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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 23 (Karen's Party 2) (M+g, Fg, ped, mast, oral,
prost, bond, humil, forced-exhib, nc, reluc, cons, booze and pot,
dissociative mental state) by Rufus Fugit

   "Well, what do you think?"

   From where I lay sprawled across Moira's bed, I could see Karen's
reflection staring dazedly back at herself.  She was seated in a wicker
chair in front of the vanity.  Except for the bright bulbs around the
mirror, the only other light in the room was a dim reading lamp with a red
scarf tossed over it on the nightstand.  Moira stood behind Karen, putting
the finishing touches on the fifth-grader's hair.  She had changed her
white terrycloth robe for a thin, royal-blue satin wrap - still with
nothing underneath - and a pair of strappy sandals, and then had spent the
past half hour deftly making up Karen's face.

   Karen's lashes were jet-black, thick and curled.  Her blue eyes were
dramatically set off by a careful blending of eyeshadow colors.  The lines
of her nose and cheekbones were sharply accented with two different shades
of blush.  She had squirmed and giggled when Moira had used the same brush
to add color to her puffy, cherry-sized nipples and her smooth, hairless
labia.  Her mouth shone with Moira's glossy red lipstick.  Her
normally-straight blonde hair curled around her face and tumbled down her
back in loose waves.  Several colorfully-wrapped mini-braids dangled on
both sides of her oval face.  Now, as Moira swept the curls back with her
fingers, I could see the only garment my niece was wearing, a black leather
dog collar.  The chain lead was looped around one of the posts topping the
chair's backrest, tethering her with enough slack to turn in the chair but
not enough to stand.  Karen's ankles were crossed, the painted toenails of
one bare, thin foot just brushing the worn beige shag carpeting.

   There was another knock at the front door of the apartment, followed by
the slap of Renee's sandaled feet running from the kitchen, where we had
given her the task of pouring chips and pretzels into plastic bowls and
setting them out.  I heard the door open, then the third-grader's high
voice welcoming the new arrival.  She was taking her responsibilities as
hostess seriously.

   Karen had already been pretty thoroughly ripped when Moira brought her
in from the pool, tugging her into the apartment by the leash attached to
the snug black leather dog collar.  Moira had lit another joint while she
worked, alternately passing it to me and blowing shotguns into the child's
face.  When Karen complained of cottonmouth Moira had given her one and
then a second malt beverage, which the eleven-year-old had guzzled as if
they were the grape soda they tasted like.  Karen was a lightweight,
literally - she probably weighed 75 pounds at the most - and the alcohol
and marijuana had swept away what little modesty and self-control she still
had.  Now she swayed in the seat, thighs scissoring open and closed as her
right hand idly stroked her bare vulva.  She'd been masturbating like that
since she first sat down; she seemed not even to be aware she was doing it.
Her thighs and her puffy, irritated labia were shiny with her secretions.
There was a dark, spreading stain on the chair's thin cushion and even on
the other side of the room I caught a faint whiff of aroused preteen pussy.
Occasionally Karen's eyelids would flutter closed in pleasure as her slimed
fingers brushed over her swollen, glistening clitoris, and with enough
coaxing she followed Moira's instructions to close her eyes, look up, purse
her lips and the like, but for the most part she just watched her
transformation with a goofy, stoned half-smile.

   At last Moira was satisfied.  She unlooped the dog lead from the chair
and pulled gently.  Karen's head rolled to the side from the pressure of
the leather digging into her neck and she came shakily to her feet.  Moira
put her hands on the naked fifth-grader's bony shoulders and spun her to
face me.  "What do you think?" she repeated.

   What I thought was evident from the tent in my shorts.  I stroked my
hand over the outline of my stiff shaft.  Even though her face looked like
it belonged to a fashion model twice her age, the contrast between it and
Karen's childish, barely-developed body made her look if anything younger
than her eleven years.  But there was no trace of the naive, innocent girl
she had been just six months ago.  She looked every inch the sex-obsessed
child prostitute I had convinced her she was destined to be.  My breath
caught in my throat and my pecker strained against my zipper as I recalled
the innumerable times I had sunk into her hot, grasping, oh-so-tight
juvenile hole.  Whether lubricated only by her own flood of pubescent love
honey or augmented with the semen of ten or a dozen others before me, the
only thing I enjoyed as much as her tight, supple vaginal muscles squeezing
and twisting around my adult hardness was the feeling of penetrating her
younger sister's ass.

   Karen's head bobbed slightly in time to some music only she could hear.
She cupped her palm over her prominent mound and slid her middle finger up
and down the shiny, moist furrow between her rouged and reddened bald
labia. It made a soft, sticky sound.  Moira's hands were drifting down from
the girl's shoulders to her erect, puffy nipples when Renee walked into the
bedroom.  "I've got all the bowls filled and you told me to tell you when
it was ten minutes before seven...Karen!" She broke off when she spied her
older sister standing naked in the center of the room.  She ran and flung
her arms around the taller girl in a fierce hug.

   Renee had been present throughout Karen's unconventional sexual
education.  Her own had proceeded in tandem, gentler but no less
unconventional, so she no longer saw anything unusual about the
eleven-year-old exposing herself and masturbating in front of adults.  But
Karen had been in terrible pain when Renee saw her last as a result of
Moira's practical joke.  While the younger girl accepted my explanation
that Moira had skills that Karen needed to learn in order to satisfy the
voracious sexual appetite I had found and encouraged in her, she didn't
like or trust my erstwhile lover.  She had been worried about her sister.

   Karen responded slowly as the warmth of her little sister's body
penetrated her drug-hazed mind.  She extracted her right arm from between
their bodies to wrap her sister in a full-body hug.  Renee was just exactly
a head shorter; Karen's chin rested atop her wavy brown hair.  Renee's face
was turned towards me, her eyes closed.  "I love you, Karen.  Wow, you look
so pretty.  Are you OK?"

   Karen nodded slowly.  "Love you, too," she murmured thickly.  Her hands
wandered up and down Renee's back over the elastic of her tie-dyed
sundress. Then she squeezed harder as her thin frame began to move against
her sister's stockier form.

   Renee squirmed in her big sister's suddenly tight embrace and pushed
away.  She looked down at herself with an expression of perplexed dismay.
Her innie bellybutton was outlined in a fresh wet spot on the thin fabric
of her dress.  Freed from the hug, Karen's right hand moved back between
her legs.  She bent her knees for better access, heedless of the obscene
display as she used two fingers to spread her labia wide.  She giggled,
then sighed as her middle finger pressed her swollen, blood-flushed clitty.
"Karen!" Renee burst out as she realized the stain on her clothing was from
Karen's leaking cunny.  She lifted the wet fabric up to her face and
sniffed it, exposing her sturdy bare legs and a flash of pale pink panties.
She wrinkled her nose in disgust.  "You yucky whore!" Karen just giggled
again, a far cry from her response to that epithet in days gone by.  Her
eyes were deeply bloodshot beneath drooping eyelids.  She was completely
toasted.

   I spoke up.  "Is everybody here, Renee?"

   "Lotsa people.  Joey and I forget what his brother's name is, they
brought a cooler.  He let me try to lift it but I can't.  He put it in the
kitchen, is that OK?"

   "Perfect.  I think it's time to introduce Karen to all the other party
guests, don't you?"

   Taking my cue, Moira gently pulled Karen's right hand away from her
crotch.  Karen licked her lips, her childish brow lowered and her mouth
worked as if she were figuring out a very complicated problem.  When her
half-hearted effort to free her wrist failed, without looking up or opening
her eyes her left hand stole to her sticky mound to replace it.  Moira took
her left wrist as well, holding the child's hands away from her body. 
Karen struggled a little harder now, then leaned forward and pressed
herself against Moira's muscular leg.  "Huh...uh-huh...uh-huh..." She made
little grunting sounds and her naked back and ass undulated slowly as she
hunched her hairless cunt against Moira, rucking up the satin wrap.

   "Christ a-mighty," Moira laughed helplessly.  With both her hands
holding both of Karen's it was a stalemate.  "Go in my nightstand drawer,
will you?" she spoke to no one in particular.  I rolled over on the bed and
opened the drawer.  It proved to contain an assortment of sex toys - or at
least I assumed some of them were sex toys, I couldn't really see how they
would work but I didn't know what else they could be - and a handful of zip
ties.

   "Heyyyy..." Karen protested mildly when she felt the plastic strip pull
tight around her wrists.  It took a moment before she realized that her
hands were secured behind her back.  With her own hands no longer occupied
in restraining the child, Moira spun her around and added another tie
around her forearms.  Karen grunted as her shoulders were pulled back
uncomfortably, forcing her to arch her back and push out her undeveloped
chest.  The slightly stressed position emphasized the still-childish curve
of her belly.  She started to whine and struggle harder, twisting her hands
and torso in a futile effort to reach her bindings.  I ushered Renee out of
the room as Moira pulled Karen's leash taut, cutting her voice off in a
choked squeak.

   The living room was full of men.  Well, from my perspective they were
mostly boys, college boys Moira's age, though a handful looked younger. 
There were a couple that were older, including one balding fellow with a
neat salt-and-pepper beard.  He was accompanied by two boys, one maybe 15,
the other looking barely older than Karen herself.  Dress was for the most
part tshirts, shorts, flip-flops and ball caps.  Nearly everyone had a
beer, and there was a slight odor of pot hanging in the air.  The a/c was
running full blast but having a hard time keeping up with this many bodies.
There was a buzz of conversation as they watched the pregame show on a
large flatscreen tv hanging over the fake fireplace, where an announcer
babbled over the crowd noise of a packed stadium.

   I collected a beer for myself and a Dr.  Pepper for Renee before
settling us in an overstuffed wing chair off to one side of the large room.
It was crowded with a mismatched assortment of chairs and two sofas.  They
were all occupied save one: a low wicker bench in front of the hearth,
turned away from the television, facing all the other seating.  Besides the
tv and what spilled out of the adjoining kitchen, the only light in the
room was a single track spot that illuminated the wicker bench.  The
lighting muted the generic landlord white of the walls and the rather
hideous mustard-rust-dun of the stained and well-worn carpeting.

   Moira came in from the hallway.  She was holding the leash pulled taut,
its other end out of sight down the hall.  She tugged gently at first, then
with a no-nonsense jerk Karen stumbled into view.  Conversation in the room
died as all eyes turned to see a naked preteen, arms bound tight behind
her, tethered to Moira by the collar pressing into the skin of her neck. 
Karen strained back against the leash, digging her bare heels into the
carpet but off-balance from her restraints.  Even from the far side of the
room I could see how she paled when confronted by the crowd of adult men.
Her eyes went wide, showing bloodshot white all the way around her dilated
pupils.  Two smudges of pink appeared high on her painted cheekbones.  Her
puffy nipples poked out and the inverted vee of her ribcage rose and fell
as she gasped for breath.

   * * *

   Karen's dazed brain was reeling with shock at being so suddenly exposed
to a roomful of strangers.  The fog of arousal that had sustained her
self-confidence blew away, leaving her chilled and gasping.  Moira was
speaking.  "Everyone, I'd like you to meet our guest of honor for tonight.
Introduce yourself, kitten."

   Karen gulped, feeling her face heat.  She opened her mouth, but nothing
came out.  She stood there gaping at the crowded room until Moira jerked
impatiently at her leash.  That produced a choking gasp and the pressure on
her throat finally prodded her to speak.  In a quavering voice she
stammered, "I'm K...Karen and...and I'm a...a whore." Her voice echoed in
her ears, sounding strange and far-away.

   Karen flinched back as the room erupted in cheers.  Several of the
grownups got up and came over to where she stood naked.  She shrank away
but the leash brought her up short.  They surrounded her, cutting off her
view of the room.  She was panting with fear as hands went all over her
bare body, stroking her back, her shoulders, her belly, her face and mouth,
pulling and pinching her nipples.  She jumped as her ass cheeks were spread
apart and a finger probed her anus.  Another pressed on her clitoris,
making her gasp and shudder as pleasure lanced through her fear.  She
didn't feel like a whore now.  A whore was bold and sexy and in control,
but Karen only felt trapped, trapped and scared.  She was a scared little
girl and she was alone.

   "OK guys, that's enough, y'all sit down." Reluctantly, the men went back
to their seats.  Moira led the trembling naked child to the wicker bench at
the front of the room.  "Karen has very kindly agreed to be our whore for
the evening, but she made some conditions.  She's been fucking a lot this
last week, and her cunt is pretty sore, isn't that right, kitten?" Karen
managed a shaky nod, flinching again as derisive laughter filled the room.

   "How many?" someone called out.  Karen's eyes were fixed on her toes so
she didn't see who, but Moira jerked hard again on her collar.

   "Carl asked you a question, kitten.  How many guys have you fucked?"

   Karen couldn't make herself look up.  Somehow, the answer didn't seem
something to be proud of just now.  "I...I don't know," she whispered. 
Tears gathered in her eyes and she blushed as the room exploded again in
whooping and cheers.

   "Ain't that somethin'?" Moira's voice sounded from behind her.  "She
just started fucking a few weeks ago and already she's lost count, the
silly whore.  Anyways, we wanna take it easy on her hot little pussy so
rule one is, you do not talk about Fight Club." There was a puzzled
silence. "Just kidding.  Rule one is, no penetration durin' the game." As
she spoke, she pressed on Karen's quaking shoulders, pushing her down onto
the center of the low bench seat.  Her bound arms slid behind the backrest.
The wicker felt rough and scratchy against her naked butt.  "Rule two is,
don't forget to tip your whore." Moira turned and took a large vase with a
wide mouth of the mantelpiece and put it on the carpet next to the bench.

   "If we can't fuck her, what good is she?" someone called out.

   "She's gonna be our rabbit's foot for the game," Moira answered.  "Y'all
know what to do with a rabbit's foot, right?" She paused dramatically. 
"You rub it for luck!" Karen gasped and jumped in the chair as Moira's
hands slid down her bare torso.  She jerked forward as her nipples were
flicked, but then fell back into the seat choking because Moira had
shortened the lead to almost nothing and clipped it to the chair back.  She
moaned and pressed her knees together, twisting sideways as far as her
bound arms and neck would let her and trying to curl into a ball.

   "Uh-uh, that won't work," Moira said.  She stepped around to the front
of the bench and knelt.  She grabbed one bare ankle and pulled,
straightening Karen's leg out to one side and holding her foot over the arm
of the bench.  Karen winced as her hip joint protested.  She slid down in
the seat until she was sitting on her spine, the backrest hitched her
armpits and her foot was almost at the height of her shoulders.  There was
a metallic racheting sound and the feel of cold metal on her ankle.  Karen
looked up, horrified to see a pair of handcuffs tethering her ankle to the
arm of the bench.

   "No, oh no, oh no, ohnonono," Karen whimpered as Moira took hold of her
other ankle.  She tried to kick out but she was already so restrained that
it was useless.  She felt herself being spread wide, cool air as her slit
was pulled open, then another "snick!" Moira stood and stepped back,
smiling at her handiwork.  Karen's ankles were cuffed to the bench, her
neck clipped to the back, her arms pinioned helplessly behind it.  She was
spread-eagled, her hairless cunt and anus open wide for the audience.  The
chrome handcuffs rattled against the wicker as she tried to kick but she
had almost no slack.  Her feet twisted, bare soles shining in the
spotlight, toes curling and flexing in agitation.  Her puffy, spread labia
gleamed with moisture and the tendons on her inner thighs stood out taut,
moving in her skinny legs as she strained.  The muscles of her abdomen
tensed as she twisted her torso from side to side, the bright light
catching the fine hairs covering her baby six-pack.  She fought for breath,
choking against the leather collar digging into her neck.

   Something inside Karen's intoxicated brain snapped as she struggled
futilely against her bondage.  Memories of the past months unreeled
backwards behind her open, unseeing eyes.  Prancing proudly naked around
the beach; propositioning Mister Jim and riding his fat cock in the storage
room; orgasming with her clitoris pressed against freezing metal; grinding
her pussy against her little sister's protesting mouth; cold, rough stone
digging into her back as one cock after another spurted hot cum down her
throat and split her burning babycunt; Mister Nate's smile as he stripped
her in his studio; screaming in shock and pain as a cock speared her for
the very first time, stretching her labia impossibly wide; kneeling naked
on wet grass, almost delirious with shame and need as her uncle's penis
throbbed in her mouth; frantically, desperately masturbating night after
night after night.  It all fell away until she was back where she started -
a scared little girl, tied naked to a chair.

   "God, oh God, oh God, please," she begged silently.  She couldn't help
herself even though she knew it was useless.  She knew God wouldn't answer
her prayers.  She knew He wanted her to get fucked, but it was all too much
for her.  "Please make it stop.  Please make it go away.  Please, God,
please." Her head flopped back and her eyes clamped shut, hot tears
squeezing out the corners and running down into her ears.  "Huuuuh,
uh-huuuuh, uh-huuuuh," she sniveled uncontrollably.  She wanted to scream
but like in nightmares she couldn't seem to get her breath.  Her thighs
ached as she strained to close them but it was impossible.

   Karen sensed movement next to her.  A shadow darkened the inside of her
closed lids and before she could react, rough hands tangled in her hair and
twisted her head to the side.  Something warm and stiff slapped against one
cheek.  She opened her eyes and squinted through a blur of tears.  An adult
form loomed above her, a chubby, beardless man wearing a seed cap and a
sleeveless tshirt.  Right in front of her face, though, was something she
was all too familiar with.  A thick, veiny, uncircumcised penis sprouted
from a tangled nest of black pubic hair.  It smelled of sweat and even more
strongly and unpleasantly of the odor Karen just thought of as male.  Her
fear and confusion turned to terror.  The whore had deserted her.  She
strained against her bondage, choking and crying quietly, scraping her
ankles against the cold metal cuffs, wrenching her shoulders and pulling
futilely against the plastic digging into her wrists and forearms.

   But to no avail.  When she clamped her lips tight, fingers probed at the
hinge of her jaw.  Pain bloomed and she couldn't help but open up.  As soon
as she did the man rocked his hips forward and his fat, evil-smelling
erection surged past her lips and stuffed her mouth full, gagging her.

   Karen gagged, but as the tube of stiff, veined flesh slid over her lips
and its heat and musky flavor filled her mouth, it was like God granted her
prayer, sort of: she was begging Him to make it go away, but she went away
instead.  Suddenly the whore was there, shoving aside the panicked, crying
little girl.  Karen could still see and hear - and taste and feel -
everything, but as if from a very great distance, so far away that it
didn't hurt her or matter at all.  She could let the whore take over.  To
the whore a mouthful of adult penis wasn't terrifying.  It was normal, even
comforting.  She began sucking expertly.  The blunt head bulged out the
elastic skin of her cheek as she slid her tongue around the crown, flicking
it against the frenum.  Saliva filled her mouth and drooled down her chin.
She cast her eyes upwards as her vision cleared, looking into the man's
face.  She slurped loudly and tried to push her lips into a smile around
the thick flesh pole.  She hummed, just for a second, and saw his eyes
widen in shocked pleasure.  Even naked, bound barely able to move, her
babycunt split wide open and on display to a roomful of grownups, she felt
a surge of triumph.  She was tied to the chair, but this adult man's
pleasure was tied to her.  The whore was in charge, and she liked it.

   "Hey!" Moira's voice called from the kitchen.  "What'd I say about no
penetration?" The man released Karen's head and stepped back.  His cock
pulled out of her mouth with an audible pop.  Karen saw it had a fresh ring
of red around the shaft before he fumbled it back into his pants.  She
licked her lips, tasting precum and her smeared lipstick.  He retreated a
step as Moira came back into the room.  She held something in front of
Karen's face.  It was a hundred-dollar bill.  Karen had never seen one
before close-up.  "Just to make it interesting, we're gonna have a little
contest." She turned to hold up the bill for the room.  "Whoever makes the
little whore cum first gets a hundred.  Unless..." she crouched down to
look Karen in the eye.  "If you can go the whole first half of the game
without havin' an orgasm, kitten, this goes in your tip jar.  Understand?
Everybody understand?  Then let's get started!"

   Karen craned her neck to wipe her mouth and chin on her bare shoulder,
then looked boldly out at the room from between her spread legs.  In a
loud, firm voice the whore asked, "Who wants to touch my hot babycunt?"
Everyone cheered, and the crowd roared on the tv behind her.  Kickoff!