Fettered Hopes

"Please don't do this, uncle F!" She whispered, tears rimming her pleading eyes. "It's not fun anymore!"
"Sorry, honeybunch", he countered, one heavy hand resting idly on her thin shoulders. His fingers reflexively kneaded the thin blouse his niece was wearing. Her back pressed against the wall, her brunette angel face barely reached the top of his biceps.

It would be hours yet before anyone came back to the house. For at least an evening, he had his plaything. Plenty of time to relax, clean up and convince his young lady about the importance of secrets. A thin grin split his face, as his other hand tousled her long hair. The things she could do for him!

Wearing a tight white raglan shirt with a faded popstar that she'd outgrown, revealizing a tantilizing hint of taut midriff, and loose pajama pants, she was a study of innocence caught in a spider's web. Long chestnut hair cascading past a cherub face, pouting french lips now locked in fear. It was cold down here in the unfinished basement, but she was so radiantly beautiful as to make Santa reach for his shirtsleeves.

He gazed down at her, standing ram-rod stiff, her every muscle locked in terror and strain, like a gazelle desperate to escape the lion in front of her. His right hand crept up her shoulder and behind her tense neck, the wall as cold as the grave and her pale flesh hot as an iron. Little tremors traced through her shirt as she shivered. His left hand ceased playing with her hair, and guided itself down to her flushed cheek. His gripped her jaw lightly, but she knew well what would happen if she resisted this seemingly casual motion.

"I don't wanna." she sobbed, locking eyes on him, desperarely trying to make him understand the pain his pleasure cost her. He applied the slightest pressure to her jaw, and like a well trained animal, her mouth popped open. The hand on the nape of her neck pushed down, ever so slightly.

Young as she was, she didn't have to lean far to get in position. The first times, he'd unzipped himself, held the meat to her refusing lips, but now he left his jeans on. Far better to make her small fingers fumble with his belt. Far better to make her complicit in her own conditioning. The blue jeans creased as she unlooped the belt, popped the threadbare button, and inchingly undid the zipper. His erection strained against his jeans, eager to leap from its threadbare holster and into action.

She pulled down the jeans, her distant gaze locked to a vision a thousand miles from this place, even as her trained fingers reached up again. Every tendon on her strains with her need to be somewhere, anywhere else. The meat is almost free, unbearably tight against his underwear. A gentle hand cups her chin. He can feel her quick breaths hot against his bare skin. She stares up at him, begging him one last time in silent need. Greedy eyes are her only response.

All of a sudden, the tension fades out of her, and she flashes him a practiced smile. Almost eager fingers wrap around his meat, lifting it hot and heavy in her tiny hands, and shes take a deep breath, and slides her pert lips over the tip of his shaft. It's his turn to tremble, as her sweet mouth glides over, giving a slight tug from her teeth on his foreskin. He almost releases instantly, his thick mass tensing and kicking into the roof of her mouth.

She took another deep breath, locked eyes with him, and took his dick deeper into her innocent face, almost half his length. Her delicate tongue played against the underside of his manhood - now there was a skill a woman couldn't be taught! She instinctively knew the way to please a man, and that made her a perfect project for him. His thick hands tensed and relaxed, riding her neck and cheek as she inched off, and sucked her way back up his shaft.

She broke off contact, leaving his meat slick and hungry, while she coughed precum and spittle - a throat as young as hers wasn't made for a dick this size, but damned if she wasn't trying. She leaned back without prompting, and bravely attempted to take the whole mass into her aching jaw. He could feel her straining throat as his deck pressed against the back of her pipes. Tears of effort joined the few already dotting her limpid eyes.

She slipped further down his dick, almost to the balls themselves, but begin to strain and weaken. For a while, he'd marked his penis with permanent marker to show her how much she'd taken, to give her something to strive for. Maybe in a few months she'd encompass the whole task.

Even as she gagged, her butterfly tongue continued to caress the meat already inside her - truly a talented girl! Quiet smacks and bubbles escaped her lips as she began to set up a gentle sliding rhythm.

He released his hand from her chin, and pressed it down on the meagre swell of her breasts, feeling the warm flesh tense under his strong grip. A tiny nipple ground into his palm, achingly erect. He cupped her breast gently, his thumb kneading soothing circles into the taut fabric.

Her skilled hands worked his instrument like a violin, and her quick breaths seemed to fill his dick with a fever, a delerium that rushed through him with a pounding rhythm. A groan slipped from his lips, and he knew it was almost time to let her have her reward. The hand still on the back of her neck loosened it's grip, and he slyly placed a thumb on the fore of her slender throat. Almost...

She paused in her moist work, throwing him a cautious glance. Well... might as well.

With a hiss, he slapped her tender face with an open palm, knocking spittle and his dick from her aching jaw. He spun her to face the wall, his strong hands deftly pinning both her arms behind her back. relishing how little effort it took to control this beauty. He leaned his weight on her, pinning her flat against the unforgiving concrete. Her terrified rabbit eyes stared at him over her shoulder,

He took a moment to breathe in the sight, to enjoy this quaking dove caught in his grip. He kept one hand on her arms, and with the other pressed her head to the cool wall. Her every scared breath reverbated through him, energizing his dick in a way her compliance never could.
"Sorry, but you know I can't let you enjoy this part. It's what it's all about, you know? Say you understand."
He pushed her face harder against the wall.
"Say it."
She gasped something incoherent, a prayer or curse of pain.
He twisted a knot of her hair, leaning heavily into her and grinding her against the wall.
"I I understand! Just stop!" she begged between sobs.

"It's good to know your place in things" he murmured. He relaxed his grip slightly, and she would have fallen to her knees had he not wrenched her back into place. He released the hand on her arms, which she curled around herself in a defensive hug, clutching her quaking body.

For the first time this night, he touched his dick with his own hands, and aimed it like the weapon it was at her shaking cheek. His iron grip on her small head kept her face pinned against the wall, tears matting her hair and gleaming down the wall. He cocked his dick like a gun, once, twice, three times.

Thick ropes of semen burst out, splattering her perfect cheek and running slick with her tears down to her mouth. Scattered strands dripped to her blouse, now ruined - other gobs fused with her knotted hair. Uncle Frank leaned back a moment to admire his handiwork - he had always loved to sign his masterpieces. Finally he released his adorable niece to collapse to the ground in hysterical sobs.

His flaccid dick, now drained of it's passion, hung half to his knees. He thought about zipping it up, but decided instead to walk with open dominance exposed until the young girl's father returned. Leaning down with a grunt, he caught her shoulder, easily catching the desperate blow she attempted. Hauling her to his feet, he looked at the ruined innocent in front of him, face stained with hate, and was proud of his work.

"Come on girl, off to the showers now - I'd hate for anyone you loved to see you in such a state."