Fawn wasn't the brightest little girl but she assumed the man meant she was not supposed to have sex, as opposed to merely making a predictive statement that men wouldn't be fucking her.

She always thought of him as "the man". Even at the clerk's office he merely placed an "X" where his name went, and the magistrate called him "Sir". The staff called him "Sir" or "Master". For herself, since a girl takes a man's name after marriage, she had no name now, just "Fawn", and that wasn't even what she was born with. Five years ago she had been "Bridget Cathleen Reilly." She remembered her house near Limerick, but had trouble remembering the faces of her mother and father. It was all arranged at the kitchen table, over ale and a shiny black attaché case.

She couldn't complain. She lived in sybaritic ease in a huge mansion, with so many rooms she hadn't explored them all. Some wings were off limits. She had a pretty personal maid named Julie, who was fourteen and busily efficient.

Fawn had the red hair of the white Irish, a peaches and cream complexion, freckles, and a flat chest. Her buttocks were as small as quinces, at the beginning. Now they were handfuls, just.

Fawn loved the man and he was nice to her. He supplied her with drugs and alcohol and didn't mind her smoking. She had lots of sexy clothes. He spoiled her by letting her have any man or boy that caught her fancy and she seldom passed a day without a dozen penises spurting inside her.

One of the boys she liked sex with most was Adrian, who was her age. Adrian was Irish too. He worked as a bardash in the manse. But Adrian was splendidly equipped in the penis department and he got hard quite easily.

Adrian had been exposed to sex since he was six and seeing as many erect penises as he did kicked off his own sexual urges. Despite daily sodomizations he was essentially heterosexual and the man gave his blessing to Adrian laying with girls and women, as long as he kept himself available for other men.

Fawn fingered herself and wondered if no sex included Adrian. Technically he was not a man.

It had been hours since she'd had a cock up her cunt and Fawn smoked one cigarette after another. It was maddening! Sometimes when she got in a funk like this she hurt herself, and that made the man very angry, and he would whip her mercilessly, even burn her with a cigar.

She shrugged her shoulders to slip down her camisole and stood at the mirror looking at her chest. She knew that in a year or two she'd sprout boobs. For now she was flatter than a medieval Welshman's map of the world. Aside from her butt the only rounded part of her body was her dimpled pubis. Even that was childish. The man liked it. He told her girls are more beautiful when their love is concealed like a closed rose.

She pulled her nipples out, twisted them, let them free. They grew angry red. He did that to her sometimes. It made her feel good. She pulled them again and again. Finally they hurt too much to pull......(cont)