For Bobbi, it began when she was five. Lance Grayson was an important investor for her father's business ventures. And if her parents suspected where Mr. Grayson's fingers wandered during the times he had the girl to himself, well, she was benefiting, too, from her father's success.
When she was eight, it was easier for her parents to be disappointed in her childish behavior when she came home in tears and with bloodstains among the sticky residue on her panties. Through their displeasure, they made it plain that any trouble she might have gotten into was likely of her own doing and she should be grateful for those who help maintain the family's very comfortable lifestyle. After all, her older brother and sister didn't mind.
At twelve, Bobbi had another complication and it was slowly growing inside of her. Her parents had no tolerance for wild accusations from her and had made arrangements for Bobbi's problem to be dealt with discreetly.
For reasons Bobbi was at a loss to explain even to herself, she suddenly grew very protective of the life inside of her. It didn't matter who the father was because now it was hers. And hers to protect. For over seven years, Bobbi had no one to protect her but now she was fiercely determined to preserve this precious burden.
One bus ticket later, she was on her own in a big city with no idea of what to do next. She had to eat and another gift that Mr. Grayson had left her was the knowledge of how to earn some money. And there were plenty eager to partake of her barely ripening body. Other working women were on guard for anyone encroaching on their territory but it her salvation in finding work came through Amazing Grace.
With a big bust and even bigger blonde hair, Grace, or "Amazing Grace" as she preferred to be known, had her own block. Taking an instant liking to the girl, Grace took her under her wing. Bobbi thought there was something odd about Grace but never mentioned anything for fear of losing her only friend.
One afternoon, Grace was having Bobbi try on some new skimpy outfits purchased from a dance catalog. Bobbi remembered her mother commenting to her friends about some of the highly questionable music, costumes, and dance routines that little girls were doing in competition. There had been a news story about it and her mother made it clear of what she thought of the morals of those girls. As her mother's friends righteously agreed, Bobbi wondered where the line between suggestive dancing and pimping a daughter came to play. She had been tempted to ask her mother in front of her friends but had lacked the nerve at the time.
As Bobbi tugged the waistband of the micro skirt into place, she fretted about the tightness.
"Oh Honey, you're starting to show and there's nothing that can be done about it," Grace sighed. "You must be in your second trimester. We should really get you to a clinic."
"No! They'll ask question and they'll know I'm too young," Bobbi protested. "Do you think I could pass for eighteen?"
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Changes last made on: Monday, February 06, 2017