I was on the road outside my ranch in Montana when I saw her and her mother hitch-hiking. They were way off the main road and that nobody would pick her up here. The mother laughed weakly and replied that she hadn’t seen a car for hours. Cori remained silent, just studying me in that way that toddlers do.

It was fast approaching dark, and even in the summer the nights up here are cold. The mother didn’t look well and Cori wasn’t dressed for a night outside. So, being a nice guy, I took them in for the night. I had them take baths while I prepared supper. Cori’s mom wanted to wash and dry, but I insisted that she was my guest and sent her and Cori to the TV room with sodas.

After Cori had gone up to bed in the guest room, her mom came on to me. She said, “I gotta pay for my supper, you know?”. I declined. I’m into women and all, and it wasn’t that she wasn’t good looking and all, but something about her just didn’t seem right. She frowned and hung her head a bit as she went up to join her daughter.

That night, Cori’s mother died. I found her in the morning, sitting on the floor of the upstairs bathroom. She was leaning against the wall and had a syringe stuck in her arm. I’m a private man, not taking to much to others, so rather than face the bother of having police and the coroner crawling all over my place, I took her mothers body, sewed it in an old sheet and dropped it into an old, dry well in the woods on the north edge of my property.

On the way back I wondered what to do with Cori. She was only four or five years old, pretty with long brown hair down to her waistline that her mother kept as neat as possible considering their situation. It was cut in front in a style that reminded me of the 50’s pin-up Bette Page. She had full lips, tiny nose, and the largest, deepest brown eyes that you’ve ever seen. Her body was a little plump, she still had “baby fat”. She didn’t look fat, mind you. Everything was proportional, she just didn’t look skinny like many girls do.

When I got back from the woods she was waiting for me in the front hallway. She didn’t say anything when I told her that her mother had died, she just shrugged and looked at me as if to say, “Now what?” Somehow, given her circumstances, I wasn’t surprised at all. I’d seen lots of homeless kids on the streets of New York City and they all had similar looks in their eyes. Then suddenly she smiled and I new right then and there that I was going to keep her and raise her as my own.

I didn’t have any clothes that would fit her, being a very large man. Not fat, mind you, just large. She had only one set of clothing, jeans shorts and a white halter top that wasn’t white anymore. She wore threadbare canvas boat shoes that were missing the laces. Everything was filthy and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to clean it. I thought about giving her one of my Tee-shirts, but she would fall out the neck hole. Then I remembered the halter top. I had a live-in girlfriend for a while in the City and when she moved out she left it behind. It was red satin and I remember it being very tight on her. I dug it out.

“Cori,” I said as I found her in front of the television. “I want you to take off all of your clothes and your shoes, put them in this trash bag and then take a bath. Hanging in the bathroom is something for you to wear. It isn’t much but it is all I have right now, Okay?”

She nodded and got up, her eyes reluctant to leave the screen. She took the trash bag from me and trudged up the stairs. I heard the door close on the upstairs bathroom. I heard water running for a moment and went up stairs to find the trash bag lying beside the door. I checked and she had put all three articles of clothing into the bag, adding a set of panties that looked yellow, though they had roses on them so they must have been white at one time. I took them out into the woods and dropped them down the well.

It took her about an hour to scrub herself clean and dry herself before dressing and coming down the stairs. She had put her hair up in pigtails, using elastic thingies I used to use when I wore my hair in a pony tail. She must have had lip-gloss in the pocket of her shorts because her lips shone. The halter top was just the right size, the top was low, almost showing her nippies, and the bottom was short, barely past her butt, but overall it fit well. She grinned from ear to ear and showed off her new “dress” proudly. She told me that she had never owned a dress before. I resolved that she would always wear dresses.

I made us a large breakfast and she must have been famished. She matched me forkful for forkful. She insisted on doing the dishes and stood on a step-stool. I had to go into the other room because every time she bent over the sink her dress would ride up and expose her in a way that embarrassed me.

I let her wear a pair of my beach sandals. She looked like she was walking in snow shoes. She followed me around the place all day. I raise figs for butter and goats for cheese to supplement my savings. She would ask question after question, calling me “Mister”. I answered each one. It felt good to have a kid around, especially one as cute as this one. I felt like a Dad. I even broke out one of my digital cameras and got her to pose for me. I hadn’t photographed a human being since…well, I didn’t want to think about it. I just had fun.

After a light supper and some television, I sent Cori up to bed. She sat on my lap to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a nice man Mister,” she whispered.

Later I went upstairs to my room to get something and was surprised to find her lying on my bed, on top of the covers. She had taken off the dress and set it aside carefully, so she was buck naked. She was curled up comfortably her head on my pillow. Her eyes were closed but I knew that she must have been awake. I’m a very quiet man when I move around and I knew that I didn’t make any noise that would have caused her to wake. With a soft moan and a sigh she rolled over onto her back and spread her legs. I didn’t mean to stare, but this was probably the strangest thing that has ever happened to me and I wasn’t quite sure what to do. She peeked out of one eye and when she saw that I hadn’t stepped into the room she sat up. She gave me a hard look and said, “I gotta pay for my supper.” That was too weird and I fled down the stairs.

Cori found me sitting in my recliner with my head in my hands. She walked right up and stood in front of me and gently took my hands away from my face. She had put on her dress and looked worried. “Did I do something wrong, Mister?”

I looked at her for a long moment. “What happened up there?”

“When you sent me to bed I thought you wanted to have sex with me.”

I was shocked. “What gave you that idea?”

“All of my mom’s boyfriends had sex with me.”

I though about reminding her that I wasn’t her mother’s boyfriend, that she was dead, but instead I said, “Cori, you’re a very pretty girl. I just don’t see you that way.”

She stared at my face for a few minutes as if trying to see something there. At first there was disappointment written on her face, but that was replaced by surprise and then a grin. “You don’t want me to have sex with you. That means that you want me around here for me. Because you like me.”

It wasn’t a question but I said, “Yes.”

She propelled herself into my lap, her arms wrapped around my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist. She kissed me soundly on the lips. “I love you Mister.”, she said. I was surprised to find my voice saying “I love you too, sweetheart.” She smiled and rested her head on my shoulder and as I carried her up the stairs to bed she said, “Cause you love me Mister and I love you, you can have sex with me anytime your ready. Until then I’ll do anything you want, ‘cause you’ll be my daddy.” She put her hand on my cheek and pulled until our eyes met. “Anything, Daddy.”

I was a little shaken and hurriedly tucked her into bed before leaving the room as fast as my feet could take me. I’ve been around the block a few times, but had never been propositioned by someone so…tiny. And it was done out of pure innocence, a need to be wanted and loved.

To calm down I put Bach’s fourth concerto on the stereo and reclined in my chair. My thoughts wandered back to the girlfriend who unknowingly donated Cori’s dress. Which led me to recall my days as a photographer. I was one of the top rated BDSM photographer in New York until I photographed the wrong man’s 18 year old daughter. Well, her drivers license had said she was 18. I had to get out of town fast. I still have all of my toys and stuff, as well as my digital cameras, including an expensive video set up using six cameras. It was all up in the attic of the house, actually the third floor, it was unfinished when I bought the place and I renovated it into a soundproof studio thinking that I might want to dabble again. I was thinking that I should have kept my collection of costumes and that reminded me that Cori, my Cori, didn’t have any clothing to wear.

I got up and went into my office. Sitting in front of the computer I got online intending to find some site that sold children’s clothing…little girl’s dresses, I reminded myself. For a moment I thought about Cori dressed in a cute pink easter dress with white tights and patent pumps, her hair in pigtails tied by white ribbons. I remembered a site where I could buy the entire outfit. That image was quickly replaced by an image of her wearing a tight rubber French maid’s outfit complete with rubber stockings, rubber gloves, ballet heels, and a rubber hood with a penis gag inside her mouth. I saw her big brown eyes staring out from the eyeholes, though she couldn’t see anything as I had put contacts into her eyes that were opaque. I pictured her cunnie and nippies red from the combination of athletic cream and itching powder that I had spread there. I heard her whimpering as she tried to twist her wrists free from the wire that was wrapped around them and then hooked to a chai n leading to the ceiling.

It was such a powerful image that I actually thrust myself away from the computer. My chair struck the bookcase on the other side of the room, knocking books and files everywhere.

I caught my breath and formed my resolve. I wheeled my chair back to the computer and sent an email off to a friend who also lived in Montana.

It took a good three hours to clean up my mess and put my files back in order. I couldn’t help but see that image of Cori. It was like it was burned into my brain. My computer beeped and I knew without looking that my friend had emailed me back.

I opened the file. My friend owned a company that ran a site that catered to a particular fetish or “area of interest” depending on the person involved. Last year the Supreme Court had ruled that it was no longer to illegal to portray minors tied up and/or in peril provided that 1) the minor wasn’t actually harmed, 2) that there was parental or guardian consent involved, and 3) that there was no sex portrayed in the photographs, though “pretend” sex was okay. I had sent my friend several of the photographs I had taken of Cori that day and asked him if he would be interested in more. He sent me a very long wish list of scenarios, all of them involving some form of bondage and servitude. He offered me a rather large sum of cash for each set, with a large bonus for any video that I put together along the way.

As I surfed the net to find the stuff that I would need to fulfill the list, I thought to myself, “She did say ANYTHING.”

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