Trust and Toilets "Where you headed, sweetheart?" Kierra turns slowly, small hands wiping her tear stained face, eyes red-rimmed, miserable in the cold night. She sniffles, shuffles toward the car, her slender arms curving around, crossing in front of her chest. "I-I'm going to the gas station on Route One," her voice is small, hesitant-she knows she's not supposed to talk to strangers, but it's so cold, and she is so miserable, just wants to call her dad, have him come pick her up. Her mother's sharp words, slaps still resonate in her mind, her stepfather's lazy leer haunts her. She'd waited until they slept, then left the trailer, still in her PJs. "Honey, you can't be twelve years old, what are you doing out here in the cold-in your pajamas?" He leans over, peers up at her through the passenger side window, noting the sweet flannel top, loose fitting bottoms. He's a big man, fat, jowls crowding his neck, rolls of flab overspilling his belt, straining against his button down shirt. It's been a few years since he's seen the lighter side of 400 pounds. "Come on in here, let's get you warmed up." He pats the seat next to him, his face shining, a warm smile playing about his lips. He watches her, eyes sharp, deep set, nodding as she battles with her mothers voice in her head, the admonitions to never get into cars with strange men. He pats the seat, smile spreading as she reaches for the door handle, slides into the seat next to him. "That's a good girl," he murmers, voice soft, soothing, "good girl." Kierra sits quietly, nervous, embarrassed that she's still in her plaid PJs, conscious of how she must look. "I'm fifteen!" she blurts, her eyes averted, red rising in her cheeks. "Are you, now?" He grins, his eyes sliding over her shivering form. "You're awful small for fifteen, but I guess that's okay, isn't it?" He pats her leg, his hot, beefy hand covering her knee. He nods, letting his hand remain, humming as he watches her from the corner of his eye. He begins to massage softly, calculating. "So, what's your name, sweetheart? And what are you doing out here all by yourself? Your parents must be worried sick." Kierra shakes her head, strangely soothed by his hand on her knee. She opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again, her voice small, quavering. "They don't know I'm gone," she bites back a sob, wipes her eyes angrily, "I want to go live with my dad." She sags in the seat, eyes down, sure she's made a mistake in confiding. "Please don't take me back, please don't call the police." "Sweetie, you don't have to worry about that," his voice is honeyed, smooth, his hand moving up, rubbing her thigh, his eyes darting over, looking at her. He coughs, can hardly believe his luck. "I won't get you in trouble . . . does your daddy know you're going to call him?" He holds his breath, hoping. "N-no, but I know he'll want me with him-my mom works in the morning, so does my stepdad-nobody will know I'm gone . . . if you don't tell." Kierra looks up, her eyes wide, shining. "You promise you won't tell?" "I promise." His voice is low, conspiratorial, his hand squeezing her thigh. "But I'm sorry, baby-I can't take you to the phone tonight, I'm just too beat." He smiles as her face falls, disappointment clear in her pretty face, pale blue eyes. "Don't worry-I have a motel room right up here, and in the morning we'll get you to your daddy's, okay?" "A-a motel room?" Kierra's eyes widen, a small smile lighting her face. "I've never been to a motel before-do they have a pool?" He laughs, his voice booming, pendulous belly bouncing up and down. "Well, I don't know if they have a pool, but I'll bet we could find something to do for fun." He gives her thigh a pinch, then pulls into the dark parking lot of the run down motel. He smiles, pulls around back. The motel has been defunct for nigh on three years, but as the former manager, he still has the passkey, knows where the power box is, makes use of the rooms when opportunity arises. He licks his lips, shifts his broad hips to allow his rigid cock room to grow. Not many opportunities as sweet as this one prancing around. He plans to make good use of it-and her. Kierra steps hesitantly into the dark room, her eyes traveling over the dirty bed, the sparse furnishings. She smiles, sees it in a far better light, conscious only of the exotic feeling of being in a motel, in a new room, a new bed. He steps in behind her, a Coleman lamp in each hand. Lighting them, he sets one on the rickety bedstand, another on the precariously leaning desk against the wall. "You wait right here!" He smiles, leaving the room for a moment to crack open the box, turn on the power. He strides ponderously back to the door, breath coming in excited hitches as he closes it behind him, triple locks it. Panting, he walks to the bed, pats it expectantly. "Come sit with me, Kierra, let's get to know each other better." He gulps as she approaches, drags a sleeve across his sweating lip. He moans softly as the bed depresses beside him. He watches as her coltish legs fold up under her, her face turns up expectantly. "So, Kierra-do you have a boyfriend?" He turns, the bed shaking with the shift of his massive weight. "Any sweethearts? Secret lovers?" "No!" Kierra giggles, blushing sweetly. "My mom says I'm not old enough to have a boyfriend!" She looks up, sees that his smile is gone, his features dark, displeased. "But-but I do have a boy I like at school." She holds her breath, hopes she's pleased him. He's done so much for her, been so nice, she doesn't want to disappoint him. "Do you?" His voice is soft, low, an eyebrow cocked. "What do you do with him?" "S-sometimes we kiss a little." She blushes deeper, looks down. "How do you kiss?" He leans closer, his breath, sharp and sweet from cigarettes and beer, is hot on her face. "Show me how you kiss him." Kiera shakes her head, then stops, seeing his brows come down, a frown form on his face. She nods hesitantly, leans into him, cheeks burning as her lips brush his lightly. She pulls back, giggles embarrassedly. "That's all? That's hardly a kiss at all." His voice is light, disdainful. "We-we touch our things sometimes," Kierra is frantic, desperate to please, "you know, like he touches me down there and I touch him." "Mmmmm," he smiles, his piggish eyes bright in the lamp light, "I like that game, I play that sometimes, too." He rolls on his side, grunting with the effort. "We should play that now." "I-I don't . . ." "Don't you want to have fun with me? I gave you a ride, let you come to my motel room, didn't tell on you. I could tell on you now, I could tell your mom and dad what you do with this boy, the other boys." His voice is viper smooth, broken only by his heavy breathing. "No, no!" Kierra's eyes are wide, full of fear. "I want to play with you, I want to, please!" "Mmmm, that's a good girl." His hand snakes up her thigh, rubbing softly, then up, massaging her pussy through the thin flannel of her PJs. He pants heavily, nuzzles her neck as he throws a meaty leg over one of hers, trapping her. With a hungry moan, he grasps the elastic at her waist, jerking it down over her slim hips. His hand moves hungrily to her sweet, hairless mound, fingers poking, prodding as she whines, her eyes filling with shamed tears. "Fifteen, are you?" He laughs, his belly jouncing against her, "Fifteen, mmmmm, I like fifteen." Kierra lies still, her legs spread, body trembling as his calloused hand rubs roughly, spreading her pussy lips. A fat finger finds her tight hole, begins grinding into her. This isn't like at school, she's paralyzed, petrified. It hurts, she wants him to stop, but she told him she would play, doesn't want to make him mad, make him tell on her. She whimpers as his chubby digit pushes deeper into her tight snatch, turns her face away from his, unable to bear his fetid breath burning her face any longer. She stares into the dark, waiting for him to finish the game. "Roll on your belly." His voice is hoarse, deep, his breath catching in deep gasps, his hand firm on her hip, lifting her, moving her. She allows him to position her, thankful that now he won't be able to see her face, won't be able to reach her privates anymore. She rests her head on her arms, closes her eyes, thinking maybe if she feigns sleep he will tire of playing. She lies motionless, bites her lip as he hooks his fingers under the elastic waist of her PJs, jerks them down around her knees. His hands, sweaty, hot, grasp her pale thighs, pull them apart. She feels him rise off the bed, thanks God, thinking at last he's done. Her cheeks burn in the dim light as she thinks about what she's let him do. She'll never tell, she knows. It's all her fault, she never even said no-how would he know she didn't like it if she didn't say so? And now she can't, he'll know she lied, he'll be mad at her. He strips his shirt off, staring all the while at her prone form. A shiver of excitement passes through him as his hands fumble eagerly at his fly. He drops his trousers, glances down. Impressive at nine thick inches, he can, if he bends, see the head bobbing under the mass of his belly. He grasps it, works it eagerly as he climbs back on the bed, heaving himself between her slender legs. With a strained grunt, he flops onto her, crushing her into the lumpy mattress, his dewlaps enveloping her as his hips jerk, his cock prodding, pressing against her smooth pussy. He moans, humping, his cock sliding between her parted lips, back, forth, back again, seeking, then finding. With a gasping laugh, he thrusts up hard, forcing his thickness into her small, tight hole. Kierra gasps, gags under him, her voice small, breathless as his weight crushes her. She squirms helplessly, her pretty hands clawing at the pillow, clenching the dirty sheets as he punches up again and again, thrusting cruelly against her hymen. Her eyes are wide, stunned, her mouth hanging open as she sobs breathlessly, struggling to take in enough air to cry out, to beg him to stop, tell him it hurts, it hurts, please stop! His face presses against hers, his dirty breath filling her nose, his tongue swiping her cheek, licking her tears off as he heaves frantically over her. Her legs jerk helplessly, her feet drumming the stained bedding as his cock thrusts into her again and again, stretching her, tearing her. She grunts, whines reedily under him as her belly cramps, her hips ache. She mumbles, whimpers, tries to tell him he's tearing her in two, ripping her in half. But the only sounds are her choked, airy whines, his gasping grunts and groans, the sick, slapping of his sweat soaked fat smacking her ass, her thighs over and over. She stares stupidly across the room, gasping, grunting as his pace quickens. He slams home hard, deep, then holds, gives a hoarse shout as his cock explodes inside her, filling her battered hole with his thick seed. He laughs, gasping as his hands grind under her, seeking her small, sweet little breasts. He sighs, grunting in her ear as his hips jerk convulsively, fucking his cum deep into her. Kierra moans, whimpers as he whispers in her ear. "Whore. Whore." His voice is husky, breathy, "I knew you were a whore, letting me touch you, telling me you wanted me to play your dirty little game with you. This is your fault-you worthless whore, this is your fault, your daddy won't want you now, your mommy will hate you." He grunts, begins to rise, then falls on her again, crushing her into the bed, humping obscenely against her trembling ass. He moves hard, smashing her into the musty mattress, reveling in the feel of her small, gasping body under him. With a satisfied laugh, he rolls off her, smiles at the bloody cumstreak his cock leaves on her thighs. Kierra sobs, dragging in deep, hitching breaths. Whining, she struggles to roll onto her side, her slick thighs sliding across each other. Her belly is on fire, she curls up, fetal, hugging herself as she hears him begin to snore. Her lips tremble, she whimpers, whispers, "Mommy. Mommy, I'm sorry . . ." She cries softly, afraid she'll wake him. She stares desolately into the dark, knows he's right-she let him do this, she spread her legs for him, let him touch her, told her she wanted to play the game, her dirty game. She got into his car, even though she knew not to. She whimpers, hugs herself tighter. She's bad. She's a bad, stupid girl, nobody will love her now. Her eyes close, she thinks about the other boys she's played the game with, feels so filthy. So worthless. The bed shudders, lurches, bringing her back to awareness. She groans, blinks, her pussy raw, thighs aching. His hand, rough, insistent, grasping her shoulder, pulling her onto her back. She stares up-into his balls, his cock bobbing before her face. A hot stink emanates from them, filling her nose. She tries to turn her head, whimpers as he grabs her hair, jerks her face back. "I touched you last night, now it's your turn to touch me-with your tongue." His voice is thick, gravelly. She shakes her head, crying, her small hands pushing against his thick, flabby thighs. "Please, please," she sobs, her eyes swollen from crying, "please, that's dirty, please I don't want to." "You want me to get dressed, go call you mommy and daddy, tell them what you did last night, how bad you were?" He jerks her head with each word, his piggy eyes shining in the dusty light. "I will, I'll call them, tell them you played your game with me, you let me touch you, let me stick my thing inside you." He laughs, presses his stinking cock against her lips. "I'll tell them about the other boys you let touch you, tell them what a whore you are-they'll send you away forever, they'll hate you." He groans as her mouth opens, her tongue touches his meat, licks. "That's right, whore, lick it like ice cream, lap it all up, clean it." Kierra licks, her belly clenching tight, her voice small, hiccupping as she whimpers, laps at his thick cock. His fingers stroke her face, then dig painfully into her cheeks, forcing her jaws wide. With a thick grunt, he thrusts his swollen meat into her small face, panting as he slams deep, forcing her tight throat open. He leans forward, the fat of his massive belly enveloping her face, suffocating her even as his tool stretches her throat, gags her. He begins thrusting frantically, his fat rolling in waves as he fucks her pretty mouth, thrills to her retching, writhing under him. His sweaty, stinking balls slap her chin, his knees grinding into her upper arms, trapping her beneath him. His flabby belly smacks her face, making a satisfying slapping noise as he rides her mercilessly, enjoying her struggles almost as much as the sick spasming of her throat. He smiles at the sound of her feet drumming the stained bedding, her throat gurgling, small, pathetic whines escaping her nose. With a sharp cry, he thrusts forward, holds, impaling her throat, pinning her to the bed as his cock swells, jerks, begins spitting forth wave after wave of thick, sour cum into her throat, her belly. He feels her belly tighten under him, moans at the thought of filling that little belly, seeing it tight, swollen. His hips buck unevenly, he pulls out, splatters the last of his dirty spunk on her crying face, leaving a long, looping glob on her cheek. He looks down, watches it trail to her puffy, bruised lips. He grasps his cock, rubs it across her face, spreading his jizz, running it across her lips. "Do you like that, Kierra? Isn't that tasty?" He laughs at her breathless sobs, shakes her head by the hair before heaving himself off her. Kierra groans, panting, whining as her bruised arms rise up, cover her face. Her belly heaves, she retches dryly, unable to bring the sour load back up. Her pretty mouth, swollen, bruised, curves into a miserable frown, the taste so terrible. She can still smell his filth, the sweat from his balls on her face. She moans miserably, wishing she was home, that she'd never left. She begins to cry again, knowing that now her family will hate her. Moaning, she pushes herself up, stands unsteadily, ashamed at the way he looks at her, smiles. "Where do you think you're going, Kierra?" His voice is hard, dangerous, at odds with his lazy smile. "I-I have to pee?" Her voice is so small, cracking, barely more than a whisper. She moves slowly, painfully across the room, limping miserably, her arms crossed over her belly, hugging herself as she shuffles into the dark, dank bathroom. She sits on the toilet with a moan, then whines as the acidic urine passes over her torn flesh. She gasps, whimpers as he lumbers in, his half erect cock in one hand, a pint of beer in the other. "I need to pee, too." He laughs, his voice high, mocking her. He moves forward with surprising speed, grabs her hair, jerking her head forward even as he presses her back against the cold tank of the toilet. Shoving his cock into her mouth, he lets loose a hot, musky stream of urine, pressing against the back of her head, howling as she gags, chokes, begins swallowing helplessly. His piss bubbles out her nose, trickles down her chest as she gulps again and again. He moans as his stream finally peters out. "Nothing like a long morning piss to let a man know he's still alive." He laughs, drags her off the toilet, slams her to her knees on the gritty tile floor. "Did you like that, Kierra? Are you full yet? I don't think so." He whirls her around, kneeling behind her, begins rubbing his stiffening cock between her ass cheeks. "No, I don't think you're anywhere near full." Pushing her face into the moldering, piss filled toilet, he reaches around with one hand, begins twisting her tiny nipples, savoring the sound of her hoarse whining. He guzzles his beer, dry humping her pretty ass as her face is pushed down into the foul toilet, her face splashing with each obscene thrust along her crack. He sucks down the last, laughing as he sets the bottle on her back. "Hmmm, a table. A fuck toy. I do love multi-functional furniture." He grins, looks down. "Oh, look, my cock his hard again-oh, I'm sorry-my THING." Laughing breathlessly, he presses his tool against her tiny asshole, sweeping the empty bottle to the floor. She squeals, grunts as he shoves harder, her small hips jerking, twitching against him. "You sound like a pig," he gasps, "piggies belong in the slop." He grasps her hair, shoves her face deep into the dirty toilet, thrusting hard as she begins to twist, buck, the small, the dark room filled with the sounds of her gagging, sputtering. With a hoarse shout, he begins to ride her tight ass hard, slamming her forward against the stained porcelain, feeling the jarring thud as her narrow hips crash into the hard surface again and again. He feels his balls tighten, pulls back, withdraws from her torn ass, pulls her back to laugh at her soaked, smelly face, the way the pissy water turns her hair to tired ringlets. Twisting her around, he forces her head back so her hair is trailing in the toilet, then sits down heavily, his meaty thighs straddling her slender shoulders. He shoves his now rigid, bloody cock into her mouth, begins fucking down, thrusting deeply as he feels her writhing helplessly under him. He comes in less than a minute, sending another thick, sour load down her throat. He sighs as she gags, sputters, knows that she can't help but swallow. He holds, makes sure she takes every drop before rising ponderously, dragging her to her knees before him. He considers her gasping, moaning face, then gives her a broad grin. "I swear, that beer just goes right through me." He opens her mouth easily, pushes to the back of her upturned face, then lets loose another long, hot stream of urine. She sputters, swallows stupidly, her eyes dull, glassy, jerking weakly from side to side as he uses her once again as his personal urinal. "Multi-functional," he laughs, shaking his dick off over her lips, getting the last drops out. He grins, thrusts her to the floor, lays down on top of her, smiling as she whines, squirms under him, his hips jerking, cock already half stiff again. "Well, get up, stupid." He kicks at her, laughs as she flinches, shrinks away. "Ohhh, what's the matter, aren't we friends anymore?" He grabs her by the hair, pulls her up from her fetal position on the cold tile floor. "Get dressed, you dumb pig, I'm taking you home." Kierra's eyes drag jerkily to his face, her hands clenched over her hot, tight belly. All day and night he's used her face, to fuck it, to piss down her throat. Fucked her raw, stretched pussy with an empty beer bottle as he fucked her mouth, then filled her belly with cum, piss. Fucked her more times than she can count, always pulling out to force his spewing dick down her throat. Over and over, even forcing her to squat over the empty container, then lower herself, impaling her own ass with the thick brown bottle. She moans, her jaw too sore, her lips and tongue too swollen to speak. She shakes her head, whines as he jerks her, swaying, to her feet. "What, you don't want to go home? You don't want to tell your mommy how that bottle got up your bottom?" He coughs, pulls her behind him, laughing at the way her little hips strain, her legs stutter along, making allowance for the bottle still in her bowels. He looks approvingly at her belly, so full, tight, poking out painfully before her. "Well, I'll tell you what, cow-since your parents aren't ever going to love you again, I guess I could let you come with me so you don't have to show them that bottle stuck up your butt." He almost bursts out laughing at her pathetic whimper, her sickly grateful expression. "Now get over here, I have to pee." He nods, smiles as she drops to her bruised knees, opens her aching jaw to accept his cock. He pulls his massive belly to the side, watches her puffy, swollen lips wrap around him. He moans, tilting his beefy hips forward, pushing on the back of her head before releasing his full bladder, sending his hot, sour piss down her swollen throat. "Don't you puke, stupid," he admonishes, cuffing her sharply on the temple. "Mmmm, that's right, piggy whore, drink it all, be a good toilet." Climbing into the car with a grunt, he watches her slow, agonized progress across the empty parking lot. Small, mincing, hobbled steps, her pretty ass pushed back at a peculiar angle, her legs turned in slightly, accommodating the bottle. He'll have to get that thing out of her eventually, he knows-if she lives long enough to make it worth the hassle. He wonders if she's old enough to get pregnant, smiles. That might be worth digging the bottle out of her asshole. She climbs in gingerly, scooting her hips to one side, trying to ease her pain. He snaps his fingers, smacks her, points to the seat, indicating she should lay belly down on the seat, her face in his lap. He grunts, shifts, pulls his belt out, loops it around her neck in a leash. He pulls up sharply, nods at her pathetic whine. Knotting the belt to the steering column, he smacks her again, pushes her face down to his cock. She looks up, her eyes dull, still stunned. He moans at her puffy, swollen lips, so pretty, red and purple, sighs as they envelope his cock. He closes his eyes, pictures her bent back over the toilet, her mouth open, eyes tear-filled. He can hardly wait until he has to shit. Whistling a jaunty tune, he pulls out onto the quiet highway, one hand on the wheel, the other tangled in her dirty hair, jerking her head up and down as they cruise toward the morning sun. "Even the stupidest animal can be trained," he murmurs, as much to himself as her, "even a stupid little piggy like you." He smiles, totally content, knows it doesn't matter if she lives or dies. Either way, his life is good. Excellent.
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