Chapter 15

Connie and Michelle drove back toward the metro center where Connie worked, searching for an address on the card. To keep Michelle's vaginal motor running so that Connie could use both hands on the wheel, Connie told Michelle to masturbate. At first, the child denied knowing what that meant, but Connie wasn't buying. A few blocks of pressure and Michelle began using her fingers for the purpose God intended--one hand working the clit, the other fingering the hole. Connie kept looking over and smiling at her masturbating daughter, wishing Bob were present to bear witness.

Michelle said, "Mom, don't watch me do it."

"I like watching you play with your pussy. I think a young girl masturbating is very sexy."

"You think everything is sexy. You're a whore."

"Smile when you say that, padnah."

"Don't make me laugh. I'm trying to think nasty."

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"No, it's private and it's secret, and nobody's business but mine. Isn't it enough that I'm friggin' off in a fuckin' car? Tell me why I'm doing this again."

"To keep you good and horny so you won't chicken out and want to go home."

"I'm fucking myself, then."

"In a manner of speaking, yes. If I didn't need both hands, I'd do it for you. Whether you do it or I do it doesn't matter as long as you arrive good and horny, ripe for a fucking."

Those brutally honest and provocative had an immediate impact. Fingers worked harder and faster as Michelle said, "Mom, you must be the horniest whore on earth to do what you're doing. I hope you know that."

"I know that."

"Mom, suppose the guys want to fuck me, and suppose I'm so ripe I want them to. Will you let them?"

"Sure, why not. I think that would be fun to watch."

"I'll bet you ask them if they want to. I'll bet you they do, and I'll bet you hold my legs apart for them."

"I'll bet you I know what you've been thinking. I'll bet you like thinking about someone holding your legs apart while a bunch of guys fuck you."

Silence told the tale. A block passed before Michelle said, "Oh yeah, well, that's not all I think about when I masturbate. You'll never guess what else, that's for sure."

"You think about licking someone's pussy, probably mine. Does that sign say Elmhurst?"

"Yes... how do you do that?"

"I just spotted the bigger street sign."

"NO! I mean how do you know what I think about?"

"I know you. I know that you like my pussy. You are a part of me, and I can read your mind."

"Geeez, I never thought you'd guess that."

While pulling into an underground parking garage, Connie said, "That wasn't a guess. I told you, I can read your mind."

"No you can't. If you can, tell me what I'm thinking right now."

"You're hoping they'll want us to lick each other's pussies."

"WOW, this is freaky! Totally freaky... Do you think they will, and if they do, would you do it?"

"They might and I would. I'd love to suck on your adorable little pussy."

"No kidding, you'd love to!"

Connie came to rest in a space and turned off the engine, saying, "I almost did it on the bed."

"I wish you had. I wish somebody would. I sure would like to know what that feels like. I'll bet... AHHH... Whaaa... Moooooooommmmmmmm!... "

Connie grabbed both of Michelle's ankles and dragged her ass over and then dove on her little clam, granting her wish. Michelle was speechless with her head against the door, chin digging into her chest, and her legs held apart, watching her mommy eat pussy--her pussy. She ate it whole, and she ate the hole. She ate everything there was to eat and even ate the butt hole. If it was between Michelle's legs, it got ate, but she stopped before Michelle could climax. That would defeat the purpose.

Michelle was in agony as her mother sat up and wiped her face. She cried, "Mom, do me more, pleeezzzz!"

"You'll get more later if you're a good girl for these men, and if you're not, I'll take a belt to you and whip you between your legs. I'll whip your little cunt if you so much as look at them funny. I'm serious. I'll do it."

"I know. Don't worry, Mom. I'll be good. You'll get great pictures to show Bob. When he sees them, he'll want to fuck me. I know he will."

"I hope so. I swear, Michelle, if he looks over those pictures and doesn't set a date, I'm going to give you that whipping anyway, because that tells me that you didn't try hard enough."

"If that happens, I deserve a whipping right on my pussy. I won't try to get out of it, either."

Connie cupped her daughter's face warmly, smiled, and said, "That's my little trooper. Come on. Let's go show those guys what you've got to offer a pervert."

"Yeah, let's see if we can get them to fuck us."

Connie didn't like souring Michelle's hot and horny mood by threats of whippings, but she had to find out if Michelle could deal with abusive treatment before this went any further. Bob's remark about his sadistic bent and desires "to make the little bitches suffer" kept coming back to haunt her. Connie was now satisfied that Michelle was willing to suffer to get what she wanted. The threat of whippings, even the unjust whipping to vent frustration, didn't alter her mood one iota. If anything, she left that talk even more turned on.

Furthermore, her mind was set to get fucked by Bob. That was now a goal, the objective. There was no more need to beat around the bush on that score. Connie saw no reason to drag their feet, but knew Bob's style was to take each step one step at a time. The first step was pictures, just pictures and some prep work, whatever that meant. At least Connie had no misgivings about leading her daughter into this den of perverts with cameras. She, in fact, had to walk faster to stay up with Michelle.

On the twenty-second floor, at room 2219, the sign matched the logo on the card. Connie knocked when simply entering would likely be the norm. An attractive middle-aged man in slacks and a sport coat opened the door and greeted them warmly. He ushered them into a reception area, wallpapered with models' photos. Everything they saw told the mother and daughter that this was a real working studio.

He led them through to a studio set with a bed surrounded by lighting equipment and cameras on tripods. Three other men worked at setting and testing the equipment. All were nicely dressed and took only scant notice of the new arrivals. This was not at all what Connie expected. Michelle appeared to be in awe at being in a real modeling studio.

The man who had introduced himself as Art, introduced the others who stopped whatever they were doing to acknowledge being introduced. Greg, Doug, and Brian were very cordial, but went right back to work. Art said, "We'll be all set and ready in a few minutes. Why don't you remove her clothes. We'll do some touch-up to her hair, dust her with non-reflective powder, and then we'll roll."

He then dropped to one knee beside Michelle, cupped her cheek, and said, "Sweetheart, you just try to relax. Nobody is going to hurt you, and nobody will touch you without your permission. This is going to be fun, you'll see. Have you ever done any photo modeling?"

"No."

"Well, there's nothing to it. You just follow directions and play make believe. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

When he left and Connie proceeded to divest Michelle of her dress, Michelle whispered, "I don't think we're going to get screwed. I'll bet they're all gay."

"We don't need to get screwed. We're here to get you photographed by pros. Let's act professional."

"We're whores, Mom. How do we act professional without trying to fuck everybody?"

"We act like whores on vacation, all right?"

Connie liked the fact that Michelle used the term, "we're whores." This indicated that she accepted her destiny without the subject being broached. Her destiny was to be a Lolita whore for Bob. Connie wanted that destiny for Michelle very much. She wanted Bob to have the right to take Michelle away on weekends, or stop by and fuck her in her own bed, or take her to swinger orgies, or stag parties, or just take her away to make her suffer. Whatever he wanted of Michelle, Connie wanted him to have, and she didn't understand why, nor did she care to know why. The answer might ruin everything.

Greg came over after Connie had nuded her child. He used a teasing brush to fluff up her hair. Brian came over with a powder can and a duster and began lightly dusting her high points. He dusted her face, shoulders, buds, butt, pubic mound and inner thighs. While dusting her inner thighs, Michelle bowed her legs and giggled because the brush tickled her pussy.

Connie watched these men closely, and not one had an erection, nor did they think about what they were dusting. Michelle may as well have been a mannequin or a pumpkin. On the other hand, if she had been bashful, their professional demeanor would have been calming.

Art was the master photographer. The shoot began with him directing Michelle in a series of artsie poses right out of Playboy magazine. He made her feel glamorous, beautiful, and sexy. Next came the Penthouse shots in which more pussy showed. He made her feel desirable and very female. Next came the Hustler series in which her knees were like opposite poles on a magnet in any position she was in. He made her feel like a nasty female. Next came Gynecology Quarterly where she felt like a female lab specimen. They even replaced the bed with a pelvic exam table, placed her feet in stirrups, and used a vaginal speculum to photograph her ovaries, or so it seemed.

Now it was time for Romper Room. Doug rolled out a cart piled with marital aids, gadgets, and vaginal gizmos. If there were a Toys R Us for twats, Doug had purchased one of each. Batteries alone must have cost a small fortune.

They left Michelle on the exam table with her feet in stirrups, the legs positioned wide apart with the table tilted up so she could look at her own asshole. They handed her items to use on herself, and often had to tell her how to use the item, which hole it was for, which end goes in, etc.

While Michelle diddled her clit with a vibrating butterfly, Art approached Connie off to the side. He held a standard, everyday, drug store, white, vibrating, twat wand and quietly said, "To go further, she'll need to lose her cherry. It would be best if you did it, and did it with this. As soon as she cums, insert till you feel resistance, then give the end a smack. If she feels anything, it'll be very minor. Let's just hope she's not a bleeder or we'll have to finish in another session."

Connie took the wand and said, "Well, we must go further. Art, tell me something. Are you guys Cyborgs or what?"

"You're wondering if we're gay, right?"

"Well, the thought crossed my mind. I mean, how can you watch a kid like her and not bust a zipper?"

"Connie, we work around great looking kids all day long. We are now working overtime, and we're all bushed. We had a rough day today."

"You do this all day long?"

"No no... this is rare, special order stuff, tippy top secret for a select clientele. This never happened, but this never happens roughly once a month, and Bob is my best customer. We are not gay."

"Just wondering. Actually, I really thought you were Cyborgs. I'm a bit disappointed. I've heard good things."

Connie approached Michelle's beaver after they finished with the butterfly shot. Mommy smiled and turned on the motor. Michelle was too delirious to appreciate that devilish smile. She appreciated another vibrating thing on her clit, though. She was soon wriggling and squirming, moaning and groaning, and then she heaved up and let out a guttural AHHHHH. Connie quickly inserted, eased in, felt resistance, then smack--no more virgin and Michelle only winced.

There was blood but very minor. Connie began working the wand all the way in and almost all the way out. When Michelle's eyes could focus, she saw this and went wide-eyed, exclaiming, "Mom, what happened?"

"You're not a virgin anymore, that's what happened. I'm fucking you."

"You are! Far out! I like it. Get a bigger one."

Art said, "Yes, we need to move this along. Let's go with the number eight. Greg, get the enema going. Connie, I'll have to ask you to step away."

Connie stepped away but said, "I feel so used."

Connie was in a very playful, jovial mood, but the guys were all business, and Michelle was their business. Connie wished she'd thought to bring a friend along, then remembered, she had no friend she could bring along to something like this. And then she remembered Roy. He was her friend, and he was into corrupting the very young. While fucking, they became very close. That fuck was the best of their marriage. Her bold infidelity and blunt sex lesson made them close again. She told him she liked men who fucked little girls, and he told her he liked unfaithful slut wives. She didn't need to hide this from him; she hid out of habit; and now he was probably home wondering where the fuck his girls were.

Connie said, "Art, may I use your phone to make a local call?"

"As long as you're not going to call the police, yes."

"Damn, is there a pay phone nearby?"

All four heads popped up and were staring at her with dread expressions. Connie raised her hands and said, "Can't you guys take a joke!"

Art said, "That wasn't funny."

"Obviously not. Please, go back to molesting my child."

Connie used the phone in the reception area and Roy picked up on the first ring:

"Hello."

"Hey, stud. How would you like some nice, tight, ten-year-old pussy tonight?"

"I'd love some. Who?"

"Does the name Michelle ring any bells with you?"

"Michelle?"

"Michelle. She's an ex-virgin and wants to fuck her daddy. Are you interested?"

"The question is, am I her daddy?"

"I think you are. Most of the other possibles were blacks, Mexicans, or Chinese."

"Hell yeah, I'm interested. Connie, where are you?"

"I'm at a photo studio getting pictures of Michelle made."

"What, for school, at this hour?"

"For Bob. He wants to see her nude body before he'll decide whether she's worth the bother. I think he'll like what he sees. They're coming out fantastic. She's very photogenic, especially with the beaver shots."

"Connie, if this is one of your jokes, it ain't funny."

"This is no joke, Roy. I told you, I like men who fuck little girls. I like Bob a lot. He has an account here, and he's their best customer."

"Christ, Connie, have you lost your mind! This guy is a fucking child molester."

"And what are you, a child tickler?"

"What I do is different."

"Not under the law it's not. You can't fuck 'em till they're eighteen, no matter what God says. Them's the rules, Jack."

"Shit, Connie, you're in way over your head with this shit."

Connie became serious, saying, "I know, Roy, but I've come this far and I want to go farther. She's going to get scarfed up by John and Dr. Jacob anyway. Bob is no worse than they are and he shows a hell of a lot more common sense and concern for their welfare--physical and mental. At least, if they don't like what he's doing, Bob won't mess with them."

"Maybe so, Connie, but she won't get scarfed up by the church until she's fourteen or fifteen. John will be gone by the time she's thirteen."

"And another will take his place, besides, they're going after younger and younger girls all the time. It won't be long until they are down to the eleven and twelve-year-olds. Besides, what does a few years matter. She is destined to be bred. She's a COG bitch."

"Yeah, I suppose. How does Michelle feel about this?"

"She's in seventh heaven. Like I said, she wants to fuck her daddy."

"She said that?"

"Yes, and I'll hold her legs apart for you and eat her out when you're done."

"Shit, come on down!"

"That's why I called. It looks like we'll be a while longer. They're working her holes over with dildoes, plus, all the film they took has to be developed and out of here when we leave. You'll have some great dirty pictures to look over, but they belong to Bob, and so does your daughter, so don't get possessive."

"Great, another thing I can't be possessive about with Bob."

"Don't pout. You should have known I'd end up being an unfaithful slut when you married me."