textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/sparerod.txt

                  "Spare the Rod"
By: Tiffany

     I had an uneasy feeling about accepting Frank Zimmerman's
frequent offers to look after Tiffany for me while I work.  I
work as a cocktail waitress in a downtown nightclub.  I leave at
six and don't get home until after two AM.  Any normal mother
would have been put off by his appearance alone.  As you'll soon
discover, I am not a normal mother.
     Frank was in his forties, short, sloppy, quiet, and
mysterious.  He was the kind of guy no girl finds attractive.  He
keeps to himself, has no sense of humor, and always looks
nervous.  He befriended me by helping me carry boxes when we
moved into the building.  I have turned to him for assistance a
few times since, small things, mostly.  Every time we met, he
made the offer.
     Tiffany was thirteen and quite able to look after herself. 
Our neighborhood was secure, rather nice.  He made me suspicious
of his motives right away.  I noted the way he devoured her with
his hungry, beady eyes.  She was a pixie with long, straight,
dark-brown hair and big, brown eyes.  She is a studious, quiet
girl that keeps to herself.  She stays at home and watches TV or
reads.  She's never been any trouble and we get along just
fine.  I know what men like Frank Zimmerman are thinking as they
watch a young girl's legs move beneath a skirt as she walks up
stairs ahead of him.
     I also know a cop that works off duty at the club.  He ran
what they call a rap sheet on Mr. Zimmerman.  It turned out that
my Frank had a lifetime history of sexually abusing young girls. 
He had a very long list of arrests, but only one conviction.  He
served eight years for statutory rape and had been out for four
years.
     My cop friend told me that a history like that suggests he
had some measure of control over the parents, probably with
pictures he threatens to distribute.  Taking pictures of his
victims was a common charge.  I took comfort from the fact that
no girl was ever killed, scared, or permanently hurt.  My friend
assured me that he wasn't the dangerous type, but bared watching.
One might wonder why I finally accepted his offer.
     Being a single mother, between relationships, I masturbate
and fantasize a great deal.  Until something better came along, I
was quite content.  My favorite fantasies involve beautiful young
virgins at the mercy of an ugly pervert, forced to endure
unimaginable degradation at his hands.  I avoided thinking about
my daughter in the starring role, but after meeting Frank, I
couldn't help it.  He became my male pervert model, and Tiffany's
young, budding, youthful, virginal body kept popping up in my
fantasies.  It got to the point where I could think of nothing
else.  Actually, it was that nothing got me off like imagining my
Tiffany at Frank's mercy.
     Part of the problem is Tiffany herself. The submissive doll
invites abuse.  She seems to feed off it.  No kid ever took to a
spanking like Tiffany did.  Her father had a thing for spanking,
especially little Tiffany.  We divorced when she was ten.  He
spanked her naked ass on a fairly regular basis, sometimes for
the lamest excuses.  Sometimes, when he was drunk, he didn't need
an excuse.  I can't tell you how many times I've sat beside him
on the sofa with Tiffany's bare ass staring in my face, watching
his big hand turn her tight, white buns a bright red.  My reward
was not just in watching her undeveloped pussy swell, pout, and
weep crystal clear juices.  Afterwards, I got the best sex ever. 
Consequently, I never gave him any static about the way he
treated Tiffany.
     In the last year of our marriage, when it seemed we were
constantly at odds, if I needed a good screwing, I made things 
up.  I'd shamelessly report an offense she never committed just
to excite him to the point where he'd forget our differences,
drag me to the bedroom, and pound his frustrations into my sex-
starved cunt.  I felt terrible afterwards, but Tiffany never said
anything about it, nor would she protest or deny my accusation. 
One night, when Frank was drunk, he accused her of playing with
herself in her sleep of all things.  He dragged her out of bed
and administered the spanking to her pussy.  He placed her on her
back and made her hold her legs wide apart.  He did more
manipulating than spanking, and Tiffany appeared to find the
treatment stimulating. I got the best fuck of our marriage that
night.
     He said he didn't remember doing it, but from then on,
whenever I had to make up an offense, I told him that I caught
her playing with herself again.  It didn't bother me in the
least.  I figured that if she wouldn't deny it, then she must
want it.  That's the only thing I miss about my marriage,
watching my husband punish Tiffany.  After the divorce, I
continued the practice of spanking her on her naked ass, but it
wasn't the same, and I couldn't bring myself to spank her for
nothing.  I also never spanked her pussy, though I've watched it
develop with great interest, noting the progress in my monthly
sessions.  To add to my frustrations, I hadn't had a session in
over three months, just at the time when she was blooming
sexually.  My last good look at her twat revealed a nice growth
of fine pubic hairs, full puffy labia, and her clit poked out
from between those sexy lips during the spanking.  I should
admit, I'm bi-sexual--more bi than not.
     I'm mostly into one nighters, but I've had two women move
in.  One lasted three months, the other three weeks.  I get a big
charge out of shocking Tiffany with my female lovers, and have no
qualms about going down on a girl with Tiffany in the room, or
vice versa.  She'd get embarrassed seeing me loving on a woman,
but then, she gets embarrassed if I bring a man home and start
sucking his dick.
     Tiffany embarrasses easily anyway.  Being forced to expose
herself always produces a nice flush.  Before her tits started
growing, there was no reason to strip her naked, simply turning
up her skirts was enough.  After her tits began budding, I made
her stand before me and strip naked as a prelude to a spanking. 
I also made her strip just to show her naked body
to a lover, male or female.  Nothing gets a man harder than a
budding teen standing naked in front of him.  Nothing gets me
wetter than making her strip and watching that adorable full-body
blush develop.
     I know, I should be put away in the bad mother's home for
life.  Maybe, but my mother was no June Cleaver.  At least I
never made Tiffany eat my pussy.  And I never held her legs apart
for a drunk sailor to mount.  I had thought about it, but to that
point, I'd resisted.  Frank Zimmerman weakened my resistance.  I
think you've had enough background; lets get back to Frank.    
     So I finally told Frank, I accept his kind offer.  I
informed Tiffany and ignored the distressed look she gave me. 
She said, "I can take care of myself, Mom.  You know that. 
Besides, he gives me the creeps."
     I simply said, "I know what's best for you, and you better
mind Mr. Zimmerman or you know what you'll get."  That was the
end of the discussion.  When Frank came up, I gave him the usual
routine for sitters: phone numbers and such.  I then addressed
Tiffany saying, "If Mr. Zimmerman tells me you gave him any
trouble what-so-ever, you'll get the belt on your naked ass." 
When I turned back to Frank, he had a gleam in his eye.  I told
him, "Don't take any shit off of her.  She can be a handful at
times.  I make it a policy not to interfere with my sitters.  You
handle her as you see fit.  Treat her like you would if she were
your own daughter."
     Frank looked at me like a bum that some rich guy was handing
hundred dollar bills to.  I knew my next statement would have him
creaming his jeans.  I said, "Some sitters require a release
before they'll discipline someone elses child.  I filled one out
and signed it.  It's there on the table.  It basically grants you
full authority to administer corporal punishment if you feel its
warranted, and grants you full immunity from prosecution."
     My pussy drooled watching that gleam in his eye.  I picked
up the paper and waved it under Tiffany's nose, saying, "You
better hope he isn't a child molester, young lady, because this
piece of paper pretty much grants him the right to do what he
pleases with you, so you behave yourself."  The look of dread in
Tiffany's eyes almost made me cum.  I kissed her on the lips and
made my exit.  I left that apartment, fully expecting that he'd
have his way with her.  I expected her to lose all three
virginities: oral, anal, and vaginal.  I knew she'd be bound and
beaten, probably with his belt.  I knew she'd feel pain and be
traumatized.  My obsession was that powerful that I took the
chance that she'd survive and get over it.  I prayed she would
not be scared physically or mentally.  I kept telling myself,
"He's not the dangerous kind."
     Nervous anxiety spoiled that first night for me.  I agonized
over my decision, cursed my vagina.  Putting in the full shift
was pure hell.  I must have called twenty times to see if
everything was all right.  It seemed so, judging by his voice.  I
talked to Tiffany three times, and her voice sounded normal. 
Still, as I drove home, I had terrible guilt anxiety.  I opened
my apartment, expecting a scene out of Dante's Inferno. 
Everything was just as I'd left it.  Frank had passed out
watching TV.  I swiftly went to Tiffany's room.  She was in bed,
sleeping soundly.  Deeply puzzled and more than a little
disappointed, I wanted at least something to show for my gamble.
     I flipped on her light.  She was curled in a fetal ball,
sleeping soundly.  She sleeps like soundly, so I pulled her
covers off.  She sleeps in a man's T-shirt, so it was easy to
unveil her lower body.  I looked for strap marks on her legs and
buttocks, but saw nothing.  I peered between her thighs from the
back.  Her pussy did look a little raw.  My heart jumped.  I
eased her onto her back and carefully spread out her legs.  She
laid there like a lab frog.  My heart pounded wildly.  She had
been fucked, and fucked good.  Her pussy was not only raw, it was
yawning.  That tiny cunt, which had been drum-tight, looked open
and loose.  Her hole was like a tunnel.  I looked lower, to her
asshole, and it to was swollen, puffed out, and raw.  I was so
excited, I fingered myself while staring into her crotch.  
     I noticed tiny bright red marks lining both lips.  I
examined them closely and saw a pattern.  These were marks made
by alligator style clips.  I pushed her shirt up over her breasts
and saw the same marks all over them, especially on and around
her nipples.  I examined her body closely and discovered a slight
red discoloration on her wrists, ankles, and knees.  It was the
kind bindings might leave.  My mind filled in the rest and my
pussy was overjoyed.  Other than that, Tiffany looked fine,
peaceful, and content.  She appeared on the verge of a smile; in
fact, the kind of look a child gets dreaming of candyland.  I
restored her clothing, covered her, backed out, and turned out
the light.
     I shook Frank's shoulder.  He awoke with a start.  He held
up his arms as though shielding himself from my attack.  I said,
"Hey!  It's all right.  It's just me, remember?"
     "He looked around nervously, probably looking for police. 
He said, "Is it two?"
     "About two fifteen, yes.  How was my daughter?  Was she
good?"
     "Huh?"
     "You know, was she a good girl?"
     "Oh, yeah, yeah, she was good."
     He stood groggily.  I walked him to the door.  I said, "I'm
sorry I phoned so often.  It's a habit I got into.  Usually I
found myself dialing and then realized that she wasn't alone.  I
hope I didn't give the impression I was worried."
     "No, call all you want.  I got nothing to hide."
     "I didn't think you did.  I trust you completely; otherwise,
I never would have left you alone with my virgin daughter."
     His eyes squinted trying to read my meaning.  I simply
smiled, holding the door for him.  He was half out, then, in a
panic, turned suddenly and dipped under my arm, saying, "I forgot
my stuff."
     His stuff was a brown grocery bag sitting by the couch, a
bag he didn't come in with.  He was in such a panic, he grabbed
one lip, pulled, ripped it off, and spilled the contents at my
feet.  He dove on the assortment of ropes, dildoes, clothes pins,
and cuffs.  I stood there rolling my eyes, shaking my head.  I
wondered how I could pretend not to see.  A goddamn plastic
vibrator actually hit me on the ankle and rested between my feet.
Alligator clips were all over my entryway.  I turned my back to
him and busied myself picking up clips, giving him the
opportunity to recover the tools of his trade.  I had squatted
right over the vibrator.  I watched with amused interest as his
hand crept up to retrieve it.  As soon as he touched it, the damn
thing sprang to life, stuttering on the hard ceramic tile.  He
jerked his hand away as if shocked by it, then made another
frantic grab.  The hum stopped and he stuffed it in the bag.  I
just shook my head and kept picking up clips.  I had to drag it
out long enough for him to get everything safely hidden away. 
While I waited, I tested the strength of a clip on my wrist.  It
hurt.  It hurt bad.  Thinking about having one on my clit made me
wince.  Tiffany had the marks of three on hers.
     When the frantic noise stopped, I stood and turned slowly. 
He was just picking up the last of the clips.  I offered my
collection to him.  He looked into my face with guilt-ridden,
terror-stricken eyes.  I had to say something to put his mind at
ease.  I thought quickly and said, "Are you working on some kind
of model.  Is that your hobby?"
     "Huh, yeah, it's a model.  It's a hobby that's all."
     "I saw ropes and heard some kind of motor.  Is it a ship of
some kind?"
     "Yeah!  You guessed it.  It's one of them old sailing ships
with lots of rope and stuff you have to clip on."
     "Like the Mayflower with a motor, right." 
     "Huh?  Oh yeah, right.  Well it's not that old.  It's a new
old ship, sorta."
     Before he dug himself any deeper, I said, "Well, at least
you have something to keep you busy when you're looking after my
daughter.  I wouldn't want you to get bored."
     He smiled and departed.  
     I anxiously awaited the morning.  I woke Tiffany thirty
minutes early, calling her to breakfast.  She was very stiff and
achy.  I helped her to the table and waited for her to speak out.

She sat quietly, watching me work.  I set her breakfast before
her and sat down with coffee.  I said, "Did you sleep well,
dear?"
     "Not really.  I didn't get to bed until after one-thirty."
     "On a school night.  You know better than that."
     "It wasn't my fault.  He kept me up."
     "Why?"
     She sat quietly for a few seconds, then unconvincingly said,
"No reason.  Company I guess."
     "Was he a good sitter?"
     "No, he's a terrible sitter."
     "I think you're exaggerating.  A terrible sitter is one that
beats you.  He didn't beat you, did he?"
     She hung her head, toying with the food on her plate.  She
said, "No."
     "Well you better get used to him, because I'm not leaving
you alone at night."
     She looked up and said, "Please, I can take care of myself."
     "That may be, but with an adult willing to keep you company
for free, I'd be a fool to leave you alone."  She said no more.
     This went on for a full week.  Frank was very careless.  He
left evidence everywhere.  Once, there were Tiffany's panties on
the floor by the couch in plain sight.  Twice, he left dildoes
lying around.  My trash had empty film boxes lying on top.  I
found three different types of cigarette butts, though neither I
nor Frank smokes.  Far from alarming me, I got off on the idea of
Tiffany getting gang banged.  I pulled into the parking area one
night and watched from my car as four men exited my apartment. 
That's cutting it close.  After that, I waited an extra five
minutes before going up each night.  I examined Tiffany's body
every night and discovered new insults.  They'd shaved her pubic
hair off and she sported welts like from a belt or thin cane all
over her tits, ass, inner thighs and belly.  Some of their damage
showed below her hem line, and she can't wear pants to school. 
In addition, her sheets had to be changed daily.  She slept in a
puddle of cum that leaked from her ass and cunt all night.  I
figured Tiffany had to know that I was aware of all this, but she
never confronted me or complained.  I pretended not to notice a
thing.   
     Overall, I liked the arrangement and decided it was time to
drop a few hints to Frank to make him aware that he wasn't
dealing with your ordinary mom.  The first hint was a big one.  I
arranged to go to work an hour later than usual, but left on
time.  I purposefully left my purse behind.  I waited thirty
minutes after leaving, then quietly went upstairs and let myself
in.  I was not prepared for the sight that greeted me.  There was
Tiffany, kneeling on two widely separated chairs.  She was naked,
facing away from me.  Each ankle was tied to an outside chair
leg.  Her head was almost touching the floor while her hands were
twisted back behind her, straight, and tied at the wrists to the
top inside of each chair.  Frank was tieing her hair to a broom
stick tied across the backs of both chairs at the floor.
     I could never have imagined a more vulnerable pose to place
a girl in.  I could see that her pussy was at just the right
height for Frank's loins.  Frank rose and appeared ready to bolt
past me and probably never stop running.  I knew I had to think
of something quick.  I said, "Oh, I'm so sorry.  I should have
knocked first."
     That froze him in place and put an extremely puzzled look on
his face.  I stepped in and closed the door.  I said as earnestly
as I could, "I'm so embarrassed.  I know you must think I'm
checking on you, but honestly, I left my purse.  I got half way
there and realized it."
     He obviously could not believe his ears.  His weak mind
strained to grasp what was happening.  I realized just how dim-
witted he was.  Any normal person would have figured out by then
that I was being facetious.  I could tell that he thought I was
serious, or incredibly naive.  I was curious as to how far I
could take it.  I said, "You aren't angry are you; I really did
leave my purse."  He shook his head in mute wonder.  
     I breathed a sigh of relief and walked past him, going to my
bedroom.  I got the purse and returned.  He was still standing at
her head, watching me move through.  I went to the refrigerator,
opened a soda, turned and said, "I just have time for this."  I
took a few sips while studying my daughter, showing my puzzled
look.  I said, "I promised I wouldn't interfere, and believe me
I'm not.  I mean, I'm sure she must have done something bad to
deserve this.  And it's none of my business what she did.  I told
you that you decide when, why, and how to discipline.  I'm not
even going to ask what she did.  That's your business.  I'm just
curious.  I've never heard of this position for spanking."
     I've had hound dogs give me more intelligent looks.  He
thought for a few seconds, then said, "I read about it in a book
about raising kids.  It was written by doctors.  A bunch of them
together wrote it."
     "Wow, I guess it must work good.  I sure have noticed a
change in Tiffany."
     "Yeah, they say with girls you have to do it this way in
case they might be pregnant."
     "Yes, that makes sense."
     "You're not mad because she's naked?  The book said..."
     I waved it off, saying, "Even I know you have to spank girls
naked, Frank.  You must think I'm really dumb."
     He smiled and came around to look over his creation with me.
He wasn't satisfied with leaving well enough alone, and I wasn't
sure I could keep acting this dumb.  He said, "Yeah, I have
friends in this business.  They've taught me a lot over the
years.  Another thing you don't do with girls is use your hand. 
A lot of people don't know that.  You have to use one of these
special rods."  He picked up a three foot fiberglass fishing pole
rod tip and handed it to me.  It still had string wrapping where
the eyelets were.  I studied it and said, "Wow, a real rod." 
     "Yeah, that's what they look like, expensive too.  That's
three hundred dollars you're holding in your hand.  That's what
makes those marks you see on her.  She sees and feels those for
days after and it reminds her to be good."
     "Well, it must be working."  I stepped up and knelt my right
knee outside Tiffany's right knee.  I leaned over her haunches
and peered into the valley of her sex.  My fingers traced the
many marks found there.  His favorite target was the insides of
her thighs and her entire pussy.  
     My action excited Frank, making him bold.  He came up on her
left side and said, "That's the best place to punish a girl,
right on her cunt...I mean vergina."
     "Please, cunt is just fine with me.  Don't go using all
those doctor terms.  I won't know what you're talking about."
     He grinned and said, "That's where this special rod comes
in.  You see this."  He reached out and plucked Tiffany's clit
from between her cunt lips, pinched it between thumb and fore
finger and shook it.  "This here is called the clit.  They've
proved scientifically that this is connected to the part of the
brain that makes girls do bad sex things."
     I couldn't argue that.  I was beginning to enjoy his
lecture.  I said, "I knew that much."
     "Yeah, well I bet you didn't know that to stop a girl from
becoming a whore, you have to hit her on the clit."
     "That explains it then.  Nobody ever hit me on the clit when
I was a girl.  I call it my fuck button.  If a guy touches it, my
legs spring open."
     "Now you know why."
     "Has Tiffany been bad enough to get it on her clit?"
     "Yes, I'm afraid so."
     "Oh my.  I wouldn't want to be in her shoes."
     "I have to put her in a special position for a clit
whipping.  I make her bend backwards sideways across a chair with
two pillows on it.  I tie her ankles to the legs and her hands to
her ankles."
     "Oh Jesus!"
     "Then I stand over her chest and come down right in her
slit."
     "Ouch!"
     "Yeah.  I have to gag her for that."
     "You'll have to show me how that's done sometime, but I have
to get going."  Impulsively, I leaned forward and kissed the clit
he'd just released.  I gave it a hard sucking kiss.  I pulled
off, making a popping sound and said, "I won't be around to kiss
it and make it better afterwards, so that'll have to do.  I'll
come see you tonight and make it feel better.  You're up against
professionals now, Tiffany.  You better learn to behave."
     I stood and addressed Frank.  He had an amused smirk on his
face.  I said, "I'm so thankful you took an interest in my
Tiffany.  Are you sure I can't pay you for your services?"
     The look on his face was priceless.  I could read his
thoughts.  He was thinking, "You dumb cunt-sucking whore."  He
said, "No, I just want to help."
     I said, "This is so generous.  There must be some way I can
repay you."
     He smiled a devilish smile, thought a second, and said, "It
ain't easy for a red-blooded American man to be around a naked
girl like Tiffany and have to mess with her cunt and all."
     I looked down at the obvious erection in his pants, an
erection he was thrusting towards me obscenely.  I knew he was
hinting that I should take care of this need.  And I was tempted.
Although I personally find him repulsive, he did have a
respectable bulge.  I said, "Hummm, yes.  I can see your
problem."  I glanced from his bulge to Tiffany's crotch and back
several times then said in a quiet, conspiratorial voice, "I
understand completely.  Look, I wrote you a letter authorizing
you to do anything.  Why don't you take that literally and hold
me to it.  I certainly can't go to the police even if I wanted
to, which I never would.  Would that make things easier for you?"
     He grinned, a little disappointed, but pleased with the
Carte Blanc I handed him.  He said, "I'm going to hold you to
that,"
     I gathered my things and made for the door, pausing on my
way out to say with a sexy, mischievous smile, "I fully expected
you to when I wrote it."  I sauntered out the door, throwing an
exaggerated swing to my hips, and departed.  I went down those
steps on wobbly knees and masturbated all the way to work.
     When I walked in on them after work, Tiffany was still
up, very much up.  He had installed an eyebolt in my dining room
ceiling.  Tiffany hung by her wrists, suspended from that bolt. 
Her toes barely touched the floor.  Semen streaked both legs and
puddled at her feet.  No one man could have deposited such a load
in a week.  Frank was sitting next to her at the dining table,
drinking a beer.  
     He had a chair positioned for me opposit his, with Tiffany
hanging between us.  I stood looking at my daughter then took the
seat.  I had to peer around her to address him.  I took the time
to run my eyes up and down her legs, pausing to watch a thick
drool of pearly cum slither from her cunt lips and cascade down
her inner thigh. My face was down near her loins and I merely
lifted my eyes to address him.  I said, "I assumed you would have
her relieve you with her hands, or maybe even her mouth, but I
see you took me literally."
     "I did take you literary."
     I said, "You make it hard to ignore.  I was sort of hoping I
could pretend not to notice."
     "That's your problem, not mine.  I'm just holding you to
your word."
     "Well, the damage is done, and the cat's out of the bag now.
If this is what you want as payment for your services, I suppose
it's a fair price to pay."  To add further emphasis, I stood and
took Tiffany's chin in my hand and said, "You heard what I told
Mr. Zimmerman.  You're going to pay for your own education from
now on, and I expect you to offer that payment willingly.  Do you
understand?"  She nodded meekly and said she would.
     After that talk, I often came home and found Frank in mid
fuck, in a position set up just to shock me.  He discovered that
I was not shockable.  Typically, I'd pull up a chair at the
juncture of their loins and run my hands over Tiffany's body,
paying particular attention to her stuffed pussy.  I'd call her
filthy names and urge Frank on.  I'd toy with the mess after he
pulled out, and scoop the running trails of cum on my fingers and
stuff them back in her cunt.  Frank loved watching me do this.
     As I stuffed her pussy with his cum, I informed him that she
wasn't on the pill and that I had no intention of putting her on.
Frank said, "You're going to get her knocked up if you keep doing
that."
     As if what he was doing wouldn't.  I smiled, stuffed more
cum in her twat, and said, "That would be her tough luck,
wouldn't it?"
     That brought a big smile to his evil face.  If you don't
feel sorry for my poor darling daughter by now, then you are a
very sick individual.  Don't feel too sorry for her.  By this
time it was quite obvious that Tiffany was a dyed-in-the-wool
masochist.  I have seen her cum while getting her clit whipped. 
She simply adores getting fucked in any hole.  And the idea of
getting knocked up thrilled her.  She was actually looking
forward to waddling around her school with a huge puffed out
belly.  She'd dress up in her school clothes and stuff a pillow
under her skirt.  I bought her several junior miss maternity
dresses just for that purpose.
     She is also quite aware of my perverse voyeuristic
tendencies.  She panders to my obsession by recounting her
torments in vivid detail while masturbating me with her fingers
and a dildoe variety pack.  After bringing me to three or four
mind-numbing climaxes, she dutifully settles between my legs and
sucks me to several more.
     If I feel horny during the day, all I needed to do was walk
up to Tiffany and lift my skirt.  She'd go to her knees and glue
her mouth to my cunt.  My lovers also benefited from all this. 
Instead of just having her strip.  I'd make her suck dick, eat
pussy, and fuck.  Truth is, I'd much rather watch them vent their
sexual urges on her, while I looked on and masturbated.  As a
consequence, I had many more lovers, male and female.  They
usually show shock at the condition of her body, but once those
pretty lips slide over a stiff cock, or her pink tongue draws
through a wide open twat, their morality goes right out the
window.
     After a month or so, I began fantasizing a prolonged period
of indenture to Frank.  Summer was coming on, and I pictured
myself surrendering her over to sexual slavery for the entire
summer.  Frank had by this time gathered quite a following of
degenerates.  I often walked in on scenes out of Dante's Inferno.
My presence, far from inhibiting them, only drove them to greater
excess.  I played the part of a mother helplessly trapped.  I'd
sit demurely in my dining chair, pretending to look on in horror.
Often, they'd drag my naked daughter and lay her across my lap on
her back.  The men would pound their cocks into her pussy, and
dykie old whores would straddle her head and pull her pretty face
into their cunts while pinching and slapping her pert tits.  I'd
be sitting in a puddle of my own cunt juices but making faces of
shock and remorse.  They loved my act.
     As a prelude to the summer, I concocted a little test.  I
asked him if he would look after Tiffany over a three-day weekend
at his place.  I said, "You see, I just met this great guy, and
he's really anxious to get to know me better--if you get my
drift."  A big smirk crossed his evil little face.  I said,
acting self conscious, "I want to make a good impression, it
being our first time and all.  I can't do much with Tiffany under
foot."
     "Hey, don't I know it.  You don't need Tiffany spoiling your
fun, that's for sure."
     "Then you'll do it?  I'll be right up here most of the time
if you need anything."
     "I won't need anything, and you won't need to check on us. 
If anything's wrong, I'll let you know."
     "I swear on my mother's grave.  I will not check on her even
once.  If I do, for any reason, I'll give you a hundred dollars. 
And I'm dead serious.  From three-thirty on, she's yours."
     His smile was so broad, Evil Kinevil would want to jump it
on a motorcycle.  He left a happy pervert.  I went straight to a
chair and attacked my cunt.  I had the best solo-sex ever.  
     I wasn't entirely crazy.  I could always call it off if
Tiffany was too freaked out.  When I told Tiffany of my plans,
she didn't freak.  She wasn't all that happy, either.  She
gasped, "No!  Mom, you can't, not for three whole days."
     "Yes I can.  It's all set up.  You report to his apartment
right after school tomorrow, no if's' and's' or but's'."
     I watched her reaction closely.  I told her over breakfast,
Thursday morning.  She stirred her food looking pensive but no
where near panic-stricken.  I added, "I'm sure he'll keep you
entertained."  Still no negative reaction.  She appeared to be
weighing the possibilities and finding them not altogether
unpleasant.  I was getting hotter by the second, just watching
her, imagining the images that brought that flush to her
complexion.  She looked over and smiled weakly.
     Impulsively, I said, "You know, there's no reason why you
can't skip a day of school."  She didn't object, so I added, "You
could go to him right now."  She bit her lower lip.  I took out
paper and pen and wrote: If you'd like to make this a four day
affair, Tiffany can skip school today.  If she doesn't return,
I'll assume that's okay with you.  Thanks Frank.
     I handed the note to Tiffany and pulled her seat out.  She
hadn't even finished her breakfast.  She said, "I can't go like
this."
     "I moved her towards the door with her wearing only that T-
shirt.  Her hard nipples made a dramatic impression.  She said,
"Mom, I don't even have any shoes on."
     I pushed her out into the cold early morning air, saying,
"Hurry then.  Don't stand around.  Have fun, Tiffany!"  I shut
the door, leaned against it, took a deep breath, and stilled my
beating heart.  I then went to the curtain and peeked out.  I saw
Tiffany trot across the inclosure and up to his door.  She looked
adorable in that T-shirt, obviously naked beneath it.  She
knocked on the door and danced in place, hugging herself from the
chill air.  She knocked again.  The door cracked open.  Frank
looked plesantly surprised to see her.  He stuck his head out,
looked left, then right.  He glanced up to my window.  I eased
back in shadow.  He reached out and drew her inside.  The door
quickly shut.  
     I did not see Tiffany until early Monday morning.  I spent
hours posted at my window watching the army of the damned troop
in and out of Frank's apartment.  They left with big smiles.  I
was anxiously stationed by the window from first light on Monday.
She emerged shortly after the hour she was sent down four days
earlier.  There was no trot to her step, though the morning was
colder and windier.  I saw a dozen people exit Frank's apartment
as though leaving the scene of a crime.  Tiffany appeared to have
just taken a shower.  She looked like a wet rat or a contestant
in a Miss Teen wet T-shirt contest.  She minced stiffly across
the enclosure, taking forever to climb the stairs.  I waited at
the table, casually sipping coffee.  The door creaked open. 
Tiffany shuffled in.  She shuffled to the table, shivering.  She
looked like she'd been through the mill.  She looked to have aged
by years.  Her T-shirt clung like a second skin except over her
tits and crotch.  There it was grossly pushed out as though
smuggling cactus.  
     When she got closer, she reeked of urine and I winced. 
She'd had a shower, all right, a golden shower.  She stood at my
feet and gingerly pulled the T-shirt up, saying, Mom, look what
they did to me."
     I gasped.  My eyes could not believe what they saw as her T-
shirt came off.  She posed with her arms and legs out wide.  Her
tits and crotch were covered in the nasty clips.  She had gold
rings inserted through both nipples, three in her clit and
several down both labia lips.  They had tattooed her pussy with
the word, 'Whore'.  It covered her entire mound and was richly
flourished and in color.  They also tattooed both tits with the
lewd image of a burly man's hands, appearing to be reaching from
behind.  The fingers molded over her breasts with the finger and
thumb pinching the nipples.  The arms even had black hairs
tattooed and male type tattoos on the arms.  I was truly shocked.
I was mortified, in fact.  My clit did not jump for joy this
time.  My heart went out to her, and I gingerly began removing
those god-awful clips.  This pained her as much as the
application.  We were both crying before it was done.
     Afterwards, she turned to show me her ass cheeks.  More
tattoos.  On her left cheek it read: FUCK MY ASSHOLE.  On the
right it read: SPERM BANK   NIGHT DEPOSIT IN THE REAR.  Both
tattoos covered her entire ass, and like the one in front, were
richly flourished.  She bent and gingerly pulled her cheeks apart
to reveal yet another ring inserted between her pussy and
asshole.
     She stood, turned, and waited for me to speak.  I simply
looked her over, shaking my head.  I knew she was ruined for
life.  I could get the rings removed, and knew that tattoos can
be removed by skin grafting, but not without scaring.  There was
simply too much there.  Because of my obsession, my daughter
would spend the rest of her life as a circus freak and forced to
associate with the dregs of society.  I wanted to kill myself.  I
couldn't speak.
     After a long silence passed between us, she said, "Mom, they
made me drink their piss.  I had to drink it right from their
cocks and pussies."
     I said with a pained expression, "Oh, honey, no!"
     "They gave me nothing to drink that whole time, only piss. 
They drank lots of beer the whole time.  They'd fill me up until
I was about to burst.  I'd go to the toilet and have to stick my
finger down my throat.  I'd come out and they'd start right away,
filling me up again.  Nobody used the toilet all that time.  I
was their toilet,"
     She related this in the same tone and expression she used
when trying to turn me on.  And it was working, too.  My cunt
started juicing up instantly.  To indicate that I wanted to hear
more, I said, "I'll bet you made a good one."
     She smiled and said, "I am a good toilet.  You don't even
have to flush me."  I marveled at her behavior.  She was
obviously turned on.  She knelt at my feet and folded back my
skirt.  She splayed my legs as I scooted to the edge and leaned
back.  She approached my cunt, saying, "I want to be your toilet,
Mommy."  Her mouth fastened to my piss hole and she sucked hard,
looking up at me with hopeful expectation.
     I could not believe my daughter.  She actually expected me
to piss in her mouth.  My bladder was full, and the idea grew and
grew.  I finally relaxed my bladder and swooned as I felt the
rush of urine flow into her feverishly sucking mouth.  She sucked
and swallowed as fast as I could piss.  Half-way through, I cut
the flow to prolong the experience.  I fed her in squirts.  Each
time she got a fresh squirt, she moaned her delight.  When at
last the end had come, so had I.  I looked into my crotch at my
daughter lovingly kissing my pussy and tenderly, reverently
stroking it.  She peered up with dreamy eyes and said, "I love
being your toilet, Mommy.  Don't ever waste your pee in the
toilet again.  Let me be your personal toilet, okay."
     I said, "Honey, you have yourself a deal."
     She stood up and modeled her tattoos, saying, "How do you
like my tattoos?"
     I said, "They're beautiful.  They did a very professional
job."
     "Yeah, the guy that did it is a tattoo artist.  He says he's
going to plaster my body from my knees to my shoulders with his
art work.  Won't that be something."
     "Yes, that will be something all right."
     "I'm going to be famous--the tattooed whore.  They took lots
of pictures and movies.  Isn't that exciting?"
     "Yes, very.  I'm happy for you."  In fact, I was happy for
her.  She accepted the only future available to her, accepted it
openly.  That took a great weight off my shoulders.
     The phone rang just then.  It was Frank.  His voice
reflected a change in his attitude.  He said, "How do you like
what we did to your little whore?"
     I said, "I thought you were going to prevent her from
becoming a whore."
     "Cut the crap, bitch.  If you're thinking of going to the
cops, you go to jail with us.   I have lots of witnesses that
you were a part of this.  By the way, we ran one of those
pregnancy tests on her.  Guess what?  She's going to be a mommy."
     "I'm not surprised, and I have no intention of going to the
police."
     "You're a smart whore yourself.  Look, from now on, you and
your little slut are my property.  Your cunts belong to me.  Get
rid of your uppity friends.  I decide who and what goes in your
cunt from now on."
     Oddly, the way he talked to me had my twat on fire.  The
idea of being in Tiffany's position, however, left me cold.  I
said, "Look, you win.  You have me over a barrel.  I'll go along
to a point.  I surrender my daughter to you.  In fact, I'll sign
papers making you her legal guardian.  She'll move in with you if
you wish.  I will not be used like her, nor will I tolerate being
hurt by you or anyone else.  I'll move far away and go into
hiding with Tiffany first."
     "Sweeten the deal."
     "Okay, I'll whore for you, but I still control my own cunt."
     "Sweeten it more."
     "All right, I'll perform with her to amuse your friends."
     "Sweeten it more."
     "I'll pose for your pictures."
     "All right.  You drive a hard bargain, but I can live with
that.  You sign those papers like you said, but I ain't raising
your brat.  As long as I'm here and you're there, I say leave
things like they are.  I do want a key to your apartment, though.
I need access too my whores."
     "I'll leave the door unlocked until I can get some keys
made."
     "You do that.  You two keep each other's cunts shaved and
get dolled up real pretty.  We're having us a party tonight.  I
want you two to put on a real sexy mother/daughter love scene.  I
want lots of kissing and lots of pussy sucking."
     "I'll do my best.  Is there anything else?"
     "Yeah, drink lots of water.  I'm sure Tiffany will get
thirsty, especially during the love scene."
     "I'll be sure to have plenty for her to drink.  When should
we expect you?"
     "Be ready at six."
     The phone went dead.  I turned to Tiffany and said, "Well,
you heard that.  It looks like you have a new guardian."
     "Oh, Mom.  Does that mean I have to live with him?"
     "No, you'll live with me, but I won't have any legal say
over you.  Frank will be in charge."
     "I guess that makes me his sex slave, huh?"
     "Yes, I suppose it does.  How do you feel about that?"
     "I am anyway.  I'm okay.  How do you feel about it?"
     "Trapped.  It's my own fault, though.  I deserve this.  I'll
just have to live with it.  Come on, lets get you cleaned up.  We
have a show to do tonight."
     
     Thus began my bizarre adventure.  I became Franks whore,
Tiffany his slave.  We ran off six months later after Frank
almost killed her.  In fact, he caused the baby to miscarry.  She
is festered with lewd tattoos.  She's no longer in school.  I
teach her at home.  She never goes out.  I plan to take care of
her for the rest of my life, but that's as it should be.  We are
quite happy together.  I met a nice man that accepts my story of
how Tiffany got abducted, raped, and tattooed.  He proposed
marriage to me.  He recently asked to see Tiffany's tattoos.
     I brought her before him as he sat on the sofa.  Tiffany
looked the part of a shy, trembling teenager.  She blushed
beautifully as I began to slowly, and teasingly removing her
clothes.  I watched Jim's crotch grow as item by item fell away. 
She still bore the rings, and keeps her pussy shaved.  I moved
her up and had her straddle his knees with her feet widespread. 
I supported her shoulders and told her to lean back.  I was
kneeling on her left side.  She kept going back until her hands
reached the floor between her feet, no longer requiring my
support.  I brought both hands to her pussy and delicately
pointed out the rings, not that it was necessary.
     Jim sat mesmerized by the sight.  After giving him a long
look at her cunt, and seeing his positive reaction, I had her
stand, turn around, and bend far forward.  I pulled her cheeks
apart to reveal the anal ring and her pink asshole.  I then took
a seat beside him and freed his stiff pulsing cock.  I pumped it
and then aimed it at her cunt, just inches away.  I placed my
hand on Tiffany's lower back and indicated for her to settle
back.  I guided his cock to her hole and watched Tiffany settle
fully onto it.  I smiled and said, "When you marry me, you get
two for one."
     He smiled, reached up, and grasped her breasts.  He pulled
her back against his chest.  Tiffany, starved for a stiff cock,
began lifting her pelvis to hump his imbedded cock.  I slithered
to the floor and got between their legs.  I licked around his
cock and her wildly humping cunt.  Jim was in ecstasy.  When he
came, I licked that too.  When he pulled out, I licked her cunt.
     We got a bigger bed with room for three.  Jim no longer
fucks me, he fucks Tiffany.  I wouldn't want it any other way.