AnonyMPC here, still alive, with another Phil Phantom Tribute. For those who aren't familiar with these, my Phil Phantom Tributes are my attempt to honor, capture the style of and deal with themes by a prolific erotic author of days gone by. It's low characterization, high smut, and fast-paced, not much like my previous work but, hopefully, good for a good quick fap.
You ever heard that old joke, about the girl who climbs trees? Every day she comes home with money and her mother gets curious, and the girl proudly tells her mom that the boys always bet her a dollar that she can't climb a certain tree, and she always proves them wrong. Her more world-savvy mother fills her in on the little secret... the boys don't really care if she can climb the tree, they just want to look up her dress and see her panties.
The girl's shocked, and the mother thinks that's the end of it, until the next day when she shows up with a fistful of bills again, and the mom asks about it, and the girl proudly talks about the boys betting she couldn't climb the tree. "Oh, dear, don't you remember what I told you yesterday? They just want to see your underwear!"
"I know, Mom, but that's why I fooled them... this time, I didn't wear any!"
That joke was around when I was a kid, and probably when my parents were kids, too. So the joke couldn't really be about my little Katie... but it might as well have been, because that's just the kind of girl she's always been... unaware about the underlying sexual motivations of people, and just plain gullible as all get out.
Now, I admit I had fun taking advantage of this when she was young and innocent, by tricking her into believing things. Innocent things, of course, but silly. I guess every parent enjoys that a bit, after all, we have things like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. I used to have loads of laughs telling Katie, say, there was a Bigfoot living in the woods outside of town, and watching her stare out the window every time we drove past, trying to see him. Or that we bought her at WalMart (I photoshopped a receipt and everything), or that if she swam in the creek nude she might turn into a mermaid, or any number of other stories that crossed my mind. I once drew an X in a sandpit and then 'found' it with her, and told her it meant pirates buried treasure there. Little Katie dug for a whole afternoon! I even tried that really old one about gullible not being in the dictionary... little Katie fell for it for the minute or two it took to look up. She was trusting, not completely dumb... she'd usually figure it out she was tricked, but far too late, long after she'd made a fool of herself, and if I was the one who tricked her, sometimes she would come up to me with an adorable pout and inform me that it wasn't really true, like she now knew it was bull, but she still wanted to believe that I didn't know it was bull.
I wasn't the only one who would fool little Katie. My wife Judith played these kinds of games too, but hers were longer and subtler, and she rarely gave in and admitted it was a joke, she'd leave it to me... she always used to tell Katie I wasn't her real dad, it was a UPS guy who showed up at the right time. Another time Judith got sick of taking Katie to play mini-golf, so she made up a story that she and her gay friend Darius got banned for life from the course, supposedly because they got into a fight with a group of guys over who got to use which hole and made so much noise that the old lady who ran the place came out and screamed at them. Since then, I had to be the one to take Katie to play, because my wife wouldn't admit she made the story up. Let's see... what else... oh, for all of fifth grade she insisted she used to date Katie's teacher, and that's why my daughter got good marks... even though the young man couldn't have been any older than 10 when Judith and I got married. Anyway, my wife's pranks weren't as wild or imaginative as mine, but she kept a straight face longer than I could (I have to admit her poker face on the 'UPS Guy' story did a number on me, too.... I even secretly got a paternity test. Waste of money, but at least I can be certain that Katie is my daughter and my wife is loyal as the day is long.). I'm sure most parents would agree... it's just fun to get your kids to believe something stupid and outrageous.
It's not so fun when they get a little older and they're still so gullible you worry they're not going to be able to survive in the world. Katie falling for everything at age seven or eight was hilarious. When she started nearing puberty... well, it was still often hilarious, but it started becoming more and more a problem. The kid just never seemed to learn the virtue of skepticism.
You'd think she'd have learned, that time when she was ten years old and her friend tricked her into believing that the next Monday was Bikini Day, and she boarded the bus wearing nothing but three yellow triangles of fabric held together by string. It was modeled after one of Judith's... my wife said Katie begged for one that matched her mommy's, and she couldn't resist, even though it would be considered an pretty skimpy swimsuit on an adult. On a girl Katie's age, the design looked practically obscene, especially from the rear with just a tiny string up the butt. So of course, THAT was the bikini she chose to wear, thinking her friend wouldn't lie to her about Bikini Day. Until, of course, she boarded the bus, and froze, realizing everybody else was dressed in normal school clothes.
As fun as it is watching her get embarrassed, I felt for the girl when I learned of it... the poor dear got laughed at by the whole bus and mercilessly teased... every boy with a smart phone (which, these days, is just about every boy) got a picture, some with another boy pulling part of the suit askew by a dangling string. Boys will be boys, I guess, but a sweet girl like Katie wasn't used to that, and she was begging to get off right away. Unfortunately for her, ours was the last stop before school, and the bus driver had a schedule to keep. The school wanted to send her home early, but nobody could come get her. I was working, and my wife was filming scenes all day (she's been working on a low-budget independent film these last few years), and although she would have stopped, her phone ran out of charge. So Katie just had to suck it up and bear the humiliation until I was able to come for her at the end of the day.
On the ride home, she told me that up until lunch she was in class, bikini and all, but eventually the teachers stopped playing along and tolerating the distraction, and so the rest of the day she spent in the office, but that's actually where her day started looking up. At least she had fun there in the office. They let her help with filing, she said, which is sounds boring to me, but I guess the responsibility of doing an adult job was a thrill for a kid. The Principal must have had back problems because she said the bottom drawers of his cabinets were the only one that needed to be sorted. Though, now that I think about it, it's probably more likely that drawer was the oldest files, the only one where it didn't matter much if Katie screwed up... after all, he's got plenty of young secretaries who can do the job. One of them even taught Katie how to do some exercises named Kay-gulls, too, so if they're doing fancy aerobics, at least a few of them are limber enough to do all the filing. I'm glad she got something she liked out of the experience, because she was pretty depressed at the cruel joke her friend played and all the taunts afterwards.
I'm her dad, so I hurt when she hurt, but at least I saw an upside... I thought for sure that would put an end to her taking everything told to her on faith. But, nope, it didn't wise her up at all.
Not six months later, I learn she seriously hurt her reputation by falling for a con I remembered trying myself when I was a teenager. Only I never met a girl as gullible as Katie, so it never worked, and in this age of smartphones and Wikipedia, it should work even less. But, nope, Katie never looked something up when somebody told her something with a straight face, which is how she earned some pretty awful the nicknames and a bad reputation.
See, one day, I caught her staring at herself in the mirror, wearing only panties, and squeezing her arms tight to her side to push her breasts out as far as they would go, which wasn't far at all, she was pretty much flat as a board, but she had such a determined look in her face that I had to step in. "Darling," I said. "What are you doing?"
"Seeing if it's working yet," she said.
"If what's working?"
"If my boobs are growing. But I don't think they are."
I stared at her little nipples, which seemed to be reacting to a slight breeze, and licked my lips while I tried to come up with the appropriate fatherly advice. "Just give it time, girl. These things happen naturally in God's time."
"Yeah, but how long does it take for the sperm to kick in?"
Well, that just flabbergasted me. "The what?"
"Billy Hamilton said that if a girl drinks a guy's cum, it makes her boobs grow faster."
I knew Billy Hamilton, little shit in my daughter's class, knew his dad, too, both were always in trouble, and his daddy was practically a compulsive liar. I'd have hoped that if she'd learn to distrust anybody it'd be him. I sighed, and prepared to let her know she'd been duped. "Darling, I think he was playing a trick on you."
"Oh, don't worry, I know he was," she said, and for a second I had hope, but then she said, "Dummy doesn't even squirt yet!"
That didn't necessarily mean she knew that personally, of course. "No, I mean that thing about cum making your boobs grow, that's a myth."
She stared at me, not sure whether to believe me, but her natural trust in me made her voice quiver and lip pout out as she said, "But all the other guys said it was true..."
"It's not," I assured her, hoping against hope that she hadn't actually anything, that she was still just considering it as an option, if she wasn't developing as fast as she'd like. "It's just a line guys use when they want... well, you know."
That hope didn't take long to get dashed either. "You mean I sucked all those guys for NOTHING?"
"How many guys?" I asked, and she flabbergasted me by counting. And she used up all her fingers and wasn't done yet. I recognized some of the names from the neighborhood, kids, some in her class, some just around. "No adults though?"
"Just a few," she said. "Mister Hamilton, Billy's dad, helped when Billy couldn't give me any. Are you saying he was lying to me too?"
That was a sticky situation. If I admitted he was lying, I'd have to confront him, or call the cops, and I feared for my life if I did either. I decided it might be best if I just pretended not to have heard that. "Not everyone knows it's a lie," I said.
"Good, because I'd hate to think Mommy's movie friends were lying to me too."
That was a real surprise. Not just that gay guys would let my daughter suck their cocks, but that Katie could even take them. It's hard to imagine that sight, Katie being able to get them past her lips, as big as they are. You've probably heard people say that black men have bigger dicks, but there's also a rumor that gay guys do too, and judging by Judith's movie friends, at least one of those rumors are true, if not both... I've had it confirmed. See, my wife goes through wardrobe and sometimes even showers with these gentlemen... just to save time and water, of course, since there's no attraction. Judith has always had a low sex drive, and they obviously have no interest in her. But she's told me that all of them have huge dicks, impressive both in length and thickness. And Darius, I've seen his for myself, she pulled down his shorts to show me that she wasn't lying. It was like a Pringles container when hard, and he was hard, too, which was flattering... it's not my thing, but it's nice to know that a gay guy is turned on by my looking at him, even with my wife right there holding it. Though all the same, I'm glad he and my wife had to run off to a film a scene immediately afterwards, since I have no interest in dealing with that monster. Imagining Katie doing so, overcoming Darius' natural aversion to a female mouth by working it down in her throat until she was practically gagging, well, that's a mental image a father has trouble getting out of his mind.
Anyway, it made sense I guess that Katie would ask them... they're over all the time, rehearsing a scene (in the movie, my wife plays a slut that's dating multiple black gang members at the same time, and I often catch them rehearsing a make-out scene... I'd be jealous if I didn't know they were all strictly into men), and both me and my daughter have gotten to know them all. We even watched them film a scene, once, in my bedroom, until they decided we were making too much noise and we had to leave them alone.
Now, I don't blame Darius, or his gay friends for giving in to my daughter's pleading, she's hard to resist when she begs, and I genuinely do believe they didn't know any better. From what they told me, they were sucking cock at Katie's age and younger, and seeing as how there was no sexual gratification going on with my daughter, and they were just trying to help her development by cumming down her throat, I was mad, but I wasn't that mad. Hell, all things considered, it was probably safer with them than anybody else, except for one thing. I'm not a homophobe, but I was concerned they might have exposed her to some kind of diseases... no matter how much they assure me that they were all clean, I know homosexuals are at the highest risk for catching HIV, so I had to put my foot down, especially when it wasn't going to do Katie any good. I'm not a racist, either, but you know, I couldn't help but wonder then if some of the stereotypes about black guys intelligence are true... I mean, just simple logic, they're all gay and have sucked cock, and so if semen made you grow breasts, wouldn't they all have breasts by now? My wife doesn't like me to use racial slurs, but I'll admit I shook my head, rolled my eyes, and muttered the 'N-word' to myself after I had that conversation with them, the one where I made it clear that it was inappropriate to let my daughter drink their cum.
At least they were friendly about it, though. One of them even offered to give her a facial to make up for it... he must do that kind of thing as a day job, because he's often over giving Judith a massage (though it infuriates me when she trades her pay for a day's work on the movie for a massage... we need that money!).
All the other guys my daughter sucked off, aside from Dan Hamilton of course, still needed to be dealt with, with a little more than a friendly conversation. All those Katie could name were around her own age, no more than five or six years older, and I remember what I was like at their ages, so I didn't want to ruin their whole lives over something I'd do... but I still had to put a stop to it. So I visited each of them with a gun and threatened them that if they so much as touched my daughter again, I'd hunt them down and murder them. I wouldn't have done it, the gun was a replica. I've never shot a gun before in my life, but kids are stupid and gullible, so they all bought my psycho-protective-Dad act. And of course, to make extra sure, I told Katie to stay away from them, especially the Hamiltons, and that no matter what anybody told her, there was nothing sexual that could do anything special for her, and if anyone told her otherwise, she should ask me. That seemed to take care of the problem, she stopped sucking men off in the hopes of bigger breasts.
The damage was done, though. By the time my gullible little girl turned eleven, because of her hopeless amount of faith in people, she'd already slurped down more cum than my wife has in fifteen years of marriage (Judith doesn't like to give blowjobs, she tells me it makes her gag and is too degrading), and kids talk. You can't just back away from that, even if you stop playing the role... maybe even especially then. It wasn't long before she was getting known by cruel nicknames like "BJ" or "Cumguzzler" or "Fuckface." Even "slut", although she told me she was still a virgin, and of course I believed my little girl. She just got caught up by her own foolishness, and she sure was paying for it. Often she'd come home crying. I asked the school to do what they could to stem the bullying, but pretty soon I had to transfer her to another one, where she didn't have a ready-made reputation. Her principal tried to talk me out of it, warning me that in today's social media age, the reputation would just follow her, but I needed to give her a fighting chance.
But a fighting chance ain't much good if you've got no common sense.
If those two harsh lessons didn't cure Katie of her gullibility, I thought for sure what happened just after her twelfth birthday would. Now that was a nightmare. She didn't come home one day after school. Her classmates said they last saw her talking to a man who claimed he was searching for his lost dog, and got into his van with him to help him look for it. We were out our minds with worry, until she showed up, dropped off at a bus stop on the edge of town, three days later. They never caught the guy who did it, and she wasn't physically hurt aside from a few scratches and rope marks, but she wouldn't talk about the man or anything that happened while she was with him. He must have threatened her, told her that he could get her at any time if she said anything, and of course Katie would believe that too. All we could say for sure was that she was no longer a virgin, and, judging from the DNA in the rape kit they performed at the hospital, they did eventually find the guy's dog.
My daughter may not be very smart, but she sure is resilient. To most people, a molestation and bestial rape would wreck them, but Katie, she bounced back. After a few days, home from school while her mother pampered her, she was mostly back to her old bubbly, open self. She even wanted to go back to class.
That's the thing about Katie, she was gullible as fuck, but for all that I jokingly call her dumb... she actually wasn't stupid, not in sheer brainpower... just ridiculously easy to fool. She was a whiz at math, which they always say girls aren't good at, and her other classes had pretty high marks too. I always joked she might become an astronaut and make it to the moon, if only because somebody told her it was made of green cheese and she loves cheese. But she genuinely liked school, too. I think maybe it's because you're supposed to be able to trust the teachers, if they tell you something, it's true. She likes her teachers, and her teachers like her. A few even offer her extra credit, tutoring her after school or on the weekends at their place. Funny story about that, I got all freaked out once because I heard her talking about something she shouldn't have been, but turns out it was her English teacher, and he explained, he was teaching her the book "Of Human Bondage." I looked it up after I got off the phone with him... it's a masterpiece they usually only teach in high school. That's my girl, so book smart.
But her book smarts never corrected her natural gullibility.
So, naturally, when she told me that she met a modeling scout online who wanted to meet her for an in-person audition at a nearby hotel, I thought the worst. I mean, doesn't that just sound sketchy as hell? But of course my daughter was all excited about it, and begged me to let her go and try out to be an underwear model. Of course, I could hardly tell her that it was impossible to be legit... being randomly discovered on the Internet is exactly how my wife got her movie role, somebody spotted her on her BBC fansite (she says she got started watching those British shows while I was at work and now she describes herself as a BBC addict)... they thought my frigid wife had the right look to play a wanton slut. But that was a one-in-a-blue-moon sort of thing. I knew how unlikely it was that the guy Katie was talking to was really a modeling scout, and I told her so.
"But you don't know for sure," she pointed out. "Can't we at least see if it's okay?"
Though if he was a freak, just seeing could end up with us at gunpoint and him forcing me to watch while he rapes her or something like that, so I was inclined to say no, but Katie started begging, and I already said I can't resist when she begs. So, that's how I found myself taking her to a hotel, she all dolled up in the cutest little orange skirt and blue top, and knocking on the door.
The guy Katie had been chatting with answered it with a smile, obviously recognizing her. "Wow, you look even more beautiful in person," he said. He didn't. He certainly looked like a child molester, balding but with longish hair where he did have it, sort of pudgy, and awkwardly wearing corduroy slacks and a olive dress shirt that made him seem just a little out of place, looking like a big kid dressed up for by his mom for a fancy occasion. Of course, looks didn't mean anything. If you looked at me, you might think I was a wimp, but I'm wiry, in fact, I was pretty sure that despite him outweighing me two-to-one, that I could probably take him down if he turned out to be trouble, assuming he wasn't armed. So with that in mind, and the friendly way he shook my hand when Katie introduced me as her daddy, I followed him into his room.
He introduced himself as Marty Klein, told me he was a nephew to a second cousin of Calvin Klein or something, and that's how he got into fashion. Was it true? To this day, I don't know for sure. But I had to give him some credit... despite my misgivings outside, inside, it looked professional. Sure, it was in a hotel, when I'd expect a real professional would probably have had a studio, but this wasn't just some pervert ready to snatch my little girl, he had a setup, there was a suitcase full of outfits, adjustable lights, and a real camera on a tripod. Even the independent filmmakers my wife works with don't have that, they film everything on their phones (they're ultra-low budget, which is probably why it's taking so long... then again, my wife does regularly bring home some money from it, so at least they know better than to screw their actors... she likes these guys, but I'm sure she wouldn't put up with them for so long if she was always getting stiffed). Marty, though, he even had a roll-up greenscreen that he could use as a background to make a picture look like it was at the beach or something. The hotel room itself wasn't especially atmospheric, but that wasn't his fault. I'm pretty sure it was last redecorated in the 70s. Tacky sheets, shag carpeting, faded yellow wallpaper that was peeling in places. There was also a pungent yet alluring odor, but it was a hotel room, who knew what the last person was doing here.
"I'm glad you agreed to come," he said when the door closed. "I've scouted a lot of talent, but rarely have I seen a girl with as much natural beauty as your daughter here. Now, how this works is, I'm going to put her through the paces of a modeling shoot. If she goes through the whole shoot, I'll give you $500, whether I end up signing her to a contract or not, for her time. If we don't sign an agreement, I'll destroy the pictures and we go our separate ways, but if I like her, and I have a feeling I will, then we'll sign a deal where you get a percentage of what I make off any pictures of her. Some girls, I sold the audition pictures and film alone for a hundred thousand dollars. I get a standard fifty-percent cut of everything while you're signed with me, and if you think that's too much, don't sign with me."
"Sound fair," I said, relieved at how casual he sounded about all of this, like it really was just a business to him rather than an excuse to get an underage girl to pose for him in a hotel room.
"But if you're having any doubts about whether she can make it, then back out right now, because if we agree to do the audition, and if your daughter doesn't go through the whole shoot, because you or she just want to quit, you owe me $500 for my time. To make it a little easier on you, in this case, you get to keep any pictures and video I've taken, as long as you don't use them for any commercial purposes, as I still own the copyright." I nodded... it seemed like a steep price if we bailed out, but if he was a professional, obviously he would put a premium on not wasting his time. "You're her guardian, so it's up to you what you do with the money she's earning, but most parents put half in the college fund, give a quarter to the kid directly, and keep a quarter for their own expenses, gas and such." I nodded. Gas was so expensive, any help would be appreciated. Same thing with college, but if worse came to worst, I could always convince Katie that a free Internet college was just as good as the real thing. That's a joke... I would never mess up my daughter's future like that.
Still, it seemed like a fair deal, I thought a hundred thousand was a little pie-in-the-sky. I mean, I'm no fool, I'm sure most models make a lot less. Still, even a little would help... we could use the extra money. And it wasn't like Katie wasn't the one who dragged me here, begging to be given her chance to be a model.... I wasn't pressuring her into anything. So I shook his hand. "Sounds good to me, sir." He held out his hand, and I had a moment of doubt, but stepped forward to shake it. Guy had a firm, honest grip.
"Now we don't really need you here, if you want, you can just go grab a coffee or something and come back in an hour, maybe two."
Now, obviously, this was what I was worried about, that he'd try to get himself alone with my daughter as soon as possible. I'm no fool, I knew what a guy could do with her, no matter how respectable and professional he seemed. "No thank you, I think I'd prefer to watch and make sure nothing inappropriate happens," I told him.
"Fair enough," he said. "Can I interest you in a drink? Or maybe something else?"
I'm not much of a drinker. I've got a freaky metabolism where it doesn't react well with me at all. On my wedding night, just the champagne from the toasts hit me so hard that I passed out in the car, and worse, I had this odd, incredibly vivid dream of my wife, still in her wedding dress, getting fucked by the limo driver, her stocking-covered legs in the air as she was beside me on the big heart-shaped bed of our Honeymoon suite. That image of his huge black hands holding her ankles apart while he plowed into her was so real that I thought maybe it was true until my wife explained that my dreaming mind must have put together the fact that the limo driver helped her get me up to our room and the loud sounds of sex from a nearby suite into a dream. She had a point, she was always quiet during sex and whatever I heard was loud, raunchy, energetic, and besides, Judith just wasn't that kind of girl. Since then, I've tried not to drink too much, on the few times my wife's convinced me to do so for social reasons, I tend to have similar strange sex dreams. But I'm not made of stone, so, wondering what else he might have on offer, I asked, "Something else?"
His smile vanished. "Oh, shit, I almost forgot to ask. You're not a law enforcement officer of any kind, are you?"
"Good, because if you're a cop, legally, you have to tell me."
Of course, I knew that. Everyone knows that. "I'm not a cop... but... why does that matter? Is something illegal going on here?" I wondered again if maybe he was a molester.
"Of course not. Well, maybe a little. As a creative mind, I enjoy a little pot now and then." I knew that was a part of the smell. And I couldn't blame him for pot, I've heard that about creative people. I'm not very creative, but I indulge myself. "It's pretty normal. I actually have a license for it, medically, but that just means it's legal in the state, federally I can still be busted. And if I were going to offer you some, to be polite, that would be illegal." His gaze flew to my daughter then said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot, your daughter's here. You wouldn't want to..."
Katie knew I smoked. Hey, I can't drink often, and everyone should have the right to relax, right? "No, it's okay, I've got a medical prescription too." Of course, mine was bullshit, a friend of Judith's is a doctor, and he wrote a prescription for me in exchange for a hundred bucks. Course, he was a bit of an ass about it, at first he gave the official reason as "Anxiety syndrome brought on by wife banging other guys." I can't believe she's friends with him. I made him change it... now it says Cuckold's Anxiety Disorder which he says is the simplest syndrome that will give me free pot. So my prescription was bullshit, but Katie believed it was genuine, one of those ways her gullibility was actually useful. I could smoke in a room with her with a clear conscience, knowing I could tell her it was prescribed medicine and not something she should take for fun. "So if you were to offer, that would be fine, as long as we crack a window."
"Then I'm offering." He gave me a joint, pre-rolled, and let me take a seat near the window. He himself didn't take one, but I assumed he'd just had one before we arrived. So I lit up while he took a few shots of my little girl, fully clothed, on the bed, and in front of the screen, though of course I couldn't see what background he'd put into it... that's done in post-production. He also turned on the video camera, but that he mostly left running, centered on the bed, without interference. Marty told me it was mostly there as a record to prove nothing inappropriate happened. That was a confidence builder.
A few minutes into the shoot, still filming, he said to my still preteen daughter, "Okay, now I think it's time you take off those clothes."
"Hey now," I said. Katie, she's so trusting, she already had one arm out of her shirt when I spoke, then paused, waiting for me to object.
Marty looked to me, hurt. "Didn't your daughter tell you? I specialize in underwear modeling. That's what the Klein name is known for. I can't very well have her audition without her taking her clothes off."
That made sense, and she had mentioned it was an underwear model, but I thought an audition might not go that far right away. "Still I don't know if that's appropriate..."
"Please, Daddy?" Katie asked me.
It always was hard to resist her. "Okay, but just to your underwear," I said.
"Actually, no, she's going to have to change into these. I have to see her in our own products." He held up a pair of underwear, sized for a little girl, saying, "Li'l Slut." The things fashion houses come up with these days. At least the cut was tasteful, hardly any more short than her normal panties.
Katie was already down to her training bra and panties, so I could compare directly. It wasn't that bad. "Fine, turn the camera off and turn around while she changes."
"No." That was pretty bold, and I stared him down, wondering if I should get up and leave. Instead, he explained, "Look, I'm a professional. Every girl's body is different, every mound is different. I have to see what I'm working with, how it's shaped, so I can see how best to highlight the clothes. So I'm going to have to see her naked. Every model gets naked, it's standard procedure. And when I've got a naked little girl, I want the camera on more than ever so nobody accuses me of anything I didn't do."
Okay, that made sense, but my protective instincts kicked in. "She can leave her bra on."
He shook his head. "I can't have anything that distracts from the clothes we chose for her. No top at all is better than a top that doesn't match. It's your call, but if we do this at all, we have to do it by my rules, you understand. No questioning my every order." I hesitated a second longer, and Marty said, "You can quit if you want, but, we already shook hands, so if you do, you owe me $500. Might as well get some good pictures out of the deal."
Well, that made more sense than anything else. I mean, I'm not perverted or anything, but, if I'm going to be paying $500, instead of shots I could get from school picture day, I might as well be paying for sexy underwear shots, even if it's my own daughter, right? Besides, I could use it to rub it in her face for how she'd been fooled. And, of course, there was the fact that while I was sitting there, smoking and thinking, Katie had already got stark naked. It's not like he was going to see anything he hadn't already seen. "Fine, I won't interfere," I said. "Listen to the man, Katie, he knows what he's doing."
I was wrong about him not seeing anything he hadn't already seen, because once I'd given him the go ahead to continue, he bent down right in front of her. "Get on your knees," he said, and that movement put him right at eyeline with her pussy. "Let's see what we're working with here." He looked it over like a prize showhorse, which I guess was okay, but what he did next shocked me. He reached right in, touched my daughter's slit, and pried the lips apart to see the pink inside, then made an impressed face as he nodded. He next cupped her entire mound, making Katie suck in her breath in surprise, but she wasn't hurt, and smiled again when he said, "This is an impressive pussy, exactly the kind we like to model our underwear." I was about to speak up, tell him to get his perverted hands off my daughter, but right then he did pull away, and his attitude of nonchalance convinced me that I was overreacting, that this was just normal. After all, he did it with the camera on. "The shape is the most important part, since a lot of these shots are close-ups, with no face. I mean, we do like the face in the shot too, so photogenic girls are important, but I'd rather a homely girl with a great pussy than a pretty one with no form. Luckily, your daughter has both, which means that if she has, or can learn, the right attitude of a good model, I am probably going to sign her to a contract and make you both lots of money."
"I can be a good model," Katie said. "I'll show you, just tell me what to do and I'll do anything."
"You shouldn't say that," I warned her, and Marty shot me a warning glance. I forgot, I'd agreed not to interfere. But that was the sort of thing a gullible girl like Katie shouldn't say to a guy.
"No, it's the right spirit," Marty said. He grabbed the underwear, held it up in front of her, and said, "Let's do a few poses."
My daughter snapped the underwear up, and for the next few minutes, everything seemed like a model shoot once again. Sure, she was topless, and the photographs seemed a little more sexual than I'd seen in catalogs, but there was nothing outrageous. And some of the sexy shots looked down right cute on a little girl, like the one where she lay on her stomach, ass in the air, the underwear so tight they practically molded to the shape of her cheeks. Coppertone had a famous ad with a bare-assed little girl, and my Katie's panty-covered ass-shot seemed at least as cute.
It got even cuter when he ordered a costume change and put her in a g-string. I didn't even know Calvin Klein made those for preteens. But then, Katie has that bikini that showed even more, so it wasn't that surprising. Marty took a long time measuring her for it, though, and even then he fucked up, some... every once in a while she'd take a pose that would expose her slit. Of course, I didn't want to point it out in case he'd use that as excuse for how her body wasn't suited to be a model after all. And the accidental nudity was kind of cute, when there's was nothing sexual involved.
I was pretty satisfied, but Marty wasn't. "Something's not right," he said. "You're good, but... there's just something in your posture, in your bearing."
"What?" Katie asked.
"It's just not quite the model attitude," he said. He snapped his fingers. "I know what it is. You're ashamed."
"I am not," she said.
"No, you are. On a subconscious level. You're in your underwear in front of two guys who are fully clothed, and one of them's your daddy... it's only natural you feel a little ashamed. I've seen it many times before. I think it might help if your daddy left..." He looked to me, and I shook my head. No way was I about to leave somebody who might still be a pervert alone with my daughter, money or no money. "But he's too protective for that. So, I have a solution. Both of us will undress." He put down his camera and started undoing buttons on his shirt, and then looked to me. "I call the shots, remember. Either you help me get your daughter comfortable enough to model properly, or you quit and pay me my fee."
I really didn't want to shell out $500, so I took off my shirt and then my pants, leaving me in my tighty-whiteys.
Which left me as the most-dressed person in the room. Marty was completely naked. He saw me looking, and he said, "Sorry, I always go commando. So if anybody here should be nervous, it should be me."
"Wow, you're hard," Katie said, staring at the piece of meat swinging between his legs as he moved back to his camera. It was bigger than me (which sounds like a good thing, but people always say that it isn't the size that matters, and in fact my wife tells me in confidence that her more experienced friends all agree... most girls don't like big cocks, they hurt... and mine's the perfect size for her), and yeah, it was pretty hard, so I was worried he was about to fuck my little girl with it.
But what he said next calmed my fears. "Yes, it is. But don't flatter yourself, it's not for you." Maybe he was gay too... I've heard fashion photographers often are, and it would explain why he was so comfortable with touching a little girl, and maybe the penis size. "You've heard how guys think about sex every seventeen seconds?" She nodded eagerly. I'd heard that too. "Well, it's true. And me, I'm paid to think about what looks sexy, so I can't help it, and it takes more than seventeen seconds for a boner to go down." That seemed reasonable to me. I'd had times like that myself. "But I guess you could say some of it's for you. I mean, you are a very sexy little girl." Well, there goes that that hope. He looked at me, as though expecting I might object. "Now, that doesn't make me a pervert, that's just fact," he said, the comments directed at both of us. "A guy's eyes are connected directly to his dick, bypassing the brain. His eyes and dick don't know if a girl's body is legal or not. All it knows is that it's sexy, and it wants to fuck. Then the information goes to the brain to tell us if it's okay to act on it or not. So when I look at you, my dick goes..." He didn't answer in words, but he made his cock jerk up and down, like it was standing to attention. My Katie giggled at it. I think I saw a pearl of precum percolate on the head of Marty's cock, which made me wonder about his intentions, but luckily he cleared that up. "But I'm not a pedophile, and I know that you're too young for me to fill you up with cock and thrust in and out again and again until you're full of my cum, and do that again and again until you're pregnant, no matter how much evolution wants me to try. And besides, you're my client and this is all being filmed. So I won't." Was it my imagination, or did Katie seem disappointed at that? She seemed to be starting a pout, but just as I noticed, Marty pointed to me. "See, look at your Daddy. He's hard too. His cock gets hard before he realizes you're his daughter." I tried to cover up, but it was true, I was rock hard, so I guess he had a point. "Don't hide it, your daughter doesn't mind, and you're just going to make her feel like it's something to be ashamed of, and that's what we're trying to cure, remember?" So, with that in mind, I put my hands to my side, and she stared at the tent my dick was making in my underwear. "See? What did I say? Your daddy's dick wants to fuck you. That's how beautiful you are."
"Wow..." Katie said.
"That's why you have what it takes to be a model. So let's get back to work, okay?" She nodded eagerly, and he got her posing again, and this time directed her more and into weirder poses. I've never seen a pose of a girl with her feet bent back behind her head in an underwear catalog, nor any of a girl spreading her ass cheeks while the g-string just barely covers the ass hole. I guess he wanted to highlight just how small the string was.
Another few minutes of these poses, and Marty raised the bar again, eyeing me, then my daughter, and said, "You're doing great, so far... I think you're ready to try out our premium product."
I guess it must have been premium underwear, because it sure didn't seem like the kind of thing that is available at the WalMart. It didn't even seem like the kind of thing people wear, particularly not little girls, although it did look like it could be the kind of impractical thing fashion models wear on the runway. Maybe that's what he was preparing her for.
This outfit was actually a two piece. It had a top, although I'm not sure it made her significantly more clothed, since it left her nipples exposed. It was lacey and elaborate (done up with strings in the back, like a corset), starting just above the belly button at the front and back and a little longer on the sides, and ending just below where her breasts would be, and pushing them up and outward, Katie's pink little nubs proudly on display. It worked like a push-up bra, only without the bra part. Really, it looked more provocative than when she was topless, but I could hardly complain when she was more covered than she'd been the rest of the shoot.
The bottom piece was another matter. From the front it looked a little like a lacey string bikini, or maybe even micro-kini, with a thin gauze crotchpiece that was mostly see-through, except around the slit the lace design obscures the view except from a close up look. It clung tight to her mound, and ended just below it, supported by strings going in opposite directions around her legs.
That left the back uncovered, and it was from behind that the outfit became totally impractical. It was totally open around the butt, just outlined in string pieces that were shaped a little like a butterfly. But there was no piece at all designed to be nestled in her buttcrack, and if she got into a spread-cheeks pose with this suit, there wouldn't be a string in the way, you'd be taking a an unobstructed picture of a preteen asshole. And probably a little bit of her pussy hole to boot, if the crotch piece rode up a bit.
Marty had her turn around a few times in the outfit, nodding appreciatively, and then said, "You wear it well, but, for these premium outfits, we've got a special technique that makes it really shine."
"What?" Katie asked.
He put down the camera and sat on the bed, then patted at his side so she slid up to him. They were both facing me, and Marty constantly slid his eyes towards me as he spoke. "See, in any kind of business, sex sells, and especially in fashion. That's why we use pretty girls and not ugly girls. But what sells best is just a hint of real sex, that people pick up on subliminally. So what we do with our very high end materials, is what we call a flush."
"Like a toilet?" she asked.
He laughed. "No, it means like a blush, but it's not from embarrassment, and it's not on your face. See, we need to make you aroused. The more aroused you are, the more aroused anyone viewing the pictures will be. The more aroused they are, the more likely they are to buy whatever it is we're selling. Make sense?" My daughter thought about it, than nodded, but of course anything that sounded good would make sense to her. "Of course, I'm worried your Dad might not be prepared to do what it takes to be a model. So, what do you say, Dad? Can I give your daughter a good flush?"
I realized then what he was doing, getting me to strip, getting naked himself, the raunchy outfits and poses, and now this. He was trying to push my buttons! He wanted to make me cry uncle, pull my daughter from the audition, all so I'd have to pay him $500 instead of him having to pay me. Well, we'd gone this far, so I thought maybe I'd fool him... I could always let him go through the whole shoot, as long as he didn't try to rape her, then not let him sign her, just walk out $500 richer. Besides, Katie was already looking at me with her big blue puppy dog eyes, and said, "Please, Daddy?"
I mean so what if he wanted to get her 'flush'? A vigorous genital rubbing, with a little fingering and kissing, that ain't going to hurt her... why, that's just part of a routine massage for girls. My Judith gets massages all the time, and she tells me it happens whether it's a guy, girl, or gay guy who's massaging you, there's no sexual meaning there, the moans are just from the same kind of pleasurable pain as working a really tight muscle, a girl's pussy has a lot of tension in it. I wish I could get a massage like that... I mean, legally... see, it's okay for girls because they won't ejaculate from a massage, but a girl touches a guy's cock for too long, even just as a massage, it's going to go off, and Judith says that makes it both illegal and cheating. Sometimes, girls have all the luck.
"Or if you prefer, you could do it yourself," he offered, which he probably thought would scare me off even more.
Nine times out of ten, Marty's scheme probably would have worked, parents being as squeamish as they were, but I knew better. It wasn't like it was going to hurt her any. Of course, I still didn't feel right about doing it myself. "You're the expert, so you go right ahead," I said. Little Katie seemed surprised but happy, and Marty, well, he didn't seem too bothered... but then, I guess he thought he was winning either way. But I knew the truth... I was getting the better end of the deal, I was going to walk out of here with $500 and my daughter was basically just going to get a free massage out of the deal.
So, grinning to myself at my own intelligence, I watched as he got her worked up. He started rubbing her breasts, saying he wanted to get her nipples nice and perky... and, when they didn't respond enough to his fingers, he licked them, sucked on them, and then finally nibbled them slightly with his teeth, and that seemed to work, they were hard as little beads. I could see she was starting to get flush, but Marty was just getting started. Next he started stroking her crotch, panties on, of course, but a firm stroke, almost a grope, and pushing the fabric into the groove of her slit. "Here, why don't you sit on my lap," he said, and my daughter climbed on him, quick as a bunny, and he turned her around so that she was facing me, her back against his chest. And his dick... well, that was right between her legs, but not sexually, it was just standing out between them like that was the only place it could go without bending it. Looked almost like she had the cock. Seconds later, though, he did lift her and adjust her, I guess so his dick would be between her ass crack and his own belly. Then, from behind, her returned to stroking her again, and this time, he slid underneath the panties... of course, the panties were largely see-thru anyway, so I could see exactly what he was doing, he was getting her fingers inside of her. At first, my little girl kept holding her breath as he dug inside her to at least the middle knuckle, exhaling and taking another breath when she couldn't hold it any longer, but soon, she was flat out moaning the moan of a girl getting a really really good massage, and she was twitching and bouncing, which must have driven Marty crazy since she'd be rubbing right up against his cock stimulating him with every bounce. Even if he's not a pedophile, it's got to be hard to not go off with that going on.
As the massage continued, he began whispering stuff in her ear, I don't know exactly what, I didn't want to get close and look like I was trying to get a better view, or worse, that I didn't trust that Marty wasn't actually fucking my girl's asshole, but whether it was the words or the work of his masseur fingers on her body, she was damn flush and fast... her whole skin just seemed a little pinker all over, and especially around her face and crotch, and, why, you could see the wetness coming off her pussy. I wondered if maybe it was going to ruin the underwear... or if not that, the way his fingers stretched it out when he rapidly sawed them in and out... and even though he started with one, I could tell he was using two now, and penetrating her vigorously with them, as though they were a cock, or two thinner cocks working together to make a huge one.
Luckily it was just fingers, so it counted as a massage... a particularly intense one, and within a few minutes she was squealing and he held her tighter to him while she shuddered. Katie's eyes, briefly rolling up in the back of her head, closed now, as she breathed in and out deeply, even though Marty was still massaging her... more gently now, sure, but his fingers were still working. "Okay, that's good for now, let's get back to work."
He lifted her off him and back on the bed, and she rolled over on her stomach and that's when I saw that he had, indeed, cum on her, there was a streak of it in the small of her back and rolling down over one of the strings framing her butt, and down into her ass crack. When he spotted it, he grinned at me and rushed to pat it dry with the bedspread. "Hey, accidents happen."
I burst out laughing at that... probably the pot, but it was funny to me. Because it clearly was an accident, although I'm probably one of the few people in the world who'd believe it. Marty smiled too, and Katie gave a confused giggle even though she wasn't entirely sure what we were laughing at.
It was back to work taking pictures after, although the smeared cum wasn't completely cleaned up by the bedspread, and hung around, looking like one of those slime trails snails leave behind... big fucking snail though, and that thought got me cracking up again. "What's so funny?" Katie asked, all deadly serious.
I couldn't very well explain about the snail, I'd sound like an idiot. "It's nothing, just, your back's still a little still messy, baby. The pictures are going to look pretty funny." At least, the ones where her back was visible... most of the ones he'd been taken were focused on the front of the panties.
"To a layman, maybe," said Marty. "But a little bit of cum is just going to give her skin a healthy shine. We call it a glazing. On camera, it won't be visible, except, subliminally. If anything, she could use a little more of a glazing. Maybe we'll do more when we next flush her."
"I think I could use more flush now," Katie said.
"Okay, maybe a little, but we won't go as far this time," he said. Clearly he was worried he was nearly crossing some sort of line into inappropriateness, and I could respect that. "It works better if you're just about to pop, rather than if you actually pop. You know what I'm saying?" Katie shook her head, but I thought I did. "I want you to be a little frustrated, leave you wanting more, because it projects that want to the audience." Okay, that wasn't quite what I was thinking, but it sounded good. "But don't worry, I'll make sure you're taken care of by the time we're done."
"So, do I get on your lap again?"
"No, just lie back." Katie lounged on her back, legs spread as shamelessly as a whore, which looked even more shameless in that underwear, her butt was lifted just so her bare asshole was in view underneath the crotch-piece.
This time, instead of rubbing the nipples first, Marty went right for the pussy, and not just with his hands, either. He put his face down there and used his tongue, licking through the fabric, which was more of mesh than clothing anyway, so he had to be getting her wet with his tongue, and probably getting some of the taste of her. She could certainly feel it, anyway, the way she was squirming and breathing heavy, I thought she might 'pop' right then. She felt it even better when he pulled the fabric completely aside and worked his tongue inside her hole. He didn't bother to explain it, but obviously there's no point slobbering all over the fabric when the fabric's barely any barrier... it's not that much more of a step to lick Katey's preteen pussy directly. All in the name of the shoot, of course.
Still, it was damn hot, seeing my little girl getting a tongue slathering all over her cunt, probably for the first time (I doubt her kidnapper was so considerate, although his dog might have been). His fingers got inside her too, and this time there were no panties in the way, so it looked remarkably like her getting fucked, and I guess what Marty said about the eyes connected directly to the dick was right, because I was hard as fuck and about to cum in my pants, even thought it was my underage daughter and I'm not sexually interested in her, or any kids. I wanted nothing more than to masturbate, but I thought that would weird her out. Have to be a responsible parent, after all. So instead I sat back, toked a little more, and waited for him to finish getting her 'flush.'
I'll give Marty one thing, he must have a lot of practice at this sort of thing... he got her close to orgasm, but didn't push her over. Just when I thought she was about ready to pop, he pulled back, and it was all business again. I mean, sure, he did give her nipples a bit of a glaze, applied directly with his cock, and then decided her lips needed some shine too.
Pretty soon the guy announced he was running out of space on his memory card, and so he had to make the remaining shots count, and after that, he got very picky. No longer was Marty content to give a simple direction and have Katie pose, he put her in exactly the positions he wanted, right down to the exact angles of each of her limbs, which he usually adjusted personally. And the shots got a little more nude and lewd, the crotch-piece pulled to the side and exposing her wet slit to the camera's hungry eye, but he assured me that since she was technically still wearing her underwear, it was still a legal modeling shot. Still, seeing her spreading her pussy lips with her legs in the air did give me pause, as did when he climbed between her legs to adjust the exact height he wanted them at, not to mention the moment he gave her a little glaze on her slit while he was there... I had to lean in close and make sure he wasn't doing anything inappropriate. A shot of her holding up a hastily-hand-made sign that said "Fuck Me" (apparently that was the brand name of the underwear... I guess it goes with their brand of pumps I've heard so much about) seemed in poor taste, but it all seemed to be done professionally.
He was still pushing my buttons, no doubt about that, though... all the maneuvering, the glazings, the re-flushings... I'm no idiot, I have to believe they were more than what was absolutely necessary in a modeling shoot, but it was all just a matter of degree. Maybe he kept her a little too close to orgasm for longer than was appropriate with a girl her age, but it did make her look fabulously hot. Maybe he didn't need to have his finger in her asshole to move her body into the exact spot on the bed, but it did get the point across quickly. Maybe he glazed a little too much of her tongue (at one point it seemed like he was glazing her tonsils!) before the shots where Katie playfully stuck it out at the camera, but it's not like she had any complaints. That's kind of how it went... there was nothing I felt I could point to and say, "There, that is over the line," at least until he started fucking my little girl doggy-style.
Yeah, without any warning, Marty suddenly just lost it. She was in a position that was a lot like doggy style, and he was leaning over her, from behind, adjusting individual strands of her dark hair, his cock resting on her ass and dripping a little bit of glaze on it, as if it needed more. Then he pulled back and worked his finger inside her, giving her a fresh flush. And then, all of a sudden, without so much as a word, he presses forward, grabs her by the hips, and starts humping at her.
I didn't react right away... I mean, this was totally unexpected. If he was going to rape my daughter, he would have done it in the first few minutes there. And at first, I didn't even know if he was jamming his unprotected cock inside of her at all. So many times, while he was adjusting her, he'd end up in a position where it looked very much like he was fucking her, and he'd stay that way for some time while he got the pose just right, and I'd get worried, but every time I went to look, his cock would actually be between her thighs or in her ass crack or otherwise out of danger. He didn't seem at all concerned about the camera filming him while he fucked her, so I was lulled into thinking maybe this was the same kind of thing, even if he was thrusting his hips towards her, and she was bouncing back, and moaning, I thought it was just like the dry humping Judith and I did before our wedding, which was still exciting even though we had clothes on. I just expected that if I did bother to get off my ass and look closer, I'd find he'd just been rubbing up against her, but not having sex, or, at the very most, fucking her asshole which was safe and not even real sex. But they both seemed to enjoying it too much, so after only a minute or two, I got up and had that closer look and, to my shock, saw his thick slimy shaft plunging into my little girl's pussy, and out again, sucking the labia back as it went out again, before pressing forward and going all the way in, as far as a cock could go, which looked way too far in a little slip of a girl like Katie. And when that cock came out again, I saw it glistening with my daughter's juices.
I probably should have said something, there, but I had my daughter to think about. She'd already been raped once, and I thought maybe it'd be best to let her believe this was a normal thing, so as not to traumatize her, or stigmatize her, with the belief that she was a two-time rape victim. Besides, after the first time my wife Judith told me of some research she'd done. Apparently, if a girl's being raped and you walk in on it, you shouldn't try to stop it, or even scare the guy off, especially if the guy's got a big cock, because you could do internal damage, it's best to wait until the guy cums and shrinks and pulls out naturally, and call the police after. So I sat back and watched Marty ravish my little girl.
At least Katie seemed to enjoy it, but as worked up as he got her during all the posing, it's no wonder. I was just hoping she wouldn't realize she was being raped, so if I had to, I could break it to her gently later. Luckily, she didn't even look at me, though of course when he pulled her hair roughly all she could really look at was the ceiling, but even that didn't seem to bother her, she moaned some when he did it, but it was an eager moan. That girl never one screamed or asked him to stop, and only whined a little... and that was mostly when he pulled his dribbling cock out of her.
After he breathed out deeply a few times, Marty opened his eyes, looked down at my well-fucked little girl, then over to me, and had a look on his face like a dog who knew he'd just shit on the rug. "Did I just fuck your daughter?"
"You sure did, and on camera... she's way below the age of consent! I think I'm going to call the police you sick fuck..." I wasn't sure I was, but it seemed like what I was supposed to say. I had my phone out... I already took a few pictures of my own during the event, just in case he denied it or deleted the evidence.
"Wait," he said, holding a hand up. "I can explain." I waited, finger on the touch screen, ready to call 911. "See, the reason I have a prescription for pot is because I suffer from PTSD. When I was a young man, I was molested by my aunts and cousins, forced to have sex with them doggy style all the time. It traumatized me, and now, sometimes, when I'm in a situation like that and see a girl bent over in front of me... well, it's like I'm right back in that room, fucking them. That's what happened there. It was like a black out. I didn't even know I was doing it. And I most certainly didn't enjoy it."
"That may be," I said. "But it doesn't excuse it. I think if you don't want me to call the police, you'd better open up your wallet big time..."
"I'll pay you $500 when we're done with the shoot," he said, "And not a penny more. I don't respond to blackmail, and you're not very good at it. Frankly, I'm offended that you'd try to take advantage of my disability. You said it doesn't excuse what I did, but... legally, it does actually. I have a medical condition. If the cops come and hear my side of the story and still decide I need to get arrested, and the prosecutor hears my side and decide I need to be prosecuted, I'll eventually be found not guilty due to temporary insanity." Shit, that sounded plausible. Murderers get off all the time, why not child molestors? His voice became smooth, easy-going, like we were buddies having a small fight that he was trying to de-escalate. "You're making too much of this. You think this is the first time this has happened to me? When it does, they don't throw a hissy fit. Most parents are understanding, it's all part of the business, and it hurt me more than it hurt the girls, reliving those traumatic moments. Only one parent's ever been uncool enough that she called the cops... and she's still in prison for not doing anything to stop me. That's what would happen to you." Now his voice was hard, uncompromising, as he pointed to the camera. "That's all on film too. So's your attempt to extort me, which is, by the way, also illegal. So, if you call the police, you'd better call somebody to watch Katie while you're in jail."
"Don't call the police, Daddy," Katie said, suddenly tearful. She was still posed on her hands and knees, like she was ready to take another picture after the fucking. Only this picture would have a drip of cum leaking from her pussy, even though her underwear was on to make it legal. "I don't want you to go to jail. It wasn't a big deal, it was fun actually."
I didn't want to go to jail either, but that didn't mean I was okay with it. Here I was, staring transfixed at my daughter's oozing cunt... only because I was worried about what just happened, you understand. "I'm glad you thought so, honey," I told her. "But that doesn't mean it's okay. I mean, he could get you pregnant."
He laughed. "Oh, almost certainly. I'm extremely potent. And your daughter is at her most fertile time."
"She.. wha... how would you know?"
"I can smell it."
Katie giggled. "When he chose the date he asked me about my periods. He said the best day for a shoot was the day I ovulate."
"It's scientifically proven it makes women more desirable," Marty supplied.
I knew my daughter had just recently started having periods, and now with this new information, I was more worried than ever. "She can't be pregnant! She's only twelve. It could ruin her life." Whoever heard of an astronaut who was also a preteen mom?
"Don't worry," Marty said. "I know a doctor who prescribes the Morning After Pill. I'll even meet you halfway and pay for it, seeing as how it's my fault. I won't give in to extortion, but I take care of my own messes."
The Morning After Pill? Our pastor railed against that, and we've always been very religious, God-fearing people. "But... but... that's abortion!" God was definitely against that.
"Depends on your definition. If that bothers you, though, there is another way to make sure the sperm doesn't meet the egg... but we'll have to act quickly."
"Right... quick, Katie, hop in the shower."
"But it's all gross in there, and there's bugs!" Katie whined. She'd seen them during a brief bathroom break, little beetles.
Crazy she'd put not wanting to be near bugs over potentially getting pregnant, but I pointed. "Go!"
My daughter turned on her side and got ready to follow my command, but Marty put a hand on her leg.
"No, that doesn't do a thing," he said. "It's a myth. Just gives the sperm more to swim in. If you want to make sure your daughter remains un-pregnant, you'll have to have stick your own cock in her."
"What?" Katie and I said at about the same time.
"See... scientists have studied it. It's a curious detail, but every time a pregnancy has resulted from a threesome, or a gangbang, it was always the last guy to have sex with the girl who's the father."
"That makes no sense," I said. If anything, it should be the first.
"Oh, but it does. And for a simple reason." He took his cock in his hand... it wasn't rock hard, but it wasn't flaccid, either, it was somewhere in between. With his other hand, he pointed to the ridge on the head. "See this ridge right here? This here is the best cum-scooper-outer in the universe. The last guy in the gangbang is always the father because he shovels out the last guy's sperm on every stroke. Now, if I had sex with her, I'd probably just cum again, but you, you're her father, I'm sure you could resist it long enough to clean her out. Unless of course you're sexually attracted to your own daughter."
"Of course not!" I said. Besides, I wasn't so worried about cumming inside of her, I didn't think it'd be a problem either way. "Are you okay with this, honey?"
Katie thought for a moment, then bobbed her head cheerily. "I'm okay with it."
Marty suggested she get on her back, that it was the best position for that sort of thing, and she spread her legs, and I saw a little bit of the cum that was leaking out of her... and I wasn't worried about that drizzle, but the load of the stuff that was still inside of her had to be taken care of. So I pulled my underwear down and let out my penis, then stared at the ridge that was, potentially, the only thing that might stop my daughter from getting pregnant. Well, there was only one thing to do, assuming Marty was right. And I had to double check on that. "Are you sure about the science?"
"I swear, it's totally legit, I read it on Facebook. But you need to act fast if you want to her un-pregnant."
So that is how I wound up having sex with my daughter for the first time. That is the only reason I ever would do such a thing, to protect her from an unwanted pregnancy at the hands of an unscrupulous photographer. My little girl stared at my cock as it entered her, then up at my eyes and smiled as I thrust all the way in... I needed to get deep to get all of it, after all. I pulled out, and it did seem like I forced out a gusher of cum from her, so I went back in for more. Again and again I thrust into my daughter, thinking only of her well-being.
"Think that's enough?" I asked after about ten strokes.
"No, I'm sure I can feel more inside me Daddy..." Katie insisted. "Go on... get me... un-pregnant..."
I think Katie was fooled there, by her own hormones, her own horniness, there was no way she could feel how much was inside her, she just wanted me to keep fucking her, but, better safe than sorry, right? And, I'm not going to deny it, it felt good... really good. I mean, I mostly only have Judith for comparison, but she always just lies there like a dead fish, lets me do my thing, but doesn't interact much. Katie... well, she was tight... not just the natural tightness of a little girl who hadn't had kids yet, but it felt like she was deliberately squeezing on me with her pussy... practically like she was milking me, trying to get more cum from me. That, and the way she kept saying, "Get me un-pregnant, Daddy..." which sounded a little like, "Get me... unnh... pregnant, Daddy!" Well, it was arousing as hell, even if it was my daughter. And when she started moaning and twitching, pushed deep into an orgasm by her own father's loving sacrifice, well, I felt myself about to cum, and my daughter's legs were wrapped around my back, pulling me in, so even if I wanted to it would have been hard to pull away without hurting her. So instead of trying, I went in deep, and her arms wrapped around the back of my neck as I emptied my balls into her.
When I was done, I was pretty embarrassed. After what I said, I just came inside my daughter. She didn't seem to mind, she had a real rosey glow and a smile and she kissed me on the lips, even put her tongue in, which was a little inappropriate but I went along with it. "Thank you, Daddy... but I don't think you were supposed to squirt inside of me."
"It's okay," I told her. "I had a vasectomy. I can't get you pregnant." Judith insisted on it right after Katie's birth.
"Wow, that's great!" she said. "So you mean we could do this all the time?" It was like she'd just discovered one of her pieces of furniture was actually a wondrous new toy.
But I had to be responsible. "I don't think so, honey. I was only willing to this time to help make sure you didn't get pregnant." I also didn't like how she just took my vasectomy on faith... I mean, I wasn't lying, but I could have been. I knew I'd have to have a talk with her about that later, tell her that a lot of guys use that as a line.
Marty, I now saw, was working the video camera... I hadn't even noticed, but he got the whole event on film, from multiple angles. "You know, with a vasectomy, this works even better..." he said. "It means your seminal fluid will help wash out any of mine that you didn't scoop out."
I pulled out, and it seemed like there was a flood of fresh goo flowing out, adding to an already impressive puddle on the bed. Marty filmed it, then put down the video camera and got his hi-def camera for some good shots, telling me we shouldn't waste the opportunity, wanted me to look and agree with him about how wonderful and artistic the whole thing made her pussy look. Mostly looked puffy and well-fucked to me, but then, I don't have a fashion photographer's eye.
A little later he convinced me to let him get that same artistic look on an asshole shot (with the underwear on, of course, so it was still legal), by letting him stick his cock up there and cum inside. Katie was all for it, and after all we'd done, what was one more picture? Besides, if the cum flowed out of her ass and in her pussy, I might have to prevent her pregnancy again. And, in fact, that's exactly what happened.
It was only after a few more hours that I remembered Marty had long ago said he was almost out of space on his memory card, and he admitted the truth... he'd had plenty of space all along, he just wanted to have an excuse to bail out if he wasn't getting the pictures he needed. Well, now he had them, and he paid the $500 and we actually did sign a modeling contract that said we'd get 50% of the profits from any sales the picture generated, or any job offers he generated. Marty promised he'd be in touch, all we had to do is wait. It sounded great.
We're still waiting. Katie is, anyway. By now, I'm pretty well convinced he just changed his mind, or maybe he failed to sell that first batch of pictures and moved on to better prospects without so much as a courtesy phone call. Katie may have taken a good picture, but she probably wasn't model material. If he was really a photographer at all. I mean, maybe it was all a scam all along, as realistic as it seemed. Still, my daughter had fun, and I had fun, even if it didn't lead where she wanted. It's a shame though, because we really could use that money.
Where it did lead was to a change in our relationship that leads up to how I came to be here today. Now that I'd put my penis in my daughter, well, she kept finding excuses for it to happen again. I suppose it makes sense, she had an awakened sex drive from her rape (Judith said that happens, some girls get scared off sex for life, others go the other way and become addicts), and learned that her Daddy had a magic tool that could prevent pregnancy and produce orgasms. So it seemed like every few days she'd have a tale about how somebody talked her into doing something sexual, or maybe she'd say she was just grabbed, and now she had cum in her pussy and needed me to get her un-pregnant. Sometimes, I think it actually happened... I mean, take for example, the time my brother's family visited. While my wife drove them back to the airport, Katie came up to me and said that while the adults were downstairs talking, my teenaged nephew, her cousin, talked her into playing a game called "Six-Legged Beast", that they had to be naked for, and that while they were playing, his penis 'accidentally' got stuck inside her until it went off. Yeah, that sounds like classic, gullible Katie, but of course I had to help her get all that nasty cum out so she didn't have an incest baby. Of course, sometimes, I think it was less about getting the cum out of her pussy than it was about getting a good orgasm. I mean, there was one time she said she was raped when I had just picked her up from a tutoring session, and she, not very convincingly, made up a story about somebody coming in while the teacher was out. I know what happened... clearly, she was just getting horny... maybe she's got a little bit of a crush on her teacher. And she couldn't act on it, but if she claimed she might get pregnant, she could get me to scratch her itch. I'm not gullible like her. Sure, I pretended to fall for it, because better I satisfy her than leave her looking elsewhere, right? At least that's what I thought. And my wife agreed, when she caught us together and I had to explain. Luckily, she'd heard of the same theory, and thought I should take care of Katie's needs, since I had a vasectomy and was 'safe.' At least that's what we thought.
Wouldn't you know it, both of them wound up getting pregnant. I guess you could say the doctor doing my vasectomy surgery fucked up, but really, I believe it was the work of God. When He wants a pregnancy, it doesn't matter if you've got a tube in your dick tied up, he'll make a sperm get through and make a baby happen. And God, he must have wanted two from us, because Judith's was twice the miracle Katie's was. See, my wife and I barely even had sex anymore since I started fucking Katie (I think that was another reason she was so accepting... she never had much of a sex drive and was relieved that I had another source to vent my bothersome needs on), but God's Will cannot be denied.
Here's what I'm pretty sure happened with that. See, there was this one day that we were all at the beach, though three of us had scattered to different areas. I was just coming back from getting some food, sat down on our beach blanket, closed my eyes under my sunglasses. A few seconds later, I felt an urgent tugging on my hand, and looked up to see Katie, doing what I always called the 'peepee dance.' Only when I looked closer, her bathing suit was askew, and there was a slimy pearl of goo sliding down her leg. "Daddy..." she whined. "I need your help..." She whispered to me about how she'd been walking around the docks, and a man had asked if he wanted a free sample of suntan lotion. She said yes, and she lay down so he could apply it to her... only she realized he was rubbing her with his penis, and when she tried to get away, he held her down and had his way with her, and cum inside. And, of course, she told me that this was the worst time of the month for a pregnancy risk.
I allowed her to drag me off towards the nearest portable toilet. There was no one around, and I had to get her unpregnant right that minute. Well, I fucked her on the toilet, and, well, sitting on the beach, seeing all those girls in their skimpy swimsuits, I was horny as hell and had built up quite a load and by the time I was pretty sure I fucked all of the pedo cum out of her, I was banging her with enough force to make the whole structure shake, and pretty soon I was cumming inside of her, giving her one last good rinse. Some of my cum, bearing a miracle sperm, got all over the toilet seat. Now, I didn't want to be caught fucking my underage daughter in a public location, so we just got out of there quickly and didn't wipe it down very carefully. Luckily, there was some big commotion going on further on down the beach... apparently some slut was doing a guy in public and letting anybody watch. Crazy how our society's morals have degenerated, you know?
Anyway, wouldn't you know it, my wife (who had gone off to make a phone call to a friend) must have used that very same toilet shortly after we left, sat down, got my cum on her and God directed one of those sperms right inside her to knock her up. Crazy, I know... who would have believed that "getting pregnant from a toilet seat" was possible, but it's the only thing I can think of (unless my wife raped me in my sleep, and that just isn't like her).
And maybe sitting on the toilet seat is what caused the sperm to go a little wonky when it produced my son Jordan. Don't get me wrong, I love him, but it would make things easier... see, Jordon was born with a rare genetic medical condition known as reverse albinism, that makes him look black. You wouldn't believe the looks some people give me because they don't understand that sometimes mother nature throws a curve-ball now and then. I bet you're even thinking it too. Well, I'll have you know my wife went ahead and got her doctor friend (the same one who gave me my pot prescription) to run a paternity test, just to prove her virtue beyond any doubt (not that I had any), and he told me it was my child, 100% sure. So Jordan is my son. And, man, he looks like he's well-hung, so at least that makes up for his genetic condition. I say 'makes up for,', but really, I love my miracle child no matter what the color of skin. And it could have been a lot worse... he could actually be a kid with some kind of special need... money's tight as it is.
Katie didn't get pregnant that time though... her baby's still not due for another couple months, but I'm pretty sure she's going to be mine too. I think it's what God wants. I mean, there's a chance it's not, but I've been very, very diligent about fucking anybody else's sperm out of her, even if I thought she was making it up (after all, I never could be sure... a girl's natural secretions can look a lot like a recent load of sperm, one piece of wisdom I've gotten from married life). I just hope He makes Katie's baby healthy. I don't care what color, as long as there are no major problems. I can barely afford the two pregnancies, and supporting two more kids is going to take a lot of work even if they're both healthy... if something goes wrong, it could ruin us.
Which is pretty much why I'm here. That's how could a good, honest, God-fearing man like me could get to this point, selling his pregnant, thirteen-year-old daughter into prostitution. And I know that's what this is, I'm no fool. But with all these new costs, money's so tight and there's the worry that it might get tighter, I'm pretty desperate. The Internet said you guys would be willing to pay a premium for pretty white girls especially if you don't have to use condoms. Sure, it's a little seedy, but... the way I figure it, she's not exactly saving her virginity anymore, and you guys can't exactly get her any more pregnant than she is already. But here's the thing, and the reason why I told you this long story... I don't want her to know she's a prostitute. That's a lot for a little girl to process. I think I can use her gullibility to protect her. So what we're going to do is pretend we're rehearsing for a movie that involves a little girl who gets pregnant by a demon and then a bunch of Satan worshippers try to turn her into a succubus... using sex. Clever, huh? I've already laid the groundwork for it... I told her it was going to be done mostly improv, and you want a real look, so you can do almost anything to her... I even suggested you might hit her or choke her and she was okay with that. Even practiced with her, just to see how much she could take, though don't worry, I didn't leave any marks. I can assure you, Katie's a tough little girl... probably from her days-of-rape experience. So you can do almost anything you want to her, if you pay enough and are willing to play along with the story. Just no dogs. I don't want to risk any flashbacks to that experience. Well, not unless you're willing to pay a LOT. I'm willing to negotiate, but I've got to be in the room for everything, and all payment's got to be in advance. I'm no sucker.
So, what do you say, deal?
Handcuffs? Sure, handcuffs are okay... I told you, pretty much anything...
No, I'm not really into handcuffs MYSELF...
Hey... what the hell?!
What the fuck? Remain silent? I asked you if you were a cop and you said you weren't! You can't lie like that!
This is entrapment! You don't even have a right to arrest me, I declared myself a free, sovereign citizen weeks ago. My lawyer is totally going to get me off, and get me a huge settlement.The End
“CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors.” - Phil Phantom
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