Message-ID: <46558asstr$1076361005@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: "gm" MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-Original-Message-ID: X-Authenticated-Sender: gm@mrdouble.com X-Spam-Processed: mrdouble.com, Mon, 09 Feb 2004 08:39:23 -0500 (not processed: message from valid local sender) X-Return-Path: gm@mrdouble.com X-MDaemon-Deliver-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 09 Feb 2004 08:39:22 -0500 Subject: {ASSM} PETE and CINDY (M/g Inc 4/4) PART FOUR Lines: 376 Date: Mon, 9 Feb 2004 16:10:05 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: hoisingr, dennyw The following story depicts explicit sexual contact between adult and under aged participants. Those offended by graphic descriptions of incestuous relationships should read no further. This is entirely a work of fantasy, and does not advocate the abuse of minors in any way, shape or form. All characters and events represented herein are completely fictional. PETE and CINDY PART FOUR 7. The room was almost completely dark now, the only light source being the Tiffany lamp on the dresser. The tiniest sliver of fear passed down her spine: Peter's demeanor had changed, altered subtly in the past few minutes. His expression had turned ominous, almost sinister. Worse still, he hadn't explained what he was going to do to her. Turning the covers down, he'd ordered her into the bed and stood staring down at her, smiling in a way she'd never seen before (and didn't really like). Cindy had opened her mouth to voice her concerns, but then he'd done something which had silenced her words unspoken. He'd started removing his clothes. Cindy had watched mesmerized as he shucked off his t-shirt and unbuckled the belt of his jeans. She hadn't been expecting him to get undressed - although that was what they did in the movies, so she guessed she should have anticipated that. That hazy feeling of disquiet had grown into an acute sense of foreboding, mixed up with several other complex emotions outside her limited range of experience. Foreboding had almost lapsed into panic when she saw what he had beneath his Levis. Her mother had explained that men were built differently to women, but nothing could have prepared her for the GREAT BIG THING jutting out between his thighs. She'd imagined something thin and tubular from Mommy's descriptions, not this throbbing, purple monstrosity. She'd only seen it for a moment, and the room had been mercifully dark, but that instantaneous glimpse had caused her mouth to go dry. What was it? Why was it standing up that way? What was he going to do with it? Peter's body was a lean, black silhouette looming over her, his hands strategically braced on either side of her head. Cindy watched him lower himself carefully down on top of her, he looked as if he was doing pushups in the bed. They were lying almost face to face - his GREAT BIG THING was actually touching her now, pressing into her belly. Despite her mounting trepidation, Cindy told herself she had no reason to feel uneasy. This was Petey, her beloved cousin. She'd known him nearly as long as she could remember, and in all that time, he'd never done a thing to harm her. Up to this point, everything they'd done that day had been a game (or so he'd led her to believe): the handstands in the woodlands; her coy little striptease in the bathroom; even their special cuddle on the bedspread. But all that had changed the second he'd stepped naked under the covers with her. This was no game, not any more. Maybe it never had been. Peter must have noticed her agitation, because he slipped his arms underneath her shoulders, palms cradling her head reassuringly. He shifted on top of her, making himself more comfortable, then his voice husked in her ear, low and resonant. "Remember you said you wished I was your Daddy?" "Yeah," she answered, relaxing her stomach a little. It was true: even now, she still wanted to be his little girl. Tonight and always. "Well, how would you like to be Mommy now?" "Be ... Mommy?" she asked doubtfully. What did he mean - his Mommy? "Yes, that's right. I'll be Daddy, and you'll be Mommy. Understand?" A light went on inside. "Yeah, sure," she replied, smiling, "that'd be fun." "You know what Mommies and Daddies do in bed?" "Yes - kind of." She'd already learnt quite a bit as it was. "You mean that licking thing?" "Oh, that's just the start," he told her enticingly, "there's something else men and women like to do. Want me to show you?" "Okay." She couldn't help feeling a little disappointed; she'd been secretly hoping he'd lick her out again. Well, whatever he had in mind, it would have to be a lot of fun, considering how much she'd enjoyed their kissy-cuddle game. "Good girl," he whispered, and suddenly, his GREAT BIG THING was no longer resting on her tummy. It was pushing up between her splayed thighs, its huge, pulsing head resting against her Kitty. Cindy's mouth flopped open in surprise; her eyes widened to twice their normal size. A cold finger stroked her heart. He was scaring her now. She tried to push herself out from underneath him, but he had her pinned down onto the mattress. "Petey ..." she gasped in a small, frightened voice, "what are you ...?" Peter said nothing. The fear behind her words only excited him all the more. Everything about her seemed to excite him: the scent of her warm, yielding flesh; the desperate, flittering motions of her hands. He levered himself forward on the bed, reveling in her helpless struggles, her stammering pleas. His penis was hammering on her vestibule, twitching upwards in its eagerness. He reached down with one hand to guide himself in, imagining how tight and wet she would feel. Cindy was sobbing with child-like terror. She knew. Somehow, she knew. (no, petey, no, please don't, it'll hurt ...) Oh, yes, it was going to hurt, probably more than anything she'd ever known, but that couldn't be helped. At any rate, he was going to enjoy himself, and that was the only thing that mattered right now. He was going to have her, shove his immense weapon inside her tiny, pink femme. And why in hell shouldn't he? He had every right: it was only what he deserved. He'd held off for three years, denying himself month after month by a superhuman act of will. Cindy had tempted him beyond endurance, practically begging him to rape her on the sofa some nights. Her own mother had given her tacit approval, leaving the girl to his tender mercies. Well, he'd fought his natural impulses long enough. The war was over; the conquering hero was coming home to reap his reward. Whatever the repercussions. Curling his fingers around the top of his shaft, Peter directed himself in through Cindy's tightly pursed lips. Clenching his stomach, he arched slowly upwards, closing his eyes in wordless triumph. His rod felt as hard as granite as it drove into her vagina, rupturing her delicate maidenhead in its passage. A shudder swept through her body like a passing storm; Peter barely noticed it. He was aware of nothing beyond the torrents of pleasure blasting through his overreaching manhood. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Cindy wailed like a banshee, clawing at his shoulders with both hands. It was a gesture as desperate as it was futile: she was only nine years old, incapable of inflicting so much as a scratch on his lean, muscular frame. Warm tears began to sluice down her cheeks as she realized there would be no respite from this torture. His GREAT BIG THING was ripping through her poor little Kitty, hewing and slashing like a carving knife. The pain was insufferable, indescribable. Why was he doing this to her? Had she made him angry? She must have done something terribly wrong to have earned this level of punishment. (no, don't peter, please stop, it really hurts -) Peter forced his blade the length of her sheath, then drew back for the next parry. Now that he'd burst the membrane, he could afford to indulge himself with a little rough play. Grasping the girl by the hips, he plunged in and out with increasing force. Her vulva made wet, sucking noises, lubricant jetting from the opening in hot, thick spurts. He probed as deep inside her as he could reach, straining with the effort. Endless minutes crawled past in the dark room, punctuated only by the cries and moans of a weeping child. Peter established a quick, rolling tempo, leaning into her with an exaggerated see-sawing motion. His face and neck and arms were glazed with sweat, he grunted under his breath with each wrenching penetration. Her cleft was locked around his pole, offering an astonishing degree of resistance. He had to push with all his might just to slide through her lips. It was all incredibly arousing, Pete could feel himself building up to a raging crescendo. In a couple of seconds, he'd be shivering on the very brink of climax - No. Not yet. He wanted to prolong the experience, postpone his orgasm as long as humanly possible. This was his first time with a pre-pubescent girl; it had to be an epic of Homeric proportions. As always, control was the operant factor in this scenario. He'd have to slow his rhythm, reduce his pace. Not by much of course, he had no intention of losing his momentum. Rearing back, he paused to focus his energies, then buried his javelin inside her up to the hilt. Cindy convulsed between his hands, but her whimpers had abated somewhat since his first rending incursion. She seemed to be writhing in ecstasy rather than squirming in pain. Not that Peter cared one way or the other, it made no difference to him whether she was enjoying herself. At the end of the day, this wasn't about her. None of it was. Peter extracted himself from the girl and manhandled her - none too gently - onto her belly. He wanted her face down on the pillow with her bottom raised and her lips wide open. That was how he usually took his adult partners, and he was eager to experiment on his young cousin. There would be no break, no breather, no reprieve from her ordeal. He had to get back inside her while the juices were still pumping. There was a little blood on the sheet, but he could take care of that later. He'd have to take care of a lot of things later, but everything would have to wait until he'd finished. Meantime, Cindy lay passively on the bed, sobbing to herself in open shame. Her head was still reeling from hurt and grief. An hour ago, she'd been lying nude in Petey's arms, her body trembling with bliss; now she was blubbering for clemency, praying this nightmare was finally over. This was the most vicious betrayal she'd ever suffered: Peter was the center-point of her life, the axis around which her existence revolved. How could he do this to her? What had she done to warrant such treatment? The only thing she could think of was the handstands in the park. It was the only possible explanation; why else would he be slamming his THING up her Kitty this way? That was the worst part - all this had happened because she'd shown him her panties. She'd just wanted to him to think she was as sexy; to hug her and kiss her and tell her how pretty she was. And was that really so wrong? It seemed so small and unimportant; innocent teasing, like when he tickled her feet in front of the television. Maybe it was something else. She couldn't be sure, not after everything that had happened today. Well, whatever it was, it had to be her own fault: Peter simply wouldn't punish her unless she'd done something to deserve it. She knew that much at the very least. She heard his voice above and behind her, grating like crushed glass. "Hold your fanny up, kiddo." His hands tugged at her hips, forcing her to jackknife buttocks. Cindy burst into a fresh squall of tears, guessing what he was planning to do. It was going to hurt, same as last time, but the thought of refusal never crossed her mind. He was a man, she was a little girl; what other option did she have? Poking her naked bottom into the air, she planted her hands on the mattress, bracing for the next assault. Her vagina was a red, swollen peach between her tensely splayed thighs. "No, Petey, please don't, I'm sorry I was so naughty, please don't do it again, you don't know how bad it hurts, I'll be good now, I promise I will, please Petey - " "Call me `Daddy'," Peter ordered in a gravel whisper. Kneeling over her, he spread her cheeks and pressed his ram against her labia. "NOOOOO," Cindy cried desperately, "PLEASE Daddy, don't HURT me again, PLEASE!!" Liquid diamonds streaked down her face, saturating the pillow slip below. She was quaking with guilt and fear, degraded to the core of her being. Paradoxically, her lips were dividing with anticipation, the way they had earlier on in the evening. It was as though some furtive, hidden part of her wanted to submit to his brutish lusts. Gripping her firmly around the waist, Peter lanced into her once more, eyes radiant with victory. Because it was a victory. It was a conquest, a full scale invasion. He'd claimed her, just as he'd said he would, taking possession of his property by sheer, masculine force. He took her down onto the bed, reaming her cervix as they descended. He pistoned back and forth in deep, powerful strokes, enjoying her breathless, gasping sobs. It was like sinking into some thick, viscous fluid. "No, Petey, stop it, please stop," Cindy begged, digging her nails into the pillowcase "I can't stand it any more, it hurts, please -" She had reached the final boundaries of human endurance. His GREAT BIG THING was squeezing around inside her like some wild, subterranean animal. She wailed in abject humiliation, knowing it was in there; knowing that he was enjoying this and that there was nothing she could do about it. She felt disgraced, violated, defiled. The words didn't exist in her vocabulary, but that was precisely how she felt. In some ways, it was worse than the pain. And the pain was extreme, to say the least. She could feel it blossoming through her body as he drilled his way into her belly. It was like being torn inside out, sliced open with a white-hot rail post. Peter bore down on her from above, filling the entire the length of her furrow. As he'd expected, it felt much better penetrating from behind; her vulva seemed to clench and suck with each surging thrust. This had progressed beyond even his darkest fantasies. He squeezed his hands under her chest, pinching her nipples between his questing fingertips. His teeth nibbled over her translucent earlobes, gnawed down the arcs of her shoulders. She cried, she begged, she moaned all the way through, spurring him on with every plea. His penis lodged and shifted about, disappearing right up to his pubic hair. It didn't seem possible. How could she have so much space inside her? The evening spiraled on. Cindy's brain was whirling like a Technicolor carousel. How long had she been lying here, weeping into her pillow? Hours? Days? Weeks? He just kept PUSHING and PUSHING and PUSHING into her with his iron bar, battering away like a sledge hammer. When was it going to end? What was he going to do to her next? What could he do to her next? And, as if in answer to her unspoken query, Pete was down beside her, his lips buzzing in her ear. His tone was low, crass, demeaning. Cindy's heartbeat faltered. He didn't sound like her cousin any more. He sounded like some venomous, menacing stranger. "Call me `Daddy'," he instructed, tugging hard on her nipples. Cindy obeyed without complaint, praying this would satisfy him. "Please Daddy, please stop, no more, I'm sorry Daddy, please don't hurt me -" "Say: `Fuck me Daddy'." Cindy hesitated, processing the command. She wasn't allowed to say words like that. "Fuh-fuck me Daddy," she whispered, trying to muffle her words. "No, like this: `FUCK me Daddy, FUCK me REAL HARD'." "Peter -" "SAY it." Two seconds' silence. Three. She didn't want to say the F-word, she knew it was wrong, horribly wrong. But she had to say it. Peter was getting angry. "FUCK me DADDY," she wept, face burning with shame, "FUCK me REALLY HARD." "Say it again: `FUCK me DADDY, please FUCK me'." "Fuck me Daddy, please f-fuck me -" "LOUDER. Say it LOUDER." "F-FUCK ME DADDY, P-PLEASE FUCK ME REALLY HARD." "AGAIN." "FUCK ME REAL HARD, DADDY, PLEASE FUCK ME REAL HARD," she almost screamed, terrified by the fury in his voice. She couldn't understand why he was doing this, why he was making her say such ugly, filthy things. It made her feel dirty and sweaty and worthless. Worse still, his GREAT BIG THING was getting harder, gouging out a ravine in her tummy. Something was happening to him; his whole body was tensing up like a giant bow. Peter was approaching critical mass. The chain reaction was spreading throughout his muscular frame, thundering up his colossal manhood. Welding his stomach to her back, he drove his spike in as far as it would go, shoving with all his strength. Teeth bared and eyes fused shut, he struggled to hold the final moment, to stretch it out to infinity. Fission was reached. Peter unleashed himself into the girl, exploding into climax. The orgasm erupted through his system like a supernova, slamming along his shaft in seismic waves. The bed-frame cantered beneath them, crashing against the wall. Peter rode her into the mattress, bracing his feet against the bed-frame and ramming forward with his hips. Cindy's ear-splitting shrieks went unheard; his mind had been transported to some higher plateau of carnal delight. Nothing could have touched him at that point. It was a revelation, an epiphany. It seemed to go on forever. When the tremors finally began to trail off, Peter held his weapon inside her for another minute longer, milking the last drop of ecstasy from his cousin's spasming klimpt. It took a good ten minutes for his erection to subside. The memory of that ground-shaking climax caused him to twitch with pleasure. This was the defining event of his masculinity; none of his former girlfriends had ever aroused him this much, not even during in the frenzied, feverish years of his adolescence. Cautiously disengaging himself, Peter rolled onto his back, listening to Cindy's exhausted breathing. She was lying on her side, facing away from him, knees drawn up to her chest. He'd been very lucky; she hadn't suffered any major injuries, despite the strenuous workout she'd endured. She'd lost a little blood when he'd perforated her hymen, but hardly as much as a common nosebleed. Apart from that, she was perfectly fine. Physically, at least. In a few minutes, he'd have to start reassuring her. He'd lost her trust, or at least some portion of it, and he'd need to work hard at reestablishing the bond they'd shared since her earliest years. He couldn't afford to lose his influence over her; couldn't afford to lose access to his nubile, young sextoy. It shouldn't be too difficult regaining her confidence -he was the most important thing in her world outside of her mother. And let's face it: her mother was rapidly becoming an offstage presence in her life. No wonder Cindy was so affectionate, so loving and forgiving. She was starved for attention; for warmth and understanding. He reached across the bed, folding her in his arms and cuddling her to his chest - precisely the way he did when they snuggled on the sofa downstairs. Cindy put up no resistance; she didn't want to get him angry again. She nestled her head on his shoulder, grateful for the gentle touch of his hands, the lazy twist of his smile. He loved her again. She still didn't understand what she'd done to make him so cross, but it didn't matter now. Just as long as he loved her. "Please don't hurt me again, Petey," she whispered, eyes brimming over once more, "I promise I'll be good now." He kissed her fondly on the forehead. "I know you will," he answered, drawing up the quilt to cover her nudity. He nodded his approval, stroking her cheek with his right hand. She was going to be good, all right. There was no question of that whatsoever. THE END Email me for the complete version. gm@mrdouble.com Gaius Marius, 9 Feb 2004. ----------- All emails sent to this mrdouble.com domain that contain any file attachment type other than "txt" or "zip" will be deleted. That means if you reply to this message using "html format" or with a "jpg" or image file, or any other file type other than "plain text", "txt" or "zip", the entire email will be deleted and your message will not be delivered to this domain. This is intended to prevent abuse, spam, and viruses. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+