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The best kept secret in the city: the Venus Flytrap didn't card that hard. In fact it operated as a part of a network, dozens of bars in the region that made it known through certain clandestine channels that underage girls could come in and get drinks. The trick was to bring them to a second location, off-site, and take care of them—set them up and meet all of their needs. Numerous men could attest to some facts about the young party girls of the nearby middle school, talking cardinal numbers like sixth and seventh, talking ordinals like eleven and twelve. Throw a few beers in them and they're good for hours of fun. High hormones might make for some unexpected strain on a man's muscles, like drunk tweens could lose what little inhibition they had and really go wild on some grown-up dick, the kind that they secretly or stridently wanted so bad.
At the far end of the thirst traps, beyond the velvet curtain of cam-shows, under the incestuous ache for daddies and uncles and brothers, here were the graduates of the fucking class. Word spread among the hot girls, the popular girls, the blowjob queens just out of the elementary school. Don't kill the narrator for telling it straight: girls regularly showed up and got escorted to the real party, the VIP treatment, extended teasing that came from a party mentality. The jailbait, fuckbait stars of each class rolled through, year after year, and if rumours ever reached the level of 'reports' it all got squashed, given some of the clientele who'd come through. Name a male authority figure and chances were good that he'd gotten his dick wet in the Venus Flytrap or a place like it.
Maybe they'd aligned with Underage Anonymous at some point, pooled their resources, laid down a pipeline of young pussy? Who can say. We deal here in the hardcore chronicles of those best of the best, certain tiger cubs and other fierce kittens who'd grown into little predators all their own, treating men like their playthings only to get rolled and put gloriously in their place.
That path to brat correction, or slut submission, was exactly what they came for. It enticed them through the gate of alcohol or higher, harder, stimulant stuff. Brave girls, the dick-chasing lovedolls and cum-junkies unleashed once all excuses were erased, after those former obstacles were flattened out—they showed their true colours, along with their bodies. Tight and soft and smooth, pure candy for pedophiles, that's what the 'Trap made available by sheer virtue of being the libertine place, the free love zone, where “Ladies Night” was understood to mean girls under fourteen. Little, young, underage, the willing schoolgirls, training bras or nothing at all, thongs they weren't supposed to wear, and half the time cases where Mommy was in on it, loved the attention her baby girl was getting, the fun she was having with vetted men, guys who knew each other and their proclivities.
Circles kept forming all the time: kid-lovers linked with kids. Those who sought to keep them apart only reinforced the attraction, made it more explosive to break through. If religious freedom was so important, then why not worship Bacchus, or a little Aphrodite, most likely a preteen like Lindsay, like Abbi, like Xerena—who had shown up that Thursday evening on her own.
She was feeling reckless. She had something to prove. Idiotic boys could say some real mean shit, and that alone could drive her into the arms of a knowledgeable man. She knew all about women who later reminisced, who later relived their reckless tween-age years, and she knew all about the real men, the honest men, who got down to fuck young pussy just as often as they could: waiting for their opportunity, or taking fate by the horns. At times, at the height of her adolescent cycle, all she wanted to be was that ragdoll, happy in her vulnerability, empowered through the illusion of victimhood. Getting drunk on Modelos and having taken an edible too, she felt the most vicious rolling heat coming on, and the first man to buy her another looked like her friend Nina's uncle—which meant he was hot enough to fuck.
Conversely, Xerena gave that same energy. Pale, cute, modern mini goth, younger and hotter than the latest Wednesday Addams, she had come to the bar tonight instead of the library. She wore the black-and-white usual only without panties at all, the skirt slashed on both sides to expose her thighs, and the tight fit of her Hot Topic top revealing in obvious silhouette the condition of her nipples. This was dark Princess X, the horny graveyard girl, a little femme fatale only in middle school, adorably loose now about sitting in a man's lap and spreading her legs, ready to go. What even was his name?
Best not to say, and in truth she didn't remember. Something with an R. Another R started one of her favourite four-letter words, and its associated fantasies, the taboo she loved to dance around like macabre. Her slurred words to him, “I'm gonna say stop, but you don't stop, okay? Go hard, like it's real,” stressed the gray area, that vast place that he could travel with her. Didn't every apocalyptic movie now feature some grizzled old man escorting some very special young girl, well. She wanted to be that, and let him fill in that subtext with her.
“Are you sure? I'm not gonna hold back.”
“Yeah, I'm sure! I want it. Fucking destroy me, okay?”
“Tell me how badly you want it.”
“Fuck that. How about I show you?”
He looked about forty, seated in a chair, and here this petite, twelve-year-old succubus was raising her skirt, putting her inflamed little pussy in his face. She got his dick springing up in response, and the need was obvious, further stoked by her advancing intoxication. The edible must have just been hitting, or the dizzying effects of the alcohol transmuting into just the most honey-dripping need. It looked like she'd been playing with herself all day and only now found the culmination, through a bar that—on the sly—served girls in wedge heels and braces, even those who brought their backpacks with them, straight from school. He placed his hand on her pale, swollen mons, ran his thumb in teasing circuits of her hot, insatiable display, that cunny so tasty they'd made it off-limits, and therefore even sweeter to eat.
“Nah. You're already showing. I wanna hear you say it.”
“Are you recording or something?”
“No. Should I be?”
“I don't fucking care. I need it so bad, Daddy. C'mon. Hurt me with it, I like it. Fuck my twelve-year-old pussy, fuck my ass, fill it. I'm just a kid, and you're just a pedo, aren't you? Why else would you be here. What are you waiting for? Victimise me. Please, please, please. Fuck the beggar right out of me. I'm your little ra—”
He didn't let her finish. He took possession of her long black ponytail, gripping it, then stood and guided his cock directly to her mouth. The force of it pumping her throat made Xerena gag, but she settled down quickly enough. The rigid, throbbing presence of it gratified her in this inexplicable way, and the way he stayed with her through the drooling protest gave her a deep, unspeakable thrill. She almost immediately began toying with her clit again, the tears in her eyes making her look vaguely feverish, and this was the unorthodox medicine—hard to swallow.
“What's that? Couldn't hear you. Tell me again. You like having a pedo fuck like me use your mouth?”
“Hullgh-huh!”
She was his fun-sized blowjob dispenser now, and the confinement to that oral task excited her. So did the power dynamic, this control that felt corrupt to the point of a paradoxical sweetness—like being overcome, being dominated, yielded a wave of tween euphoria. Xerena glared upward like she hated it but all the while she kept her tongue moving, kept a hand down to spread her folds open and swirl delicate fingers over her clit. The other hand she brought in to cup his balls, weighing them and tugging. Some exquisite talent came through in her sliding liplock, in the flutter of her tongue over his crown, like she'd studied hard and now got to practice all she'd learned. Applied witchcraft: she tilted her head side to side, corkscrewing the glide of her lips around his dick, then moved her hand up to repeat the motion, a twisting suck 'n' stroke.
“No hands. I wanna get in your throat. Eat that dick, c'mon. You asked for it. Yeah, there you go!”
Xerena willed herself to go deeper, swallowing an obscene amount of his heavy, uncut cock. Drunk as she was already, fiercely horny, she suppressed her own gag reflex and pushed that monster down again and again, a thick sort of cocksucking drool forming strings that ran down to her top. The added pressure in her sinuses caused her eyes to water as she got after it, the tears of a slut, a goth girl of twelve put to work in sucking a relative stranger's dick, effectively locked into deepthroat service.
“On my balls now. Suck them. That's it. Been waiting for this, huh?”
So as not to make a total mess of her top, Xerena peeled it off, revealing the minimalist hills, tiny preteen tits, barely budding. Then she reattached herself, leaning forward and swiping her tongue over his nuts while he weighed his cock on her face. Automatically she started stroking it again, giving full-service fellatio to the point of making him groan and pull away.
“On your back. Take the skirt off. I'm gonna fuck the shit outta you.”
She got down to her sneakers and black choker, inverted pentagram dangling. The arousal written on her pale body was unmistakable, from the piqued nipples to the glistening pink readiness of her sixth-grade pussy, to the evil-looking smile that was almost a sneer. She spoke in contradiction to her body language, even as she spread her legs, falling to her back on the room's table, at the perfect height for him to destroy.
“No. You need to stop right now. You're so fucked up, I can't believe it. What a pedo. Please, I'm only twelve.”
“Aw, yeah? Think I'm gonna stop now? You might be a kid, but you can't kid me.”
He laid that invader across her overheated sex and rubbed the invitation of it, long slides across her juvenile clit, then teased her with false-penetration, almost shoving in—but not quite. She bit her bottom lip and writhed on the table, gripping the edge of it and subtly grinding forward, relaxing herself for what she knew was coming. Through the haze, his mean side came to her like stiff deliverance, like a show of strength, and reinforcement of the idea that he remembered what she'd said—when she said stop, to keep on going. “Stop” wasn't the safeword. Had she even specified one?
“It's too big. Please, stop! I can't take it.” Said without conviction, with a quiver of excitement behind her bad play-acting, this unblinking willingness to watch every moment as it happened.
“Nah. Little pedobaiting slut. Let's find out just how much you can take.”
On the last word he finally rammed it in, watching her expression change. Consensual non-consent, as the gateway to sex to which she supposedly couldn't consent anyway, made her grit her teeth—then roll her eyes. A little shriek didn't pierce the wall of music coming from below. The rumours hadn't lied, and the end result of serving this particular minor was to have her deeply wet, a narrow underage cunny that he was resizing, blasting open with his cock. His body marked the rhythm, clapping it out on her parted thighs, on the perfect cushion of her ass, hanging off the edge of the table.
“Ugh! Pervert!”
“Say it again.”
“Pedo!”
“S'right. Only twelve? I'd've fucked you while you were still in grade school. Bet you wish I did.”
“Oh my GOD! You fucking rapist!”
“Sure. This what you need to cum? This how you like it, you little whore?”
She passed from coherence right then, making a face that looked like strained ecstasy: cheeks flushed red, eyelids twitching, mouth open as she panted and squealed. He kept hitting it so deep and so hard and at that unrelenting natural rhythm while she had nowhere to go, compressed between him slamming forward and the implacable wall behind her. It made her reach her hands over her head and push against the wall, spring-like, returning the motion subtly in body language that begged for more.
“Hot little cunt on you. Let's see it. Before I wreck your little ass. Go ahead, freak. Fucking cum on this pedo cock right now.”
He'd been here before, and he could tell by the arch in her back, by the pulsing presentation of her clit, her moans taking on a vibrato, that she was near to a first peak. Throwing in extra force and using all those familiar trigger words, the ones that echoed in her brain day and night when she fell into her own 'sick' fantasies, it brought Xerena off seismically hard. She was shaking, in other words, tremors through her legs and hips as the orgasm struck. This was melting-point domination, a man who embodied all her home-invasion dreams, all her wet violation fantasies, made to coalesce right now in her blissed-out altered state.
“HNNNH!! Ugh—yeah, Daddy!! FUCK!!”
Telltale cream, the precious release of a preteen girl, there it went all over his rampaging cock. The convulsions, those needy little spasms came with it, the exact response he'd demanded and produced—and, given his masculine capacity to edge, the first of many. Except, upon withdrawing, he flipped her over and went straight for her ass. That had been the real appeal from the beginning, along with her youth and broken-home aesthetic, this reckless urge to party with older men, knowing full well where it might lead. She'd voiced her enthusiastic consent from the start, and then gleefully reversed on it at least in speech, having warned him to plow right through. So with only a little spit on her tight, twelve-year-old hole, combined with the nectar all over his cock, her chosen criminal started sliding in.
“Get ready to take it like a real little slut. Right in your fucking ass.”
His hand around her throat from behind converted her response into a bratty squawk.
“Fuck you!”
She had to adjust fast once her petite anal ring got expanded and he shoved through into her guts. He found just the right angle for pounding her out, a steady, rolling shove, throwing his weight into her from above and behind. There was that hot grip, seriously tight adolescent ass, given up for him to drill. For her part, Xerena could do little more than hold the edge of the table as he railed her like that, this delicious feeling of degradation coming over her as he went from choking her to pulling her hair, enforcing the arch of her back. Warmed by internal friction, losing her mind in the midst of the violation, Xerena rose from breathless cries to high-pitched sighs that soon transformed into these frenzied, sixth-grader moans.
“That was fast. You fucking love it, don't you. Underage bitch. Kiddy whore. Gonna fuckin' gape your little ass.”
“Ugh! Try it, you sick freak! Nasty pedo fuck!”
“S'what you like. Having Daddy here to wreck your ass. Look, you're leaking.”
He took some of the honeyed runoff from her pussy and smeared it on her face, stuck his incriminating fingers in her mouth to make her taste it. Xerena trembled and whined but the truth was there in the flavour—she was getting soaked. Between one orgasm and the next, her whole presentation kept reading as corrected brat, secretly grateful slut, a twelve-year-old having all agency taken away from her and victimised to the point of cumming herself cross-eyed. This was nothing that any boy her age could deliver to her. She took all her power and surrendered it for the sake of being overpowered, made to confront the sexual delirium that never failed to throw her over the edge.
Something in the taboo controlled her, through the excess of stimulation, the way he commanded her body and kept ramming painfully deep in her ass. His time spent savouring the sodomy further cemented her broken status, made her recognise that she was in fact moaning through her whimpers, humming out ecstatic little cries. Her clit still throbbed incessantly and her full-face blush in the mirror spoke to how much this abuse aroused her, just like she'd known it would.
“We're not stopping yet. I wanna see you ride this shit. Fuck yourself on this dick, and let's show everyone what a filthy little bitch you are.”
“No.”
“What's that?”
“No!”
He slapped her face, and it felt like love. A shock of joy. Weird, yes—but the burn of humiliation and the fast, fatherly discipline got her even hotter. She gasped softly at the strength of it, then tried to hold her ground, all in the interest of making him raise his hand to her again. He followed it up with a hard smack across her peachy, juvenile ass.
“You already lost this fight, cunt. Ride it or I'm bringing you home as my personal fuckmeat.”
“I won't do it! I'm—I'm not gonna cooperate! You're disgusting, you're a pedophile, a pig!!”
“Is that right? Fine, let's see.”
He proceeded to wrap her up in a full-nelson and brought her over to the bed, still impaled on his cock. Over and over, he railed her from underneath, absolutely ravishing her ass, each thrust sending euphoric shockwaves through her body, amplified by the pain of it. She turned a corner mentally then, positioned as an object and discovering that she was enjoying it. A thrill ride: you must be this young to get on. After a hot minute or two, he let go of her and, as predicted, she didn't climb off. The persistence of motion made her a little dizzy, until she started humping it herself, bouncing and impaling and squeezing on his fat pillar. When she slid off accidentally, revealing the momentary gape to her anal strawberry, he already had his phone out to record.
“Right there. Wait, hold it open. Use your hands—yeah, like that. Nasty bitch.”
“I hate you.”
“Really now. Climb back on Daddy's dick. You don't hate that, do you?”
She did it, only this time she was facing him, her legs bent and spread, exposing the red, sopping-wet condition of her junior-high pussy. Holding her balance with both hands, leaning back, Xerena oscillated up and down, a steady vertical cycle that had her working up a sweat. She saw that he was recording, realising that her face would be in the shot, but she no longer cared. Everyone at school, every man she met, already seemed to assume that she was that slut, and it excited her to relish her own soiled reputation. This wasn't for blackmail anyway—he'd probably share the footage with other known pedophiles, and the distant sense that they'd all get off to her willing violation provoked only more twisted bliss.
Let them. I wanna be a little child porn star. Let all the pedos know my name.
Being able to control the pace while squeezing down and relaxing, through the sweat and shaking of her legs, the accelerated breath, these starburst explosions of raw physical joy kept coming over her. She reached one hand down and slapped her own cunny, then rubbed furiously over her clit. He smacked her hand away, laughing.
“Not like that, kid. Too easy. I'm gonna make you cum like a slut, just from wrecking your asshole.”
Maybe it helped that she'd gotten herself to the edge again, a little game of orgasmic brinksmanship. Xerena got close, then he changed the rules, the position, putting her on her back again only this time rolling her onto her shoulders and driving down from above. The way he so firmly gripped her ankles to raise them, or shoved in with so little resistance, even the rude squelch of his monstrous cock plowing in, all began to coalesce into a transcendent, sub-space moment. Her breathless climax came on like a roaring fire, finding the kindling inside her and then sweeping through. He gaped and re-gaped, entered and re-entered, only driving home hard and fast and steady once it became clear she was in fact about to cum. A new light entered her expression, this look of hedonistic insanity with her tongue out and her brows knitted together and sweat dripping from her face. He'd put his foot on her face right at the precipice, and as she turned it against the mattress Xerena felt herself tipping over into the most powerful orgasm of her young life—a twelve-year itch. Gritting her teeth and then screaming hoarsely, the young girl squirted in serene, climactic relief, visibly splattering her own arms and chest and face with grool, a fluid rush.
“Fuck, fuck—unnghh!! YES!!”
All the messed-up gratitude came through in her squeaky, overpowered moans, the tremors in her inverted body, the way she clutched the sheets and curled her toes. He could feel every vise-like squeeze, this deep analgasm that made her pink ring clamp down, milking him for his release in turn. Once the trigger was pulled, he hauled his dick out and shot the rest in her face, a final chef's kiss of degradation, painting her pretty face with ribbons of cum. He grunted like paternal approval, a perverted dad with this volunteer freak for a daughter, getting off hard after holding back for so long. She'd earned the shower.
“Nngh! Uh huh. Fuck yeah, there you go, baby girl. Wear that. Smile for me,” he commanded, and she complied while he took a series of pictures.
“Such a good little whore. Same time next week?”
“Mm. Yes, please.”