For Whom the Belle Tolls


                                            >The upbeat pop drums fade in, leaving you little time to prepare

                                            >As soon as that first 80s synth note hits, it's your cue

                                            >No looking back, it's now or never

                                            >You bring the microphone to your mouth, your nerves steeled

                                            >They're expecting a show, and you're going to give them one

                                            "All around me are familiar faces. Worn out places. Worn out faces. Bright and early for the daily races. Going nowhere, going nowhere."

                                            >You always preferred this version

                                            >That new slow piano cover just doesn't do it for you

                                            >It's a little too emo for your tastes

                                            >Plus, the juxtaposition of the upbeat 80s pop backing track with the somber lyrics was a major part of the artistic vision of the original

                                            "And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, that the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had."

                                            >That said, despite the relatively upbeat music, the overall tone is reserved and classy enough for the current setting

                                            "-a very very, mad world... mad world..."

                                            >The men and women in their suits and cocktail dresses seem to be unoffended by your performance, at the very least

                                            >As the song continues, you get to an instrumental break

                                            >You're not entirely sure what to do, so you elect to look around the room and lightly nod your head to the beat

                                            "And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad..."

                                            >As your performance draws to a close, you see and hear some light applause

                                            >The curtains close, and you immediately begin shaking

                                            >You take a breath to calm yourself and exit the stage

                                            >You then make your way to a seat, where a waitress attends to you almost immediately

                                            "Rye, neat, please."

                                            >She saunters off, leaving you alone in your seat

                                            >A few moments later, she returns with a drink which you gingerly sip

                                            >You were never one for these kinds of upscale establishments

                                            >The suit you wore was out of place among the designer brands adorning the men and women here

                                            >Your hair was neatly trimmed to the best of the local barber's abilities

                                            >And your mannerisms were so clearly those of an outsider that anyone here could tell at a glance

                                            >If it weren't for the manager inviting you to be part of tonight's entertainment, you'd never have been allowed to set foot in this place all the days you lived

                                            >But now you've got a taste, and Ginger Snap promised you a pretty hefty check for your appearance

                                            >The next singer should be coming up soon

                                            >Soon enough, the lights die low and the curtain opens once again

                                            >What, or rather whom, you see shocks you

                                            >The girl on stage is clearly far too young to be in an establishment like this

                                            >And not just "oh she's a bit young to hang around these folks"

                                            >Like, she's straight up a little girl

                                            >Her attire would try to have you believe otherwise, however

                                            >A jet black dress shimmering with glitter, black opaque gloves, and dark translucent stockings that disappear beneath the dress

                                            >All contrasted against her pale white skin and pastel pink and purple hair

                                            >Bloodred lipstick and dark blue eyeshadow complete the look, giving her a mature appearance far beyond her years

                                            >Behind her is a live band, a privilege which you didn't enjoy during your own performance

                                            >Three members, a guitarist, a bassist, and a drummer, in a space that was separately curtained when you were on stage

                                            >The other patrons are lightly clapping before her show even begins

                                            >You set your drink down and join in

                                            >The applause fades out as the opening crashes in

                                            >The girl prepares herself to begin

                                            >You recognize the song immediately, even though it's still far before your time

                                            >Rock's first supergroup doesn't get forgotten that easily

                                            >"In the white room, with black curtains, in the station."

                                            >This song is even more upbeat that your own choice

                                            >Then again, its age and status alone may elevate it to the level of class expected from such a gaudy room

                                            >"I'll wait, in this place where the sun never shines. Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves."

                                            >At first you thought such a young girl would have no chance of matching the song's key, but she pulls it off somehow

                                            >Plus, her voice is so melodic during the chorus, you wonder if the authors hadn't forseen her birth several decades away when they wrote it

                                            >She swings her hips side to side in a slight dance as the bridge plays

                                            >Then, she grabs the mic stand and puts her soul into the next line

                                            >"At the party, she was kindest, in the hard crowd."

                                            >She seems to be genuinely enjoying herself up there, too

                                            >You still wonder how she got in here to sing anyway, but then again the same could be said of you

                                            >"Where the shadows run from themselves."

                                            >Rather than go on with the lengthy guitar solo (though you don't doubt they could), they opt to finish after one final repetition of the bridge

                                            >The singer bows, and additional musicians enter the space, including a few brass players

                                            >Another upbeat tune plays, this one very swingy

                                            >Miss mysterious is singing before you know it

                                            >"Sometimes, I feel I've got to, run away I've got to, get away from..."

                                            >She's taken the mic from the stand is now moving more freely around the stage

                                            >For a moment you think you think you see unbridled childish joy on her face

                                            >But just as easily, through the makeup and the stage lights and the smoke and the alcohol,

                                            >It seems to be a very decidedly coy and inviting expression

                                            >"Once I ran to you, now I run from you."

                                            >She's definitely energetic and lively

                                            >"Tainted love, tainted love."

                                            >As this song too comes to a close, the singer seems to falter a bit, before bowing and exiting the stage

                                            >The band continues to play some motown and jazz style instrumentals

                                            >Minutes later, the girl from before walks her way to a seat next to yours, stumbling slightly

                                            >She plops down in the chair, and a waiter is immediately at her side with a glass of amber liquid

                                            >"Your usual, Miss Belle."

                                            >"Thanks, Jeeves."

                                            >She quickly turns to you and stage whispers "I call them all 'Jeeves'. They hate it, but deep down they think it's kind of funny."

                                            >"Quite, Miss Belle."

                                            >"Oh, get another for my friend here. I think he'll like it."

                                            >"Right away, Miss Belle."

                                            >She turns to you once again, and stares you in the eyes

                                            >Hers are somewhat wide, and her pupils seem fairly dilated

                                            >Is it just you, or is her nose red? Did she? No, it's surely just the makeup

                                            >"I'm 'Miss Belle'," she says, adopting a baritone on the 'Miss Belle' part, "but you can call me Sweetie."

                                            "Well, uh, Miss Belle, I'm Anonymous."

                                            >"I mean, that's my name: Sweetie Belle."

                                            "Ah, oh, okay. Erm, Sweetie, your performance was just, stunning."

                                            >"Thanks." she says bluntly, but smiling all the while

                                            >"You have a really nice voice."

                                            "Oh, me? Oh, it's noth- I mean, thank you. That's most kind of you."

                                            >She giggles softly and drains half her glass

                                            >"You don't have to act all stuffy with me, you know. When it's just the two of us, you can be real."

                                            >Before you can respond, the waiter returns with another glass like Sweetie Belle's

                                            >"Brandy for the sir."

                                            >You take it from him gingerly, which prompts him to scamper off

                                            "Brandy? Aren't you, you know, a bit young for this stuff?" you ask quietly

                                            >She smiles devilishly at you

                                            >"If that's your main concern with me, man, maybe you shouldn't have come here."


                                            "I see."

                                            >"I like you, Anonymous. You're alright. Say, you should definitely come to my place tonight. If you like it here, wait till you see our mansion."

                                            "Well now, age aside, it's a bit early for a classy lady like you to invite me back to your place, isn't it?"

                                            >She tsk tsks you and shakes her head

                                            >"You ~really~ have no idea what kind of place this is or why I'm here, do you?"

                                            "I... think I'm starting to get an idea."

                                            >"Well, what do you say?"

                                            "I mean, is it just doing to be us two?"

                                            >She smirks at you smugly

                                            >"I knew you had a reason to be here. Well, my dad and sister will be there, but we could definitely find a, private place, if we like."

                                            "Alright, I'm in."

                                            >"Sweet, I'll have our chauffeur take us when we finish these. We've got plenty to drink at home."

                                            "I can imagine."

                                            >The two of you sip on your brandy for a while, enjoying the music and ambience

                                            >When you've both reached the bottom of your respective glasses, the waiter returns

                                            >"Another glass for the patrons?"

                                            >"No thanks, Jeeves. We'll be leaving now."

                                            >"Thank you for your patronage."

                                            >The two of you stand up and make your way toward one of the exits

                                            >Sweetie Belle sends out some kind of message on her phone

                                            >The two of you step into an elevator which brings you to a private parking garage on the ground floor

                                            >Soon enough, a car pulls up to the two of you

                                            >An all-black Rolls Royce sedan, which even you recognize from the badge

                                            >The chrome rims and blue calipers break up the otherwise black exterior, with windows that could block out the sun from the surface of Mercury

                                            >"Pretty sweet, huh? It's an early birthday present. Once I get my license, I'll be allowed to drive it myself."

                                            "Think it's too late for your family to adopt me?"

                                            >She chuckles at you and grabs onto your arm

                                            "I don't know if father will be adopting any more children."

                                            >Interesting

                                            >A man in a suit with mirrored sunglasses, white gloves, and a facemask exits the car

                                            >You're a little apprehensive at first, but then he merely opens one of the rear doors

                                            >Sweetie steps forward and daintily lowers herself into the car from the curb

                                            >You move around the back while the mysterious driver eyes you

                                            >"He's with me, by the way, in case it wasn't clear."

                                            >He nods once and, upon you entering the car, he climbs back into the driver's seat

                                            >The interior is even more amazing, with powder blue accented by matte black

                                            >The roof is patterned with a starry sky, like you could reach up through it and grasp the night itself

                                            >It's truly breathtaking

                                            >Sweetie Belle eventually breaks the silence, pointing at the driver with her thumb

                                            >"All of our drivers are contracted through a central company. Or, it might be better to call it an organization."

                                            "Interesting dress code they have. Union approved?"

                                            >She once again laughs at your jokes, and cuddles herself up to you

                                            >"You're funny. I like that. But yeah, it's part of the arrangement. They see nothing, they hear nothing, they say nothing. They drive."

                                            "Sounds useful. What happens if they do hear, see, or speak any evil?"

                                            >"No one knows. It's never come up before."

                                            >You take a deep breath, and try to calm your shaking hands

                                            >You sang at a fancy club way too high class for you, drank brandy with a little girl, and climbed into a car with her to talk about shadow mafia chauffeurs

                                            >What a hell of a Friday night

                                            >"Do you mind if I call you Anon, for short?"

                                            "Of course, Sweetie."

                                            >She smiles at you coyly

                                            >"You know, I can tell when someone calls me 'Sweetie', because it's my name,"

                                            >She puts a hand on your thigh and begins to rub it gently

                                            >"and when they really mean it."

                                            >You return her seductive smile

                                            "Oh really?"

                                            >She drapes her other arm across your chest and pulls you down toward her

                                            >You can tell by the look in her eye what she wants

                                            >You close your eyes and meet her lips with yours, savoring the moment

                                            >Before long, you can feel her lips part as she probes yours with her tongue

                                            >You allows it to barely slip my, meeting it with your own in a gentle yet passionate dance

                                            >An eternity later , and yet all too soon, she pulls back and looks you deeply in the eyes

                                            >"Anon?"

                                            "Yes, Sweetie?"

                                            >Her passionate, seductive gaze quickly morphs into a devilish grin

                                            >"You just made out with a twelve-year-old."

                                            >

                                            >Time suddenly stops

                                            >You're pulled out of the moment and left to float helplessly in an endless void

                                            >She's right, you did do that

                                            >There may not be any turning back now, or maybe there is

                                            >Sure, making out with a little girl might be bad, and illegal, but it still might serve you to cut your losses here

                                            >You think back to your life

                                            >Living across the country from whatever family you do have, in a big city studio apartment

                                            >Struggling to pay rent and eat in the same week

                                            >Staring at the ceiling, waiting for something interesting to finally happen

                                            >Well, suffice to say it did

                                            >Might as well see where it goes, right?

                                            >You may never be able to return to your own life, but fuck it, who says you want to?

                                            >You keep your composure, your smile returns to your face

                                            "I know. And I can't wait to do it again."

                                            >"Then don't."

                                            >Once again you lock in an intimate session of oral love making with your beautiful acquaintance

                                            >After some time, she runs out of steam and puts her head against your chest

                                            >After some time, a thought forms in your head, so you decide to voice it

                                            "You know, Sweetie, I do want to ask one thing."

                                            >"Hmm?"

                                            "Why me?"

                                            >"what do you mean?"

                                            "I mean, I'm just some low class fool who was only able to set foot near that place because the manager got me a gig there doing glorified karaoke. What exactly do you see in me?"

                                            >She ponders it for a minute

                                            >"Well, first of all, I think you're really overestimating how seriously I'm taking this whole thing. I mean, I do like you, but it's not like I'm declaring my love for you or anything."

                                            "Go on."

                                            >"Don't get me wrong, I do see something in you. You're not just another toy to me. But this is all casual fun so far. At least, by my world's standards it is."

                                            "So, not a love at first sight movie romance, just two people making out in the back of a Royce 'cause what else do you do for fun on a weekend, right?"

                                            >"Exactly. As for what it is I see in you? I guess, besides being genuinely funny, you're more down to earth than most people I've met. You're more real."

                                            "Probably because I'm from the other side of the tracks, huh?"

                                            >She laughs as she strokes your chest

                                            >"Oh, Anon. There are so many sets of tracks between you and my family, you couldn't count them if you tried."

                                            "Yeah, like before, I'm starting to get an idea of that. The custom Ghost you got before you could drive it kinda tipped me off. Still can't believe I'm even sitting in this thing."

                                            >Sweetie kisses your cheek and speaks softly into your ear

                                            >"Be good, and I might get you a nice Mercedes with all the options for your next birthday."

                                            "Any chance I could get gas and insurance for it for Christmas?"

                                            >Sweetie tries to contain her laughter but fails, and actually snorts at you

                                            >"You are just the best, you know that?"

                                            >Eventually, the car pulls to a large iron gate, on which is a symbol of a capital R with vertical lines running through it, like a currency symbol

                                            >Oh jeez, these people really are the 'living in a different reality than you' kind of wealthy, huh?

                                            >The driver enters an eight-digit code on a keypad, and the gate silently swings open

                                            >As it moves down a long asphalt driveway, you see a mansion in the distance

                                            >Even calling it a mansion, is, well, an understatement

                                            >The building itself in large enough, with what appears to be three double-height floors spanning untold square feet

                                            >It's surrounded by hedges, gardens, statues, and other symbols of wealth

                                            >The car pulls around to a circular driveway in front of the main door (you know, the kind MEANT for like, commercial buildings and stuff) and stops

                                            >You exit the vehicle followed soon behind by Sweetie Belle

                                            >Once you close the door behind her, the driver pulls off on another driveway, presumably toward a garage

                                            >"So, what do you think?"

                                            "At this point, I no longer bother thinking, I just accept."

                                            >"Good. You're going to need that attitude going forward."

                                            >You step inside and are greeted by a foyer larger than your apartment, and better decorated, to boot

                                            >Sweetie leads you to a kitchen, where she retrieves a bottle from a cabinet, along with a couple of glasses

                                            >The bottle itself has a fleur-de-lis stopper, with a similar

                                            "Oh good Lord, you're gonna have us drink Louis XIII aren't you?"

                                            >"Normally, I'd settle for regular Remy, but tonight is special, don't you think?"

                                            "Oh, yes, quite." you say dryly

                                            >"I'd get the Rare Cask bottle if I could, but father literally keeps it under lock and key."

                                            "I can't imagine why. Not like it'd take me four hundred years to save up for one of those myself."

                                            >"It's not the price that's the issue. Father could fill a room with twenty-thousand-dollar brandy bottles if he wanted. It's the ra..."

                                            >She pauses for a moment, and you see her expression turn painful for a second

                                            >But she bounces back and continues on

                                            >"It's the scarcity. People think money buys everything, but it can't buy things that don't exist, or have run out."

                                            "But, barring those exceptions and intangible concepts like happiness, it can buy everything, right?"

                                            >"Yeah, pretty much."

                                            >Moving into a den, you find a seat in a luxurious leather chair next to Sweetie's

                                            >She sets the bottle and glasses onto a table and begins pouring two glasses

                                            >"Father would throw a fit if he saw me pouring this without using the spear."

                                            >"Oh come now, Sweetie, I'm not that unreasonable, am I?"

                                            >Your blood runs cold as you turn to see an older man in a tailored suit smiling down at the two of you

                                            >He's accompanied by a girl who looks to be in her early teens, wearing a fancy yet comfortable looking dress

                                            >There's no way, no way in Hell

                                            "...Filthy Rich?"

                                            >"The one and only. Welcome to the Rich estate, young man. I assume you know of my daughter, Diamond Tiara?"

                                            >"Greetings" she says with a nod, looking curiously upon you

                                            "Of course. Little Miss Kathreftia two years running? Even I've heard of her. What I didn't know was that you had another daughter."

                                            >He grimaces for a moment, lightly nodding his head

                                            >"Sweetie Belle is my adoptive daughter. She's, well, she doesn't like the limelight as much as my Diamond. It's... complicated."

                                            "I see. Very well, that's, quite alright."

                                            >"So, what brings you around here?"

                                            "Well, uh, I was performing at the Caveau Des Goutes, and I met Sweetie Belle there. We sort of hit it off, and now we're here."

                                            >You hope the buckets of sweat pouring forth from you aren't seeping through your suit into the leather, or showing on your face

                                            >You're explaining it all casually, as if to a friend and not, you know, her damn father

                                            >Hell, this would be nerve racking enough if the girl in question wasn't twelve

                                            >Without breaking his smile, he puts an arm around his daughter

                                            >"Well, since we're breaking out the Louis tonight, how about we grab a couple more glasses and talk?"

                                            "Sounds delightful."

                                            >"Diamond, fetch two more glasses for us. The crystal."

                                            >"Yes, daddy."

                                            >She turns and walks off toward the same kitchen you were in before while Filthy sits down in a nearby chair across from you and Sweetie

                                            >"So, to whom do I have the pleasure of welcoming into my estate tonight?"

                                            "My name is Anonymous. Singular name."

                                            >"I see, those are a, an unusual occurrence. From what money do you come, Anonymous?"

                                            "Well, to be honest, a lack thereof."

                                            >He chuckles and shakes his head

                                            >"There's a twelve-year-old girl next to you coming down from a coke high, pouring you brandy, with the intent of going to bed with you tonight."

                                            >He leans forward and puts his hands on his knees

                                            >"Is this the kind of world you want to step into, Anonymous? Really ask yourself. Because I'm willing to make you a deal. You can walk, right now. Scot free. Forget this all happened."

                                            >"If you want to stay, you'll enter a whole new paradigm. There'll be high expectations of you. This life doesn't come easy, and there'll be a price to pay to reap the rewards."

                                            >You think about it for a second

                                            "If I walk, can I take the bottle with me?"

                                            >"It's yours."

                                            >You once again take a moment to reflect on your life

                                            >Your boring, uneventful life

                                            >The one that no one would write a story about, and if they did, no one would read it

                                            >Struggling big city musician works a dull nine to five that kills his passion for his craft

                                            >Except there's no twist, no exciting turn of events, and no path but misery, boredom, and then death

                                            >Until there was one

                                            >You smile at Mr. Ritch and raise your glass to your lips

                                            "Just tell me who you want buried, and I'll get the shovel."

                                            >That first sip of fine liquor hits your tongue, and you know you've made the right choice

                                            >Filthy leans back in his chair and laughs

                                            >"Oh man, that's priceless."

                                            "I mean it, I'm all in."

                                            >"Oh no, I could tell that from the look in your eyes. I just wasn't expecting you to guess your first job so accurately."

                                            >Your hand stops for a slight moment as you bring your cup down to the table

                                            >"Ah, was that hesitation I saw?"

                                            >You think for a moment

                                            >Again

                                            >Okay, you were talking (internally) all big a moment ago, but he actually wants you to whack someone? As your first assignment in his little mafia?

                                            >You look up and meet his gaze once again

                                            "Oh, not at all, sir. I was just also surprised at the coincidence."

                                            >"Well then, glad to know you're on board. We can always use an extra set of hands around here."

                                            "Glad to serve, sir."

                                            >Filthy takes another slow sip of his glass while Diamond Tiara takes a long draw off of some kind of vape device

                                            >"Oh, and don't worry, you won't be killing anyone yourself this early. You'll be handling disposal."

                                            "I see. I think I can handle that."

                                            >"Hopefully. I mean, that's rookie shit. If you can't, you'll be disposed of yourself."

                                            >His glare is now menacing, and you can't help but just meet it with a smile

                                            "Well, Mister Rich, I think I'm in a pretty unique position there. Being disposed of doesn't sound so bad compared to going back to my old, boring life."

                                            >You punctuate your speech by finishing off your glass

                                            "So, no pressure. I can focus on the job, and give it my all."

                                            >Once again, Filthy goes from a serious look to a jovial expression

                                            >"Wonderful. We'll discuss that later. In any case let's change the subject for now. I hope this didn't ruin the mood between you and Sweetie Belle."

                                            "Well, nothing I can't handle. How about you, Sweetie?"

                                            >She looks up at you from her second glass of cognac

                                            >"Eh, nothing a little E can't fix."

                                            >"Want me to grab you a couple?" asks Diamond Tiara

                                            >"Nah, I'm good. I still have a few in my nightstand."

                                            >"You know Belle, it's a change of pace for you to bring in a guy under forty. any chance you might be down to share?"

                                            >"For right now, totally, as long as it's all within the rules. But don't get mad if I catch feelings for him and decide to keep him to myself down the line."

                                            >"Oh for sure."

                                            >Your serious business face cracks into a smile, then a chuckle, and finally to full out, manic laughter

                                            "You know, it's gonna take a while to get used to the sight of two little girls talking about doing drugs and fucking, right in front of their dad like it's nothing."

                                            >"Well, used to it or not, as long as you keep quiet about it, everything will work out just fine."

                                            >"Alright Anon, I've enjoyed the brandy and chat, but I think you remember what we came here for."

                                            "Right. I'll uh, if you'll excuse us, Mr. Rich."

                                            >"Of course. What do you say, Diamond, are you up for a little bonding time as well?"

                                            >"Yeah, I'm down. Let's go."

                                            >Ah, so the man also fucks his own daughter. Good to know

                                            >I mean, not like you're doing much better, but still

                                            >>37927144 (You)

                                            >Some people might find that hot, but Filthy Rich isn't the focus here

                                            >No sir, you're going to go fuck a completely unrelated child to you, like an upstanding citizen

                                            >You follow Sweetie Belle down some more hallways and up a couple flights of stairs, before reaching a door decorated in the same color scheme as her hair

                                            >"Well, this is where the magic happens." she says as she opens the door

                                            >For the most part, it looks like a standard little girl's room, just bigger and more expensive

                                            >Desk with a juiced looking desktop PC, a laptop, and a tablet with a stylus

                                            >Giant four-post bed that would take up your whole living area at home

                                            >Posters all over the wall of popular musicians

                                            >There are a few things a bit out of place, though

                                            >For one, the musicians aren't contemporary boy bands or rappers

                                            >They're old country, jazz, pop, and rock artists

                                            >Not even young pictures of them either, but mostly from when they were around their thirties to fourties

                                            >Looks like Sweetie Belle has a certain type

                                            >There's a collection off sex toys such as dildos and vibrators just lying in the open on the bed corner, some on the floor, and one on the desk

                                            >There's also apple flavored vodka bottles in various stages of emptiness staged in the various sections of the room

                                            >"Sorry about the mess, I don't let the maids clean it, and I've been in too much a slump to do it myself."

                                            "Not a problem, still somehow nicer than my apartment."

                                            >"Cool."

                                            >You follow her inside and shut the door behind yourself

                                            >Sitting down on her bed, you grab a bottle of water from the bedside minifridge (fucking rich people) and take a sip

                                            >"I gotta pee. Be right back."

                                            >She walks through another door to a private bathroom (fucking rich people) leaving you alone for the moment

                                            >You survey around the room and take note of the various other clues to her personality

                                            >A moment later, you hear a toiler flush, then a sink running, and then Sweetie rejoins you at the bed

                                            >She immediately flops down and pulls you down next to her

                                            >"So, let's start by picking up where we left off in the car."

                                            "Sounds like a plan."

                                            ***

                                            >You entwine yourself in a deep, passionate kiss

                                            >Sweetie guides your hand to push her dress up as you caress her thigh

                                            >She reaches for the buttons on your pants and undoes them with practiced ease

                                            >You raise your hips upward and allow her to shimmy your pants and underwear down

                                            >You feel her warm hand rubbing you, very quickly bringing you to full mast

                                            >Likewise, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pull them down and off

                                            >Your hand finds its way between her thighs and massages her

                                            >You stay like this, giving each other a handy while making out

                                            >Finally, she breaks the kiss, and starts to snake her way down toward your pelvis

                                            >You roll onto your back, brimming with anticipation

                                            >>Once in position, Sweetie grabs your dick and slowly licks from the base up to the tip

                                            >After a few licks, she starts playing with your tip with her tongue

                                            >You're already breathing a bit heavier as a result

                                            >Taking your head in her mouth, she runs her tongue all around it

                                            >You can't help but let out a slight moan at it

                                            >But then, she catches you off guard

                                            >Dropping herself all the way down, she takes your full length in one go

                                            >You moan audibly and buck your hips upward

                                            >This doesn't seem to phase Sweetie at all, however

                                            >Seems like she's a pro

                                            >She continues to work your shaft, quickly learning your weak spots and taking advantage of them

                                            >She stares into your eyes as she sucks you off, a look of almost innocent curiosity in her wide eyes

                                            >She smiles in her signature way, and doubles her speed

                                            >She's bobbing up and down at a rapid pace now, but still licking and sucking with all the same skill

                                            >It's not long at all before you feel an orgasm coming

                                            "Sweetie, I, ah, oh fuck."

                                            >Knowing exactly what's coming, she continues to rock your world until the very end

                                            >As you start to fire off ropes of cum into her throat, she pulls back and allows it to collect in her mouth instead

                                            >Once you're done, she shows you your semen on her tongue, swirls it around, and swallows it all in one big gulp

                                            "Holy fuck, that was amazing. Shit, kid, you know what you're doing, huh?"

                                            >She simply nods her head at you

                                            >"I had fun too."

                                            "Oh, well, uh, glad to hear it."

                                            >"Yeah, you're a little younger than my usual type, but that's okay."

                                            "I, I can relate. Anyway, you thinking about me returning the favor?"

                                            >She looks at you with a puzzled expression

                                            >"What favor? That was as fun for me as it was for you. Do you want to do something for me?"

                                            "Well, hu, yeah. I mean, I'm glad you enjoyed it too, but I think it's only right I get your rocks off too."

                                            >"Alright then."

                                            >She clims up further and further, until her hairless pussy is hovering inches above your face

                                            >"Is this what you had in mind?"

                                            >As you look up at the child cunt in front of you, and the child to whom it belongs, you resign yourself to the special Hell where people who die in Hell go

                                            "Fuck yeah. That's what I'm talking about." you say as you grab her hips and lower her down.