It was the most horrible day of her life. The juvenile judge believed the Ogdens, and although her parents objected, and said she'd always been a good girl, there was a drive going on in the city to clean up juvenile delinquency. Terrified, she listened to the gruff old man on the bench sentence her to an indeterminate term at the State Home for Girls.
"B-But I didn't do what Lew said," she protested through her tears. "I didn't!"
The judge frowned down at her, as if disturbed because she'd cut short the echo of his words through the huge, serene courtroom. "A lie," he informed her in a quavering self-righteous voice, "refusal to admit your sin and repent is far worse than the actual deed."
The accusation made her furious. She stomped her foot, and opened her mouth, ready to tell him what he could do with his black robe and dumb courtroom. But then the matron was there, had hold of her arm, and she was being dragged toward the door marked Detainees.
Oh God! she cried mentally. God! God! God! Not only had Lew torn out her cherry, her prize, but now they were taking her to a place she'd heard horrid stories about. And nothing anyone could say or do – not Mummy, not Daddy, not the teachers who'd written letters saying what a nice girl she was – was going to stop them.
The State Home for Girls was a cluster of high red brick buildings at the end of a long, barren road. But it didn't look like a prison. And the matron assured her it wasn't – she said the place was more like a live-in school, and that the girls, those who behaved and complied with the rules, causing no trouble, were usually paroled in less than a year.
"A whole year?"
The woman smiled and said it wasn't such a long time, but Wendy was certain she'd never survive that she'd be old and gray and probably crazy by the time they released her. Wide-eyed, she watched the buildings come at them as the station wagon with mesh over the windows sped down the narrow road.
Inside, the admittance building was drab and smelled of strong disinfectant. There were girls in baggy green dresses mopping the floor. Some grinned, others stared speculatively. She hurried after the matron, to a bare room with a wooden bench along one wall, where another matron told her to peel for a strip-frisk.
"Everything!" snapped the woman when she hesitated over her panties and bra.
"There's nothing but me underneath," she offered, afraid of the woman, who looked more like a man, and who was watching her with the same glint in the eye that Lew had had when he first saw her small pink titties.
Without a word, the big woman stepped forward and undid the snaps at her back. The bra fell from her arms. She blushed. She wasn't used to standing naked before prying eyes. And now she noted that some of the girls from the hall, those who had watched her come in, those who hadn't smiled, were grouped at the door.
"Now the drawers." The matron folded muscular arms over pendulous breasts. Her expression told Wendy she had five seconds to take off the panties… or have it done for her.
Chewing her lip to keep from crying, and so embarrassed she thought sure she'd die, Wendy complied. She pushed the nylon down her trim legs, stepped free of the garment. Then she stood, face burning, trembling, not knowing what to do with her hands. But despite the embarrassment, the shame of being ogled, there was an unexplainable tingle deep in her tight red pussy.
"Yummy! A carrot-top." One of the older girls at the door hungrily eyed her sex.
"I like her ass," said another. "Lookit the dimples. I'd give all the smokes in my locker to get into that one."
"Awright, knock it off," bellowed the matron. "Get the fuck away from that door before I throw you all in the hole on bread and water for thirty days." She made a threatening move toward them. The girls flew from the door. She turned back to her charge. "Bend over and spread 'em."
Wendy gaped not knowing what she meant. Her tight little cunthole was wet and in her chest and nipples, there was a tightness she'd felt only once before when Lew broke through her cherry, and began to fuck his hard cock in and out, in and out.
"Your ass cheeks," explained the matron. "Open up 'n' lemme see what you're hiding down there."
"D-Do I have to?" she squeaked, mortified.
Again the fat matron stepped forward the hot look back in her lidded brown eyes.
Oh God, no! thought Wendy, don't let her touch me again. Quickly she turned, bent with her plump rear in the air, and reached back and spread her cheeks wide.
It seemed to take a long time. She felt the breeze from the hall lick her moist slit and quivering asshole. She felt the woman's eyes, heard what she supposed was heavy breathing. Then she felt the starchy white dress the matron wore brush the back of her thighs.
Suddenly there were rough fingers probing her sex. "Ow! Ow! Don't!"
"Hold still, honey. I can't see a fucking thing with all that red curly hair you got." The matron opened the lips of her cunt, as Lew had done before fucking his long veiny dick up her belly.
Wendy gasped. Her legs grew rubbery as the fingers dug deeper and deeper, grating back and forth across her tender pink clit. Was this necessary? she wondered. Routine? Or was she special – was the matron like the girls in the hall the bull-dykes she'd heard stories about from the kids at school who knew girls who'd done time at the home? She tried not to think about what the woman was doing; tried not to like it. But the fingers knew just where to touch her to make her wiggle and moan. And by the time the fat matron was done, her sopping wet little cunt was on fire, and she wished – oh, how she wished – that Lew or someone with a stiff dick would come up behind her and fill the hot, hairy hole.
After receiving her clothing issue – two drab green dresses, baggy underclothes, and socks and state made shoes – and being assigned to a bed in the dormitory that slept fifty girls, she was given a pass and told that Doctor Bruce, the institution's psychiatrist, was waiting to see her.
"All the new girls see the doctor," explained Mrs. Hamilton, the pleasant elderly matron in charge of the dorm. "You have to be interviewed so our classification committee can set you up with an individual schooling and work program, dear. Don't be frightened."
Wendy didn't mind the gnarled hand on her bottom. It patted gently, as her daddy sometimes did when he hugged and kissed her good night. The reassurance was the first kindly word she'd heard since entering this awful place. She felt better. Perhaps Doctor Bruce would help her, she reasoned. She could imagine him shouting into a phone, telling the judge what a frightful mistake he'd made. Optimistic, thinking she'd found a friend in the gray-haired dorm matron and perhaps another in the doctor, she raced down the hall. She tried not to think about what was going to happen that night when the lights went out in the dorm, and the girls, the ones who had ogled her, saw her cute ass slip naked into the bed.
She arrived breathless at the door marked Psychiatrist, and knocked shyly. "Come," called a male voice from within. "It's open."
Doctor Bruce sat behind a desk cluttered with bulging manila folders. He eyed her over the top of steel-rimmed glasses. He watched her close the door, then motioned her into the straight-backed wooden chair at the side of the desk.
They exchanged cursory greetings, and then the doctor held up his hand for silence while he browsed through the sentence reports in her folder. She sat rigid, trying not to breathe, still unable to accept the fact that she had been committed as a juvenile delinquent. It was a mere two weeks since Lew had tricked her into the house, got her drunk, and taken what he wanted and upended her life. It was all wrong: unfair! She wanted to shout it at the top of her lungs, to scream and break things and make them listen to her. Yet she was beginning to feel a strange sense of excitement at being there. It was almost as if there were a part of her – a secret Wendy no one knew – looking forward to what was going to happen when the girls from the hall and the matron who had finger fucked her pussy, trapped her somewhere in the maze of red brick corridors, and did the things to her body that Lew had started to do.
She almost jumped straight out of the chair when Doctor Bruce cleared his throat, glancing from the folder to her, them back to the folder. "I… I didn't do what they say," she offered softly.
"Oh?" The doctor's gaze moved appraisingly down the front of her body. The tentlike dress hid most of her trim figure, but the twin points of her breasts refused to be subdued. "What exactly didn't you do?"
"I… I didn't come in while he was asleep on the sofa and… and take out his… his thing!" She looked pleadingly into his eyes. Again she felt the hot blood rush into her face. He didn't believe her – she could tell by the look, the arched brows. He was staring as the judge had stared when Lew and Penny told their version of the story, the way the boys in the movies sometimes stared at the girls who giggled while whacking them off.
Doctor Bruce adjusted his glasses and stood. He studied her a moment, then walked behind the chair and placed his bony hand on her shoulder. "Well now," he said, "suppose you tell me exactly how it did happen."
But before she could open her mouth to object or comply – she wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to tell – the doctor was helping her out of the chair, across the office, and into an anteroom equipped with a black leather couch, a padded chair, and a heavy oak door which he closed abruptly behind them. "Lie down," he directed, "Relax and tell me about it."
It was stupid! She wanted to tell him so – that she was only thirteen, too young to be crazy, and didn't need to lie down on a dumb couch where no one could see them. But now she was remembering how Lew had begun, how he lured her to the sofa, and tricked her into letting him feel her tits. "It… it was awful!" she heard herself saying, falling back on the bed-like thing in spite of herself. "I wouldn't let him at first. But he kept calling me a punk kid, and I let him feel me because he wouldn't stop saying it. Then I got dizzy because of the drink, and he unbuttoned my blouse and began to play with me there… my tits. And then he grabbed my hand and made me take his prick out of his pants." Remembering made her tight little cunthole pulse. She opened and closed her fingers, almost able to feel Lew's big stiff dick throbbing in the palm of her hand.
"Close your pretty green eyes," soothed Doctor Bruce. His hand touched her brow, and came slowly down over her lids. He moved the chair closer – so close she could feel his breath. "Was that the first time? I mean, had you ever before held a man's cock?"
"Nooo!" She squirmed under his touch, wondering why he'd asked that. He didn't have to say cock! she thought. Now, with her eyes closed and the dirty word fresh in her ears, she could see the fat fiery tip. It was there, inside her head, humping its way up her pussy. It made her tremble and moan. "I… I only let boys feel my titties," she said breathlessly. "And sometimes, if I really like someone, I let him lie on top and pretend to be doing me."
"Tell me about that," said the doctor, his hand moving to her shoulder once more. "About the last time you let a boy lie on top and dry-fuck you."
"Oh…! Don't make me," sobbed Wendy, not wanting to remember any more. Her hot little cunt was so sore! The small patch of red hair had suffered every indignity imaginable, and talking about it, the mere mention of sex, was making her hot all over.
"Did you like it when the boy came?" persisted the doctor.
"I… I don't know!"
His hand moved close to her breast. "Try to remember how it felt when he pushed it between your legs. Wendy. Was it in a car?"
"Yes. In… in the back seat after school." She chewed her lip, recalling how good it was when Larry – the boy from high school who sometimes dated Tish – made her open her legs, and pressed the bulge in his pants into the gap at her crotch. She had felt the round cockhead boring in through the material, and for a moment, when he kissed her, she had wished he'd take it out; wished he'd take off his clothes and hers, and shove it all the way up her tight little pussy. But how had Doctor Bruce known it had happened in a car?
"Keep your eyes closed!" he snapped, trying to hide the stiffness standing tall from the open fly of his pants.
Wendy gasped, and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "P-Put it away," she whispered, still seeing it, knowing now why he'd closed the door to the anteroom. Her belly grew taut. Her hot cunthole dripped, wetting the baggy white cotton panties.
"Tell me again how Lew made you take it out of his pants," breathed the doctor close to her ear.
"U-uh." She shook her head furiously. She knew now – knew what he wanted. Worse, she wasn't sure what she wanted any more. For although she knew fucking was dirty, a sin, she couldn't forget the thrill of holding a rigid cylinder of cockflesh inside her.
"Is this what he made you do?" Doctor Bruce gripped her wrist, and steered her tiny trembling hand to his long cock.
"I won't do it. I… you can't make me!" But he didn't have to make her. Her fingers, as if controlled by someone else – the other Wendy – closed tight around the hard shaft. She sobbed. It was just like Lew, throbbing against the palm of her hand, big and steely and so fat she knew it would never fit where he wanted to put it.
"Suck it!" said Doctor Bruce.
No! She was imagining this! He was a doctor, and she was only a little girl. Hadn't Daddy said she was only a baby time and time again? She had never before thought of herself as such – had always considered herself very grown-up. But she had never before been asked to take a prick into her mouth.
Hand at the back of her head, telling her to keep her eyes closed, he sat on the edge of the couch and pressed his meat to her lips. "Eat me!" he told her. "Be a good little cocksucker and I'll say something nice when you come up for parole."
Whimpering, she tried to twist her face away from his rod. But then his free hand was under the hem of her dress, lifting it high on her waist, exposing her panties. And before she could utter a cry, his fingers – just as Lew had done – were beneath the loose legband, poking into her hole.
She moaned in protest and joy. For although her mind objected, her pussy clutched at his fingers, greedily sucking them into her. Her small clit sprang up hard, and as his fingers grew wet with her cunt juice, stroking in and out, in and out, deeper each time, her thighs and mouth opened and the lovely round cock head slipped smoothly into her face.
"Ahhhhh." The doctor humped half the length of the veiny shaft in, and paused. "That's a girl. Um! Wonderful! All Doctor Bruce's nice little girls get a big lolly to suck on." He pressed the rest of the prick home, driving in until the glans pulsed at the back of her throat.
Wendy opened her eyes and stared in wonder at the root of the thing in her face. It was so big – bigger than anything! Yet there it was, jumping inside her mouth, lying firm on her tongue. And it tasted good. It tasted like Daddy after he shaved and she kissed him: hot and tangy. And it smelled of bath powder, and something… something like when she went to the bathroom and slipped and wiped shit onto her fingers. That's what it was, she decided: the stink from his asshole, stronger than hers, more manly.
The fingers deep in her pussy suddenly slipped free. She protested, gurgling loudly on his shaft. The doctor laughed. "In a moment, dear. We have to get comfortable."
As abruptly as it had entered, the cock popped out, wet from her lips. "Oh…!"
"Sit up, my sweet little cocksucker," directed the doctor. "So I can undress you."
Panting, Wendy complied. She felt the rough hands on her body, stripping the dress off over her head and tearing at the baggy undergarments. It was all so unreal. Everything since the day Lew lured her into the house and introduced her to screwing was like something she'd read in a book or seen at the movies. It couldn't be happening to her, she reasoned; she was a good girl! She'd never let anyone so much as touch her red pussy, and now…
"Magnificent!" exclaimed Doctor Bruce as the white panties slipped from her whiter thighs. He pushed her back onto the cool leather. "Another moment. Close your eyes and think about the boy in the back of the car – about how good it felt."
It was all so horrible and wonderful at the same time. She couldn't help doing, the things he suggested, couldn't stop herself. Her cunt was on fire, and her titties ached. All she could think of was cock: hot, steely man meat. Her pussy cried, Fuck me! Fuck me! Put it in! She didn't care any more about it being a sin. She didn't care any more about anything except the thing she could still taste.
She felt him climbing onto the couch, and she opened her eyes and saw the stiff prick jerking above her face. She saw his fat, hairy balls, the crack of his ass, and the wiry black stuff all over down there. She didn't understand why he was doing like that, knees wide astraddle her head, wrinkled sacs dangling, moist breath so close to the little pink sheath that burned with the need to be filled. It was a mystery until she felt his sand papery tongue between her open thighs, felt it licking her cunthole, sucking her.
"Oh! Doctor Bruce!" Her ass shot up high off the black leather. Instinctively her hands closed tight at the base of his cock. It came down, the bloated purple-red tip parting her lips once more.
"Suck it good," groaned the doctor into her cunt. His tongue coaxed her, lashing from the hole low in the warm valley between the halves of her bottom up to her vulva. He flicked the wet dart at her clit, then stuck it in. His hands cupped her cheeks, spreading the crack, opening front and rear holes for his lapping.
Drawing his prick into her face, Wendy sucked. She sucked noisily, listening to herself and thinking it did indeed sound like a little girl sucking a lolly-like Doctor Bruce said. She swirled her tongue over and around the pulsing glans, against the cute aperture. It made her dizzy, drunk as on the day Lew first did the magic things to her pussy. It wasn't the liquor, she now realized. It was cock! Stiff man meat! Dick – any dick – made her high and giddy and unable to control the little red curly wedge the doctor was tonguing.
"Ah! Ohhhh!" The shaft in her mouth began to stoke in and out. A finger twisted up her tight asshole. "Suck harder!" demanded the doctor. "I – oh, baby! Sweet cocksucking baby!"
Wendy knew how he felt. She felt it too: the electric tingle spreading through her lower abdomen, and her sex. She sucked harder, as hard as she could, spittle dripping down her chin as he fucked the stiffness faster and faster in and out of her mouth. She was somewhere in outer space, riding a shooting star into unexplored territory. Her clit strained for the gentle flicks of his tongue. The brown velvet pocket between the cheeks of her ass breathed on his dipping finger. Her hips bucked like a belly dancer's, and her white, dimpled behind was churning round and round, faster and faster. She was grinding her pussy, her sopping wet cunthole, into the doctor's whiskery face. It was making her gasp with the thrill of being a woman.
"Do it!" she cried around his cock. "Oh, please do it to me!"
Opening his mouth wide at her cunthole, the doctor blew into her belly. She thrashed, moaning and blubbering incoherently around the thing using her face. She cupped his nuts, tentatively moved her finger into the hot crack of his ass. His sphincter opened. Driving her finger into his rectum, she pumped her hips high, then higher still, reaching for the orgasm Penny Ogden had snatched away when she walked into the living room and made Lew stop fucking his wonderful, big prick up her virgin cunthole.
"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ahhhhhh!" Slamming his cock in to the hilt, mashing his balls in her face, Doctor Bruce's fingers became steel claws tearing at the tender flesh along the inside of her thighs.
Wendy gagged, unable to breathe; he was smothering her. She could feel the fat cock head in her throat, cutting off her air. She tried to push him away. Where a moment before she'd felt nothing but pleasure, she now forgot the exquisite sensations coursing through her young loins. She tried to twist out from beneath the huge, hairy bulk humping and fucking so furiously. She thought for sure his prick was going to burrow through the back of her skull. She tried to cry out, but the rod in her mouth was too big; too swollen, too hard. And as she gurgled, trying to suck in air but doing no more than draw on the slick glans, the thing started to spit. Hot goo began to spurt out into her gullet.
"Suck it! Suck it! S-Suck it all out!" He pulled back, and then drove the prick in further. He pulled back again, slipping free and pissing cum in her eyes, and up her nose. He allowed what seemed to Wendy like a tenth of a second before the monster slid again into her face.
Then she was cuming too: overwhelmed, afraid, not knowing what she felt any more. She was gulping his cream, and cooing and sobbing and laughing. Her clit, the magic thing in her tight cunthole, was singing like the strings of a sweet violin. She was lost, confused, torn between right and wrong: the pain, the pleasure, the fear. It wasn't at all like they said in the books. This was violent, uncontrollable lust: a thing which took possession of her and refused to let go.
Yet she continued to suck. Willingly! Greedily! She drank the thick, salty cream, kneading his balls and fingering his asshole. She threw her cunt up into his face and moved her hips frantically, wanting the thrill of orgasm to last forever and ever.
And it seemed to, the glorious sensations rippling through her, boiling, bubbling, quivering with sensation. She couldn't believe, with her small experience with sex, that it could really feel so wonderful. Of course, she had heard all the rumors and even read a few things about how intense an orgasm could be, but she didn't realize it could get this strong without even fucking.
She was coming right now, more with the sexual atmosphere and the taste of sex in her mouth. It was a wonderful taste, one she could never tire of, no matter how degrading the circumstances of her sexual encounters. And if her experience so far was any indication, those encounters could well prove to be very degrading.
He continued to come, and she sucked it down with wild passion, every last drop, not wanting a single bit to fall to the ground. She wanted it all!
"Oooooh, that's good," he moaned. "That's so good, baby, so very good… mmmmmmm! Yeah, you know what you're doing. For a chick of your tender years, you make out pretty fucking well. You suck that dick of mine like you've been sucking them for years and years."
She tried not to hear him, but continued on with her oral maneuvering, up and down on the stiff pole, up and down, forcing his spew up into her mouth.
"Oooohh, yeah, yeah, swallow it… swallow it all down, you dirty bitch… mmmmm! Do it! Suck my fucking cock, you beautiful cunt!"
His ranting screams were, unnecessary, in truth. She was going to suck him dry no matter what he screamed. In fact, if he had tried to push her away from his ejaculating cock at that moment he would have had a very serious fight on his hands. She was there to stay, for as long as his cock stayed hard and continued to drool that delicious metallic fluid that she was sucking in by the pint.
"Ohhhh… ohhh, too much, too much… you're fantastic, you dirty cunt… I love it. I just love it. You do things to me, sister. I don't think I should let you out of my sight, as a matter of fact. I should have you on twenty-four hour call. Never know when I might need to examine you again, hey? Have you got any objections to that, my dear?"
The cock was beginning to go soft. She raised up off of it and stared at him in exhaustion. She stuck her tongue out and licked up all the residual come that hung to her lips and chin and hung off of her nose.
"Tasted good, did it?"
"Yes… yes it did," she said sullenly, finding it impossible to deny the obvious.