Copyright (c) 2018,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Thursday, February 01, 2018

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: gettin17.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com

story_codes: MM/g(10) Man/young girl, non-cons, cons

story_intro: As the sexual abuse from her stepfather gets more violent, Sandra learns of even further sordid plans he has for her. Forsaking her usual haunt with her friends on the hill outside the trailer park where customers prowl for fresh flesh, she confides in her adult neighbor and lover. He persuades her not to run away but there is still her larger problem of her stepfather. What to do that won't involve the police?


story_language: English





Getting Directions, Story 17

Written by madvlad


	For a man whose back landed him on permanent disability, Van was a medical wonder as it flexed in time without any hitch or pain as he rammed his cock into the little girl's hot, greasy rectum. His physical activity was a miracle - the kind that would likely land him on charges for welfare fraud. Sodomizing a ten year-old would get him even longer - and much worse from "a jury of his peers" once he was behind bars.

	But his stepdaughter wouldn't talk. No, she wouldn't dare. After all, who would keep a hot little whore like her satisfied if her stepdaddy's magnificent cock was locked away with the rest of him? Yep, Van and his package were a package deal.

	Sandra's guts, coated with Vaseline, tried to wring out his dick as pounded her with long thrusts that stopped when his crusty pubic hair mashed against the smooth, pert buns of her ass. That gorgeous little rear stood out so whitely against the golden tan of most of the rest of her body. Her blonde hair swayed to the beat of Van's buggering abuse as she was positioned on her hands in knees in front of him.

	Two huge thrusts made her yelp as he cruelly bruised her innards some more. Sandra's only relief was that this signaled that her stepfather was about to cum. He always liked getting into her as deeply as possible before injecting her with his steaming slime. Despite the number of times she had taken this, she could help shuddering as the man's foulness flooded her colon.

	Van, being Van, interpreted the involuntary reaction as pure pleasure.

	"You like getting your little whore ass filled with cream, don't you?" he rasped.

	"Yes Daddy. Your cream is so good," she replied tightly.

	"Yeah, it's so good that you'd better keep it in you when I pull out."

	That was a new twist, Sandra thought. Of course, Van's only imaginative ideas, aside from fraudulent medical claims, were how to inflict new variations of rape upon her. When the man's penis popped loose, she struggled to close her throbbing asshole and managed to do it while only a little semen dribbled out. For her transgression, she received a slap on one buttock; hard enough to nearly make her lose control and leak more from her bottom.

	Van eyed Sandra's sphincter. Despite the Vaseline he had used, it was still bright red and chaffed. Well, that's what she got for being a whore. As he manipulated his dick, it started to grow again and he pressed it against his stepdaughter's ass so she could feel his hardness.

	"That's right, baby," he gloated. "Your daddy's cock skills are only getting better and I'm ready to give you another fucking."

	Her mind reeling in disbelief over the man's quick recovery, Sandra managed to weakly say, "Thank you, Daddy."

	Van nodded in approval at her obedience. It wasn't skill so much as the black market potency pills he had acquired - stuff that made Viagra look like children's aspirin. This was good, not only for sinking his prick into his ten year-old stepdaughter but also for his upcoming business plans. 

	"You'd better keep in my cum in your ass, girl," he growled as he pushed his glans below her ass; between her legs against the soft, hairless bulge of her pussy. 

	His entry was violent, just as he intended. Sandra let out a cry as her preteen snatch was penetrated by her stepfather's hard meat. The narrow tunnel expanded abruptly and painfully before the girl could adjust to the adult member in her childish quim. Losing control of her anus, Sandra let more of Van's semen escape, earning her a slap across the head.

	"Ungrateful bitch," Van scolded, unable to put his heart in it. Of course Sandra didn't have a chance of holding his load in her ass. He didn't want her to. "I guess I'll just make sure that slut hole of yours stays corked."

	He had it hidden under the rumpled sheets. Finding it, he waved it in front of Sandra's face and she made a choking sound as she saw the butt plug. 

	It was a smaller one - one she had stuffed in her on occasion in the name of discipline. In truth, he liked watching her crawl around in discomfort as she vainly tried to take the thing out. Only with his eventual help was it yanked out so forcefully she dropped to the floor sobbing. One time, she had even bled a little which scared the hell out of her.

	"Daddy, please no!" she sobbed.

	"Oh yessss," Van hissed as he twisted the tip against the ten year-old's greased asshole. 

	"Aaahhhhnnnngghhhhhh," Sandra moaned as the thing was pushed into her already abused ass. 

	Then it occurred to her - Van had not pulled out of her cunny.

	"Daddy!" she screamed in genuine panic. "Not in both places at once! You gotta take your cock out of my pussy first!"

	"I aint gotta do nothing," Van countered. "I'm gonna break you right."

	Sandra howled as the butt plug was hammered home. For a brief moment, her anus seemed like it was about to rip apart, but then the plug was pushed inward and her aching orifice slammed shut behind the widest part, stopping until the narrow place between the plug and the base. For Sandra, the immediate pain in her ass was gone although now the plug was locked in place. 

	Then a new torment began as Van started fucking her straining little cunt. The plug was pushing in on her vaginal canal but still she had to stretch to take the pounding of meat there.

	"Daddy, it hurts so much," she wailed. "It really hurts!"

	"Get used to it, bitch," he grunted as he worked his prick in and out of the ten year-old's snug pussy. "Pretty soon, you'll be getting two cocks at once in you. Plenty of guys want to pay to fuck you and we'll do to at a time. And plenty more will pay to see the videos we make. Time for you to make me some good money after all of the years I supported you and your mama."

	In truth, Van had only moved in two years ago and married her mother a year later. The marriage was about ten months after he first started having sex with the then eight year-old girl. He had been sufficiently drunk the first time to fail to notice that Sandra wasn't a virgin. But she was so small and tight that it never occurred to him that he wasn't her first.

	As far as support, Van only seemed to use his disability pay for beer and cheap liquor and gadgets. Her mother supported them on the money from her job as a waitress and possibly a meth dealer (Sandra suspected the latter but couldn't be sure). One of Van's friends would pick him up (Van couldn't risk being seen driving with his "bad back") to take him to the city where he did Lord knows what with his friends. Apparently, she was now being discussed and she could only imagine what he had told them about her.

	With the plug lodged in the young girl's ass, Van drilled her prepubescent snatch good and hard like the famed whoremaster he was (you could just ask him). Sandra's arms had given out and how her face was pressed in the unwashed bedclothes as her plugged bottom and bald, plumbed twat were tilted upward for his carnal pleasure. His balls finally clenched and he pumped his jism into the ten year-old's belly.

	Sandra whimpered as his ejaculation soiled her. Then he slid his prick out of her before twisting and tugging on the plug until it came free. She cried a little again before rolling on her side. Her body twitched as she hiccupped and wept.

	"Those little slut holes can take a good stretching and snap back tight as you please," Van told her. "They'll do it when we double-fuck you. They always do. Or at least until you have a kid. I'll give you a few of 'em, I guess when you come of age. Will tell your mama it's the only way to keep you from whoring yourself out in the city. Of course, then your cunt won't be as good as it was before. But when your little babies get old enough, I'll start with their mouths and then their asses and then their cunts. Don't worry, I'll let you watch.

	In the meantime, though, my pals and me - we're gonna make you a porn star. Yes indeed. Of course, I'll have to practice with you. We'll do it again tonight after your mama leaves again. Now get your ass cleaned up. Just 'cause you're a slut and a whore don't mean you can go trailing cum everywhere."

	Sniffling, Sandra crawled (she didn't yet trust her legs) to the bathroom. Popping a beer, Van gave his penis a congratulatory pat. Shit, wouldn't that be something? Having Sandra pop out one or two more sluts like herself for their daddy to prong. 

	If this porn thing took off (and why wouldn't it?), maybe he'd make Sandra recruit some of her friends. Like that piglet, Chyna. He was dying to sink his meat into her plump ass. And there was that little kid who was often with Chyna - Mary Something. No, Marissa. Yeah. 

	She was yakking about going to kindergarten in the fall, so Van figured she was five. Was that old enough to fuck? Definitely in the mouth and, if the word he heard was true, in the ass. Little assholes could really stretch, even if they felt tighter than a pussy. Then of course there was that little cunt. Well, if Sandra wound up whelping him some little whores like herself, he ought to know when he could pop their cherries. Marissa would be a good test. 

	Shit, maybe in a year, he'd have that whole gaggle of Sandra's little friends who hung out on the hill fucking for his business and pleasure. Damn,  it was good to be him!

	Sandra was limping as she made her way through the trailer park, Once again, she didn't want to go to the hill and have her friends see her like this. She was sore and knew that would get better but the knowledge of what was coming threatened to crush her. 

	A face appeared; half of it normal and have of it a mass of scar tissue. But the whole thing was welcome as she fell into Ted's arms. The wounded veteran scooped her up and carried her into his trailer, making soothing noises as he laid her on the couch.

	"Please, I can't really do anything," she said in a voice she didn't quite recognize. "I'm just kind of sore and I..."

	"Just rest," Ted told her as he brushed her cheek with his hand. "I didn't bring you in here to do anything. You never have to do anything with me."

	Sandra laid there for some time, slowly getting her wits about her. She felt a little embarrassed for having been such a wreck in front of her friend and lover. She wouldn't take money from him, preferring their relationship to be different from the men she enjoyed (and who enjoyed her) when they cruised by the hill. Regaining some of her spark, she gave him a quirky smile.

	"What do you mean I don't have to do anything with you? You don't like it?"

	Ted blew out a breath in exasperation and a little humor. They were both damaged goods in some ways but all the stronger and wise beyond their years for it. Pity was something that neither of them would burden the other with.

	"We have to do something about your situation," he stated.

	"I have a plan," she replied. "I told you I was saving money, right?"

	"Yeah? Don't try to hire a hit man. They are usually cops."

	Sandra punched him on the arm.

	"I aint doing that. I'm running away. I was going to wait until I had a thousand dollars but I'm awfully close. I'll get by and will get to California."

	"Then what?"

	"I'll get rich and be famous."

	Ted stared at her. Yes, Sandra was savvy in many ways but she was still just ten and very unworldly. He could imagine several scenarios if she ran away and the best outcomes were only less horrible than the others. 

	"It's not as easy as it sounds," he warned, patting her hand.

	Sandra yanked her arm away and pouted. In truth, there were holes in her plan and she didn't know what to do about them. But admitting them wasn't an option.

	"Look," Ted continued. "I know a lot of guys - guys like me at the VA, fucked up in all kinds of ways. Or other guys who've been over in Iraq and the 'Stan. There are plenty of them in the city and places all around it like I am here. If you have to leave, one of them can take you in 'til we figure something out, okay? Just don't go taking off on your own."

	Sandra nodded and smiled, feeling some of the weight leaving her. She felt a little giddy for it; like having a celebration. But not with her shorts off, right now. It would hurt and there was more of that coming tonight. Still, she wanted to be naughty - it was a way of telling Van to go fuck himself, even if he couldn't hear it.

	Ted was wearing a pair of sweat shorts, which made it easy for her to pull them down enough to show his penis. The poor thing was limp but with him protesting mildly, she quickly got him to stand at attention like a proper soldier would. There were even scars here and she traced the tip of her tongue over them, remembering the pleasure they gave her when rubbing inside her wet and tight pussy. 

	Opening her mouth, she sucked in the head, working it like a lollipop by pulling a hard  vacuum and sweeping her tongue over it. Ted grunted and placed a light hand on her head in encouragement, not in demand. Sandra slowly bobbed her mouth up and down on him, bathing the few inches she took in before releasing him and giving him a teasing smile. 

	"I've been practicing something special," she said huskily. "One of the older girls here - she's in high school - gave me something to use and showed me how to do it. You wanna see?"

	"Actually, I was just getting into a good John Grisham novel before you came by, so how about a rain check?"

	She pouted at his teasing, making sure her plush red lips stuck way out. When he laughed, she gave him a saucy look before licking her lips.

	With a deep breath, she put her mouth on him again. Then she went down - very far. He knew his head had to be near the back of her mouth when she stopped for a moment. Breathing in and out once, she shifted a little and then went down some more. His glans brushed past her tonsils and then he felt a wet touch all around as he continued a little more.

	She was deep-throating him!

	Ted remembered the time near some shithole of a goat herding village in Afghanistan when some dickhead of a private had been fiddling with a grenade when the pin came out. Everyone went still as the metal clinked lightly against some pebbles like it was a harmless toy. It was Ted who calmly closed his hand around the older soldier's to make sure he didn't release the grenade handle. With his other hand, Ted had spider-walked his fingers until they found the pin (his eyes remaining glued to the grenade). 

	The pin was replaced and everyone breathed again for the first time in what seemed like an hour. 

	He felt the same way now, not moving at all while his entire member was caressed by the mouth and throat of a ten year-old girl. If he even twitched, there would be no explosion but he feared that all would be lost and Sandra would be frightened off of him.

	But she kept at it, moving slowly and deliberately so she could breathe. Also, the presence of his meat in her mouth made her salivate and she was swallowing that before each time swallowing the man's cock. The dildo her friend had taught her with had gone deeper but this was so much more satisfying. In defiance of Van's abuse, her cunny heated and moistened and she kneaded it through her shorts with one hand. 

	There was one more trick and it nearly happened automatically because of the pleasure in her crotch. It was a simple thing, really, When she had him in her throat, she hummed.

	The vibrations added to the passage of her throat sealing around his cock. Sandra moved even more slowly, torturing him with her oral arsenal. 

	"Gyuh!" Ted croaked as his testicles began their achingly perfect spasms.

	For a brief second, Sandra nearly panicked at the momentary swell of the penis in her throat. Then she felt the thick wads of liquid heat shooting down her throat. It was so different than having him cum in her mouth. There was the intense pulsing in her throat and mouth and then the sensation of his ejaculation warming her while she had no control over it. Her mind spun and she felt herself floating in wonder for a moment. With her hand clenching her vulva, she had a very small climax of her own - just enough to consider it a nice reward. 

	They said nothing afterward; comfortable with each other that the silence was not at all awkward. When Sandra finally did speak, she said she decided to go hang out with her friends for a while, after all. No business for her today, but she wanted to be out there, to be seen and not defeated.

	On the way, she stopped to gape at something she had never seen before - certainly not here at the Knobby Shoals Mobile Homes Estates. The dirt lot where there had been three decrepit (even by local standards) and abandoned trailer homes was now teeming with activity. 

	The old wrecks were gone and in their place a huge new mobile home was being assembled. As evidenced by the now-idling tractor trailers, the thing had been shipped here in two pieces. It was a double-wide and was now largely put together. Another, smaller truck was also parked nearby and men were toting lumber to build a small front porch. Sandra whistled at the sight of it all and wondered who would be there. Then she walked on to the hill where the new building was undoubtedly the topic of discussion and conjecture. 

	When Sandra was gone, Ted took a walk. He had heard about some new mobile home, a big one, being built in the community. While it wasn't of much importance to him, checking it out would be a break from the monotony of the trailer park. 

	Lost in his thoughts about Sandra's predicament, he was startled to see her trailer on the left. Was it accident he came this way or something in the subconscious. The front door rattle opened and Ted stepped back to peer from behind the corner of another trailer. 

	Whistling an off-key rendition of some honkytonk tune, Van stepped down the stacked cinderblocks that comprised the front steps and paused at the bottom as he patted his pocket. Pulling out his cell phone, he read something on it and chuckled. Then he started typing a response to the apparent text he must have received. 

	Acting on instinct, Ted strode quickly toward the man. He was just a step away when Van heard him approaching and started to look up from his phone. All he registered was a flesh-colored blur before Ted's fist impacted near his left eye. The phone dropped to the withered, yellowing grass, its current message incomplete. A moment later, its owner lay sprawled in a daze nearby. 

	Ted made to stomp on the man but Van was clearly out of it for a moment. He decided to wait so he could speak his piece to the beat of his foot before yet another idea came to him. His network of friends - the ones he had mentioned to Sandra - yeah, that would be better.

	Pulling out his own cell phone, he snapped a picture of Van before walking on and typing his text message. When Van regained his senses, he was alone with a throbbing face.

	Sandra was in a better mood of late the following morning as the girls were on the hill. The night she had dreaded never came to pass. When a bright pink Cadillac convertible with the top down approached, she got up and walked toward the road. It was a fancy car and an unfamiliar one. 

	Instead of stopping, it went past and then made a U-turn that sent up low clouds of dust. Then the car came back and stopped by Sandra. There had been women come to the hill before to "get directions" but this smiling blonde didn't seem like the type.

	"Hello there!" the woman said as she leaned a little over the top of the door. "Are you girls local?"

	"Yes we are," Sandra answered.

	"Wonderful!" the woman beamed from the leopard print-upholstered seat. The steering wheel on which her red lacquered nails danced had a pattern to match the seat. "I'm Louise Thibodeaux," she announced as she stuck out a hand.

	Sandra shook it and introduced herself before the woman scanned the other girls peering curiously at her.

	"Plenty of nice girls around," Louise remarked. "That's good - they'll be plenty of friends for my girl. Say 'hi', Dahlia."

	"Hi."

	Sandra hadn't noticed the little girl in the equally leopard-spotted back seat until she gave a shy grin and waved. She was as blonde as her mother (although her hair was not nearly as big) and looked to be around Marissa's age.

	"Isn't she a hoot?" Louise gushed. "A hootie and a cutie, that one is. Dahlia and I will be moving in as soon as our new place is ready. When we do, why don't some of your come around so we can all get to know each other. I've had enough of the big city for a while and I'm looking forward to getting back to my roots. Anyway, give it a couple of days and come around. Ciao."

	Gunning the gas, Louise and Dahlia roared  off in their pink and leopard caddy. 

	"Wow!" exclaimed Chyna, who had stepped next to Sandra at the tail end of the conversation with Marissa in tow. 

	"I want to be Dahlia's friend," Marissa stated.

	Sandra grinned and ruffled Marissa's hair as the other girls now gathered around.

	"What's she all about?" Anita wondered aloud as her dark eyes followed the trail of dust.

	"I don't know," Sandra said with a grin. "But I think things around here might get real interesting."

	His pals were clustered around him as he recited the tale. Pausing to sip from the beer that someone else had bought him, he continued his fabricated tale about being jumped by three black men the day before.

	"So the first two were out cold and the last nigger was on the ground, begging for mercy."

	"Aw, you didn't give him any, did you, Van?" a skinny guy named Alf inquired.

	"Shit no," Van scoffed. "I gave him a kick in the mouth that'll have him shitting out his teeth for a week."

	The men all laughed, ignoring the one solitary customer sitting at a table near the men's room who seemed equally uninterested in them. But Van was feeling a little better although his face with his eye nearly swelled shut still hurt like hell. It had been worse last night; so much so that he didn't feel up to giving Sandra the fucking she deserved.

	"We still on with your gal for next week?" Alf asked as he motioned the bartender to bring his best buddy, Van, a fresh cold one.

	"Damn straight - movie time," Van confirmed, drawing appreciative growls from his crew. He lifted the new bottle but then set it down on the bar. "I gotta drain the lizard first."

	With Van gone, there was an excited hum among his friends as they discussed the gang bangs that hot little blonde of Van's was going to provide. 

	Van was zipping his fly when he turned to catch a glimpse of the man who had been by himself as he came near. It would be all he could recall when he awoke a few minutes later after the man drove his fist into Van's jaw; dislodging an ill-maintained molar that went down his throat. Van would see it next when it was embedded in the new turd floating in the toilet the following day.

	Ex-corporal Ibanez flexed the fingers of his punching hand and he withdrew his phone from his pocket. He was moving pretty well these days on the prosthetic that had replaced his right leg below the knee - the shitbag on the floor hadn't even seen him until the last second. Ibanez took a picture of Van and then sent it in a reply to all in the group.

	In the text of his message, he only typed, "Two".


Copyright (c) 2018 madvlad

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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