the
uncertain light.  I saw the muscles knot along her soft jawline.  I took
her other hand and together we started walking.  Karen took little hobbling
steps, trying to hold her hips and thighs as still as possible.  With each
footfall, a soft, snuffling whine forced itself past her clenched teeth. 
She squeezed my hand with all her childish strength.

   Moira led us straight through the breezeway of one building and along a
short, looping path until we arrived at the complex swimming pool.  Like
the parking lot the area was dim and somewhat neglected, though the water
was clear and brightly lit from below.  A chain-link gate stood open, a
faded sign proclaiming "Pool Closes At Dusk" hanging askew.  We walked
through to the pool apron.  "Renee, unbuckle your sister's shoes," I said.
The nine-year-old looked at me quizzically, but bent to obey, her fingers
fumbling with the straps.  I dropped Karen's hand and stepped around behind
her.  I took a second to gather her loose, waist-length hair into a
ponytail.  "Raise your arms," I said and, grabbing the hem of her silk top
and camisole together, lifted them up to her armpits, baring her puffy,
tender nipples to the humid night air.  At the same time, Moira tugged down
on the fifth-grader's denim miniskirt and it fell in a puddle at her feet.

   "Hey!" Karen exclaimed as it penetrated her suffering that she was
suddenly naked.  The warm, muggy air caressed her bare skin but lanced into
the raw, inflamed tissues of her vulva and clitoris.  Her exclamation was
muffled as I forced her arms up and pulled her top over her head, finishing
the job of stripping her.

   "Get in the water now," I told her.  "It's nice and cold and it will
make the burning go away."

   "But...I can't...naked...what if someone sees...?" Karen stammered.

   "People swim naked here," Moira assured her breezily.  "No one will
mind." And with that she gave Karen a shove.  Off-balance, the skinny
fifth-grader tripped with one leg still tangled in her skirt, stumbled, and
fell into the deep end of the pool with a splash.  She surfaced screaming
in shock.  The water was indeed cold, but it was an instant blessed relief
from the pain of her scalded genitals.  Years of swimming lessons and her
natural grace asserted themselves, and after a few seconds the naked child
was treading water, looking up at us.

   "You swim until you feel better, honey.  We'll be back to get you in a
while." And with that I stooped, gathered her clothing in one arm and took
Renee's hand with the other.  "And I've got some words for you, Missy!" I
said sternly to Moira as we headed off to her apartment.

   Karen stared at our retreating backs as her head bobbed at the surface
of the water.  All she could focus on was the agony in her crotch, but as
she kicked her legs the blissfully cold water rushed over her.  After a few
moments, she rolled onto her side and into a freestyle stroke.  There was
nothing else to do.

   Karen swum the length of the pool slowly, then kicked off and headed
back the other way.  She was an excellent swimmer.  She'd been on the team
for a year but she didn't really care for the competition.  She was looking
forward to getting her junior lifeguard certificate when she turned twelve.
Now, overwhelmed by pain and the confusion of being suddenly stripped and
tossed into the pool, she thought of nothing but swimming.  Legs straight,
toes pointed, hands cupped, stroke-stroke-stroke-breathe.  Her world
narrowed to the approaching wall, her controlled breathing, the muted
splashing as she cut through the water.  The frigid liquid felt delicious
as it slid over her bare back and stomach, curled around her legs, churned
and caressed and calmed the fading heat in her cunt, cooling all her secret
places as it flowed into and over and through her.  She relaxed into the
familiar discipline, pulling herself harder and faster through the water
until the blood hummed in her ears.

   After several laps she stopped in the center of the pool.  She trod
water for a few seconds, panting and blowing, then lay onto her back and
floated.  She sculled her arms languorously, slowly propelling herself
around in a circle.  Her long, loose hair floated around her head in waving
tendrils, like blonde seaweed.  She looked down at her smooth, nude body.
Only her toes, her prominent mound - freshly-depiliated by Dr.  K, but her
mind shied away from that memory - and her nipples poked out of the water.
They stiffened with gooseflesh in the air.

   Karen wiggled her toes, watching the ripples they made in the cold,
clear water.  Her nose was full of the scent of chlorine.  She put her head
back and looked straight up overhead.  Her ears went under the water,
muffling the sounds of the hot night - buzzing insects, a rumble of traffic
on the nearby road, raucous laughter echoing from somewhere in the complex.
A sliver of moon was visible overhead but no stars could be seen through
the haze and the dim orange glow of the few functioning security lights. 
For a few moments she just relaxed, listening to the gentle movement of the
water, feeling her bare chest expand and contract with her breathing, the
cold water lapping soothingly at her labia.  Then she rolled over and
frog-kicked her way to the wall.

   Holding on to the rounded rim of the pool, Karen looked around.  The
pool apron was empty.  Apartment buildings surrounded it, set at odd
angles. Some of the windows were uncurtained and Karen could see figures
moving inside, washed in cheery, yellow lamplight.  A man and a woman
kissed.  A little girl was setting the table with her mommy.  A daddy sat
on a couch watching tv, his arms around two little children.  Karen started
to lever herself out of the pool, but then she realized she had nowhere to
go.  She had no idea which apartment was Moira's and not even a whore could
go knocking on random doors wet and naked.  Her clothing had been taken
from her.  She was miles from her parents, hundreds of miles from home,
lost.  She was suddenly certain she had been forgotten.  When she didn't
return Mommy and Daddy would go home without her.  She would be left here
without clothes, without friends, without hope.

   The eleven-year-old moaned as the strength went out of her and she slid
back into the water.  She folded her thin arms on the edge of the pool,
dropped her head to rest on them, and wept bitterly.  Her skinny shoulders
heaved as she cried, shoulderblades poking out the tan skin.  Her puffy
pre-breasts pressed against the cool, cracked tiles of the pool wall.

   Through her sobs, Karen heard footsteps approaching.  She lifted her
tearstained face and saw Moira looking down at her.  The young woman had
changed into a short, white terrycloth robe that bared her muscular legs to
mid-thigh.  Her brown curls were wet.  She was carrying a large beach
towel, but nothing for Karen to wear.  There was no one with her - Karen's
uncle was nowhere to be seen.  "What's wrong, kitten?" Moira asked, not
unkindly.

   Karen slipped down until only her head and hands were above water.  Her
face was pale against the clear blue of the pool, her eyes round and wide.
She was weak with relief but terrified now of being alone with Moira.  "I
thought...you left me," she managed to gasp out.

   "Oh, no, kitten, we're all just getting ready for your party.  Time for
you to come in, now.  Get on out of the water."

   Karen closed her eyes.  A minute ago she was longing to be somewhere
else; now she wanted to stay here forever or at least until Moira went
away. But she feared the consequences of disobedience more.  She swallowed
hard and pulled herself up out of the pool.  She stood naked before Moira,
looking up at her.  Water dripped off her slender, undeveloped body.  The
skin of her face was tight and despite the warm night she was shivering
with anxiety.  Moira shook the towel out and started drying Karen, touching
her impersonally.  Karen couldn't help but flinch away from her.

   Moira looked at her quizzically.  "What's the matter, kitten?  You
scared?" Karen nodded, her chin wobbling, near tears.  "You scared of me?
How come?"

   "You...you HURT me!" Karen burst out, then gasped and raised her fists
to her chin, as if tensing against a blow.

   "Aw, I'm real sorry about that, kitten," Moira said sweetly.  Her voice
sounded sincere.  "It was just supposed to be a little joke.  I had no idea
it would hurt like that, I swear." Her accent got thicker as she spoke
cajolingly to the preteen.

   "Not just now, you hit me before!" Karen knew she should keep quiet, but
she couldn't help herself.  She had a preadolescent's strong sense of
fairness and Moira had outraged it.

   "Yeah, well, sometimes I get angry." Moira tossed her head.  "But I made
ya feel good, too, didn't I?  Didn't you like the way I ate your little
pussy on the beach?" Karen blushed, remembering the delicious feeling of
Moira's lips on her clitoris, and the naughty pleasure of being
fingerbanged by her, naked in the back seat of her car.  Moira stepped
forward and this time Karen stood still as the tall young woman gently
rubbed the towel against her wet skin.  Her body was coming alive to the
feeling of standing naked outside.  For a fleeting moment she almost
regretted there was no one else to see.

   Moira took Karen's hand and led her away from the pool, sitting her down
on the edge of a chaise lounge.  She sat down behind the naked
eleven-year-old and began brushing out Karen's waist-length blonde hair. 
She was extraordinarily gentle and Karen couldn't help but start to relax
back into her touch.

   "How's your cunt feel, kitten?  All better?"

   The dirty slang term for her privates no longer fazed Karen, no more
than sitting naked outside in a strange place with her privates on full
display, no more than being with an adult who had fingered and kissed and
licked those privates days before, no more than being asked such a personal
question by someone she didn't even like.  She wriggled experimentally,
pressing her vulva against the chair's plastic webbing.  "It doesn't sting
anymore.  I'm still a little sore from...you know, the other day."

   "I got just the thing for that...no, really," Moira laughed as Karen
stiffened and jerked her head around in alarm.  She pulled something from
her pocket but it was difficult to see in the dim light.  Karen leaned
forward, then blinked at the sudden flare of a lighter.  Moira had a
funny-looking cigarette between her lips.  "You ever toke up, kitten?"

   "Toke?" Karen echoed dumbly.  "You mean like...drugs?"

   "Now, you ain't gonna be a silly little kid about this, are ya?  Ain't
nothin' wrong with a little pot, no matter what bullshit they tell ya in
school."

   Karen had indeed sat through a D.A.R.E.  unit earlier in the school
year, but before she could say anything Moira touched the lighter flame to
the end of the twist of paper in her mouth.  It glowed orange as she
inhaled.  She held her breath briefly and then blew out, wreathing their
heads in thick, sweet-smelling smoke.  It tickled Karen's sinuses.  She
wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in the air.  Moira took the joint from
between her lips and held it out.  "You try it.  Go ahead."

   Karen wanted to demur but she heard something in Moira's tone that
warned her not to.  Obediently she took the joint and put it to her lips
but she couldn't figure out how to smoke it.  Her throat closed up and the
smoke went up into her sinuses.  She choked and her eyes watered.

   Moira took the joint back.  "I'll help ya.  This here's called a
'shotgun'." She moved closer to Karen on the chair, their bare knees
touching.  "Now when I blow, you suck.  Breathe in until your lungs are
full, then hold it in as long as you can, okay?"

   Karen nodded.  She was fascinated to watch Moira turn the joint around
and put it lit-end-first into her mouth.  "How come it doesn't burn her?"
she thought, but then Moira put her hand on the back of Karen's neck and
gently pulled the preteen's face towards her own until their lips were
almost touching.  Her robe fell open as she leaned forward and Karen saw
she wasn't wearing anything underneath it.  Karen wondered if she would get
breasts like that, full and round with brown, pointy nipples, but then her
face was full of smoke.  She didn't want to anger Moira so she inhaled,
hard, until her lungs would hold no more.  She clapped one hand over her
mouth.  The smoke filled her chest, roiling and expanding and pushing
against her throat.  In just a few seconds it exploded out of her.  She
bent forward, wracked with uncontrollable coughing.  Drool sprayed on the
pavement between her bare feet.  It seemed like forever before she got
herself under control.  She became aware of Moira's warm hand stroking the
knobs of her spine, the chair's webbing against her chubby cuntlips as she
leaned forward, the rough concrete warm on her soles.  Her throat felt raw
and hot but as soon as she pushed herself upright Moira pulled her close
and did it again.  This time she managed to hold the smoke in a little
longer, but the coughing fit when it came hurt her scraped throat more.

   Karen sat up, blinking in the yellow-eorange sodium light.  It seemed
brighter somehow and she noticed how the air shimmered with humidity.  She
heard the soft tinking sound, high overhead, of bugs flying into the bulbs.
A warm breeze puffed against her and her skin prickled all over.  Her
nipples stiffened and she gasped in sudden, unexpected pleasure.  Moira put
a hand on her bony shoulder and leaned in close.  Her green eyes looked
enormous.  Karen couldn't look away.  Expecting another shotgun, she opened
her mouth but Moira's other hand went around the back of her neck and
pulled their faces together.  Their lips touched.

   Karen's eyes widened in shock.  In the months since she had experienced
her first orgasm, tied naked to a chair in her little sister's bedroom, she
had fucked more times than she could count, with her uncle and with maybe
twenty strangers besides.  At age eleven she had already had more partners
than most adult women would in their entire lives.  But the only sex thing
she had ever done with her mouth was put a cock in it (well, and her
sister's cunny those two times).  She had never been kissed.  With the
marijuana heightening her perceptions, Moira's lips moving against hers
were a revelation.  She groaned involuntarily into the older woman's mouth.
Her tummy went all fluttery and her nipples stiffened further to a pleasant
ache.  Moira's tongue flicked out, rasping gently across her lips and
moving between her teeth.  Karen sucked against the gentle pressure of
intrusion, savoring the warmth and supple roughness.  It tasted delicious.

   "Oh, geez," Karen breathed as Moira sucked on her bottom lip.  She
gasped as sharp little canines nipped and a spike of pleasure shot straight
through her.  She felt her pulse in her heating little snatch and her toes
curled against the pavement.  Her skin burned beneath Moira's touch as her
hands moved around to her front.  She yipped softly as Moira tugged in turn
on both stiff, puffy nips.

   When Moira broke their kiss some unknowable time later, Karen's heart
was pounding and she was panting with preteen lust.  Her eyes were glazed,
her lips swollen and bee-stung.  Her cunt felt hot and wet and juicy.  Her
thoughts were racing in circles; somewhere in the back of her head she knew
this wasn't smart, that Moira was dangerous, but that voice was overwhelmed
by the buzzing need welling up from her button.  Karen had no way of
knowing it was the effects of the marijuana intensifying her senses and
confusing her thoughts.  She simply surrendered to her body as she had
become conditioned to, as she had been taught a whore should.

   Moira opened her robe completely and leaned against the chair's angled
back, spreading her legs around Karen and arching her back.  Karen's gaze
was transfixed on her breasts, so round and full and unlike Karen's own
undeveloped chest.  Without conscious volition Karen saw her own hands come
up and cup them, gently squeezing each boob in turn.  They were warm. 
"Mmm, yeah, kitten, play with my titties if you want.  Oh, yeah.  Pull on
my nips, pull on them you little whore, ahhh..."

   Karen giggled.  "Pull on my nips," she echoed, then exclaimed "Oh!" as
Moira did, almost too hard.  Moira's inner labia were open and glistening
in the dim light.  Karen could smell her, spicy and pungent.  She could
feel her own cunny starting to leak.  She squeezed her skinny naked thighs
together, trying to get some friction against her oversized clitoris.  She
made a little groan of frustration as Moira stopped fondling her and pushed
her own hands away.

   Moira stood, belting her robe loosely.  She dipped into her pocket and
pulled out...something.  Karen blinked her eyes, trying to focus as Moira
held it out.  Karen's brain seemed to be working in slow motion and her
body lagged even further behind.  It was a dog collar, a collar and a
leash, and before Karen could react Moira had fastened the black leather
snugly around her thin neck and was using it to pull her to her feet. 
"Can't have you getting lost," she chuckled as she sauntered out the pool
gate and along the path to one of the apartment buildings, pulling the
naked fifth-grader gently along in her wake.  The leash jingled.

   Karen stumbled on the cracked pathway.  Her body felt light and her toes
a long ways away and she kept her head down, watching carefully where she
stepped.  The leash caught the light as it swung back and forth across her
vision.  She didn't notice when Moira halted and bumped right into her. 
She stepped back, giggling, and realized they were standing in front of a
young man.  He was tall and skinny with long, very black hair, dressed in
ragged denim shorts and a black tshirt.  He had a thin strip of beard down
the center of his chin.  He was staring at Karen with disbelief and hunger,
and she felt herself flushing slightly all over with excitement and a
little embarrassment, though it didn't even enter her drug-addled mind to
cover up.  "Dang, Moy," the young man said.  "Who's your little, uh, pet?"

   "You're comin' over to watch the game, right, Carl?  This here's our
guest of honor.  Introduce yourself, kitten." Moira gave a little jerk on
the leash.

   Karen looked up at Carl; for this, at least, she knew what was expected
of her.  "My name's Karen," she said, her high, childish voice sounding a
little echoey in her ears.  "I'm Karen and I'm a whore." For some reason
Carl thought that was funny.  He guffawed and grabbed Karen's wrist,
raising her hand to his face and sniffing deeply.  Karen's blush erupted in
full force, her face flaming, because she suddenly realized that the whole
way from the pool she had been rubbing her cunny!  She remembered
Hallowe'en when her only costume was body paint on her bare skin.  Just
like then, she was masturbating herself in public, heedless of anyone who
might see.

   Carl held her hand to the light.  Her fingers were shiny with her
juices. The blush spread to her ears and down her neck to her chest and she
did an unconscious wriggling dance of embarrassment, hopping from foot to
bare foot, feeling her baby honey squish out of her as she squeezed her
thighs together.  "It's true," she thought to herself.  "I'm a whore, a
total whore." Nine weeks ago on that chilly October night her embarrassment
had turned to despair, but now it was different.  Even wearing a collar,
even being walked on a leash like a dog, without even the protection of a
concealing paint job, she was a whore and proud of it.  She wasn't afraid.
She knew how to find men to fuck.  She had done it, and she knew when she
got home she would do it again.  Instead of despair, what she felt was
defiance.

   As Carl held her wrist up and licked greedily at her fingers, Karen
spread her stance wider on the uneven path.  "Yeah, I'm a whore," she said,
looking up right into his eyes.  She was still blushing but her high voice
was firm.  "Look at my hot babycunt." She slid her other hand down between
her legs, fingers stiff and cupped together.  She gasped and her knees
trembled as she rubbed at her slick clitoris.  It swelled further beneath
her touch.  She opened her legs wider still, bending her knees slightly and
pushing her hairless mons forward.  "Touch my babycunt," she said, her eyes
darting back and forth between the two adults, Carl's bemused stare and
Moira's smirk.  "Go on, touch it.  Touch my babycunt.  Touch my babycunt."
Her voice got breathier as she chanted.  Her fingers moved faster and
faster, making a slick sound as she flicked her oversized clitty from side
to side.  Preadolescent sex juices oozed out of her tight little hole,
coating her hand and tickling her sensitive skin as they dripped down her
thighs.

   Then it happened.  "Ah, ah, ah!  Touch my...ah!  babycunt.  Ah, ah, no,
no, oh, ooh, OH!  OH!  OH!" It wasn't a big orgasm, but it had been
building since Moira had kissed her.  Her vision went gray and her knees
buckled.  For a second all she could hear was the pounding of her heart and
her harsh panting.  Carl's hand around her wrist kept her from falling
over. She took a deep breath, then another as she got her feet back under
her.  She brushed her blonde hair back from her face, smearing her own cunt
juice on her cheek, and looked up at him again.

   "Dang," he repeated.  His gaze roved over Karen's nude, diminutive form,
her straight figure and hairless, undeveloped vulva.  "How old is she,
anyway?"

   "What's that?" Moira answered.  "I couldn't hear you."

   "I said...oh." Carl rolled his eyes.  "Yeah, I'll be by." He glanced at
his watch.  "Kickoff's in about half an hour.  See you then." And he
strolled off, chuckling.