Copyright (c) 2013,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Tuesday, July 09, 2013

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.


A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: duties.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com




story_codes: M/g(11), first, anal, non-cons, preg

story_intro: In the late nineteenth century, young Annie is sent out West to become a child bride for a wealthy stranger. And then the girl learns from her husband what her duties are and who her master is.

story_language: English



 



Duties

Written by madvlad


	Long before the train chugged into Helena, Montana, Annie knew her new home would be a far different place then the crowded, sooty tenements of Chicago's south side. Along the way, vast stretches of plains unfilled by street cars, vendors' carts, and horse dung amazed her. Then came the mountains; broader and taller than the large buildings that soared along the Chicago River. Several of her fellow travelers told her that even larger peaks awaited farther west.

	At Helena, a stagecoach took her to Bounty, a town where men made their fortunes by pulling metal ore from the earth. One such man, Douglas Forsythe, was to be her husband. Annie wasn't sure how she had been chosen, but one day a well-dressed young man came to the coldwater flat she shared with her widowed mother and five younger siblings. After speaking to her mother in low tones, the man asked Annie a series of questions and then examined her teeth. After making notes in a small book, he told the mother he would be back in a week's time to collect Annie and present her with something called a dowry.

	Annie didn't understand her mother's reaction. She seemed both happy and sad for her eldest daughter and tried to explain that a great adventure awaited her. At first, Annie was quite excited. But once she learned that she would be going there alone, leaving her family behind, she resisted. Finally, her mother lost all control.

	"Don't you understand?" she shouted as tears flowed. "This is your way out of here. All you have in Chicago is the chance to marry a man like your father. You'll see him off to work before the sun is up and will welcome him home as he carries the stink of the slaughterhouse with him. And then will come the terrible day when he doesn't come home at all and you get a visit from a company man explaining why something went wrong with a machine or perhaps your man simply had a bad fall. God damn it!"

	With the last shout, Annie's mother paused, pressing a hand over her eyes as she sought to regain her poise. Then she continued in a lower voice roughened with grief and hopelessness.

	"There was probably as much ground pig as there was your father's mangled remains in that box we buried. That's your future here in Chicago!"

	Taken aback, Annie gave her mother no more problems, although they shared a lengthy and tearful farewell when the fussy young man came to take Annie to the train station. As she traveled further west, she became ever more enthralled. But she wondered what her husband would be like. She conjured in her mind a version of her beloved father, but a version that wasn't quite as hollow-eyed and weary as her father had been before his accident.

	She squinted at the sudden burst of sunlight in her eyes as the coach door was opened. As she had been so lost in thought, Annie hadn't realized that she had arrived in Bounty. With the assistance of the driver, Annie alighted from the coach and found herself under the gaze of a tall, stern man who looked nothing like her father.

	He was dressed in a fine suit but with polished boots that nearly came to his knees instead of the shoes she saw gentlemen wearing in Chicago. His beard was shot with gray and his eyes were shadowed beneath the wide brim of his hat.

	"You are Annie?" he said in a deep voice, making the inquiry sound like more of a command than a question.

	"Yes sir."

	"I am Douglas Forsythe. Reverend Anderson is waiting at the house to marry us. As I understand, you are now of the correct age as of today. Come."

	Forsythe lifted Annie into a carriage and then joined her, flicking the reins to get the horses moving. During the drive, Annie wondered about her husband-to-be's reference to the "proper age". Today was her birthday. She had just turned eleven.

	Whatever her fears were, Annie was impressed by the Forsythe's ranch. She had been told by the young man in Chicago that Forsythe owned several thriving mines which served as the basis of his wealth. And his house was a grand affair, with a huge porch and so many rooms inside.

	They were greeted by a plump Indian woman who bowed slightly at the waist to Forsythe and then silently nodded at the girl before taking Annie's small satchel.

	"That is Blue Feather," Forsythe explained as the woman disappeared upstairs with Annie's bag. "She's in charge of the cooking and cleaning around here and supervises a couple of other squaws in minding the house. She only speaks in her heathen tongue, but understands English perfectly well."

	The wedding was simple and brief, performed in the parlor by Reverend Anderson, a thin man with a balding pate. Dinner afterwards was a treat as the food was both rich and plentiful. Another Indian woman, this one thinner and younger, served the multiple courses. Forsythe seemed content to let Annie consume as much as he wanted. Near the end, he lectured her while Reverend Anderson nodded in sanctimonious agreement.

	"It is important that you eat well," Forsythe began. "For you must keep your strength to perform your duties as wife and mother."

	"Mother?" Annie asked.

	"Of course, the duties of a wife are to please her husband and master and to bear him children."

	"It is God's plan," Anderson quickly added.

	"And I want sons to pass an inheritance to," Forsythe concluded. "For it is my duty to provide for a family and to spread my seed upon this land."

	That night, Annie sat nervously in on the bed in a white nightgown. She knew as a wife, she had to lie in bed with her husband. She didn't know what else that entailed beyond the odd sounds she used to hear her parents make in the darkness.

	Forsythe came into the room and promptly disrobed. Annie had seen her father change clothes and bathe plenty of times, but had never seen his penis jutting up like Forsythe's was. Seeing where her eyes were locked, Forsythe nodded.

	"That's correct, wife," he said as he gripped the shaft. "You will worship this. Now, take that ridiculous thing off so I can see what's mine."

	Annie blushed as she stood. Why did he want to see her naked?

	Impatient, Forsythe took Annie gown by the collar and pulled, tearing it open. When he let go, it fluttered to the floor around Annie's ankles, leaving the small preteen standing nude before her towering husband.

	Forsythe feverishly raked his eyes over Annie's slender body. It was still quite boyish in shape except for a very slight flare of her hips and the small, pink-tipped nubbins on her chest. The man clamped a meaty paw over her chest, squeezing a freshly sprouting breast between his thumb and forefinger while he explored Annie's hairless mons with his other hand.

	Annie stood rigid with fear as she was intimately sampled. Forsythe wet his finger in his mouth before returning it between her legs. Annie jerked and gasped as the finger worked into the immature cleft of her sex and Forsythe grunted in approval.

	"Good, you're a virgin. But once a woman has been taken, she will wickedly desire all of the cock she can get. It is part of my husbandly duty to provide it to you often to keep you from shaming me by bedding others."

	With that, he pushed Annie back onto the bed. She was frightened, feeling very much like the little girl she was instead of the woman Forsythe kept prattling about. He wrenched her legs apart and spat in his hand, working his saliva into the slit of her tender young cunt. Then he took his penis in his hand, shoving the angry-looking purple head against Annie's bald quim.

	Annie whimpered as the thing pressed into her, making her stretch quite painfully. With a huge lurch, Forsythe sank his prick into her, bursting the child's maidenhead apart. Annie screamed as she was torn. The man was relentless as he drove his tool into her, burning and ripping until he had completely filled her. Her tunnel was so taut that Annie feared it would break, especially when her husband began to rut in and out of her.

	Forsythe was content as he deflowered his little wife, teaching her about her new role. Her tiny breasts quivered in time with his stroking and he looked further down. The sight was quite satisfying, seeing Annie's hairless twat spread by his thick, veined cock as he plunged in and out of her. With a harsh grunt, he came, planting a copious amount of seed into the preteen's womb. Then he collapsed on top of her, pinning the helpless child to the bed with his prick still embedded in her bruised and bleeding pussy.

	Annie was hoping this horrible thing was over, but Forsythe repeated the process twice more before he went to sleep, leaving his young wife to clutch at the aching and draining place between her legs before exhaustion finally took her.

	In the morning, Annie awoke before Forsythe. Creeping out of the bed, she retrieved her torn gown from the floor and had just put it on when she heard Forsyth stir. Reaching up, he angrily jerked the ruined garment from her.

	"You'll have no need of that in this bedroom," he snarled. "Your duties in here require no clothing and you'll remember your station."

	"Yes sir," she replied in a trembling voice.

	Forsythe pulled her to the bed and mounted her. Although the stuff he left inside of her had thickened, she was still damp enough for him to penetrate her. But it took more twisting and forcing to make her immature sex stretch enough to properly accommodate him. While Forsyth didn't seem to mind, it was brutal for the eleven year-old. She endured it with choking sobs and tears, learning from last night that screams would not summon any help. Her torment ended in the usual burst of hot fluid that invaded deeper into her, marking her body as Forsythe's property.

	Satisfied, Forsythe got ready for breakfast and a visit to one of his mines, leaving his naked young wife lying in bed with her legs still spread. Sometime later, Blue Feather, came into the room carry a small clay pot. Muttering in her native language, the woman comforted the girl before applying some kind of salve from the pot to Annie's wounded genitals. Through pantomime, Blue Feather taught Annie to keep herself lubricated with the salve.

	"All day," Blue Feather said, surprising Annie with the two English words. The woman pointed to the sun, tracing an arc across the sky. When she curled her fingers on one hand and used a finger from the other hand to jab into them. Annie didn't need help to interpret this as sex. The meaning was clear; Forsythe would take her any time of the day. And, as she had learned, at any time during the night.

	Annie was free to explore the house and the surrounding area. When she lived in Chicago, she helped support her family by doing needlework - something that Forsythe's man there had learned. So she found plenty of fine thread in all colors already assembled for her and she took up embroidery.

	Depending on his schedule, Forsythe would sometimes come home at midday for lunch and other times just before dinner. Annie quickly learned to shuck her undergarments when he arrived as he would often take her where he found her - in the parlor or on the front porch. He would simply bend her over something and lift her skirts, taking her from behind. Regardless of how many times she was used, her cuntlet remained a very tight squeeze and it was only through the benefit of Blue Feather's salve that she wasn't damaged by her husband's rough intrusions.

	At night, she remained stripped bare while Forsythe would pound into her over and over, cumming two or three times when they went to bed and once more in the morning. If he woke during the night to use the chamber pot, he would rouse his preteen wife afterward for another quick fuck before returning to sleep.

	"It is my duty to make you heavy with child," he said one morning, poking her cum-leaking pussy. He took her hairless mound and squeezed hard, making her yelp. "And it is your duty to use this thing of wickedness and give me my sons."

	After one month of taking her husband's seed in her womb, the girl's barely developing body surrendered and a seed took hold. This was confirmed two months later by the doctor that came out regularly to check whether the young bride was fulfilling her duties.

	"It will be my first son," Forsythe boomed, although Annie had no way of telling what it would be. She feared what his reaction would be if it turned out to be a girl. But either way, she would become a mother before her twelfth birthday.

	Forsythe planned a party in celebration of his impending offspring. For Annie, it would be the first time she would meet the other mine owners whom Forsythe often spoke about.

	The following Saturday, the other five men arrived with their wives and families. Annie had been mortified when she found that Forsythe had ordered Blue Feather to hang the bed sheet from their wedding night, now adorned with crimson stains of Annie's lost virginity.

	All of the other mine owners had young wives - some little older than Annie and the oldest being Jennifer, a sixteen year-old who had been wed to Eugene Collins. Together, they had a four year-old girl and a one year-old son and Jennifer was beginning to show with her next pregnancy. The girl, Sally, was a delightful little thing with wide blue eyes and blonde hair that was nearly white. She was such an angel that Annie was sure Forsythe wouldn't mind if she bore him a daughter.

	All of the other girls had borne babies and two were pregnant again. Lillian, a quiet girl of twelve, had just given birth shortly before Annie's arrival. Like the others, Lillian's husband had found a woman to act as a wet nurse so that his wife would be always available to pleasure him. The women were either miner's widows or young Indian women.

	At one point, Collins took Sally by the hand and led her from the room. The girl had been becoming a little restless and Annie's heart warmed as she saw the man who was so much like her husband gently lead her away for some play time. After a while, Annie followed them to the back porch, eager to watch the man playing with his daughter.

	She stopped cold when she found them. Sally's dress was crumpled on the porch and her milky-skinned body practically glowed as she lay on her belly across the railing. Spittle drooled from her open mouth as Collins shoved into her from behind.

	Annie wondered at first how such a tiny girl could take the man's thing in her quim without breaking apart. Then the truth became apparent and was even more shocking to the nave eleven year-old. Collins was using the little girl's ass as she heartily sawed his way in and out of her body.

	"You're a sinful whore just like your mama, aren't you?" he growled.

	"Yeth, Papa," the tot lisped in a strangled voice.

	"I met with Mister Warren last week," Collins said as he continued to sodomize his daughter. "He's the nice man who makes sure the right laws get passed so Papa can get richer. And he's going to have your little cherry when you turn eight as a reward. And do you know why?"

	"'Cause I'm a whore, Papa," the obedient tot gasped, obviously using the answer she had been taught as the reply to many of her father's questions.

	"Keep saying that," Collins grunted as his thrusting became fiercer. Annie thought it impossible that so much of the man's meat could be buried between Sally's soft little buttocks. The diminutive ass cheeks were pulled widely apart by Collin's thick cock and the child's anus and guts clenched at her father's cock.

	"I'm a whore, Papa. I'm a whore, Papa. I'm a whore, Papa."

	Sally kept repeating that as Collin's buggered her hard. A loud grunt from the man told Sally all she needed to know as the man's jism seared his four year-old daughter's battered rectum. Spying Annie from the corner of his eye, Collins leered at her as his sweet, angelic little girl remained impaled on his cock.

	"Collins told me you were watching him with his slut of a daughter," Forsythe said that night. "No doubt you want it there, too and will lift your skirts to any man you meet."

	"No sir."

	"Don't lie to me! Females are whores and must be kept full of cock to keep them from straying. That's how your sex is from the time that Eve copulated with the serpent. You'll get me in your ass when you are heavier with child and the doctor says your cunt can't be used. Until then..."

	Forsythe punctuated his sentence with a hard thrust of his cock into Annie's pussy. It was the second time tonight but Annie's back arched as she grunted from the shock of the penetration and then laid back to submit her duty.

	
As the months wore on, Annie's belly grew, making her wonder how her mother had managed it time and again while keeping house and watching over the other children. Her condition did nothing to halt the force and frequency of Forsythe's conjugal visits. On the contrary, seeing the girl's lithe frame grow round in the middle was a constant reminder of his potency. The only relief she had was that she eventually got big enough to where he couldn't lie on top of her, smothering her with his mass. But spending hours on her hands and knees on the bed wasn't all that pleasant, either.

	He also liked to play with Annie's breasts as they grew plumper with her pregnancy. They were still quite small, but Forsythe loved to play with them, tugging and squeezing them to Annie's discomfort. At the start of her third trimester, just when the doctor advised him to no longer have vaginal intercourse, Forsythe was delighted to see a small droplet of milk appear from one engorged little nipple. He played with her titlets a little longer, but couldn't get anything more from them.

	Undeterred from his pleasure, he had his underage wife on all fours and introduced her ass his to his prick. Annie's screams sheared through the house as her anus was pushed open. His first entry bruised her rectum as he forced his way inside. Her guts shifted and stretched - no easy task with her enlarged uterus pressing on her innards. Forsythe was determined to sink every inch of his length into the preteen's ass and Annie's vision blurred as she felt herself being opened deeper and deeper - far more than the man had reached in her pussy.

	With the child-bride's ass fully penetrated, Forsythe worked his prick with fury and force, punctuating every forward stroke with his balls as they slapped against the bald plumpness of her cuntlet. Annie's trim buttocks were raw and chaffed from the prick plunging between them and the wiry scratching of Forsythe's pubic hairs against them. She gasped some meaningless words when she felt the boiling surge of more jism lancing her colon and knew her husband wouldn't be satisfied with just one time.

	Forsythe began what would be his nightly ritual of anal sex at bedtime. After cumming, he would remain inside the eleven year-old, trying to milk her small, prematurely-filled breasts and rubbing his hands over her swollen belly until he grew hard again. Then he would repeat once or twice more before opting for sleep. The interludes during the night, in the morning and throughout the day continued.

	Blue Feather kept the girl supplied with plenty of salve for her aching bottom. Each morning, after a night's worth of buggery, there was little that Annie could do but to lie in bed while her husband's seed slowly spilled from her soiled bowels. Blue Feather would sit with her, brushing her hair and singing songs in her native tongue. On occasion, she would use more English words with the girl to explain something. Annie suspected that the Indian woman could speak English quite well, but cherished keeping this secret from the master of the house.

	Although she was frightened by the thought of actually giving birth - of letting this creature inside of her work its way out of her - Annie was also ready to be done. By the ninth month, the act of just standing was nearly impossible as her grossly expanded tummy pulled her forward. Her titlets were now the size of small cupcakes - still quite modest - but they could not contain the milk inside. Forsythe loved finding his little bride with white dribbles of the stuff trickling over the girth of her pregnant belly. He would often suck the girl dry; and act which would have been pleasurable had it not been for the way his mustache scratched her sensitive skin and the way he chomped on her titties.

	One morning, as Forsythe was hammering away at her ass, Annie felt her torso contact. The pain was blinding, but her cries went unnoticed as anything unusual as her dripping titlets and engorged belly swayed to the force of the man's thrusts. As Annie felt the flood of semen in her rectum, more wetness suddenly flooded from her cunt.

	"Blue Feather!" Forsythe roared when he saw the additional mess. "You've got work to do!"

	Annie didn't know what Blue Feather fed her by the spoonful. It tasted foul and put her in a delirium that spared her much of the pain and memories of the delivery. By nightfall, her head had cleared enough when her husband came into the room and undressed. She was exhausted and thought that he would spare her any torment tonight, but he pulled her hips up and drilled his prick into her ass. She hadn't had a chance to oil herself with Blue Feather's salve and the man's entry was incredibly painful. When he had sunk his full length into her, he paused and spoke.

	"I have a son," he informed her, leaving Annie out of the statement that should have begun with "we". "His name is Matthew. I can use your ass whenever I want and in a couple of weeks, I'll be able to use your cunt again so you can bear me more sons. It's your duty."

	Annie pressed her face against the bed, squeezing tears from her eyes as the sodomy began in earnest.

	
EPILOGUE

	It was Beverly's fourth birthday and she was very scared. Her papa was always angry with her because she wasn't a boy like her big brothers, Matt and Wyatt. He roughly carried her into his study and tore off her pretty dress, which made Beverly cry.

	"Shut up you slut!" Forsythe yelled. "It's time you learn how to be a whore in your ass. Sally got her cherry popped over four years ago and she's been whoring with her cunt ever since - Mr. Collins has seen to that." 

	Forsythe grew even harder at the thought of that little cutie. She'd been greasing dicks all through the state capital and then got herself pregnant with some rich Russian count or something. The man paid Collins handsomely for her and was now keeping her at some estate he owned in California. The last time Forsythe had seen her, she was stripped naked with her tummy getting quite round and her tiny breasts getting a bit plumper. She had pleasured her new owner, her father, and Forsythe with her mouth that night. By this time, the girl ought to be ready to drop her kid so the guy was probably corn-holing her ass, just like Forsythe and Collins used to do with her back in the day.

	A year ago, Collins had broken in another daughter's little rump. Ellie was her name; a wriggly tiny thing that Forsythe loved to have lashing about on his dick while he squeezed in and out of her snug rear passage. Of course, he'd let Collins have his way in Beverly's ass once she was properly skewered a few times by her daddy. Next year, Collins' youngest daughter, Annabelle, would turn four. She was a an exact copy of Sally with her pale skin, huge blue eyes, and white-blonde hair and Forsythe was sure that she would be as much fun as her big sisters. But for now, there was Beverly to train.

	"You've got to learn your trade, girl," he growled. "There are plenty of horny fucks who will ready for your pussy when you turn eight, too - or maybe I'll turn you over when you're seven. It may hurt like hell for you, but an even tighter snatch may get us more favors."

	Beverly flailed as her father lifted her up and tossed her facedown on his desk. His rough hands grappled her tiny buttocks and she squirmed when a spit-soaked finger pressed against her rear orifice.

	"No!" said a small voice from behind.

	Forsythe whirled around to find his oldest son, Matt, standing there and cradling the Winchester rifle in his arms. The gun looked absurdly large with the eight year-old's possession, but the boy could handle it surprisingly well. Forsythe snorted.

	"Come here, boy. It's time you learn what the weaker sex is for. If you can get your pecker up, you can have a swing at her too."

	"No!" Matt said, even more insistently as he aimed the gun at his father. "I don't like you hurting Mama and you aren't going to hurt Bevy."

	Forsythe turned crimson as he strode toward the boy.

	"That little bitch is my property and I will use her as I see fit! As for you, I'm gonna-"

	Forsythe was interrupted as the rifle bucked in his son's hands. He felt the pain of the bullet and looked down, feeling queerly proud of his son's aim. It was right in the heart and...

	Forsythe's mind blanked to darkness as he fell forward with a boneless thud.

	Annie raced to the house from the garden when she heard the gunshot. Despite his dominance over his wife, Forsythe had instinctively known not to try raping his daughter while Annie was within screaming distance. Once the act was done, it would be one more thing to beat his wife down emotionally and he could fuck Sally on the dining room table for all that it mattered.

	But the noise of the rifle carried farther than a little girl's cries and Annie came running. 
Blue Feather waited for the mistress of the house and silently pointed toward the study with a triumphant glint in her eye. It wouldn't be later before Annie would realize that the latch on the gun cabinet was still too high for Matt to reach - someone else would have had to help him. At twenty, Annie was a willowy young woman whose figure remained petite despite giving birth four times. (The last child, a boy, was stillborn.)

	In the study, Annie found Matt and Wyatt both hugging Beverly who for some reason was naked. To her joy (and to their father's confused displeasure), the little boys had always adored their baby sister and were fiercely protective of her. Annie's eyes narrowed when she saw her daughter's shredded dress on the floor.

	"Papa tried to hurt Bevy," Wyatt sobbed to his mother.

	Annie's gaze shifted to her husband who was lying facedown on the floor as a pool of blood expanded from beneath his still body. Douglas Forsythe wouldn't be hurting anyone anymore.

	Blue Feather motioned to one of the other Indian girls to usher the children from the room. Wyatt led his sister as the pair tightly held hands, but Matt refused to leave.

	"We'll have to make it look like an accident," Annie said to Blue Feather in Lakota.

	"I'll make sure he's left where the animals can chew on him overnight so no one can know how he died," the woman answered in the same language. "Maybe near the Collins' ranch and we can arrange an accident with Mr. Collins - let both of them be found the next day with their bones chewed."

	Annie's mind whirled with the implications. Claiming Jennifer was getting too old (at age twenty five) and had the gall to give him no more boys (but two more daughters), Eugene Collins had been making noises about divorcing her and getting a new young girl from the East to warm his bed. Jennifer had tearfully confided how Collins had already begun anally raping his second oldest daughter, Ellie, to prepare her to follow in little Sally's footsteps. The other girl, Annabelle, wouldn't be far behind.

	But could Blue Feather pull this off? She and Annie were quite close, with Annie protecting the older woman from her husband's wrath on more than one occasion. Annie always paid for those times most harshly in bed the following night, but had never wavered in her alliance with Blue Feather.

	Matt stood solemnly, holding the Winchester he had earlier dropped on the floor.

	"I did that to Papa," he said.

	It was then that Annie thought about the high latch on the gun cabinet that she had insisted on so that none of the children could open it. Only she and Forsythe could reach it. And Blue Feather.

	She looked at the other woman and although Blue Feather's expression was inscrutable, Annie knew. And she knew what needed to be done. Nodding to Blue Feather before turning to her son, she knelt down and drew him into her arms.

	"It's alright," she said as she stroked his hair. "You were only doing your duty."

	

madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm

























This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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