The other day (night actually), while downloading pictures from a.b.p.e.teen, he discovered one that had pictures of three girls in it. It was labeled "George Washington Cheerleading Squad" and the three girls were each lying back, completely naked, and spreading their pussies.

While the girls each had nice bodies, what really aroused him was the impression the pictures gave. They looked like girls who, on a dare, had allowed themselves to be photographed naked. The painfully obvious amateurishness of the poses added to the allure. Because, while each of these girls thought that one or 2 boys would see them naked, their picture was now transmitted worldwide.

Paul had a job that was not terribly great. Not terribly bad either. It paid well, and left him with quite a bit of free time since it barely required his efforts 40 hours a week. The day after viewing the pictures, and fantasizing about the girls in the pictures, Paul was driving into work.

Shortly after leaving his house, Paul passed George Washington High School. While Paul was realistic enough to know that there were probably thousands of high schools named George Washington, in his fantasies the girls in the picture went to the GW (as the students referred to it) near his house. For the next week the girls in the picture remained center stage in his dreams.

But time moves on and even the most intense fantasies wither with age. A month later the picture had been replaced by other pictures more recently downloaded, although it remained on Paul's hard drive. And because of the passage of time, Paul almost missed it.

Paul went to check out a video at his local store. A new girl was working there and as she handed Paul his change he suddenly realized, she was one of the girls in the picture. At least he was pretty sure she was. He was so startled he dropped his change. After mumbling an apology, he raced home from the store, pulled up the picture, and looked.

He was sure it was her. But the nagging doubt came back - what were the odds of this girl being here, where he lived. He printed the picture out and drove back to the video store. Yes, it was her. He had found his fantasy girl.

Needless to say, she came back to center stage in Paul's fantasies. Over the next several weeks he became obsessed with her. Every day he would rent a video, usually from her. In the course of those weeks they became casual acquaintances as they would exchange small talk. Her name was Anne and Paul wanted her more than anything.

As an older man (Paul was all of 24 but that's ancient to a 17 year old), Anne showed absolutely no sexual interest in Paul. However, he did learn that she had no serious boyfriends. He also learned one evening that she had very strict parents, when he overheard her tell a friend that she was grounded for 2 weeks for swearing.

After a month Paul was desperate. He had to have Anne but it was also clear that she would never find him interesting. He wasn't ugly or uncouth. He was just too old to be someone she would become interested in. So, in desperation, Paul hatched a plan. A plan that would hopefully gain him Anne's body, although not her love.

In the early afternoon the video store business is exceedingly slow. Housewives are home waiting for their husbands and the working men and women are finishing up at work. Many days you won't see a single customer between 2:30 and 3:30, at least at this store.

So on Tuesday, Paul left work early. And with a clean color print of the picture of Anne laying back naked, spreading her pussy, went to the video store. As he had hoped, Anne was the only person in the store. He walked up to her, smiled, and asked her to look at the picture. Anne took one look, gasped, and looked at him horror stricken. "Where did you get this?" she asked.

"That's not important" he replied. "The important thing is to insure that your father never sees this."

Anne felt a cold knot of fear grab her stomach - so bad that she half fell to the floor. If her father saw this, her life would be over. This was so far beyond the things she had been punished harshly for there is no telling what he would do. She had to insure that her father never saw it. Paul was getting scared looking at Anne.

It almost looked like she might have to go to the hospital. To reassure her he said, "Don't worry Anne, you're father will never see this." She looked up at Paul with such a look of relief and thankfulness that he almost backed off from what he was going to do. Almost.

"Anne, I want you to go out with me this Friday" Paul said. This was the crucial moment - would Anne be willing to date him to keep the picture hidden from her father. Anne looked up at Paul stunned.

She suddenly realized that he was offering her a trade, a date for silence. "Isn't there some other way?" Anne asked Paul, pleading with tears in her eyes.

'God, am I that awful?' though Paul - well fuck her in that case. "Sure Anne, I'll just mail a copy of the picture to your Dad and another to the school principal."

At that Anne did start crying sobbing, "Ooh god no, please no, please, please no."

"So I take it we have a date?"

Anne just mutely nodded her head up and down.

"Where should I pick you up?"

Oh no, it couldn't be her house - her Dad would forbid her going out with a 24 year old man. And she couldn't let her friends see. "How about the Rose Tavern next to the mall" Anne asked.

"I'll see you there Friday night at 7:00."

With that Paul turned around and walked out. He was ecstatic; he had his first date with Anne. And Friday was only three days away. Needless to say, the next three nights were filled with visions of Anne fucking and sucking him in every way imaginable.

Chapter 2 - Friday Night

Friday night and Paul was at their meeting place at 6:30. At 7:15 Anne had still not shown up. At 7:30 she finally crept in looking nervous and scared. Paul was pissed at this point, all worked up thinking she had shown him up.

And to compound matters, she was dressed in jeans and a high-necked blouse. Hell, she looked sexier some days working at the video store. Paul got up, grabbed her arm, and hustled her out of the tavern into the parking lot.

"Why the fuck are you late!?" Paul hissed.

"My Dad made me stay until we all finished dinner," Anne whimpered.

"And what's this fucking shit you have on?"

"It-its my clothes, its what I wear when I go out."

Paul was pissed, really pissed and lost control. He reached out and slapped Anne hard - once each way. He was lucky that no one saw him - very lucky. And suddenly realized that he might have just blown all of his chances with Anne. And that he could very well have been arrested if the slap was witnessed.

Anne was in shock. She had never been struck in her life and now, she had been hit so hard that she had almost been knocked down. But Anne did not have a lot of willpower. Her father had spent the last 17 years teaching Anne that she was to follow the rules laid down. Anne looked at Paul and was very afraid. But she didn't run because she didn't have the willpower to confront him.

Paul suddenly realized that Anne looked like a deer staring at a car's headlights. She was petrified and realized what was going to happen to her if she stayed. But she couldn't run. She just wasn't capable of it. Paul reached out a hand to caress her cheek. Anne flinched but didn't run. He caressed her cheek and Anne shivered in fear wondering if, in any second, the touch would turn into a slap.

Anne's mind was in a whirl. The touch on her cheek felt good. But she was expecting another slap at any second so her body was scared of it. Her mind didn't know how to handle equating a caress with the pain of a slap so it just gave up - and she shuddered with uncertainty. Paul reached around to the back of Anne's head and held her head so she was looking straight at him. He got a thrill out of the look of fear in her eyes. Paul's emotions were on a roller coaster ride too and found that look of fear the anchor to grab onto. He liked that look, and he was going to use it.

"When we're out on a date," he hissed, "I expect you to dress sexy." "No pants, no blouses that hide everything."

"Bu-bu-but I can't go out in a dress. My father won't allow it." "And I don't have any sexy dresses - I'm sorry but I don't."

Oh god he thought, this is just great. Well what the hell, he made more money than he spent. He had a reasonable amount in the bank. And he couldn't think of a better use. "Ok, ok, Anne," he said pulling her to him and holding her, "we'll take care of this."

Anne just let go and sobbed and shuddered in his arms. He was the one who had scared and hurt her. But he was the one now taking care of her and she needed someone to reassure her. So she clung to him for safety - safety from him.

"I'll go buy you some clothes."

This actually got Anne excited - new clothes without her mother vetoing her more daring choices. They turned to go into the mall. Paul with his arm around Anne.

At the first store they went to, Paul saw dresses he would like to see Anne in but she kept picking more conservative arrangements. Anne wanted to be more daring, but she didn't want to advertise slut. But if Paul was going to spend his money, he was going to get his money's worth.

Finally after telling her no for the fifth time, Paul pulled Anne aside and told her that he would pick the clothes. When he started to protest he slapped her very lightly on the cheek - it looked like a love pat to the sales girl. And with that pat, all the fight went out of Anne. Paul picked a number of outfits. All of them exceedingly tight. All with hem lines at most, an inch below Anne's ass. All with necklines that showed off Anne's breasts. One dress was transparent everywhere.

Paul had her wear one of the skintight dresses out of the store. And one outfit was basically slit up the front and back but the slit didn't show if the wearer wasn't moving - otherwise everything could be seen. He next took her to an underwear store.

"That crap you have on underneath has to go too," he told her. He didn't even give her a chance to pick in the underwear store. He picked out some garter belts and patterned stockings. He also picked out some bras and underwear. All of the bras showed her nipples and all of the underwear has a split crotch.

Anne looked up at the pile of underthings to try on, started to say something, and then looking at Paul's face, the fight left her. It was easier to give in. She went to the dressing room. While she was changing into one outfit, Paul walked in carrying a corset (he timed it to walk in when she was naked).

Anne tried to cover herself in front of him. Paul pulled out the picture of her and asked, "If you want to cover yourself up, I can show this to the salesgirl so she knows what you look like? Or you can end this Bullshit and start changing."

Anne turned and tried to hide as much as possible while trying on the panties and bra. However, Paul made her stand up and turn around showing him the outfit. He continued for each additional outfit, having Anne stand up, and directing her through different poses.

With each outfit the poses got more obscene. Until Paul had her leaning back, spreading her pussy lips. He then pulled out the picture and got her to exactly mimic her pose from the picture, commenting on how dirty she looked.

Anne felt totally beaten down and used. Paul was making her act like a complete slut. And yet she was a virgin. She had only posed for the picture because everyone made fun of her for being the one cheerleader to chicken out. And now she was showing Paul her pussy and pushing out her tits toward him. God she wanted to die.

Paul then had her change into a corset and it seemed too big - at least he said so. He then asked the sales girl to come in and check it. The sales girl looked at Anne a little strange and Anne just wanted to crawl up and die. She moved her hands to cover her tits and pussy.

"Put your hands down little girl," Paul said. "The corset seems too loose to me, do you think we should go one size smaller or 2?"

The sales girl put her fingers between the corset and Anne's skin and said, "Depends on how tight you want it." Anne felt like an object on display being handled by the sales girl.

"Ok, we'll take all of this and the smaller corset. But leave this garter belt and stockings and panties for her to wear." The sales girl walked out and Anne changed into the remaining underclothes, black mesh stockings, a black garter belt, and black crotchless panties.

Then as she pulled the dress on Anne realized that the dress wouldn't reach the stocking tops. She just couldn't go out like this. Meanwhile Paul had picked up all of her other clothes and walked out to pay. Anne had no choice. She walked out to Paul and told him that the stockings weren't covered.

"I know - I like you this way."

"But I can't go out like this."

Paul didn't argue, he just grabbed her arm and walked her out. Needless to say, almost everyone in the mall looked at Anne who looked like an absolute gorgeous piece of jailbait. But Anne didn't see that. She had her head down because she was too embarrassed to look up. They must all think I'm a filthy tramp she thought.

They reached Paul's car and drove to a nearby nightclub. With Anne's looks they weren't about to card her. So they went in to dance. Every slow dance Paul danced with Anne and told her how she looked so hot, so sexy, and so slutty.

And with each comment Anne felt worse and worse. She wasn't a slut, she couldn't be. And her mind became even more confused because Paul held her close and danced slow, which had always meant a boy cared for her before. And he held her like he cared for her. But he kept telling her she was a slut.

And during the fast dances they would sit at a table in the back. And Paul would talk to her as though she was his girlfriend. Nice, caring comments and questions. Anne felt totally pulled apart. The hormones had been hitting her for several years now but she hadn't yet really fallen in love with anyone.

She had discussed sex with her girlfriends but she didn't really understand it. She had nothing to use as a reference point. And here was this older man who was kind and caring one minute, and told her she was an absolute slut the next. And he was always holding her close as he called her a slut. The holding felt so good, but the words made her feel so low. And with her mind overloaded, Anne stopped thinking. She held Paul back while dancing.

She listened to his words. She kissed him back. And she shook with shame as he whispered in her ear. "You are such a little slut," he told her. "Look at you here in your tight dress showing off your body to everyone in the club. No wonder you spread your pussy for those pictures. A slut like you has to show her pussy to everyone. Can you imagine all of the men in here looking at your legs, looking at your garters, and dreaming about throwing you down on the ground and fucking you? You'd like that wouldn't you little slut, having all of these men standing around your naked body jacking off and cumming on you."

"N-n-no - please don't say that," she sobbed. Anne buried her face in Paul's shoulder and sobbed quietly. She hung on to him because she needed to hide and pressed against Paul she could at least not look at the others in the club. She felt so cheap. She really did look like a slut dressed the way she was. But she wasn't a slut she kept telling herself, she wasn't.

Finally it was approaching time for her curfew, She had to be home or she wouldn't be allowed out for two weeks. Paul was no dummy. When she mentioned the curfew, he took her out to the car. Once they were in the car he had her get out of her new clothes.

Before he let her dress in her old clothes, Paul insisted that Anne kiss him. Anne was scared. Here she was, naked in a car with a man who had told her she was a slut, and he wanted a kiss. She held back and put her arms up.

Paul reached over and pulled her to him. "Kiss me or you're going to have to do a lot more" he told her. She put her lips up and felt his tongue pushing at her mouth. She let her mouth open for his tongue. Jesus, she isn't using her tongue or putting her arms around me thought Paul.

He backed off and slapped her face again. While not as hard as the earlier one, it did hurt. All the emotions were too much, Anne started sobbing. Paul lifted her head up and made sharp taps on her cheek while telling her "When I kiss you, you use your fucking tongue and put your arms around me slut. Now do I need to slap you again?"

Anne slowly moved her arms around Paul and he mashed his lips down on hers. They kissed with tongues intertwining and arms around each other. Paul fully dressed and Anne naked and crying in shame. Paul broke the kiss and told Anne "you kiss like a slut but only a slut would be kissing on a first date naked in the parking lot."

Paul enjoyed the feeling of holding a naked Anne in his arms. A naked Anne who was crying her heart out. It felt so good to feel her body shudder in his arms. Her naked body, so firm and fresh felt so desirable under his hands and arms. While he couldn't go too far, he didn't want to scare her off, just feeling her breasts pushed against his shirt, and caressing her back, was more of a turn-on than any woman Paul had ever fucked.

Anne acted like she had been slapped again as Paul kissed her again. Paul loved it, the naked body in her arms, Anne's body shaking with fear and shame, and the salty taste of the tears running down her face. Finally Paul relented. "Get dressed," he said.

Paul then drove toward Anne's car, as she got dressed. He handed her one of the new outfits as she got out and told her to meet him at his house tomorrow afternoon for their next date. Anne looked at him in shock. She couldn't do this. Not anymore.

"By the way, I mailed a picture to your father today. Make sure you wait for the mailman tomorrow first and get the envelope out of the mail."

Anne's face went white with fear.

"Oh, and I do know his business address if I ever want to make sure he gets the picture." He drove off laughing as Anne hurried home, knowing she would spend the entire day waiting for the postman. And then she would go to Paul's house - she really didn't have any choice.

And Paul spent the night reliving the feeling of holding the naked scared delicious Anne in his arms.

Chapter 3 - Saturday Afternoon

Anne spent the entire morning sitting in her room, looking out the window at the mailbox. When the postman pulled up, she ran for the mailbox, ignoring the call from her mother. She grabbed the mail and there it was, a large envelope to her father from Paul. She folded it and stuffed it into her pants and took the rest of the mail in.

She took the rest of the mail in to her mother, and after some small talk, went up to her room and opened the letter. Inside was a picture as well as a letter from Paul explaining that the pictures had been Anne's idea, that she had forced the other girls to pose too, and afterward she had fucked half the football team.

Oh god, if her father had opened this. She would rather die than let that happen. Paul was treating her like dirt, but he hadn't even tried to fuck her. In fact, he hadn't even felt up her tits. It was an easy choice. So at 2:00 she drove off to meet Paul. She stopped in a deserted parking lot and changed from the clothes she had left the house in to the outfit Paul had left with her. The skirt seemed to have a hundred short petticoats that caused the top to flounce out at almost 90 degrees. Yet it was so short that again, you could see her stocking tops.

This time the stockings, panties, and skirt were all white. And the top was a lace ribbon that wrapped around her tits, leaving a little view of both the top and bottom of each breast. And finally there were little white socks and 5" stiletto heels to complete the combination.

Anne looked in the mirror and saw a stranger; half whore, half virgin, looking back at her. She couldn't go through with this - she wasn't a slut. But then she saw the envelope and realized she had no choice. Beaten down by Paul before she had even arrived at his house, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward his house.

At 2:30 the bell rang at Paul's house. He opened the door and there was Anne, looking at the floor, scared of what he was going to do. Anne walked in and just stood in the center of the floor. Paul smiled; this was going to be easy he thought.

"Well Anne, I asked you here because I want to take some pictures of you. That one just isn't enough for me. But this will be a little unusual for a slut like you, I want to take pictures of you with your clothes on."

At the mention of keeping her clothes on, a wave of relief swept over her. She actually felt thankful toward Paul for letting her stayed dressed. And he had called her a slut but she had posed naked for the picture at that party.

So for the next half hour Paul took photos of Anne in her different outfits. And each outfit and pose was more and more suggestive. Until finally Anne was posing in the see-through dress so you could see her tits and cunt through the fabric. And then, when changing out of the transparent dress, Paul reached out to Anne and had her stop, dressed in just stockings, panties, and half bra.

"I want some pictures of you like this," he told her. Anne just nodded, it didn't seem much different to her and she was now used to being told how to pose and what to wear. So she posed, first standing, then leaning back, and finally, as in the original picture, laying down and spreading her pussy.

Paul then had her pose in her different sets of underwear, each time placing her in more and more lewd positions. And all the time complimenting her on how she looked so beautiful, the most beautiful slut she had ever seen. Telling her how gorgeous her cunt and tits were. And Anne listened to it all getting even more confused.

Paul was complimenting her and saying everything nicely. And he obviously though she was beautiful. But he found her beautiful because she looked like a slut. Anne couldn't separate the two. She wanted to be beautiful and appreciated and if looking like a slut was how men appreciated her, then she would do it. So she continued to pose, enjoying Paul's' comments about her beauty and trying to ignore the ones about her sluttishness.

After the last set of pictures Paul sat down next to Anne with a vibrator in his hand. Anne had never seen one before although she had an idea of what it was used for. She suddenly panicked. "Please don't put that in me, I'm a virgin. Please! Please don't," she sobbed. "I'm saving myself for when I get married."

Paul quickly reassured her that nothing was going in her pussy. "I know what you want," he told her. "You're a slut and slut's want to cum. This will help you cum. I'll show you how."

Paul then proceeded to turn on the vibrator and use it on Anne's clit. Anne had touched herself a couple of times before but it had always been very fast, with major feelings of guilt. Now her clit was feeling things it had never felt before. And all the time Paul was whispering that this was all good. That she should feel this way.

Anne's first climax hit her before she understood what was happening. And a second rapidly followed the first. Paul kept working her clit with the vibrator as climax after climax cascaded through Anne's body. She had never felt anything like this before. All other thoughts were lost as Anne luxuriated in the afterglow of the most awesome orgasm she had ever felt. Nothing else mattered.

After about 5 minutes Paul figured she could pop again, so he started in on her clit again with the vibrator. Anne immediately started panting, staring at Paul as though he was a god. The fact that she could have another orgasm was beyond belief. All the repressed emotions in a young 17-year-old girl who had never really had an orgasm before bubbled to the surface.

Paul moved Anne's hand to the vibrator and had her use it on herself. He then got up and grabbed the camera and started taking pictures. Anne was totally oblivious to the pictures, totally focused on bringing herself to another orgasm. Anne again hit a string of orgasms and Paul captured her in the throes on film.

After another 15 minutes, Paul decided to bring her off one last time. He had Anne use the vibrator and after she was real worked up, he grabbed the smallest butt plug the local sex shop had, and already greased up, started pushing it up Anne's ass.

Anne jumped when she first felt the plug. Its ok Paul assured her, it's just a small plug to make you feel good down there. "Trust me," he said.

Anne realized it did feel sort-of good pressing lightly against her ass, and she didn't want to stop the vibrator. So she continued and Paul, ever so gently, pushed the plug in and out, just a little.

As Anne neared orgasm, Paul pushed the plug in and out further and further until, as Anne peaked, he pushed the plug all the way in. Once again Anne hit a string of cums, made even more intense from the plug in her ass.

As Anne laid there, all worn out, Paul got the most tremendous hard-on of his life. At 17, Anne's young body was still firm and fresh. And there is virtually nothing more erotic than the view of a woman, totally worn out from cumming repeatedly, lying back totally open.

"You know," Paul said, "I helped you cum. And now I need help to take care of my problem."

Anne looked up at him fearfully. Oh god no she thought. Please I can't do this. I won't have sex with him, not even if he shows the picture to my father. I just can't do it.

Paul saw the abject fear in Anne's eyes, which turned him on even more. God he would love to just jump on her and rape the shit out of her. But if he did that she would probably run and never return, pictures or no pictures.

"Relax slut, I'm not going to fuck you." Relief poured through Anne's body. "I just want you to jack me off. To a little slut like you a hand job should be nothing."

Anne tentatively reached up for Paul's crotch and started rubbing his cock through his pants.

"Not like that, pull it out. Don't you want to feel my cock in your hand?"

Anne pulled her hand back and Paul, desperate to cum, opened his pants and pulled his cock out.

He grabbed Anne's hand and wrapped her hand around his cock. "Start jerking it."

Anne started moving her hand up and down his cock, looking as though she was scared it might bite her. This was actually her first view of a cock and it scared her.

Paul stroked Anne's hair while talking to her. "You are such a pretty little slut. Do you like jacking my cock? I'm going to squirt my cum all over your face. Bet a little slut like you would like that. Playing with your clit and covered with cum - that must be your fondest dream."

Anne looked up at Paul shaking her head no, with a pleading look on her face, whispering, "No, no, no I'm not. Please god no."

"What's the matter slut, my cock isn't good enough for you?" Paul angrily jerked Anne over his lap; face down, ripe for spanking.

Before Anne realized what was happening Paul was spanking her butt as hard as he could with one hand while holding her down with the other. "Oh god no, please don't, please stop" Anne wailed.

"Fuck you slut. I made you cum god knows how many times and now you say you're too good to jack me off. Your nothing but a little piece of slut-meat." Paul continued to nail her butt. Anne's smooth stomach on Paul's legs and cock felt absolutely delicious. And her ass was so smooth and firm it just begged for more swats.

Anne finally gave up fighting and just sobbed in pain and humiliation as Paul whipped her. It hurt, it hurt so bad. And the thought of being paddled naked, with Paul's prick poking insistently into her stomach, mad her feel like a complete slut. This did not happen to nice girls. Nice girls did not play with themselves, especially in front of men. Paul was right, she was a slut.

Finally Paul could stand it no longer, he was about to burst. He pulled Anne off of him and dumped her on the floor. "Jack me off now bitch," he screamed.

Anne jumped to comply jacking his cock. Almost immediately it started to shoot, the first 2 shots landing on Anne's surprised face, before she pointed Paul's cock away.

"On your face slut," Paul yelled, turning his cock back toward Anne's face, covering it with jism. God she looked beautiful there, totally humiliated at his feet, with her face covered with his cum. "Rub it in," he said. Anne didn't understand. She looked up at Paul wanting to know what he meant.

Paul grabbed Anne's hands and pulled them up to her cheeks. "Rub the cum into your skin. All sluts rub the cum in cause they like it so much." Anne just looked at him - she couldn't do that. The stuff was yucky; she needed to wash it off.

"Do it NOW!!" he screamed standing up and towering over her, looking like he was about to hit her.

Anne started rubbing the cum into her face. By the time she was done there was an even coating all over from her forehead to her chin. Anne felt like a complete slut now, totally covered with cum.

"Now lick your hands clean."

Anne shuddered in disgust and then brought her hands up to her mouth and licked the cum off of them. She was a slut and sluts licked cum off of their hands. She started to cry as she realized what she looked like now, covered with cum, naked, kneeling in front of Paul, licking the cum off of her hands.

Paul stood Anne up and dressed her in the clothes she had worn from home, leaving the butt plug in. He then handed her the vibrator. "Every night and every morning I want you to use this" he told her. Anne looked at Paul and nodded. She was a slut and sluts used vibrators. Besides, it felt so good.

"And another thing, that butt plug stays in you except when you shit. I'll be checking and if it's out you will get one hell of a spanking."

Again Anne nodded. She had actually forgotten it was there although with his reminder, now she was acutely aware of it.

"I'd kiss you good-bye but you would taste of cum you little slut." And with that Paul pushed Anne out the door of his house.

Anne suddenly realized that she was standing out in public, holding a vibrator. If someone saw her they might get the wrong idea. Then she suddenly realized, no it would be the right idea. She was such a slut Paul wouldn't even kiss her good-bye. She cried so much on the way home she could barely see the road.

Chapter 4 - The Next 3 Weeks

Anne's father would only let her go out one night each weekend. And Sunday day was for church. So for the next several weeks Anne and Paul fell into a routine.

Each morning and each night Anne would use her vibrator to cum. She said to herself that it was only because Paul made her. But she knew better. Paul would never know if she didn't do it. The truth was that it felt good and she liked it. So she did it. But because her parents had told her sex was bad, and because Paul was "making her" masturbate, Anne's mind then decided she was a slut when she masturbated.

And every day Anne wore the butt plug. Well, every day except that first Monday when she had "forgotten" it. And Paul showed up at the video store that Monday. Before Anne could say anything he turned her around and felt her asshole. When he felt no butt plug he locked the store doors, dragged her to the back office, pulled down her pants, and used his belt to whip her ass.

Anne begged for forgiveness the entire time while Paul never said a word. Finally, when all of Anne's ass was bright red, Paul let her go and she tumbled to the floor. "We can do another hundred or we can have just 6 more, which will it be?" he asked her.

Anne looked up at him in bewilderment. "No more, please no more," she managed to plead between sobs.

"6 or 100, pick or I'll choose for you, pick NOW!" he shouted.

"6, oh god just 6 more please," she begged.

"Fine, then stand up and put your hands against the wall. Push your butt out and ask me to whip you. For 100 I'll hold you down. For 6 you have to hold yourself in place and beg for each one."

Oh god Anne thought, I can't do this. But she started getting up because no matter what she had to do, she just couldn't survive another 100 hits from the belt. She leaned against the wall with her hands supporting her. Paul adjusted her until she had "assumed the position." Hands up high on the wall, legs out and apart, butt arched out to meet the whip. "Oh and one more thing. If your hands come down, or your butt isn't sticking out for any one hit, we start over."

Anne closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Somehow she had to get through this. No matter how much it hurt, 6 was a lot less than 100. So motherfucking much less that she would freeze in place no matter what. She would hold on no mat--- Anne suddenly realized that Paul was talking to her. She had been concentrating so hard that she had blocked him out. The pain was so bad, god her butt was on fire. It had to be bleeding, it just had to. In fact, it felt like there was a fire down there, but that couldn't be.

But the pain was just so bad. Wait, what was Paul saying. Oh yes, she had to beg to be whipped. How could she beg for something that hurt so much. She was standing here, wasn't that enough.

Suddenly Paul reached out to her to pull her over his lap to give her 100 strokes. No, not that, please not that. "Please whip my ass, please do it, oh god please don't whip me 100 times, please whip my ass." She said frantically. She was begging him to whip her.

The real source of the begging was to avoid the 100 strokes but the words coming out of her mouth were begging Paul to whip her ass. Her ass that was already on fire. The first one hit and Anne screamed. She couldn't take this anymore. Yet she kept babbling, "Please whip my ass, please whip it, oh god please."

A part of her stepped outside her body and observed. There she was, arched out against the wall to meet the belt, begging for a whipping. What kind of slut was she? There were girls at school that put out for all of the guys, but even they would turn their noses up seeing her like this. Slut was too good for her, she was complete scum.

And the picture she made in her mind, combined with the pain from the belt, cause her body to heave with sobs as she cried her heart out. Finally the last stroke ended and Paul picked her up and held her. For the next half hour her sobs slowly subsided, while, the entire time, Paul just held her and told her how much he loved her.

And she grasped on to that love to pull her back up from the pit her mind had sunk into. The mind and body can only take so much and Anne's had been overloaded with pain and degradation. She needed a rope to pull her out and Paul's love and caring was that rope.

She started to hold on to him, and then to hold him so tightly that it hurt. She held on to Paul for dear life and sobbed her heart out. She was lower than a slut, and her ass was on fire. But it was ok because Paul loved her and would take care of her. Her mind pushed away the fact that Paul caused all of this because she needed a rescuer.

And Paul, he got to spend a half hour holding a naked Anne while she came to hold him tighter and tighter. Such a lovely young body and it was all his, to use any way he wanted, as long as he was careful. Anne made it through the rest of work that day by being very careful to not let her ass touch anything. And she was very careful from then on to have the butt plug in her ass every day.

On either Friday or Saturday night Paul would take Anne dancing. Each time she would wear slutty, revealing clothes and during the slow numbers Paul would whisper in her ear what a slut she was and how much everyone wanted to fuck her.

When they sat down Paul would always make her sit with her legs spread so that anyone looking under the table could see her pubic hair. As the night went on he would make her spread her legs wider and wider till, toward the end of the evening, her legs would be fully spread and anyone who looked knew she was flashing them on purpose. And much to Anne's dismay, many looked.

Each Saturday afternoon Anne would pose for Paul's camera. She would model the clothes and use the vibrator and butt plug. The second Saturday Paul brought out a video camera. At first Anne refused but when Paul showed Anne the new collection of pictures for her father, she relented. Paul had Anne face the camera while using the vibrator and tell the camera what a slut she was. How she liked playing with her clit and loved to get off.

He filmed her bringing herself to orgasm time after time. And at the end of each session, Anne would jack Paul off onto her face and rub the cum into her face. So Anne always left knowing that she was a complete and total slut. This was her life and the human mind can adapt to a lot, so Anne came over the next few weeks to accept this as her natural life.

Chapter 5 - A Haircut

About a month later Anne arrived at Paul's house for their regular Saturday afternoon session, which would be followed by the evening out. By this time Anne was actually looking forward to the sessions. Paul would drag her through the dirt verbally but in the course of that trip, she would cum ever harder than when she took care of things in her own bed at home. So she walked in and started to remove her leather skirt.

But Paul stopped her. "We're going out," he informed her.

"But why?" Anne whined. She was looking forward to the session and didn't want to give it up.

"Because your pussy is too hairy. I want to get the hair removed.. Sluts don't have hair on their pussy - its bald so that everyone can see their hot cunt."

"Go out, I don't understand. And I can't shave my pussy, girls just don't do that."

Paul sighed. "Do we have to go through this again? I can show you the videotape I've made for your father, pull you across my lap, and spank your ass till it's hotter than the sun. And then you'll go. You know it. I know it. Besides, you're a slut. We both know it. And sluts aren't supposed to have hair on their pussy."

Anne acted as though each sentence from Paul was he hitting her. Yes she would do it. Yes she was a slut. She didn't have any choice. Anne dropped her head as she realized her total lack of control over her body. "ok" she whispered and turned to go.

"Just a minute. Just because you realize you have no choice now doesn't excuse your telling me no before. You have to be punished don't you."

Anne looked up at Paul and nodded very slightly yes.

"Don't you!?" Paul said with a large threat in his voice.

"Yes," Anne said, fearful of Paul.

"Pull your skirt up and assume the position. Oh, and don't cry because we are going out immediately after the spanking and I'm not giving you time to fix your makeup."

Anne leaned against the wall and arched her back.

"Beg for it."

"Oh please Paul, whip my ass. I'm sorry. I said no, please forgive me, please do-- AAAGGGH, OH GOD IT HURTS SO MUCH, OWH, OWH!! DEAR GOD! DEAR GOD! I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME. I'm sorry I'm sorry please forgive me, oh please I'm sorry. OWH, OWH!!"

"Tell me you love me and beg for another. Do it NOW."

"Oh Paul, I'm sorry, I love you please don't, oh please don't, I love you, I love you, I love you, I'm sorry, pleas--- AAAGGGHHH, OH GOD IT HURTS SO MUCH! OH GOD PLEASE DON'T, PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE I BEG YOU, I LOVE YOU PAUL."

"You said please don't so that one doesn't count" he told her grinning. This was the first time she had said she loved him, and it was while he was whipping her. Definitely a strong foundation for their future.

"Beg for it or it'll go a lot worse for you, and tell me how much you love me - slut."

"Oh Paul I love you, I do love you. I know I'm just a slut but I love you. Please spank me, please, please span--- AAAAAGGGGGHHHH OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD, IT HURTS, IT HURTS SO BAD, ITHU---"

"Tell me that you love me slut."

"OH GOD I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU PAUL. IT HURTS SO MUCH I LOVE YOU. I love you I love you it hurts oh god it hurts."

"Beg slut!"

"Please whip my ass, please whip it. Whip your slut's ass, I love you so much and I want you to whip my ass, plea--- AAAGGGHH!! OH GOD I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. PLEASE! PLEASE OH GOD please don't - don't, oh god I love you."

And with that Anne turned and threw herself on Paul holding on to him and with sobs wracking her body kept repeating "I love you, I love you." Paul held her until the sobs receded. Then kissed her on the lips pulled her skirt down, and pulled her out the door to her car.

After driving a bit Paul pulled over and showed Anne 6 packages. They were all the same size and addressed to her father at his work address, her school's principal, the local newspaper, and the 3 local TV stations. He then explained what was in the packages, a collection of the best photos he had taken as well as 2 hours of the best scenes he had shot on videotape.

Anne was scared. This was much worse than the original photo. This would show the world that she was a full- fledged slut. And with the information going to the principal and news media, the word would get out all over town. She wouldn't be able to live if this happened. Oh god, what was Paul going to do to her.

Paul then laid it out. "We're going to a beauty salon to have your pubic hair removed. They will do what you tell them to do. If at any time you tell them to stop, they will stop and there is nothing I can do to make them continue. You get to decide what happens."

"However, if at any time you tell them no, or don't answer any question the way I tell you to, I will leave immediately and mail these packages. There is no second chance. If the women in this store think anything funny is going on they will probably refuse to continue and may even call the cops. So you can't disagree with me and then immediately change your mind to make it right - one screw-up and you become the front page story for this town."

With that Paul grabbed Anne by the chin and held her face about 2 inches from his. "Do you understand my little slut - one fuck-up and the whole town gets to see what a slut you are. Do you understand me my little whore?"

Anne, totally afraid now, both about the packages and afraid of Paul nodded her head up and down and said "yes." She didn't know which was worse, an angry Paul or the packages mailed out. But she didn't want either to happen.

"Another thing, this will hurt. Not anyway near as much as when I spank you but it will hurt. You can cry and ask me to hold you. But you must endure it until they are done. You got that?"

Anne just nodded. Whatever he wanted, she was not going to cross him right now. Not with those packages waiting to be mailed. "Finally, we need to remove your butt plug. The people working at this salon might not want to touch you if they realize what a slut you are. And only a real cunt walks into a salon and shows the world her butt plug.

Anne blushed and realized that she would have done just that. The butt plug had become so much a part of her life that she had forgotten it. God what a slut she was if she would show people that. She really was becoming quite a slut. Oh god help her.

Paul then pulled back into traffic and drove the rest of the way to the salon. They went in and Paul informed the receptionist that they had an appointment. They were shown to a private back room where the girl showed Anne a chair to sit in. Anne removed her underwear and skirt as instructed and laid back in the chair, spreading her legs. The stylist walked in and started getting the electrolysis equipment ready.

You understand that this will hurt she told Anne.

Anne nodded and said, "Yes, I do."

"Now, what exactly do you want taken off?"

Anne looked at Paul with a question on her face.

"All of it, isn't it dear?" Paul said to Anne.

"Yes, all of it," Anne said to the stylist.

The stylist looked at Anne a little strange but started to work. It hurt Anne every time the needle went in and every time it zapped. She held on to Paul's arm and gritted her teeth. But as time went on (it takes a long time to remove an entire bush) the pain moved into a dull constant in the background.

Anne started to think about how she looked. Lying there with her legs spread letting another woman work on her cunt. And when she was done, she would have no pussy hair - ever. Boy, she would really look like a slut then. In a way she couldn't hide. Anyone who saw her naked would knew, she was a slut.

The funny thing, thinking of how this was marking her as a slut, combined with the constant pinpricks, was actually arousing her. Not a mind-blowing orgasm kind of arousal but it was putting her mind on sex. And on sex that degraded her as a slut. And that was getting her worked up. And then she suddenly realized, the stylist working between her legs would see the juices leak out of her cunt.

Hell, she would smell it. And then she would realize that Anne was getting turned on by this. The thought was too awful to bear. But Anne found herself getting even more turned on by the thought of this woman knowing what a complete slut she was. About this time the stylist was moving up to remove the hairs around Anne's clit. This got Anne worked up even more. Paul noticed first because of Anne's clutching of his hand. My god he thought, the whore's getting off on this.

The stylist noticed next. This little tramp is actually enjoying this. I just hope she doesn't cum on my hand, oh yech.

But Anne was getting closer and closer, and suddenly, a zap of a hair at the base of her clit put her over the edge. Anne tried to hide it but couldn't. The stylist stopped and both Paul and the stylist stopped and watched Anne orgasm.

Anne then sank back in her chair totally mortified. "Sorry about that," Paul said. "I'm afraid she is a bit of a tramp. I'm really really sorry about this."

"I won't work on a woman like this," the stylist said, standing up and looking disgustedly at Anne.

"Please reconsider. She's almost done and if we have to go elsewhere then another stylist has to put up with the same reactions. She's done now so you should be able to complete the job before she gets out of control again."

Anne tried to sink deeper into the chair. Oh god, how could she have had an orgasm right in front of this stranger. What kind of woman was she. She really was a slut. She just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Yet her she was, lying back with her legs spread for this stranger. "We don't want to leave here with the job incomplete, do we?" Paul said to Anne.

Anne suddenly realized what Paul meant. They couldn't leave yet or he would mail the packages. Oh my god no. "Please finish it," she begged the stylist. "I'm really sorry. I won't do it again. Please forgive me." God she wanted to die, pleading with the woman to continue removing her hair, apologizing for cumming on her ministrations.

"Ok, I'll finish up the job, but no more enjoying it you little whore," the stylist said, contempt dripping from her voice. "I'm not gay and I'm not getting paid to get you off. So hold still and try to behave as a lady would - although god knows no lady ever had all of her pubic hair removed."

Anne felt like dirt. This woman was right. She was not a lady anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination. She was a whore, getting off on the hands of another woman. Oh god, how had she become so sick. The stylist was in a hurry now, jabbing faster and deeper to get the job done quicker. But it caused Anne's excitement to build up again. Anne grabbed Paul's arm and looked up at him with pleading eyes. Help me she thought, help me not enjoy this.

Paul looked down and realized that she was getting off again. The combination of the fear and the stylist's utter contempt were building her up even faster. He actually needed to do something if they were going to complete this job. Paul slapped Anne firmly.

The shock, both of the slap itself, and being slapped in front of this woman who considered Anne a dirty slut broke the building orgasm. Thank you Paul, thank you thank you thank you she thought, looking up at him. The stylist looked back at Anne's pussy, but hesitated.

"I'll pay you a $500.00 tip if you finish the job," Paul said. "And I'll do my best to get her to behave. Please finish this, I know she's a slut but I love her and she wants this."

Anne couldn't believe her ears, Paul was blaming it all on her. Of course, it was her fault that she was cumming. And if she was a slut, then she did have to get her pussy hair removed she guessed. Maybe it was all her fault. No it couldn't be. It was all Paul's fault.

But she glanced down at the stylist and saw the utter contempt in her eyes for her. The stylist knew she was a worthless tramp. The stylist thought Paul was a nice guy. Maybe the stylist was right. After all, the stylist was grossed out by Anne's cumming and wasn't that the reaction a normal person would have.

But here she was, getting all excited again. In fact, she wanted to cum. She didn't care if the stylist saw her cum. In fact, she wanted to be seen. She wanted the stylist to look at her with utter contempt, convinced she was a complete slut. Just the thought of the other woman's reaction had Anne building up.

Paul saw what was happening. She was getting off again. He slapped her face. But this time Anne expected it and it just furthered her debasement. He slapped her again and again. Anne kept looking up at him with a the blank look of someone building towards an intense cum. Each slap seemed to build the cum.

Anne couldn't stand it any longer. The slaps, the jabbing of the needle, the thought of how she looked, only a pig could get off on this. The thought of enjoying this was so sickening to her that it got her even more excited. She tried to hold it in, to cum because of this meant that she was turned on by being treated as a complete slut. She couldn't cum from that - it would mean she was nothing.

Anne held it in as long as she could, but finally, the dam burst. She started grunting and moved her hand down to rub her clit. The stylist and Paul jumped back. While Paul was secretly loving it, the stylist was totally disgusted with what she saw. The little whore had cum again. What a piece of trash.

"That's it," the stylist said. "The dirty little slut keeps getting off on my hand. This isn't worth $500.00. No way."

"Wait," said Paul. "I'll let you punish her for being such a whore."

"Punish her?"

"Yes, when you're done, you can spank her for being such a bad girl. Don't you want to make her pay for getting off on you?"

The woman paused at that. It would be nice to teach this little whore the error of her ways. And she would like to punish her for using her as a vibrator. "Yes, I'll do it."

Anne was watching this all with disbelief. Paul was going to let this woman spank her. Paul expected her to let this woman spank her. Anne was starting to realize how low she had sunk. A good girl would not be here, would not have her legs spread, and would not let anyone spank her. She was a good girl, she knew it deep down inside. The real Anne started to bubble to the surface.

The stylist looked at Anne and told her, "Lie back you little whore. And I've had enough of you getting off on my hand. You may want to fuck every man woman and child you meet but I don't. Try this once more and you'll find yourself getting the spanking you deserve immediately little girl."

How dare she talk to Anne like that. "I'm not a whore," Anne protested. "Don't call me a whore and sto--"

"Not a whore!?" the stylist laughed. "How many times have you gotten off on my hand jabbing you with this needle. Most women come in here and say it hurts to have their hair removed. You cum from a stranger doing it to you. You're a dirty little whore."

Each word was like a blow to Anne. Yes it was all true. The real Anne buried itself back in her subconscious somewhere and Anne the slut reasserted itself. Anne looked up at Paul with tears in her eyes. She was a slut wasn't she. Oh god, she was so low. At least Paul wanted her. "Paul, I love you," she said, desperate to know someone wanted a slut like her.

Paul leaned over, brushed away her tears, and said, "I love you too little Anne. Don't you worry, I'll take care of you."

The rest of the removal passed fine. The stylist worked, Anne quietly cried, and Paul stroked her hair. And Anne kept thinking, I'm a slut but Paul still loves me.

Finally, it was completed and the stylist handed Anne a mirror to inspect the work. Anne looked down and realized that it was as bald as the day she was born. And it would stay that way for the rest of her life. She was marked as a slut forevermore.

The stylist then pulled Anne, still naked from the waist down, over to a chair, sat in the chair, and pulled Anne over her lap. "A bad girl like you needs to be punished don't you."

"Yes," Anne whispered.

And the stylist then proceeded to use a hair brush to paddle both of Anne's ass cheeks bright red. The whole time she kept up a monologue - "You're a dirty little slut. You probably want to show that bald pussy to all the boys at school don't you. I bet you can't wait to have everyone's cock sliding into that little pussy. I bet you get yourself off whenever you can don't you. Do you play with yourself every night and morning?" All the time raining down the blows.

Anne quietly sobbed realizing that she deserved this punishment. Yes it was true, she was a slut. When she heard the question about playing with herself every morning and night she sobbed out "Yes, yes I play with my pussy whenever I can, I'm a slut, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

And at that the stylist pushed Anne off of her lap. "You little whore, you were probably getting off on my spanking you. You need to be punished, not rewarded for being such a whore. Get away from me. I'm going to go wash my hands to remove your smell from me you dirty slut."

Anne sat on the floor feeling totally worthless. Paul leaned down in front of her and told her to play with herself. Anne looked at him in shock - how could he say such a thing after what had just happened. The stylist had told her that she was a dirty slut. She didn't want to be a slut. Anne started to pull herself together.

Paul reached down, took one of Anne's hands, and used it to rub her clit. Anne resisted for about half a minute, but then it started to work. After another minute with Paul's assistance, Anne took over on her own, rubbing her clit.

Paul stayed kneeling down facing her and telling her what a slut she was to be getting off just after the stylist had spanked her for being such a slut. Even a slut had some self respect. Anne was just a mindless nympho, rubbing her clit trying to get off, not caring what anyone thought of her.

No that wasn't true, the utter contempt of the stylist helped her get off. Paul's whispers that she was a total slut was getting her off. the fact that someone with the slightest shred of self-respect would at least go somewhere more private first built her up.

Anne played with her clit wallowing in her debasement. Her whole world was her clit. She rubbed it furiously listening to Paul. She was a complete slut. A complete slut could get off anywhere because nothing else mattered.

Over the past few weeks Anne's young body had received a crash course in how to satisfy the sexual urges her hormones had awakened in her. But there had been no course in love or respect or willpower. She had been taught how to satisfy her strongest urges immediately and fully. And like a powerful drug, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to break her of the habit.

And it was the feeling of utter worthlessness that allowed Anne to give up the civilized restraints each of us normally uses to moderate our more primal impulses. The more slutty and worthless Anne felt, the more she felt free to satisfy her sexual urges.

And more than that, there was something in Anne's makeup, probably from years of being raised as a child who should always obey, that reveled in having her nose rubbed in the dirt. The more degraded she felt, the more she got off.

So Anne crouched there, dripping pussy juice onto the floor, rubbing her clit and cascading from orgasm to orgasm. Rubbing her forever bald slit, and staring at Paul who was watching her get herself off. Until finally she collapsed in the puddle of her pussy juices, not even realizing it she was so wiped out. Staring blankly into space as Paul lifted her up and put her skirt back on her. They then walked out, past the stares and whispers of the stylists to Paul's car, and drove off.

Chapter 6 - That Evening

Paul let Anne sleep the rest of the afternoon. The session at the hair salon had wiped her out. While Anne slept soundly, Paul would keep moving a vibrator on her clit. He was pretty sure that her dreams were interesting. Anne woke up from a long series of erotic dreams. She didn't remember much of the details but it felt like she had been cumming non-stop for the last several hours. She got up and went looking for Paul, not bothering to get dressed first.

Paul had a vision of loveliness walk in on him. Anne's 17 year old body was almost perfect. Still thin and firm all over that no one seems to retain past the age of 19 or 20. Add to this how beautiful a completely bald pussy is. Not a pussy that was recently shaved or with a slight stubble, a pussy with absolutely no hair on it.

And there she was, standing there and looking at Paul. Not covering anything up or acting at all shy. Anne was his. Paul got up, walked over to Anne, and hugger her gorgeous naked body to his, loving the feel of her naked body.

"I love you," he said and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips.

"I love you," she replied hugging and kissing him back.

"Lets get dressed for tonight," he told her. He handed Anne a waist cincher that was flesh colored. One of the few negatives about Anne's body was that, not having filled out like an adult, her body wasn't as curvy as he would like. While he couldn't, and didn't want to do anything to make her hips bigger, he could make her waist smaller.

He put the cincher around her waist and started pulling in the laces. Each time he had Anne exhale he would pull the laces a little tighter. Finally he had it as tight as possible. Anne had to take shallow breaths and couldn't bend over. But her waist had been reduced by 6 inches giving her a phenomenal hourglass figure.

The cincher was designed to blend in with her skin by snapping flaps over the laces. Paul then handed Anne her dress. It was a gauzy material that was almost the exact same color as Anne's skin. Anne pulled it on and suddenly realized you could see right through the dress. Anne's ass and pussy were not terribly obvious, although if you knew to look, you could see both. But her tits, because of the different color of the nipples, were strikingly obvious. Paul loved it, there she was in all of her glory, clothed yet still naked.

The dress was skintight. Even at her waist which had been pulled in 6 inches. The effect was electrifying since each breast had its own little pocket of fabric it pushed out from her chest, with the fabric following every curve of her breast. And her incredibly thin waist was so obvious with the dress in tight around her waist. And finally, with the fabric tight over her ass and across her mound, it was relatively easy to discern her ass and cunt if you looked.

To top it off, he handed her black mesh stockings that held themselves up and 6" black stiletto heels. The black stockings would show under the dress, making it more obvious that she had no other underclothes on. Anne freaked. She couldn't go out in public like this. She might as well go naked. It was worse than naked. She turned to Paul with a pleading look on her face. "Please Paul, please don't make me do this."

Paul smiled. She wasn't saying no anymore, she was asking him to not do it. He owned her now. Paul handed her black lace gloves, to match the stockings, had her put them on, and turned to go out of the house. Anne looked at Paul in despair. She couldn't do this. This was showing everyone what a slut she had become. But Paul was standing there and if she didn't go, he would make her. He would spank her and send pictures to her father. And he might stop loving her.

A shudder ripped through Anne's body and she started to put on the gloves. As she was putting them on she discovered that all the fingers had been sewn together as well as the tip of the thumb to the tip of the fingers. She could give Paul a hand job wearing the gloves, but not much else. In fact, Paul had to help her finish putting the gloves on, and once on, she would need his assistance to remove them.

Paul then turned to go to his car and Anne followed. She was his slut. She hated it but she was his slut. Across the street one of Paul's neighbors was getting out of his car. The man stopped and stared at Anne. Anne wanted to melt into the sidewalk. Instead Paul took Anne over to meet him. "Hi Fred, this is Anne."

Fred just stared at Anne's nipples.

"Do you like her body?" Paul asked. "You can see her pussy too if you look closely. She's such a slut she had all the hair removed. Shake hands with Fred slut, there's no reason to be impolite."

Anne wanted to sink even further into the ground. She couldn't shake hands with the gloves on. And Fred was now staring at her pussy. And she was standing here letting him look at her body. Paul moved her arm up and Fred automatically put his hand out to shake. He seemed disconcerted at her hands shaped in an O but then went back to looking at her pussy. "Well, we have to go now. See you later." Paul and Anne walked off with Fred now staring at Anne's ass the whole way.

Anne was in a state of shock. She was used to boys looking at her with a sexual interest. But nothing with the intensity of Fred's stare. Fred's look was not tempered by anything. He wanted to push her down and fuck her till he came. A virgin who had never felt a cock in her pussy and Fred wanted to rape her.

When they got out of Paul's car at the dance club, he came over to her side and put little bracelets on Anne's wrists. Before she could appreciate them though, he pulled Anne's arms behind her and connected the bracelets. To the casual observer Anne was merely holding her hands behind her back. However, Anne was now unable to defend herself in any way. She was truly at Paul's mercy. And to make it worse, having her hands behind her back pushed her breasts out.

Anne looked so small and helpless standing there that Paul couldn't help himself, he pulled her to him and held her while kissing her. He then reached down and started playing with her clit right through the fabric of the dress.

Anne started to get hot, and then realized that there were other couples near them walking through the parking lot on their way to the club. He couldn't do this, not in front of all these people. She buried her face in Paul's neck hoping he would stop. Please don't do this in front of others she prayed.

Paul stepped back and Anne's hopes rose. But he kept playing with her clit, standing a foot back fro her. Anne stepped toward Paul but he reached out and held her back. He then raised her head by the chin so Anne was looking straight at Paul.

Paul then started to really go at her clit. Anne started to loose it. People were walking buy and looking at her. No one was having any trouble figuring out what was going on. A little way off, one group of men had stopped and was watching. Others would slow down while staring.

Across the distance she could hear the comments "whore", "slut", "cunt." She didn't want this. She wasn't this kind of girl. Yet Paul would start in on her and she would start panting in heat. She would change into a sex hungry slut. Let them look. Let them see the slut cum. She didn't care, she just wanted to cum. Closer, closer, almost there. She stared at Paul prepared to cum - AND HE STOPPED.

"NO, NO, DON'T STOP!!" she shouted. Everyone looked over to see what was bothering the dirty little slut. "Please Paul, please keep going," she whispered. "Please Paul, I love you, I'll do anything, but please don't stop."

"Don't stop what?" he asked with a smile.

"What you're doing, please don't stop."

"What am I doing?"

"Getting me off."

"Not like that, tell me to get my slut off by playing with her clit."

"I can't say that."

"Fine, lets go in."

Anne swallowed and whispered even quieter, "Please get your slut off by rubbing her clit."

"What, I can't hear you."

"Please get your slut off by rubbing her clit," she said a little louder.

Paul brushed her clit and asked again, "What? I can't hear you."

"PLEASE GET YOUR SLUT OFF BY RUBBING HER CLIT," she said loud enough to be heard 20 cars away.

Paul started rubbing her clit again. "You better keep telling me what you want, or I'll have to stop."

"Oh yes, rub my clit, rub your slut's clit, make me cum. I need to cum so bad. Oh please don't stop. Oh yes, here it comes, here it comes, I'm going to cum. AAAAGGGHH, oh no, no, no. Don't stop, oh god don't stop, it keeps cumming, it keeps cumming, oh god yes, yes, get your little slut off, oh yes get me off."

Paul moved up to Anne's side as she kept climaxing, rubbing her clit with one hand and pulling on her hair with the other to raise her head up. "Open your eyes slut and look at your audience. They all want to see the slut cumming in the parking lot."

Anne gasped as she saw 30, no 40 people staring at her with lust in their eyes. What kind of cheap slut would get off in front of so many people. None of them, that's for sure. They all knew she was the biggest slut at the club tonight. And they were all watching her cum.

"Oh no, oh god no" Anne moaned as she saw everyone looking at her. She tried to bring her arms up to cover herself but couldn't because of the bracelets. She tried to crouch down but Paul's grip on her hair stopped that.

And Paul's other hand, Paul's other hand kept working on her clit. And the climaxes kept coming, even more intense now that she was aware of her audience. How could she cum with people watching her. She was sick, sick and perverted. She was getting off on the audience and that was just sick.

And Paul whispered in her ear, "Do you want me to stop?"

Of course she wanted him to stop. She didn't want to be this disgusting girl climaxing in front of this growing crowd. But the words wouldn't come out of her mouth. She kept cumming and cumming in a never-ending roll of climaxes.

"I'm going to stop," Paul said loud enough for the crowd to hear. "I'm going to stop playing with you my little slut."

"NO! NO DON'T STOP! OH PLEASE DON'T STOP!!" she begged loudly. The words were out of her mouth before she even thought about it. She didn't want to stop cumming. Each cum was more powerful than the one before and she didn't want it to stop.

Let them all watch her. Let everyone know how sick and disgusting and perverted she was. As long as she could keep cumming she didn't care. And the thought of everyone watching her turned her on even more.

And then she started to hear them.

"What a hot slut."

"dirty tramp"

"pig"

"perverted cunt"

"whore"

"fuck-meat"

And then Paul stopped.

"OH NO! NO! NO PLEASE DON'T STOP! JUST ONE MORE CUM, PLEASE JUST ONE MORE CUM!" she begged, sobbing with need.

"You stopped telling me my slut needed her clit rubbed."

"Oh please, your slut needs her pussy rubbed," she pleaded.

"Too late, you stopped."

"Oh please, please, please. I'll do anything, anything." Anne had totally forgotten about her audience and was begging Paul.

"I don't know, lets ask your fans." he said turning her to once again face the audience. "You have to get them to ask me to rub you. Ask them."

Anne paled. She couldn't do that. She couldn't sink that low. She just couldn't. But that next cum was waiting right there on the edge, with another right behind it. And these people would watch the dirty little whore cum more - seeing how badly she needed it.

"Please, she said, looking at the ground, "Please, please."

"Please what slut?" said a voice in the crowd.

Anne looked up with both shame and hope in her eyes. "Please, please tell him..." she begged looking for the source of the voice.

"Tell him what?" came another voice.

Oh god Anne thought, as another cum shot through her, just from the thought of having to ask a stranger to cum. God, she was such a disgusting little fuck-wad. "Please tell him to get me off."

Some of the crowd started to tell Paul when a loud voice said, "I don't think so whore. I don't think you've asked us properly. I say no until we here the slut ask correctly." Other voices then picked up the same refrain "Not yet, ask us nicer."

"Please ask Paul to get his little slut off. Please ask him to play with my clit. I'm a dirty little whore and I need to have my clit rubbed. Oh please, please ask him to get me off, I need to cum, I need it. I need it."

Once again the voices started to tell Paul to get her off, and he was actually brushing her clit, when the same loud voice said, "No way, I don't think so. Maybe later but she just doesn't sound sincere to me. Maybe later in the club."

No she thought, no they can't mean it. "Please, please I have to get off. Paul's dirty little slut needs to get off. I'll do anything to get off. I have to get off, oh please ask him to get me off. I'm a dirty little pig cunt whore slut who needs to get off. Oh please."

But the crowd was turning away. A few were staying but when they saw the others leaving, everyone started to move. No one wanted to be the one person left staring at the dirty little slut.

"PLEASE! PLEASE, OH GOD DON'T LEAVE, I NEED IT I NEE----"

Paul slapped her hard, once twice, three times until she shut up. Anne looked like she had just run a marathon. Her hair and body were totally soaked in her sweat. Her eyes looked like the eyes of a wild animal. She was shaking with need.

Paul pulled her to him and held her for a minute as her shaking died down a little. The he backed off and asked her "we can leave right now if you want. I'll take you to your car and you can drive straight home. Or we can go in the club. But if we go in you're going to have to dance with others and they will touch you. No one will fuck or hurt you but they will touch you."

Anne looked up at him in desperation. She couldn't go home now. Her little vibrator in the privacy of her room just didn't come close to the need she had right now. But letting others touch her. She just couldn't do that. She just couldn't. She might be Paul's sex toy but she wasn't really a slut. No other man had touched her and Paul hadn't actually fucked her. For all she had been through, most of her prudish upbringing hadn't been violated.

"Wha-what kind of touching?"

"None of your business. If you don't want it, we'll go home," and Paul turned toward the car.

"NO!!" she shouted. Again her instincts had betrayed her, or maybe shown the true Anne. "No, I don't want to leave."

Paul put his jacket on the parking lot and pushed Anne down so she was kneeling on it looking up at him. Paul reached down and put his thumb in her mouth. Anne automatically started to suck, it was a reassuring thing in what was presently a very uncertain world.

"One last thing. I'm really horny right now. I can't wait all night before you get me off. I got you off so I think its only fair you get me off."

Anne pulled at her arms and then asked Paul to undo her bracelets. "Oh no," he said, "Those stay on for now. You're going to have to do it with your mouth."

Anne blanched. Finally here it was, the moment she had been dreading up to now. Paul was asking for sex. Her mind had never actually addressed the fact that her virginity might truly be at stake. Through all of this she assumed, since she was a "good girl" and a virgin, that sex would somehow be magically avoided.

Paul looked down at Anne as she looked up at him. He used his hands to lightly stroke her face. "Beautiful, beautiful Anne, you are going to suck my cock. I'm going to stick it in your mouth and down your throat. And you are going to love it because you are such a slut - aren't you?" Anne looked up mesmerized by Paul's face.

So many conflicting emotions running through her mind. She was not really a slut. She was just a 17 year old kid playing a grown-up game. But sex, that was a part for grown-ups. At the same time, she was hot. She had cum she didn't know how many times and had even more cums waiting to explode. Her body was telling her to do anything, just so she could cum again.

Paul reached out and used one hand under her jaw to hold her mouth open. He then used the other to move his thumb in and out of her mouth. Anne started sucking again. It was something safe to focus on. And it felt good. But still, she couldn't, she just couldn't do it.

Then she heard Paul's soft voice telling her that he loved her, that she was his little slut, and that she had to suck his cock. Because a slut sucked her boyfriends cock. There was no two ways around it and she had to do it - she had to.

Suddenly Paul pulled his thumb out of her mouth and there was his prick. She had seen it before when jacking him off but it had never looked this menacing before. Paul put one hand on the back of her head forcing her head toward his prick while the other held her jaw open. She didn't resist. Paul moved her and then his prick was in her mouth. Paul held it there, barely in her mouth, and told her to suck it.

He was telling her that that's what a slut did, when a prick was in her mouth she sucked it. Paul's' voice mesmerized her, telling her that he loved his sweet little whore and that she had to suck his cock. The voice kept repeating in her head. Pretty soon it seemed like a message, not from Paul, but from within her.

Up to now, Paul had actually been bringing out parts of Anne that had always existed. Parts that normally would be counterbalanced but parts of her nonetheless. Now for the first time he took her beyond what was really Anne. As Anne started to suck, a part of her died.

It was not a blaring event. But Anne felt part of herself permanently betrayed. She had crossed a line. And she started to cry. Not major sobbing, but the tears started flowing out of her eyes, down her cheeks, and dripping onto Paul's jacket.

She continued to suck Paul's cock, just as she had his thumb. Paul held her head and fucked her mouth. And she heard his voice quietly repeating, "That's a good little slut. Good little sluts suck their master's cock. this is what you are supposed to be doing." It kept repeating again and again as she sucked, in rhythm with the cock going in and out of her mouth. And again, after awhile, it seemed like the message was actually coming from within her.

Paul looked down at Anne. She looked so beautiful with her hands behind her back, her chest stuck out with the tits clearly visible, and her mouth quietly sucking on his cock. And most beautiful of all, the constant trail of tears dripping down her face. Tears so constant that he had obviously broken some strong limit that used to be within her.

Cumming was almost anti-climatic. Anne didn't even seem to realize Paul had cum, continuing to mechanically suck until he pulled his cock out. Paul knelt down next to her and held her. And Anne sobbed and sobbed into Paul's shoulder over what she had lost. She wanted it back so bad but it was gone forever.

Finally, Paul stood Anne up to take her into the club. Anne was still crying but he didn't want to spend the rest of the night in the parking lot. As the entered, the bouncer demanded an ID for Anne. Needless to say, she didn't have one. Paul the offered to let the bouncer play with her tits if he let them in.

Suddenly Anne woke from her fog. What had Paul just said. Suddenly there were a pair of hands mashing her tits. She tried to move away but Paul was holding her. Oh god, this couldn't be happening. She didn't know this person. She wasn't some slut anyone could handle. Oh please stop her eyes begged Paul.

Paul finally pulled her away to the rude "nice honkers" from the bouncer. She hung her head in shame. She was now not just Paul's slut, but the slut of anyone he gave her to. The next several hours were pure hell for Anne, even though she spent most of it aroused or cumming.

Paul had her dance with a different man every dance. And they all took advantage of her hands locked behind her back to play with her tits and cunt. Some just reached in and got her off. Those weren't so bad. But most of them made her beg for it.

She had to tell them exactly what she wanted, what a whore she was. And she had to listen to them telling her that she was the dirtiest most perverted little slut they had ever met. And she came and came and came. Each dance was one long climax. And the whole time she knew that she was nothing but a piece of fuck meat to all of her partners. Most of them actually came in their pants while dancing with her.

And each dance others looked at her as she was brought off. No one made any big secret about it. The slow songs were the worst because everyone on the dance floor could hear her begging to be jerked off, and then cumming. After an hour of this, Paul undid her bracelets so her hands could move in front. But he then had her jack off her dance partner. There she would be, stroking someone's cock on the dance floor while everyone watched. And with her busy the men didn't bother to get her off, so she didn't have her orgasms to hide behind.

And each of them, as they came, would hold her close. Her hands, and the front of her dress became totally covered with jism. She would walk off the dance floor and each time people would see the growing patch of whit semen all over the front of her dress. That had to be the worst, walking off the floor with everyone looking at the cum covered slut.

Toward the end of the evening men were starting to push for a turn at her. It became clear that not everyone would get a chance. Paul started sending out two men at once, one for each hand. Then, as soon as one had cum, he would leave and another would go out to her on the dance floor. It stopped those terrible walks off with everyone looking at her. But instead, it was now so obvious that everyone else had stopped dancing and stood in a circle watching her.

Pretty soon two wasn't enough and there were 2 more, one sliding his prick against the front of her dress and one against the back. Pretty soon cum had coated all sides of her dress. Then someone tried pulling up the back of her dress. Paul stopped him and pushed everyone back - thank god. She had almost lost her virginity.

But it was still a dangerous situation. There were about 40 or 50 men who all had monster hard-ons surrounding her. Paul forced her down to her knees and had everyone gather around her. There were too many for Anne to get them off, so he told her to play with herself to turn them on. She looked at him, she couldn't do that. It wasn't a question of would she, she just psychologically couldn't. Then Paul got down next to her and whispered "if you aren't very careful, you'll get raped by 40 guys and I can't stop it. Play with your pussy and tits - and stay kneeling. If you lay down you'll be raped."

Anne realized she had to and brought a hand to her pussy and started rubbing. She started talking dirty to all of the men, "Please cum all over my slutty little face, please jack off over the little whore. I'm a little slut and I need to feel your cum all over my face. Please give me your cum." And as Anne talked she pulled up the front of her cum-encrusted dress and started rubbing her clit as fast as she could. The other hand went to squeeze her boob.

That was all it took. Pricks started exploding. There were so many people a lot missed her. But a lot got on her too. I had never seen someone drowned in cum before. But Anne was. She had cum covering every part of her body. What a delicious little piece of fuck meat. And as the cum started landing the most amazing thing happened. Anne started cumming.

Cum after cum wracked her young body. The utter degradation of having 40 strange cocks pour their semen on her had her hitting a level of climax she had never before achieved. The whole way home in the car Anne was playing with her clit and scooping cum with the other hand into her mouth. She never stopped having an orgasm the entire way home.

Chapter 7 - The Next Few Weeks

Poor Anne, when she dropped by the next week, Paul showed her the tape a friend of mine had made of the entire evening. What that tape showed was not a young girl, but a insatiable cum receptacle. With some very minor editing it showed a girl who got off on the filthiest degradation. Who could never get enough cum. And who came and came repeatedly.

After showing it, in front of her Paul put the tape in a box addressed to her dad. Anne turned white as a ghost. She suddenly realized that the old tape was tame stuff compared to this. For this her dad might very well kill her. She turned to me with the look of an animal that knows it is about to die. "Don't worry sweet slut," Paul told her. "This will remain here as long as you behave yourself." And then Paul slapped Anne as hard as he could. Anne's hands flew to her cheek as the tears started and she backed away from Paul.

"Come back here NOW Anne. In front of me with your hands down or by god, I'll drive the tape over to your father now."

Anne stepped back braced for another slap. Paul reached up but didn't slap. Instead he gently pushed her shoulders down, and moved her head so it was back normally, not all tensed up. Then he slapped her again on the other cheek, as hard as he could.

Anne dropped to the floor crying, "Why Paul, what do you want me to do, just tell me?" she begged.

"Get back up NOW!" he said pulling her up. Paul's hands went to move her around again but Anne knew what would follow and stayed tensed up. "If you're not going to relax tell me now and I'll just take the tape and go."

"Please tell me what I did wrong. Oh god, please don't hit me. I'll do anything, just tell me what you want me to do," Anne sobbed with tears running down her cheeks.

"I want you to relax and hold still slut. Now do it before I loose my patience."

Anne did the best she could, holding still with her eyes wild with fright. Paul faked several slaps causing Anne to jerk and cry out. Finally, after the fakes slowed her down, Paul let out another slap knocking her down again.

"Please, please. Oh my god please tell me what I did!" begged Anne. "I'll suck your cock, I'll fuck you, I'll do anything you want."

Paul pulled her up as she kept babbling with fear. The look in her eyes had him hard as a rock. It was pure victim. She didn't want to get hit but she wouldn't defend herself. She would beg and plead and abase herself. But she would stand there and take the slap. "There is no reason," he said. One more should really get the message through.

Paul this time positioned her head perfectly for the slap. He lined his hand up, making real clear it was coming. Anne closed her eyes in anticipation so Paul told her to open them. Anne stared at Paul's hand in abject fear as he swung and nailed her again.

But during the entire swing, Anne never moved out of the way. She didn't know why Paul was hurting her. She knew the slap was coming and she stood there and took it. Because Paul had the right to do anything to her. With those slaps, those unexplained slaps, Paul tore away Anne's belief that she could tell Paul no. She was his.

Paul then pushed her down on her knees and had her suck him off. However, it wasn't gentle this time. Each time he pushed a little further into her mouth ignoring her protestations. When Anne put up a hand to hold stop his prick from going in as far Paul pulled out, slapped Anne twice, and pumped back in, without saying a word. Anne kept her hands down.

Pretty soon he was into her throat and then he was all the way banging her nose into his crotch. Her young throat felt so good around his cock with her gagging massaging his cock. Paul started holding his cock in for 20 seconds and then letting it our for Anne to take a breath. Anne couldn't breathe.

The last time out she hadn't gotten a good breath and now Paul was down her throat again. She had to breathe, she reached up and pushed at Paul, trying to get him to back out. Paul pulled out and looked at her. She knew it was coming and held her face up for it. But he didn't slap her.

She opened up her eyes to see him looking at her. He turned around and then he was holding something in his hands. Paul flicked one of her tits with his finger. It hurt but it made her nipple stick out. Then suddenly her tit was in agony. She reached for her tit but Paul held her arms. She looked down and saw an alligator clip on her tit squeezing it.

Paul then handed her the second clip and nodded toward her other nipple. Oh god no she thought. I can't stand to have that on there. I can't put it there. Then she heard him say, "I can put it on your clit if you'd rather."

She had to do it. She was Paul's' sex toy and that's what he wanted. She reached up and tried to gently release the clip on her nipple. It still hurt like crazy.

Paul the grabbed her head and started fucking her throat again, holding her head by the sides. She now had even more trouble breathing because her nipples hurt so much that she sometimes forgot to take a breath. But even when she was about to pass out she didn't raise her hands. Not to push Paul, not to save her nipples.

And then Paul rammed her head against his cock, almost breaking her nose against his pelvic bone and he pumped his cum directly into her stomach. He held his cock all the way in her throat for the next 3 minutes but his cock got small enough that she could breathe around it. Then as she looked up at him in fear, Paul reached down and removed the clips.

Finally - relief.

Anne held her mangled tits and waited to see what was next. After what had transpired, the rest was pretty tame. Paul had Anne watch porno flicks. Every afternoon when she could come over, he had her watch the videos while playing with herself. Anne actually came to enjoy this. The films turned her on and playing with the vibrator felt good too.

It was not the kind of climaxes she had when Paul dragged her through the gutter. But it was pleasant cum after pleasant cum. And after the first afternoon, it was a welcome relief.

Sometime while watching Paul would walk in and have her blow him. Nothing major, just a blow job and then back to the movie. Paul even had her use the vibrator on herself while blowing him so she got off too. And occasionally Paul would have her get on all fours facing the TV screen and would spank her bottom while she watched. Anne actually found herself looking forward to the spanking sessions since that turned her on more than just watching.

Of course, Paul was careful to pick out the right kind of videos. He never got any that had scenes of men and women in love with each other. Instead, all the videos were ones where men used the women. And over time the films got nastier and nastier until Paul was showing Anne European films that couldn't be rented in the US.

Meanwhile, every day Anne wore her butt plug, removing it only to shit and shower. And each week Paul gave Anne a slightly bigger plug to help open up her ass. One day Paul gave Anne an enema bag and told her to start using that daily, increasing the volume regularly and reporting the size she could take.

And through all of this Anne tried to live a normal life away from Paul. She went to school, worked at the video store, and spent time at home with her family. However, Paul was always there somehow. Every morning and night when she used her vibrator, his face filled her fantasy.

One Sunday he met her at church just before the service. The slipped into a bathroom and Paul gave Anne an enema and then plugged it with her butt plug. Anne spent the entire service next to her father, wanting to release the enema and unable to during the service, and afterward when she had to walk around with her parents.

Finally she got away and released it. And finally Paul gave her tapes to play on her Walkman when she was jogging. The tapes were a combination of the sound from porno movies, and Anne's commenting about herself while cumming. And behind it all, was Paul's soft voice telling her how she was his slut, and that she was his to use however she pleased.

Anne would be jogging down the street, normal people all around her, and she would be hearing people fucking or herself in the throes of passion. She was hearing this so often while viewing everyday normal life that she started to associate everything with sex. It was never off her mind.

On the weekend they would go dancing. But it was always so tame compared to the last time that Anne never objected to anything. Paul would play with her tits while ordering from the waitress. Or he would spread Anne's legs and life her skirt and play with her clit for people sitting across from them.

Many times he had Anne scrunch down, spread her legs, and pull her pussy lips apart to show others the view under the table. He started training her to never sit on her skirt, but to always raise the back of it. For many of her tight dresses this had the effect of pulling the skirt to her waist, clearly showing her pussy. But Paul allowed no exceptions.

Anne came to accept that others would see her tits and pussy. Every time she showed any modesty, Paul took a belt to her ass and beat it out of her. And Anne much preferred showing her cunt to being whipped. So when they went out, it just became a fact of life to Anne that others would see her cunt. She was Paul's slut and that was that.

And when they slow danced, Paul would usually play with her pussy. Anne loved that, out there in the middle of all those people being brought to a quiet orgasm. And at least once per evening she would return the favor, bringing Paul to orgasm, staining the front of her dress.

As she continued to watch the porno films each afternoon, she started to see women tied down and whipped lightly, the whippings became heavier and heavier. Women were pierced. Women drank piss, Women fucked dogs. But each time something new was introduced, it was a gradual change.

And Anne had become so conditioned to climaxing constantly while watching, that she kept climaxing to more and more depraved acts. And they were turning her on. Anne loved seeing a woman treated in the vilest manner.

Pretty soon there wasn't anything worse to get for Anne. So he had her pick favorite parts to watch again and again. Anne found herself judging the films and repeating the scenes where women were treated the worst. She was selecting knowing what Paul wanted. But in the course of making those selections, she was making her own preference be for the films where the woman was treated the worse.

And this was Anne's "normal" life. To watch women tortured unmercifully every afternoon and to get off on it. To jog around town in everyday places listening to tapes of violent sex. To go out Saturday night and arrange her dress so men could easily see her cunt and tits. Wearing an ass plug constantly. Giving herself an enema daily. And using vibrators every night and morning.

All this poured into the mind of an impressionable young 17-year-old girl who had never known love, had never been told there was another way, and who had all the normal worries of a high school senior, homework, parents, friends. The mind is a wonderful thing. Make almost anything routine and the mind will adapt to handle it. Anne remained a well adjusted teen girl, at least it appeared so.

Chapter 8 - Halloween

Both Paul and Anne had been very careful to keep Anne's "normal" life separate from her life with Paul. Just a whisper of Anne's seeing an older man, older being anyone out of High School, would bring way too much scrutiny from Ann's father, and possibly the police. Paul did not want to see that happen. And Anne, she would never be able to face anyone ever again if the truth came out. So Anne lived two lives.

But with a Halloween dance at Anne's school, Paul was determined to go with her. With a costume on, no one would know who he was, or his age. Anne on the other hand felt depressed when Paul told her that he would go with her. She did not understand why but inside her, school had been her refuge from Paul and her family. School was the one place where she could relax with her friends and just have the worries and problems of every other 17- year-old girl. School was where the real Anne lived.

But Paul didn't ask Anne if she wanted him to go. And Anne didn't offer Paul her opinion - not on anything. So Anne was going to the dance with Paul. She arrived Friday evening at Paul's house as instructed. Paul then laid out her costume for her. It was a bridal gown. Anne was uneasy as soon as she saw the gown. This wasn't right.

Marriage was something very special to her. Like most young girls, she knew that someday she would find the right boy and they would get married. And that day would forevermore be one of the most special days in her life. Marriage was for love and caring and a lifetime commitment with that one special boy. Anne's eyes started to mist over as she thought of someday finding that boy and being happily married. And then, with a word from Paul she was shaken out of her daydream.

"Get dressed my little whore wife."

NO, no he couldn't drag this dream down into the gutter with her. Not this. It would mean that when she really got married, it would just be a reminder of one more sex game Paul played with his little whore. He couldn't do this to her. He couldn't destroy what would someday be the most special day of her life. He just couldn't take that away from her.

"Oh no Paul, please not that dress. I can't dress as a bride, I just can't. Oh god, please don't make me do it." And with that Anne threw herself at Paul's feet sobbing and holding his feet and begging him to let her wear something else.

Paul was totally taken aback by this. He had plans for later in the evening that would make the dress appropriate. But he had never expected this kind of reaction. Just the thought of wearing it was devastating Anne. He really, really needed to take this into consideration.

Paul crouched down and pulled Anne up so she was kneeling too, facing up to him. He had never seen a face so full of anguish and despair. Anne was shivering with fear. So much so that she would probably have fallen over if he hadn't been holding her.

"Dear, dear Anne," Paul said softly stroking her face. "Don't you love me.

Don't you love me more than anything?"

"Ye-yes Paul, I love you. Oh dear god I love you. But please do---" Paul put a finger on her lips and shushed her. Then he went back to stroking her face. "And I love you my little piece of fuck-meat. You're my sweet little whore. You're my special little hot cunt."

And with each word Paul said Anne shook as though hit. Her poor little mind didn't know how to take the loving words that also called her a slut. The gentle hand stroking her face as Paul continued to tell her how he loved to watch her suck his cock and spread his cum all over her face. Her mind wanted to both hold Paul for saying he loved her and run for being called a slut.

Paul continued to talk to Anne watching her get wound up tighter and tighter. "Such a beautiful little girl when you lie back and masturbate while watching porno videos. I love you so much when I see you dancing with other men jacking their cocks off onto the front of your dress. Such a vision of loveliness when you spread your legs under the table and pull your pussy lips apart to show other men your cunt. I dream of you every night, thinking of you at home, using your vibrator on your clit, while your parents are sleeping in the room next to yours."

And Anne got more and more confused. Paul was talking in the gentle voice of a kind man who loved her. And he was telling her that. But with each comment about the acts he made her perform, she wanted to scream and run away. God, her shaking was getting so bad she had to put both arms around Paul's neck to not fall over.

Yes, she was a slut. But Paul loved her that way. It was ok that she was a slut, no - no it wasn't. She wasn't really a slut. She was a good girl. Yes, she really was - wasn't she. But no, a good girl wouldn't do all those things. She was a slut and Paul loved her anyways. Even with everything she had done, he still loved her. But no, no, she--

Paul saw her eyes go totally vacant and her shaking become even more pronounced, he reached down to her clit and started rubbing while whispering to her, "Whore, cunt, slut, fuck-meat, cum for me you little slut - you know that's what you want. Cum all over my fingers and show me what a whore you are."

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