Copyright © 2001,   bumboy.  ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit or on another website 
without the written permission of the author.  The author may be contacted 
by writing mrdouble@mrdouble.com, mrdouble@mindspring.com, or mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.

Original posting date: 
Monday PM, April 16, 2001

A wildPage story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: herassis.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com
 

Story_codes: M/f, anal, rape, n/c, caution

Story_intro:    I crouched under the the willow in the side yard where she lived, waiting for the last lights to go out, waiting for the quiet that I needed to get her into my hands. All the equipment I needed was with me- knife, tape, hockey bag, and my sedative face cloth. She liked to sleep in the nude.

Her Ass Is Mine

Written by bumboy


I crouched under the the willow in the side yard where she lived, waiting for the last lights to go out, waiting for the quiet that I needed to get her into my hands. All the equipment I needed was with me- knife, tape, hockey bag, and my sedative face cloth. She liked to sleep in the basement of their newer bi-level home, it was cooler at night, she could open the windows and catch a nice wind...but really it was me that was out to catch her. I had seen her around my old neighbourhood before her family moved, playing with the others, running and care-free, long hair flying as she scrambled in a kid's game of tag. I lusted for her with a hard-on that wouldn't go away.Her body was typical for a 9 year old- slim, just a hint of widening hips, smooth flat chest, and clear skin. But her real treasure was behind her, a rump so delightful and smoothly rounded that I knew I would have to possess her utterly. I had seen her in shorts, jeans and once in a delightful one piece bathing suit she must have borrowed, as it was clearly too small to be her own. They laughed and played under the sprinkler that day in June, and it was then I made up my mind to have her for my own. It had taken several weeks after her family moved to find her again, and  days of surveillance to be sure of my plans, and here I waited for her that night.At 1:00 AM, it had been quiet for over an hour. No dogs to announce my presence, no sister to share her bed, and mum and dad asleep upstairs.Perfect. 
I slit the screen, and hoisted myself over the sill. A four foot drop to the floor, no toys underfoot and clear sailing to the bedroom. In the door, up to the bed, and the halothane-soaked cloth was over her face in a moment. She never woke up. The tape was on her hands and ankles in a trice, with a strip for her eyes and mouth. I was careful not to restrict her breathing, as I had made that mistake once before and didn't care to repeat that disaster. She made no sound as I rolled her onto her tummy and shucked her pj bottoms to her knees. Ahh! the holy grail! The most delicious twin globes, softly rounded in the light from the street. I went straight to my target. There was no outward movement as I ran my spit-slick finger into her bum, not needing any other lube for the first careful fingering. I pressed more of my weight behind the invading digit, sliding to the third knuckle. God she was small.I curled my other fingers, and began a slow and careful examination of her rectum, twisting my hand to get as deep as I could, and rotating my wrist from side to side. I slipped my left hand under her hips, and pressed my fingertips deeply into her abdomen. I could just feel my right middle finger with my left hand, through the surrounding flesh, and she groaned softly as it wriggled in her 9 year old guts. How much more deeply she would feel it when she was awake, and my finger was replaced with my penis... No more time to tarry. I slipped my finger from her anus, took a quick and heady whiff, then bundled her into the hockey bag. Cross the floor, out the window, and the coast was still clear. Through the walkway between houses to the small park, the stolen car on the other side. Into the trunk with her, and a short drive to the parking garage where my own car was stashed. I moved the bag to the back seat, and checked her out. Breathing still fine. I gave her the sedative syringe I had prepared, and drove away. For the rest of the 3 hour trip, I had my right hand close to my nose, breathing in the essence of her bottom.
Morning found me in Vermont, my new little captive safely sleeping off the effects of the night. I reflected on how good it was going to be this time, as I wouldn't hold back on any fantasy. I turned in , and slept for 8 hours.
I awakened in the afternoon, and went to check on my new acquisition. She was awake and alert, and her red wrists betrayed her struggle to free herself. I stood over her, fingering my prick through my bathrobe, aroused by the terror in her eyes. Power over a helpless victim is the ultimate turn-on, and she was about to feel my power. I scooped her up and headed for the bathroom. Sex play with kiddies can be messy. I laid her on the floor, closed and locked the door, and bent to cut off the tape on her ankles. Dawning recognition was in her eyes, and her first words were "I know who you are and my dad will kill you". Ignoring this futile threat, I released her wrists, and told her to sit on the toilet. "NOW!!" She shuffled over and sat her now bare bottom on the seat. I forced her to lean forward, and slipped my hand down behind her, into her pale furrow, like a snake to its den and she screamed her shock as my finger found its mark. Up and in again, to find her little rectum softer and half full of shit. "Push it out now, push on my finger and make it come out" I breathed in her ear. She could only stare ahead, lost in the horror of having her bottom opened with the large, dry, finger of an adult male. "Push!" I screamed at her, and the sphincter gradually loosened under my hand. Then it was her turn to scream, loosing her bladder in the process, as I sent a second finger after the first. Oh! she was a tight one, and full well I could imagine her absolute shock when I opened her anus with my prick. She could only react as I bent her over farther, her cries muffled with the cramping of her suffocating position. Farther and farther my two fingers went into her, slicking themselves with a warm layer of her shit. She was barely sobbing now, instead trying desperately to draw breath into her constricted chest. Slowly I finished my exploration of her rectum, popping my fingers out to leave her anus gaping, as my hand was showered with a torrent of her stirred-up waste. My left hand went to her tummy, pushing and prodding and stroking as she released the last of her pent-up waste. A strong smell filled the air, foul to some but an addictive brew for me. Without further ceremony, I flushed the toilet, released her feetfrom her pyjama bottoms, and stood her up in the shower.  Soon, my little one! Turning on the taps, I rinsed my stained fingers and grabbed my hard cock. "Get on your hands and knees!" I ordered, backing up my command with a sharp strike to the back of her ribs. "Now!", and she moved to comply. I kneeled behind her, my robe forgotten on the floor, as I had eyes only for my target. I groped for the telephone shower, palmed the controls, and directed the harsh spray at her anus. Closer, now touching as I force a seal between the plastic nozzle and her clenched flesh, the hot water bubbling out until I pushed harder past the strength of her ring, and she squealed as the hot spray began its passage into her bowels. Five times I filled and emptied her colon, the ejaculated water now fresh and pure, and then I found my special funnel. One hand on her hips, I forced the small end into her rectum, careful not to tear the passage, until I could shuffle forward and give my own aching bladder blessed relief, pissing directly into her bottom. Finished, I hose off the residue, even as the remnants of piss dribble from her bum-hole. One more quick rinse of her insides, and it was time for the main course. 










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This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.