Jenny's Couch, Book 5 Chapter 5

Lilah was going to have one of her bad days. I woke up to the sound of her urine stream hissing and rattling into the urinal jug we kept in her dog crate. Since she was locked in from bedtime until I woke in the morning, it prevented accidents. Unfortunately it also led to this on her bad days. Before I could organize myself to do more than look at the time - 5:30 am - Lilah had finished urinating into the plastic jug. She had finished filling it, and was now emptying it. She put the funnel against her bottom lip and tilted it up, gulping down the fresh warm urine as quickly as she could. The problem was her tusks. There were 2 chrome tusks hammered into her lower jaw and two more in the upper, right about where her cuspids or first bicuspids had been pulled along with the rest of her front teeth. The tusks made her look like one of Edward Rice Burroughs' Martian Tharks, except that she didn't have four arms and in place of green skin she just had tattoos and piercings everywhere. They prevented her lips from closing properly, they turned her speech into a mushy mess of lisps and liquid sibilants, and they got in the way of any glass or cup - or urinal jug - she tried to drink from. So though a good portion of the piss went down her throat, another good portion spilled down her chin and ran down her bare torso and over her crotch to stain the dog bed she slept on. We were going to start the day cleaning up.

The piss drinking was a regression. She had done that when she was a prisoner in the bar, from a delusion that the "monsters" - the patrons who paid to rape her - could find her more easily by following the smell of her urine. I suspected she had also simply been dehydrated since no one seemed to take particular notice that she had enough water to drink. Doing it now was a sign that her mind was traveling back to the times of her captivity, to the terrible things that had been done to her, and her hallucinations today were likely to reflect that.

I yawned, stretched, stood, shrugged out of my PJs, got my keyring and unlocked the padlock on Lilah's crate. I got down on my knees, opened the door, and reached in to take her by the arm. She didn't resist as I pulled her out and up to stand beside me. Urine dripped down her front, staining the fancy barber-pole ribbon lacing her vulva together. Darn, that had been one of her favorites too. I tugged on it to undo the bow know and then gently unthreaded it from the six chrome grommets that pierced the 9-year-old's labia. I dropped it onto the floor in the puddle of urine gathering around Lilah's feet. She stood passively throughout. She was still rail-thin, still undeveloped with a completely flat chest, dime-size nipples, prominent ribs and bulging hairless mound, but after a couple weeks of real food she was looking somewhat less starved. Her head, now covered with a fine fuzz, came up to my belly.

Lilah didn't resist as I clipped the small chain lead to her septum ring. I had replaced her original with a large, heavy brass number to make that easier. The bottom rested on her lips and was another impediment to drinking if she didn't remember to flip it up out of the way. I tugged the chain gently and she followed me into the bathroom where I wrapped the chain around the towel rack so she wouldn't wander while I got the shower running. Her eerie eyes looked at nothing, though it was hard to tell. The sclerae had been tattooed a dark blue to match her irises. It was called a tattoo because it was a similar process, I guess: sticking needles into the eyeball and injecting a permanent dye. In dim light you couldn't differentiate between the dye, her irises, and the black of her permanently dilated pupils so all you saw were solid blue orbs.

Once the water had warmed up I unwrapped the chain lead and tugged gently. Lilah's passivity ended the instant I pulled her into the shower stall and the warm water hit her body. She screamed. Or tried to. Her voice was damaged by years of screaming and crying, and thousands of repeated insults to her throat. Her voice had originally been sweet and a little low-pitched for a child's. Now it sounded like a whiskey-drinking, cigarette-smoking grandma. It was raspy with a lower register and a high-pitched shriek and nothing in between. "I'm on fire! Burning! Fire! Huuuuurts!" She began slapping at her body with open palms as if she were trying to beat out flames.

I had a lot of sympathy for the poor child. My older niece-with-an-asterisk, Karen, had introduced the child to innocent sex play when she was twelve and Lilah only seven. And I couldn't blame Karen for that. The reasons didn't matter now why first I and then the late Moira had subjected Karen to an escalating campaign of sexual and mental abuse that had ended with her becoming a child prostitute, convinced it was her fate ordained by God. But with an out-of-control libido and a perverted belief that sexual activity was normal for children, the outcome of her being Lilah's babysitter and spending hours of unsupervised time with her every week was completely predictable.

And then I got involved, for the same reason I did when I had first stared into Karen's shocked face from my position astride her little sister Renee, my cock wilting and my semen glazing the younger girl's face: to shut her up. To make her complicit, give her her own secrets to keep, so she wouldn't tell.

With very little persuasion needed Karen and I convinced Lilah that being a whore like her idolized babysitter was a good thing and, especially at age seven, would make her a special little girl. But then, just as had happened with Karen, Lilah met Moira and things quickly spiraled out of control. That young woman had just been a wrecking ball through the lives of the two children. It was Moira who had escalated Lilah's sexual abuse until it was so severe there was no way we could trust her to keep quiet. It was Moira who had resorted to drugging the little girl to ensure her silence, starting with a mere half-hit of Ecstasy and ending with an overdose of LSD so massive that it had permanently damaged the child's mind. And then to cover that up when Lilah's father died - died with his dick stuck inside his daughter - it was Moira who had engineered making the child chattel to an outlaw biker gang. And it was a gang that turned out to have a flair for torture and body modification, who had kept the child prisoner for over a year, making her perform and sell her body nightly. She'd become their number one income stream, even better than meth and fentanyl.

Now she had come back to us. Still in the throes of drug-induced psychosis but now festooned with dozens of piercings and her body horrifically tattooed, it was even more direly important that no one ever see the orphaned child again, lest the whole thing unravel. Moira was beyond caring but I was not about to go to prison for what was after all her fault. Mostly. Partly.

So here I was, naked in the shower was a nine-year-old girl, holding her under a quite mild and pleasant warm spray from dual rainfall showerheads as she hysterically cried and screamed about being on fire and hallucinated her skin blistering, blackening, sloughing off and her bones themselves charring to carbon powder. I did the only thing I could: I shoved my cock in her mouth. I pulled the chain over the top of her head to get the septum ring up out of the way then wrapped the chain around her neck to keep it there. I grabbed her by her ears and forced her head down while at the same time I dug my little fingers into the hinges of her jaw until the pain made her reflexively open wide, and then my penis slid over her bare gums and filled her mouth. The wet warmth had me surge instantly to full hardness and her screams cut off with a "Guk!" as my glans hit the back of her palate. I yanked on her ears harder. My penis started to bend under pressure until Lilah swallowed convulsively and my cockhead slid into her throat. I groaned and turned my face up into the spray as Lilah's rippling throat muscles massaged me. Each swallow pulled her a little closer until finally her nose was crushed in my pubes. I was blocking her airway and her skinny chest heaved as she tried futilely to draw breath. She didn't fight to get away, though. The last year of her life had taught her it was futile and - though it was not true here - only led to worse pain. Her face turned red, then purple, her solid blue eyeballs beginning to bulge. Choked noises of strangulation came from her throat, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through me as her throat pulsed around my cock and her tongue lashed against the shaft. I yanked back on her ears, clearing her throat but only long enough for her to start to gasp before I forced her to swallow me again to the root. Tears ran from her eyes as I started fucking her face in earnest. The noise of my cock plunging again and again into her throat sounded like someone working their mouth full of spit. The dozen-plus rings and studs lining the rims of her ears dug into my palms. The heavy brass ring through her septum bounced up and down on my shaft each time it emerged from between the chrome tusks framing her mouth.

I felt the familar pressure rising behind my testicles and abandoned all thought of my original purpose to calm the child and distract her from her hallucination of incineration. I fucked the nine-year-old's face harder, each smack of my crotch against her face and slap of my heavy scrotum against her chin louder, until - "AHHHHH!" I boiled over. The first shot went straight down the little girl's throat. She choked as it went down the wrong pipe and I pulled back, loosing her ears but holding the back of her neck firmly so she couldn't pull away. My next ejaculations filled her mouth as she gagged and coughed, trying to draw breath against the viscous liquid clogging her trachea. I held her there as she gummed vigorously at my shaft and her tongue pressed my glans against the roof of her mouth, held her until the last bit of my hot cum dribbled down her chin. Then I pulled her off my cock with a loud pop and let go.

Lilah collapsed into a heap at my feet, still coughing and choking as the water poured over her bare tattooed body. The knobs of her spine stood out between the top and bottom rockers etched into the pale skin: the name of the m/c across her shoulders and, in similarly ornate script, the word "MONSTER" arcing down from her hips to cover the dimples at the base of her spine.

As the coughing fit passed, the little girl flopped over on her back, her eyes glazed and unfocused as the water beat down on her face. Her tongue snaked out and licked at the foam of semen and saliva rimming her lips. She heaved a sigh, then pushed herself up to her knees and shook herself like a wet dog. Then she looked up at me - and smiled. "Good morning," she lisped. "Can I have breakf-" the word was interrupted by a long belch. "-More breakfast?" And she giggled.

The blowjob, however violent, had served its purpose. We had learned that when Lilah was overtaken by hallucinations of pain or terror, it required equally strong real sensations to shock her broken mind back to reality, or as close to it as she ever came. Once she "remembered" that she lived with "good monsters" in the "good monster cave", she was happy and compliant again.

I took Lilah's hand and we went downstairs together. I put on a robe but so far we'd had no success at getting her to wear clothes so she sat naked at the table while I made her scrambled eggs. Another thing we'd yet to succeed at was reminding her of table manners. She ignored the fork I put at her place and shoveled the eggs in with both hands, getting plenty on her face and spilled down her skinny flat chest. The plate was empty in seconds, and without looking at me she said only "More!" I filled her plate twice more. After emptying it the third time she licked it clean, then licked her hands clean, then using fingers and tongue methodically cleaned every last morsel off her face, her neck, her thighs, the table, the chair seat, and the floor around her. The process was messy but no one could argue with the end result. It had taken a couple of weeks, but some simple conditioning had impressed on her the importance of cleaning up after herself. And that is why she stepped up on the chair and sat down on the kitchen table, then fell back supine and spread her skinny thighs wide, in order to get her reward for being a good little monster.

I put the dishes in the sink and sat down at the table between Lilah's legs, pulling her close so I could examine her tiny cunny close up. It was smooth and hairless. It would have been pale except for being tattoed with the maw of a multicolored serpent whose body coiled across her stomach. Her vulva bulged, breaking the smooth flat line of her body from chest to knees. The three chrome grommets punched through each of her labia gleamed in the sunrise slanting across the table. I think they made a real improvement over the spikes they had replaced, though the scarring on the poor child's inner thighs would be a permanent reminder. Her lips were practically the only fat part of her body and always seemed a little swollen. They were closed up tight except for a tiny deep crimson teardrop opening at the bottom. And at the top was what I hoped would be the last body modification the child would ever suffer. In order to remove the torture device that had been literally wired onto her clitoris I had been forced to slice open her clit hood, a cut of maybe half an inch or so. It had not fused back together, instead had pulled back and healed in two pieces, exposing the end of the bulb of her clitoris, the most nerve-dense tissue on a woman's - or a girl's - body.

I wrapped my hands around Lilah's scrawny, scarred thighs and spread them wide apart, making her vulva bulge up even further as the tendons in her thighs pulled tight. I bent my head and, ever so lightly, blew on her tiny clit. The reaction was instant. Her body tensed. She threw her head back until the cords in her neck stood out, and her legs kicked out straight on either side of me. Her tusks clashed together as her mouth opened wide and a long sigh bubbled out along with a literal bubble of saliva. After a long ten seconds her body gradually relaxed. She lifted her head, our eyes met and her lips curved in a wide, distorted smile. "Again!" she said. I obliged, with the same result. "Again!" A third time, and now she was panting heavily, her chest rising and tattooed belly hollowing. She gasped out another "Again!" but this time I did something different. Inserting two fingers of each hand in the grommet holes I peeled her labia slightly apart. Then I stuck my tongue into the teardrop opening, wiggling it in as far as I could, tasting her light flavor, a mix of her scant preteen lubrication, sweat, urine, and a hint of copper. Slowly I licked upwards, slipping into the tiny gap I pried open between the pillows of hairless flesh.

As soon as my tongue touched her exposed clitoris, Lilah came. Her body went stiff again but this time her legs started shaking, a shaking that turned into a full-body shiver that swept over her. Her hands groped upwards, opening and closing on nothing and her tusks clashed together again as her mouth made a wide O. Waves of gooseflesh swept over her body as the orgasm gradually receded and she lay quiet. Her head slumped to the side, her mouth opened, tongue hanging out, and drool puddling beneath her cheek.

That was all it took, the slightest lick against the tiny pink bud and she would instantly climax. I licked her clit again and was rewarded with a repeat performance, this one lasting longer and leaving Lilah gasping for breath. And then again, except this time I didn't break contact but rather covered her entire cunny with my mouth, sucking and licking the hypersensitized bud as ever-strengthening waves of orgasm crashed over the little girl. Her flavor got stronger and more delicious. Her body trembled so hard that I had to tighten my grip on her thighs lest she tumble right onto the floor. She was moaning in a broken cadence as she banged her head against the table. She grabbed at her skinny chest, pinching her nipples and pulling them up into little peaks. Her moans rose to become a garlgling scream and then transitioned to sobs and incoherent babbling that finally, after ten minutes or so of my oral assault, resolved to "no more, no more no mooooore" as she started trying to wrench her cunt away from my sucking mouth rather than press it into me. I finished off with a quick nip of my incisors at her clit, now swollen and fire-engine red. Lilah responded with a brief scream and then went limp. Sweat was dripping off every part of her body. Even the fine light fuzz growing in on her head was damp and darkened with moisture. She was so skinny I could see her heart hammering double-time in her chest. Her solid blue eyeballs were shiny with unshed tears, the blown pupils staring sightlessly upwards. Eventually her breathing slowed, turning deep and regular, and her eyes drifted closed. She started to snore.

I licked my index finger and inserted it, none too gently, into her cunt until I could just tickle her cervix with my fingertip. Lilah had no reaction. She was out cold. I withdrew my finger and licked it clean, savoring the taste. I carried Lilah upstairs and laid her down on my bed. I grabbed the pee-stained dog bed and took it down to start the washing machine, then brought a damp mop back upstairs to wipe up the urine spots on the floor. Only then did I get dressed. I lay down on the bed next to Lilah and rolled her naked body over on top of me. Deeply asleep, she fit her face into the hollow of my shoulder. Her tusks pricked my neck lightly. I dozed, waiting for Karen to arrive.