Heather Brown - The rape girls

"Not too much, though," Kimberly said, looking at Jennifer.

"What are you getting at, Kimberly? Why are you looking at me like that?" Jennifer wanted to know.

Kimberly continued looking at Jennifer, gazing at her youthful face and figure.

"Oh, no… oh, no, Kimberly," Jennifer stammered. "Not me… you don't expect me to…"

"Who else?" Kimberly said. "Mayor Staley is a perfect target for what we have in mind, and if he likes young girls, who's the youngest one we've got?"

"Well, I am, but…"

"But what?" Kimberly said. "Somebody's got to be the bait. Anyway, don't worry, we'll all be there. We'll be there when it counts. Right, girls?"

Kitty and Gilda voiced their support, Gilda adding, "I know it sounds repulsive, Jennifer, but we've all got to make sacrifices if we're going to accomplish anything. Sure, it's tough, but if you think about it, it's no more disgusting than what you were doing every night at The Blue Room – except that you'll only have to do it once for a few minutes and something good will come out of it. We'll all be there."

"Well, when you put it that way, I guess you're right," Jennifer said. "Okay, I'll do it."

"Great," Kimberly said. "Now, Kitty, can you use some of your contacts to get Jennifer and his honor together?"

"Right on."

"Then, only one thing remains if Jennifer is going to play the part to the hilt," Kimberly said. "What's that?" Gilda asked.

"We're going to have to shave her pussy."

Now that the idea of shaving the hair from her pussy had been suggested, Jennifer started to wonder expectantly what her cunt was going to look like.

The others quickly noticed that Jennifer was aroused when they lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties in preparation for the shaving. A blob of sticky foam bubbled out from between her pussy lips and drooled down the crevice of her cunt, prompting Kitty to call to Kimberly who was in the bathroom getting the shaving equipment, "If you don't shake your ass, Kimberly, you won't need any of that lather. No need for hot lather when she's already made herself this hot."

Kimberly returned to the room with the razor and a mug of frothy soap, laughing. "Oh, no," she said, "the lather's half the fun. Makes your pussy look like an ice-cream sundae – good enough to eat. Only no nuts."

The others, including Jennifer, laughed as Kimberly slowly and deliciously spread the warm, moist lather around the lips of Jennifer's pussy.

If anyone had suggested to Jennifer before that she shave her cunt, she would have been horrified by the idea. Now, with the new perspective she had developed concerning her body, and especially her cunt, she was looking forward to the shearing as something that would enhance her femininity. After the hair was gone, there would be nothing to conceal the beauty of her pussy.

When Kimberly started shaving, the strokes of the razor sent a sensation of maddening friction throbbing through Jennifer's loins as the blade glided over the sensitive skin surrounding her cunt. Jennifer couldn't control the sticky turmoil inside her cunt, and her pussy lips weren't able to restrain a steady, gooey discharge that bubbled out between them and mixed with the shaving cream.

When Kimberly had finished, Jennifer looked down at her bare cunt, rubbing her hand softly over the mound that had been covered with hair. She placed her forefinger on the crevice of her cunt, between her damp pussy lips, able to feel the throbbing heat emitting from the pink, sticky flesh inside. As she felt her cunt, and looked proudly down at it, she felt a wave of pleasure that reminded her of the glory of being a woman.

"Listen, Murphy," the mayor said, irritation showing through the bags of fat that over the years had somehow looked like appendages on his fate. "Stop beating around the bush. There's only one thing I want to know. Is she a young one or not?"

"Sure, Mayor, sure," Murphy assured him. He was a man in his forties who tried to look younger, wearing loud clothes and turtleneck shirts, but only succeeded in looking like a perpetual tourist. He was married to one of the mayor's nieces, and was a chronic gambler who would have had his legs broken a long time ago because of the debts he had run up with the city's loan sharks except for his relation by marriage to the mayor. The city administration was as much in partnership with the mob that ran loan-sharking as it was with the construction companies that built and maintained the city streets – in fact, a lot of them were owned by the same people and when the mayor told the bait sharks to lay off Murphy, they did.

Meanwhile, to keep his niece's husband out of further trouble, the mayor gave him a job as a personal aide. The job consisted of lining up fresh pussy for the mayor's only hobby outside of politics, which was fucking young-looking girls, and Murphy had turned out to be pretty good at it, finally being successful at something.

"Okay, Murphy, I'll take your word for it," the mayor rumbled. "I guess it'll be all right, I always like new faces… and, heh, heh, other parts," he chuckled. When he laughed, he looked like a jack-o-lantern that had somehow started to melt. "I've got a meeting in a couple of hours so I'm going now to the apartment. Have her there."

"She's already waiting," Murphy assured him. The mayor hoisted himself up from his chair, and, before he left the desk, he unlocked a desk drawer and removed a brown, unmarked box.

"My equipment," the mayor said smugly without the slightest trace of self-consciousness, so insulated was he in his trappings of power that he automatically assumed that whatever he did was correct and called for, even if it was fucking young girls with a ten-inch dildo.

The limousine whisked the mayor to the secret apartment. The mayor told the driver, "Be back in an hour, and got out, waddling away from the long, black car, clutching the box under his arm."

Mayor Staley took the freight elevator to the fourth floor and walked down the hall. He stopped in front of the door to catch his breath. He was so used to having things done for him that walking even the shortest distance reduced him to a quivering, sweating mass of quaking fat.

The mayor sucked in his gut and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. When he had composed himself, he opened the door.

Mayor Staley felt rejuvenated. These sessions made him feel years younger and pounds lighter, almost imagining that he could still get his prick up, that the fearsome dildo was actually growing out of his crotch instead of strapped around his enormous waist. The mayor insisted on it just being him and the girl so that each experience was like an oasis in the middle of politics for him. Also, he didn't want any of his aides knowing what he actually did to these girls; it was just between him and the girls, and they were well paid for whatever damage he did to them. Mayor Staley had always said, "Money can buy anything," and that included, for example, the fee for plastic surgery that rebuilt a girl's breasts after he had torn off her nipples with a pair of pinking shears during one particularly intense session.

"Yoo hoo, are you in there, you little cutie?" the mayor called. With the door safely locked behind him, the mayor's usual stodgy, heavy tongued personality changed into a parody of a smitten schoolboy ready to knock off his first piece of ass.

Hearing him from the next room, Jennifer called back, "Right in here, Dicky-wicky."

Murphy had told her in advance to be sure and never call the mayor by his tide, and to sound like a little kid talking to her favorite uncle.

Mayor Staley, as much as his age and obesity would allow him, bounded into the room and took in Jennifer with a wide-eyed stare.

Jennifer was curled back at the end of a sofa, resting against the armrest with her legs tucked under her and hugging a teddy bear with a pout on her face. Her pigtails hung down to the shoulders of her white dickey blouse. Her red corduroy pinafore ended at her upper thighs. She was wearing knee-high socks with a checkered pattern and black patent-leather Mary Janes, and had a wad of bubblegum in her mouth. Underneath the pinafore and her short jumper dress, Jennifer could feel the soft, absorbent fabric of her white cotton underpants hugging the contours of her hairless crotch.