If you're here because you persecute authors and censor literature for career advancement purposes then keep out of my pages. These are my pages and you're trespassing.
The story starts when I was eight. My great-grandpappy, of whom I had no prior memories before that day, was on his death bed, dying from terminal cancer. He asked to see all his living relatives before he died, some considerable number so it had to be over several days, and since it was rumored he had a substantial fortune to bequeath, my Pa dragged me to the hospital with the rest of our family.
Great-grandpappy had a private room. The smell of disinfectant employed to mask the smells of bodily malfunctions was overpowering. It was boring, sitting in the room while my family sucked up to a very sick very old man attached to lots of tubes and measuring devices, and my attention drifted to the nurse who was constantly bustling around. She was a very fat Negress with a gigantic ass, and I couldn't help staring at it as she busied around the room, not knowing whether to laugh at her comic waddling or pity her for the obvious impediment that her weight caused her.
Suddenly Great-grandpappy pointed at me and wheezed: "Everyone leave now. I want a few moments alone with the kid."
Reluctantly the rest of my family got up and went outside.
"You too, Bertha," he instructed the nurse.
"You know I'm not allowed to leave you," she protested.
"Leave, Bertha."
The first instruction was coached as a request, but the latter was clearly an order. Great-grandpappy did something with his hands as he spoke, Bertha's resistance evaporated and she left the room, leaving just the two of us.
"Come stand next to me, boy," Great-grandpappy ordered in his wheezing croak, not even knowing my name.
I really didn't want to, but I knew that if I disobeyed him and he told my Pa, I'd get a beating.
"I've seen best part of a hundred kinsfolk in the past week without a single set of balls between them until I saw you eyeing up Bertha's ass. How old are you boy, ten?"
I didn't correct him.
"She's all woman, and I wish I was still able to get a piece of her. I think you've proved you're the fitting recipient for my greatest treasure."
Great-grandpappy pulled a ring off his emaciated finger and held it to me. It didn't look valuable, just a plain band, clearly not gold or silver. I took the ring.
"Put it on your finger. When you give a woman an order, twist the ring and she'll have no choice but to obey you."
I didn't want to put the ring on because it was coming from an unhygienic, dying man and who knows what I might catch from it, but fearful of the consequences of disobedience I reluctantly slid it on. Although Great-grandpappy was emaciated, his fingers were still larger than mine and I expected the ring to be loose, but actually it was a good fit and felt very comfortable.
"I'm tired. Go now and take your bloodsucking relatives with you."
I left the room and told my family that Great-grandpappy was tired and wanted to rest. Seeing any possibility of a fortune rapidly disappearing, Pa tried to get back into the room to suck up to Great-grandpappy again, but Bertha wouldn't let him.
On the journey home, my family gave me the third degree about what Great-grandpappy wanted alone with me. For some reason I didn't tell them about the cheap knick-knack he had given me or the absurd claims he'd made about it. After all, he was gravely ill and rambling so he probably didn't know what he was saying. I just said he wished me luck in my future life.
(I subsequently heard that Great-grandpappy passed away that night and left the whole of a relatively meagre estate entirely to Bertha.)
For some reason I never took the ring off. I convinced myself it was because I couldn't be bothered since it felt so light and comfortable. Nobody seemed to notice me wearing it, even though all jewelry was officially banned at school.
Nothing more of relevance happened until I was in my mid teens. Our English teacher was Mrs. Simmons, an inoffensive middle-aged woman with a huge bosom. We kids quickly realised that however much we played up in class, only one of us would get detention. We devised a game we called detention roulette whereby we acted up to see who the unlucky sacrifice would be, then after a detention was handed out the rest of us knew that it was safe to ignore her for the rest of that lesson.
Ironically, that day I had arranged to hang out with a group of friends straight after school so I really wanted to avoid detention. I was probably the only person in class, apart from a couple of goody-two-shoes, who wasn't misbehaving. And yet I was the one picked out to spend an hour in Mrs. Simmons' company after school.
Mrs. Simmons was writing a script for the end-of-term school play. My punishment was to spend an hour test-reading the dialog with her. In retrospect it probably wasn't a bad effort on her part, borrowing heavily from Shakespeare and fairy tales, but to someone of my age desperate to escape to hang out with my mates it was extremely corny.
We started near the middle of the play. Presumably previous detention servers had road-tested the earlier dialog. We soon got to a part where the character whose lines I was reading revealed herself to be not only a woman but a princess. I was supposed to read the line: "I am a Princess of the Realm and I command you to release me," (provoking much hilarity amongst her captors, according to the script). Instead I said: "I am a Princess of the Realm," then for some reason I twisted Great-grandpappy's ring while following up with: "I command you to release me."
Mrs. Simmons looked disconcerted for a moment then said: "That will be all, you can go now."
I looked at my watch: only fifteen minutes into the hour's detention. Great-grandpappy's ring actually worked! In one moment of juvenile misjudgment I then nearly sabotaged my whole future because of the compulsion to try it again.
"Rub your breasts," I ordered, twisting the ring once more.
Mrs. Simmons rubbed her massive mammaries, causing them to jiggle up and down violently. After a couple of minutes she got quite red in the face. It dawned on me that she might go on rubbing her breasts forever unless I told her to stop.
"Enough," I commanded, twisting the ring.
Mrs. Simmons allowed her hands some much needed rest. She was red in the face and quite flustered.
"Oh my," she exclaimed with a shocked look on her face, "how did you make me do that?"
Fortunately I was quick on the uptake again.
"I order you to forget what just happened," I commanded, twisting the ring again.
Again Mrs. Simmons looked disconcerted.
"Are you still here?" she said, peering at me over the top of her reading glasses. "I don't feel well so I'm going to the staff common-room. Run along now."
And run along I did, my heart pounding as I realised how narrowly I had avoided catastrophe by my quick thinking in ordering Mrs. Simmons to forget.
Over the next few years I learned many more lessons in how to exploit the ring without detection, leading a charmed life at times by narrowly avoiding disasters through a combination of luck and quick thinking.
That brings me more-or-less up-to-date. Perhaps the best way to explain what has become of me is to relate the events of this afternoon.
I was in a neighboring town where I was confident nobody knew me. One of my cardinal rules is not to shit in my own backyard, so to speak. I was in the large shopping mall and, being Saturday, it was packed with teenagers. I kept a careful eye out for suitable prospects, making sure to avoid the gaze of security guards and CCTV.
Suddenly I saw her. There was a group of about ten girls, aged about sixteen, identikit vacuous bleached blondes. She was obviously the younger sister of one of the blondes, following them reluctantly, her Goth looks making her stand out like a sore thumb: black t-shirt, black skirt, black hair and a pretty face besmirched by black eye-shadow and black lipstick. She looked about thirteen or fourteen, the perfect age, old enough for her sexual equipment to be functional yet with the immature narrow hips that meant she would have a really tight cunt. As a bonus, more often than not girls of her age are still virgin so there's no worry about the hygiene of whoever's been there before me.
The girls went into a music store and I followed. The blondes headed for the anodyne boy-band section but the Goth headed for the heavy-metal section. Great, she was on her own for a few moments. I snuck up behind her unnoticed as she thumbed through the racks of CDs. Then, from a few inches away, I whispered into her ear while twisting the ring: "Tell the others you're going to the restroom and meet me in ten minutes in the service yard."
The service yard is where trucks make their deliveries. Trucks are not allowed to deliver during prime shopping hours because the access roads become pedestrian-only. So even though the mall was packed, only a few yards away the service yard was completely deserted. The service yard CCTV cameras are all concentrated on the vehicular entrances so what happens in the service yard itself is not recorded.
I slipped out of the mall, carefully avoiding the CCTV cameras. Anyway, should anything go wrong there must be a hundred guys in the mall who resembled me physically and wore similar clothes, and the authorities would surely have no chance of tracing me based on appearance.
The girl appeared in the service yard, looking confused.
"Why am I here? What do you want from me?"
If she had noticed the bulge in my pants she would have known without asking.
"Don't move and don't speak or scream. Stand here facing the wall, bend over and lean against the wall to support yourself," I ordered, twisting the ring.
The girl positioned herself as instructed and stood there motionless, leaning against the wall and supporting herself with her arms. I grabbed the waistband of her skirt and tugged it upwards until her panty clad crotch was accessible. She was wearing plain white cotton little-girl panties, so she obviously wasn't old enough to do all her own shopping. I crudely pushed the gusset aside, exposing her very pretty cunt framed by just a few coarse hairs, with no towel or tampon.
I trailed my fingers along her slit, causing the girl to flinch. When I pushed a finger inside her stone dry cunt she yelped involuntarily. She yelped again when the tip of my finger hit her hymen. A virgin, I had chosen well.
Standing behind the girl I wrapped my arms around her waist and rested the bulge caused by my rock-hard cock in the crevice between her buns. I slid my hands up inside the front of her black t-shirt. Her stomach was warm and smooth, ceding way to the gentle undulations of her ribcage, then the soft cotton of her bra.
"While I pinch your nipples you will orgasm," I instructed the girl while twisting the ring.
My hands continued their upwards journey, forcing their way underneath the girl's bra until I had a tiny golfball-sized breast in each hand. The feeling of a young breast is so unique and sensual, firm and taut and yet soft and malleable. I squeezed the breasts hard, pushing and pulling them into unnatural shapes, causing the girl to wince. Then I pinched the girl's nipples and felt her body quake with orgasm.
After a few seconds I released the girl's nipples, leaving her panting as she recovered from the orgasm. I withdrew my hands, leaving her bra and t-shirt in disarray. I tested her cunt again with a finger and found it was now nice and slimy.
I unzipped my pants and with some difficulty fished out my rock-hard cock. I ran it to-and-fro along her slit a few times until it was slick with her juices. I lined up the head with the girl's cunt and thrust in hard. She gave a little squeal as I burst through her hymen, then I pushed in as far as I could, until the head of my cock hit her cervix, causing another yelp. Inside she was velvety and hot and oh so tight as only a young teen can be, something every man ought to experience at least once in his life.
I fucked the girl slowly and deliberately at first, wanting to stretch both the experience and the girl's immature cunt. Gradually I built up speed until I was fucking her hard and fast, balls deep. I felt my groin start to tighten and knew that I would not last much longer. I pulled out almost all the way.
"When I touch your clit you will orgasm, the hardest orgasm of your life, and you will continue to orgasm until I pull out," I instructed the girl while twisting the ring.
I thrust in hard until I was pressing against the girl's cervix, then groping underneath her I felt out her hard little clit. As soon as I touched her little button, the girl spasmed violently with orgasm, letting out a quiet keening sound as her whole body seemed to pulse and throb around my cock. My sperm seemed to boil in my balls, and I resumed fucking the girl hard and fast as gobs of it coursed up my urethra. Six mighty spurts forced their way through my tubes and into the girl's cunt, one of my strongest ejaculations ever, encouraged by the milking of the girl's pulsating cunt muscles. Even after my initial climax my cock stayed hard and produced the occasional dry throb as the girl's continuing orgasm tried to milk me for more.
I must have continued fucking the girl like that for five minutes, with her orgasming the whole time, until my balls were completely empty and my dry throbs were more tiring than pleasurable. I pulled out my cock and squeezed the girl's cunt lips together to keep my sperm trapped inside, then slipped the thick panty gusset back over her cunt to absorb any sperm which might seep out so that it wouldn't trickle down her thighs. Exhausted, the girl sank to her knees, panting hard.
"Turn around and clean my cock with your mouth," I ordered while twisting the ring.
The girl turned around; her face was flushed and streaked with trails of sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead. Young girls look so beautiful after a good fucking. The girl dutifully licked and sucked my cock clean of her blood and juices, but even though she had a very sweet mouth and capable tongue my sated cock stayed resolutely flaccid. When the girl had finished cleaning me up to my satisfaction, even though it was still slightly damp with her saliva, I stowed my cock inside my pants and zipped up.
The girl looked up at me with a desperate, beseeching look in her eyes. Although every muscle in her bruised and battered immature cunt must have been aching after orgasming hard for over five solid minutes, I knew from experience that if she could have spoken she would have been begging me for another meeting for a repeat of the greatest orgasm of her life. While she had been a fantastic fuck and I would have loved a second encounter to take the virginity of the cute little puckered hole between her narrow little boyish buns, another of my cardinal rules is never to sample the same wares twice.
"You will wait two minutes then return to your friends. You will tell them you felt unwell so spent longer in the restroom than you intended, but you're fine now. You will forget everything we did, and if your cunt feels icky you will not try to wash it because you must keep my sperm inside you for at least a week," I instructed, while twisting the ring.
Although I wasn't overjoyed by the prospect of them being raised by single mothers, I quite liked the idea of lots of little mes running round. I knew that girls of my targeted age would probably have erratic periods and low fertility, but that didn't mean I couldn't give them every chance.
Taking advantage of my two minute head start, I slipped back into the crowded mall.
I sometimes wonder whether my Great-grandpappy would have approved of the way I use his inheritance.
If you have any thoughts or comments on the story on this web page I'd like to read them. Suitable comments will be added to the site but may be edited for size or to preserve your anonymity.