Taunt

The long-legged American girl prowled onto the small stage, her openly provocative, overtly sexual strut challenging the audience to pay attention...

       Yeah, look at me – I'm a hot little bitch, aren't I?
      You want me, you know you want me...

Sandy shook loose her hair from its tight bun at the back of her head, letting the glorious blonde-streaked, honey-coloured mass tumble down to her waist. A cheeky gaze from light hazel eyes framed by dark lashes flicked over the watchers as she eased down the zip at the front of her simple costume. She swung herself slowly around one of the steel poles set into the stage, letting the short pseudo-nurse's uniform gape open, allowing the room a glimpse of her firm breasts in their skimpy scrap of lace.
       Striptease – the word was the description and Sandy was very, very good at it. She moved with the music, enjoying the heavy beat as she revealed her youthful body by inches, loving the effect she knew she was having on those watching her. Making people so hot and hard they couldn't think was a real buzz.
       As she danced she surreptitiously cast her eye over the patrons of the small club: were there any potential customers here tonight?
       Yes, there – the slab-faced, middle-aged woman sitting alone at a table by edge of the catwalk, a lit cigarette lying forgotten in the ashtray in front of her. The woman was wearing a suit – probably a corporate wage-slave with a nothing life - and staring at the stripper as if she was the most beautiful thing she'd ever laid eyes on. Sandy flashed her a smile, pleased when the woman flushed – oh yeah, here was a live one.
       The girl played the rest of her routine squarely to the dyke, not worried about the club manager taking her to task for excluding the rest of the audience. Frisky always got a cut from anything extra Sandy, or any of the performers, earned. The woman was staring at the nearly naked girl, obviously transfixed. Sandy grabbed a pole for support and pushing her groin hard up against it, supplely bent backwards so she was effectively dangling upside down in front of her target.
       "My name's Sandy," her grin was a pure, sensual 'come hither', "if you wanna look me up later."
      Sandy hauled herself upright and then, smiling cheekily back over her shoulder, she bent from the waist, straight-legged and feet apart, giving the older woman an inviting peek at smooth labia neatly intersected by the thin strap of her thong...

Sandy was in a good mood. The dyke had been generous, giving her a open-handed tip for her services on top of the asked fee. Even after Frisky got his cut it was still a substantial amount she'd been able to hand over to Janene for safe-keeping. Only a few more months, maybe a year, she thought, and she'd have enough to get herself and her daughter the hell away from her boyfriend. The stripper smiled grimly – Joel would hit the roof if he knew she was turning tricks and he'd hit her if he knew it was with a woman! He was such a fucking homophobe and where the fuck did he get off trying to control her?! He thought that he had some sort of exclusive rights to her body, like it was his decision who she fucked! What really tore Sandy up though was that he didn't mind so much that she stripped, the idea of other people watching 'his woman' was a huge turn-on for him, stroked his ego or something, but no one was allowed to touch. Except for his mates...
      Sandy shook herself, she didn't want to think about that. She was going to think about her beautiful daughter and what a wonderful future they had ahead of them...

So how did a nice girl from a nice small town American family end up as a stripper in London?
      Sex. Pure and simple.
      Sandy had been fascinated by sex from the moment she first spied on her parents making love. She'd sucked her first cock when she was nine (the babysitter's boyfriend) and licked her first pussy soon after (the babysitter). But somehow, despite her interest, she'd managed to hold on to her cherry until she was thirteen. And what a pointless experience that had been! An older boy at school had coaxed her into a storage room in the gym one afternoon - not that he'd needed to coax very hard. Sandy had willingly lain down and spread her thighs for him, eager to experience whatever it was that made her mother's cheeks glow with happiness whenever Dad looked at her a certain way.
      It was.. disappointing. He pushed into her, thrust a few times then grunted and came. The girl had stared at him as he grinned dopily and squeezed a small tit.
      "That was great, babe."
      "What was?" she growled. "I thought I was supposed to feel something."
      The boy went red in the face.
      "Well, maybe – " he snapped, defensively angry "if you weren't such a slut you would've!"
      "What the hell are talking about?"
      "Oh come on," he sneered, "if a girl doesn't feel anything it's because she sleeps around and her cunt's slack . Everyone knows that!"
      Sandy glared at him, inarticulate with fury.
      "You miserable, fucking wiener!" she spat as she struggled to sit up, "I have never had anyone before in my life and god knows I wish you hadn't been my first!"
      "Ah, I don't need this shit," he dismissed her with a lift of his chin, "I'll go find myself a proper girl, not a titless slut like you."
      He'd stalked out leaving Sandy to sit in the small puddle of cooling semen leaking from between her thighs, too angry for tears.
      It was so fucking unfair! How dare he say something like that!
      But – she bit her lip – was he right? True she'd never fucked anyone before but she'd been... touching herself for years. Did that count? The unhappy and confused girl slunk out to the toilets and cleaned herself up, then, really not wanting to talk to anybody she decided to skip the rest of the afternoon's classes and went home.

The next few weeks were uncomfortable. News of her activities had gotten around school, as it does, and she was faced with a mixture of contempt and twisted jealousy from the girls, and leering suggestiveness from the boys. After all, the reasoning probably went, she'd put out once, she might do it again... Sandy responded to the clumsy propositions with icy disdain – no way was she going to give them the satisfaction of thinking they were right about her!
      But she was still confused. Talking to her mother was out of the question; she loved her ma but... eeuuww, no! Same with her married sister, Marcie wasn't the right person to talk to either and her friends had turned their backs on her. No way was she going to spill her guts to those bitches anyway, so, as a last resort, Sandy timidly approached Gail, her mother's sister.
      Aunty Gail was sympathetic and pragmatic, and most importantly, non-judgemental. The older woman spoke frankly with Sandy about sex and her own experiences, allaying the girl's fears that she'd done something wrong. When Sandy poured out her heart about how she'd been treated, Gail had cuddled her and said he was a stupid little boy, not worth the anguish. She'd gone on to say that sometimes stupid little boys grew up to be decent men and Sandy wasn't to fret, the right boy was out there for her somewhere, someone who'd treat her like the precious thing she was...
      Sandy had to wait an unconscionably – for her – long time, before the 'right boy' showed up. She'd just turned fourteen when she met Reuben. The college boy was twenty-two, slender, athletic and beautiful, and he'd treated the besotted young girl gently. He'd taken her to bed – after she'd pestered him for days – and finally Sandy really understood just how wonderful it was to make love. Rueben was perfect and Sandy fell head over heels in love with him, so much so that when the summer finished and he headed back to Chicago to resume his studies, she followed.

It was easier to leave home than she'd anticipated. She packed some clothes, left a note for her parents – that didn't give too many details – and spent all her savings on a one-way train ticket. She got to Chicago without any hassles and then it was only a matter of tracking her love down. Even that was easy; Reuben had talked a lot about himself and his life, and Sandy had hung on his every word...
      Reuben had been very unimpressed when he'd bumped into Sandy lurking about the campus looking for him, and even less impressed when she'd gushed out, in front of his sniggering friends, her plan of moving in with him. He'd scowled and grabbed her by the elbow, his fingers digging into her flesh as he roughly marched her out of earshot of his buddies.
      "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he'd hissed, beautiful dark eyes narrowed in anger.
      "I – I came to find you, Reuben, I love –"
      "Don't be stupid! You're just a kid!"
      "But, but what you said..." Sandy dissolved into tears as she felt her heart breaking.
      Reuben snarled.
      "I would've said anything to get you off my back! Now leave me alone – go back to your mommy."
      Sandy could only stand there and watch as he went back to his friends and their nudges and smirks. She'd come all this way and Reuben didn't want her? Now what was she going to do? Wiping her eyes on her coat sleeves, the girl turned to leave the campus grounds.

"Hey, wait up!"
      Sandy had just emerged onto the street when she heard the call. She glanced over her shoulder to see one of the young men Reuben had been with hurrying towards her.
      "I just wanted... to ask..." he was a little overweight and panting from the exertion, "… what you were going to do now?"
      Sandy shrugged.
      "Dunno, go home I guess." her lower lip trembled but she resisted the tears, "I don't know how, though, got no more money."
      A sly sort of look came over his round face; he edged a little closer to her and lowered his voice.
      "I could give you some money."
      "You could? Oh wow, thanks!"
      "I'd want something in return..."
      "What?" Sandy eyed the pudgy boy; he'd gone very pink in the cheeks. He sidled even closer.
      "Come back with me to my room and I'll tell you."
      Sandy had a feeling she knew where this was heading.
      "You want me to fuck you?" she said baldly, amused when he went crimson and made shushing noises at her, looking around furtively to see if any of the passers-by had noticed.
      "Okay," Sandy smirked, delighted in how she'd suddenly become the aggressor. "Now?"
      "Uh, sure," he blinked then straightened his shoulders. "Come with me."

It was as simple as that.
      Tom – he'd told her his name – had snuck her back onto the campus and into the small room he shared with someone who was thankfully absent. Once there he'd seemed to go shy and it had been up to Sandy to start the ball rolling.
      She wasn't naive, she knew what prostitution was, and that is was illegal – but, hey, she needed the money and she had something this guy was willing to pay for. And, all in all, it wasn't too bad. Not as wonderful as it'd been with Reuben, but not distasteful and afterwards, when he'd handed over the cash, Sandy had felt oddly grown-up.
      She strode away from the campus - and that asshole Reuben - with her head held high. She felt like she had control of her life for the first time ever and it was fucking fabulous. But what now? The money she'd got from Tom wasn't nearly enough to get her home but at least she'd be able to eat while she made up the rest. And how was she going to do that? Well, duh...
      She supposed she should've felt guilty or wrong about it, but the idea of selling her body didn't bother her in the least. Now, where was she going to find the buyers? In her illicit, half-obsessed hunt for sexual knowledge over the past few years Sandy had found out that every big city had a spot where the prostitutes hung out. She had no idea where it was in Chicago but it was just a matter of looking, right?

It took her a couple of days of wandering before she found the right area. It could've taken her a lot longer - Chicago was fucking enormous - but Sandy had used the intelligence her teachers despaired of her ever applying to her schoolwork. It made sense, didn't it, that the places she was looking for wouldn't be in the up-market, prosperous areas of the city? Following that logic, the teenager had managed to narrow her search time down considerably: if the streets she was walking down were nice, with rich people walking about like they owned the place, then it wasn't where she wanted to be.

The slums were worse than she'd imagined; her neat little town had nothing like the sprawling areas of decay she discovered here. There were lots of people too, of every race and age it seemed, but they were all sort of grey as if the harshness of their lives had leached the colour from them.
      Sandy felt nervous and edgy being here but she walked with confidence; shoulders back and chin up, just like her self-defence instructor had told her. If you look like a victim you make yourself a target, Miss Anders had said over and over again. Sandy was kinda glad now her parents had forced her into taking that class, she was at least able to project a savvy she didn't really feel.
      She found where the kids hung out, readily enough, and while she wasn't accepted into their ranks straight away, she wasn’t given any grief beyond a couple of boys trying to pin her down and stick their dicks in her.
      Sandy glowered down at the two jerkwads writhing on the ground in agony.
      "You fuckin' try that again and I'll rip them off next time."
      The encounter hadn't gone unnoticed and no-one else tried anything.

There were a lot of stray kids, most of them living like vermin in a few of the rotting tenement buildings. Sandy had gingerly entered one of the few structures that didn't look like it was in imminent danger of collapse and called out:
      "Hey, can I crash here? Who do I have to talk to?"
      A mop of matted, shit-coloured hair popped out from a room.
      "You don't gotta talk to no one. Just find an empty spot somewheres."
      "Thanks." Sandy smiled at the filthy - girl, she thought. "My name's Sandy, I just got in."
      "No shit." came the drawled reply. "I'd never'a guessed."
      Sandy laughed.
      "Catchya, maybe," she said and headed further into the building.
      It wasn't hard to find a quiet corner, there was a lot of space, and as it had been a long day and she was tired, Sandy curled up under her jacket, cushioning her head on her bag, and went to sleep.

She jerked awake sometime early the next morning with the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. She looked around to find the shit-haired girl squatting nearby.
      "I wasn't touching nothin' o'yours." she said defensively.
      "No, 's ok," Sandy sat up and scrubbed at her eyes, the scent of rotted wood and plaster strong in her nostrils. "Are you like the alarm clock?"
      "No." the girl was frowning as if Sandy had said something incomprehensible. "I jest thought you'd like to eat. I c'n show yous a place."
      "Sure," Sandy pushed herself to her feet and shouldered her pack. The filthy girl ambled out of the mouldy room; she was wearing a pair of ratty old jeans, a threadbare jumper that was way too big and her feet were clad in grubby sneakers that looked like they were held together in places by tape.
      "What's your name?" Sandy asked, hastening to catch up.
      The girl gave her a measuring look.
      "Judy." she said at last, "If we get there early 'nough we c'n get extra jam on the toast…"

Judy led Sandy through the sleepy, chill streets to a derelict open square where drab weeds pushed up out of the cracked concrete. There was a van there, one of those old-style food vans where the side lifted up to make an awning, and inside it a young man and an older woman were doling out food to the ragged crowd already assembled. The girls joined the queue, standing together quietly.
      "Not seen you before," the woman in the van smiled cheerfully at Sandy.
      "No, m'am." Sandy smiled back but didn't offer any more information. She took her paper plate with its three slices of buttered toast, and a plastic cup of lukewarm, milky sweet coffee and followed Judy to a patch of bare concrete.
      "Do-gooders." Judy said in between wolfed mouthfuls of food, nodding at the van. "But they don't ask questions - like some."
      The girls finished their breakfast and headed back the way they'd come.
      Judy wasn't a talkative creature by any means but she seemed content enough with Sandy's company. She took the new girl on a guided tour of her turf, pointing out places to avoid and those which were considered safe.
      "I need to make some money." Sandy said a couple of hours later. Judy gave her another one of her measuring looks.
      "Stealing or fucking?"
      "Fucking." Sandy replied after a moment and Judy nodded.
      "Come with me."

She took Sandy to a shadowed street near the edge of the slums, introduced her to another teenage girl - a busty little brunette with the wildly inappropriate name of Cherry - and walked away.
      "You done this before?" Cherry asked, the crotch of her blue panties just visible under her ultra-short denim skirt.
       "Once." Sandy admitted.
      "Okay, always take your bag with you - don’t leave your money in it." She reached between her legs and fished a small wad of folded notes out from her underwear. "This is a good place, ain't no one going to touch you there 'accidentally' like they do for picking your pocket!"
      Cherry was a seasoned prostitute and a lot more forthcoming than Judy. Sandy plied her with questions and Cherry happily passed on some of her hard-won knowledge.
      "Hey you wanna double with me 'til you know the score?" she offered.
      "Sure. Thanks." Sandy was secretly relieved; it was one thing to decide to prostitute herself, quite another to actually know how to go about it. It'd be good to have the more experienced girl as a kind of tutor until she found her feet.
      "Some of the guys might want to see us do each other," Cherry asked. "You okay with that?"
      "No problem." Sandy grinned - fucking another girl was something she'd wanted to try for ages.
      "Cool." Cherry's big brown eyes were twinkling. "Just relax, sugar, we're gonna have fun!"

Sandy had gone into this with the intention of getting enough money together to go home but as the time passed she found herself wanting less and less to return to her boring small-town life. She kept in touch with her parents - she didn't want them to worry unnecessarily - primarily through letters after one abortive phone-call where her father had demanded to know where she was so he could come and get her.
      At fourteen she wasn't the youngest kid working the streets, that dubious honour went to an eight year old girl called Tina. Sandy felt sorry for the little girl; Tina wasn't right in the head and she hated what she did, but she kept on doing it because Billy, her much older brother – at least he said he was her brother - made her. Tina adored Billy, like some pathetic, beaten little dog, even though he basically ignored her except when he wanted money. Sandy didn't think this was at all fair but was sharply advised by Judy to keep out of it. She couldn't leave it though and one day bailed Billy up in a corridor of the tenement. He was heading out to have some fun with the meagre amount of money Tina had brought in that day, leaving his little sister alone, huddled rocking in a corner to sob her distress.
      "You better start taking care of Tina." Sandy snarled at the older boy.
      "Why?" Billy sneered.
      "What are you going to do for money if she gets killed?"
      Going by the look on his face the idea had never occurred to him - Billy wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box. "You gonna sell your own ass or have you got another retarded little sister to pimp?"
       He'd gaped at her and she'd shoved him hard against the wall, then stalked away in disgust to see if she could do anything for Tina...

Prostitution wasn't that difficult. Sure there were some real creeps around but Sandy soon developed an instinct for spotting the dodgy ones and she mostly managed to avoid trouble. She was pretty laid back about the sex but some of the kids she knew had real problems. Some of them had run away from abusive home situations, rape and incest and all sorts of horrors; those ones tended not to like what they had to do to survive but didn't think they were worth anything better. And then there were the other kids who did enjoy fucking but were really twisted up inside because they'd been told it was wrong. Sandy couldn't help thinking they'd feel better about it if they could kick the guilt.
      Sandy didn't so much enjoy the sex with the clients as the buzz she got from making them come; there was a delicious kind of power in that. She'd also discovered very quickly that what a lot of the guys – and the occasional woman who cruised the 'kiddie store' - wanted was a virgin. It was ridiculously easy to fool those ones, all she had to do was make her eyes go really big and round, act a little scared and they were happy, getting a kick out of 'deflowering' her. Sad fucks...
      There was always a lot of casual fucking going on amongst the other kids. That could be fun and Sandy learnt more about herself and her responses – and how to truly give pleasure rather than simply let her body be used – from that than any amount of time spent with the paying adults.
      But she was only marking time here and she knew it. There was a niggling, indistinct urge to... do something with herself, but she had no idea what.

Sandy had been in Chicago for a few months when her life suddenly, smoothly headed off at a tangent.
She'd been huddled against a wall in the kiddie store, giving her best 'little girl lost' look when the expensive car with dark-tinted windows she'd seen cruise past earlier pulled up in front of her. The back door swung open, and staying in character, she'd crept towards it fearfully.
      "Are you lost?" The voice was deep and mellow, with an accent she'd heard before on a television program. German, she thought. Sandy looked down at the splintered kerb.
      "No, sir," she whispered.
      "Are you hungry?"
      She darted a glance at him and bit her lip.
      "Yes, sir."
      There was a pause then:
      "How old are you, child?"
      Sandy hesitated; this was the tricky bit, how old did he want her to be? If she gave the wrong answer the fish would slip off the hook. She tuned in to her gut feelings...
      "I've just turned twelve, sir." Not a real challenge to believe, she had no curves to speak of.
      "Come with me, little one," the voice was warm and friendly now, "I'll look after you..."

She slid into the back seat and pulled the door closed behind her.
      "What is your name, child?"
      "Sandy, sir," she hugged her backpack and peeped shyly at him through her bedraggled fringe.
      "Hello, Sandy, my name is Max." He looked to be as old as her dad, his hair was very pale, almost white, and his eyes were very blue. "Come, let's get you something to eat, yes?"
      Max, or 'Uncle Max' as he urged her to call him, took her to his hotel, one of the shining palaces of luxury she'd passed on her way to the slums, and up to his suite of rooms. He ordered for them both, including a big glass of milk for her, and some fruit, because 'nutrition was very important for growing children'. As they ate he told her about himself, explaining that he was a philanthropist with a passion for helping destitute children. Sandy played the innocent for him, hazel eyes wide with admiration and hope even though she knew it was all bullshit. If he was so interested in her welfare why didn't he ask about her family? Why didn't he offer to find them for her? No, he was going to want to fuck her, the question was when.
      After lunch 'Uncle Max' invited her to use his bathroom, in perfect privacy she was surprised to find, running a deep, warm bath for her and leaving her to it while he attended to some business in the other room. Sandy lingered, making the most of the hot water and toiletries. It had been a long, long time since she'd been able to bathe so thoroughly and it was good to be clean again.
      The water was beginning to cool and still he hadn't come in. Sandy sighed and climbed out of the bath – she may as well get this charade over with. She wrapped herself in a voluminous, fluffy white towel and peeked out of the bathroom.
      "Uncle Max?"
      The German was sprawled easily on a comfortable sofa; he looked up from the sheaf of papers he was perusing, and smiled.
      "Ah, you're finished, my dear. Do you feel better?"
      "Yes, Uncle Max," Sandy sidled out of the bathroom, "I don't know how to thank you..." Now there was an opening for him.
      "No thanks is necessary, liebschen," Max gazed fondly at her.
      "Um, my clothes are very dirty..." Sandy started.
      "Don't worry about them, I have bought you some more."
      "Oh, I couldn't! I mean – " she stammered convincingly, " – I mean, thank you very much."
      Max grinned.
      "You have manners, I approve." He indicated a pile of clothing on the chair beside him. "Come, choose something."
      Sandy smiled shyly and approached the clothing. Keeping as much of herself covered as possible she picked through the offerings. It was all very... childish in style. Lots of ribbons and flounces and pastel pinks - more suitable for a much younger girl than she was pretending to be. But it was also all of a size to fit her and very good quality...
      "What about this?" Sandy held up a floral-patterned pinafore dress. Uncle Max nodded.
      "You will look very pretty in that, my dear, and here – " he picked out a pink, long-sleeved t-shirt, "you can wear this underneath."
      "Thank you," Sandy beamed at him.
      "Oh, there is also some clean... underthings for you as well." She could hear the tiny tremor in his voice that was indicative of lust and she waited for the next, expected move. It didn't come; instead Max smiled in a fatherly fashion and told her to take the clothes to the bathroom and get dressed.
       Sandy wriggled into the girly clothes and sighed – how much longer was he going to string this out?
      "Beautiful, just beautiful." Max murmured approvingly when she came out of the bathroom to stand shyly in front of him. "Come and sit with me at the table, Sandy, I have something important to discuss with you."
      Here it comes – Sandy thought as she clambered into the chair he indicated.
      "When I saw you alone on that street I feared for your safety, " Max said solemnly. "I would protect you from the evils the world can offer, if you'll let me." He took her hands gently in his and gazed earnestly at her. "I would very much like for you stay with me, Sandy..."

Sandy had accepted his offer with all the gratitude of a scared child finally helped to feel safe. She settled into life with Uncle Max and indeed he treated her like a favoured niece for many weeks. She had her own room, and bathroom, and he took care of her, buying her clothes and gifts, taking her on outings, even providing a tutor for her so she could study while he was busy working. It was kind of weird, but she didn't feel threatened by him at all, always playing the role of the little girl, the innocent under his protection. She got a lot of mileage out of her period when it came, throwing herself at him and sobbing that she was bleeding and she didn't know why. Uncle Max was calm and tender, gently explaining to her what was happening and how she should deal with it, and all the time he had a raging hard-on Sandy feigned not to notice. She was certain that eventually he was going to fuck her but until that happened she was having a fine old time.
      Uncle Max was very wealthy and he travelled a lot on business. Sandy had been a little unsure at first when he'd said they were leaving Chicago – in some ways that would put her entirely at his mercy – but, again she didn't feel threatened so she'd gone along with it. They always stayed in the best hotels and she got to see more of America than she'd ever thought she would. Then one day Uncle Max told her he had to return to Europe. Sandy half expected him to leave her behind but he'd somehow organised a passport for her and four months after first getting into his car, Sandy left her home country.

Europe was fascinating, so different to everything else she'd ever known, so… vibrant, so old. They visited Berlin, and Paris, Venice and London and Sandy drank it all in, all the culture, all the history. She loved it there but she was also aware of the subtle change in Uncle Max's attitude to her now he was on his own turf. She'd look up from whatever it was she was doing to find him watching her, a distant expression on his face that transmuted into a fond, fatherly smile when she beamed at him. It wouldn't be long now, she knew, before he'd start wanting repayments on his investment in her.

Sandy paid the first instalment one wintry afternoon in Paris.
      They'd gone to the Louvre and Uncle Max had been short with her, frowning in disapproval at behaviour he normally found charming. They returned to the hotel in silence and once inside Uncle Max dismissed his aide.
      Sandy stood in front of her benefactor, outwardly timorous but secretly relieved. Good, fine, could they finally get this over with?
      "You disappointed me today, Sandy."
      "I-I'm sorry, Uncle Max, I didn't mean to." She gazed fearfully at him, noting the tenting of the material covering his crotch.
      "Very disappointed." He strode purposefully towards the dining table and sat down heavily in one of the straight-backed, armless chairs. Sandy groaned inwardly; did he want to spank her? She hated that sort of shit.
      "Come here." he brusquely ordered her, "Now!" he barked when she hesitated. Sandy crept towards him, fully aware of his aroused state, and let herself be laid over his knees. Uncle Max roughly pulled her pretty skirt up to her waist then jerked her panties down to her thighs.
      The first stinging slap made her gasp, the second brought tears to her eyes and from then on they all blended into a burning pain that had her whimpering and sobbing in genuine anguish.
      Uncle Max was silent throughout, save for his laboured breathing, but he spoke at last after an interminable amount of time.
      "You will be a good girl from now on, won't you, Sandy?" He'd stopped hitting her but his hand lay hot and heavy on one of her bruised buttocks.
      "Yes, sir, I will." she sniffled, knowing with a sinking feeling that no matter how exemplary her behaviour, the line had been crossed and he'd punish her again and again.
      "Good girl, good girl," his hand moved caressingly over her cheek and down between her thighs to tremblingly touch her labia. "I know you will be good," he whispered hoarsely and pushed a thick finger into her...

That set the pattern for her life. Uncle Max would treat her as he always had, kindly and affectionate, for a day or more, then Sandy's gut feelings would pick up the subtle change in his attitude and she'd know to expect a beating. He always fucked her afterwards - tenderly or hard depending on his mood – and while Sandy wasn't thrilled with the situation it was tolerable. It helped that Uncle Max tended to be very generous the next day, bringing home special treats for her, new clothes, dolls and jewellery, but the gifts didn't make it any better.

They were in London, and Sandy had been putting up with the crap for several weeks now. She glanced resignedly up into Uncle Max's stern face and steeled herself. All the signs pointed to the German needing to relieve his tension but something was different tonight and Sandy felt edgy.
      "I'm very disappointed with you – " Uncle Max began the ritual, " – remove your underwear and bend over the arm of the couch." Sandy hesitated – that wasn't part of the usual routine. Decidedly wary now, she tugged her underpants off and positioned herself over the wide leather-covered arm.
      "I will punish you now," Uncle Max whispered and something about his voice made her risk his displeasure and glance over her shoulder.
      Sandy's eyes widened. No fucking way! Max was holding a thin, flexible piece of bamboo. She'd been caned before and it'd hurt so fucking much she vowed never to let it happen again.
      "No!" she scrambled upright and backed away from him. "You're not doing that!"
      "You defy me!?" Max roared.
      "Yes, I fucking defy you, you pervert!" Sandy snarled. "The spankings are bad enough but if you so much as touch me with that thing I'll cut your balls off!"
      The German stared at her, dumbfounded, his face flushed red with anger and thwarted desire. For a horrible moment Sandy thought he was going to come at her anyway - she knew she wouldn't stand a chance against his greater weight and strength – but then his face lost all expression and he stalked away from her and out of the hotel room, dropping the cane on the floor as he went.

Sandy stood trembling in the middle of the room for long minutes, too shaken to move, dreading his return. Uncle Max didn't return though and in a little while Sandy crept off to her room.
      Still trembling, she sat on her bed and turned the cane over and over in her hands. Picking it up had probably been a futile gesture, if he was going to beat her no doubt he'd find something else to do it with if the cane wasn't handy.
      Sandy shivered; shit, she'd really done it now, but no way was she going to let him do just anything he wanted to her. With a low growl she broke the supple rod into pieces before flinging it into her bin.
      Her bedroom door didn't have a lock but she wedged a chair under the handle. It wouldn't stop him if he was determined to come in but at least it would give her some warning. Not bothering to get changed into her frilly nightie, Sandy crawled into bed and fell into a fitful doze.

She woke up at the usual time the next morning, surprised and relieved that she'd been left alone. She didn't know if Uncle Max had returned, but, he was such a stickler for routine the chances were that right now – she glanced at the bedside clock – he was sitting out there eating breakfast. Sandy felt sick at the thought of facing him but the sooner she did the sooner she'd know where she stood.
      She peeked out of her door, her heart clenching when she saw the German doing as she expected, sitting at the dining table having breakfast. As usual there was a place set for her opposite him so, keeping her eyes down and her posture as meek as she could, Sandy sat down to her breakfast.
      "Good morning, Sandy." Max was cool and distant, barely glancing at her as she settled herself in the chair.
      "Good morning, Uncle Max," Sandy whispered. He didn't say another word and Sandy wondered if she should apologise or something. Fuck that! If she apologised she was most likely setting herself up for him to try it again. She kept her silence.
      Eventually he finished his breakfast and pushed away from the table.
      "I will see you this evening." Something in his manner told the girl that their relationship had changed irretrievably. By speaking up, by behaving unlike the submissive little girl she'd made herself for him she'd altered the balance – whether for good or ill, though, she could only wait to find out.

Sandy prowled around the suite all day, restless and distracted, considering her options. She could leave - she should leave, her instincts were warning her – but where would she go? Anywhere rather than here! And do what? The same old shit over again? Prompted by a sense of urgency, she pawed through her clothes, shoving some of the least childish into her old back-pack. She opened her jewellery box but paused before taking any of the dainty pieces out. They were hers, weren't it? She'd earned them, it wasn't stealing... Biting her lip Sandy up-ended the contents of the small casket into her bag. She shouldered her bag but paused again, undecided, at the door of her room. She couldn't leave now, Uncle Max always left one of his body-guards outside the room when he wasn't with her, but tonight, when he was asleep... She'd have a greater chance of slipping away then. Sandy stuffed the back-pack into the bottom of the wardrobe underneath a blanket then waited, tense and nervous, for evening.

Uncle Max was very late returning - and he'd brought someone with him.
      Sandy kept her expression light and friendly as she was introduced to the waifish, big-eyed little girl standing close at his side. Shit, he was replacing her!
      "Hi!" Sandy chirped at the bedraggled little thing – probably younger than her, she certainly looked it. Her clothes and hair were filthy; had he picked this one up off the streets as well?
      "Hello," the girl murmured back with a tiny smile.
      "Sandy, if you could run a bath for our guest..." Uncle Max smiled fondly down at the new toy, who responded with a tremulous smile up at him.
      "Sure," Sandy grinned, her heart thudding unpleasantly – where was the new girl going to sleep? Where was she going to sleep?
      Once the bath was run, Sandy took the petite English girl by the hand in a show of girlish impulsiveness and led her through to the bathroom. Her big smile dropped, though, as soon as the door had closed behind them.
      "You know why he's brought you here, don't you?" she said in an undertone.
      "Yes." the girl whispered back, " but it's better than being on the streets."
      "Don't count on it," Sandy replied grimly. "He won't fuck you right away, but when he does it'll start with him spanking you. You ready for that?"
      The girl blanched.
      "I don't have much choice at the moment."
      "Uncle Max," Sandy sneered the name quietly, "will get bored with spanking and try to move on to worse things."
      The girl stared at her, her tiny hand flying to her mouth. They both jumped at the quiet knock on the door.
      "Is everything all right in there?" the German's voice sounded smooth and mellow from the other side.
      "Sure, Uncle Max," Sandy sang out, "Just showing Esther where everything is!"
      "I have to go," Sandy said almost soundlessly, rattling some toiletries around as a distraction, "he'll treat you real good in the meantime, but it doesn't last."
      Esther nodded, biting her lip and Sandy said aloud and cheerfully.
      "Okay, I'll leave you to it, call me if you need anything."

Uncle Max was waiting for her, expressionless, as she emerged from the bathroom.
      "Esther is to have your room, you will sleep on the couch tonight."
      "Yes, sir," Sandy said timidly.
      "I am very unhappy with you," Max hissed at her, "You are an ungrateful little bitch." Sandy wanted to spit at him, she really did, but she kept her head lowered. "Maybe having to share my... generosity with someone else will teach you a lesson."
      Sandy said nothing, maintaining her contrite pose. Uncle Max uttered a short exclamation of disgust and stalked away from her. He flung himself down on the couch and, ignoring her completely, took out his phone and began ordering clothes for his new ward.

It was late and soon enough Uncle Max smilingly sent the girls off to bed before retiring himself.
      "I'm skipping out tonight," Sandy murmured to Esther as they got into their night-clothes, "come with me."
      Esther frowned, considering.
      "If what you say is true, I've got a little while before it gets bad, right?"
      Sandy nodded, knowing what the girl was thinking.
      "I'll stay for the moment," Esther smirked, giving her companion the impression she wasn't any more of an innocent than Sandy was, "but thanks for the warning."

Sandy made herself a nest on the couch but she couldn't sleep. She stared into the dark and waited for everything to go quiet which it did around 2 a.m. Soundlessly, she crept into Esther's room to retrieve her bag and change into the set of old, tatty clothes she'd kept hidden from Uncle Max.
      "Good luck," Esther murmured from the bed.
      "You too," Sandy replied.

It was fraught getting out of the hotel room – Sandy didn't know if there would be a bodyguard outside tonight – but the corridor was empty and dim as she snuck off down to the stairwell. Yes, she knew the stairs would be monitored but if she was quick she could get out before – if – anyone alerted Uncle Max, or as was more likely given her ragged clothes, they mistook her for a thief. She went cold at the thought of the jewellery she was carrying in her bag - what if they thought she'd stolen that? She shook herself, no use looking for trouble, just get out and go!
      Sandy eased her way into the stairwell then flew down the stairs, her heart pounding. At the bottom she burst out of a door and found herself in the secured car-park of the hotel. She swore silently and sidled into the shadows. There was a guard here, but - she peered at the figure slumped in the booth – he seemed to be asleep. Feeling like she was going to wet herself with nerves, the girl crept along the wall to the exit. The guard was asleep and... she couldn't believe her luck, the small door next to the main gate was unlocked.
      Moving as quietly as she could, Sandy edged past the guard and towards the exit. She reached the door, pushed it open far enough to get through, then stepped out into the dank London night...

© 2003 September 14^th Lutra



Joules: [growl] Max's ass is MINE…



Darkside

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© 2003 WordWrights