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Subject: {ASSM} PETE and CINDY (M/g Inc 4/4) PART FOUR
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Date: Mon,  9 Feb 2004 16:10:05 -0500
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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.

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