Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. 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, that'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. First posted: 26/08/2006. This and other stories available at /files/Authors/rufusfugit. Jenny's Couch, part 5 (Mg, ped, mast, semi-nc, reluc, cons, humil, exhib) by Rufus Fugit Jenny needed a favor. She was taking a continuing ed class for a new certification. It was a special session at the community college for working people and the schedule was intense: four and a half hours every weekday evening for four weeks. That meant she wouldn't get home until after ten p.m., and since Rob worked second shift he typically got home even later. They felt that Karen and Renee were too young to be alone in the house for that long every night. The problem was, their regular babysitter had graduated and gone off to college. They had a new girl, a middle-schooler, but Jenny and the girl's parents agreed she wasn't yet ready to spend every evening for a month babysitting, especially with the new school year just underway. So Jenny had asked me if I knew any young people who were both mature enough and interested in giving up every weeknight for a month to babysit a nine- and eleven-year-old. In fact, I did - my friend and former-midlife-crisis-lust-object, Moira. She was now nineteen or twenty, but I had met her when she was thirteen and her entire family joined the gym where I was training. We still kept in touch and I had a feeling she would really enjoy getting to know Karen, but for now I had other plans. So instead I offered myself as a babysitter. I was working a short-term job in town, I explained, and driving two hours each way from my house was exhausting while a hotel room was expensive and uncomfortable. Jenny was happy to accept. The kids liked me and I was trustworthy as far as she knew. So it was that on a Sunday evening I was making up their monster of a sectional couch into the guest bed I would be using for the next month. Over dinner, Jenny and I discussed the routine for the coming month with the girls. I told them I had arranged my work schedule so I would be done early most days and I'd get there at about the same time they got home from school, maybe a little sooner. They'd be expected to behave, to do their homework before playing or watching tv just like they did when they got home to an empty house, and so on. Renee was excited to learn that I'd be their houseguest for a whole month. She kicked her short legs underneath the table while she ate, wriggled in her chair and tossed her thick brown braids from side to side - a little ball of energy. She chattered away to me, enough that Jenny had to caution her twice about talking with her mouth full. Karen, on the other hand, sat mostly silent, staring at her plate and poking listlessly at her food with her fork. Her long blond hair fell forward to hide her oval face but occasionally I caught her shooting worried glances at me from beneath her lowered brow. I winked and smiled at her, imagining the delectable preteen charms concealed by her tshirt and shorts. It was hard to tell the way she was sitting hunched over but I thought her lovely nipples were swelling further, on the verge of becoming actual titties. And now I would have a whole month to play with them. As we finished the meal I offered to help the girls with their chore of clearing the table while Jenny cleared off the stove and put up the leftovers. We made short work of it; as Karen and I loaded the last plates into the dishwasher our heads were almost touching and I took the opportunity to whisper just one word in her ear: "whore". Her thin shoulders stiffened and for the first time that evening she looked right at me. I saw shame and a little panic in her wide blue eyes. Her mother's back was turned to us and I quickly reached out and, smiling right into her shocked face, squeezed one of her plump little ass cheeks. The young girl stifled an involuntary squeak and fled the room. Later, after the girls were in bed and Rob had gotten home we sat around the couch, drinks in hand, discussing the children. "I guess it's just the puberty express approaching," Jenny sighed ruefully, "but Karen's gotten so moody lately. She hardly ever smiles, spends hours locked in her room - and she's gotten downright obsessive about cleanliness. Renee's always complaining she's hogging the bathroom. For some reason she's especially worried about her teeth. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that I don't have to force her to get in the shower, but I can hear that stupid electric toothbrush going for fifteen minutes some nights." I smiled inwardly, knowing that it wasn't her teeth the fifth-grader was obsessed with. The next morning I was up and out of the house well before anyone else so that I could put in my eight hours and be done in time to meet the children after school. The timing worked out perfectly; they were just walking up the block as I pulled into the driveway. I got out of the car and watched them approach. They were both bent forward under the weight of absurdly-filled backpacks. I didn't remember ever having to tote that much crap around when I was in elementary school. Renee was wearing a white polo shirt, beige skorts, and sneakers. Her brown hair was in the customary two braids. Today her older sister had on a pink sleeveless blouse that bared her lovely thin, tanned shoulders and a short pleated skirt in a matching color. Her coltish legs were bare down to some dressy white sandals. Her waist-length blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail high on the back of her head and swung sexily from side to side as she walked. When Renee saw me she grabbed her heavy backpack's shoulder straps and lurched into an awkward run, calling my name. Karen, though, stopped dead on the sidewalk. After a moment she visibly forced herself to start moving again, trudging on as if to her execution. I never wanted the little girl to be quite so fearful of me. As the children approached I was mentally revising my plan for the afternoon. A couple of weeks had passed since the wedding that had been Karen's last big day with me. She had learned a lot about herself that day. She'd spent a good part of the afternoon naked in public - first forced to sprint across the mall parking lot in a downpour, then masturbating me to orgasm in my truck, and then finally learning how to give a killer blowjob in her elementary school parking lot. It was only after she swallowed my cum that I allowed her release, jamming two fingers up her juvenile cunny and wringing what had looked like a soul-shaking orgasm from her developing body. Exhausted after that, she had fallen asleep and I'd been unable to rouse her even with vigorous cunnilingus. That afternoon she became a preteen whore, or at least so I had convinced her. I had taken her nascent sexuality and her childish, church-inspired guilt over it and turned it into an obsessive, all-encompassing ache in her body and her heart and her cunt; now I had a month to solidify that as part of her self-image. But while I had used that guilt and shame to get through her defenses and into her cute little panties, I certainly didn't want them to completely ruin her life, if for no other reason than if her upset became too obvious it might lead to a heart-to-heart with Jenny or Rob or a counselor. I wanted her to become my slut, but I needed her to be at least a willing, if not necessarily a happy slut. Renee threw her arms around my waist in an enthusiastic hug, her round face beaming up at me. "Hi, sweetie! Did you have a good day at school?" "Uh huh! We learned about frogs and how they grow from tadpoles in swamps!" She launched into a nine-year-old's stream-of-consciousness report of her day, chattering on so that I almost missed it when she said, "...and I saw Karen masturbating at recess..." "Whoa, there!" I stopped her. Karen was just turning up the walk. I lowered my voice so the older girl wouldn't hear. "You saw your sister playing with her cunny outside? Did anyone else see?" "Nuh-uh, she hid," Renee replied brightly. "She was sitting on the grass, you know, where she sucked on your thingy and you squirted in her mouth? There were cars parked there so no one could see, and she was leaning against the wall under the windows, and she had her skirt up, and her hand was inside her panties, and her eyes were closed and she was making funny little noises, and then she kinda shivered all over and she took her hand out and wiped it on the grass." "And where were you while all this was going on? You were spying on her a little, weren't you?" "Well...kinda," the child admitted. "But she's been all weird and sad lately. I haveta make sure she's OK. I wish she wasn't sad like that." I hugged Renee hard. "You're such a good girl to care about your sister like that. I know why she's acting sad, and I'll explain later, OK? And I think I know how to make her happy again." Karen had finally reached the porch. "But let's go inside now and have a snack, and then we can get your homework done. I want to be able to tell your mom that we got right to work and finished it quick!" And with that I turned and shepherded the two little girls into the dimness and cool of their home. I locked the front door behind us. I gave the girls some grapes and a couple of cookies for a snack; they ate mostly in silence. Then I shooed them upstairs to change out of their school clothes, but I walked right behind Karen into her room and shut the door behind me. In contrast to her little sister's bedroom, her space was almost painfully neat. The wooden-framed daybed was made, the pillows and her favorite stuffed animals ranked just so. The floor was clear, the drawers of her bureau closed, her desktop clean. Even her bulletin board was carefully arranged, all the photos evenly spaced and symmetrical. Karen was staring up at me in confusion and not a little dread. She feared that I had followed her into her room to molest her yet again, but more than that that she feared her own response to the repeated sexual abuse - she feared her own body and the extreme, uncontrollable pleasure it felt. "I have to change," she said dully. "Yes, go ahead," I replied neutrally. "I just want to talk to you while you dress." As she still hesitated, I repeated, "Go ahead. It's not like I haven't seen everything already." Sighing, or perhaps sniffling a little, the fifth-grader gave in. Turning her back to me, she unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off her shoulders. She was wearing a little girl's sleeveless undershirt beneath made of ribbed white cotton with lace edging at the wide armholes and neckline. Without removing her sandals she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. Her panties were white with a pattern of little cartoon pink-and-yellow butterflies. I watched without comment as she bent to pick up the discarded garments. Her panties rode up beyond her tan line, showing off her creamy white buttocks, just beginning to flare into a womanly shape, while the knobs of her spine emphasized the childish lines of her back beneath her undershirt. She stepped around me, as far away from me as she could in the small room to deposit the skirt and blouse in her hamper. As she turned to the bureau, I sat down on her bed and said her name. "Come sit down with me, Karen. I want to talk to you." "I have to change," she repeated. "In a minute. This is important." Shoulders slumped in defeat, she sat down on the very edge of the far end of the mattress. "No, come here," I said, patting my stomach. I reached out and took her by the shoulders and half-guided, half-dragged her until she was leaning back against my chest, her butt pressed against my crotch as I leaned back on her pillows. Of course my cock started to swell from the warm pressure of her preteen ass, and of course she felt it. I stroked a hand gently down her chest, dragging each finger individually across her left nipple where it poked out the thin undershirt. Karen gasped and squirmed her torso at the intimate touch, but her face didn't show any pleasure. Her expression was of pure misery. "Karen, what's the matter?" I asked. Even though I knew full well what the matter was, I needed for Karen to tell me in her own words to have something to work with. "What is it?" I repeated when she just shook her head. I bent to speak softly directly into her ear. Her fine blond hair tickled my nose and the scent of her baby shampoo and soap aroused me further. "I can tell you're not happy. Even your sister can tell. Renee's worried about you, and so am I. Please, can't you tell me what's wrong?" As I spoke I continued rubbing my hand slowly across her undershirt, gently stroking and pinching her cherry-sized nipples, pressing my palm against the little pads of fat I could feel puffing out around them, the beginnings of what would be beautiful breasts. Her bony shoulder blades poked into my chest as she twisted her thin torso in my grip. Her gasps got louder with each tweak of my fingers until suddenly she burst into tears. I had to hold her tightly as she tried to double over away from me. Taking a deep breath, she wailed "I don't WANT to be a whore!" and broke anew into wild sobbing, burying her face in her hands. I let her cry herself out. I held her, rocking back and forth, stroking her high forehead, murmuring little nonsense sounds of comfort into her ear. I also continued caressing her immature breasts; even while sobbing she made little gasps and twitches as her puffy nipples stiffened under my fingers. When her sobs had diminished to sniffles I spoke. "You like having money to spend, don't you?" Cheek-to-cheek with my chin over her thin shoulder, I felt her nod. "And I know you like feeling sexy -" I wiggled her right nipple and was rewarded with a little "oh!" of pleasure "- so what's the matter? If you're a whore you get to do lots of fun sexy things, and people pay you money for it. Why wouldn't you want to do that?" "But bad things happen to whores! I saw on tv. They get arrested, and they go to jail, and they get beat up, and they get on drugs, and they die! I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up. I don't want to go to jail! I don't want...oh, stop, stop!" Karen twisted in my grasp, trying to escape my fondling, trying to escape her arousal, trying to escape the unhappy future her childish imagination had concocted for her. "No, I won't stop," I said as I twisted her nipples harder through the thin undershirt. She groaned, now in pleasure not unmixed with pain. "I won't stop, and you don't want me to. You don't want me to because you're a whore, and no matter what your mouth tells me, your body knows it. If you weren't a whore, you wouldn't be enjoying this right now." "I'm NOT enjoying it! Stop, please! PLEASE! OW!" Karen was struggling in earnest now to get away from my increasingly firm mauling of her sensitive titties. She twisted and kicked out her thin legs, but I had a firm hold of her with my arm across her stomach and she couldn't break it. I was now pulling hard on each nipple in turn, pinching it tightly between thumb and fingers through her thin cotton undershirt, stretching it out away from her chest as far as it would go and twisting it around before letting it snap back. Little whines and grunts of pain forced themselves out of the preteen's throat and tears were beginning to leak from her eyes again. The bucking of her warm, firm ass against my crotch brought my cock to full mast inside my cotton trousers and I rotated my hips against her. "You are enjoying it, you whore!" I made my voice sound rough and angry. "You're enjoying it so much that your babycunt's all hot and wet right now. Isn't it?" Karen shook her head wildly. "Don't lie to me!" I shouted and pinched her right nipple really hard, digging in with my thumbnail. "OW! NO! NOOOOO!" she screamed back, now desperately trying to get away. "LIAR!" I twisted her nipple as hard as I could and shoved my other hand into her panties. Sure enough, the fifth-grader was lubricating. Of course it was a result of my earlier, gentler ministrations and not from the frank abuse I was now subjecting her to, but that didn't matter. I rubbed my middle finger between her slippery, smooth labia once, twice, three times to get it thoroughly coated with her baby honey, then without further preamble curled the finger and jammed it up her nearly-virgin channel. A scream cut off in her throat at the shock of the sudden penetration. Her body went rigid, her legs shot out straight, even her delicate, pink-painted toenails strained against the soles of her sandals. I abandoned her tortured little titties and clamped that arm around her chest, pressing her slim body to me. I partially withdrew and then pushed my finger back into her once, twice, a third time. I ground my palm against her erect clitoris, feeling it slip back and forth as her cunt cream squished out and coated her crotch. With each thrust Karen made a strangled gasp in my ear. I could feel the hot breath gust out of her. Cords in her neck stood out as she threw her head back. Her face was beet-red and tracked with tears, her eyes screwed closed. With my finger still embedded in the little girl, I eased off a little bit. My hand still curled over her nearly bald mons, more lightly rubbing at the stiff little nubbin beneath. She sagged against me, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out in a ragged half-sob. I felt her groin muscles clenching and releasing against my invading finger as little shocks of pleasure radiated through her body. "There," I said, speaking gently now, planting little kisses on her wet cheek as I spoke, "Why would you lie to me? Isn't that better? You need this, honey. If you didn't need it, you wouldn't be sitting outside at recess doing it to yourself." I felt her body tense again. "You're lucky your little sister loves you, and you're lucky only she saw you. If you need it so bad you can't even wait until you get home from school, if you're willing to risk everyone at school seeing you play with that babycunt - you're a whore. Aren't you? Aren't you?" I insisted, wiggling my finger in her tight preteen cunt for emphasis. Karen broke down crying again, quietly this time. "Yes," she sobbed out. "I can't help it. Oh, I can't. I'm going to die. I'm going to die, I'm never going to grow up, never..." I sat up, rocking the crying child's thin body gently. As her weight shifted forward, pressing her mound against my palm, my finger was driven deeper inside her. Karen groaned and without even realizing what she was doing rotated her slim hips around the invading digit. I stroked her forehead and smoothed back her damp golden hair as I spoke. "Shh, Karen, it's all right. I love you, shh. Karen, it's not like that. Calm down. In the first place, that's just tv. It's not real, it's just stories. In the second place, the women in those stories are poor, they come from terrible families, and they're having sex just to survive. Look at you. Look at your lovely home, your room, all the nice stuff you have. You're never going to have to suck a penis just to have money to eat. Never. Besides, women like that aren't whores the same way you're a whore. It's a whole different thing." I had Karen's attention now. Tears still leaked from her eyes but her breathing was under control except for little hitches and gasps as her clitty ground against my palm. "What do you mean? I don't understand." "You're a whore the same way I'm a musician. You know I like playing the flute, right? I get together with friends and we jam, and occasionally I sit in with a band at a club and make a few bucks. I love playing music. I'm a musician. It's really important to me. But I don't do it for a living. It's too hard a life, and I kinda think that would suck all the fun out of it. But that doesn't make me not a musician. If I couldn't play the flute any more, I'd miss doing it terribly. It's not my job, it's part of who I am. "That's the same way you're a whore, see? Those women on tv are whores because they're desperate, they need money, they don't have any other choices. They don't love it the way you do. You love sex, you NEED it, you can't be without it, you're really good at it..." "Really?" Karen turned her head to look at me. Her blue eyes were wide. "You think I'm good at it?" With that interruption, I knew I had her. Once again, her hunger for adult approval overrode her confusion and fear. "Oh, gosh, yes, sweetie. When you sucked on my thingy that was one of the best orgasms I ever had. I LOVED it when you swallowed my squirt! And you had a great orgasm too, didn't you? Didn't you?" The fifth-grader colored slightly as she remembered kneeling naked in the damp grass, her mouth flooded with my hot jizm, and then writhing on her back, overwhelmed by pleasure with my tongue lapping at her clit and two fingers shoved into her bare, drooling cunt. But she nodded. "As good as you are at sex," I continued, "if you become a professional whore when you grow up, you'll be rich! You'll live in a huge apartment somewhere on top of a skyscraper! And the police won't dare to arrest you, because you'll be having sex with the police chief! Or the mayor, or the governor, or even the President!" I was getting a little carried away, and Karen giggled. "But you always say the President is an asshole." "There'll be a different President by then - and watch your mouth, young lady." "You should watch yours," she shot back. "You're the one that says 'asshole'." "I guess I should. But he IS an asshole." And we laughed together. With the plasticity of youth Karen's mood had turned around. "But whoring doesn't have to be your job. You can be a veterinarian, you can do anything you want when you grow up. But you'll always be a whore, too. You can't ignore it. Your babycunt won't let you." I leaned back, pulling Karen with me so we were again reclining together. I slid my hand up under her shirt, touching her bare nipples for the first time. She arched her back and made a little groan of pleasure as I tugged, gently now, at the rubbery flesh. "Do you understand now, Karen?" "Yesssss...." she sighed into my ear. It was hard for me to believe that just a few weeks ago Karen had been as innocent and ignorant of sex as any child her age, making her first tentative forays into pleasuring herself. If she hadn't accidentally seen me ejaculate onto her naked little sister, she probably still would be. I'd overcome her great reluctance to involve her in our sex play, only to make it a shared secret she'd be ashamed to tell. But I had discovered an unsuspected depth of sexuality in the preteen. Once I forced her to orgasm with my fingers and the help of Winnie the Pooh, she had become an insatiable, compulsive masturbator. Sex play with an adult man seemed not just normal but inevitable to her; and now I had convinced her that prostitution was her calling and her fate. "I don't want you to be sad. I want you to be my beautiful little whore. Please be my whore, Karen." There was something irresistibly perverse about using that word to and about the cute, innocent-looking eleven-year-old. Each time I said it my penis swelled at the thought of her accepting the word, accepting the idea into her most private self the way she accepted my spurting cock into her mouth, my fingers into her cunt and asshole. As I spoke I was kissing her cheek and her exposed neck. She tipped her head back as I raised her undershirt to bare her tiny breasts to the air. My tool was throbbing where her warm skin pressed against my pants. I rotated my finger slightly inside her cunt, feeling her skinny hips push up against it. "Oooooooh," the fifth-grader moaned at my touch, writhing back into my embrace. Then I again shoved the invading digit deep into her. "AaaaaAAGH!" she cried, her body stiffening with pleasure as she felt herself violated yet again. But now she was welcoming the violation instead of fighting it. Her legs drew up and open involuntarily, urging my finger deeper into her. I pumped my curled finger slowly in and out of the tightness and slick heat of Karen's pubescent channel, pressing my palm against her clitoris that swelled and heated beneath it. Cunt cream squished out around my finger and coated my hand and her entire vulva, soaking through her panties. Her legs twitched and danced around between mine, her delicate toes curling and pressing against the soles of her sandals. "Oh!...Ah!...AHH!...Ooooh!" She moaned and gasped in her high, girlish voice as I finger-fucked her more rapidly. I held her hot, near-naked body tightly and reveled in the feeling as she moaned and squirmed against me. Her head rolled from side to side where it lay against my shoulder. She reached her arms up and over our heads, pushing her swollen peaks up as she arched her back further. I gazed down at her heaving titties, noting the flush spreading across her upper chest and the knobs of her prominent hipbones moving as she twisted her pelvis from side to side against my wrist where it disappeared into her panties, now wet with her baby honey. Her vocalizations became more insistent as her arousal built rapidly to a peak. "AaaAH! AaaAH! AaaaAAIEE!" When I felt her cunt squeeze hard on my finger I mashed my palm against her swollen clitoris and was rewarded with the feeling of the eleven-year-old's body trembling violently against me. "Ah-HAH! Ah-HAH! Ah-HAH!" Her legs shot out with each gasping moan as she spasmed. "Ahhhhhhh..." Slowly Karen's body relaxed against my adult form. She caught her breath as I slid my finger easily out of her vagina. Her oversized clitoris stood out proud inside her now-soaking panties and I rubbed it gently between my thumb and forefinger, making her stretch against me and murmur with pleasure. With my other hand I went back to stroking her sweaty forehead. The flowery scent of her baby shampoo competed with the strong, slightly pungent smell of her cunt juice to fill the small room. My cock ached for release, pressed against her back, but I could wait. "That was nice, wasn't it?" I asked. Eyes closed, full red lips parted, Karen nodded. "Do you feel better now?" She nodded again. "I'm glad. Let's get downstairs now and get your homework done, OK?" I helped her sit up on the edge of the bed and moved to kneel before her. "Oh, your panties are all soaked. Let's get them off." I slid the wet fabric under her butt and down and off her slim legs, then used them to wipe away the creamy secretions that still oozed from her vagina and clung to her inner lips. Then as she watched, I took out my wallet and extracted three dollar bills and set them on the bed next to her. "That's for you, sweetie. You just earned it." The child was still dazed from the aftermath of her emotional upset and her orgasm. Her eyes were a little puffy and red from crying. She looked around the room vaguely. "...I have to change," she repeated for the third time. "No, you know what?" I said briskly. "I think you should just stay naked. You look so pretty, I love looking at your body, and if you're going to be a good whore you should get used to being naked as much as possible." As I spoke I grabbed her undershirt, already bunched up over her nipples, and lifted it up and over her head and off. Karen didn't resist; she automatically raised her arms as I removed her only remaining garment. "But...what about Renee...?" she asked uncertainly. "Oh, she'll understand. She knows you're a whore now." Karen blushed. Being naked in front of an adult, even being masturbated to orgasm no longer seemed to embarrass her but at the thought of others knowing of her secret urges, her sense of propriety reasserted itself. "I think we'll make that the rule while I'm here, that after school you'll change into your birthday suit." "Naked? All the time? I don't want..." "You have to," I cut her off. "If you're going to be a whore, you have to be comfortable wearing nothing but a smile. C'mon, it's not like you have to go play in the park or go to school that way. It's just practice, here at home." "When I go outside to play...?" "Well of course you'll get dressed then, silly! You don't want everyone to know you're a whore, do you?" She shook her head emphatically, her ponytail flying from side to side. "It's your private business," I continued. "For now it's just between you and me and Renee. You don't want your friends, or your teachers, or the people at church, or even Mommy and Daddy to know. They'd all say you were too little to be a whore. They wouldn't know how sexy and mature you are already." The naked child warmed to my praise, but I could tell she was still conflicted - about keeping secrets, about whether her secret was a source of pride or shame or both. That confusion worked to my advantage; in her uncertainty her natural tendency was to look to adults for guidance, but I was now the only adult she could talk to about this. As long as I could keep her emotionally isolated like that I expected no further problems. I took Karen's hand and we stood together. I made sure she saw me adjust my boner. "There's just one more thing. You remember how you hit your sister in my truck? When she teased you? You still have to be punished for that." Karen's eyes widened in fear at the mention of punishment. "Oh, don't worry, sweetie, it'll be OK. What you did was bad and you need to be punished, but it won't be hard. It won't hurt and it's something you need to learn anyway." I explained to Karen what I had in mind as she walked hand-in-hand downstairs with me, naked except for her sandals. In my other hand I still held her soaked panties, redolent with her preteen scent. I lifted them to my nose and inhaled deeply.