“Goddammit, you bitch,” Mr. Henning said. “Stop. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Not hurt me?
Amanda found herself trapped in a corner, heart slamming in her chest. She had started to hyperventilate and knew she couldn’t escape. All she could do was scream for help, a futile act for sure.
“Don’t come any closer,” Amanda warned.
Mr. Henning merely grinned. “You’re right. I don’t have to come to you. Not when you are willing to come to me, Mandy.” He lowered the zipper on his jeans and reached in. “Kiss the serpent, Mandy.”
Amanda’s eyes fluttered back in her head. One step forward and she dropped to her knees.
PART IV
Mandy
INITIATION
Rock tucked his cock into his jeans. In his alcohol-buzzed state, he still couldn’t believe what he had done. His view panned from beautiful blonde teenager, past Slim “Ink Man” Jim’s tattoo station, to the sick fucking little girl lounging on Gator’s station chair. A mixture of drool and semen coated her chin and had soaked through her light-colored blouse such that twin shadows alluded to prepubescent nipples. She sat licking a lollipop much like she had licked him.
The blonde spoke: “You’re fucking nasty and I love it.”
Listen to her calling him nasty. Yeah, right. After giving her ink, he had given her cock, right up the tailpipe like she asked. Then Vicky had begged to finish him off. It wasn’t that he was into little girls—he wasn’t. But the temptation of a trampy female begging for his cock … Whoa, hard to resist. She should have stayed in the waiting area, except she hadn’t, and Rock hadn’t really noticed until ready to nut. Damn.
“Call me sometime,” the blonde said. The mirror behind her offered her number in lipstick.
“I don’t think so,” Rock said. “I’m Kat’s old man, and you’re friends with her. She was cool with this payment arrangement, but …”
“But butt.” She slapped her ass. “I like the way you fuck, with long steady slow strokes.”
Rock played coy, his only move. “Tend to your neck like I said, the tattoo should be fine.”
“Thanks again, stud,” the blonde pressed against him.
“Yeah.”
Her lips pressed against his, tongue diving in. His cock started to stir, but before anything else could happen, the cowbell hanging from the front door clanged. It was Kat; Rock had lent her a key.
“Kat,” the blonde said, “look.”
Kat crossed the room to inspect the blonde’s neck as she lifted her hair. Rock had inked a tiny serpent swallowing its own tail.
“Kiss the serpent,” Kat said. “Subtle yet strong. I dig it.”
“I dig your boyfriend, baby. Don’t let that one get away.”
“I’m glad you approved. Fuck him behind my back, though, I’ll slit you from slit to pie hole.”
“Your toy isn’t half-bad, either.”
“I wouldn’t fool with her if she wasn’t.”
“Kitty,” Vicky said, “Uncle Rock let me play this time.”
“Yeah-yeah.” Kat focused on her friend. “If you hurry, you can still catch the bus.”
“Bitch, I thought you were giving me a ride.”
“Bitch, my boyfriend just gave you a ride—on his dick.”
They were just fucking with each other, part of their territorial game. Rock didn’t fully understand it but didn’t have to hang on the sideline.
“Let me call my buddy Tony. He drives a tow truck and goes all over the place. He may not take you directly home, but I’m sure he’ll get you there quicker than the fucking bus.”
“Is he hot?”
“Like I would know. He does okay with the ladies … so maybe.”
“Fine,” the blonde said.
Rock made the call to Tony’s cell phone.
“Tony said he’d swing by.”
“Okay, then,” Kat said. “Wait outside.”
“Later,” Rock said.
“Bye-bye, Mandy,” Vicky said around her lollipop.
“Bye, Vickster.”
Kat followed her to the door, turned the deadbolt behind her.
“So,” Kat said, “what did you think?”
“About?”
“About banging that blonde.”
“Shit, Kat, you know I’m into redheads.”
“Variety is the spice of life, though, or so I’ve heard. Speaking of spice. Did you enjoy young spice today?”
“I’m no perv, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“He’s a perv,” Vicky said.
Kat smirked. She also moved close, cupped Rock’s groin. “Don’t lie to me, baby, I’ll know if you do.”
“I’m not lying; I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about young girls fawning for your attention, pawing at your crotch. You wanna stick your throbbing cock in each and every one of them, don’t you?”
“Hell no. I mean, sure, today was fun. I’m not going to fuck around behind your back, if that’s what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about Vicky. No, not just Vicky, girls like Vicky. Tell me, did you fuck Vicky today?”
“Hell no, she’s a little girl.”
“I sucked his wiener,” Vicky said matter-of-factly.
“But you wanted to stick it in her, didn’t you?”
“I did no such thing.”
“I didn’t say you did. I’m saying you wanted to. Am I right?”
Rock looked from Kat to Vicky, back to Kat. “I was tempted when she asked me to fuck her, but I didn’t.”
“What if I told you I wanted you to?”
“To what, fuck Vicky?” Rock could barely fathom intercourse with someone so young.
“Not Vicky. Someone else.”
“Mandy?”
Kat shook her head. “You don’t understand. What if I wanted you to fuck little girls like Vicky?”
“Why the hell would you want me to do that?”
“What difference does it make?” Kat gazed appreciatively up at him while rubbing his crotch. “What if I wanted you to fuck nasty little girls who begged you for your cock while I watched?”
Rock knew Kat had a kinky side. He hadn’t known it went this far. The question seemed legit although not rooted in reality.
“Hypothetically speaking? Sure, I’d give it to Vicky, or some other girl begging for it, if you really wanted me to.” It seemed ludicrous not to. Especially with his wild, redheaded girlfriend egging him on.
“Yay!” Vicky said.
“Great. I need another hung stud this weekend.”
“Another? What are you—”
“Shh … It will be fun. We need six for the ceremony.”
Ceremony?
“I’m hungry,” Kat said. “Take me to dinner. Later, the three of us will have fun.”
“Yay! Can I go?”
“Fuck no,” Kat said. “Clean yourself up. If you’re quick, maybe we’ll bring you back a Happy Meal.”
“Really, Uncle Rock?”
“Yes. Now hurry.”
“Yay!”
Vicky skipped off to the restroom.
CEREMONY OF INITIAL RAPE
“… Lucifer has deemed this child a breeder. A sex slave to her Guardian Father. She is to be ritually conditioned to submit to sex, to revel in all its forms of pleasure and pain, and to accept the magical power her Father holds over her with sex. May she become enchanted by the power of his semen. May she always succumb to its magical properties, as truly that is how she will see it. And now, as her first official leap into servitude, she must submit to the Ceremony of Initial Rape. Everyone, disrobe Let this child become Lucifer’s whore today on her sixth birthday.”
“Hail Lucifer!” the men said, stroking themselves in anticipation.
“Pleasure is pain! Pain is pleasure! Rape her for Lucifer! Lucifer and His minions must have their turn with her. Let this budding whore learn her place at a young age.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Stacy, along with her crowd of wannabe bad-asses, stood smoking cigarettes beneath the oak tree just outside the cafeteria. Her baby bump was beginning to show under the black dress. They were laughing, joking, being completely obnoxious, as always.
The girl hated them, each and every one, although she didn’t really know why. She only knew that these girls thought they were better than her, that some of them currently carried babies, while the others would soon. Breeders, one and all. And she fucking hated them. Also, she was jonesing for a cigarette. She hadn’t had one since morning, and now that she’d eaten lunch, she craved a nicotine fix. Only one problem: She didn’t have any smokes. She did, however, have a bottle of milk. An honest to god glass bottle. The people who ran this place loved their organics, anything to avoid introducing hormones or toxins into their breeders’ food supply.
A final gulp of milk left the bottle empty. She wound up and chucked it straight at Stacy.
“Shit. Who the fuck—Amanda,” Stacy’s eyes narrowed, “what’s your fucking problem?”
“I want your cigarettes. Now.”
“Get bent. Amy hasn’t been hanging with us, bitch.”
“The name isn’t bitch. Isn’t Amanda, either. It’s Mandy. Now hand over your smokes.”
“Fuck you, Mandy.”
“No, Stacy, fuck you. With this.” Mandy brandished a switchblade knife, the very one Kat had confiscated from Stacy months ago. Mandy had asked to borrow it and Kat had said, What the fuck. With a click, Mandy ejected its blade.
The crowd disbursed.
“You’re crazy,” Stacy said. “Stay away from me.”
“You’re crazy if you don’t hand over the pack.”
“You’re not going to do anything. Buy your own smokes.”
Mandy, in a flash, slashed the blade in a wide arc. Its tip parted the fabric of the breeder dress and left a trail of weeping red in its wake.”
“Holy shit, did you see that? The bitch cut me.”
Mandy slashed backhanded without much effort, causing Stacy to back step, stumble, and fall. When two or three of her friends stepped forward to help her, Mandy forced them away with another sweep of the blade.
“You want some?” Mandy asked. “How about you, bitch, you wanna be next?”
Nobody wanted to be next, so Mandy turned her attention back to Stacy, who, in her impregnated and fearful state, didn’t dare attempt to stand. Mandy extended an open palm, and Stacy regretfully handed over her pack of Marlboro reds.
“Lighter, too, breeder.”
Stacy gave her a Bic.
“Next time, don’t make me ask twice.” Mandy planted a Doc Marten in Stacy’s swollen belly, causing her to double up in pain. She didn’t stop there; she stomped the teen’s shoulder and head before backing away with a smile. “Damn, I need a cigarette.”
Stacy’s friends helped her up and away as Mandy shook out a smoke and lit up. The cigarette tasted so good and she leaned against a tree and drew in glorious nicotine.
As Mandy puffed away, a brunette in a breeder dress approached her. She didn’t appear pregnant, but that didn’t mean much.
“Wow, Amanda. Wild. Fuckin’ insane.”
Mandy snarled at the breeder. “Who are you?”
“Who am I? Seriously? It’s me, Pammy.”
“Well, me-Pammy, how about you piss off? I don’t like breeders and I don’t like being called Amanda. I don’t know who the fuck you are, and I don’t really care. Unless you wanna put your tongue to good use up my skirt, I suggest you get lost before I perform a C-section on you.”
“What happened to you?” Pammy asked. “We used to be best friends.”
Mandy, tired of this game, flicked her cigarette butt at the confused bitch, pulled the switchblade knife and ejected its blade. “Does pregnancy cause hearing loss? For shit sake, get lost. I’m not going to tell you again.”
“Okay-okay, I’m leaving.”
Mandy left too, to look for Kat. She didn’t find her—probably skipping. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She didn’t really know. She also didn’t know how she knew she was supposed to work tomorrow tonight, at Sugar Plum Grill, yet she did. She also knew to expect a boy named Brad to stop by. He’d want to fuck her. Maybe she’d let him, maybe she wouldn’t. He had a nice cock; somehow she knew that, too. Not as nice as Kat’s tattooed boyfriend, but any man could easily be seduced. If one didn’t provide what she wanted, another would. Which made this all-girl school a major pain in the ass. Maybe she would skip school tomorrow, contact Kat. They might do something together, just the two of them. Better yet, with Rock, and perhaps even Vicky. The little girl made the ideal pet. It might be fun to have one of my own, Mandy mused.
* * *
The afternoon classes bored Mandy. She bolted after final period, stopping at her locker just long enough to toss books inside. She had an English paper due tomorrow, as well as an algebra test. Fuck ‘em. She didn’t care. She lit a cigarette before heading down the path to the Henning home. It would be a while before Mr. Henning came home, so Mandy planned to check her email for possible messages from Brad. Or Kat.
“Wait up,” a voice called. Amy jogged to catch up. “Got a cigarette?”
“Got a whole pack.”
“Can I have one?”
Mandy blew smoke in Amy’s face. “No.”
“Aw, come on. Just one?”
“Cigarettes are expensive. Where are yours?”
“At home, in my top dresser drawer.”
“Good to know.”
“You suck.”
“Better than you do.”
Amy looked confused while Mandy resumed walking.
As they followed the tree-lined path of the Monarch Prep campus on this unseasonably warm January afternoon, Amy proceeded to tell Mandy, in painstaking detail, about the falling out between Tara and herself.
“… I told her Daddy’s cock was bigger but she said her daddy could fuck better, then I told her …”
“I don’t give a good goddamn,” Mandy said, moving a glowing cigarette tip toward the little girl’s arm.
“Hey,” Amy said, stepping out of harm’s way, “watch what you’re doing.”
“I am.”
Amy glared at Mandy. They walked the rest of the way home without conversation, although occasionally, Amy felt compelled to spout useless details about her day: “I got a B on my math paper.” “Tara’s birthday party is next month.” “I hate school.”
“That’s nice.”
They arrived home and went upstairs. Instead of going to her room to change clothes, Mandy followed Amy into her room.
“What are you doing?” Amy said.
“Nothing.”
Amy removed her pack of cigarettes and put a smoke between her lips. Before she could light it, Mandy flicked her Bic. Amy put tip to flame and inhaled.
“Thanks.”
“Thank you.” Mandy snatched the pack of Kools out of Amy’s hand.
“Hey, give it back.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll tell Mom.”
“So?”
“So I’ll tell Dad.”
“They won’t do anything, and you know it. They aren’t too thrilled with you smoking in the house.”
“Still, those are mine.”
“Not any more. Besides, it’s not like you paid for them—you stole them from someone, and you can do it again.”
“Shut up, go do your chores.”
“Yeah, about the chores …” Mandy trailed off as she left the room. She went to her room, removed her winter coat, changed into jeans and a sweater, crossed into the bathroom to primp before the mirror. Before long, Mrs. Henning came looking for her.
“Mandy,” Mrs. Henning said, “there is a lot of work to be done before dinner, young lady, and you have yet to begin. What do have to say about that?”
“Well, Mrs. Henning … by the way, nice outfit. It really brings out the blue in your eyes.”
“Why, thank you, Mandy.”
“You’re very welcome, and …” Mandy flashed a seductive smile, “very beautiful. I’ve been thinking, and …”
“And?”
“And, well, it’s really none of my business … I’ve made a few observations …”
“Observations?”
“Unfortunately, I have. For example, Amy doesn’t do much around the house. Not anymore.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, ma’am. Frankly, I don’t know how you do it. After all, that little girl screws your husband more than you do.”
Mrs. Henning looked flustered. “Mr. Henning and I have an open relationship.”
“Yes, ma’am, you do. But still, I can tell that Amy—how can I put this?—receives the lion’s share of Mr. Henning’s affections. She receives your share of his affections. Surely that isn’t fair.” Mandy ran delicate fingertips along Mrs. Henning’s shoulder as she moved closer to the woman.
“What would you propose?”
Mandy, combing back her foster mother’s hair, whispered seductively into her ear: “Let me shower you with attention and help draw more of Mr. H’s attention to you. I can help the two of you spice things up.”
Mrs. Henning’s body reacted to the ticklish breath. A hand landed on Mandy’s ass and squeezed. “I like the sound of that,” Mrs. Henning said.
“There’s only one problem.”
“Yes?”
“The chores need to be done.”
“No,” Mrs. Henning said, “that won’t be a problem.”
Mrs. Henning then called Amy out of her room and reassigned Mandy’s work to her.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Mandy pushed through the front door to Sugar Plum Grill. Standing behind the counter serving ice cream stood a prissy-looking bitch glaring at her and a fat fuck who seemed mighty perturbed.
Not many things frightened Mandy but the holes in her memory proved especially troubling. She knew the big guy was Mr. Plum, her boss; she knew she worked here and what her schedule was. She also knew she needed to wear an apron but didn’t have the foggiest idea where to find one.
“Where are the fuh—flipping aprons?”
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