Chapter 3

He walked right in as if he lives here. Heather got to her feet and stood beside me as he approached the kitchen. He looked us both over closely and he seemed satisfied with the way we’re dressed. I took a deep breath and sighed in relief. But still, I’m going to have to say something to him if he doesn’t say anything first.

He said, “I’m surprised. You two did pretty well. Let’s go.”

Then he turned and started for the door.

“Mr. Kent,” I called out quietly, trying not to sound desperate. “This blouse is nearly invisible. I’ll be arrested for indecent exposure!”

“Don’t be silly. You look decent to me. Both of you look pretty hot. You might as well get used to it. You’re both going to wear more interesting outfits than that in the next few years. I like seeing my cunts in slut clothes. I like it even more when they hate it. Quit stalling. Let’s go.”

I grabbed my purse and Heather and I hurried after him. I locked the front door and we followed him to his car. It’s Saturday morning. This is a low rent apartment complex with only one amenity, a ratty little laundry room with half a dozen coin operated washers and dryers. No pool, no playground, nothing. But it’s a nice day. People are out and about. We passed a dozen people as we made our way to his car. I saw the looks. The women all looked at me like I’m a major slut. The men all looked at me like I’m a major slut they want very much to have sex with. The only good thing about all the attention I was attracting from my neighbors is that they were so intent on staring at my breasts and my legs they hardly noticed Heather.

Mr. Kent opened the front passenger door of his car and ordered us in. Heather started to climb into the back but he ordered her into the middle of the front seat. He watched with interest as Heather got in and slid over. The little skirt she’s wearing rode up and more than a little of her little white panty crotch was exposed. It stayed exposed even after she tried in vain to tug her skirt down to cover it.

I sat down beside her and was dismayed but not surprised to find that my crotch is exposed, too. It’s worse for me, though. I’m not wearing panties. Mr. Kent stood there holding my door open and enjoyed the view for a moment. Then he closed the door, went around and got in the driver’s seat.

He ignored us as he buckled up, started the car and drove off. But as soon as he turned onto the road from the parking lot his right hand left the steering wheel and came to rest on Heather’s thigh. His little finger was only an inch from the crotch of her silky nylon panty!

She jumped and then gasped loudly when his hand came into contact with her upper thigh. But other than that, she showed no reaction to his improper touch. She sat still and stared straight ahead.

I continued to watch his hand out of the corner of my eye. If his hand went higher I planned on saying something. I know he had already gone too far. I also know I’m powerless to stop him. If anything, he’d probably be amused by how much it hurts me to see him so brazenly molesting my little girl. But I’d have to try.

Heather’s knuckles are white, with good reason. If nothing else happens today, she certainly has fodder for a new masturbatory fantasy when she goes to bed tonight. Unfortunately, I’m reasonably certain a lot more is going to happen today. The man is a rapist. He has already begun to molest her. He has more in mind than a pleasant ride in the country.

Mr. Kent didn’t move his hand the rest of the way up my daughter’s thigh. Instead, he slid it down slowly to her knee and then back up to the same place in a gentle caress that no thirteen-year-old girl should ever experience. I saw Heather’s breathing rate change. Her small but well-formed breasts began rising and falling rapidly and her face is flushed.

It’s obvious that despite the way she feels about Mr. Kent she’s enjoying his touch on a part of her rapidly maturing body no man should touch. I can’t blame her. She has no choice but to let him touch her. She doesn’t want his hand on her thigh. But I have recently learned how exciting it is to be touched in those intimate parts of my body by a man, even when I fear and despise the man. She said it perfectly earlier. “Your body likes what your body likes.”

We hadn’t gone far before we turned into the parking lot of a store called Sweet Nothings. I suppose I’ve seen it before but I never paid any attention. As I said, I don’t have a lot of money to spend on clothes, especially not on sexy lingerie no one is ever going to see.

It’s early. The store has probably only been open for ten or fifteen minutes. There are only a couple of cars in the parking lot. We got out and as we approached the store I’m better able to see the window displays. I can easily see why Mr. Kent brought us here. The clothes on display are all obviously designed to accent a woman’s sexuality, or display her private parts blatantly. The many mannequins in the window displays are wearing some very sexy lingerie and a selection of equally sexy outer garments. See-through tops and tiny little micro miniskirts are everywhere I look.

We entered the store and were greeted immediately by a beautiful, sexy redhead. She approached us and said, “Hello, Mr. Kent. I haven’t seen you in a quite a while. Welcome back.”

I noticed as she greeted him, though, that despite her friendly greeting she seems uncomfortable. It’s obvious that whatever their relationship they aren’t friends. I don’t know how well she knows Mr. Kent or from where. But I get the impression she’s afraid of him the way you fear someone who you suspect may be violent or a bit unstable. That didn’t make me feel any better about our situation.

Mr. Kent nodded. He didn’t even seem to notice how obvious it is the redhead doesn’t want him in her store. He said, “Hi, Jo. I have a couple of friends who need to spice up their wardrobes. I couldn’t think of a better place to do that than your store.”

She looked at Heather and me, but she spoke to him, “The girl is a little young, isn’t she?”

Mr. Kent said, “Yeah, but don’t worry. She’s just window dressing. I’m not going to hurt her.”

Jo did not look convinced. I’m not either. I’ve already learned he’s an unabashed liar. His word means nothing to him. But with a skeptical look on her face Jo nodded and said, “We have a lot of new arrivals since you were here last. I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

She’s saying all the right things. But it’s obvious she’d be much happier if he did his shopping elsewhere. He’s devious and dangerous but he isn’t stupid. There’s no way he’s unaware of the woman’s true feelings about him. But he obviously couldn’t care less.

We followed Mr. Kent around the surprisingly large store. He’s in no hurry. He stopped to look at nearly every sexy article of clothing on every rack. He picked up one slutty item of clothing after another and handed them to me. He selected several sheer blouses which are just as revealing as the one I’m wearing. He selected a couple more which contain so little material it didn’t look like they could cover both of my nipples at the same time. He handed me skirts so short I had serious doubts they’ll even cover my pussy.

It’s bad enough he’s selecting these slutty clothes for me. But for every article of clothing he handed me he handed a similar but smaller article of clothing to Heather.

We finally reached a large selection of crop tops and halter tops. Almost all of them had some sort of suggestive or obscene writing on the front. He handed me several of them that said things like, “I Swallow,” and “I Put Out,” with a picture of a fire extinguisher, and another which has the nasty word “Cum,” written on the side of the picture of a dumpster in large letters. Even I know what a damned cum dump is for Christ’s sake!

There were others. He seemed to find them very amusing and the nastier they were the more he liked them. He handed me one with a picture of a cute little kitten that said, “Eat My Pussy,” and one that said, “Looking for a Few Good Men!”

Then he picked out another batch for Heather. Hers said things like; “Slut in Training,” “I heart My Vagina, do you?”, “My Nipples Get Harder than Most Guy’s Dicks,” “Designed for Pleasure,” and “Wanna Get Lucky? Kiss My Clover,” with a shamrock placed over one nipple.

As he picked them out and handed them to her I felt my face getting white. She’s too young to even be thinking things like the sentiments expressed on those tops! She’s certainly too young to be wearing things like that!

The last area of the store he led us through was the section with the large selection of incredibly sexy lingerie. None of it was made for kids but that didn’t stop Mr. Kent.

He made me measure Heather for a bra right there in the aisle with a tape measure he borrowed from Jo. Then he picked out half a dozen slutty, revealing bra and panty sets for both of us in various colors and styles. He also picked up a handful of thongs and similarly revealing panties for both of us.

The only thing left was to pick out a few bathing suits for each of us. I don’t know why. We never go swimming.

We were both about to collapse under the weight of the clothing he has already selected, despite how little material there is in each item.

Jo, the very attractive red headed owner, and a salesgirl who introduced herself as Kara, came over and took our selections from us. Jo told us they’re going to put them on a rack. We can pick them up at the counter when we finish shopping. We followed Mr. Kent into the little corner where all of the tiny little bathing suits are displayed. One section has a big colorful sign over it advertising “Wicked Weasel” suits.

Mr. Kent seemed to recognize that brand and headed right for them. He picked out several suits for both of us. I can’t help wondering where someone in his line of work is getting the money for this very expensive shopping trip because he knows I don’t have any money. I haven’t been keeping track. But this stuff is expensive. I’ll be surprised if the bill isn’t over a thousand dollars!

We finally went to the counter and Jo asked if we were going to try our purchases on. I was relieved he told her we’re in a hurry. I don’t want to try these things on. I don’t ever want to put them on!

Jo obviously disapproves of the outfits he picked out for my daughter. I do, too. But she has no way of knowing that. She keeps giving me dirty looks because I’m allowing this evil man to select all these slutty garments for my young daughter. I don’t blame her for judging me, though. She has no way of knowing I don’t have a choice.

I watched, embarrassed, as she rang it all up and her assistant put it in bags. I was astounded when the total came to just over $1,500!

It took all three of us to carry it all out to the trunk of the car. I was worn out by the time we got back in the car. We’ve been walking all around that store for almost two hours. We stopped at every display and waited while Mr. Kent loaded us down with an increasingly heavy load of new clothes. Well, the individual items weren’t heavy. But after a while that armload of clothes weighed a ton!

Just like before, as soon as we were on the road, Mr. Kent’s hand went to Heather’s thigh. I watched out of the corner of my eye with growing discomfort as his fingertips caressed her sensitive skin and drew little circles, often getting very near to the exposed crotch of her panties.

Poor Heather is having a hell of a time acting like nothing is happening.

I thought we’d be going back to our apartment now to drop off the clothes or perhaps even provide Mr. Kent with a fashion show. Instead, he drove to a photography studio on the edge of the industrial district. I glanced at the time. It’s just before one in the afternoon but the shop looks closed. I sat there and looked around nervously. I can’t help but have a bad feeling about this.

Mr. Kent said, “You two wait here.”

He favored us both with a threatening glare, got out and went to the door.

He tried the door and when it wouldn’t open he rang the doorbell. He stood waiting for someone to come out of the back and unlock the door. He spoke briefly to the man who opened the door and they went around to the back of the car and opened the trunk. The two of them carried all the bags containing our new clothes inside. When they closed and locked the door I saw the closed sign moving around on the glass door.

I looked at Heather. She’s looking back at me and she looked just as worried as I am.

“Doesn’t look good, does it?” I asked.

Heather just shook her head and then sat with her head back against the seat and her eyes closed.

A long moment passed before she quietly replied, “I have a sneaking suspicion we aren’t going to like it here.”

“I think you’re right,” I said, almost under my breath as if someone might overhear us talking. “Maybe we should get out of here. I made a mistake. I should take my chances with the courts. I may have to go to prison for a while. But you’ll be safe. I could probably handle whatever they do to me more easily than I can handle what he has in mind for us in there.

“He obviously intends to make you a part of this or he wouldn’t have bought you all of those awful clothes and brought you here. Hell, he already made you a part of this. I screwed up. I can’t allow this.”

Heather was quiet for a moment and then she said, “There isn’t anything you can do against him. You already know that. We discussed it. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. It looks like bad things are going to happen to us today. Bad things happen to girls a lot younger than me every day. I’ll get through it.”

Like I said, she’s a very smart kid. And she’s very, very brave.

I said, “Yes, bad things happen to young girls all of the time. But not usually with the help of their mothers.”

Heather sighed. She’s still leaning back with her eyes closed. She reached for my hand and said, “You aren’t helping him. I know you’d protect me if you could. That’s one scary dude in there and we both know it. And he would put you in jail in a heartbeat. God knows what would happen to me then. I’ll bet he’s planned for that. I wouldn’t be surprised that if he had you locked up he’d still be able to get to me. Hell! He might end up with custody of me!”

I hadn’t thought of that! There’s a good chance she’s right. He certainly seems to know how to work the system.

He left us sitting there for nearly fifteen minutes. But that was fine with us. We’re in no hurry to go inside. It doesn’t take a genius to know bad things are going to happen to us in there. We talked quietly and tried to comfort each other in advance of the terrible things we suspect were about to happen to us.

Mr. Kent finally came back out to get us. He opened my door and after we got out he locked the car. He looked around as if to make sure no one is watching. That didn’t make me feel any better about this. He snarled, “You two better not give me a hard time in there if you know what’s good for you.”

Then he led us inside.

There was no one in the front room when we entered. As Mr. Kent was locking the door a man came in through another door and looked at us. He’s older than Mr. Kent, and not as large. But he’s still a pretty big guy. He stared at both of us and then he smiled at Mr. Kent. We weren’t introduced, though. No one said a word to us.

The stranger turned around and went back through the door he came through. Mr. Kent nodded at us to follow him. I took Heather’s hand and we followed the man down a short hallway and into a room set up as a studio.

There are lights and cameras set up around an area made to look like a bedroom. All the clothing we just bought is stacked in neat piles on the king size bed which is the focal point of the room.

That’s scary enough. But sitting in chairs just off camera are a dozen men. They’re all staring at us as we entered the room. Well, they aren’t so much staring at us as leering. I watched as they made comments quietly among themselves. It’s obvious they’re talking about us. Thankfully we can’t hear what they’re saying. I’m scared enough.

Mr. Kent took us aside and said, “This is what’s going to happen. You two are going to go over to the set. Heather, you’re going to sit on the bed, put your feet up and lean back against the headboard. You’ll watch as your mother tries on all her new clothes.”

He turned to me and pointed out that our new clothes are in piles starting with bathing suits and then lingerie and that’s where I’m to start. I’m to try on each bathing suit and each item of lingerie. When I finish with them I start trying on the items in the next pile. Except for the matched bra and panty sets I’m only to try on one item at a time so I’ll either be topless or bottomless the entire time. After I put each item on I’m to turn around slowly and model it for my daughter’s approval.

After I try on all my new clothes I’m to remain undressed and help my daughter try on all the items he bought for her in the exact same order. He warned us that we are never to look in the direction of the audience and we are never to look directly at any of the cameras. We are to act as though the two of us are all alone in the room and we better look like we’re having fun.

He finished telling us what we have to do and growled one last warning, that there had best be a lot of smiles, because if we need to be reminded we would really not like the reminders they use, a vague but effective threat.

Lastly, he told us not to dawdle. We need to keep up a lively pace so the audience doesn’t get too bored watching us humiliate ourselves for their viewing pleasure.

I pulled Heather close and hugged her, fighting back the tears. I knew it was hopeless but I had to try. I said to Mr. Kent, “She’s so young, Mr. Kent. Couldn’t it just be me? I’ll do anything you ask.”

He grinned and responded, “I’m not asking. I’m ordering. Since you’re obviously a stupid cunt and haven’t figured it out yet, let me explain. It’s her youth that some of these perverts find attractive. They’d be even happier if she was five years younger. Now start smiling, get your asses up there and don’t piss me off. Trust me. There are worse movies we can make. We make a lot of those kinds here, too. They’re some of our top sellers. Believe it or not, the world is full of fucking perverts.”

I shuddered because my imagination filled my mind with possible nasty scenarios in an instant. I thought I had an idea what kinds of “worse movies” he was talking about. And despite his assurances I’m not convinced this isn’t going to turn into one of those movies after we’ve tried on all our new clothes.

Heather shrugged and took my hand. We put on something as close to a smile as we could manage considering how scared we are. She squeezed my hand reassuringly and led me to the set. The large bed is surrounded by a carpeted area which extends out about twenty feet from both sides and from the foot of the bed.

Heather led me to the bed and found just enough room to sit against the headboard beside the last pile of my clothing. She didn’t try very hard to adjust her skirt when she sat down. But then, what would be the point?

I looked down at the piles of new clothes. The first tiny pile is the Wicked Weasel swimming suits. They’re so small I hadn’t even been able to see them from just inside the door where we were standing when we received our orders. The next small pile is lingerie, then the crop tops, the blouses, and finally the tiny skirts.

I smiled at Heather as best I could. I knew it was a very weak imitation of a smile but it’s hard to smile when it’s obvious you and almost certainly your young daughter are about to be raped by more than a dozen men. I took a deep breath and started undressing. I undressed in front of a man for the first time in my life three days ago. Now I’m undressing in front of more than a dozen of them, as well as several cameras. There are three men moving around us. One of them is the man who unlocked the door and let us in. He’s taking picture after picture with a still camera. The other two are recording everything with professional-looking movie cameras. There are several more movie cameras placed around the bed on tripods.

It suddenly occurred to me where the money for our new clothing is coming from! These movies are going to be for sale!

I shuddered again as I wondered how many more strange men will have an opportunity to see me naked now ... thousands? But I obediently shrugged my blouse off. It didn’t cover anything anyway. My tiny skirt followed quickly. At least the audience remained silent. I would have had a hard time dealing with a lot of obscene comments.

I put the first of the tiny bikinis on and then I turned around, ostensibly to get Heather’s approval.

She smiled and nodded. I can’t say I was shocked when I looked down and saw how little it covers. But I can’t imagine any woman buying this suit of her own free will and actually wearing it to go to the beach! It only just barely covers my nipples and my vaginal opening. Most of my neatly trimmed little patch of pubic hair remains exposed.

I slipped the suit off and put on the next one. It’s basically the same suit in a different color. Neither suit is lined. The tiny patches of sheer cloth would obviously be transparent when wet. Not that it matters here.

The last of the suits was a strange looking one piece. I had to read the directions attached to the strap before I could figure out how to put it on. It’s made from an all but transparent powder blue material. It inadequately covers my nipples if I don’t move, then comes together just above my pussy and just barely covers my slit but not the mound around it. Then it becomes nothing but a piece of string which disappears between the cheeks of my butt and then up around my waist where it ties off to the front piece. I know for a fact this thing would be illegal at any public pool or beach in this state and probably in the entire country. But I’m not such a dumb cunt I didn’t know the men in our audience, and probably a majority of men everywhere would love it.

I saw Heather giggle quietly at the trouble I had with it. Her laughter kind of made me relax a little. It reassures me that she can react that way. Her strength and her courage really impress me. I smiled at her and then I took the damned thing off and moved on to the lingerie.

I tried on the orphan panties first, starting with the thongs. I have a sinking suspicion I’ll soon be shaving off the little bit of my pubic hair that remains. There’s nothing I’ve tried on yet that didn’t leave most if not all of my pubic hair exposed.

I tried on the three thongs and then the panties Kent selected for me. They’re only slightly more substantial than the thongs. At least they have a small piece of cloth which partially covers my butt. The material is nearly transparent though.

I tried on the bra and panty sets next. They’re all scandalous, too. No surprise there. But I had to admit they’re beautiful. Too sexy for my tastes, but they’d look good on someone else, someone with the nerve to wear them.

As I put each one on and turned around to model it I tried to ignore the fact that our ominously quiet audience of dirty old men is watching us, watching me put on what is basically a sex show. I tried not to notice the cameras coming in for the occasional close-up of my naked or nearly naked body and I tried not to wonder how many men will eventually buy the movie they’re making and see me naked.

I took off the last of the bra and panty sets and as I stepped out of the panties I noticed how damp the crotch panel was. I’m upset with myself for having that kind of reaction. How could posing naked for a dirty movie and stripping over and over again for more than a dozen perverts who I strongly suspect are soon going to rape me cause a reaction like this in my body?! I’m terribly embarrassed. I hope I’m the only one who’s aware of the fact that, physically at least, a part of me is becoming aroused.

The next pile of clothes in line is the crop tops. I put them on, modeled them and then took them off. As I put each one on, Heather was amused by the horrible things written across my chest in large letters. She read each suggestive or flat-out obscene come-on and frequently chuckled in amusement.

Her reaction helped to calm me. It made this horrible experience a little easier to bear and I was grateful. I winked at her as I changed in and out of the obscene garments.

I put on a half a dozen nearly transparent blouses next. They were no worse than the blouse I wore this morning but that’s no recommendation. The blouse I wore when I left the house this morning was obscene. The new ones are all just about as bad. The thing that worries me, or perhaps I should say one of the many things, is that these extremely revealing garments are now a large part of my wardrobe so I have to assume I’ll be wearing them out in public more often now. I hate to think where I’m going to be forced to go with my breasts so exposed.

Finally, I came to the small pile of skirts. This part went quickly. They’re unbelievably short. Some are even shorter than the miniskirt I made last night and wore today. Contemplating going anywhere in all these clothes is very unnerving. I thought I was testing the limits of the law when I left my apartment this morning. Some of these skirts make mine look modest!

I finally finished and took off the last of the skirts I had to try on for their amusement. Now it’s time for the part of this entertainment for perverts I’ve been trying not to think about. I stood there naked for a moment, steeling myself to do the unthinkable.

But I knew I couldn’t stand there forever. Fighting to hold back the tears I took Heather’s hand and gently pulled her to her feet. I lead her around the bed to the slutty clothes neatly stacked and waiting for her on the other side.

I leaned down and kissed the top of her head and reached for her little crop top. I whispered, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I know, mom. Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

Maybe, but I’m not certain that I can.

I gripped her already very revealing top and slowly pulled it up, exposing her breasts to the cameras and the perverts in the audience. She turned dark red but except for that she showed no reaction as I removed it.

The cameras swooped in for close-ups of her developing body. I saw the smiles on the faces of the cameramen and I saw the bulges in their pants. It’s all I can do to keep from screaming at them.

I saw the combination of fear and excitement in Heather’s eyes. There’s more there than just the embarrassment of being undressed by her mother in front of a group of perverts. She’s too young to be experiencing it. But there’s no denying the excitement a young person experiences when undressing in front of someone of the opposite sex, especially for the first time as I found out just a few short days ago.

I’m proud of her, though. Even as scared as she is she kept something resembling a smile on her face and didn’t balk when I dropped her little top on the floor and followed it quickly with her skirt. We looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. I whispered, ‘I’m so, so sorry’ and then I leaned down and skimmed her little panty down and off.

I helped her put the slutty little bathing suits on, one after the other. After she put each one on she would turn around to model it, ostensibly for me, but actually for the perverts and the cameras.

In the middle of one of her brief modeling turns I noticed for the first time that there are several large monitors set up at floor level between us and the audience. The perverts are probably able to see what the cameras are recording. I tried not to think about the obscene close-ups the cameras have been getting of the most intimate areas of our bodies.

I tried to keep it light. I remembered how much it helped me when she giggled at the obscene phrases on my crop tops earlier so I tried to control my rage at these awful men and teased her a little bit as we went down the line trying on one inappropriately slutty article of clothing after another. I could tell she appreciated my feeble efforts.

The obscene tops were the worst, for me at least. I couldn’t believe Kent would make a young girl just entering her teens wear those slutty shirts which cry out for some pervert to rape her. Unfortunately, I didn’t think for a moment he’d spend all that money on these slutty outfits and not come up with some opportunity to make us wear them.

While she was trying on the crop tops, and then the sheer blouses, I noticed she appeared much older than her thirteen years at times, probably because her breasts are so well developed and because the clothing was made for much older girls. The idea of that cold hearted bastard making her wear any of this slutty stuff where anyone might see her is breaking my heart.

I’m not even certain she knows what all those obscene writings mean. I suppose it’s all too likely she does, though. In light of what she has recently been telling me about the school she’s attending it’s likely her education in this area is much more advanced than it should be for a girl her age.