The Talent Scout

“Good game, girls!”

Becky Wilder looked up at the stands as she trotted off the smudged-up basketball court. The stands were filled with familiar faces; her teammates’ parents and siblings, her own friends and acquaintances. Her parents weren’t there; her mother had left them nearly four years ago, and her father worked all the time. Becky didn’t really mind; she and her dad didn’t have much in common and argued frequently.

Her hair was bright, summery blond, though now it was darkened with sweat and plastered against her head, held back tightly by a thick black hair band. She had wide, innocent-looking blue eyes, and a mouth that was a bit too large for her slim face. She was one of the best players on the LaHaye High School basketball team, and while she was good friends with some of her teammates, the few other girls who were very talented were also very popular. Becky had never quite fit in with that crowd.

A tall, broad-shouldered man watched from the throng of people jumping in the stands. His steady, forest green eyes, heavily shadowed by his prominent brow, stayed on Becky as she jogged off of the court.

She wore the standard satiny, red-and-silver uniform that the LaHaye Firebirds were known for. The uniform was baggy on her tall, skinny frame, the shorts loose on her narrow waist and falling down to the knees that were too obvious for her liking, and the tank-top so roomy that the armpit holes hung down low enough to expose most of the sides of her black sports bra. If it weren’t for her height – nearly six feet – Becky would just look like a little girl playing dress-up in her older brother’s uniform.

The man’s eyes studied Becky; she was pretty in an odd sort of way – a bit too bony, perhaps, but a healthier diet could possibly help, and weight-training. A little muscle would definitely help define her boyish physique, the man thought. Becky smiled, laughed – a natural reaction, he supposed, to having just creamed the other team. Her lips stretched around a large mouth filled with shiny white teeth, almost flawlessly straight.

Her blond ponytail hung several inches past her shoulders, swaying energetically as she moved. Bits of hair frizzed out around her skull, a result of the sweat that coated her pale, clear skin. The man could still see the gleam of it on her evident cheekbones.

He made his way carefully through the clumps of people that were now slowly making their way out of the gymnasium. He wore a casually neat suit in charcoal gray with a burgundy tie and looked stunningly out of place in such a carefree environment.

He approached Becky with his hands dug deep in his pockets and his eyes trained directly on the athletic youth. She now stood with one of her teammates, a short, fashionably-curvy redhead who had one arm looped around a handsome young man. All three were laughing and talking excitedly, though the man noticed Becky kept glancing toward the exit. He wondered for a moment why she so wanted to leave.

“Excuse me,” he said, stepping between Becky and the bouncing redhead, “are you Rebecca Wilder?”

The trio stopped talking immediately, all three gazes curiously on the newcomer. After a hushed, startled moment, Becky nodded. “Yes. Who are you?”

“Vane Tremont. I’m a basketball scout for Ferris State University,” the man explained, watching the realization come over Becky’s face. “You are a very talented young woman.”

“I – I – thank you.” Becky’s gaze flickered from Vane Tremont, to her red-haired friend, and back to Vane again.

“I’d like to meet with you sometime,” Vane went on, lifting a small business card out of his pocket. “You obviously have quite a future in sports, and I’d like to discuss your options with you. Ferris State is rather interested in your skills.”

“Really?” Becky bit her lip, glanced at her friend again. “I – that would be great, Mr. Tremont. I think. Really great.”

“Listen, I’ll be in town for the next couple of days. If you give me a call sometime tomorrow, perhaps we could meet for lunch,” he suggested, handing her the card.

“Sure. Great.” Becky took the card, staring at it as if it held the answer’s to life’s most pressing questions.

“Good.” Vane held out his hand, smiling as the redhead nudged Becky to wake her up and Becky finally took his hand. He shook, firmly. “Tomorrow, then. It was nice meeting you, Miss Wilder.”

“Nice meeting you too,” Becky echoed. He’d think of her face later, frozen in the expression that she wore at that moment – shell-shocked and startled, but so close to being blissfully happy.

*~*~*

Vane Tremont had read up on Becky Wilder. He’d seen her picture on the front page of the LaHaye High Gazette in the issue that had been released the week before. Her full name was Rebecca Lisbeth Wilder, and she’d lived in Malton Township for her entire life. She was eighteen, had no siblings, and her mother was long gone.

She was not classically pretty, and as far as he’d been able to tell, she had never had a boyfriend. And yet, Vane found himself painfully, inexplicably, attracted to her.

At nearly forty, Vane knew he could have children her age, if he’d ever married and settled down. But Vane had always been good-looking, carrying with his still-well-built body an aura of utter sex appeal, and his dark brown hair was still thick and glossy. True, it was now edged with silver, but it still tempted women to run their fingers through it, and that was satisfactory enough for him.

He’d never had a problem finding a woman to warm his bed, and his sexual prowess was legendary. His reputation was probably why he could now fulfill whatever kinky adventure his libido thought up; his women were always satisfied, so now, when he wanted to dominate them, control them, use them . . . well, he always had a ready supply.

He had told young Becky the truth; he did work as a scout for Ferris State University, and he had actually come with previous knowledge of her. She was renowned throughout the state for her ability in basketball, and had been an All-State athlete the year before. Ferris State was honestly interested in her, and Vane was her most likely ticket for the team.

However . . .

Vane had failed to mention what he wanted to do with her. That the moment he’d sat down in LaHaye’s gymnasium and the game had begun, his eyes had keyed in on her, and he’d been picturing those long, lean legs wrapped around his waist instantly.

He had failed to mention the image of tearing off her sweaty, shiny uniform and whatever undergarments covered her skinny, teenaged body and shackling her to the wall. Her body would be spread wide open, each ankle and wrist attached to the wall by a manacle, each pulled as far from her body as it could get. Her small breasts would be pressing forward, her untouched cunt would be exposed. Vane could practically feel the soft layer of blond curls that would provide very little shielding from his heated vision.

Vane was lying on his bed now, his arms behind his head. The white shirt he’d worn earlier was now unbuttoned, the suit jacket was hung neatly over a chair. His penis had hardened just from thoughts of Becky’s slim, white little body, open and unprotected, and it was now pushing insistently against his dark gray slacks.

He rarely wore underwear.

Vane slowly unzipped his pants, allowing his erection to spring upward. It was nearly nine inches and had caused, he knew, many a woman to salivate. It was a bronze trophy, an object of beauty and desire, and blood surged through it eagerly. The uncut tip was already boiling, droplets of heat and wanting already spilling over.

Vane parted his pants and slid his fingers into the crisp patch of hair that flourished around his cock’s thick base. He hadn’t gotten any action in more than a month. It was the busy season in his line of work; he’d been traveling so much that he hadn’t had a chance to visit any of his regular women, and most of the women he spoke to while on the road were either overweight mothers or their skinny, underage daughters. Most hadn’t even gotten a rise out of his normally overactive cock.

His fingers curled around the base,
sliding slowly upward, inch by throbbing inch. He didn’t quite understand why Becky appealed to him so much; she was skinny, and while he very much appreciated narrow hips and tiny breasts, Becky was almost too skinny. Almost waif-like.

Her nose didn’t quite match her face, and, though she had lovely eyes, her mouth was too big. It certainly didn’t escape his notice that a big mouth could come in handy, particularly with a penis as large as his own, but it didn’t win her any beauty points.

Her hair was nice, Vane thought, his fist beginning to quicken its journey. His skin was taut and gleaming, and, as he used his second hand to massage his testicles, he knew he had to fuck her. After a month of celibacy, and without much inspiration for masturbating, his balls felt heavy and full. He’d do anything to empty himself in her tight, and he was almost positive, virgin hole.

Groaning as he neared orgasm, Vane had to gulp in air and force himself to release his penis. He wanted to fill up Becky’s pussy tomorrow; why waste all of his fresh cum on a cold bedspread?

He stripped down, slipping beneath the stiff hotel sheets in his usual bedtime attire: nothing.

*~*~*

“How long have you been playing basketball?”
Vane and Becky were sitting across from one another in a friendly, airy restaurant. Both had ordered some sort of a sandwich and were nibbling on their respective meals occasionally, though Becky was too nervous to eat much and Vane too horny.

“Since I was about six, I think.” Becky guzzled her water down, her nerves on edge.

“Your daddy teach you?”

“Yes.”

Vane gave her a smile, one that had charmed many hearts to melt and many pairs of legs to open. “You’re not a real talkative one, are you?”

“I am,” Becky said, sounding a bit defensive. “I just . . . well, I am usually.”

“Nervous?” Vane’s tone was sympathetic.

“A little,” Becky admitted. Her hair hung straight and somewhat limp around her face. She wrapped her fingers in the ends of it, a comfort that she didn’t even notice. “It’s just . . . Ferris State would be my school of choice, sir. I’ve wanted to go there for as long as I can remember. I want so much for this to go right, because my dad and I – well, I can’t really afford to pay for school. If I want to go, I need a scholarship.”

Vane nodded. “I understand. From the looks of it, you know, you have a good chance of getting one from Ferris State.”

“Really?”

The charming smile curled across his face again. “I can’t make any promises yet, but yes. Now, just relax a bit and enjoy this lunch. It’d make the school’s decision easier if I could tell them a bit more about you.”

Becky chewed on her lower lip. She was a rather tense girl, Vane noted. She looked better today, which was, he supposed, a good thing, since yesterday she’d been dripping with sweat. She wore blue jeans that were, of course, a bit too large, and a tight red shirt that was a bit too short. “Well, what would you want to know?”

The rest of the conversation went smoothly. She opened up a little, telling him about her friends, her classes, and her father. She was still occasionally hesitant, but had become more at ease and friendly.

Vane chatted mindlessly about his job and about the school, though he was secretly trying to figure out a way to get her relaxed enough to come back to his hotel room. If he couldn’t even get the girl to talk about sex with him, how was he supposed to get her to have it?

And then – the perfect opportunity.

“Who was the redhead at the game?” Vane asked. His sandwich was now almost gone. “Your best friend?”

“Yes, how’d you know?”

“When girls are best friends, they have that giggly vibe,” Vane explained, grinning. “I’ve never seen a girl giggle more than when she’s with her best friend, and you two had a lot of giggling going on.”

Becky grinned. “I guess we did.” She tugged on the crust of her sandwich absentmindedly. “That’s Abby Perkiss. We’ve been best friends since we were nine.” Her grin faltered for a moment. “Though lately, we really haven’t been as close.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Well, she started dating that guy you saw her with – Lance Peters – about six months ago,” Becky told him, twisting the ends of her hair. “I mean, that wasn’t really a problem, y’know? Abby’s forever having boyfriends. Boys think she’s so hot.”

Vane nodded.

“But, well, with Lance, it’s different.” Becky fell quiet again, struggling with her words. “She says she’s in love with him. Even that wasn’t a problem – she still hung out with me pretty often, and we still told each other everything, y’know? But then, they – they –“

She stopped talking completely, and Vane didn’t realize that she wasn’t going to start again until a minute or two later. “They what, Becky?” he asked, touching her wrist gently with his fingers. Her hand had been busily twisting the ends of her hair, almost knotting it, and at his touch, she immediately stilled. “What happened?”

“Well, they, you know . . .” She kept her gaze on everything but Vane.

“They what?” he repeated, trying not to sound irritated. He was having a hard enough time concentrating on the conversation as it was. The damn shirt made it much easier for him to stare at her tiny, perky breasts, and the jeans kept slouching too low and exposing an inch or so of her stomach.

“They did it,” Becky whispered, leaning toward him.

“Did what?”

“Oh, come on.” Becky glanced around, as if anyone was actually listening to their conversation, then leaned closer. “They had sex.”

“Abby’s having sex ruined your friendship?” Vane asked, puzzled.

“Well, not exactly. It’s just that, well, after they did it, Abby still wanted to tell me everything, y’know? But with sex . . .” Becky’s face pinkened. “I can’t really relate.”

“What do you mean?” This, Vane had suspected, and didn’t surprise him at all. Of course, he still wanted to hear her say it.

“Well . . .” Becky was chewing on her lower lip double time. “I’ve never done anything more than kiss a boy, so when she starts telling me how she loves giving him head, and how it feels when he, you know –“

“When he what?” Vane was getting antsy.

“Well, does it back. You know. Like, head for a girl.” Becky seemed very uncomfortable with the words coming out of her mouth, but Vane wasn’t sure he’d ever heard anything so hot.

“You mean he went down on her.”

“Right.” Becky heaved a sigh of relief at not having to say it, but Vane didn’t want to let her off quite that easy. “Well, when she talks about that stuff, I don’t really know what to say, y’know? So I just change the topic, and it all just goes downhill . . .”

“You’ve never had a guy go down on you?” Vane asked. His green eyes were watching her every nervous move, and she had many.

“Well, no . . . I think I’d be way too self-conscious,” Becky told him.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Vane replied. “I’ve gone down on lots of women, and they all love it . . . you just have to have an experienced, skilled man doing it for you.”

“Really?” Funny, Becky was sounding a little breathless all of a sudden.

“Really,” Vane confirmed. “Though it seems like you could use a little experience in more than just that area.”

“Well, I suppose,” Becky said uncertainly. “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this.”

Vane smiled. “You’re right. This really isn’t a good conversation to be having in public. Would you like to come back to my hotel room with me? We can finish off our conversation in private.”

Becky’s eyes widened. “Um, that might not be a good idea.”

“Becky, don’t you want to save your friendship with Abby?” Vane asked, knowing he was playing with the teenager’s mind but not really caring. If he just got to see her naked, he was pretty sure he’d be okay.

“Well, of course, but –“

“All right then.” Vane reached out, touched Becky’s chin with a finger and looked straight into her eyes. “I know just how to help you.”

*~*~*

His hotel room had beige carpeting and richly-decorated walls. The bed was large, plush, and welcoming, though Becky seemed too scared to go near it. She watched him edgily once they were in his room.

“Look, Rebecca, you’ve got to relax.” Vane brushed his hand against her smooth cheek. “Why don’t you turn on the TV? I’m going to take a shower real quick, and then I’ll show you what I had in mind.”

Becky gave a curt nod, her eyes following his back as he headed into the bathroom and shut the door.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” he called. “Relax, remember?”

Good God, what am I doing? Becky seated herself on the edge of the bed, numbly pressing the power button on the remote control. Some sort of soap opera was on, and despite Becky’s distaste for it, she didn’t even bother changing it.

Okay, yes, Vane had a point – if she experienced what Abby had experienced, they would no longer have to worry about the ever-growing rift between them, since they’d once again have almost everything in common.

That was point one.

Point two was, well, Vane was a very handsome man. Much better-looking that the short, acne-riddled boys that populated her high school. The very same boys that called her Giraffe and Long-Neck, and found feminine hygiene products very, very amusing. Vane was mature, and attractive, and sexy. And experienced. If he showed her the way, well, she’d be very skilled indeed.

Point three . . . if Vane Tremont was who he said he was, sleeping with him certainly would not hurt her chances of getting a scholarship.

And going back to point two, she really, really wanted him.

Becky knotted her hair around her fingers. Maybe if she just had some reassurance that he wasn’t lying to her – that he was who he said he was. That he really was a scout. Maybe then she’d feel better about this whole thing.

She listened for a moment; the shower had only been turned on a few minutes before. Surely he’d be in there a while longer.

Becky began scrambling around the room, digging through the suitcase she’d discovered in the closet and through the drawers that he’d neatly folded most of his clothes into. Vane was apparently a very neat, precise man, which Becky, an organizational hazard, had to admire. But she’d also found no proof that he was a scout for Ferris State. She hadn’t even found proof that his name was really Vane Tremont.

What kind of name was Vane, anyway?

She was carefully prying through his pants when a hand slapped around her wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Vane’s hair and body was dripping from his shower, but his face was scarlet and twisted in a scowl that heated Becky’s blood and terrified her at the same time. “Nothing,” Becky stammered.

“Nothing? Nothing!” Vane wore nothing but a towel that clung stubbornly to his hips, but Becky didn’t think she’d ever seen a more powerful man. He gripped both of her arms in his hands, lifting her as easily as a toy and flinging her onto the bed. “Do you think you honestly have any right to go through my things?”

“I just – I wanted –“

“You didn’t,” Vane snarled. He was no longer shouting, but his fingers were digging into her arm again. “I was going to be nice to you.”

“You were going to?” Becky squeaked. She tried to pull her arm away, but it was futile, and her panic – and arousal – heightened as she realized she had no escape.

“I was going to lick your pussy, and I was going to finger-fuck you until you came all over me,” Vane told her. His face had relaxed somewhat, and his voice had calmed. “I really wanted to taste you, you know. I haven’t tasted pussy juice in more than a month, and I really wanted some. Besides, I bet you have a delicious cunt.”

Becky shivered at the terrible language.
No one had ever used such words in front of her before. No one had touched her like this before either; he seemed to have calmed suddenly, but his grasp was no looser and was actually beginning to bruise.

“Now though,” Vane continued, “you’ve fucked up. Don’t worry though; I know just how to treat girls like you.”

“Girls like me?”

Vane grabbed the skinny eighteen-year-old and yanked her to her feet. “Unfortunately we’re not at my house; I have better equipment there, but I do have a bit of my travel things, and they’ll have to do.” He held her steady with one hand, and with the other, grabbed the neckline of her tight shirt and tore it right down the middle. It fell off easily, tattered and angry as it crumpled on the ground.

Vane grinned, a sardonic grin not nearly as charming as his usual smile. “I figured you wouldn’t wear a bra, not with those little tits.”

Becky shrieked in outrage and tried to cover herself up, but Vane wouldn’t have it. “Maybe you’d like to remove your jeans,” he offered, his expression disarmingly kind.

Becky did want to; she knew now what Abby had meant when she’d told of how bad she wanted her boyfriend to fuck her sometimes, and how she was willing to do whatever he wanted as long as he’d do it. But Abby had never mentioned Lance being pushy with her, or ripping her clothing. Was this unusual? Becky wondered, scared beyond reason and yet, she could feel that her pussy was hot and ready. She slowly unhooked the button and unzipped her jeans. In moments, they too were crumpled on the ground. She now stood, facing Vane, in merely her faintly floral-patterned cotton panties.

“I figured you wouldn’t be the satin and
silk type also,” Vane said, his voice gruff as he drank in the sight of a seventeen-year-old in her brief panties. She didn’t seem to know where to put her hands now, and despite his roughness with her, he had to pause as he admired her soft, milky breasts, small and pert and adorned by pretty, carnation pink nipples.

With one swift move, Vane had torn off her panties as well. His cock swelled dramatically, straining against the zipper of his khakis as he stared at the sweet little cunt that was exposed to his hungry eyes. He’d been right about the light blond curls, he thought, the blond curls that scarcely hid the moistened slit between her legs.

Becky’s body shook; the room was warm, so Vane had to assume it was from fear. The satisfaction he derived from that fact forced his penis to enlarge itself even more. “Stand in front of the window,” he said softly.

Becky’s gaze fell on the enormous windows that were covered only by filmy curtains, and those were already pushed to each side. The sill was high enough that the most obvious part of her womanhood would be concealed, but still, her upper body would be exposed all the way down to her knobby hips. “I can’t,” she whispered.

The slap was unexpected, and so hurt more. Becky’s face whipped to the side, her cheek stinging. Truly, Vane hadn’t hit her very hard, but with the element of shock, and the fact that he had used a little force, Becky was terrified into submission.

She muddled her way to the window, her nipples puckering as she neared the glass. Vane’s room was on the fourth floor, but still, it was facing a main road, and Becky dreaded anyone seeing her.

She heard Vane moving around behind her, but when she turned to look, he issued a harsh threat, and she quickly returned to facing the window.

“Put your arms up,” he ordered, huskily, his breath hitting her ear. Becky nearly jumped; she hadn’t realized his proximity, but she quickly did as she was told. First her left hand, and then her right, were secured with cold constraints to the long bar that that the curtains hung on. By tightening them until the blood was almost cut off from Becky’s hands, Vane assured himself that she couldn’t move either of them.

By now, Becky’s cunt was pressed up against the cool wall just below the windowsill. She knew her tight ass was glowing before Vane, and she desperately wanted to cover up.

All thoughts of modesty flew out of her head immediately at the first crack of a cane against her bottom. She screamed.

She never knew when the hits were coming. Sometimes, Vane just hit her sporadically, once in a while, waiting between his smacks until the burning cooled just a bit, and other times, he didn’t even take a breath between them. Becky sobbed hysterically, moaning for him to stop, pleading for him to stop.

Vane barely heard her screams. His own blood pulsed in his ears, roaring through his head. “You shouldn’t have looked through my things,” he shouted at her, though his own thoughts were hardly understandable. He’d done this before – obviously, since he carried both shackles and a cane with him, among other things – but never had it been with a woman – girl – so young, so innocent. Never had it been with someone as pale and thin as Becky, and the marks showed up so much more blatantly on her tender flesh. Between slams, Vane finally had to unzip and tug off his khakis, because his cock could certainly no longer handle the restraint.

He relished her cries, her begs, her sobs. He could only imagine what this looked like to one standing out on the street; he thought that her nipples were probably bright red by now. “This is what bad girls get,” he sneered at Becky, cracking the cane against her bright ass once more. “Are you ever going to sneak through my things again?”

“No,” Becky wept. She didn’t understand what was happening to her; her body was trembling from head to toe, her nipples were so hard they ached, and she could feel her pussy juice trickling down her slender legs. She understood the fire that was torturing her poor behind, but the others – they were signs of arousal. How could her body betray her in this way? How could she suffer so much pain, and then find that her body was literally pleading for more?

“No, sir, I’ll never do that again,” Becky gasped as the cane slapped against her ass again. The sting, she thought, could never fade. “I – I’ll never snoop again. I’m sorry! Please stop!”

One more earth-shattering, fire-breathing slam, and Becky’s body exploded. The uncontrollable trembles that racked her body became more severe and a red flush clouded her skin. Her legs shook, praying they’d be allowed to collapse as her body underwent the most intense orgasm of her life.

In the midst of the world-moving crash, Vane slid the cane between her wide-open legs and jammed one end inside of her drooling pussy.

Becky moaned, her body thrashing in front of the window. Several people had caught sight of the orgasmic girl and had stopped, staring. Becky didn’t even notice.

Vane smiled as he carefully unclasped the constraints and caught the boneless girl that tumbled into his arms. He placed her, face first, on top of the neatly made bed, then returned to the window and closed the curtains.

Vane reached into his bag – the one thing Becky hadn’t discovered since he’d been keeping it in the bathroom – and pulled out a jar of cream. Her body was still breathless with sobs, though he’d never seen a woman get wetter merely from hitting her. He smiled as he dug his fingers into the cream and slowly began rubbing it onto her red streaked ass.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” He kept his voice level, dark. Becky shivered.

“I – I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” Vane chuckled, a dry, sarcastic sound that made Becky’s muscles tense. “Sweetheart, you just came all over yourself. I’d say you liked it.”

Becky bit her lip as Vane rubbed the soothing cream all over her behind. She had liked it, hadn’t she? That couldn’t possibly be normal. What kind of person got sexual kicks from being beaten with a cane?

Then again, what kind of person got sexual kicks from beating someone with a cane? She sneaked a quick look at Vane. He’d removed his khakis at some point, and his penis gleamed between his legs, long and thick and unbelievably hard. Becky may have never seen one up close, nor had she ever touched one, but she wasn’t ignorant. She knew that the steaming erection Vane sported was a sure sign of excitement.

She was ashamed of the little spiral of pride that laced through her body at the thought of causing such a thing, but she couldn’t deny it. That thing had her name written all over it.

Vane noticed what she was looking at. “You’ve never seen one of these, huh?”

“I have,” Becky said defensively, facing the pillow in front of her and trying to concentrate on how lovely it felt when Vane wiped on that cool cream.

“Oh, yeah?” He was skeptical.

“Okay, fine, so I saw it in a porn movie that my friend’s brother had.” Becky’s expression grew pouty. “It doesn’t mean that I don’t know what it is.”

“I never said that.” Vane wiped his hands on the towel he’d brought in from the bathroom. “Doesn’t really matter anyway. By the time you leave here, you’ll know just what to do with one of these.” He carefully closed the jar of cream and replaced it in his bag. “You really do have a stunning ass, sweetheart.”

Becky didn’t know what to say, so she was silent.

Vane glanced at her. The long, lean body knelt on the bed, her rear end pushed up into the air and her head ducked into a pillow. Her ass was striped with ribbons of color and looked, he thought, delicious.

“Stand up,” he commanded, stepping back from the bed. Becky rose without hesitation; a sound thrashing often convinced people that quick and easy obedience was a smarter option.

He stood several feet from the bed and motioned the girl to come closer. She stopped mere inches from him, nearly close enough for his cock to brush against her porcelain skin. “Kneel,” he said. “You’re going to learn how to give a blow job.”

She obeyed, then looked up at him. “What do I do?”

Vane grinned, his Chesire cat grin twisting across his face. “Well, since you’re asking.” He reached down and slid his hand up and down his cock a few times. “Why don’t you just start licking up and down it?”

Becky took a deep breath before she complied. Her flower-pink tongue poked out from between her lips and began to slowly journey the length of his penis.

Vane nodded encouragingly. “Flicker your tongue a little, baby. Especially on the bottom there.”

Becky lined her tongue up the ridge on the underside of his penis, flickering on the tiny tuft of skin just below the head. She’d quickly discovered that this area brought him even more pleasure.

Soon, his cock was shiny with her saliva, and Vane barked for her to wrap her hand around it. With awkward, slow strokes, Becky obeyed.

“Okay, keep moving your hand,” Vane panted, “but just lick the tip now, sweetheart.”

Becky’s tongue circled the head, dancing over the taut, scarlet skin. Her soft, moist pad sponged over the small hole in the tip, playing with the crevice and finding herself pleased with the moans it made Vane elicit.

Vane gazed down at the young woman. Her cute, narrow face was scrunched up in concentration as she dutifully licked his cock. He pictured her as she’d been on the basketball court; she’d been sweaty and sticky, her hair plastered back, but she’d exuded youth. Her ponytail made her look years younger, and her eyes were still the same, innocent-looking blue. He loved knowing that he’d gotten those baby blues away from the basketball net and focused hungrily on his arousal.

“Put the head in your mouth now,” he rasped.

Becky paused and rested back on her heels. “I – I don’t think I can,” she said, nervous as she looked up at him. “It’s too big.”

“It’ll fit,” Vane coaxed. He wondered if Becky had any idea how arousing those looks she was giving him were. She feared him, and after such a beating, she seemed startled that he could slide back into his charming demeanor so easily. “Try it, baby.”

Becky nibbled on her lower lip, eying his thick, shiny manhood. The big-breasted women in the porn she’d seen had slipped their co-stars’ cocks into their mouths effortlessly, jamming them deep into their throats until you could see nothing but the men’s balls bouncing against the women’s chins. Becky knew she could never get to that point with Vane’s penis. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. Vane’s large, heavy balls, covered sparsely with dark hair, didn’t look that appealing.

“Put it in your mouth.” Vane’s voice, sterner now rather than persuasive, brought her attention back to the task at hand. “Now, Rebecca.”

Becky took a deep breath. She knew now that she’d end up with it in her mouth one way or the other; she’d prefer to do it the less painful way. She slowly opened her mouth and slid her lips around the tip. She felt them stretching to allow the invader access. Vane gave a slight push, and suddenly, the tip was fully inside her mouth. Becky tried to open her mouth even wider, struggling not to scrape her teeth against it. She may not have given a blowjob before, but she figured that biting it was probably not a good option.

Vane moaned as her moist mouth closed around his cock. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to cum all over her in a matter of seconds. He quickly battled for his control; it’d been a full month, dammit, since he’d last gotten a chick to suck his dick. He was not going to waste the opportunity in two seconds.

“Hold on a second, baby,” he said huskily. He needed a moment to adjust, but as he glanced down, he nearly came anyway.

There was young, pretty Becky, blond hair draping around her face, blue eyes gazing up at him for instruction. The corners of her lips had whitened from being stretched so much, and he could barely see the silky pink of her upper lip as it rubbed against his boiling hot skin.

“Lick it in your mouth.” Vane wrapped his own hand around the length of his cock, easing it up and down. God, she made a sexy picture. He could see beyond her blond head, down the slope of her back and onto the soft bubble of her behind. It was still, of course, colored by streaks of angry red, a reminder of his control over her. He’d loved how she’d trembled before him, how her body had rocked with orgasm just from feeling his hard, unforgiving cane slice against her skin.

He felt her tongue shiver over his penis. Her awkwardness worked for her, he thought. Her uncertainty, lack of knowledge, made his body rage.

“I’m going to push it in more,” Vane told her, trying to keep his voice gentle, though it wanted to stretch into a moan. He wanted to shove his arousal down her throat, but was intelligent enough to know that that could only end in vomit, and while he’d done kinky, he could find absolutely nothing sexual in that.

So despite the slight shake of Becky’s head – the only sign of refusal she could offer with her mouth as filled as it was – Vane began to ease his penis further inside.

He groaned as his skin pushed against her lips. He continued his pushing until he felt the tip hit the back of her throat. Her eyes were wide, frightened. She didn’t know what to do with it, and her cheeks puffed out slightly from the effort. Vane smiled down at her. It had been too long since he’d had such a vision kneeling before him. Since he’d had his cock stuffing any woman’s face, let alone one so young and innocent. He stroked her hair away from her face affectionately. “Move your head up and down on it,” he told her. Slowly, anxiously, Becky complied, and Vane watched through glowing, arousal-hazed eyes as his excitement disappeared in and out of her lovely mouth.

“Now you’re giving head, sweetheart,” he grunted, resting a hand on her head and pressing to quicken her sucking. Her head ducked down, time and time again. It wasn’t long before Vane couldn’t take it anymore. “Touch my balls,” he commanded.

Becky nearly stopped sucking on his cock, but Vane quickly shoved her head back onto it. “Touch them!” he snapped. He was so close to cumming, and he loved having at least a hand fondling his testicles. Hesitantly, Becky reached one of her slim white hands up, the fingertips gently playing with his sac.

“Ohh, God.” Vane felt his legs nearly give out. Becky may not have done this before, but she’d definitely caught on. Between her suction-cup lips and her tentative fingers, his orgasm was inevitable. His hips began thrusting quicker, harder, and his fingers tangled in her hair. All of his blood drained from his body and filled his cock.

Becky looked up at him, feeling a hint of pride as she watched his reaction. His balls had felt soft and full, not icky like she’d thought they would. Her jaw was sore from opening for his enormous erection, but as ashamed as the thought made her, she had enjoyed it. She, who had never attracted guys, never been pleasing enough to anyone, had brought rapture to this stunning, sexy man. She stared as the point of his pleasure struck. She was uncertain of what this meant, exactly . . . she’d missed the end of the porn, and, well, her father hadn’t been real forthcoming with information. The only sexual education she had came from a very brief explanation from her seventh grade health teacher – a fifty-some woman who’d been extremely embarrassed by the topic and very strict in her belief that they’d all “find out” on their wedding night – and Abby. Abby had mentioned this part. Becky assumed this was the “cumming”, but Abby didn’t like Lance’s cum, and usually spit it out.

So what exactly was it?

Vane’s head jerked back, and she felt his body begin to shake. His heavy breathing spun into loud, aggressive moans of pleasure. She felt a slight tightening beneath her fingertips as she gently played with his testicles, and, suddenly, it was as if a rocket had shot off in her mouth. Hot, thick cream slammed onto the back of her throat. Becky choked a little, dragging her face off of his cock. Vane grabbed her hair before she slipped away, holding her head in front of his spewing penis.

After coughing a little, Becky had managed to swallow the first spurt. The second shot across her face, coating her cheeks and lips with the white, gooey mess. After her initial shock, Becky opened her mouth again, receiving Vane’s heavy, creamy pleasure onto her lips, her tongue, her throat.

His orgasm seemed endless, his seed covering her face and filling her mouth. It was thick and salty. Becky had never tasted anything like it, but she savored it as it spread across her tongue. The flavor was hot and arousing, and Becky could feel her own juices trailing down the insides of her thighs.

Vane sighed as the pleasure subsided, leaving a lazy, deeper pleasure that kept his blood warm and his body ready. He gazed down at his girl, his sweetheart. She was certainly his now. Her face, her hair, her mouth . . . all were decorated by his cum. Her eyes were closed, content in his owning and claiming her.

“Clean off my cock now,” he ordered, forcing his voice to be steady. Becky’s eyes blinked open, those sweet baby blues focusing on his stern green ones. Her mouth opened and took in his slightly softer manhood. It didn’t take long before he’d completely hardened again, but once she’d licked up the last of the cum that clung to him, she stopped and leaned back. Vane allowed this and told her to rise. Becky stood and faced him, her skinny body unfolding. “You liked that,” he whispered. “Didn’t you?”

“I – I don’t know.” Becky lifted a hand to her hair, to continue her nervous twisting, but found herself twisting hair dripping with Vane’s cream. She quickly released it and licked her fingers clean. Vane smiled.

“You love my cum, don’t you?” He slid his finger along her cheekbone, enveloping the tip in his juice. His eyebrows raised, he offered it to her.

Becky, unable to stop herself, opened her mouth and sucked it clean.

Vane grinned. “This works out well.”

“I – I don’t –“ Becky paused, knowing it was stupid to deny it, particularly to Vane. “I can’t help it.”

“I know, honey.” Vane walked to the bedside table and tugged a Kleenex from the box. “You’ve never tasted this before. And now, sweetheart, you will never be able to get enough of it.” He knew he’d chosen well. Becky was exactly the girl he’d been looking for. He returned to her, sweetly wiping the film of cream off of her face. “Don’t worry though. I’ll make sure you always have enough.”

* * *

Becky left about fifteen minutes later, and Vane had to fight from slamming his fist around his cock as he thought about sweet, innocent, cum-loving Becky trying to sneak into her house in one of his plain white undershirts, her jeans rubbing against wet, delicate pussy. He lay back on the hotel bed, fondling his balls contentedly as he pictured her young face fucking his cock.

He made her promise she’d come over the next day after school, and Becky, nervous, obedient Becky, showed up right around four o’clock.

From what he could see, she’d done as he’d asked. She’d worn her hair down again, again went without an ounce of makeup, and was wearing a tight button-down shirt. Hers was pale pink. There was nothing sexier than ripping a button-down shirt off a girl. She was wearing jeans again, though this time, he’d instructed her to wear a pair from the year before, or maybe the year before that. As a result, they were skintight, cupping her ass and rubbing against her pussy so hard he could see her shiver slightly when she walked.

Vane heard the tentative knock on his door, and waited a few minutes before answering. When he eventually opened the door, he was wearing the terry-cloth robe provided by the hotel, which hung open lower enough to see his happy trail dipping low.

She was chewing on her lower lip and was clasping her hands behind her back edgily. Her tits stuck straight out like arrows, and he could see her nipples hardening at the sight of him – as well they should. He’d suggested, quite firmly, that she not be wearing a stitch of underwear all day at school, and, of course, when she met him.

He smiled. “Becky, sweetheart, you look beautiful.” She smiled back, a bit more confident until he reached out and pinched each of her nipples between his fingers and pulled, hard.

“Ow!” she cried out, reaching her hands up to push him away, but his gave shot up to hers and she quieted immediately.

“What was that?” he asked coolly, a note of warning clear in his voice.

“N – nothing,” she replied breathlessly, and he pulled on her nipples harder, leading her into the hotel room by the pebble-hard peaks. Her body was shaking as he twisted them mercilessly, and she moaned, suddenly thrusting her breasts full into his hands.

“There’s my sweetheart,” he said, releasing her as he lowered his face to hers and thrust his tongue into her mouth, demanding entrance, not requesting. She wriggled against him, and he knew she didn’t know what she was doing to him. He grabbed her ass cheeks in his hands, lifted her up and against his cock, and ground against her as he jabbed his tongue into her mouth. Just as quickly, he dropped her back down and pushed her toward the door. “Shut it and get over here.”

He walked over toward the bed and untied his robe, dropping it onto the floor. Becky’s gaze never wavered from his throbbing penis, shutting the door absently, her mouth opened slightly in awe.

“You know where this is going, don’t you, sweetheart?”

She finally found her voice. “Mr. Tremont, it was very difficult for me to put that – that in my mouth yesterday, and I’m not saying it wasn’t okay and everything, but I just came here to tell you that I think I learned enough to help my, uh, friendship with Abby, and I really hope that I get into Ferris State and maybe I’ll see you again then or something, but I don’t think we should, um, you know, do this. We could get in trouble.”

He was amused. She babbled like a child. It was sweet. “Becky, honey, do you remember yesterday? You can’t lie to me. I know that even as you’re standing here telling me one thing, you’re thinking about my cock. I know you’re imagining the taste of my cum again, how it felt, so thick and creamy, on your tongue . . .”

“That’s not true.” Becky tried to look stubborn and firm, but she had been thinking about it. She’d fingered herself twice last night, once this morning, and once in the bathroom between classes just thinking about it.

“Becky, darling, it’s okay. I know you liked being my whore last night. You’re just an innocent, young cum-slut.” He smiled at her, once more, before nodding at her jeans. “Take those off and come over here.”

“No, Mr. Tremont, I –“

He raised his eyebrows. “Becky, sweetheart, was that a no I heard? Maybe you’re doing this on purpose. Maybe you want me to get out the cane again . . . is that it, Becky? You want me to make you cum by beating your ass again?”

“N-no . . .”

“Then come here.” This time, his voice was firm and angry, and she immediately felt timid and silly for arguing. She knelt his front of him again, and was relieved when his hand came down to stroke her hair. “I knew that you knew what you wanted, Rebecca. Now open your mouth. You need to make me cum first today, because I want to have time to fill up again before the grand finale this evening.”

Becky opened her mouth hesitantly, probably to protest, but Vane kept his hand on the back of her head and slammed his cock into her mouth. She gagged a little, but began to move with him, her lips wrapping around and moving up and down like a pro.

“There you go, you filthy whore,” he murmured, but it was said affectionately. “I know this was what you needed . . . there you are, darling . . .” He was getting close too quickly, and he knew it, so he gently pried her off. She looked up at him, hunger clouding her eyes, and he smiled. God, she was a sexy waif, and she had no idea.

“Stand up and bend over for me,” he said, remaining just as he was, his cock erect and glistening from her mouth as she complied. It was interesting, he mused, how a simple taste of his cock got her to obey so willingly.

He stared at her now, at the worn denim
stretched tightly over her small, firm ass. It looked close to bursting, and he gently pressed his fingers along the seam. She wriggled her ass around a bit, moaning and bouncing desperately. Vane knew how to make her cum now; apparently, his little whore needed the punishment. So he drew his hand back, took aim, and cracked his palm down against one denim-clad cheek. She yelped, tears springing instantly to her eyes, as he did the same for the other cheek, faster and harder until she was nearly tipping over from the pain and pleasure of it.

Vane grabbed her hair and tugged her upright. “Kiss my hand,” he commanded, and, wiping off her tears, Becky began to kiss and lick his fingertips. He grew bored with this quickly. “Take off your fucking jeans.”

She had them off with incredible speed, and, complying with his barked orders, was back bending over again in seconds. He nudged her legs a bit more apart, enjoying the view she’d easily surrendered.

Two long, limber legs leading up to her delicious, tight butt, showcasing some of her dew-covered pussy. Already, a trail of her juice was trickling down her leg. She was a fucking horny young lady.

But his attention was truly captured by her ass. Not even just the cheeks, which were reddened and splotchy from his cruelty, and had slashes of bruises from her punishment the day before. But between them, the shadowy crevice that revealed her small, untouched rosebud.

Oh, sure, she was a virgin as well, but there was nothing quite like taking a girl’s anal cherry. It was, he knew, the pain aspect of it that appealed to him so much; it was as much penalty as it was delight.

He had his own plans with that little star for later that same evening, but he couldn’t stop himself from coming up behind her and sliding the head of his cock between her ass cheeks. He lay as much of his cock as would fit in the crevice, snapping at her, “Push your ass together. Rub it around my dick.”

She obliged, but more tensely. “Vane, are you sure that should be there? I mean, I’ve never –“

“Oh, I know you’ve never, sweetheart.” He rubbed his dick back and forth quickly, so close to cumming but forcing it back. She’d have it going into at least one of her holes before he exploded. “We’ll fix that though.”

“Vane, no –“

Before she could argue further, he’d sucked on his own finger and jammed it into her tight bottom.

“That hurts,” she cried out, pulling away, but he just forced another one in and began to fuck her. She wept softly, allowing this new invasion, horrified by the intimacy. No one was supposed to stick things in there. It was . . . unclean.

Vane only allowed it to continue for another few minutes, jamming a third finger in her pouting asshole as punishment for weakness, but only for a second. Finally, he removed them and began slapping her again, this time on her bare ass. He knew she was about to cum, her body was trembling wildly and was already flushed pink, but he released her and again, yanked her hair to bring her upright. His hand tore down the row of buttons, exposing those itty-bitty preteen tits again. He had her naked in an instant and could hardly get her to stop writhing against him. “Oh, Vane, please, please . . .” Again, she was crying, from the pain he was inflicting on her ass or her desperate need to climax, he wasn’t sure. He ripped open the hallway door, shoved her against the hotel door across the hall, and proceeded to spank her until she came, yelling out his name and all sorts of things, crying and moaning and finally, collapsing on the floor in a sweat-sticky heap. He turned around, walked back into the hotel room, and shut the door.

Oh, he didn’t lock it, but it still was several minutes before he heard a soft scraping at the door and opened it to find Becky still on the floor, though now she was sitting and she had her fingers disappearing feverishly into her slit.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he clucked soothingly, lifting her onto the bed and shutting the door behind them. He sprawled out next to her, tugging gently on her nipples. “Stop touching yourself.”

“Vane, I need –“

“Sweetheart, none of this is about what you need. Suck my cock and stop being such a selfish bitch.”

Becky needed no further persuading and crawled over to him, sucking his penis deep into her throat, hungry and desperate and dripping cum down her legs and onto the bedspread.

“Suck my balls now,” he commanded. “Now, you whore.” She hesitated, only for a moment, but she’d regret it later. Her mouth closed over his sac and she massaged it with her tongue. He grabbed her hair the moment he started to cum, just holding her face over his spouting cock. It strew over her soft blond hair.

A slow smile spread over Vane's face. Yes, he thought, she would definitely be at Ferris State next year.