Her Deepest Secret
by Beckie Dowd
(ND-136)


FOREWORD 

"Close your legs, my girl! Pretty soon you'll be opening them to the whole 
world. So you walk around without anything on under your robe, when you come 
to see your father. Don't you think that's a little bit sluttish?" he 
sneered. 

He was drunk, and the pretty blonde-haired sixteen year old girl was 
frightened. She had never seen her father like this before. 

"Daddy please! I don't know what you're talking about!" 

"Miss Smithe told me she caught you talking on the phone with a boy!" 

"I-I was!" 

"Who was it?" 

"It was just a boy! From school." 

"What was his name?" 

"I won't tell you!" she sobbed. She didn't want her father calling up 
Roger's parents and humiliating her by telling them that their son was not 
allowed to call her. 

He grabbed her and tore off her pink terry cloth robe. 

"What are you doing?" she shrieked terrified. 

She was doubled over, trying to hide her pink nakedness, but the round firm 
boobs slipped out from behind her arms. Her fuzzy golden patch glinted in 
the lamplight. 

"I'm going to give you a beating you're not going to forget for a long 
time," he said. 

He stared at her and thought of the sluttish models who came to see him, 
hoping to make him and pose for his magazines. He didn't want his daughter 
to turn out that way. 

He grabbed her and turned her over his knee. He started whipping her ass 
with the palm of his hand. Her soft but firm ass flesh slapped against his 
palm. 


CHAPTER ONE 

It was late at night. Little Samantha Clint had been in bed for hours 
already. But she was angry. She wanted to see her Daddy. 

Ann, her nursemaid, had told her that her Daddy was working late again 
tonight, but that he would see Samantha in the morning. 

But Samantha didn't want to wait until morning. 

The adorable little five year old got out of bed and crept down the hall of 
the huge, posh Clint mansion. She got past Ann's bedroom without waking her. 
Then she crawled past the huge circular staircase and went on to the East 
wing. 

She was thinking, maybe her Daddy had come home from work and forgotten to 
come see her. She wanted to see if he was home from work. 

Trailing her little blue blanket-her 'blankie'-behind her, and sucking her 
thumb while she fondled the satin edge of the blanket, the pretty 
golden-haired five year old made a pretty picture. The poor child had no 
mother. Her mother had died in.... Halfway down the hall to her father's 
suite of rooms she stopped. 

She heard voices! She heard her Daddy's voice! 

She was about to scream out 'Daddy!'-when she heard another voice. 

"All right, dear, take your clothes off and let me see what we've got to 
work with here. Let me see what you've got to offer us." 

"All right, Mr. Clint," a low seductive female voice said. 

Inside Mr. Clint's private bedroom, a statuesque brunette with smoldering 
dark eyes and a massive chest was sitting on the edge of the large brass bed 
and lifting her arms over her head to take off a beige knit sweater. 

Her large breasts rose as she lifted her arms and her hair rose up under the 
sweater. Then curling waves of hair tumbled back onto her neck and 
shoulders, and her breasts, cradled in a seductive shade of iron gray, also 
sank back down onto her chest. 

Barry Clint, a curly-haired, boyish-faced man of forty-three smiled and 
crossed his arms. He was leaning back against his antique fifteenth century 
bureau, with a large snifter of brandy in his hands. 

A small whip lay on top of the bureau. 

He said nothing as the Polish woman's breasts, in their bra, appeared. He 
had been able to judge that her breasts were good and large from her form as 
it appeared in her clothes. The color of her breasts and their actual shape, 
and the color and shape of her nipples were still to be determined. He had 
to wait. 

She went on undressing. 

Not hearing any more conversation, the little blonde five year old behind 
the door moved up closer to the door and peered through the crack. She could 
clearly see the woman undressing, and her Daddy leaning against the bureau. 

The woman, whose name was Marta, was not nervous, even though tonight was 
her big break, her first big chance. If she could get herself chosen for 
Larry Clint's magazine 'Rustler,' she would make some money, get the 
exposure she needed for her modeling career, maybe even get into acting-who 
knows? 

She went on undressing, unzipping the beige straight skirt with the slit up 
the other side. She had found out everything she could about Clint before 
coming this far. She had psyched him. She had wanted to appear different-not 
like all the other girls. And there were so many other girls. There was just 
so much pussy in this world. 

She had to find a way to make her looks different, bigger, tighter, better. 

Her strategy finally had been to come on cool. Real cool. 

like wearing those toned down clothes and colors-beige, and iron-gray. 

She thought the iron-gray lingerie were going to make her or break her and 
she was counting on it to make her. She slid out of her skirt now. 

She was sitting on the edge of the brass bed. Her round firm thighs, long 
and slim, like loaves of bread, were striped by her iron-gray garters. She 
wore clear stockings to show off her incredible legs. He was looking at her. 

"Go on...," he said. 

She had on a pair of iron-gray panties, which weren't really more than a 
G-string. The G-string bundle was really puffed outwardly between her legs. 
She had washed and curled and puffed her pussy hair to make her bundle stand 
out like that. 

Now she stood up and picked up the iron-gray corset she had laid out on the 
bed. Sticking her pointed tongue out between her bright red lips she pouted 
at Mr. Clint and smiled and then strapped the corset tightly around the 
exotic firm flesh of her waist. Now she was wearing bra, corset, G-string, 
garter belt and stockings. 

Now for her strip tease. 

She unhooked the garter belt and let it fall to the floor. 

Then she attached the tops of her stockings to the garters hanging from the 
corset. She had had this corset especially made for her. It squeezed her 
waist in tight and emphasized the hefty shape of her hips. It fastened in 
front with twenty tiny mother-of-pearl buttons. Now she reached behind her 
for the clasp of her D-sized brassiere. 

She unclasped it and her bosom sagged a little. 

Now she peeled her brassiere off. 

The tits, hanging down over the tight buttoned corset, elicited a gasp even 
from the jaded eye of Larry Clint. Her tits were exceptional. 

They pointed downwards, as if to the curled bundle inside her G-string. The 
aura of her nipples were pink and her nipples themselves were pink and hard. 

She was excited from undressing in front of this man who held so much 
powerso much power over her life and career. It excited her to strip naked 
in front of a powerful, masculine male. It made her little pink nipples get 
hard as they cascaded out of her warm bra cups. Her skin was a dark tanned 
color and the pink of her nipples showed up beautifully against it. Now it 
was time for the final move. 

She stood up and then turned her back to him. She was wearing high heels of 
a silver iron-gray-very classy. The high heels pushed her ass up. The 
G-string was hidden in the bulge of her ass crack from behind. The pert 
little corset ended in a frill of iron-gray just at the top of the bulge of 
her ass cheeks. 

What Larry Clint saw from behind was her long slender fingers and 
fingernails-pared-creeping around to her ass cheeks. She was plucking the 
G-string from out of her ass crack and peered around suddenly. Now she was 
pulling the bundle of fabric down over her pussy bundle, slowly revealing 
the puffed and curled dark pussy hair. 

Suddenly her full pussy bush bloomed forth. 

Marta dropped her little panties on the floor. She stood, full-blown, in 
front of Larry Clint who stared at her clinically. His face was 
expressionless. 

But he was thinking: Not bad. Not bad at all. 

She wore only the corset and the stockings and shoes now. 

Her tits cascaded down over the ruffled trim of the corset and her pussy 
bush bloomed out from underneath it. Her cute pert ass buns stuck out 
behind. 

"Show me some cheesecake, honey," Clint said, sipping his brandy. 

Marta smiled. 

She turned her back to him again and put one leg up suddenly on the shining 
brass rail of the bed. Her ass cheeks were parted now. 

The she bent over. 

There it was. Clint could see, her soft stuff. Marta was scared now. She 
knew she wasn't wet. 

He couldn't see her put her hands to her mouth. She licked her fingertips 
and seductively put her fingertips to her cunt. She pretended to be 
pretending to be so hot she couldn't help but touch herself but actually she 
was quickly trying to spread her saliva around so her cunt would look wet 
and shiny. 

Larry Clint knew that trick. He saw what she was doing. 

That was one strike against her, he thought as he sipped his drink. 

"I'd like to see something from the front, honey," he said casually. 

Marta stood up and looked at the brass railing of the bed. 

Suddenly, impulsively, she climbed up on the brass railing and wrapped her 
legs around it. Her legs were spread wide open. There was a big brass ball 
in the middle of the curving railing. The way she sat, her cunt, open and 
shining and wet, sat right beside the big brass ball suggestively. It was a 
nice touch, even Clint had to admit. 

"Try sitting on top of the ball," he said on impulse. 

It wasn't the kind of shot he thought would work for 'Rustler,' but he had a 
sudden desire to see this stately, and almost haughty beauty try to balance 
herself on top of the big brass ball. She looked a little confused, which 
was good. 

He liked to keep them guessing. He hated broads who were so fucking 
cocksure. 

She tried to raise herself up, wrapping her legs firmly around the brass 
bars. She had been a medal-winning figure skater in her native Poland, and 
so her legs were strong and her balance was good. But still, it was 
humiliating-here she was a grown woman, reduced to trying to make her living 
balancing her cunt just above this publisher's brass ball. Still, she had to 
try to do it. It could mean everything to her. 

She managed to do it. She was holding herself suspended on the railing of 
the bed, her cunt hovering over the big brass ball. It looked fantastic. 

Clint could look at her cunt and wonder if she could get the big brass ball 
up inside her. It might be a good shot for the magazine after all. It would 
sure get the readers wondering too. He had another idea. He said: 

"Can you get it up you, honey?" 

"What?" said the nervous brunette. She had a class cunt, she thought. Why 
did he keep making these asinine suggestions that seemed designed to make a 
fool of her. 

"The ball, honey. Sit on it. I'd like to see what it looks like going up 
your cunt." 

She inhaled and calmed herself. 

"Yes, Mr. Clint." 

She lowered herself, without losing her balance, onto the brass ball. The 
cold smooth surface of the ball made contact with the warm soft curves of 
her moist pussy. The cold surface sent chills through her pussy meat. Now 
she was getting hot. It was kind of sexy to have this big ball pushing 
against her aroused mound. 

When her cunt touched the ball, Clint felt an electric throb go through his 
prick. 

This girl was all right!-and he was hard. 

He wanted to have her. 

Half the ball went in her cunt. He wanted her to take the whole thing. 

"Stick it all in honey," he whispered putting down his drink. 

Marta had seen that his dick was hard in his pants. She wanted to cry with 
relief and with joy. She had turned him on. Of course, that guaranteed 
nothing as far as work. But still, it must count for something, she prayed. 

She eased herself down on the ball. It was slowly being enveloped by her 
soft pussy. She felt a little ridiculous and she smiled embarrassedly. 

He smiled back but his smile was one of pleasure. 

"You look good, Marta," he said. 

"Thank you, Mr. Clint," she said weakly, wondering if she could come up off 
the brass ball now. Her toes were beginning to ache and so were her thighs 
from grasping at the brass bars to balance herself. Her pussy was throbbing 
too. 

From gripping the ball so tight. 

She started to rise up off it. 

"Wait a minute Marta. What are you doing? 

Stay where you are. And see if you can help me with my fly here. Could you 
unzip it for me-with your toes?" 

She stared at him. She had heard he was kinky, but this was really weird. 

Gritting her teeth, tensing up on the muscles in her cunt, she gripped the 
bar with her hands as she slowly unwrapped her legs from the bars and 
stretched her toes out to his fly. He had come right up to her and stood 
before her. 

She had also heard about Clint's dick. A lot about it. 

It was a record size-thirteen inches. 

She could see the big tool hanging down his pants. It looked like a whopper 
all right. That was another test she would have to try and pass. 

"It's going to be hard, Mr. Clint, since I'm wearing stockings and shoes." 

"Then just rub it, Marta, I love the way you look up there, on my bed, 
knowing that big brass ball is up your sweet little pussy. I'll never be 
able to look at that ball again without thinking of you." He was making 
pussy-talk now. 

But the way he said it made her know that many girls had balanced on top of 
his brass bed with this big brass ball up their cunts. He probably told 
every girl she was the first. She felt humiliated now, as she tried to hide 
it and caress his long dick, through his pants, with her pretty and 
red-painted toes. 

Suddenly she lost her balance. 

She fell backwards onto the bed, the big brass ball popping out of her cunt 
with a sucking sound. Larry Clint laughed loud and heartily. 

Marta was burning with embarrassment on the bed. 

Her pussy was burning too, from the stimulation of having that big round 
smooth ball up her, and now that her pussy was empty it was throbbing to be 
filled again. 

The words came out of her mouth before she could stop herself. 

"You bastard." She whispered it, or hissed it. 

She hoped he hadn't heard. But he heard all right. 

"What's that Marta? What did you say?" He reached behind him for the little 
riding crop. "I hope you didn't mind my little joke. It was all in good fun, 
and you did look so cute up there, trying to balance on top of that ball." 

He laughed some more. 

"Bastard," she whispered again, unused to being laughed at and humiliated by 
a man. Most men would give an arm and a leg just to be alone with her in a 
bedroom and to have her display her body to them. She demanded a high price, 
and here she was showing it, offering it to him for free. And he was 
laughing at her? 

"Marta, better watch yourself. I might decide you need a little whipping on 
that pert little behind of yours, if you don't watch your language. I don't 
like to be called a bastard, even if I am one. You will humor me, won't 
you?" 

She controlled her mood. 

"Yes, of course, Mr. Clint. Is there anything I can ... do for you?" 

She was rolling on the bed, her silky dark brown hair flashing with auburn 
tints, her big tits wobbling from side to side, her cunt juicing between her 
legs. 

"Take my cock out, Marta." 

She bent her knees and lovingly opened his fly and sank both her hands into 
his pants in search of his big dipstick. She had to haul it up the side of 
his trouser leg and bring it out into the light of day. 

Then it was out, and pointing at her. She looked up at him and then put her 
lips around it. She started tickling the tip of his penis with her tongue 
and flicking her tongue down around the shaft. She was curling her 
fingertips through his perfumed cock patch. And sucking on Larry Clint's 
cock. He was a big boy all right. 

She could barely go all the way down on him. In fact she couldn't, and she 
knew she couldn't. She was afraid he would realize that she couldn't too. 

"Marta, could you please go down on it a little farther," Larry said, trying 
to be patient with this Polish girl. A thousand Polish jokes kept popping 
into his head. 

She smiled bravely and tried to push his thirteen inches farther down into 
her throat, but they just wouldn't go. She gagged once and froze with fear. 

He heard her gag though. He smiled and pulled his dick out of her throat. 

It was dripping with her saliva-like tiny drops of pearls. 

She was curled up on the bed now, crying. 

"It's all right, don't cry, Marta. Lots of girls can't go all the way down 
on me. I am awfully big, and you just don't have a very big throat. It's all 
right." 

"I tried, Mr. Clint, I really did, I tried!" she sobbed. 

Fortunately she was wearing waterproof make-up so at least her make-up 
didn't run. 

She rolled over on her stomach to hide her face in shame. 

She presented to Mr. Clint her perfect pair of trim, white, rounded 
buttocks, rolling out from under the fringe of her corset. 

Larry Clint couldn't resist. He swatted her ass cheeks with his riding crop. 

She felt the first few swats which were hard and stinging before she cried 
out. 

"Ow! What are you doing? Ow!" 

But the stinging swats of the crop kept coming. 

He was making her pert firm ass bright red. 

She realized this must be another manifestation of his kinkiness and she 
gripped the silky bedquilt and her big boobs poked out from underneath her. 
She tried to arch her ass still higher so as to present him with an even 
more adorable pair of ass cheeks to swat, but she was biting her lips to 
endure the pain. 

His cock was now almost standing up straight-a difficult feat for him since 
his prick was so big and heavy that when it got erect it usually just 
pointed down. But swatting her ass cheeks had made him really excited. His 
prick nosed into her ass cheeks. 

She wanted to cry from joy again. She spread her legs, reached down to her 
ass cheeks and spread them. The head of his penis was nosing into her ass 
hole, but that was not where Larry Clint wanted it to go. Not this time. 

He pushed the head of his penis lower and the silky nose of his penis found 
her wet cunt. His penis nosed right in. Marta groaned with pleasure and 
Larry Clint's noises were gross. His penis was sliding down her chute like a 
knife into butter. 

He jumped up on top of her buttocks on the bed. His fingers reached for her 
boobs bulging out from under her body, and he grabbed two handfuls and 
squeezed them while he nosed his large penis in and out of her melting honey 
pot. 

She raised up on her arms so that her boobs dangled deliciously. 

Her cunt was like a pool of melted butter. The ass-stinging whipping he had 
given her had made her ass hot and the heat had melted right through to her 
pussy. 

So when he suddenly plunged his knife in her, it was like finding water 
after being in a desert. His prick plunged in her, juicing her electrically. 

Almost immediately she began to come-she couldn't help it. 

Her cunt grabbed a hold of his pole and she squeezed and squeezed and 
squeezed. She couldn't let go, not for an instant. His jerking prick was 
poling into her and it felt so good!! ! She started to moan with pleasure. 

 ... But it wasn't so good for Larry. His prick was only about two-thirds of 
the way up her cunt. While he appreciated a good tight fuck, this girl was 
really short, that is her love canal was short and she just couldn't take 
all of him. 

His balls dangled in the air as he tried to thrust his cock in to the hilt. 

"Hey, big boy, not so hard!" she murmured, trying to stay sexy. He was 
really knocking her up. She didn't like it. She was losing concentration of 
her own orgasm. 

Disgustedly he pulled his prick out of her slurping cunt and his cock 
dangled over her body, dripping a slight ooze down onto her corset. She 
rolled away from his dripping cock, terrified. Did he know how much this 
corset cost? 

"Look, honey, just suck my cock off, will you? Surely you can do that?" 

Marta felt like crying! Everything kept turning out wrong. Starting off good 
and turning out wrong. It was the story of her life. She felt miserable. 

She came towards him on the bed, her big boobs hanging. 

She opened her mouth and tried to suck off his cock, but she had the same 
problem of not being able to get his dick all the way down her throat. 

She had to resort to hand work. She wrapped her hands around the base of his 
cock and sucked off the top of his cock. Her tongue was really good the way 
it slithered around the top of his dick and stretched underneath. 

But she just couldn't give a complete quality blow job. 

Finally she managed to bring him off through the syncopated jerking of her 
hand on the base of his prick and her mouth jumping all over the top of his 
prick. 

His cock jerked and spasmed in her mouth and then she was tasting Larry 
Clint's hot sweet sperm, sucking it down her throat, drinking, sucking, 
smiling. 

But even her smile didn't seem genuine to him. He could tell that she was 
miserable and just trying to appear happy. He guessed she knew she had blown 
her one big chance. 

"Thanks dear, you can get dressed now," he told her, zipping his cock back 
in his pants and retreating back to his brandy on the sidebar. Sitting there 
he just watched her. 

She stared at him miserably and then took up her corset. Her boobs flopped 
miserably down over her chest. She hustled them back into her bra. 

She was biting her lip to keep the tears from spilling out over her eyes 
right in front of him. He called her a cab. She was all dressed when it 
came. 

When little Samantha heard her father call a cab on the phone she knew it 
was time for her to beat a hasty retreat to her own wing of the mansion and 
her little bed. She didn't understand all that she had seen. 

Hardly any of it. All she knew was that her father had lied to her. 

He said he had to work late. She didn't think that what he was doing was 
working. She didn't understand yet about what kind of work her father did, 
about what kind of magazine he owned. The next morning at breakfast she was 
being real bad. 

 ... Ann, the nursemaid, almost lost her temper when little Samantha threw 
her oatmeal on the floor, and then threw a temper tantrum. She wanted to see 
her father. 

"I told you! He's still asleep. He was working late last night! What did you 
have to go and throw your oatmeal on the floor for? Now I have to clean it 
up!" 

"I don't care!" the furious little girl screamed. 

Sitting in her high chair she watched her maid go down on her knees to wipe 
up the oatmeal mess. Samantha took aim and let one of her little shoes fly 
into the maid's ass. Ann screamed and was kicked over. She stood up in a 
fury. 

"Don't-you-ever-do-that-again!" she screamed and she raised her hand and 
slapped the little five year old on her cheek. 

Mr. Clint had just appeared in the door and he saw the slap. 

Samantha let out a howl. The blood was rushing to her cheek. 

Mr. Clint stepped in. "Don't you ever hit my daughter again. You're fired," 
he said summarily to the surprised nursemaid. 

"Oh, sir! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean ... It's just that she must learn ... 
" 

"That will be all, Miss Portnoy." 

"Yes, sir." Ann hurried away to pack her bags. 

Father lifted his daughter out of her little high chair now and cuddled her 
to him. His daughter was his pride and joy. He would do anything for her. 
And one thing he would not tolerate was hired help laying a hand on her. 

A new nursemaid was hired the very same day. 

And so it was. Samantha grew up, in the care of nursemaids and tutors. 

She grew into a lovely child, with golden blonde hair, blue eyes, and a 
sweet smile. She had a terrible temper, however, that would erupt, whenever 
she was crossed into blind hysterical rages. Her maids, and tutors and the 
housekeeper all knew about Miss Samantha's temper, but they also knew she 
could be a sweet girl, when things were going her way. They also knew that 
she really loved only one person in her life, besides herself. 

That was her father. 

She would remember the housekeeper's nephew's birthday, and the birthdays of 
all the hired help. And she might seem to be very affectionate with them, 
when she was in a good mood. But she really only loved her father, outside 
of herself. 

In fact, she grew up worshipping him. 

None of his magazines were allowed in the Clint mansion. Larry Clint was 
that kind of man who kept a double standard close to his heart. 

On the one hand, he had made his fortune and reputation, selling magazines 
in which nubile young girls paraded themselves before the camera, and before 
the general public in the lewdest of poses and manners. And Clint had to 
admit that he thought it was healthy for men to get aroused by looking at 
such material of such girls in such poses. 

But when it came to his daughter, he felt differently. 

He didn't want her exposed to the kinds of women that he knew, and he didn't 
want her looking at pornographic material. Secretly, deep inside himself, 
Larry Clint felt that there were two kinds of women in this world: 

There were the sluts who would sell a peep of their cunts-sluts who were in 
love with their own images more than anything else. 

And then there were the mothers. He had been married to a mother. A woman 
who was kindly, saintly almost with patience, who was selfless and virtuous. 

This was the kind of woman he was determined his little Samantha would be. 

He didn't know his daughter very well. 

He only saw her on rare occasions, when he had time for her, when his work 
didn't demand him. For he devoted himself to his magazine and the empire he 
had founded on it. He ran the whole show almost single-handedly. He was 
involved in every stage of the magazine from choosing the girls to 
production of the type. 

Whenever he could give some of his time to Samantha, he was delighted with 
her. But that was only because when she was with him she was on her best 
behavior. Plus her father always gave her everything she wanted so she had 
no reason to get mad and throw a temper tantrum as she did with the hired 
help. 

When she was thirteen he threw the biggest and most elaborate birthday party 
that anyone had ever seen. She had a few friends from the private school 
where she was now going and they were each and every one picked up in the 
limousine and brought to the Clint mansion. Each kid received a gold ring to 
commemorate Samantha's thirteenth birthday and there was a huge feast and 
toys and games and presents. 

And Samantha was the happiest little girl in the world. 

But after her birthday party, when she realized it was back to life as an 
ordinary little girl, just going to school, coming home afterwards-as her 
father was afraid of her being kidnapped and made her come home in a 
limousine directly after school, she felt very depressed. She realized that 
her father only spent time with her when it was convenient for him. She 
realized that his work was more important to him than she was. And she knew 
what his work was. He hadn't been able to deceive her. 

Since that time when she was five, and got a sort of notion that his work 
was kind of funny, she had found out on her own about his magazine. 

Although all the employees of 'Rustler' magazine were strictly forbidden to 
talk about the magazine and its contents when they came to the Clint mansion 
and were with Samantha, she could tell by certain hints dropped, certain 
innuendos and smiles, that it was something she wasn't supposed to know 
about. 

But she never did see a copy of it until one of the housekeeper's nephews 
showed her a copy in the tool shed out behind the kitchen. 

He was a well developed Mexican boy and he used to play with her when she 
was a little girl. She had always liked Manuel. He used to ride her around 
on his shoulders. 

But when she grew bigger, he was always smiling at her and talking about how 
she was her Daddy's little girl, adding such a funny accent to it that she 
asked him one day what he meant when he said that. She was twelve at the 
time. 

Manuel had said, "Come out here, I show you." 

In the tool shed, sitting on the seat of the old bike she had outgrown, with 
Manuel standing over her, his sleek black hair falling across his forehead, 
she could feel his warm breath against her cheek. He had placed a magazine 
on her lap and said: 

"Here. That's it. Take a look at it." 

Her fingers trembling, to have a copy of her father's own magazine in her 
hands. She tried to be cool. Manuel knew she had never seen a copy of it, 
though she had refused to admit it. She pretended she had seen it many 
times. 

She saw her father's name on the masthead, inside the magazine, and her 
heart glowed with pride. She had passed quickly over the cover. 

The cover showed a girl in a black nightie that barely covered her ass, 
looking over her shoulder, with a big smile on her mouth. 

She started flipping pages. She pretended to be interested in the articles. 
She wanted to show Manuel that she wanted to know what was written in her 
father's magazine. 

"No, don't look at that part. That's not the important stuff. "Here, look at 
this," Manuel said and he flicked to the middle of the magazine. A big 
glossy color photo of the girl on the cover was suddenly staring her in the 
face. 

The girl's nightie was now off and she had nothing on but a pair of black 
stockings. Her fingers were sunk deep into her cunt, which she was pulling 
open and exposing. She had that same big smile. Samantha stared, and her 
little chest heaved. 

Sometimes at school she had heard whispered mentions of 'what her father 
did.' 

But all the children at the school had been requested by the teachers, at 
Mr. Clint's urging, not to discuss his magazine. 

But now she knew. Now it was undisguisable. 

She knew a little about sex. That girls were different than boys, that boys 
had cocks that they put up girls, that girls could get pregnant, all that. 

But this.... 

"You're going to have a nice pink cunty like that yourself someday too. 
Maybe you'll be in your father's magazine like these girls?" Manuel 
leeringly suggested. 

She threw down the magazine and ran back into the house crying. She refused 
to talk to him any more, and she arranged it so she had a huge fight with 
his aunt, the housekeeper, and she got the housekeeper fired. Manuel never 
came on the Clint grounds again. But Samantha, from that time on, was not in 
the dark about her father's occupation, though her father was in the dark 
about his own daughter's nature. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

When she was sixteen, the rebellious side of her nature started to show. 

She got turned on to marijuana at school, and that seemed to do it. 

All her life, her father's word had been law to her. She knew that he 
expected her to stay a virgin until she married, and that she was expected 
to come out, as a debutante when she was eighteen, and then marry a suitable 
young man whom her father approved of. But when she was sixteen and started 
smoking dope in the field house with her friends, she started to feel the 
little itchings and urgings of sex. 

Unknown to her father, she had a boyfriend. . 

His name was Roger Nutley, and he was the son of a wealthy rock producer. 
Roger laughed at Samantha a lot and made fun of her and what he called her 
crazy values. 

"I have to be a virgin until I'm married," he mimicked her. 

She looked piqued. "Well, what's wrong with that?" she asked. They were 
sitting on a bench out behind the old field house. It was spring. She often 
came out here to watch him working out. He was on the track team. His school 
often held dances with her school, so girls could get to know some boys. 

The only thing was, girls got to know boys a lot better than the school 
officials intended. 

"Well, what if you never get married," Roger pointed out, passing her the 
joint. He was wearing his sweaty running togs and bright blue running shoes. 

His forehead was sweaty and his brown eyes were bright. 

He and Samantha had never done anything. She just hung out around the field 
when he worked out and then they usually sat and talked and smoked together 
afterwards. He was a year ahead of her. He thought she was cute, but awfully 
backwards. 

"Well of course I'll get married," she said indignantly. He seemed to be 
insinuating that, with her golden blonde hair, sweet blue eyes, peaches and 
cream skin, and her father's wealth, that no one would want her. 

"But what if you don't? Does that mean you'd stay a virgin for the rest of 
your life?" He thought vaguely about putting his hands around her back and 
cupping one hand over the cute swell of flesh that was her left tit. She was 
wearing a tight pink T-shirt. 

But he knew she'd have a fit if he tried that. 

He laughed, "You know it's really funny. You being the daughter of Larry 
Clint and all, having these strange ideas about virginity." 

"They're not strange. It's what my father believes too." 

"What? Are you kidding me? You mean you want me to believe that your father 
believes a girl should stay a virgin until she gets married?" 

Samantha felt embarrassed. "Yes, he does." 

Roger hooted. "Boy! That is the funniest thing I've ever heard." 

"The stuff in his magazine," Samantha said defensively, "he just does that 
because that's what people want. Men. That's what men buy. 

But my father doesn't really believe that girls should ... should act that 
way." 

She took the joint with dignity. 

She didn't really know what her father thought. 

But she knew what he expected of her. 

Roger got up and started stretching out his leg muscles, isometrically, 
pushing against the bench Samantha was sitting on. She looked down. 

She looked at his thighs. They looked like thick ropes entwined about each 
other. She could see the way his muscles were strung, underneath his tanned 
skin. Her eyes slipped up once to look at the way his trim running shorts 
folded around his crotch and then she looked quickly away. She shouldn't 
think about such things. 

Roger stretched out his other leg and then said: 

"Well, it's been nice talking to you, again, Samantha. See you around." 

He started walking away. 

"Wait a minute!" she cried out running after him and catching up with him. 
He kept walking and she walked with him, clutching her purse and books to 
her chest. 

"Don't go away yet. Roger you know, I really like you. I'd ... I'd like to 
give you my phone number. Maybe you could call me up sometime." 

Roger took out a piece of paper and jotted down her phone number and handed 
it to her. 

He looked at her dubiously and said, "You know, I'm not a kid, Samantha, I 
don't call girls up just to pass the time." 

She didn't know exactly what he meant by that, but she saw he did stick the 
number in the pocket of his shirt. Then he took off, running down the track. 

"Call me!" she called after him. 

She turned around and went back to the school, which was about a quarter of 
a mile down the road. She was supposed to be in choir practice now. In fact 
she had joined the choir just so she could have a reason for staying around 
school past the hours school let out. Leonard, their chauffeur came to pick 
her up every day after school. She got back just as school was letting out. 

She went through the school and came down the front steps, and there was 
Leonard waiting in the black limo for her. She climbed in, feeling somewhat 
like a prisoner. She sometimes wished she could take the bus home like the 
other kids. 

"How was your day today, Miss Samantha?" Leonard, a tough black man of 
twenty who came from the streets of Harlem, asked. He was Samantha's 
bodyguard too. 

"What's it you, you?" she said angrily, biting her lip. She saw Roger come 
running around the front of the school and link arms with another girl who 
ran up to him. 

"Hurry up! Get this stupid bus the hell out of here!" she snapped to 
Leonard. 

He was used to her commands, and bitchy manner. 

"Yes, ma'am!" he merely said. Mr. Clint paid him well, real well, to put up 
with his bitchy daughter. But if she had been a black sister, he would have 
put an end to her Up real soon. As it was, he calmly drove her home. 

He watched her little butt in tight white pants, twinkle up the steps of the 
mansion and he thought to himself that one day, that little butt, attached 
to her big mouth, was going to get that cute little girl into a whole mess 
of trouble. 

From the moment she got home, inside her own wing, Samantha started hoping 
Roger would call. She didn't know why, but it seemed more important to her 
than anything else in the world. She thought she would kill herself if he 
didn't call. 

Her father was home for dinner tonight. 

They ate in the dining room, at a long dining table of varnished mahogany. 
He sat at the head of the table and she sat at his right side. 

"My little right hand," he often affectionately called her. 

"How was school today honey pie," he asked her as the servant served them 
roast duckling from a silver dish. 

"Fine," she said briefly. 

"Are you still having that trouble with math?" 

"No," she said briefly. "I don't want any," she said to the servant. 

"You don't want any roast duckling? What's the matter darling, are you ill?" 

"No." 

"Then what's the matter." 

"Nothing." 

He waved the servant away. "Samantha, stop answering me in monosyllables and 
tell me what is the matter with you. I thought roast duckling was one of 
your favorites." 

"I'm just not hungry! Can't you understand that!" she sneered at him. 

Never in her whole life had she ever spoken to her father that way. But all 
she could think about was Roger and the way he had laughed at ther ideas, 
and how he had gone up to that other girl, and how he wasn't going to call 
her. She was sure of it. All her father's money and power were not going to 
make Roger call her tonight. 

"Samantha! Don't talk to me in that tone of voice." 

Larry Clint was really shocked. He thought for a moment she might really be 
ill but when he put his hand out to feel her forehead she quickly pulled 
away as if she loathed the touch of his hand. He put his knife and fork down 
and looked at her severely. 

"I don't know what's gotten into you young lady, but we'll get to the bottom 
of this matter. I'll ask Miss Smithe." 

Miss Smithe was the latest of Samantha's keepers, a young woman with a 
severe face and nature nonetheless, who was supposed to see to it that 
Samantha got her homework done and went to bed on time, and kept her company 
at dinner when Mr. Clint was not eating at home. Samantha hated Miss Smithe. 
She hated her father. She hated everyone-at the mansion. 

"Don't call that stupid cunt. She doesn't know anything ... " 

But before she could finish her sentence, Clint's hand came down hard across 
Samantha's face. Her lip started to bleed. Tears sprang to Samantha's eyes. 

She held her napkin to her lip and it filled with blood. 

"What'dya have to go and do that for?" she cried. 

"I don't ever want to her such language on your lips again," Clint hissed in 
his daughter's face. He didn't even know where she heard such language. 
Never in this house certainly. He felt sick, disgusted. He had lost his 
appetite too, now. 

He said to his golden-haired daughter, "Go to your room." 

She got up and left. 

She went straight to her room which was all done in pink and white, and sat 
down on her huge four-postered canopied bed, all done in pink. 

She stared at the little pink princess phone, thinking: Call, Roger! Please 
call. 

Then the telephone rang. 

She stared at it for a few seconds in disbelief. 

The she ran to it and picked it up, her heart pounding. 

"Hello!" she said loudly. "Hello, Samantha?" It was Roger. 

"Yes, who is this?" she said coolly, though she knew who it was. 

"This is Roger. How are you?" 

"Oh, just fine, I-I'm really glad you called," she admitted. 

"Are you?" 

"Yes, I thought you wouldn't. That is, I mean I hoped you would. But I 
thought you hated me." She cuddled up on her pink bed happily, relaxing. It 
was so nice to have a boy call her up on the phone, just like the other 
girls had boys call them up. Now she would have something to talk about in 
school. 

As they talked, about school and their friends, an image of Roger as he 
pushed the bench, stretching his leg muscles, came into her mind. 

She recalled the slight glimpse she had gotten of the way his running shorts 
were pushed out at his crotch. She had never seen a male naked, at least not 
that she could remember. She had seen pictures so she knew what to expect, 
but she wondered what Roger would look like naked. She wondered if she would 
ever see him naked. 

She felt an itching at her crotch and she lay her hands over the crotch to 
the little white shorts she had changed into when she got home from school. 

The warmth of her hands cupped against her crotch soothed the itching 
momentarily and she went on happily chatting with her 'boyfriend.' 

"Why did you think I hated you, Samantha? I don't hate you, I like you." 

"Do you really?" 

Just then Samantha thought she heard another voice coming through the phone. 

"Roger? Are you still there?" 

Roger cupped the phone for a moment. He wasn't at home. He was at Lily's 
house. Lily was a fifteen year old girl who was crazy about him. She was the 
kind of girl who would give head to any guy, and she was particularly crazy 
about Roger, so he came over to her place when he wanted to get his rocks 
off. 

She didn't go to the exclusive girls' school that Samantha went to. She went 
to a different private school that Roger's school sometimes had dances with. 
All Roger's friends went to Lily to get their tubes cleaned. Her mother was 
often out of the house. 

Lily said to him, "Who are you talking to?" 

"Shut up," he told her, cupping the phone, "just a friend." 

She nodded. She knew he was probably talking to some girl. She put down the 
cup of coffee she had made him and then squatted between his legs. 

For a fifteen year old she was very precocious. She was just one of those 
girls who had a taste for cock meat, and the slut in her had blossomed very 
early. 

She started palpitating his groin with her fingertips, expertly working his 
cock into a rod under his jeans. He smiled down at her and then put his 
fingers to his lips to tell her to keep quiet. She nodded, understanding. 

He took his hand off the mouthpiece of the phone. 

"Roger? Are you still there?" asked Samantha. 

"Sorry, I'm not at home. I'm at a friend's. Go on, what were you saying?" 

"I was just saying that I got the feeling, from the way you laughed at me 
today about my attitudes, you know about being a virgin and marriage and 
all, that you thought I was really stupid. It made me feel really bad." 

"Well, I may think your attitudes are stupid, but that doesn't mean that 
you're stupid. It just means somebody's been filling your head with stupid 
attitudes and you are not old enough to recognize it yet. But actually I 
think you're pretty smart and you know what else?" He looked down at Lily, 
who had his prick out of his pants now. 

She was rolling it and rubbing it in between her palms and licking her lips 
like a hungry wolf. She plunged his prick into her hungry lips and squeezed 
his prick. 

Roger clenched his teeth. He went on. "I also think you're really pretty." 

Samantha was all aglow at this compliment. Her palms were still warming her 
crotch but she found now that there was a pulse in her crotch that was 
racing, and her palms warming it were doing nothing to stop it. That itching 
feeling persisted again. 

She unzipped her shorts and slid one hand down over her panties. Now her 
palm was resting on top of her pink panty crotch. She found that one finger 
automatically nestled in the canal formed by her crotch. She let her finger 
he there, warming her crotch, and once again the warmth seemed to abate the 
pounding in her crotch. 

"Do you really think I'm pretty," she cooed. "I think you're awfully 
handsome Roger." Her heart was pounding. 

Roger said, "In fact, I'd tell you something else but I'm afraid you might 
get mad. I know how you are about these things." 

"What things?" 

"Things about sex." 

Lily's face was stretched upwards, forming a tunnel for Roger's big hot 
prick. The high school track star had a big cock with a bulbous head to it 
and the relief that Lily provided for him-when she made his bulbous cock 
head bounce against the back of her throat and then slide down into her 
throat tunnel-was purely clinical as far as Roger was concerned. He had no 
feeling for the girl. He just considered her a slut. But he felt how his 
prick was being squeezed by the girl's tight throat. 

Her lips slivered all over his shaft as she worked his cock deep into her 
mouth. 

Samantha's finger resting in the furrow made by her pantied crotch was no 
longer doing the trick. The itching had come back and the pounding. Hardly 
even thinking about what she was doing, she picked her hand up and slid 
it-this time under the panty, against her skin. She felt her finger slide 
through her fuzzy blonde pussy hair and slide down into the furrow that had 
been pounding. She slid her finger into this furrow and again let it rest 
there, feeling some relief from the friction. 

"Tell me, Roger, I won't mind," she promised. "I guess I've got to know 
about these things sometimes," she acutely observed. 

"Well, when we were talking today out behind the Field House, I-I was 
looking at your breasts. I mean, looking at how they stuck out of your 
T-shirt. You shouldn't wear such tight T-shirts is you don't want guys 
looking at your tits and thinking that ... " 

"But it's the style!" she protested. "Every one wears T-shirts. All the 
girls" 

"And all the guys think about their tits and look at them" 

"What were you thinking when you looked," she shyly asked. 

Lily's tongue was squirming into his cock patch and she was playing with his 
balls which she had pulled out of his jeans. He looked down at his whole 
large sexual apparatus and he felt tough, he felt like a real man. He liked 
the way Lily looked with his dong plunging into her mouth and he wondered 
how Samantha would look in the same position. He put his head around behind 
Lily's head and he plunged his cock into her mouth. 

She sucked hard on his prick, wanting to swallow his thick scummy sperm. 

"I was thinking about putting my arm around your shoulder and then letting 
my hand dangle down to your tit and then cupping your cute little pink tit," 
he said. 

Samantha gasped. She didn't know it but her finger was starting to wiggle 
back and forth in the wet furrow that was her cunt. Her finger wasn't just 
lying crosswise any more either. It was pointing straight into her wiggling 
wet hot pussy. 

"Why-why didn't you?" she said breathlessly, so happy to know that Roger had 
said that about her. It meant he really liked her! 

"Why? Because I thought you'd get mad! I thought you'd have a fit!" 

"You thought I'd do that? Why?" 

"Why? For Christ's sake, I thought you wanted to be a virgin until you got 
married even if you never get married in your whole life!" 

"Yes, but feeling my-my breast doesn't make me lose my virginity!" 

Roger sighed. He was getting ready to blow his wad into Lily's eager lips. 

He said, "Listen Samantha, you're awfully naive, and I didn't want to take 
advantage of you. One thing always leads to another, see? I don't think you 
understand what that means." 

"I understand! I understand!" Samantha was wiggling her finger up and down 
inside her cunt and she was starting to bounce up and down on the bed so her 
cunt would come harder on her skinny little finger. Water was squirting out 
of her cunt. 

"Well, maybe next time I'll try it then, I really mean it," he said sounding 
sincere. "Look Samantha, I've got to go now," he said. 

"Oh don't hang up yet," she pleaded. 

Roger wanted to come into Lily's face and he wanted to be able to completely 
relax when he did it, and just let go and blow his wad! He didn't want to 
have to keep talking to Samantha, but she wouldn't let him go. 

"I'll prove to you I do understand what you're talking about Roger," she 
said. She was feeling desperate. "I may be naive but I'm not as naive as you 
think! You know what I'm doing now, what I've been doing all the time I've 
been talking to you?" 

"What," Roger barely managed to breathe out. Lily was doing incredible 
things with her tongue-sucking, squeezing, opening her throat wide and 
shoving his cock down there, and then sucking and squeezing some more. 

"I-I've been playing with myself, Roger!" she admitted in a whisper, 
surprising even herself. She looked at her finger. It was all wet. Her 
shorts were wet too. "I'm all wet!" she laughed. 

Roger stared into the telephone. He could hardly believe what he had heard. 
His prick stiffened in Lily's throat. Wow! He was really turned on. He 
wondered if it was true or if she was just making it up to lead him on. 

"Really?" he said. "Describe it to me. Tell me what you're doing! Wow! 
Samantha you're not as naive as I thought!" 

She beamed with pleasure. "Right now, I've got my hand down under my 
panties. I'm wearing pink panties. I'll bring them to school tomorrow and 
show you. I won't wear them or anything! Right now they're soaking wet. The 
crotch. I've got my finger slid under my panties and I've got my finger up 
my ... " 

"Cunt," he whispered. 

Her cunt started to glow again. 

"Yes," she whispered, "up my cunt." 

"Wow! Samantha, go on, go on, you're making me really hot baby." 

"Am I? Am I really?" 

"Yeah, my prick's big as a house." 

Samantha wondered how big that was. 

"I'm feeling in my ... cunt, I just started doing it before, just started 
laying my hand on top of my crotch because I was thinking about your leg 
muscles, your thighs and how they looked when you stretched them out today. 
And then I stole a glance at your crotch, Roger, and I was thinking about 
that and I got this funny tingling sensation in my ... cunt and then it 
started sort of to itch, you know?" 

"Go on, baby, go on! I've got my dick in a nice warm place and I'm listening 
to your voice." Lily's mouth was getting kind of tired and she was kind of 
pissed about the way he was talking to some other girl while she was sucking 
him off. 

She pulled her mouth of his prick and gave him a sour look. 

He just motioned to her to go down on him again and keep quiet. 

With a pissed expression on her face she just grabbed his cock and stuck it 
back in her mouth again. But it was so big and tasted so delicious, the way 
it filled her entire mouth that she forgot about the fact that he was 
talking to some other girl. 

Samantha said, "First I had my hand on top of my shorts, but that wasn't 
enough and so then I had my hand on top of my panties, and that wasn't 
enough and then I slipped my hand down into my panties and my finger slid 
straight into my cunt-it was all wet, Roger. And then I started to wiggle 
and squirm and I just kept getting hotter and hotter. I mean it seemed like 
no matter how hard I wiggled and squirmed my cunt just wasn't getting enough 
from my finger," she groaned. She was wiggling and squirming on her finger. 
Her words were making Roger's prick hard. 

"Oh tell me baby! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!" 

"I was getting so wet Roger, talking to you and fingering myself ... " 

"Oh baby! Here I come!! ! " And he was coming. 

Roger was pumping his scum down Lily's sweet white throat as the pert 
fifteen year old girl held her throat open for him and sucked in his sweet 
cock cream. 

She sucked and sucked and sucked. 

"Did you come?" Samantha asked in an awed whisper. 

Roger was sticking his thick fingers in Lily's blouse and feeling her plump 
little tits now as sort of an after-come reward. "Boy did I ever," he 
grinned down at the slutty fifteen year old. She took her mouth off his cock 
and licked it up with her tongue. 

His big now-limp prick hung down from his jeans, dripping wet. 

"Samantha honey! I've got to go now. I'll see you in school tomorrow. I'll 
dream about you tonight!" 

"Oh Roger! Do you have to go now?" 

"Yeah-hey, and don't forget about those wet pink panties you promised to 
show me. I'm going to be waiting to see them," he whispered sexily. Then he 
hung up. 

She sighed and put the phone back on the hook. Her hand was still in her 
cunt. 

Just then she heard a cough behind her. 

She froze. 

Miss Smithe said, "What are you doing, Samantha? Turn around!" 

Samantha slowly turned. She drew her hand out of her pussy, but it was all 
too obvious what she had been doing. She looked away from the housekeeper in 
shame. 

"I see," Miss Smithe said. She wet her thin lips. She was wearing a straight 
outfit consisting of skirt and jacket. She was very skinny. 

"How dare you walk in here, without knocking!" Samantha suddenly demanded, 
regaining her spirit. She didn't have to be ashamed of what she was doing. 
So-she had been caught. 

"I did knock, but apparently you didn't hear, as you were, er, otherwise 
occupied. Who were you talking to on the phone?" 

"None of your business!" 

"I'm afraid it is my business young lady. I'm afraid it is very much my 
business. Your father pays me to know everything that is going on in your 
life. And he is very worried about you tonight. He sent me up here to see if 
I could find out what was troubling you. He seemed to think that perhaps a 
woman's touch was required here." 

"Nothing's troubling me! Except you walking in here making me feel like a 
fucking sneak and criminal in my own room!" 

"Watch your language young lady!" Miss Smithe said, her lips turning white. 

"I don't have to if I don't want to! Not with ! You're not my father!" 

I will have to report your behavior to your father, if you don't adopt a 
different attitude this moment! I don't want to tell him what I caught you 
doing, because I know he will be quite angry with you. But you force me ... 
" 

"Go ahead and tell him! I can have you fired for lying about me! I'll just 
tell him you're making it all up! I'll tell him you were eavesdropping on 
me! I'll tell him anything! He'll believe anything I say!" 

"You may find that that has changed," Miss Smithe smiled grimly. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

"I don't understand what's been going on with Samantha," Larry confided with 
Miss Smithe later on in the night. "She just hasn't been acting like her old 
self. Did you find out what was wrong?" he inquired. 

Miss Smithe sighed patiently. "I don't think there's any one thing that's 
wrong Mr. Clint. Samantha is at a very difficult age now, when many changes 
are taking place in her body and mind. She's thinking about a lot of new 
things. She's becoming a woman." 

Larry Clint looked at his thin housekeeper suspiciously. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, for example, I believe she was talking to a boy, when I went up to 
see her. Nothing harmful about that. She's got a healthy interest in boys. 
You should be glad." Miss Smithe herself was a dyke but she kept her sexual 
life out of his house. 

He looked at her even more suspiciously. 

"What boy? What was his name?" 

"I don't know Mr. Clint. I think Samantha is entitled to a little privacy 
just like all the rest of us, don't you?" 

"Get me the name of that boy. Oh shit! One thing you know she's talking to a 
boy on the telephone and the next thing you know she's pregnant and needs an 
abortion." 

Miss Smithe sat there quietly. 

"Well you know what I mean, don't you?" Clint roared. 

"As far as I know, I've never heard of anyone getting pregnant from talking 
on the telephone," she answered quietly. 

He was raving now, tearing his hair as she walked around his study. 

Miss Smithe sat primly in her chair. 

"Miss Smithe, as you know, I work with girls. Women, whatever you call them. 
Once they start playing around with their ... well you know-they turn into 
sluts. I've seen it happen again and again! My daughter is not going to be a 
slut, Miss Smithe." She said nothing. 

"What's she doing now?" he asked her. 

"When I left her she was doing her homework." 

"Well tell her I want to speak to her. Right now." 

"Mr. Clint, one thing, before I go." 

"What is it Miss Smithe?" 

"I just think you ought to realize that sooner or later, Samantha is going 
to want to have dates, go out with boys, hold their hands, kiss-just like 
all girls her age. If she has the right attitudes and understands about sex, 
she won't ... get herself into trouble. But if you don't let her develop 
naturally, she will rebel and she will get into trouble." 

"Are you trying to tell me how to bring up my own daughter?" the enraged 
porno publisher roared. 

"No sir." 

"Tell her to come down here, right now." 

"Yes, sir." 

Samantha came down to her father's study. She was wearing her pink terry 
cloth robe and nothing underneath it. She had taken off her pink panties and 
stuck them in her bag to take to school tomorrow and she had put her shorts 
in the wash. 

She had been thinking, with a glow, about the phone call, and about how 
suddenly her life had become more interesting. 

She could hardly believe that she was actually going to bring him the 
panties to see-could hardly believe that she had told him about them at all. 

She could hardly believe that she had told him about what she was doing to 
herself and that he had loved it! She wondered if he really had come! Just 
from listening to her voice over the phone! She wondered what it would be 
like if they were along together. 

She had forgotten all about her fight with her father previously that 
evening. At any rate, she was all ready to make up, and felt honey sweet 
again. 

So she was surprised to see his usually amiable face curled up in anger 
which was usually reserved for his employees, and not for his daughter whom 
he doted on. 

"What is this Miss Smithe has been telling me?" he demanded. 

Miss Smithe had told Samantha that she had not told her father anything 
about finding her masturbating. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," 

Samantha said. 

"She said she caught you talking to a boy over the phone." 

"Oh that, Yes I was. Is there anything wrong with that, Daddy?" 

She smiled at him petulantly. 

She sat down on the little velvet love seat and curled her feet up under 
her. Her blonde hair fell prettily down over her pink robe. 

"No! No! Nothing wrong with that! Nothing wrong with talking to a boy on the 
phone. Nothing wrong with being too ashamed to say who he was! Nothing wrong 
with going out on a date with him, and then holding his hand, and then 
letting him kiss you, and then coming home with a big belly, and coming 
crying to me ... 

"Daddy, aren't you getting a little carried away? All I did was talk to him 
on the phone!" She pouted her lips. She knew how to get her way with her 
father. 

"Who was he?" 

"His name is Roger." 

"Who is he? Where did you meet him?" 

"At school. He's just a boy from school, Daddy." 

"What's a boy doing at an all-girls' school?" 

"He doesn't go to my school. He goes to City and Country Academy. It's the 
brother school to my school. Our schools share a field house and I see him 
when I went to a track meet. Is there anything wrong with that?" 

"Hmmm," Clint was stumped. He knew there was nothing wrong with that, but he 
also knew that he had to explain something to his daughter. Something which 
would be difficult to explain. He was not used to talking about such things. 

"Listen honey," he said more gently, coming up to her and taking her chin in 
his hand. "Let's you and me have a little talk. We haven't talked in a long 
while, have we? Move over." 

She made room for him on the love seat. She put her arms up around his thick 
neck and snuggled against him, pulling her robe across her thighs. 

"You see, honey, I only want the best for you. When I yell at you or get 
upset it's because I worry about you." He pressed his lips into her golden 
hair. 

"I know that Daddy," she cooed and she kissed him back. 

"And you're getting to be such a grown-up girl now! So big! Almost pretty! 
Almost a woman! You're going to have the boys buzzing around you like bees 
buzzing around honey. And that's what I want to talk to you about." 

"Yes, Daddy," Samantha said. 

"Well, I guess we have to talk to each other frankly now. You know that I 
have a magazine and I guess you've probably heard that it's got pictures of 
naked girls in it. Those girls are bad girls, Samantha. They're-they're like 
prostitutes." 

She listened, watching him. 

"Any girl who would do the things those girls do-and believe me, they do 
some very sick things Samantha, well, they're not normal girls. They're not 
like you." 

"How are they different, Daddy?" 

"Well, maybe some of them haven't had the advantages you've had. Maybe some 
of them had sick parents. Or maybe some of them are just plain sluts. 
Whores. But I ... my girl is different. She's different from that kind of 
girl. I want you to grow up to be a beautiful healthy woman. I want you to 
have a lovely husband and a lovely family. You can see the difference, 
honey, can't you?" 

She said, "But don't some of those girls have husbands and families? I mean, 
I just wonder." 

"Maybe some of them do, but you see, sweetheart, what kind of man would 
allow his wife, the mother of his children to ... pose in the way these 
girls pose." 

"How do they pose, Daddy?" 

"In, the most disgusting manner, that's all I can tell you, kitten-pie. I 
don't ever want to see you with one of those magazines in your hands. I 
think it would break my heart. Do you understand?" 

"I guess so," she said. "But I don't know. I was talking to ... this friend 
of mine and he said that it seemed kind of hypocritical, I mean when I said 
that I had always been brought up to think I had to be a virgin when I got 
married, and I'm your daughter, and you publish these magazines that show 
young girls who aren't married and who aren't virgins." 

"Who said that? Who said that?" 

"Just a friend. But all the kids laugh at me, because of my old-fashioned 
attitude and because I'm your daughter. I mean it just does seem kind of 
hypocritical of you." 

She never saw his hand coming. It just landed on her face. It was the second 
time he had slapped her that night. He set her lip bleeding again. 

"Ow!" she cried. She stared at him horrified, tears filling her eyes. 

"Don't you ever call me a hypocrite again! You're just too young to 
understand. You don't know what goes on out there in the world." 

"Well how can you expect me to understand when you practically keep me 
locked all the time under lock and key!! ! " she screamed. 

He stared at her disbelievingly. He had never seen her like this, enraged, 
screaming, squawking. "Shut your mouth!" He slapped her again and sent her 
sprawling backward against the couch. Her legs flew open. Then he saw ... 

He saw that she was wearing nothing under her robe. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he leaned over her, whispering 
viciously. He was clenching and unclenching his teeth trying to control 
himself. 

"What do you mean?" she whispered with fear. She didn't know what he was 
talking about. She had never seen him get so mad. Not at her. 

Her trembling thighs were spread and as he stood over her he could see right 
up her orbe to her golden fleece. 

"Close your legs, girl!" he snarled. "Pretty soon you'll be opening them to 
the whole world! So you walk around without anything on under your robe, 
when you come to see your father! Don't you think that's a little bit 
sluttish?" he sneered. 

"Daddy, please, I don't know what you're talking about," the frightened 
little girl pleaded. 

"Get out of here! Get out of here now!" he screamed, turning away. 

"Daddy," she whimpered. "I've never seen you like this before. I don't know 
what's come over you." 

He said, "Get out, before I really hit you." Trembling, she ran out of the 
study. Upstairs in her pink room she found Miss Smithe waiting for her. 

"How did it go?" the young stern housekeeper asked. 

"Terrible! Just terrible!" Samantha began to cry. "He hit me again. I've 
never seen him get so mad! He was just going on and on, getting crazy, 
because I talked to a boy on the phone. And telling me about how he didn't 
want me to be like the girls in his magazine who are sick sluts and ... 
ohhhhh!! " She started to cry into Miss Smithe's arms. 

"There, there, it's all right, Samantha. You've got to understand that 
you're your father's only daughter, and he thinks the world of you. He's 
only upset because he loves you. We'll work on him, you and I together. 
Maybe he can get used to the idea that you're growing up." She patted the 
young girl's hair and held her close-in her arms. 

Miss Smithe could feel the young girl's breasts pressing through the terry 
robe and into her starched white shirt. She held her closer. 

"Oh Miss Smithe! You are my friend! Aren't you? I'm sorry for the horrible 
things I've ever said to you. You know sometimes I feel like I don't have 
any friends. I feel like a prisoner in this stupid old mansion! Oh, I'm so 
unhappy!" 

"Go to sleep now, dear, you'll feel better in the morning." 

"Yes." 

Samantha took off her robe and threw it on the chair. 

Miss Smithe bit her lip when she saw the young nubile girl, her body pink 
and fluffy from all the excitement of the evening, her breasts round and 
full like oranges, her pussy down soft and blonde. Miss Smithe bit her lip. 

Samantha got into bed. Miss Smithe brought her some ice to hold to her lip 
which her father had split. Samantha thanked her and then reached up to put 
her arms around her dear housekeeper and give her a goodnight kiss. 

"Good night dear," Miss Smithe left the room with her pussy throbbing. 

The next day, Samantha went to school with her pink panties in her purse. 
She looked for Roger after school behind the field house, but he never 
showed up. It was a Friday and she felt very depressed for that meant she 
wouldn't see him until Monday. There was no chance of seeing him over the 
weekend. Her father would never allow that, she knew. She went home after 
school, driven by Leonard. 

She sat in the limousine without saying a word. That was unlike her. 

"You glad it's Friday?" he asked her conversationally. 

"Yeah," she said dully. Friday meant nothing to her. 

Larry was home for dinner again that night. He had decided that he ought to 
spend more time with his daughter. Perhaps that's what the trouble stemmed 
from, that he didn't spend enough time with her. She was late in coming down 
to dinner and he sent Miss Smithe up to look for her. She came down with her 
coat and bag. 

"What have you got your coat and bag for?" He looked at his daughter 
quixotically. She said in a quavering voice, "I'm going out tonight." 

"Going out tonight?" He looked at her like she was crazy. 

"Yes, there's ... there's someone I've got to see." She knew it was crazy 
and she knew he wouldn't let her; yet she had to try, she had to try to 
escape from this prison of a mansion or else she felt she would go crazy. If 
she had to stay here another night, playing pinochle with Miss Smithe and 
watching TV, she would go crazy. 

"Sit down and eat you dinner and stop acting out this ridiculous role. Who 
do you think you are-the Queen of England? Going out tonight. You'll do no 
such thing!" 

"But Daddy, please! Why? Why can't I go out?" 

"Because you're a sixteen year old little girl and sixteen year old little 
girls don't go out by themselves alone of Friday nights. If you want Leonard 
to take you somewhere-to a girlfriend's house, I'd like to talk to the 
girlfriend's mother first. Then you can go, but I don't see why you don't 
just invite one of your girlfriends over here. I don't understand why you 
never have any of your friends over here!" 

"Because I don't have any friends!" she wailed. "Everyone thinks I'm too 
stupid or else too much of a prude, or else thier parents won't let them 
come to the house of the man who publishes that filthy smut!" 

Larry rose in a fury. He clenched his fists, but restrained himself from 
hitting her again. "Go to your room," he said. "And stay there until I say 
you can come out." 

She rose and left. 

Larry stood staring at the seat where she had been sitting and at her plate 
of untouched food. He wanted to know who she wanted to go see, who was that 
boy she was talking to on the phone, whose parents said they wouldn't allow 
their children to come to his house. Suddenly he saw that she had left her 
bag on the seat behind her. 

He picked it up and dumped its contents out on the dining table. 

The plan was to go through her wallet but then he saw her pink panties. He 
stared at them and his blood started pounding in his temples. Where exactly 
did she think she was going without her panties on? Who was she going to 
see? 

He stormed upstairs to her room. 

He ordered Miss Smithe out. 

He had his little riding crop with him, the one he liked to use on the 
models who pleased him. He looked at his golden-haired sixteen year old 
daughter, saw what he hadn't before-that she had lipstick on! He looked at 
her painted lips, her golden-hair, and the tight black T-shirt she wore that 
revealed in all their plump fullness her virgin breasts. His blood pressure 
rose dangerously. 

"Take off your clothes," he told her through clenched teeth. 

She stared at him terrified. 

"Daddy," she whispered. 

He thrust the pink panties he had found in her bag in her face. "Where were 
you taking these?" He waited but she did not answer. 

"Take off your clothes," he repeated. 

She looked around, saw there was no way out, and nervously started to 
unbutton her pants. "W-what are you going to do?" she asked. 

"I'm going to give you a beating you're not going to forget for a long 
time," he said. She slipped out of her jeans, and stood before him in a pair 
of white panties. Somehow, he didn't notice, or didn't make the connection 
that she was wearing panties. Or maybe it made no difference to him. 

"Continue," he said. 

Trembling, she put her hands on the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it over 
her head. She was wearing no bra. She stood before him now, holding her 
little black T-shirt over her chest. Her little tits were trembling and 
wobbling with fear. 

"Go on," he urged her on with thick whispering, "take off your panties." 

He was growing excited in spite of himself, hardly knowing what he was doing 
and hardly knowing what his intentions were. This was the same thing he did 
with the models who came to see him, hoping to be chosen for his magazine. 
He looked at his trembling, quivering blonde-haired daughter and he felt an 
eager lust to whip her, to torment and scorch her beautiful nubile body, to 
spoil her and make her undesirable, so no one else would have her. He was a 
man beyond rationality at that point. 

"Zing!" 

His riding crop rode through the air and slashed out at her hands. Her hands 
flew away from her chest and her T-shirt fell to the floor. 

"Please, Daddy! Please! Don't hurt me!" she cried. 

"Zing!" 

The crop struck out against her tits, slashing diagonally across them, 
leaving a red welt as the kiss of the whip left its mark. 

She ran from him, running from the farthest corner of the room, behind the 
bed, cowering and hiding. In two strides he was near her again. 

She was bent over double, crouching, covering herself, whimpering. 

"I'll teach you to go out of the house with your panties in your handbag! 
I'll teach you to slut yourself about with tight jeans, and that lip paint! 
No daughter of mine is going to be a whore!" 

"Zing!" 

Now he walked forward and grabbed her up and carried her to the edge of the 
bed where he firmly put her over his knee. She was crying but hardly 
resisting any more, frightened to death that he was going to kill her. 

With her pert buttocks staring him in the face, he threw aside the whip and 
began spanking her with the palm of his hand. 

"Thack! Thwack! Thwack!" 

The cupped palm of his hand came down firmly on her firm ass cheeks and the 
resounding twacks of his hand on her flesh made his prick rise in his pants. 
He was hardly aware of it though. He was crying himself, big tears running 
down the creased lines of his face. He was crying because he had hurt her, 
because he had frightened her. 

"I only do it for your own good," he sobbed. 

She was sobbing too. 

His hand was stinging her ass with resounding thwack after thwack. Her ass 
was red and she cried with each stinging blow. 

The injustice of what her father was doing to her, and the humiliation of 
being spanked like a little child, made her sob her heart out as if she 
would never stop. 

First the brutality of the whipping, the terror that had struck her heart 
cold when he stood over her, his fierce powerful manhood evident, as he 
wielded the whip and she, naked, small, powerless, quivered in front of him, 
had frightened her as she had never been frightened before in her life. 

Then her relief when he flung aside the whip had turned to humiliation as he 
now spanked her ass cheeks, while she was still naked, making her feel at 
once ridiculous and small, humiliated, like a child, while her new 
femininity was all too evident. 

Finally his hand had warmed her butt enough. 

Overcome with remorse, his heart torn by the sound of her sobbing, he 
stopped spanking her and picked her up and held her close to him. 

Her legs wrapped around his torso, just the way a little child's would in an 
embrace with an adult, and he held her trembling naked body close. 

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" she cried, turning in her shame and embarrassment to 
the very man who had embarrassed and hurt her. 

"Angel! Samantha! Honey! Daddy's sorry! Can you forgive him?" 

Father and daughter cried together. 

He supported her on his hands, holding her butt up as he hugged her. He 
suddenly felt her warm furry pussy fuzz. A shiver went through his body. 

His dick was lying long and hard down one of his pants legs. 

Suddenly something wet was secreted from her body onto his hand. 

Her juice, stimulated by the spanking, was leaking onto his hand. 

Her nubile tits were rubbing into his open shirt. 

Panting heavily, he put her down. 

"Angel, Daddy's sorry," he merely said, and then he left the room. 

Miss Smithe came in and found Samantha sobbing her heart out on the bed. She 
had a huge welt across her tits and Miss Smithe, keeping her opinion of 
fathers who whip daughters to herself, washed the wound clean and applied 
some healing lotion. 

She noticed that the girl's ass was reddened too, and that Samantha seemed 
to have suffered some sexual excitation from this cruel scene with her 
father. 

She put the still whimpering sixteen year old girl to bed and left the room. 

Later that night, Ellen, the black maid came to her room. 

Miss Smithe took off al her clothes. 

She stood before Ellen in her slim nakedness, her small tits turned hard at 
the thought with lust and desire. Seeing Samantha in the last few days was 
making her sexually hotter than she had been in a long time. 

Ellen, the nineteen year old black maid, had huge nubile breasts. She was 
the color of dark chocolate and her nipples were the color of coffee with 
milk. 

She stripped and then stepped forward and nosed the big tips of her breasts 
into Miss Smithe's slim body. Miss Smithe put her hands up to her hair and 
unloosened her French twist. Her blonde hair came cascading down. 

She kissed her way down Ellen's black nipples to her sloping full belly, to 
her kinky black twat hair. Then, as Ellen spread her legs open, Miss Smithe 
tongued into the flaming pink wet cunt. She wanted to eat, she wanted to 
taste and bite and swallow. 

The black maid's cunt was so hot, so spicy, so fragrant and juicy-it was a 
relief from the pent-up sexuality that had been building in Miss Smithe all 
day, from her contact with the budding Samantha. Miss Smithe ate out Ellen's 
cunt long and hard, making Ellen squirt all of her juices into her and 
sucking and drinking them up. 

Ellen writhed and sighed. 

Then Miss Smithe backed off and lay on her bed. She put her legs over her 
head so her feet touched the wall behind her, and she put her hands down 
around to her ass which she spread open. She said to the staring, black 
maid, whose tits were heaving with passion: "Come eat me, Ellen. Come eat 
out my ass hole and my cunt." 

Wordlessly, the black maid stooped and dug her tongue into Miss Smithe's 
puckered pink ass-hole. She dug and ate out her anus. She fingered into her 
pussy. 

Miss Smithe thought of Samantha and she groaned and sighed. 

Ellen was making Miss Smithe's cunt wet and quivering as she diddled her 
clit while she ate out her anus. Then she switched, and plunged her tongue 
into the quivering pussy pot while she fingered Miss Smithe's anus. Miss 
Smithe's pussy started quivering like a pond struck by lightening. She 
gushed and her pussy juices ran out all over Ellen's face. 

"More! More! More! Don't stop!" 

Just then a buzzer sounded in Miss Smithe's room. It was the intercom from 
Mr. Clint. 

Groaning, she leaned over and pressed the buzzer. She didn't even bother to 
speak. 

"Have you see Ellen? Miss Smithe? If you see her, please send her to my room 
at once. 

"Mr. Clint," Miss Smithe managed to reply. 

She turned the intercom off. 

Ellen was already standing up, putting her clothes on, wiping off her mouth. 

Without a word she left the still unsatisfied housekeeper and went off to 
the West Wing, to Mr. Clint's room. He was waiting for her with the whip. 

"Strip Ellen," he said. 

The ready maid stripped off her black uniform and white apron. She stood 
before him in her stockings and panties, she wore no bra. 

"Such fine tits. Such big lovely brown tits, Ellen," he said through 
clenched teeth. 

He reached out and squeezed one jug and then the other. 

"Spread your legs, cunt," he said. 

She spread her legs as she stood on the floor. He lashed out at her with the 
whip bringing it up between her thighs, slashing her pussy meat as it lay 
under her black panties. Her pussy felt the stinging tongue of the lash and 
she ground her teeth. 

He tied her hands behind his back and made her open his fly with her teeth. 
Then she had to go fishing for his big dick in his pants with her mouth. 

He lashed at her big bottom while she did this, making her pussy start to 
drip as her bottom got hot. He loved to fuck Ellen. He loved to play with 
her. She could take it hot and rough, the way he had to have it. 

When he was ready, he made her squat on her knees on his big brass bed. Her 
hands still tied behind her, he tied her ass to the brass work at the end of 
the bed. Her ass, pressed against the brass work. Her black ass was big and 
round and curved and full. 

He squeezed it, slashed at it, reached around and squeezed and slashed at 
her tits, and then his big prong was ready. 

He stood behind her, spreading his ass cheeks wide. Her pussy was dripping 
and oozing with cunt juice. He stuck his finger in her cunt and stirred up 
her whirlpool of cunt juice. She groaned. He sank another finger up her ass. 
She was ready. 

Making her ass-hole bigger with his working finger, he stuck the tip of his 
dick, wet with her cunt juice, into her ass hole. He was going to explode 
down her anus. 

She was tight and long and hot. She groaned, her hands tied behind her, tied 
to the bed. He plunged through the brass work into her tight hot ass-hole 
and he diddled her wet cunt. Her ass-hole opened to accept him. Her pussy 
juice was streaming all over his fingers. He jammed and rammed his cock down 
her anus, in between her charming black ass cheeks. He thought of his 
golden-haired daughter. 

He rammed his big throbbing prick down the ass of his black maid harder. 

The friction became liquid quickly. 

He was slamming into her. 

She was moaning, her big tits hanging heavily, wobbling, moaning with 
passion. 

Suddenly he started plowing in deeper and deeper. Her cunt was wet and heavy 
under his fingers. Her anus was hot and tight. 

His scum was rising, his scum was pounding, his dick was pounding, he was 
pounding his throbbing dick into her, he was plowing his seed down her ass 
canal, she was squealing, squeezing, moaning, sighing, sucking his pearly 
seed out of his long hard dick. 

He plowed his cock down her ass-hole into a pond of his scummy seed, 
watching his cock plowing her ass, and again his thoughts switched to his 
daughter, as she had hugged him, her ass reddened, her cunt dripping and 
wet, just like this cunt, her little titties pressing into him. 

He plowed into the black maid and he came. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Samantha sobbed herself to sleep that night. But she woke a few hours later. 
She looked at the lighted dial of her clock, from where she lay in the pink 
canopied bed. It was only eleven-thirty. She called Roger. 

His older brother answered the phone. 

"Roger isn't here right now, can I take a message?" 

Samantha felt like crying. Why wasn't he there when she needed him? 

"Do you know when he'll be back? It's very important." Jack, Roger's older 
brother, listened to the girl and could tell that she was very upset. She 
sounded cute. 

Roger had gone out to a party that night and he had left the number where he 
was going, telling Jack that he expected a friend of his to call and to give 
the caller the number of where he was staying. Jack assumed that this girl 
was the friend and he gave her the number. Samantha thanked him gratefully, 
with tears in her eyes. 

She dialed the number. She didn't know it, but she was dialing Lily's house. 

The party at Lily's was in full swing. Which is to say all the lights were 
out in the living room, some hot, slow sexy music was on the stereo, and the 
couples were necking. The couples consisted of two couples: Lily and Roger, 
and Lily's friend Allison (another slut) and her boyfriend-a quarterback 
with the unlikely name of Brick. 

Brick answered the phone, lazily, which was at arm's length from where he 
was cuddled up with Allison, a tall girl with long brown hair that reached 
down to her ass. 

They were only tonguing and feeling each other up at this point. Allison 
liked a lot of foreplay. Her hand was on his cock which was barreling out of 
his jeans, and she had her legs spread wide as she sat cross-legged on the 
couch and he was stirring her boobs, while they tonguingly kissed. 

"Hey Rog! It's for you!' Roger was lying on top of Lily, eating out her cunt 
which was soft and full of cooze juice. Her clit was big and popping out and 
he was having fun licking it only once every once in a while, and making her 
squirm and beg for him to suck it. 

She was lying beneath him, with his big cock poking into her face, sucking 
and playing with his dick with her tongue. They were having fun. 

Roger reached out and took the phone, hooking it in between his head and 
shoulder as he continued to tongue into Lily's wet twat. 

"Hello Roger! This is Samantha!" 

"Sam! How did you get this number?" 

"Your brother gave it to me. Where are you?" 

"Ooh, just at some friends. Listen, what's wrong? You sound upset." 

"Oh, Roger I have to talk to you. I just have to see you! Please can you see 
me this weekend? Roger, I'm so upset!" 

"Well sure, I can see you kid. But tell me, what's wrong?" 

He sank his tongue into the sweet pussy that was clamping and squeezing 
around his cock 

He enjoyed Lily's twat action while he listened to Samantha's woeful tale. 

"My father-he beat me! He whipped me! Just for talking on the phone to you!" 
She started to cry again. "And then he spanked me! Roger! It was so awful! I 
felt I was going to die! I feel like a prisoner here! You're right, he's 
such a hypocrite! He has one standard of values for his magazine! But I have 
to be like a little saint. I said that to him, and then he started to beat 
me! I'm black and blue!" 

"Gee, I'm sorry about that, Sam. How did he find out that you were talking 
to me on the phone?" 

"Miss Smithe told him," Samantha sobbed. "The housekeeper." 

"Gee, that's too bad." Lily, getting annoyed at how long he was talking on 
the phone, sank her teeth into his big prod. Allison and Brick were moving 
along on the sofa. Allison pulling her jeans down over her butt and holding 
her hips up to Brick's mouth. Brick sank his face in her sweet mush, and 
ate. She was playing with his dick with her toes, which were like little 
fingers. They were giggling about Roger, talking on the phone while 
sixty-nining with Lily. It was really too much! 

"Look Sam, I got to go," Roger laughed. "Will you see me tomorrow?" 

"Sure-where?" ' 

"Behind the field house, like always." 

"Okay, what time." 

"Uh, one." 

"Okay, bye Sam.' 

Samantha hung up and lay in bed alone, thinking the night would never be 
over. 

The next day was Saturday. It dawned bright and sunny. 

Larry Clint had to be at a meeting all day long. 

Miss Smithe was working on the schedule and menu of meals for next week. 
Samantha was left mostly to herself for the day. She had a plan, and as soon 
as she was left alone after lunch she went about carrying it out. 

She had packed a small suitcase and she stole out of the house to the 
garage, a separate building nearby. She rang the bell, furtively, hoping 
Miss Smithe wouldn't take this moment to look out the window and see her. 

Leonard, the black chauffeur, lived upstairs above the garage. 

Leonard heard the ringing of the bell and cursed. 

Ellen was stripped naked and he was holding her buttocks and pressing her 
cooze into his face. His dick was pointing straight up at the naked black 
girl's hot cunt and he was all set to bring her down on top of it. Now he 
had to get up, put on some clothes and go downstairs and see who it was. 

Mr. Clint had said he wouldn't be needing the car for the day. 

He strapped his big cock into his pants and threw on a shirt and some' shoes 
and went downstairs tucking his shirt in his pants. 

"Miss Samantha!" 

"Leonard, can I come in?" she looked around nervously. 

He set her into the little hallway. 

He looked at her little suitcase. 

"Leonard, would you please drive me somewhere? It's really not too far from 
here. Leonard, please," she coaxed, batting her eyelashes. "Just to the 
school. I'm supposed to meet a friend there." 

"I can't take you nowhere, not with you carrying that little suitcase like 
you are going to run away." He shook his head, knowing what kind of trouble 
that would get him into. 

"Please, Leonard, please! I'll do anything you want. I'll pay you. I have 
some money of my own in the bank! I'll give you all my money." 

"I don't want your money, Miss Samantha." 

"Please Leonard, please, you don't know how important this is to me. I'll, 
I'll...." 

She looked down dubiously at the hard outline of his dick in his pants. 

She looked up again and their eyes met. 

"M'll do that, I will, I'll do that for you!" she said breathlessly. She 
couldn't bring herself to say what she meant, but they both knew what she 
meant. 

Leonard smiled slowly and licked his dry lips. Miss Samantha was a 
golden-beauty and a virgin too, he would bet. To think of her satisfying 
him, playing with his dick to pay him for driving her somewhere, appealed to 
him and he grew stiffer in his pants at the thought of her pretty little 
lips wrapping around him ... 

"Naw, I couldn't let you do that, Miss Samantha. It wouldn't be right. 
Besides if your Daddy ever found out, I would be in one hell of a lot of 
trouble. If I drove you somewhere you're not supposed to go. Because 
something tells me you're trying to run away from home or something." 

She was staring him in the eye, trying to fascinate him, wield power over 
him, approaching him silently, her fingers going out to his fly. 

She was trembling and she was trying to keep her fingers from trembling, 
because she had never done anything like this before. She had never done 
before what she was doing now, unzipping a man's fly, smiling up at him, 
shaking her blonde curls over her shoulder. She was afraid to reach inside 
his pants once she got his fly open. 

"See now," he said, gently pushing her fingers away as she hesitated at his 
open fly. "You're still a little girl. You shouldn't be doing things like 
that." Her heart pounded. "No I'm not," she said quietly. 

Her fingers went inside his pants and located his black prick. 

Leonard trembled as he felt the pretty little white girl's fingers close 
around his thick hard rod. The head of his cock was quivering. She had 
trouble pulling his prick up out of his pants, but then she had it out. Now 
she lost courage again. 

"Yeah?" Leonard smiled wryly. "Now what are you going to do about it?" 

It was the first time she had ever even seen a male member, naked, in real 
life. She kept glancing at it and then looking away, swallowing several 
times, not sure what to do. But his remark bit into her and urged her on 
again. 

She started to pull at the zipper of her jeans to undress. 

Leonard stopped her. "That won't be necessary," he said without any trace of 
smile this time. "Just put your mouth on it and suck it honey." Her eyes 
bulged. She tried to smile as if she weren't afraid or surprised by the 
request. But her smile was weak and she was obviously afraid. 

But there was no turning back now. Gulping, she approached her head to his 
groin and tenderly lifted his prick to her mouth. 

Leonard couldn't believe how excited he was. His stiff prick was throbbing. 
Just the sight of her little white fingers delicately holding the stiff rod 
of his meat-she could just barely close her hand around it-turned him on. 

But when he saw her close her blue eyes and open her little red lips and 
thrust her face forward, he knew he was going to blow his wad and blow it 
big, right in her face. He couldn't wait for the delightful release of that 
moment! 

Samantha was sucking on the black chauffeur's cock! 

There she was, a virgin, never having done anything like this before, 
kneeling in the hall of the three-car garage outside the mansion her Daddy 
owned, taking the big black tool between her lips and sucking on the long 
shaft of the meat that the black man thrust into her mouth with grinding 
jerks of his hips. 

She felt her pussy trickle with juice as she wondered what it would be like 
to be fucked by this big bulbous cock head and the big shaft underneath it. 

Leonard locked his big hands behind her head, through her blonde curls, and 
then he began to fuck her face in earnest. he started to whimper, unused to 
this activity. 

"Just a moment little darling, just hang on, I'm ready to come"' Was he 
going to come in her mouth? The sixteen year old virgin gagged at the 
thought. It hadn't happened to her before!! ! She tried to groan, whimper, 
protest-to say something, anything. 

It was impossible. He was pushing the slick bulbous head of his prick down 
again, inside the back of her throat and she was forced to accept the big 
thing down her throat where she gagged on it. She could feel his fat rod 
pounding. 

"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Sweet young meat!" Leonard was groaning and crooning 
and crying all at the same time. Involuntarily her throat contracted around 
the shaft of his slimy cock. 

That did it His white spunk started pumping. He jerked his prick in and out 
of the hole of her throat. She could feel a thin stream of spunky thick 
fluid, his semen, flowing down the back of her throat. It made her sick! But 
he was pumping it directly down her! 

She could do nothing but gulp and swallow it. 

When he pulled his dick out of her throat she was sobbing. 

"I did it! I did it! Will you take me now?" 

He ran his fingers through her curls, chuckling. 

"All right, come on, get in the car." 

He went upstairs to tell the black sexpot Ellen that he had to take Samantha 
somewhere. 

When he came downstairs again he found Samantha still in the hall, clutching 
her bag. 

He went out to the garage, backed one of the big black limos out and waited 
for her to come out of the shadow of the house and climb in. 

She was just getting into the back seat, with her suitcase in hand, when 
Larry pulled into the driveway in another car. Larry Clint was in it with 
some of his business associates. Three girls. He pulled up beside the limo. 

Samantha saw who it was, saw her father in the car. She still held the 
suitcase in her hand. Larry just looked her up and down. Then he got out of 
the car and went and spoke quietly to Leonard. Samantha saw her father 
nodding. 

Already she knew her little escape was all over. Finished before it had even 
begun. 

Her father just quietly told her to go back to the house. She did so without 
even arguing. Leonard pulled the limousine back into the garage.. 

Samantha went to her room and started to cry. She stayed up there all 
afternoon, refusing to come down for dinner. When his anger steamed down, 
Larry went up to see his daughter. He asked her one question when he came 
through the door: 

"Where were you going?' She refused to answer. 

"Where were you going with that suitcase?" 

She remained silent, knowing what was coming could not be averted or 
diverted by her answer. 

"Is that right? You refuse to answer?" 

Still she did not answer, waiting for the blows she had come to expect from 
him. 

"I don't trust you any more, Samantha," her father said quietly. 

"I never thought I would have to do this," he added almost to himself. "But 
from now on, you are not allowed to leave the grounds of his house except to 
go to school. Do you understand, young lady? You are being grounded." 

She laughed. "What the hell do you think I've been all my life?' He slapped 
her. 

"Don't you ever swear at me, and from now on, or when you are are not with 
Miss Smithe, you will be locked in your room. And you will stay there until 
I feel you can be trusted once 

Until I feel you can be trusted again. 

She said, "All the locks in the world won't keep me in this dump any more!" 

He hit her face with the back of his hand and she held her lip which was 
bleeding again. 

"They won't! They won't ever!" she shouted, out of control with anger now 
which she couldn't hold inside her. "I will get out of here somehow. If I 
have to break my way out! I'll get out!! I'll get out! I'll get out! I'll 
get out!" 

"Shut up!" down the hall to his wing, into his bedroom where he roughly let 
go of her and threw her against a big old oaken chest. "Open it!" he told 
her. 

She opened it. Her eyes bulged when she saw the contents inside. In the big, 
old chest there were a huge variety of whips, chains, handcuffs, and other 
instruments, 'toys' of sexual torment and abuse. She did not know what they 
were however. But before the night was through, she would experience to what 
use a variety of the interesting 'toys' could be put. 

He started throwing magazines at her, old copies of 'Rustler' that were 
lying around his room. 

He was screaming at her. "Look at them! Look at them! Look at these fucking 
whores! Is that what you want to become! A fucking cunt who's only talent is 
spreading her flaps and making her juice run 

"Look at them you stupid bitch!" he was screaming. 

She looked at the magazines that were being thrown at her head as they fell 
about her. The glossy centerfolds of women spreading their cunts to the 
camera and smiling seductively didn't even shock her. She was well beyond 
that now. She felt nothing could shock her any more. 

He reached into the chest of torture 'toys' and pulled out some ropes. Then 
he grabbed her brutally by the wrist again. He tossed her on his big bass 
bed. 

She landed on her back. 

He tied her down. 

He tied her wrists to the two brass poles at the top of the bed and her 
ankles to the poles at the foot of the bed. Her hands and legs were spread 
wide. But she was still dressed, though the buttons of her blouse had been 
torn loose and her blouse was half open. She lay there with her heart 
pounding, wondering what was coming next. She almost felt as if she didn't 
care. What did it matter, anyway? What difference did it make what happened 
to her? Who cared about her anyway? 

To her surprise, her father lurched out of the room after that, and she was 
left to lie there for many hours, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how 
long he would leave her there, wondering how she would escape from this 
hell, not of her own making. 

Ellen was the first to find her. 

The black maid came in to clean the master bedroom, and found the daughter 
tied to the brass bed, half-naked. Samantha had fallen into a deep but 
restless sleep. Ellen climbed on the bed on top of her. 

She worked her way slowly into the young blonde sixteen year old's pants and 
began tonguing her pussy. She just naturally serviced everyone in the house, 
indeed she had been hired for her natural inclination that way. No one ever 
told her that the master's daughter was off-limits. She was a deaf-mute with 
a particularly agile tongue and a willing mind and body. She was on top of 
the sleeping golden-haired girl, tonguing deep down into the girl's panties 
under her little white shorts, spasming open Samantha's pussy while Sam 
slept, making her wet without her even knowing it. 

But Samantha woke with a jolt when she felt an electric shock tingle at her 
clit. 

She saw in the darkness of the night a form on top of her, buttocks raised, 
black buttocks, in her face, and the weight of large heavy tits dangling 
down on her thighs. 

She was being tongued out, eaten out, by the strange silent maid who had 
always kept mostly to her father's quarters. 

"Ellen, Ellen? Is that you?" 

The black mute woman humping her in the midnight stopped for a moment and 
turned silently though she could not hear, she could sense that the girl was 
now awake. 

Samantha saw the black grinning face in the moonlight. She saw how the black 
maid's thick lips were oily-from the wetness of Samantha's own cunt. 

Samantha saw the black woman lick her thick lips with her wide pink tongue, 
and Samantha knew then that the woman rapaciously craved her golden virgin 
pussy. She knew that women can hunger for women. 

"Untie me, please!" 

Samantha struggled at her ropes to try to indicated what she wanted. 
Normally she could communicate with the woman with gestures, but now her 
hands were tied and bound. "Please untie me!! " she struggled at her bonds. 

Misinterpreting her gestures completely, mistaking them for cries of lust 
and passion-the usual entreaties she got when she climbed into his bed-she 
turned around and, facing the golden girl, crawling between her legs, she 
stuck her face in Samantha's cunt, pulling aside shorts and panties to do 
so. Samantha raised her head up and looked down between her legs. She could 
see Ellen's white teeth, the gleaming whites of her eyes, and her slick pink 
tongue, as the tongue worked agilely in and out of her cunt Her breathing 
stopped. 

Ellen could read lips, but she seemed not to read Samantha's that night. She 
was too busy reading Samantha's cunt lips, which were communicating a 
different message to her, different from the protest of Samantha's mouth, 
different from the quivering of her pussy and thighs. 

Samantha's cunt lips were quivering, pulling tautly away from the hole of 
her pussy. Ellen's thick black tongue flicked in and out. 

Samantha realized that she was sinking into a delightful bliss of sexual 
pleasure. She realized that, for the first time in her life, she was 
experiencing the hot steamy pleasure of being sucked, eaten, pleasured, by 
another human being. 

Up until that point all she had ever done was finger herself a few times, 
somewhat futilely. And sucked off Leonard, but that had hardly given her any 
pleasure at all. 

"Oh! Oh!" Samantha began breathlessly to sigh. 

Ellen's tongue sinking into her cooze was making her feel as if she was 
melting. Her cunt had become a quivering mass of pink flesh, wet and 
trembling, like a pool of quivering jello. She loved it! It was making her 
feel so good. 

It was relieving her of the misery and hell she was living in. 

It was making her feel more human, sensual again. 

"More! More! More! Oh Ellen! Thank you!" 

Ellen understood and she darted her tongue in and out, stretched the little 
girl fuzzy twat open and then drenching her tongue with the sixteen year 
old's pink pussy Samantha came for the first time that night. 

She had her first orgasm under the willing and able tongue of the deaf-mute 
Ellen, the nineteen year old black maid. But it did not stop there. 

When Ellen tasted Samantha's cream on her tongue she poked her tongue into 
Samantha's cunt hole and covered her tongue with the stuff. Then she pulled 
herself up along 

Samantha's body, holding her tongue out, bringing Samantha her own cream as 
if in treat to her. Samantha realized what was happening. 

She tried to recoil in horror while the big-titted black maid tried to push 
her pussy-coated tongue into Samantha's mouth. Samantha understood the Ellen 
wanted to kiss her but she felt disgusted and nauseated, smelling her own 
body, her own cunt, on the face of the big-lipped black girl. She writhed 
and twisted her head from side to side. 

Ellen dipped her tongue down and licked Samantha's writhing head, leaving 
pink and white stripes across Samantha's face-the cream of her own cunt. 

"Please, Ellen! No!" 

But Ellen was used to these games of protest and submission. She assumed 
that Samantha wanted her to go on. 

Pulling the crotch of her own black panties aside, Ellen grinned in the 
darkness and crouched over Samantha's face. Samantha stared in horror. 

She could clearly see the pink wet slit that ran like a knife would slash up 
between he black maid's brown pussy lips. Her black kinked pussy hair curled 
about the lips. 

Holding her panty crotch aside, Ellen lowered her cunt slit down over 
Samantha's mouth slowly. Samantha turned her head from side to side, but she 
could not escape. 

She smelled the powerful odor, then felt the slick wet flesh of Ellen's cunt 
meat. 

Ellen's pink wet slit was pressing against Samantha's mouth. Samantha held 
her lips tightly closed. Ellen didn't seem to care at first. 

She just started rubbing her throbbing swelling pussy back and forth against 
Samantha's closed mouth, getting pleasure out of the feeling of the swelling 
of Samantha's lips pressing against the lips of her cunt. 

But then the black maid wanted more. 

Her big jugs were wobbling in the black night of the brass bed as Ellen 
reached down to the mouth of her victim, raising her cunt off her mouth. 
Ellen's fingers found Samantha's mouth and worked through her lips. But 
Samantha kept her teeth firmly closed. Ellen wiggled two fingers down on 
either side of Samantha's jaw, wiggling into her gums and when she got to 
the pressure points of Samantha's jaw she began to squeeze. 

Slowly Samantha's mouth responded to the pain of the pressure, slowly 
opening. 

Smiling delightedly at her success, Ellen wiggled her pink wet slit back 
down into Samantha's now open mouth and then wiggled in comfortably. She 
kept her fingers in Samantha's mouth to keep her mouth and jaw and teeth 
open, and then she just happily slid her cunt, clit and cunt lips back and 
forth on Samantha's passive tongue. 

Samantha's tongue began to ache. To stretch it out she pushed it up. It went 
through the crevice of Ellen's cunt walls, slid into Ellen's cunt. 

Samantha felt the seismic pressure of the soft wet cushioned walls of 
Ellen's cunt gripping and releasing and gripping her tongue. She could 
hardly pull her tongue out. 

It was like a mouth that sucked her tongue, sucking her in. She tasted the 
raw salty flavor of the black maid's hot cunt. She had never tasted cunt 
before. 

She realized that now she was tonguing out this woman, almost voluntarily. 

She realized with awe that every time her tongue flicked by the big wet 
pyramid that was the maid's clitoris, she could feel a corresponding tremble 
shiver through the black maid's body. She was making the black maid come! 
With her tongue!! ! 

When Ellen pulled off Samantha, Samantha's face was sticky and wet, as 
Ellen's face had been when she had pulled off Samantha. Ellen bent her 
tongue down to Samantha and the two women kissed, uniting the oily grease of 
their cunts with their tongues. 

Samantha felt Ellen's big boobs plunge into her neck and chest. They felt 
like big soft melons, with hard little nipples on the ends. 

Then suddenly Ellen was gone, just as silently as she came. 

Again Samantha lay alone in the darkness, with Ellen's cunt slime drying on 
her and in her mouth, and her own pussy juice drying on her open exposed 
twat. 

Her blouse was open now and her round apple-firm tits were exposed. 

That was how her father found her when he came back from an evil night of 
carousing to forget what was happening at home. He was dead drunk. 

When he walked into the room and found Samantha lying there, her eyes open, 
naked and with her sex and her tits showing, he almost forgot who she was. 
For a second he thought she was some model he had left tied up and forgotten 
about. 

But then he realized it was Samantha. 

He just looked at her for a while, thinking evil thoughts about what he'd 
like to do to her if she weren't his own daughter. But even then, in his 
condition, some last moral resolution held him back. He drunkenly walked 
over to his intercom and buzzed Miss Smithe. 

It was three o'clock in the morning. 

Miss Smithe came right up. 

She looked with outraged eyes on the scene-Samantha lying tied to the bed, 
looking as if she had been sexually used, and Larry Clint, slumped drunk and 
staring at the golden twat of his daughter through bleary eyes. 

"Get her out of here," Clint slurred. 

Efficiently, Miss Smithe, in her navy blue bathrobe, her long silky blonde 
hair around her shoulders, untied the traumatized girl and lifted her up in 
her arms. 

"Tie her up, in 'er own bed. See 'at she doe'n't run away," Clint slurred. 

"Yes sir," said Miss Smithe and she carried the poor forlorn girl to her own 
pink and white bedroom. She didn't want to tie her up. 

She could see how the girl's ankles and wrists were bruised from the thick 
rope that had been used on her. But she was afraid of not carrying out Mr. 
Clint's orders. Although she had no love for Mr. Clint, she did care about 
his daughter Samantha. In fact, she was slightly in love with the girl. 

She didn't want to lose her job, for that would mean losing Samantha. And 
more than she cared about what that would do to her own feelings, she was 
afraid for the young girl, afraid to leave her alone in the care of her 
father. 

Using silken ropes that she played with, with Ellen, she lightly but firmly 
tied the poor exhausted girl down into her own downy pink and white soft 
canopied bed. 

Leaning over her, she detected the smell of a pussy she knew very well, and 
she knew that the maid had come in and taken advantage of Samantha while she 
lay tied up in her father's room. She washed the twat smell off Samantha's 
face. 

"Miss Smithe? Is that you, Miss Smithe?" 

"Yes, darling, it's me. You'll be all right now. I'm here." 

Samantha tried to move. 

"But I'm still tied down!" the unhappy girl wailed. 

"Sssh, hush, see it's not so bad. They're very loose," she demonstrated how 
loose the bonds were. "It's just for your father. Those were his orders, 
that you be tied up." She had undressed the pretty girl and slipped a thin 
nightie over her head before tying her down in bed. She surveyed Samantha's 
pretty figure again. 

The girl's thighs looked golden in the early light of dawn. Her golden 
tresses hung down around her shoulders. Dark shadows lay under her painted 
eyes. 

Miss Smithe could just make out the golden bush of curling hairs that lay 
under the mound under her diaphanous nightie. 

Miss Smithe sighed and began stroking Samantha's body, her stomach and then 
stroking her little mounds that were her breasts, and then stroking her 
thighs. 

"Mmmmm, that feels good," the drowsy girl said. 

"Does it honey?" 

"Mmmmmm." 

"Did Ellen come to you?" 

"Mmmmm?" 

"Ellen, did she come to you, while you lay in your father's bed." 

"Ellen? Yes." 

"Did she ... she showed you things. She did things to you. Now you know. . ? 
" 

"Ellen. Yes. Yes, she satisfied me. She did things ... " 

"Did it feel good, darling. Did you like it?" 

"She licked me. It felt so good. So good." 

The drowsy girl's eyes were almost closed as she spoke in her half-sleep. 

"Oh my darling, I will do those things to you too, I will put you to sleep, 
I will send you to dream land." Miss Smithe stroked the breasts of the 
sleepy girl until she closed her eyes and began to breathe regularly, in her 
own bed, though still in bondage. 

Then Miss Smithe went to the foot of the bed and lifted up Samantha's 
nightgown. 

She put her head underneath the diaphanous hem. Samantha's pussy was already 
spread open, from her legs being tied apart. It was sweet, so sweet. 

Miss Smithe recalled the first time that she had been tied up and another 
woman had gone down on her, which was how she too lost her virginity. 

Miss Smithe felt as if she were going down on herself in a way. She licked 
the slit and saw how the lips trembled and quivered in response. 

Then she sank into gentle happy lappings at the cunt of her beloved little 
girl and she licked her cunt all through the dawn and into the morning, 
falling asleep herself with her tongue happily ensconced in Samantha's open 
cunt. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Miss Smithe decided to take matters into her own hands. 

She made an anonymous telephone call to a legal service that was known to 
help out minors who were being abused by members of their own families. She 
alerted the lawyer she talked to about Samantha's case. Then Samantha called 
him herself. 

The outcome of this was that Samantha was taken out of ther father's custody 
and awarded to Miss Smithe's care temporarily, until Clint's name was 
dragged all through the papers for abusing his daughter and he was fined ten 
thousand dollars. 

Through it all, Samantha began to feel sorry for her father. Although she 
insisted time and time again that he had never touched her sexually, 
explained he had only whipped her and tied her up, everyone assumed that she 
was simply not admitting to the other stuff that had happened. Everyone 
assumed that Larry Clint, publisher of 'Rustler!' had done other things to 
his lovely sixteen year old daughter, which was being kept out of the press. 
But it just wasn't true. 

Samantha got a lot of sympathy from the other kids at school, and Roger took 
her out a couple of times and treated her real nice, holding her hand, just 
kissing her gently on the cheek, confessing he had never really believed it 
when she told him about how she was being abused, and saying he was sorry 
that he hadn't believed her. 

Samantha had to appear in court and testify on the stand about what her 
father had done, and she almost regretted taking the steps she had taken at 
that point. 

Whe she saw her father, looking old and beaten, sitting with his lawyers at 
the table opposite hers, keeping his eyes averted from her face with shame, 
she felt a twitch in her heart, for her daddy, whom she had always loved. 

She broke down and cried on the stand-a fact that her lawyers were secretly 
very pleased with-and they won her case easily. Larry Clint lost custody of 
his daughter and was deemed to be unfit as a father. The man was broken. 

Samantha moved into a little house in town with Miss Smithe. She had her own 
room and she continued going to the same school, except now she would ride 
the school bus like the other kids, and talk on the phone and even have 
dates with boys. Miss Smithe was jealous of everyone Samantha talked to, but 
she knew she would have to let the girl go her own way. To try to keep her 
to herself would have been as bad as what her father had done to her. So 
Samantha was no longer living in a gilded cage. 

A year went by. She overcame the trauma of the experience of separating from 
her father. Samantha became very involved in school, and in new friends, and 
in boys. 

Roger was still her favorite boyfriend, but he didn't want to go steady with 
her. He told her she should try going out with other boys too. 

She knew he went out with other girls, which she tried to pretend she didn't 
mind. 

She also knew that Roger, for some reason, didn't treat her like his other 
girlfriends. At least, she assumed, from the way he talked, that he did 
things with other girls-girls she didn't know. But he never touched her, 
beyond holding her hand in the movies or kissing her lightly on the lips 
when he brought her home. 

She couldn't understand why. She talked about it with Miss Smithe. 

"I think he must be afraid that I'm traumatized-about all the publicity and 
about the things Daddy did to me," Samantha said, one day to her new 
guardian. She now called her Loretta, which was her first name. 

Loretta smiled. She was making Samantha a tuna fish sandwich to take to 
school. 

"I think you might be right. Maybe he just respects you too much, too, to 
try and take advantage of you," Miss Smithe suggested. She was working now 
as a legal secretary to support herself and her new ward. Of course Samantha 
also got money from her father which was part of the court's decision. 
Loretta sighed. 

Selflessly she had realized and decided that she and Samantha could not 
continue to know each other in the way they had known each other that one 
night a year ago. 

It had been a one-time thing, never to happen again. Samantha remembered it 
vaguely but she and Loretta had never spoken of it. It was just a silent 
bond between them. 

And since she had left her father's house, of course, she had not seen Ellen 
again. That night had become a strange nightmarish memory, it almost seemed 
unreal. 

At school for a long time, all the kids had treated her as if she were 
someone special. But now, finally, the scandal she had been the center of 
was beginning to disappear. 

"I just don't understand it Loretta," Samantha continued, packing her book 
bag. "I mean I really like Roger, and I know he-likes me. But he explained 
why he doesn't think we should go steady, and I understand. But so I hardly 
ever see him. I mean, it doesn't make sense. I really, really like him and I 
think he really-likes me, and yet we hardly ever go out. It just seems so 
unfair-if he's still holding off going out with me because he thinks I'm 
traumatized or something." 

"Have you tried talking about this with him?" the older woman suggested. 

"No," said Samantha slowly, thing. "You think I should?" 

"Why not? It could be a good way to clear the air, on both of your parts." 

"You're right! I will! Thank you, darling guardian. I've got to run! I'll be 
late for the bus!" 

"Don't forget your sandwich." 

Loretta smiled as she watched Samantha running down the front walk to the 
bus, her hair flying out behind her. She loved that girl so much, sometimes 
it ached inside her. It was so good to see the way that Samantha was 
developing, opening up, growing, now that she was no longer the poor little 
rich girl, living in the gilded cage, now that she was free to confront the 
world, and other people, on her own terms. 

Loretta hummed happily as she got herself ready for work. 

Roger was a senior now. He was one of the most popular boys in the school. 
The track star, he had a beautiful body that many girls looked and sighed 
at. His long muscular thighs, his thick calves, his strong hairless chest, 
his dark wavy hair had many a girl sitting home at night waiting for a call, 
hopelessly. 

Roger had plans for himself. These plans included college and a career. He 
wanted to be a lawyer and had a full scholarship to one of the best 
universities in the country. 

One thing he knew he did not want was to get involved with some girl. 

He saw how easily girls fell in love. Every one of his buddies who had a 
steady girl was constantly under her thumb. They were always calling their 
girls up, confessing about what they would do every night of the week, and 
the girls were always very jealous cf every girl their guys so much as 
looked at. Roger didn't want that kind of situation for himself. Oh no! He 
knew he didn't want some puppy-love stricken high school girl trailing after 
him, writing and crying for him, when he went off to college next year. 

Roger wanted to hang loose, to remain free. 

So all through high school he stuck around pretty much with Lily and her 
girlfriend who didn't mind just having sex for sex's sake. Lily was kind of 
stuck on him, but he had made it perfectly clear that he really dug her 
body, but he wasn't into anything serious. 

Lily always had lots of other guys coming over to her house, since she gave 
blow jobs, and she was even starting to charge a little bit of money for her 
efforts. 

But she still let Roger, one of her oldest customers, come over for free. 

Roger was supposed to go over to Lily's for a big Halloween bash that she 
was giving at her place. She told him he could bring a date if he wanted, 
because she was going to be real busy that night taking care of 'lots of the 
guys.' 

Roger said he probably wouldn't bring anybody. 

Though he went out to the movies with lots of girls from his school, he 
would not invite any of them over to Lily's house. The girls from his school 
just wouldn't understand about a girl like Lily. So he planned on going 
alone. 

Samantha tagged him in the halls that day and said she wanted to talk to 
him. 

That year, the two exclusive private schools had combined to go coed, and 
girls and boys shared the buildings and classes together. 

"Meet me after school in the parking lot," he told her. 

She looked radiant when he said that, and she gave his hand a squeeze and 
went of? to class with a couple of her girlfriends. 

Roger felt confused about Samantha. He really liked her, more than the other 
girls at school he knew. He felt she had been through a lot more than the 
other girls, and yet at the same time, there was something lovely and 
original and fresh about her. 

Yet he was afraid of hurting her. And he didn't want her to fall in love 
with him. He knew that would be messy. He was afraid now, as he walked off 
to chemistry class, that the conversation with her this afternoon would have 
to be messy in some way. 

She was waiting for him by his car parked in the lot. 

His father had given him a little sports coupe, secondhand, as a reward for 
getting the scholarship to M.U. Tech. Roger had a scholarship to the 
exclusive private high school too. He was one of the few kids who were here 
who did not come from a wealthy family. 

"Hop in," he told Samantha. 

Cheerfully she got into the front seat of his little blue car, and chattered 
happily about how cute it was, and how much fun it was to be going for a 
ride. 

It was funny about Samantha, he thought to himself as he eased the car out 
of the lot and headed down Rout 12 for the country. Most of the other girls 
in the school turned their noses up at his car because it was secondhand and 
it wasn't a Ferrari. 

But Smantha, whose Dad was probably one of the wealthiest Dad's in the city, 
really enjoyed simple things, like being taken for a spin in his second-hand 
car. 

You'd have thought that she'd never gone for a ride in a car, he thought to 
himself. Samantha cheerfully stuck her head out the window and let the 
pungent autumn air blow through her hair. He recalled seeing her, stepping 
into that big black limo that her father always had waiting for her, and 
being swiftly whisked away. 

"What did you want to talk about Samantha?" he asked when they had left the 
school well behind and were speeding down the two-lane road past harvested 
fields and vegetable stands where scores of pumpkins were lined up to be 
sold. 

"Can we stop somewhere?" 

Roger felt a sinking in his heart. This was going to be messy all right. 

He drove to a lake. The leaves were changing all around the perimeter of the 
lake and Samantha jumped out in ecstasy. She wanted to go for a walk. 

She held out her hand to him and grudgingly he followed her. 

For a long time they talked about nothing but the beauty of the day, and 
about school and friends. Then finally Samantha sat down on a tree stump and 
invited him to sit beside her. He sat down, on a stump slightly lower than 
hers. 

She put her arms around his chest and pulled his head back against her. 

He closed his eyes and just let himself enjoy it. 

"Roger, I really care for you." 

"I really care for you too, Samantha." 

"Then why don't you ever want to go out with me?" 

"But I do go out with you. We do go out. We went to see that horror flick 
two weeks ago." He knew this wasn't what she meant, but he tried to keep her 
off. 

"But Roger, when you take me out to the movies you always treat me-I don't 
know, as if I'm your younger sister or something." 

"Well, maybe I do think of you as my little sister in a way." 

"But that's just what I don't want," she said with a groan. "I want you to 
think of me as your girlfriend. I don't mean your only girlfriend. I know 
you don't want to go steady or anything. But couldn't you just think of me 
as one of your girlfriends." 

"Samantha, I'm too old for girlfriends." 

"Too old for girlfriends?" 

"What I mean is, I'm going away to college next fall. And I don't want to 
leave any broken hearts behind me. When I'm at college-well, I don't know 
what will happen once I get there. I know someday I want to have a wife and 
children, but that's all far away. I'll then, well, you know I have bodily 
needs, but there are girls who will take care of that stuff and not ask for 
anything in return." 

He paused. 

She was listening with confusion. She really didn't understand what he was 
trying to tell rjer. She looked out over the lake and felt sad. 

"I don't understand what you're saying, Roger." 

He sighed. He sat up and turned around to face her. 

"I'm saying I can't think of you in any other way than as a little sister. 
That's all you are to me, and that's all you can be to me." 

"Roger, I-I'd be your lover. I-I'd do those things. I'm not afraid." 

He turned away again and slumped down into the circle of her arms again 
leaning against her knees. He shook his head and sighed. 

"I can!" she said. "I-I'm not totally innocent you know!" 

"I know," he said. "I read about it all in the papers." 

"That's not fair!" she said. "Half of what they printed wasn't even true. No 
one knows what really happened to me except me. Besides, I don't see what 
all that has to do with you and me, and now! I'm just trying to tell you 
Roger Morely, that I'm not a starstruck little girl! I could care for you, 
if you'd let me, and ... " She leaned over and whispered in his ear in a low 
voice, "and I could satisfy you. I know I could. If you would only let me." 
Her silky fingertips played around the rim of his ear. 

He twitched her hand away from his ear as if he were flicking away a fly. 

"You just don't understand, Samantha! I have girls for that stuff! I don't 
need you. And any way, I just couldn't think of you in that way. The girls I 
know, who put out-well they're real sluts. I would never want to think of 
you that way. You're too nice a kid." He wished they could put an end to 
this conversation. It was turning out messy just as he had expected it 
would. He looked at his watch. 

"I am not a kid! And you sound just like my father! Yes, just like the 
'dirty old man' whose name they smeared all over the papers! That's exactly 
the kind of bullshit he used to throw at me-about how there are two kinds of 
girls, sluts and mothers. You're sick! You're just as sick as he is! Plus 
you're a male chauvinist!" 

Roger gritted his teeth and sighed. 

"All right," he said. "Let's just drop it and go home." 

They didn't talk once all the way back to the street where Samantha lived. 
He dropped her off and said goodbye, but she didn't answer. 

He drove around the city feeling very unhappy. for the next week in school, 
Samantha didn't speak to him. If he saw her in the hallway and waved to her 
or said hi, she just stuck her nose in the air and went right past him as if 
she could see right through him. He began to think about her. 

He thought about how cute she was then she was excited about something-like 
going for a ride in his car, or seeing a horror movie, or walking beside him 
on the streets in town. He thought about her blue eyes, her lively smile, 
her longe blonde hair, and it thrilled him when he thought about the new 
tone in her voice he had heard for the first time when she had leaned over 
him at the lake and whispered in his ear that she wanted to be his lover. 
But he kept fighting himself. 

I don't want to get involved with her. She'll fall head over heels in love 
with me and it will be so fucking messy, he thought. He told Brick about 
Samantha the night before the Halloween party at Lily's. Brick was still 
seeing Allison, and their relationship was very 'messy.' Allison had stopped 
sucking off other boys and was remaining faithful to Brick and she expected 
Brick to do the same. Brick really had no desire to go with any other girls, 
since Allison went all the way with him, and knew so well what he liked. 

But it was a matter of male pride, of the male honor code: no woman was 
going to dictate to him what he could or could not do, by God! 

"So, ask her to come to Lily's party," Brick said amiably. "She said she 
wanted to become your lover, give her a chance. She'll probably back out and 
run all the way home crying when you call her bluff." He beat on the wall 
outside school and passed Roger a joint. Smoking was forbidden to both of 
them as they were athletes but they did it any way. 

"Naw, I don't want to take her to Lily's. She's not that kind of girl." 

"So, forget her. Fuck her. I think you're letting her get to you too much 
already. 

Roger sighed. He was of the same opinion himself. Still, it cut into his 
heart a little bit each time she snubbed him in the hall, and since that day 
out in the country a week ago, he had become increasingly aware of the 
beauty of the shape of her body. 

She had filled out in the last year. He saw the shape of her full rounded 
tits in her T-shirts. She had the cute up-turned kind. And he saw how slim 
her waist was, and how her hips curved out gently beneath. He saw the round 
firm shape of her buttocks. 

He liked all this. 

He wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips-not as a little 
sister-deep and long and lovingly. He wondered what it would be like to get 
a girl like Samantha naked, to take her upturned breasts in his hands, to 
slip his hands down her firm taut belly, to plow his fingers through her 
cunt hair-it must be golden like hair!-and to slide home into the wet lips 
of her cunt. 

Samantha! Could he be thinking about Samantha this way? 

Then he saw her flirting with another guy on the track team outside her 
homeroom. He was a tall good-looking guy who had just moved into the state 
and was new in the school. Roger called her up that night. Loretta answered. 

"It's for you!" she called, cupping her hand over the phone. "It's Roger!" 

Samantha came to the phone. 

"Hello?" she said casually. 

"Hi, Samantha! It's me!" 

"Oh hi, Roger. What do you want?" 

"Well, I just wanted to ask you out to a Halloween party tomorrow night. Do 
you want to come?" He held his breath for a moment, afraid she would say no. 

Samantha gasped. "Really?" she asked, losing her cool. 

"Yeah, well, what do you say?" 

"Yes, I'd love to Roger! Do you have to wear a costume?" 

"Only if you want to." 

"Are you going to?" 

"Naw, I think that kind of stuff is stupid." 

"Oh." 

"I'll pick you up at eight, okay." 

"Okay!" 

"He asked me out to a Halloween party tomorrow night! He's never asked me 
out to a party before!" an ecstatic Samantha turned to her guardian happily 
and blurted out. Loretta smiled and kissed Samantha's forehead. 

Loretta could remember so well the trials and tribulations of her own school 
girl crushes. "And you told him you'd go? Whose party is it?" 

"I don't know." 

"I'd like to get the address and phone number," Loretta said. "Oh, Loretta!" 

"Just because I'm only your guardian doesn't mean I don't have the right to 
act like a parent. Now, any parent would want to know where you were 
going-just in case ... " 

"Just in case, what?" 

"Just in case I want to get in touch with you. Now you find out from him and 
you tell me, that's all," the stern, loving guardian said firmly. 

"All right," the happy school girl sighed. 

In the next twenty-four hours, Samantha gave a lot of thought to what she 
would wear to the party. She didn't want to wear a costume, because Roger 
had said he thought that was stupid. But she didn't want to go in ordinary 
clothes either. 

She wanted to look grown up and seductive. 

Loretta helped her get up a sort of costume as a dance hall girl. 

Loretta whipped up a looped skirt and a bodice and Samantha went to the five 
and dime store and bought a cigarette holder and some make-up. 

When she had finished dressing at seven o'clock the next night, she had a 
beauty mark on her chin and wore eye make-up and had blush on, she was 
carrying a cigarette-in a cigarette holder, and she had on a provocative 
dress that fitted snugly around her bosom and waist and lopped over her 
legs, though somewhat demurely. 

"There, you look fantastic!" said Loretta happily. 

Samantha had told her guardian some of the conversation that had taken place 
by the lake, but not all of it. She had not told her about her offer to 
become Roger's lover. 

But she trusted Loretta so much, thinking of her more as an older sister 
than a mother, that she talked to her now, while she waited for Roger to 
show up at eight. 

"Loretta, do you think it's wrong for a high school girl, in 1980, to ... 
well ... to loose her virginity." She paused and waited anxiously. 

Loretta smiled and took Samantha's hand. 

She sighed, "No, I guess it's a natural thing. Do you think you are going to 
lose your virginity tonight? Is that what you are planning?" 

Samantha blushed. "I don't know. I really don't ... But I think that's what 
he wants." 

"Well, all I can tell you, honey, is honestly-you've got to be careful, 
you've got to look out for yourself, because if you don't there's damn few 
people in this world who will. I'm not just talking about getting pregnant 
either, either. I'm talking about getting hurt. 

"Oh Loretta! Don't worry! I'll be all right!" 

Roger was very impressed with her costume. In fact he was turned on. He had 
never seen Samantha in such grown-up clothes. He had only seen her in 
T-shirts and blue jeans. She looked suddenly like a woman, like a sexy 
woman. 

Night was falling. They drove off to the party. 

"Listen I have to explain something to you about this party," Roger said. He 
smoked a few joints before picking Samantha up and he was already feeling 
pretty good. 

She said, "Listen, you don't have to explain a thing. I'll hang loose." 

"All right," he said admiringly. He lit a joint, and passed it to her. 

She had not smoked in a while but she took the joint expertly between her 
fingers and sucked down the smoke. She ended up coughing and had to admit 
that she had never been smoking. But she kept at it and by the time they got 
to the party she had a buzz. 

She sat next to Roger on the seat of the car-not real close, but close 
enough so their bodies were touching. Roger put his free arm around her and 
drove with one hand on the steering wheel. She let her hand rest 
lingeringly, nonchalantly on his thigh. 

He parked on a side street near Lily's apartment. After he pulled on the 
emergency brake, he pulled Samantha over to him. Suddenly she became timid 
in his arms. 

Her heart was racing as he pulled her face to his and pressed his lips to 
hers. 

Then they were deeply embracing, her mouth opening to receive his tongue, 
his pressing into her mouth. His tongue snaked around in her mouth and the 
strength of it seemed determined to communicate to her the strength of his 
prick. 

He picked up her hand and put it to his crotch. 

She felt his big tongue pressing insistently into her slightly parted lips 
as he guided her hand over the big bulge in his pants. 

"Oh Roger!" she breathed ecstatically when they broke from their kiss. 

Roger was breathing heavily too. He was ready for sex. He wanted sex 
tonight. He hadn't been to see Lily in over two weeks, and he was horny 
tonight, and he was especially turned on by the idea that he was going to 
get into Samantha-the kind of girl he had always avoided before. The kind of 
girl he never thought about fucking. 

In the darkness he reached for her body. He pulled her towards him and began 
playing with the buttons on her bodice. Her breasts plumply filled out the 
tight fabric. 

"Hey!" she laughed. 'Wait a minute, tiger. Save something for later. Let's 
go in to the party." Reluctantly he agreed and they went in. 

The party was in full swing. 

Lily greeted him at the door. She was on her way to get a drink and she 
ushered them into the crowded smoky kitchen. Roger introduced them. 
"Samantha, this is Lily, this is her place. Lily, this is Samantha." 

Lily looked Samantha up and down with some irony. Although she was a year 
younger than Samantha, she looked older. She was wearing a tight black dress 
with lots of black eye make-up and bright red lipstick. She saw she was 
supposed to be a whore and she loved it. 

Samantha of course didn't know the nature of the relationship between Roger 
and Lily, but even if she had known, she wouldn't have cared. She was with 
Roger tonight, she was 

Roger's girl for the evening and nothing else mattered. 

While Roger and Lily chatted about people they both seemed to know, Samantha 
sipped her rum punch and looked around. She saw an attractive woman who was 
obviously much older than the kids. She had slightly greying hair but most 
of it was still . an , attractive browji and she had a fantastic figure. She 
had a whole bevy of teenaged boys standing around her talking to her. She 
looked like a queen holding court. 

"Oh Roger, I don't think you've ever met my mother. Mom, this is Roger, a 
good friend of mine," The attractive older woman came over. 

"Pleased to meet you," she smiled. 

"And this is his date, uh ... " 

"Samantha," Samantha said. 

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Black," said Roger looking curiously at Lily's 
mother. He wondered what kind of woman she was, and how much she knew of her 
daughter's action with boys. Then he took Samantha's arm and they drifted 
out into the living room. 

There was fast dancing music on and some people started to dance. 

Roger pulled Samantha out onto the dance floor and they started to boogey. 

Roger, as an athlete, had good control over his body, and he liked to dance. 
He swayed in time to the rhythms of the latest pop record and as the drum 
beat mounted he jerked his hips back and forth, back and forth, in perfect 
time. 

But what really surprised him was Samantha. She seemed to have a natural 
rhythm all her own. She closed her eyes and seemed to forget all about the 
world. 

She swayed, sometimes standing in one spot and just jerking and swaying her 
body in syncopated beats that started at one end of her body and flowed with 
perfect rhythm down to the other end. Then sometimes she would jerk out 
wildly with flamboyant gestures and dance across the room, flinging her 
arms, her hips, her head and her hair, and jerking out her legs. Roger was 
quite amazed. He really couldn't keep up with her. 

He moved up behind her and started to boogey behind her, his hips jerking 
and swaying as he moved down on her. She extended his arms and she jerked 
and swayed in front of him. Then he boogied back up. 

Next it was her turn. She turned to face him and she extended her arms and 
boogied down, rocking and writhing until her head was close to his groin and 
her eyes were closed and her whole body was swaying as she writhed back and 
forth. 

Next came a slow number. 

Roger gathered her into his arms. 

She melted. 

She let herself be held in the luxury of Roger's strong embrace. She felt 
her breasts being pushed into his broad strong chest, felt his muscular arms 
around her hugging her waist close to his. She could feel his thighs wrap 
around one of her legs and he pulled one of her legs in between his legs, 
and he rode on her thighs, pressing deep into his crotch. Again she could 
feel his powerful hard-on. 

It excited her. She felt a tingling in her nipples. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders and her fingers swept 
gently up his neck, working up into his hairline to fondle his dark curls. 

The lights seemed to go dimmer and the music was hushed and soft. 

Roger suggested finding a dark intimate corner somewhere and sitting out the 
next number. He said he wanted to smoke a joint. 

They had to walk over several couples who were already sprawled on the 
oversized pillows spread about on the floor. Samantha giggled and held his 
hand. 

Somebody lit a cigarette and the flame of the match illuminated for the 
space of a second a strange scene. Mrs. Black was sitting against the wall 
on a cushion, and her blouse was open and her bra was off. Her breasts were 
naked and her nipples were pointed downwards. There were two black leather 
jacketed kids, two guys who looked to be around seventeen, sitting next to 
her. They were both looking at her hungrily. 

"Let's sit here!" Roger said, pulling Samantha down to some cushions near 
the pillows not too far from where Mrs. Black sat smoking a cigarette. 

Samantha felt drawn to the scene-to looking at Mrs. Black. 

The woman was wearing a pair of light green stretch slacks which poured over 
her shapely figure. Samantha wondered for a moment if she knew her blouse 
was open. 

Roger pulled her down to him. She fell across his lap. He cradled her in his 
arms and pressed his face down to her again, and once again they became lost 
in a kiss. 

Roger was feeling into her blouse again. 

She liked the way it felt, to have a boy touching her breasts, to have Roger 
touch her breasts. He was igniting a fire in her that had not been lit in a 
long time, since those strange times over a year ago right before she had 
been taken out of her father's custody. She felt her body going limp with 
passive exquisiteness and then becoming alive and ferocious as she wanted to 
respond, to show Roger how much she loved what he was doing to her. She 
started to unbutton his shirt. 

He smiled at her and started to kiss her hair. 

Samantha was staring over his shoulder at Mrs. Black. 

The woman was stubbing out her cigarette and then she started to unzip her 
pants and pull them down. She had tight-lace black panties on. 

She leaned back against the wall with her pants off now, and one of the 
slick boys pulled himself up between her legs. He started kissing her tits, 
which she held out to him. Samantha saw Mrs. Black push on the boy's head, 
urging him to go down. 

His kisses went down across her belly to the top of her panties. 

He started kissing down on top of her panties, and Mrs. Black laughed and 
put her fingers to the top of her panties and pulled them down. 

Her brown curling pussy hair was revealed and then she was kicking her 
panties off. Again she took the boy's head in her hands and urged him down 
to her pussy. 

He seemed a little taken aback by her direct method of seduction, but she 
didn't seem interested in niceties. She just kept pushing his head down. 

Samantha saw how the boy's face fell into the space between her plump 
thighs. He was kissing her pussy hair, but she wanted something different. 

She put her fingers down to her cunt and pulled gently at her cunt lips, 
baring the slick wet inner cunt meat. Holding it open with the fingers of 
one hand she again began pressing the boy's face into her slit, while she 
rested with her head back against the wall and her eyes ' closed. She seemed 
to want him to lick her bad. 

"What kind of a party is this anyway?" Samantha giggled hesitantly into 
Roger's ear. Roger had unbuttoned her bodice entirely and was unbuckling his 
belt and unzipping his fly to relieve the pressure on his cock. And to make 
his cock more accessible to Samantha. He looked at her quickly, afraid she 
was starting to get scared. 

"Whaddyamean?" 

She nodded in the direction of Mrs. Black. Roger hadn't noticed her before. 
He looked and whistled softly. "Wow!" he said. 

Now it was clear the boy was licking out her cunt, right there in the middle 
of the party. They were in a dark corner, it was true. But Mrs. Black had 
nonchalantly lit another cigarette and was taking long puffs and drags, and 
blowing them lazily out through her nose, while her eyes were closed, and 
she reset one hand on the top of the boy's head to keep him licking at the 
cunt. She just sat there, with her knees bent, thighs opened, with this kid 
licking out her cunt. 

Roger could see the boy's tongue flicking in and out of the pink lips of her 
cunt. 

It made him hot. 

"It's a make-out party, what did you think? Come on, let's do our own 
stuff." 

He started fondling her tits, feeling how round and firm they were. They 
made small hefty little bundles in his hands-they felt like hefty little 
melons. 

"Right here in the middle of the party?" she asked quaveringly. 

"Yeah, that's right," he said. 

He pulled her back down into his lap and he bent over her in a kiss that 
turned into a long stretched-out embrace. As he shifted the weight of his 
body on top of her, she suddenly felt his dick in her groin. She felt his 
cock, out of his pants. She didn't know how wet her cunt was, but she was 
afraid. She didn't want to go all the way, not here, not here in the middle 
of a party, in public-not for the first time! 

"Roger," she tried to say. "Relax and enjoy it." 

She bit her lip and tried to do as he said. 

He was kissing her, feeling her tits and trying to maneuver his cock up 
under her dress. He pulled her dress up and felt her legs, her thighs, the 
nylon of her stockings in which her thighs were encased. He started to rub 
his prick against the nylon, loving the feel of it. Then he began to nudge 
his cock higher. 

His fingers were reaching for her panties. He wanted to pull them down and 
get with it. He was kissing her passionately all the while. 

She felt helpless with passion and with fear. She responded passively. 

His hands were on the tops of her panties. He began to gently tug at her 
panties. Suddenly Samantha was filled with a loathing for the whole scene. 
She desperately wanted to make love to Roger, but she wanted to do it 
somewhere private, where they could talk, where she could make noises and 
not feel embarrassed about other people hearing her, where she didn't have 
to feel embarrassed about strangers, other people at the party looking at 
her naked cunt, looking at Roger sticking his cock into her. 

"Roger, wait, please, I want to talk about something." 

"Sssh, honey, come one, it's all right, I'll be real gentle." 

"Roger, it's not that, I ... " 

But he refused to be stopped at this point. 

He kept his mouth firmly over hers so she couldn't talk and he got her 
panties down over her thighs. Then, to loosen her up and relax her, he 
searched through her hair for the little hole leading down into her wet 
cunt. 

He found it with a finger and he started working his finger into her cunt 
hole. He whispered to her to just relax, just relax, and to let him do 
everything. 

Her cunt was hot, there was no denying that, and her cunt lips were soon 
covered with the juice of her desire. He was working his fingers in and out 
of her cunt hole, playing on her clit. It felt so good. She couldn't fight 
against it. 

Lying there, she let her thighs relax open. Sensing her spread, he played 
deeper in her cunt with his fingers and eased his cock down over her cunt 
hole. 

Mrs. Black now had an audience around her and she didn't even seem to mind. 
In fact, she seemed to enjoy it. She put out her hands to another 
black-haired boy and he stood in front of her. She unzipped the fly of his 
jeans and pulled out Ins prick. It was limp. She put it in her mouth. In 
seconds you could see, the limp prick turned hard. It was growing in her 
mouth. 

So, while she was being eaten out by the young boy with his face in her 
cunt, she began to suck on the cock of the boy standing in front of her. She 
clearly loved being sucked out and sucking cock, at the same time, and she 
clearly loved doing this in front of an audience. Her eyes were closed, but 
she moaned as she worked her face up and down the boy's big prick. The big 
head of the prick was pointed right down her mouth. 

Samantha realized too that there were people starting to gather around her 
while she lay on the floor under Roger. She didn't want to be the second 
half of a double feature. She tried to protest but to no avail. 

"Rrrr," was all she could say. 

Roger's mouth remained firmly planted on top of hers and he was beginning to 
twist his tongue into her. He was positioning his cock to go into her wet 
cunt hole. 

"Roger! I don't want to do this! Not here! Not now!" she managed to break 
away from his lips and exclaim. There was a slight murmur of laughter from 
the spectators who were mostly guys who had come to the party stage and had 
nothing better to do. 

"What are you talking about?" Roger whispered harshly into her ear. 

The head of his prick was sinking in between her soft cunt lips, and he kept 
pressing his prick in further. It was sinking into her wet cunt inch by 
inch. 

"I don't want to do this! Not here! Not now! There are people watching!" she 
hissed. 

The people around them laughed, for they could not fail to hear what she was 
saying even though she had whispered into her ear. 

Roger looked down at her, lying underneath him. 

Her pretty titties were wobbling, her golden hair fell all over them. He 
raised himself up on his arms and slowly continued to lower and raise and 
then sink again his cock into her clasping wet cunt. She spread her thighs 
apart involuntarily. 

"Sure you want me to stop?" he grinned. 

"Oh!" she closed her eyes and moaned. It felt so fucking good! 

But she heard the grins and smirks around her. 

She opened her eyes into the staring eyes of the boys watching. 

"Please Roger. I just don't want to do it here," she said in a perfectly 
loud and audible voice, not trying to hide what she was feeling any more, 
but just talking to him. 

Roger just looked down at her and grinned, his tongue between his lips. 

He liked the fact that they were being watched. He liked for these boys to 
see him fucking this beautiful gentle, passive blonde. 

He worked his hips and sank his prick into her hard. That was the plunge 
that broke through the thin web of her cherry and sent his prick plunging 
into the depths of her cunt which had never been touched before. 

"Ohhh!" she cried. 

The boys in the ring around the fucking couple started and their eyes 
gleamed. 

Roger placed his hands over her tits and let her nipples squeeze out between 
his fingers. Balancing his body in this way on her boobs, he slowly raised 
his cock up out of her cunt slit and then plunged it back into her again. 

He opened her up wider this time, his prick penetrating even further. 

It felt so good to Samantha that she monetarily forgot about her spectators. 

She spread her legs wider apart. 

She opened her eyes. They were staring at her. 

"Roger!" she began to whimper helplessly. She didn't want to have an orgasm 
in front of these hungry staring eyes. But Roger only grinned. 

He slid his prick out and plunged it in again. His dick head was so big and 
thick and his shaft was so thick too, and the whole tool rubbed down across 
the flaming hot surface of her clit and she started to feel an incredible 
fire mounting in her. 

She started tingling too. When she closed her eyes she could forget about 
the fear. 

She closed her eyes, still whimpering helplessly. 

He rammed his cock into her twice, three times, faster now. 

With each plunge, he seemed to be pushing a little farther into the 
uncharted territory of her virgin cunt. She opened her eyes and stared into 
the faces that leaned towards her, who were watching her every tremor and 
quiver with hunger. 

She felt humiliated. Torn between the desire to give in to this thing she 
wanted which was to make love to Roger, and the fear of exposing herself in 
all her naked quivering to these boys. It seemed so unfair that it had to be 
this way. 

"Roger, please!" she whispered. 

"Fuck her!" one of the boys whispered, licking his lips. 

She knew then that there were boys watching Roger's cock penetrating her 
cunt, and staring at her open cunt lips, taking Roger's cock in. 

Roger slid his cock out and plunged it in again. 

"OOOoooohhh!" This time it felt so good, that she knew she couldn't hold off 
any longer. She wanted to raise her legs, so she could stretch them wider. 
She raised them off the ground, keeping her eyes resolutely closed. 

Roger took her outstretched legs in his arms and slowly bent them back over 
her head. The boys could observe her clearly now, her pert ass cheeks, the 
hole of her cunt, where he was penetrating her. He slid his cock almost all 
the way out again so they could see how long and big he was, and then he put 
the head of his prick back in between her trembling pussy lips, pushing them 
open and aside. And the long thick shaft of his prick followed. Samantha 
moaned and so did many of the on-looking boys. 

"Wow! Fuck that cunt!" 

Someone grabbed Samantha's foot, stretched up over her head. Someone grabbed 
the other foot. She froze when she felt that. She knew strangers had grabbed 
her feet. 

She started to protest. When suddenly she felt a head bend over hers and a 
pair of lips close on hers. It wasn't Roger who was kissing her. She didn't 
know who it was and she couldn't see who it was. But now everything was 
happening fast. 

Roger was squeezing her tits as he balanced on them and fucked her cunt with 
his thick cock. He began to slide his prick through her wet tunnel faster 
and faster. His balls smacked against her anus. She felt so good. She was 
stretching her legs as far as she could, as Roger held them forced over her 
head. 

Somebody began tickling the soles of her feet while she stretched out her 
legs in the delicious agony of the fuck. The tickling was like an added 
stimulus. 

And someone was kissing her, tonguing her. 

She could hardly believe this was all happening. While Roger was fucking 
her. 

But his prick was doing miracles in her slick wet cunt. Her cunt was 
starting to convulse and grasp at his pole as her legs stretched wide into a 
spasm and the tickling fingers at the soles of her feet sent thousands of 
little unbearable quivering down her legs to her already trembling and 
quivering liquid cunt. 

Roger was poling into her. 

"Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!" 

"Fuck that cunt!" 

"Fuck it!" 

"Fuck her!" 

"Fuck!" 

Suddenly the mouth kissing her drew back. Roger's prick was trembling in her 
pussy. She pulled and clawed at his cock with her pussy. Suddenly his cock 
was jolting. 

She stretched her legs wider than ever, feeling the unbearable tickling on 
the soles of her feet. In one last effort her cunt wrapped around his cock 
pole and she quivered. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

"OooooohHHHHHhhh!! " 

Deliberately she kept her eyes closed, her cunt squeezing and squeezing 
still around the ejaculating pole. It felt so warm, so hot, so wet, so soft, 
so hard, so cockful, in her cunt down there. She didn't want to open her 
eyes and come back to the real world. 

Someone was tickling her soles again. The tickling sent shivers down her 
legs and she tried to pull her legs out of the hands of her ticklers. 

The result was only that her cunt spasmed once again around Roger's thick 
pole. 

"Mmmmm-mmmm; that was good," Roger said. 

Now she opened her eyes and looked up into his face. Her face was a 
combination of strange sadness and a new delight. Why hadn't he listened to 
her? Why couldn't their first time together have been somewhere alone and 
intimate and quiet. 

She tried to pull her feet out of the hands of her tormentor. But the boy 
holding her feet and tickling them wouldn't let go. 

She jerked her hips trying to get her feet loose. 

"Let go!" 

Roger slid his heavy prick out of her cunt and just looked back down it. It 
lay, thick and heavy, his cock head "covered with white cunt cream and his 
own scum. The heavy head of his cock lay on top of her wet cunt slit slimy 
with her own cunt cream. All the boys were looking at his prick lying on her 
exposed blonde-haired, puffed cunt lips. They wouldn't release her legs 
because they wanted to look at her cunt. 

"Let go of me!" 

"Hey, let go of her," Roger said now. 

She felt them tickle her some more and then they released her. 

Suddenly she felt a horrible big thick hard dick hovering over her face. 

"Open you mouth cunt!" a voice above her said. 

She sat up wildly. "Hey Billy, cut it out." 

"What gives? She's too good for us." 

"I said, cut it out, that's all. She's not like that." 

"Oh, yeah?" 

For a moment Samantha thought there was going to be a fight right on top of 
her. 

Roger had doubled up his fists and was staring down the big thug, named 
Billy, who apparently had thought that Samantha was another one of those 
girls whose holes are open to any and all takers. Most of the girls at the 
party that night were like that. 

Billy finally got the idea that Roger was protecting her, and he went away 
grumbling. Samantha realized that he had been the one leaning over her and 
kissing her. 

Roger got up and sat on the floor. Samantha closed her legs. 

The show was over. The spectators drifted away to watch other scenes. 

Samantha glanced at Mrs. Black nearby. Many of the spectators had gone over 
there. 

"Wow!" 

Samantha looked at Roger. He was smoking a joint now, and he passed it to 
her. He was looking at Mrs. Black too. 

She was nearing her climax, and it looked like it. She had a thick crowd 
around her. 

She was still leaning against the wall with her head back and her mouth open 
and her eyes closed. Her hands were up around the cock of the boy fucking 
her face. 

For that's what he was doing now. 

She just held her mouth open for him and he sank his dick into the back of 
her throat again and again. You could feel she was loving it. Her throat 
jumped and convulsed as if she were trying to swallow him down. Her hands 
slipped down to the head of the guy going down on her between her thighs. 
She pressed his face into her cunt hard. 

"Whhoooeee!" 

"Wow!" 

"Fuck her! Fuck that cunt." 

"Suck that cunt out!" 

The crowd was openly enjoying and appreciating watching Lily's mother do 
some exotic action. Roger looked around the rest of the room, wondering 
where Lily was while her mother gave this exhibition. Then he saw one of 
Lily's black-stockinged legs. 

They were sticking out between a pair of hair male legs. He could see the 
hump of Lily's white ass and her head bobbing up and down over the guy's 
cock. 

like mother, like daughter, he thought. 

Mrs. Black's lips hungered over the prick shoving in and out of her mouth. 
She was sucking, sucking, sucking on the long dick. 

She was shoving the face of the boy between her legs into her big wet meaty 
cunt. 

Sanantha's eyes too were riveted on the scene while she smoked the joint and 
then handed it back to Roger. Everything seemed so unreal, everything seemed 
like a dream. 

Suddenly the boy with his prick in Mrs. Black's face pressed his cock deep 
in, and wrapped his big hands around the back of her head. 

His whole body was quivering. 

All could see Mrs. Black's throat swallowing. 

The boy was coming in Mrs. Black's mouth, and she was sucking his prick and 
dripping down his seminal fluid. There were gasps of disgust and delight 
from the crowd. 

Mrs. Black's whole body shook then too. It was obvious she was coming as the 
boy in her cunt sucked on her clit. 

Then the owner of the cock in her face pulled his prick out. It hung over 
limply now, and he wiped his wet cock against her tits. 

She reached for it and lovingly brought the head of the limp dick to her 
mouth again. 

Smearing his semen all over her lips she then licked off the head of his 
slick wet prick and then licked off his whole cock shaft with a big smile on 
her face while the whole crowd watched enthralled. The boy with his face in 
her cunt raised his face for a moment and everyone could see how his whole 
mouth was covered with a thick layer of cunt cream. Everyone laughed when 
Mrs. Black shoved his face back into her cooze. 

Samantha turned away. She reached for her panties and started to put them on 
again. 

"Did you like it, honey?" Roger said, reaching for her hand. 

She let him fondle her hand while she looked down and tried to think of the 
right answer. She didn't want to get him angry. She remembered what he said 
about not wanting to get involved. She ought to consider herself lucky that 
he took her out and agreed to think of her in this new way at all. She 
decided to say nothing, now, about her dislike of the place he had chosen to 
fuck her in. 

"Yes, it felt so good!" she said truthfully. 

"Good. It felt good to me too." And he leaned over and kissed her. 

She felt so proud that night, as she proceeded to drink some more and get 
more stoned. 

Everyone knew she was Roger's girl. She clung to his side at every moment 
and he didn't seem to mind. She didn't feel much like talking. 

She just held his hand and circulated through the party with him, listening 
or not listening while he talked to his friends-people she didn't know-about 
track scores or about where he was going to school next fall, or about where 
he had copped his pot. 

She was just so happy to be at his side, to be seen as his girl, to be with 
him that that was enough for her. Sometimes he put his arm around her while 
he was talking or drew her into his lap and Samantha wanted these moments 
never to end. 

She felt very grown-up now. Now she had a man. 

At one point though, Roger disappeared. He said he had to go take a leak. He 
left her by the record player. She looked through the records. 

A girl came up to her and smiled as if she were thinking something inwardly. 

"Hi, I'm Karin. You're new here, aren't you?" 

"I've never been here before. My name is Samantha. I came with Roger." 

"I know," Karin giggled. She had long blonde hair that she had twined into 
pigtails on either side of her face to give her a little girl look but she 
also wore lots of black make-up and red lipstick. "Roger sure is lucky." 

"What do you mean." 

"To have such a pretty girlfriend," the coy girl said. She was one of Lily's 
other girls who was know to give good head for free. 

"Well, thank you." Samantha was a little taken aback. 

"Do you know much about Lily?" Karin said. She pretended to be looking 
through the stacks of dance records for a good one to play. But really she 
was fronting for Lily, who had gone into the toilet with Roger. Karin knew 
Roger and Lily wanted a little moment alone, and she had seen all evening 
how this new girl had clung to Roger's side like a wet clam. She also had a 
devilish urge to play cat-and-mouse with this quiet chick. 

"No, I've never met her before. Do you know her well? She certainly gives a 
nice party." Samantha thought for a second about Lily's mother, but didn't 
say anything. 

"Oh yes, I've known Lily for a long time. We're very close. Best friends, 
you might even say." She smiled coyly. "Lily and I have been going around 
together for a long time." 

"Oh? It must be good to have a real close friend like that. I don't have 
many close friends." Samantha felt friendly under the influence of the punch 
and pot. 

She felt accepted here, as Roger's girlfriend. It felt so good to be here, 
and to feel comfortable and accepted and at ease and having fun. 

In the bathroom, Lily was giggling and coming on strong to Roger, who wasn't 
all that interested in her tonight. But she had pushed him in there and 
locked the door behind her and was tickling him and rubbing up against his 
cock and greating him up. 

She wanted to go down on him and she wanted to go down on him bad. Just 
because he had shown up with that prudish girl who looked like she had never 
even gone down on a guy before. Lily wanted to get Roger now, and suck him 
off, while his girlfriend's outside. 

"Come on, Roger, what's the matter? Suddenly I'm not good enough for you. 
Now that you've got Miss Goody-Two-Shoes clinging to you like a hot clam." 

"Come on Lily, give the kid a break. Tonight was her first time." 

"Her first time!" Lily squawked. 

She snorted and then her hands were reaching down into Roger's pants for his 
cock. 

"I heard you telling Billy Ramses that he couldn't stick his prick in her 
mouth. That she wasn't that kind of girl! Well, fuck her! What kind of girl 
is she?" 

"She's a nice girl, Lily. She's had a tough time." 

"Bullshit," Lily snorted. "Now give me some of your sweet and sour sauce 
honey," and she started warming his prick up between her hands. 

She was sitting on the toilet seat looking up at him. 

He looked down at Lily's bright red mouth and pointy little white teeth. 

Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders. 

She reached down and pull her top down over her tits ... She had huge 
mammaries. Big luscious ones that wobbled and trembled and shook. 

Roger got hard. His prick stiffened. He smiled down at her and took her big 
tits in his hands. He wanted his prick in her mouth. Nobody could suck him 
off like Lily could. She really had a magic mouth. And it turned him on to 
think of this elicit sex in the bathroom with Lily while Samantha waited for 
him, like a virgin girl, out there in the party. Any way-he wasn't fucking 
tied to her. He could do what he wanted. "Open your mouth, you foxy little 
cunt," he told her. 

Lovingly she stretched her little mouth open wide and went down on the head 
of his throbbing prick. It felt so good. He felt her eat down the length of 
his pole. 

"Yeah, Lily and I have been friends from way back. In fact I was with her on 
the night she first lost her virginity. God! That was so long ago!" 

"Really?" Samantha giggled. 

She wasn't going to say that tonight was the night she lost her virginity. 

"How old was she when she lost it?" 

"Hmmmm, let's see, she was about twelve." 

"Twelve!" 

"Yeah, I remember because my birthday was the next week and I was just 
turning thirteen. And popped my cherry on my birthday, and I was pissed 
because Lily beat me to it. She was always sort of hot for cock. Still is, I 
guess." 

"Yeah, I noticed her, er, mother, in the corner." 

"Oh yeah, Mrs. Black. She's all right. She's real cool." 

"Cool?" 

"Yeah, she-likes Lily bringing lots of young guys around to the house 
because Mrs. Black-likes 'em young too. Course she's got lots of older guys 
her own age too." 

"Really?" Samantha looked around uneasily now. She had never known women 
like this before. She began to wonder what was taking Roger so long. 

"Sounds like you really have a lot of experience," Samantha said. 

"Experience, yeah, you said it. Thing is, I really like fooling around with 
guys. It's so easy to bring them off, and they really like you for it. And 
it makes me feel good too. Take Roger, for instance," she said coyly. 

"Roger?" 

"Yeah, he comes by here a lot. He's one of Lily's regulars." 

"Regulars?" 

"Yeah, Lily just started making the guys start to pay for it, you know. 
B.j's and stuff." 

"B.j's?" 

"Yeah, you know, blow jobs." 

"Blow jobs." Samantha was beginning to feel weak. 

"Yeah, you know," Karin made a jerking movement with her hand near her mouth 
and opened her mouth. "Sucking guys off. But Lily never makes Roger pay for 
it, no matter how broke she is-well, she's got a lot of business and she's 
never really broke." 

"She ... doesn't make Roger ... pay?" 

"Naw. She's said she-likes his dick too much and his scum is too sweet. She 
said she just couldn't make him pay cause she-likes sucking him off too 
much. Plus Roger's a real gentleman. He always brings around some nice 
smoke, you know?" 

"Yeah, I know. I wonder where Roger is?" said Samantha beginning to get the 
gist of what the pig-tailed girl was telling her. She didn't think she 
wanted to talk to her any more. She looked, around uneasily. She didn't see 
him any where. 

In the bathroom Roger's prick was easing in and out of Lily's sweet lips. N 

Suddenly Lily pulled his prick out of her mouth and she scooped her face 
down under his big prick shaft. She popped his balls in her mouth and sucked 
on them one at a time and then her tongue extended out and she was flicking 
her wet tongue over his anus. 

Her hands were lost down in her cunt in her panties. 

Roger lifted his boot to the panties and he pulled her panties down. He 
wanted to see her wet cunt while she fingered herself. 

Her fingers were sunk in her red, slick, wet flesh. 

"Put my cock back in your mouth," he said. 

She smiled up at him and stuck his prick head in between her lips. He 
pushed. His prick slid in. He was thinking about Samantha while he let Lily 
suck off his dick. 

It excited him to remember how he had pushed her legs up over her head so 
all the boys around them had been able to see her exposed, warm, split open 
pussy mound. It had been a good fuck, a real good fuck. It had excited him 
to fuck her in front of all those guys, to think of her the way he thought 
of Lily, and to fuck her like that. 

And now it was good to fuck Lily secretly like this, while Samantha waited 
around outside for him, no doubt wondering where the hell he'd gone. Let her 
wait! he thought. 

He slowly worked his prick in and out of her throat, smoothly guiding his 
hips. 

She diddled her cunt and sucked at him. 

Suddenly she was overcome with desire to be sucking his semen. 

One hand came up to his cock and wrapped around his pole. 

She slithered her lips up and down on his penis, sucking at his prick, 
drawing deeply into her throat and then backing up and just sucking up and 
down on the top half of his penis and then stuffing him deep into her throat 
again for a second. 

She was sucking his stuff up out of him, playing with his balls, sucking his 
prick and then letting the head of his penis shaft get a feel of the soft 
wet back of her hard throat. Someone started knocking on the door. 

Neither he nor Lily responded. 

She was sucking at him faster and faster, plunging his dick head into the 
wet meat at the back of her throat and contracting her throat muscles around 
his wet dick. 

Someone was rattling the doorknob. 

"Let me in there!" 

"Shut up," Roger growled under his breath. 

He closed his eyes and sank his fingers into Lily's tit mounds. 

He was going to come, soon, real soon, he was going to come in Lily's mouth. 

"Roger? Are you in there?" 

It was Samantha. 

"Keep sucking," he snarled at Lily and they smiled at each other. He didn't 
bother to answer Samantha. He thought of her on the other side of the door 
and he wanted to laugh. The only thing he cared about at this moment was 
going all the way, blowing his wad way down sweet Lily's throat. He didn't 
like to be interrupted. 

"Now! Suck on it, cunt! Suck me off!" 

Lily sucked. She sucked and she slid her tongue up and back down his cock 
shaft going in her throat, plunging his dick head down her cunt-like wet 
throat. 

His prick started to jerk and explode. 

His spray released and splashed against the back of her throat. Lily gurgled 
and swallowed and kept sucking all at the same time. It was good-oh so 
good-for her to have guys come in her mouth. She loved to suck guys off, she 
really loved it! 

She diddled herself until she came too, trembling and shaking and quivering 
with 

Roger's now limp cock still in her mouth so she could suck on it. 

When she came her teeth inadvertently bit into his limp prick. 

"Hey! Watch it you little cunt!" 

He pulled his prick out and watched her boobs tremble with the last sighs of 
her orgasm. He gave her big boobs a swat. She giggled. 

He pointed wordlessly outside. "Samantha's out there," he mouthed. "I know," 
Lily grinned. "You go out first, I'll wait in here." 

"All right." 

Roger leaned over her and flushed the toilet as if he had just taken a piss 
or maybe a long crap. Then he slipped his cock in his pants, zipped his fly 
and turned the doorknob. 

Closing the door quickly behind him, he slipped out. 

There was Samantha leaning against the wall, waiting for him. She had a 
blank look on her face. He went over to her and squeezed her hand. 

"Sorry I took so long." 

"You were in there with somebody." 

"No I wasn't." 

"I know you were. I heard two people talking. Besides, somebody told me." He 
looked her in the eye. 

"All right, I was. You want me to take you home?" 

She just turned and walked away. 

Let her-he thought. If she couldn't take it, it was her problem, not his. He 
just wasn't the kind of guy who could stick with one girl. 

Samantha disappeared into one of the rooms down the hall. He followed after 
her, intending to take her home and then come back here later, when things 
would be getting really hot-with threesomes and foursomes and the like. He 
didn't intend to keep her around here that late any way. She had had enough 
of an introduction any way. 

She had gone into one of the darkened bedrooms where couples were necking 
and making out, and feeling each other up and fucking. He saw her. 

She had just fallen into the lap of this guy sitting by himself. 

She had put her arms up around his neck and started embracing him 
passionately, and he had responded, amazed, without asking any questions. 
Samantha was beautiful, and no guy in his right mind would ask questions 
when she started to kiss him. 

Roger went up to her and stood behind her. 

"Come on Samantha, I'll take you home." 

"I don't want to go home. Can't you see I'm busy." 

"You're just doing this to get back at me, aren't you? Why don't you just 
let me take you home." He didn't even bother to look at the guy whose lap 
she was sitting on. 

"I don't want to go home!" 

"She said she doesn't want to go home," said the guy whose lap she was 
sitting on and he glared up at Roger. Roger didn't know him. 

"Albright," he shrugged and turned away. "I'll be downstairs in the living 
room. 

And he left her. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Samantha became a regular at Lily's parties and evenings. She became one of 
the girls in the crowd. That first night was only the beginning. 

That first night she was hurt and confused and stoned and high. 

When she found herself sitting in the lap of a stranger, a really cute boy 
with blonde hair and green eyes, kissing him really turned her on. 

The kissing was good-deep and real and slow and erotic, and she didn't even 
realize that she didn't know who she was kissing, until Roger was standing 
behind her telling her he was going to take her home. She felt insulted. 

What right did he have to interrupt her and say he was going to take her 
home as if she were a little girl, not old enough for this kind of action? 

And yet, when he went away, she found herself feeling faintly surprised. 
So-she really was to go on with it, kissing this stranger? And liking it? 

It seemed so. 

The blonde boy soon wanted to feel her tits and from the way he sighed and 
exclaimed over them, she knew she really did have nice tits. It made her 
feel good that somebody else besides Roger thought so too. It made her feel 
good that somebody else beside Roger found her exciting and sexy and erotic, 
and wanted to touch her. 

She let him touch her. 

She found herself opening her legs and letting him finger her under her 
panties. 

It felt so good to feel his finger on her hot love button. She started 
juicing instantly. Then he pulled his prick out of his pants and situated 
her on top of it, and she was fucking for the second time in her life that 
night. 

Bouncing up and down on the cock of the stranger while she sat on his lap. 

It felt so fucking good, and there were no onlookers this time. Everybody in 
the room was engaged in his and her own action. Nobody had a chance to look! 

When the guy shot off his wad up her pussy, she had already creamed all over 
his dick. She just sat there for a while afterwards, squeezing and squeezing 
his dick with her cunt, getting to know the feeling of having a fat hot pole 
up her pussy. 

Later she wandered downstairs to see where Roger was. 

Apparently the sex was all as casual as you wanted it at this party. 

The blonde boy had wanted to know her name and if he could be her date for 
the rest of the evening, but she just said she already had a date and wanted 
to get back to him. 

Downstairs in the living room, people were getting into threesomes and 
foursomes. 

Whole clusters of people clung to each other, attached at the cunt and mouth 
and at the dick and thigh. She saw Roger sitting on the couch, between two 
girls. 

Both of them had their blouses open, and his hands were fondling their 
breasts. 

One girl, on his right was masturbating and the other girl on the left was 
just smoking and watching a scene going one in front of them. 

In front of them Mrs. Black was on her hands and knees giggling and taking 
swills out of a bottle. One guy was penetrating her ass-hole behind her. She 
was sitting on another guy's dick, which went up her cunt. 

She just swiggled on the bottle and laughed and cackled and groaned and 
fucked and got fucked while the crowd cheered her on. 

Samantha just walked over to where Roger sat on the couch and she told the 
girl who was masturbating to move over. The girl looked at her with a 
begrudging look, but then she looked at Roger and she moved away. 

Samantha sat down in her place and then Roger was feeling her tits while she 
just sat under the protection of his arm and watched Mrs. Black being fucked 
in the ass and in the cunt at the same time. It was a real education for 
Samantha. 

She didn't know you could do things like that. She liked to watch the 
fucking going on. It was interesting. Interesting to see the things you 
could do. 

Interesting to watch Mrs. Black's face as it twisted up into groans and 
sighs, and even more interesting to watch the big black cock penetrate deep 
into her ass cheeks going from the black boy's body into her body, while the 
big pole coming up from under her went up her cunt. Samantha wondered what 
that would feel like. 

When Roger brought her home in the early dawn, she felt as if she had lived 
a whole lifetime since she had left the night before. 

After that she often went with Roger to Lily's and to the drive-in. 

They never talked about what they did together with their friends at school, 
but everyone knew they were sort of going steady, because they were always 
seen together holding hands. All the girls were envious of Samantha. 

"How did you ever pin him down? He was the guy who was going to be Mr. 
I'm-Never-Going-to-Go-Steady!" 

Samantha just smiled and shrugged and said she guessed he had changed his 
mind. 

But she knew it wasn't true. 

She knew the inevitable was going to happen and it did. 

The school year ended, and the summer passed by so quickly, and then it was 
the beginning of Fall and Roger was going off to his freshman year of 
college. 

Samantha tried not to show how upset she was. She was really going to miss 
him. 

Although she had gotten into the scene at Lily's and had fooled around with 
lots of guys there, she really only did it because of Roger. 

She always came and left with only him, and he was still her imagine man. 

In the end she cried and clung to him. 

He held her close, the morning he was going to the airport, and told her he 
would miss her and write to her and see her on vacations, but that she 
shouldn't sit around and mope for him, but should go out with out her guys 
and try to enjoy herself. 

"We both knew that I'd be going away this year," he reminded her. 

"I know," she sniffled. "It's just that I really love you Roger. I really 
do." 

"I love you too, Samantha," he said. 

And then he left for college. 

At home Loretta noticed the changes in Samantha's personality over the last 
year. She knew that Samantha had become Roger's lover, but Samantha didn't 
really talk to Loretta about what she and Roger did and where they went. 

Loretta, about this time, had gotten involved with a new lover, a woman 
whose name was Clovis, and so she was involved with the problems of her own 
relationship. 

Still the woman and her ward still talked intimately from time to time, and 
Loretta know that Samantha was growing up. They talked about what she would 
do once she graduated from high school. Samantha only had two credits left 
to finish and she wanted to graduate early, in January. She didn't know what 
she wanted to do afterwards, but she said high school really bored her. She 
wanted to be out in the real world. 

Also, about this time the checks from her father stopped coming. His 
business had gone bankrupt. Larry Clint had never quite recovered from the 
shock of losing his daughter and he never was quite the same after the big 
trial that was splashed all over the papers. Samantha never saw him. She 
hadn't seen him since the trial. 

But she read about the demise of 'Rustler' in the papers-all his assets had 
been liquidated, and she saw the photographs of her father. He looked like a 
broken man. 

She also read the letter from his attorney notifying her that no more 
payments would be forthcoming due to the total liquidation of the Clint 
estate and assets. But the letter added that the lawyer had been advised to 
say that Mr. Clint would pass on a few bucks to his daughter whenever he 
could, as soon as he could, as soon as he got back on his feet again. 
Samantha cried when she read that. 

She thought of her father as she had known him when she was a little girl. 
He had been the sun in her life, the kindest man she'd known. She remembered 
how she had adored him, worshipped the ground he walked on. 

She recalled knowing from the very beginning that her father's work was a 
bit unusual. She didn't know if she was remembering a dream she once had or 
remembering an actual scene she had once witnessed but there was a very 
vivid, early image in her mind of being small and watching her father toy 
with a big-boobed naked model in his room. She had watched him through a 
crack in the door, it seemed, and then sneaked away to bed without being 
discovered. But then she remembered the bad parts too. 

She remembered how he had so often held her on his knee and told her what 
she was going to be like when she grew up, and filled her with his crazy, 
double standard. 

Such as, how he wanted her to be a virgin when she got married, and how he 
was going to give her the biggest coming out debutante ball when she turned 
eighteen, and he didn't want her to be ordinary like other girls. 

She remembered not understanding what he meant by ordinary until later, when 
she reached puberty and started thinking about boys. 

Then she had found out that by ordinary he meant he didn't want her to be a 
slut. And by slut he meant he didn't want her having any sexual activity. 

It seemed crazy, she mused now during the long evenings which she spend 
mostly home that fall after Roger left. How could one man hold such 
differing attitudes? One set for himself and another totally different set 
for his daughter. 

Samantha didn't feel like going out much that fall, and mostly she just 
spent her evenings sitting hone in the living room reading or talking with 
Loretta and Clovis, who was a clinical psychiatrist. Clovis told her that 
most men have double standards. 

"It's sort of a holdover from the old Christian division of women into 
either whores or virgins. You know, the mother-or the slut-syndrome." 

Samantha nodded. "That's exactly the attitude Daddy held. It's funny though, 
how he could want the 'sluts' for himself, but where I was concerned he 
wanted me to remain a virgin until I got married-even if I never got 
married." 

Suddenly she thought of Roger, and a pain went through her heart. She tried 
to push it away and think of something else. She stared at the fire. 

Winter was here again. 

"I just wonder why there can't be some kind of amalgamation of the two. I 
mean, all women like sex, and need it, and have it, and everybody knows 
that. I mean, how do they think mothers would become mothers and bring 
babies into the world if they didn't spread their legs and do it?" Samantha 
asked with a laugh. 

Loretta smiled as she brought in a tray of hot cocoa. She was glad to see 
Samantha spending more time around the house, and not carousing around so 
much. 

And she was glad that she could talk to Clovis. Clovis might really be able 
to give the girl some good insights into herself. 

For Samantha was at a real turning point in her life. She had to decide what 
she was going to do with herself. And she had to find some kind of 
employment, for now, without her father's checks coming in, and with her 
graduation from high school, she r would have to find some way to make money 
on her own. She knew that. 

They talked about it night after night, she and Clovis and Loretta. 

"I don't think I want to go to college. At least not yet. I'm sick of 
studying. To me college would be just another big gilded cage. I want to get 
out into the real world." 

"Well, what are your skills?" Clovis said with usual rational, practical 
manner. 

"I don't know. I don't think I have any." 

"That's nonsense, you just don't recognize what they are. Now did you ever 
do any organizing in school?" She had a pad and a pencil. 

"Yes, I organized a campaign to celebrate International Women's Day at the 
school." 

Clovis smiled, "Good, organizing is a very important skill. It's a skill 
people will pay a lot of money for. What else is there. Think hard!" She 
sipped her cocoa. 

"Well, I can type of course." 

"Have you ever thought of doing any modeling?" 

Samantha was totally surprised. 

"Modeling?" 

"Yes, I was just thinking that you've got a lovely face and a good body. 
You're the right height to be a model and you've got the bones in your 
face." 

Samantha looked a Loretta and laughed. 

She said, "You know, I think I might like that. At least for a little while. 
Just to make some money and until I know what I want to do." 

She shook her head. "It just seems so ironic. Me, Samantha Clint, turning 
out a model-exactly what my father didn't want." 

"Well, I wasn't talking about that kind of modeling." 

"I know. All the same, to him it would have been the same." 

And that's what Samantha started doing in January. 

She made the rounds of the modeling agencies in town, with a portfolio of 
pictures of herself that she had a photographer do. And she began to get 
some jobs. 

They were just small jobs at first-modeling for fashion design classes, 
modeling for art classes. She did not mind modeling in the nude for the art 
students and found she even enjoyed making her living this way. She enjoyed 
wandering around the room afterwards, smoking a cigarette, and looking at 
the sketches the students had done of her body. 

She didn't make a whole lot of money but she made enough to contribute a 
little bit towards food and rent at Loretta's. And she got a lot of 
encouragement. 

A woman at the agency where she was registered told her she had the perfect 
look to go on to a serious career in modeling if she wanted to. 

Samantha began to wish she could afford to have her own place. She loved 
Loretta but she began to want to live on her own. She devoted herself 
exclusively to her modeling career. During this period, also, she made some 
inquiries, without telling Loretta or Clovis, as to the whereabouts of her 
father. She was worried about him. 

When she contacted his lawyer, he would not tell her where her father was. 
The estate had been sold, of course. She called up a few of his old friends, 
but they could not tell her where he was staying either or what he was 
doing, as they said they had hardly seen him at all in the last few months. 

But every once in a while a check with a ten or a twenty would arrive in the 
mail for her and it would be from him. She always looked carefully at the 
postmark, but there was never any return address and the postmark was always 
from a different part of town and sometimes it was from a different city 
altogether. 

It was a difficult period of her life. 

She heard from Roger sometimes, and she saw him at Christmas vacation. They 
got stoned together and went to Lily's-for old time's sake, but it hurt her 
heart to much to have him back again, only to lose him again, and when he 
wrote her from school again she didn't even bother to answer his letter. She 
knew he was seeing someone at school. 

Then she met Arthur. 

Arthur was a photographer who saw some of the shots of her at the agency and 
called her up and said he was interested in photographing her. 

She went to his studio downtown one day with her latest photographs. He 
looked them over and was unimpressed. He said the pictures were 
unprofessional. 

"You need to be photographed by somebody with a real flair. Because you've 
got real flair. Let me do some studies of you. You'll see the difference." 

She had spent a grueling week going to his studio and posing endlessly for 
him, in a thousand different poses, in a thousand different pieces of 
clothes-it seemed. 

She brought all her own clothes over in suitcases, plus he had a huge 
wardrobe of women's clothes. He photographed her in jeans and a T-shirt, in 
evening gowns, in lingerie, in bikinis. He even did a series of nude shots 
of her. 

She didn't feel the least bit self-conscious in front of Arthur, even though 
she modeled for him alone in his big loft studio. His eye towards her seemed 
to be a totally professional one. Until one afternoon when they broke for a 
break and he offered her wine and a joint. They got stoned and high 
together. "You know we could make some really hot photos of you," he said as 
he stared at her leerily across the little card table. She was wearing a 
silk dressing gown that she put on in between shots. Her long silky blonde 
hair cascaded over her shoulders. "Hot shots?" 

"Yeah, we could probably get you into 'Playmate,' or 'Executive Suite.' I've 
got connections." Arthur was a thin, intense-looking man. 

He had a huge head of light curly hair and intense blue eyes and he wore 
gold-rimmed glasses. He had big hands which were surprisingly agile and 
delicate. 

Samantha laughed. "You do know who I am, don't you?" 

"Who are you?" he peered across the table at her. 

"Well, my last name is Clint, as in Larry Clint." 

"Oh-my-God! I never made the connection. So you're the little girl who was 
locked up in that big mansion and raped and tortured." 

"The papers exaggerated. It was nothing like that." 

"Huh! What do you know. Well, what do you say? You'd be a sure thing. If we 
went to the editors of 'Playmate' with some pictures of you, special ones 
that I could take of you, and told them who you were-wow! They would eat you 
right up!" 

Samantha laughed and played with the stem of her wine glass. 

"And what about you? Would you eat me up too?" 

He smiled. "Just open your legs, sweetheart, and let me in." 

She stared at him. Then she opened her legs. 

He licked his lips. He got up and came over to her. 

Then he pulled aside the flaps of her kimono and went down on her. 

When his tongue hit her cunt, she started to moan and writhe. 

It had been a long time, such a long time, since she had made love with a 
man. She had screwed with Roger over Christmas, but somehow this was 
different. Here, now she felt like a totally attractive woman. She loved the 
feel of Arthur's tongue in her cunt and she moaned and ran her fingers 
through Arthur's curly hair. 

With Roger she had just felt like a twirpy little girl all over again, in 
puppy love with him, and playing second-fiddle to his girlfriends up at 
college. 

She was reaching for his prick with her hands, reaching for his crotch, his 
zipper, his fly. She could feel his big dick hard down the leg of his pants 
with her foot. 

But she was surprised when he pulled away. 

"Fantastic! Don't move! Hold it!" 

He ran to set up his cameras. He got some great shots of her sitting in her 
red silk kimono, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted, her fingers at 
her cunt, gently pulling it open, her cunt, big, aroused, furry and wet, and 
her boobs bulging out beneath the kimono. Then he set up some cushions and a 
set for her. 

It was funny the way he worked, she thought. She wondered if this was how 
the photographers of her father's magazine had worked. 

Arthur would set up the general picture as he wanted it-with her lying on 
her stomach on some cushions, her ass propped high in the air, her hair 
falling around her boobs. 

He would check the lighting and all. 

And then he would come to her and excite her. 

"Well how do you think all those girls get their pussy mounds so wet and 
hot-looking?" he asked her as he parted her ass cheeks and pressed his face 
into them. 

He licked her anus until it was pink and wet and then he sank his face into 
her furry cunt and made her cunt lips open with pink gleaming cunt meat. 

"Perfect! Spread your ass cheeks so we can see it! Don't move!" 

Finally when he had all the shots he wanted that way, he let himself take 
his pleasure. 

His prick was stiff from all the exciting erotic views he had had of her. 

He came and stood over her. Her whole body was glowing pink from the various 
lights had put on her. But now she pulled herself up by his legs and pulled 
on his zipper. 

He pushed his prick into her mouth and let her suck on it for a while, but 
he really wanted to push his meat into that hot tight wet twat of hers. 

So when he started to move down her body, she spread her legs good and wide. 
He put his prick in her, slick and hard and fast. It slid right in, all the 
way. 

Her pussy clamped around him and it sucked him. She sucked his cock with her 
wet pussy meat and when he slid his cock out there was a hot sucking sound. 

"Wow!" Arthur said. 

"Kiss me," Samantha said. 

He pressed his thin lips to her hot full ones and their tongues stroked each 
other. He kept filling her cunt with his long full thick cock strokes. 

She put her legs up around behind his back and crossed her ankles to keep 
herself tight against him. Then he was just moving his cock in her pussy in 
and out, in and out, deep inside her wet moist cunt. They were both 
groaning. 

"This is so good," she moaned. "Honey, you and me, we can go all the way 
together." 

He blew his wad into her wet meat hole. 

* * * 

The outcome of that hot scene of love was that Samantha sold a hot spread of 
photos to 'Playmate' magazine for a record sum of money. 

When they found out she was Larry Clint's daughter, they decided to run a 
big section on her, how being Larry Clint's daughter had affected her, about 
the trial, and about her attitudes on sex and morality. When she told 
Loretta about it, Loretta was a little mad. 

"Well, I just did it for the money," Samantha told her. "Now I'll be able to 
get my own place now, and I have a lot of other job offers coming in 
already." 

Loretta smiled. "I guess you have to do what's right for you," she said. 

And so, Samantha found herself a modest apartment in town, near Arthur's 
studio, and started to make a lot of money as a model. After her 'Playmate' 
spread came out, she had offers to make commercials, to be in movies. 

She never forgot about her father, but with all the excitement in her life, 
she was very busy and as her inquiries turned up nothing about him, she let 
him slip from her mind. 

Until one day when she got a letter. 

It said simply, "Samantha, come and see me." And it gave an address. 

Samantha was very excited. She put on some of her new clothes, a really hot 
looking red leotard top and a pair of sexy black leather pants and a pair of 
her new black leather boots. She washed and combed her hair and stuck an 
emerald pin in it. 

And then she donned her new fox fur coat. . 

The address was in a rather seedy part of town, but the house was one of the 
nice ones on the block. The house was being painted. 

She range the bell. 

A strange woman came to the door and looked at her through the glass. Then 
she turned away and in a few moments, Larry came to the door himself. 

He looked okay, she thought as she crossed the threshold and said hello. 

He was smoking a fat cigar. He had put on a little weight and there were 
more lines on his face, but he smiled when he saw her and he invited her 
into a room off the side of the hall. She stepped into a living room with 
lots of books in boxes. 

"Whatddya drink?" he asked her. 

"Can you make me a martini?" 

"One martini." He poured himself some bourbon. 

She saw the picture of herself, in the centerfold, her beaver spread. It was 
the shot with her ass propped up high on the pillows. Her firm tits stood 
out like masts on a sailing ship. She closed the magazine. He saw her. 

"Yeah, I saw your spread in 'Playmate.' You got nice stuff, kid. But then 
you should. So did you mother." He brought her drink over and set it down. 

She smiled and sipped it. She could hardly believe she was having this 
conversation with her own father. The past seemed long, long ago. 

"Who was that?" she asked referring to the woman in the kimono who answered 
the door. Her father was in a kimono too, and a pair of pants. 

"Just a lady friend of mine. So tell me, how've you been." 

"Fine Daddy, it sure is good to see you! I got all your checks, and then the 
tens and twenties. It was good of you to send them. I worried so about you, 
you know. I tried to get in touch with you through the lawyers, but they 
wouldn't tell me where you were." 

"Yeah. Well, sometimes you gotta be alone. Right?" 

"Right. You look so good Daddy. What are you doing these days?" 

"Well, I've got me a little magazine in the works again. Nothing as big as 
'Rustler,' but with a little time, and a little luck. I've got some backers, 
and I'm throwing in everything I've got left, which ain't much, but ... " 

"Oh really? Will it be along the same lines as 'Rustler?' 

"Yeah same stuff. Cheesecake. But with a more political point of view. 
Hard-bit editorials, good journalistic articles, hot fiction, you know the 
type." 

He looked her up and down leerily. "You look like you been doing okay 
yourself. Nice piece of animal skin," he touched the fox fur. 

"Oh, it's nothing much, it's only a jacket. Daddy...." 

He said nothing. 

"I'm sorry about ... what happened. Between us, with the courts and the 
newspapers and everything. Somehow it didn't turn out the way I thought it 
would. I-I was frightened and I was frightened of you, and well, I had to 
get away from you. I did the only thing I could. Can you ever forgive me?" 
She found herself trembling. 

All her old love for her old man was coming back to her now, as she sat on 
the sofa in his living room, a grown woman herself, and supporting herself. 

"Sure, yeah, well, the past is passed. It's all over and done with. I guess 
I didn't make such a good father after all. That Miss Smithe, did she turn 
out to be all right? I never did like her myself." He poured himself another 
drink. 

"Loretta? Yes, I'm very close to her. She's become a close friend, like a 
mother." 

There was silence after that. 

Samantha crossed her legs. 

She started to say, "Daddy, I have a little idea ... " 

Simultaneously he began to say, "I have a little proposition ... " 

They both stopped and waited for the other to begin, they spoke at the same 
time again, then stopped. They both laughed. 

"You first." 

"No, you first." 

"Go ahead, kitten. What?" 

"Well, Daddy, I was just thinking, wondering, if I could help you with your 
new magazine in any way. I'm a good organizer. And I can write and type. And 
I know a lot about modeling. And maybe I could even put some money into it. 

Larry Clint laughed. 

"Well, I don't think I want you money, but I was thinking something along 
those lines myself. Maybe we could talk about it." 

They talked and talked and talked, and then Lynne, the woman who came to the 
door, came in and talked some more with them about it. 

In the end Clint admitted he could use some more cash up front, so to speak, 
so Samantha invested in his new company. They tried to keep her involvement 
with him out of the papers. But the word soon leaked out. It turned out to 
be good publicity. 

When the first issue of the magazine appeared on the stands it was sold out 
immediately. 

The first issue contained a photo essay on the daughter of the publisher. 
Yes, Samantha Clint spread her beaver for her father's magazine, and then 
there were some pictures of the father and daughter, reunited, Larry's arm 
around his girl. 

She became his editorial assistant, and quickly began learning the business 
from scratch. 

The worked late nights together, until finally the inevitable happened. 

Their attraction for each other had existed all their lives, and now it 
simply come to its natural fruition. It happened simply in this way: 

One night they were sitting up late together in the little offices of the 
new magazine on the top floor of Larry's house. Lynne, his current mistress, 
had already gone to bed. 

They were going over some photos of some new models, trying to decide who 
would be in their March issue. Looking over the different shots of cunts and 
beaver, tits and ass, Larry suddenly laughed and said to his beautiful 
blonde daughter: 

"You know honey, none of these girls can hold a candle to you." 

She looked up and smiled. She was weary. 

Then it just happened. They moved across the floor towards each other. 

She was in his arms and they were kissing. 

His prick got hard. 

She felt his cock under his pants. She looked up into his face seriously, 
aware of the seriousness and the significance of this moment. 

They both wanted it. 

Slowly, hardly breathing, she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it off, He 
stroked her breasts lovingly. She started to unzip her pants and she pulled 
them off. 

He was taking off his pants too. 

They stretched out together on the floor, on top of all the glossy beaver 
shots. 

He put his prick to her pussy hole. His finger touched her pussy. 

Her pussy lips were wet and spread, open and waiting for him. 

"Fuck me, Daddy," she whispered.
