Between puritanism and hedonism there is a yawning gulf of ethics, moral outlook and innate fear of emotional involvement which only now in our emancipation era of the Seventies is beginning to narrow. Its existence has brought about most of the neuroticism and the sexual repression of past societies because of the hypocritical standards which grew out of both diametrically opposed codes of living. Especially for the adolescent, who usually receives his or her first erotic tutelage from the adult in charge of his development-whether it be as parent, teacher or companion-the paradoxes of behavior as against specious sermonizing seem at times to be a negation of black as black and white as white.
Consider the mid-Victorian period, for example. It was, to the outsider and the student of history, a "good" domestic era, when good Queen Victoria extended the boundaries of the British Empire, ruled benevolently without tyranny or oppression of any class, and when the solidarity of the family and the institution of marriage were regarded as sancrosanct. And yet, if one probes beneath the elegant facades, one discerns-if only by reading the novels of Charles Dickens-the terrible squalor and poverty, the snobbish class distinctions which fixed lower-class workers in their menial positions from generation to generation, and most of all, as regards personal freedom, the sanctimonious deceit that passed for sexual morality. Perhaps never before in the history of London could one find so many brothels (and streetwalkers), or houses of "specialty," as they were called, where a respectable and wealthy commoner (as well as a member of the nobility) could purchase a girl to be flogged or put to medieval tortures or compel her to accept violation by half a dozen men including lascars, Hindus and blacks.
In a word, the female, for all her supposed pedestaled status as wife and mother, was looked upon only as an outward symbol for respectability; if she showed the least enthusiasm for her conjugal duties, she was branded a whore or harlot and trollop, and a man might even find grounds for divorce because of a "cooperative" wife. In those gaslit days, the very word "sex" was itself taboo, as were such mild terms as "leg" and "breast" and "buttock". Demonstrations of affection between husband and wife were simply nonexistent, and especially in public, even when welcoming a soldier-husband back from battle. And yet, at the very same time, this high-minded, unemotional code was celebrated as the proof of true virtue and chastity, these same men who could turn a wife out on the streets for being a "harlot" through responding to their legalized caresses frequented the houses of pleasure to revel in fellatio, pederasty, flagellation, miscegenation and even-and especially-pedophilia (the consummation of sexual desire upon underage girls as young as nine and ten).
It was held that no "decent" woman could possibly yield herself-without brutal coercion-to such intimacies as giving her husband or lover oral sex or affecting any position of intercourse other than the "missionary" (the male atop, the woman supine and passive, and preferably with eyes closed and face averted). Yet the more emphasis that was placed on conjugal fidelity and the outward parade of marital propriety, the more complex and perverse the erotic enjoyments sought by the male of the species, for whom no taboo or restriction existed.
The price of this, of course, was frustration and deception, and, as it affected America, a similar outward moral tone which expressed contempt and shock at the "depravity" of extramarital relations or any demonstration of sexuality not regarded as "normal married." The Comstockian era at the end of the last century was, for us, as full of neurotic aftermath as was for the English their own stuffy mid-Victorianism.
However, in today's milieu of greater tolerance and acceptance and exploration, the aftereffects of early parental or educator teaching are very often permanent in the conditioning of adult outlook and behavior. Any child brought up in a home or atmosphere in which the healthy expression of the sexual instinct is looked upon as "shameful" and "sinful" is likely to have powerfully latent neuroses in adolescent and adult life. And these, even when the opportunity for candid sexual adventure is offered the thus-conditioned individual, motivate and divert the reactions of the subject.
We see this in the heroine of this novel, which is actually drawn from a real-life happening; the author himself knew her and sensed her frustrations and conflicts before and after what happened to her. To be sure, the liberty of the fiction-writer has been taken, but in the broader aspect, what happened to Christine Bernard came about precisely because of what she was; and how she accepted these events and how they shaped her was similarly conditioned.
In essence, then, she represents the eternal demi-vierge. the "half-virgin" who has been taught that sex before marriage is the greatest of sins and then, even during that blessed and legalistic state, modesty and inhibition are still the proper conduct of the female towards the rapacious. predatory male. In more brutally direct terms, she might be called a "teaser" who enjoys the exquisitely daring game of rousing a male's sexual desire and then contemptuously denying it, glorying in her powers of incitement and rejection.
Yet at the same time, such a girl may very well inwardly have within her psyche not only a conflict between the urges of her healthy young body and the denial of the social code which guided her through childhood and young girlhood, but also a singular masochistic fatalism. This takes the form of what the psychiatrist calls "sexual rationalization," whereby she believes that if she is overpowered and is compelled to engage in sexual activity against her will, the sin cannot be hers. Curiously enough, this enables her to savor that sin to the fullest without condemning herself; and when she does, as Christine does in our story, even in that self-judgment there is a touch of delicious self-torment which makes her ordeal the more tantalizing and titillating for her to bear. Only the intellectually endowed female is capable of knowing this so honestly and fully as Christine does; yet that knowledge, as we shall see, leads her even further along the unknown path ... by which her fear is secretly a yearning for that which she has been taught must be denied.
Thus, as we see, there is delight in degradation not only for the egoistic degrader; but perhaps even more, and of a very subtle and different kind, for the one degraded. And thus the gulf between puritanism and hedonism has come full cycle once again!
The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Christine Bernard laid down her briefcase containing a stack of compositions from her Junior English class on the writing desk before her window looking out on Everest Avenue. From it she could see the murky, surging waves of Lake Michigan. Though it was the beginning of May, tornados and storms and unseasonal chills had altered the usual pattern of spring in Chicago. But on the Friday evening, it was once again warm and even sultry, the darkening sky having the foreboding clouds of a sudden thunderstorm.
She decided to take a shower first, and since she had had a heavy lunch with two members of the faculty of Midland Circle Junior College, on the Southwest Side, where she had been assigned to teaching last September after getting her certificate from postgraduate studies, she would forego supper till after she had gone through these themes. That would leave Sunday afternoon and evening, and perhaps even a part of tomorrow, free with her date with Henry Brandt, who wanted her to marry him and for whom she had discovered a curious conflicting mixture of feelings, part desire and part fear of becoming emotionally involved. It was the more difficult because Henry had been divorced, was forty, and had three young sons, aged from six to eleven. He too was an English teacher, but at Creighton College in the Northwest Suburb; they had met five months ago at a writer's conference at the Sheraton-Chicago, he had read a paper on modern American authors, and she had gone up to chat with him after the meeting. That had led to his suggestion of dinner and discussion the following week, and just two weeks ago, he had asked her to marry him.
Yes, there would be an intellectual companionship; he was personable, with a wonderful library, and he liked many of the same books she did. And certainly his boys seemed to adore her; the youngest, Calvin, had said, "Oh, Daddy, what a pretty lady!" It would be nice to have a ready-made family without the ordeal of bearing children; indeed, Henry had mentioned almost apologetically that he didn't want any more.
But of course she shivered to think of it, he would want ... well ... sex with her. And till now at the age of twenty-five, Christine Bernard had been a sheltered virgin. Not that she wasn't aware of how Henry's children had come into the world and what occurred between a man and a woman long before their coming, but simply that to this moment, she had never even so much as gone to bed with a man.
Her parents had been famous actors appearing on New York's Broadway as much as in London's famed Picadilly Square. They had broken apart twelve years ago, after an angry row over her father's fondness for young chorus girls, and his counteraccusation that her blonde haughty mother, Verna, liked both boys and girls. It had been an ugly heart-wrenching affair carried by the tabloids of both countries throughout the divorce. After it she had gone to live with her mother's elder and spinster sister, Elizabeth Ascot, a high-school teacher on the North Side of Chicago. From Aunt Elizabeth, Christine had gotten her inspiration to continue her own career in that same noble profession of giving enlightenment to young boys and girls. From the dour, angular woman, too, she had had the awareness of how ugly sex could be, how annihilating to a woman's pride and spirit and personal liberty. Now her aunt was dead these past two years, and Christine still hadn't forgotten that winter night when, just a few months after coming to live with the woman, she had found her weeping and staring at a faded newspaper clipping. It was then that Aunt Elizabeth had told her, "You must never make the mistake I did, Christine, dear. Men want only one thing from a woman-her body. They give her promises, create all sorts of fantasies and paint a rosy life, but when it comes down to it, once they've enjoyed what they want of you, they cast you aside and go on to the next conquest. I-I was in love with a painter, dear, and I--I-we were l-lovers. And he promised to marry me, and then he ran away with one of his dirty, naked models, and married her. And this-this clipping here is the story of his divorce and the scandal she caused him because she found out, as I did early, what a chaser he was."
She was thinking of this as she walked into the bathroom and began to undress, tugging her pretty blue rayon dress over her head and then the white nylon slip, glancing at her reflection in the full-length bathroom door mirror. In school boys had whistled at her, said dirty things; in college, even, there had been older boys to whisper sly proposals in her ear, even to put their hands on her, and she had angrily denounced them, remembering what Aunt Elizabeth had said of what they wanted from her. But even now, this marriage to Henry Brandt, if she agreed, would mean ... that he would have the right to see her like this, touch her here and there ... do ... things to her. A hot wave of flushes flooded her exquisite satiny pink-and-white skin as she reached behind her to unfasten the snaps of her bra. She saw in the mirror the image of a dazzling pocket Venus, five feet and a quarter inch in height, with long shimmering dark-brown hair in a fluffy pageboy that fell caressingly about rounded, dimpled shoulders. Her face was a sensitive oval, with widely spaced, very large dark-brown eyes fringed with thick, short lashes and highlighted by thin, expressively curving brows. Her dainty nose was just a trifle snub, with thin, sensuous flaring wings, and her mouth-the upper lip somewhat riper than its kissable twin-was small and supercilious. She looked even more ingenuous now, still wearing the harlequin glasses she affected in the classroom to make her look older, more prim, a proper teacher for the young.
Her hands covered her naked breasts as she glimpsed them in the mirror, and the blush deepened. They were round, ripe, widely spaced and set high on her satiny chest, the aureolae narrow and of a dark coral shade in which the soft crinkly buds of her nipples palpitated. She slid down her matching nylon panties, and stood in her white satin-elastic garterbelt that hugged the tops of sheer, snug beige nylon hose. Pedestaled in four-inch-heeled black leather pumps (to minimize her petite stature in class), her voluptuous body rippled and tremored, the heels causing long undulations to ascend her sinuously high-set calves, the elegant rondures of nervously muscled, gradually ripening thighs that serged into compact, jouncy, upstandingly rounded buttocks with a sinuously narrow crease separating them. She would see the winking "eye" of her navel, a shallow niche in the carnation-sheened flesh, and then the thick dark curls of her mount, and her blushes deepened.
Hastily, sitting down on the taboret beside the laundry-hamper to draw off her garterbelt, pumps and hose, she got in the shower, then soon emerged, a rosy Venus, towelling her breasts and belly, but from sly moment to moment her eyes glanced furtively at the mirror. For subconsciously, Christine Bernard was in love with herself, aware of her physical beauty and its enticement. And while at the same time she detested the salacious and crude sex-lusts of the youths she taught-she had heard enough of their obscenities and profanities shouted in the corridors and on the recreation field-she couldn't help being secretly titillated by the knowledge that they found her desirable and, of course unobtainable.
There were times when she would go walking in the park near Lake Michigan, two blocks from her apartment, studying how men seated on the park benches-even old men-or walking across the .street would stop to gawk and stare after her. When on such occasions her eyes met theirs, she would give a contemptuous toss of her lovely head and curl her soft red mouth in an expression of utter contempt. But invariably, once beyond such scrutiny, her heart would be beating a little faster and she would feel delicious little twitchings along the sensitive surfaces of her inner thighs. And late at night, when she couldn't sleep, the recollection of her "conquests" would make her sometimes slip a dainty forefinger towards the moist, thick-fleeced core of her womanhood and touch and tickle lingeringly until at last the sweet oblivion of draining release was granted. And that sufficed. Only she knew this means of appeasement without granting a single iota of herself to the predator, the ruthless uncouth beast that was the male animal who went about on two legs instead of four....
Donning a yellow satin hostess robe and putting on a pair of soft fluffy mules, she moved back to the writing desk, opened the briefcase, and with a sigh, attacked the themes. They would have to be graded with comments and returned by Monday afternoon, and she knew in advance what to expect. Last Monday, after a discussion of the poetry of Amy Lowell and the latter's famous "Patterns", she had assigned the general theme of "Daydreams", urging her students-who ranged from a very precocious 16-year-old to a surly long-haired youth of nineteen-to set forth their wishes for the kind of life they ultimately wanted to lead.
Oh, yes, it was quite as she had expected. Typed or laboriously handwritten pages of their hopes and dreams, most of which narrowed down to making a lot of money, being famous, having important jobs; and the girls, even more predictably, wanting to marry a handsome rich man and travel all over the world and have jewels and fine clothing and furs.
Again she sighed, and reached for the next to last theme. It was very neatly typed on an electric typewriter, which was strange to start with; nobody in her class had access to such a machine, she was fairly sure. Then her eyes widened behind the harlequin glasses, and she let out a gasp. The very first lines had sent another flood of crimson staining her high-set cheeks, spreading almost to her dainty little ears:
Christine, my girlish queen-
I see you enthroned in rich raiment, with a tiara on your head and a scepter in your hand, in a glistening gown of transparent sequins which falls to your slim ankles, your head held regally high, a scornful and teasing smile on your moist red lips. You are alone in the palace, reigning supreme.
Then suddenly the tapers are extinguished, and shadows engulf the great throne room. Out of the darkness strides a masked man with a naked sword in his hand.
He mounts the stairway to your throne, seizes you by the wrists and takes you captive. In vain you cry out: your guards have fled, there is no one to come to your aid. He laughs, a hollow, mocking laugh. Then, flinging you over his shoulder, he mounts astride his great white charger and gallops through the forest for long hours till he comes at last to a gloomy castle on a far distant hill.
He crosses the moat over the lowered drawbridge, and the gates are at once opened for his return with his queenly prize. Dismounting, he drags you. still crying out for help, into the castle, where two brawny Amazon guards take charge of you and ruthlessly drag you down the stairwell to a dark, dank dungeon. The creaking door is swung back and the cruelly smiling women strip you naked, shackle your wrists high above your head, place metal gyves about your bare ankles and leave you there to your mounting terror in this Stygian darkness.
You weep endlessly, your heart beating madly as you await a sound, but there is none. At last, after you have fallen into a fear-haunted restless sleep, the door suddenly swings open. The masked man enters, holding a torch high in one hand, a whip in the other. He sets the torch in the metal bracket above your head and laughs again. Then the song of the whip is heard in the dungeon. Lightly at first, the caressing lash flicks your bare thighs, your soft panting breasts, your tender belly where the navel is a wanton hollow hinting at the sweeter oasis of your love-temple-and there too the tip of his silken lash pays homage to your delicious nakedness. But then the lash falls more painfully, and you twist and writhe, prey to its diabolical kisses which score your squirming buttocks and back and sides in angry, burning weals.
At last you implore mercy. He demands that you abdicate your throne and become his harlot, the lowliest of his slaves. When you hesitate, the whip sings again, leaping between your struggling naked thighs, over the heaving mounds of your naked bosom, till you are mad with the unending torment. You whimper that you will surrender if only he will show mercy, and he blows out the torch and falls upon you ravenously.
Then you shriek as you know at last the will of man, the all-conquering. And when he strides out of your dungeon, sated with your quivering bare body, to leave you once again in terrifying darkness, he calls out mockingly, "I shall return when my flesh hungers for yours again, my Christine. Wait there for me, my naked slave, my dungeon whore, to await my pleasure. For it is all you exist for henceforth till the end of your days of beauty!"
The pages fluttered from her nerveless hands; she rose abruptly, her face scarlet. There had been more, much more, and it had become still more explicit and graphic. The writer had described her captor's eventual return to the dungeon and the demands he had made on the naked helpless queen, and Christine could scarcely believe the erotic fantasies the author of this theme had conjured up. There was no signature-only a final typed line, as a kind of postscript, "If you would visit this dungeon, come Saturday night to 1728 South Crosswell Avenue and ring the bell three times."
It was incredible, monstrous! Who in her class could have such a degenerate mind, could be so sexually depraved as even to think up the ways by which her body had been made the instrument of such fanciful lust? And who, even admitting that some of her male students were known to date frequently and boast of their affairs, had the verbiage and imagination to set all this down? And, which was still more frightening, who had the audacity to turn this horrible piece in as a bona fide theme to be graded for marks in her class? No one she knew or recognized from that flowery literary style; even the address cited at the very end meant nothing to her, either.
But assuredly, something would have to be done. She would have to learn the writer's identity, and either have him seek psychiatric help or else report him to Dean Munson. Such a person would be dangerous. Yes, she would go to the address in the letter tomorrow evening, and confront this obscenely bold, precocious boy who had dared to put her into his own nasty, dirty dreams. She would reason with him at first, warn him of the great dangers he ran by even thinking such filthy thoughts about a decent young woman. Why, in all the time she had had this class, she had never once had any personal discussion with any of her students from which they could have gotten the slightest notion of her own personal affairs. Never once had she even hinted at the subject of ... of ... sex. And now this!
She pulled open the drawer of her writing desk and hastily stuck the offensive theme beneath a stack of file folders, then rose abruptly, biting her lips, strangely ill at ease. The low, distant rumble of thunder made her shiver, for whoever the writer of that-that horrible trash-was, he had evoked a mood of shadows and violence that lingered even now, though she had put away the dreadful pages far out of sight.
Then she started, a hand to her throat, as she heard the front door bell. She wasn't expecting anyone. Henry Brandt had said he would call her for a dinner date next week, as he was supposed to be out of town most of this week doing some special research at the Cleveland Public Library; his college had the Easter break this first week of May, while hers had come two weeks ago.
She walked to the door and pressed the "Talk" button, called, "Who is it?"
"Henry Brandt, dear. May I come up for a minute?" was the unexpected answer.
"Oh-I-I-y-yes, H-Henry, just a minute," she stammered. She pressed the admittance buzzer and hesitantly opened the door without taking off the chain, just to make sure. There were so many robberies these days, one had to be awfully careful. Not that it wasn't Henry, but then someone could have found out his name and might be using it to gain entry to the apartment....
But when she saw his tall gawky figure standing in the landing, recognized his gray car coat and, since he had his fedora hat in one hand and a tissue-wrapped box in the other, saw the thinning dark-brown hair with the receding line at the forehead, she hastily drew off the chain and opened the door, stepping back. "I-I didn't expect to hear from you till tomorrow, H-Henry," she quavered as he entered, then shut and locked the door behind him.
"I know. Forgive me for coming so late without calling, but I just got back from Cleveland and I wanted to see you, Christine, dear," he said gently. "Here, this is for you."
"Oh, t-thank you, Henry. Did you have a nice trip?" She accepted the tissue-wrapped box, moved over to the low wide couch near the window. "Take off your coat and do sit down."
Draping his coat over the edge of the couch and putting his fingers on the little table just beyond, Henry Brandt seated himself, cleared his throat and eyed his young fiancee.
Christine, trying to conceal her agitation from the unexpected literary effusion she had just read, seated herself at the other end and occupied herself with unwrapping the box. "Oh how nice-only you know I shouldn't eat a lot of candy, Henry," she said at last, with a shy glance at him. "I really think your boys would enjoy it a lot more-why don't you give it to them instead? But it was sweet of you to think of me."
"I've got presents for them, don't you worry, honey," his voice was suddenly husky. "You know, the candy was-well, just an excuse to come visit you. You-you made me very happy last week when you said you'd marry me. And so-well, honey, I-I wanted to talk about plans. You know. Now my school ends June twenty-fourth. What about yours?"
"The twenty-sixth, Henry." She kept her eyes averted, the candy box in her lap, more and more distracted by the alarming theme. She knew she didn't dare share it with him; it would have been unthinkable. And suddenly she was conscious of the fact that under the zippered, tightly clinging hostess robe, she was naked. Her bosom began to rise and fall eratically, and once again an adorable blush stained her cheeks.
"Great! Well, why couldn't we be married, say that last Saturday in June, then? And leave on our honeymoon right after. I was thinking about Mexico. Or would you rather go to Hawaii, dear?" Henry Brandt surreptitiously had moved closer to her and, once again clearing his throat, stared greedily at her with what was more than academic interest. The tight cling of the yellow satin against her round full firm breasts and thighs, the warm carnation tinting of her skin intensified by the shower and towelling, the scent of her delicate perfume, crystallized his desire for her.
"I-I hadn't thought about a-a honeymoon," was her nervous answer. "Er-can I get you a drink?"
"No thanks, Christine, dear.' If-well, if you want the ttuth, I just dropped in to see my girl." Now his voice was hoarse and trembling, and he moved still closer, till at last his thigh brushed hers. Christine gasped nervously, glanced at him with large startled eyes, and then flushed hotly as his gaze met hers. For Henry Brandt was perspiring, and, taking out a handkerchief to mop his face, he again cleared his throat, as if about to make an announcement in his classroom.
"T-that was thoughtful of you, H-Henry."
"Yes, well-anyway, don't you think we ought to make definite plans? You said you'd marry me-or have you changed your mind, darling?" His voice now took on a kind of wistful, almost plaintive tone. Suddenly, Christine felt a twinge of distaste; was it loneliness that had made her accept this her really first suitor? Was it because he had offered the security of marriage and she regarded this as a bulwark against the crudities of the male to which she had been subjected since her early teens? She forced herself to put aside this disturbing afterthought; there was much to be said for an intellectual marriage where two persons shared the same scholastic and artistic interests.
"N-no, I haven't changed my mind," she at last replied. "The first week in July would be all right, I suppose. And I haven't been to either place, so you decide for us, dear."
Henry Brandt's myopic eyes grew watery, and then he beamed. Overjoyed, he suddenly put his arms around her shoulders and planted a long, almost panting kiss on her soft trembling lips. "Darling!" he breathed as he released her, "you don't know how happy you've made me. I-I'm terribly in love with you, Christine. Fact it, I catch myself behaving like a schoolboy. Even to dreaming about you-"
She started convulsively, and once again the telltale blush of emotional agitation suffused her cheeks. "D-dreaming about me, H-Henry?" she tremulously echoed.
"Uh huh," he murmured slyly, pressing himself still closer to her till there could be no mistake about his suddenly amorous mood. "All sorts of things, not the kind a stuffy old English teacher usually does, either. Do you want to hear about them, sweetheart?"
"PI-please, Henry-I-I'm not feeling at my best this evening. I-my class is giving me trouble-"
"I understand, dearest." His left arm went around her waist, and his right hand caught both of hers and squeezed them. "I know just how you feel. You're lonely, as I am, ever since Martha left me for another man. That was the real reason we divorced-I don't think I ever told you, dear. Yes, she was unfaithful all along, but it took me years to find out. So really, sweetheart, in spite of my age, I've never honestly had a girl who truly loved me. And that's why-well, after that lonely trip, I wanted so much to see you because I'm wild about you, dearest. You've brought back my youth-even to my dreams-"
Before she could interrupt or anticipate him, Henry Brandt had leaned forward and kissed her mouth, this time darting just the tip of his tongue between her lips, while his right hand, releasing hers, suddenly moved to cup one of her firm young breasts and squeeze it, then rub his palm lingeringly back and forth over the nippled breast.
"Ouff-ahh-n-no! Don't-Henry, please stop it-" Christine spluttered, twisting her face away, and with both hands she seized his caressing hand and forced it away from her now tumultuously heaving bosom.
"But, darling, we're engaged, and I thought you wanted to be loved-" he panted.
"N-not t-that way-please-I-I'm upset-I don't want to be angry with you-but won't you please g-go now, please, Henry?" she rose from the couch, digging he fingernails into her palms.
"I-I'm sorry." Instantly he was contrite, like an abashed schoolboy caught in error. "I should have known better than to force myself on you, Christine. I-I'll call you next week, then. Maybe we can have dinner and talk thing over?"
"Y-yes. That would be all right. T-thank you for the candy, Henry."
"It was nothing." He seized his coat and hat, walked to the door, looked back forlornly. "Well, talk to you next week then, honey. Good night."
When the door closed behind him, Christine Bernard sat down on the couch and burst into almost hysterical teats....
CHAPTER TWO
Christine had gone carefully through the rest of the themes all of Saturday morning and the better part of the afternoon, marked tentative grades in erasable pencil. She would finish them on Sunday. It was fairly certain that Henry wouldn't call her for any date, not after his unexpected visit last night, she told herself. And she would settle this dreadful nonsense once and for all this evening. She would take a cab to the address, confront the wretched boy who dared to think of her, his teacher, in such disgustingly obscene terms, threaten him with a full report to Dean Munson if he didn't apologize and promise never to do such an awful thing again. And of course he would have to submit a new composition that would be fit for reading-or he would flunk the course. Yes, that was the only way to deal with such a despicable boy. What was more, she would tell him that if he annoyed her in any way the rest of the term, she would tell his parents. Embarrassment would be a potent weapon against such a thoughtless creature.
So at four o'clock, she showered, then dressed and telephoned for a cab. It was still cloudy outside, so she took along a raincoat. A trim blue rayon dress with modestly cut bodice and skirt down just past her dimpled knees; a white nylon slip, a pink bra and panty set, white satin-elastic garterbelt with broad tight tabs to hook tautly to the welt of her beige nylons, and trim black leather pumps with four-inch heels. She choose her black harelquin glasses so as to appear more severe than usual, put on her light spring coat and a pretty blue felt turban hat. Then, pursing her lips as she stared into her bathroom mirror and satisfied at the decorous vision that was reflected back, she went swiftly downstairs, having just heard the cab honk outside to announce its arrival.
As she was about to open the vestibule door, the first-floor door at her left opened and a tall black-haired man emerged. It was the new tenant, Mr. Hamlin, who had moved in three weeks before. The gossipy old Swedish janitor, Mr. Engstrom, had told her that Mr. Hamlin was a free-lance writer who did work for some of the big advertising agencies in town. She noticed the Saturday he had moved in that the movers were bringing in many boxes of books and three bookcases. But she had always made it a point never to be too social with her neighbors. She had had to move eighteen months ago because the elderly man on the floor below her had started asking her to come down and have a cup of coffee with him, and, whenever he saw her coming into the building, had made it a point to come out of his apartment and try to talk to her. Finally, the silly old fool had actually gone so far as to hint that he was lonely and knew that she was too, because he never saw any boyfriends come to visit her, so maybe they could get together.
"Good afternoon, Miss Bernard," the new neighbor inclined his head and said politely.
"The same to you, Mr. Hamlin," Christine said tersely.
"I'm in a hurry, there's a cab waiting."
"I see. Matter of fact, Mr. Engstrom tells me you teach English. I thought, since I'm a professional writer, we might get together some time and talk about creative writing."
Christine groaned inwardly. Now why did stupid old Mr. Engstrom have to go broadcasting her business all around the neighborhood? She didn't want to move; this apartment on Everest was the nicest she had ever had. Well, she would just have to discourage this Mr. Hamlin in a way that would let him know once and for all that she just didn't mix with the neighbors. She would tell him she was engaged-after all, she was. "We'll see, I have to go now," she threw back at him as she opened the door and went out to her cab.
The tall black-haired man grinned slowly as he watched her get into the cab, revealing a momentary glimpse of delectably rounded nylon-sheathed thigh. Then he went back into his apartment, picked up the phone and dialed a number....
The address she had given the driver was on the far Southwest Side, almost at the city limits. Christine frowned as he turned off the Dan Ryan Expressway at 127th Street. Not one of her students lived out this far, so far as she could recall from the class roster.
The cab turned off onto an almost deserted street, with several vacant lots on both sides, then made a left turn. "This here's South Crosswell, lady. We oughta be there next block. Sure this is the address you want?"
"Yes, it is, driver," Christine leaned anxiously forward. She had written the address down in a memo book in her black alligator-skin purse and verified it before telling the driver where to go.
"Oh, yeah, guess that must be it there near the corner.
Yeah, 1728, that's it. Looks like a printing shop, lady. This is really out to hell and gone in the sticks. You wanna have me wait to take you back, huh?"
"I-I don't know-" Christine hesitated. There was an apartment building on the other side, then a big vacant lot and billboard next to it. Here, a two-story rundown building stood to her right, with a kind of English-basement entrance and a sign, "Thompson Printing-Engraving." Behind her, a small tavern, with a sign "Closed for Remodeling", was the only other edifice on this side of the street. No one was walking and only two cars were parked curbside across the street. It was hardly prepossessing. "Maybe you'd better, driver."
She got out and walked to the door. It looked dark inside, and she could only vaguely make out a desk and counter, and, further back, metal shelves with papers stacked on them. She tried the door, but it was locked. To her right, in the faded paneling, was a bell and she pressed it and rang three long times.
Frowning with vexation, she realized that she might have been the victim of a practical joke: a large cab bill and a false address; she ought, she reproved herself angrily, to have been more careful than to take it at face value. If the writer of that theme didn't have the correct address where he lived, knowing how liable he was to be reported to the principal.
And then suddenly the door opened, and a bespectacled brown-haired boy, about sixteen, in dirty gray woolen sweater and corduroy trousers and loafers, appeared. "That you ringing, lady?"
She didn't recognize the boy at all. "This is 1728 South Crosswell, isn't it?"
"Sure is. Who-d-ya want?"
"I-er-one of my students gave me this address-"
"Oh, sure, now I know who you are, lady. C'mon, he's in the back'n downstairs," the sweater-clad boy volunteered.
Christine Bernard turned back to wave at the cab driver to wait for her, then reluctantly followed her teen-aged guide, who turned on a dim light at the back, revealing the rows of metal-shelved cases and, at the far back and right, a door. He opened this, gesturing. "Down there, he's waiting fer ya."
"What's his name?" the petite teacher demanded.
The boy sniggered. "Its a sort of surprise. He told me not to tell. Says if you wanna find out who he is, you gotta come down and say hello. That's what he told me, lady."
"Oh, the impudence!" Christine spluttered. Again pursing her lovely lips in sign of irritation, she walked slowly down the narrow wooden stairs, and then suddenly drew back, her eyes widening behind the harlequin glasses, her mouth opening in a strangled cry of disbelief.
Four youths stood at the landing below, on the stone floor, all wearing stocking masks, jeans or corduroy trousers.
"Hi, Teach!" the tallest of them called mockingly. "Git her and bring her down! You, Four Eyes, tell the cab driver she ain't gonna wait."
"Yeah, sure, right now!" the sweatered boy called, then hurried back up into the shop and out to dismiss the cab driver. Christine turned to flee, but already two of the masked youths were on her, seizing her wrists and dragging her back down the steps.
"Stop it! Do you hear me? Let me go! Oh, you'll be sorry for this-who are you? Take your filthy hands off me-" Christine cried, struggling violently, twisting and kicking. But the other two stooped now to grab her ankles and hoist her into the air, trundling her like a sack of potatoes across a broad room sectioned off by a brick wall, in whose middle a narrower door appeared.
Again the lovely captive writhed and jerked, crying out, "I said, let me go! Who are you? Why are you treating me this way? Stop it, I'm a teacher-you'll get into terrible trouble for doing this-ohhh, you're hurting!"
One of the four captors opened the narrow door, reached inside to flick on the light switch, his other hand still retaining a grip on one of Christine Bernard's slim nylon-sheathed ankles, and then she found herself unceremoniously carried inside. Here was a narrower room, with slightly lower ceiling and no windows. She caught sight of a broken-down box frame with coil springs atop which a dirty mattress had been laid, overlapping at one side; a crude, heavy wooden table resembling those made in high-school workshops, and a low, squat armchair whose upholstery was ripped at the seat and arms. A single bare light bulb dangling from a ceiling fixture cast the only light, and now she could plainly see the faces of her four captors; each wore a stocking mask with a cutout for the mouth, thus making their features grotesque and unrecognizable.
They carried her over to the armchair and roughly plumped her down into it, two of them gripping her shoulders to force her to remain seated.
"Ohhhh!" she gasped, her voice trembling with indignation and fear, "what's the meaning of this-this outrage? And which one of you wrote that disgusting thing you had the shameless impudence to turn in as homework?"
The door opened, and the four masked youths turned towards it as the youth who had admitted Christine Bernard entered. She, too, turned to stare at him, and didn't recognize him as one of her students. One of the boys holding her by the shoulder called out, "Didja send the cab away?"
"Sure did. Gave him a buck," the bespectacled youngster chuckled as he took a pack of Pall Malls out of the back pocket of his cords, lit one and walked slowly over to the armchair to peer gloatingly at the struggling, frantic young woman. "Hiya, Teach. Boy, my brother sure didn't lie when he said you were hot stuff."
"Ohh! H-how dare you-no, will someone tell me what's the meaning of this-this outrageous behavior?"
"That's Teach for you, guys," a stocky youth, one of the two standing in front of her responded. "Shall we tell her now or let her guess?"
"Guess what? I demand to know who you are and what you intend to do-and I'm warning you right now, you'd better let me go or you'll all be in jail!" Christine angrily cried out, again uselessly trying to get out of the chair.
"That's where you're wrong, Teach honey," the stocky masked teen-ager jeered. Then, jerking his thumb towards the corner to her right, he added, "See that movie camera'n Polaroid over there, Teach?"
Christine's dilated eyes shifted to the direction in which he was pointing, and then she caught her breath as the frightening implications began vaguely to assert themselves. "W-what of it? Are you going to let me go or not?" she forced herself to seem indifferent.
"Oh, sure, Teach, you'll get back in plenty'a time to go teach Monday afternoon. Fact is, we wouldn't wanna miss being in class and watchin' how you act after you've got to know us better."
"Not better, real good," the brown-haired boy who had admitted her chimed in, and taunting laughter followed. Christine's lovely face reddened as again she tried desperately to rise from the chair, only to be held fast and to accomplish, in the flailing of her legs, only the uprucking of her blue rayon skirt about three inches above her dimpled knees.
"That's right," her stocky interlocutor resumed. "What we mean is, Teach, you're gonna put out. 'N jist to make sure you don't wanna talk to the cops or ol' Dean Munson, we're gonna take all sorts'a sexy movies of you doing it, see? That way, if you wanna blab, you're sure gonna make yourself out to be a real hot cunt who can't get enough from her own class, see?"
"OHHHH!" Words couldn't describe the shocked disbelief of Christine Bernard's tone as the masked boy's meaning dawned in her distraught mind. Her face turned crimson almost to her throat, and she stared at him as if he were a loathsome monster appearing without warning in one of her dreams.
"Cat gotcher tongue, huh, Teach?" the unmasked brown-haired bespectacled boy who had led her into this carefully prepared trap sniggered. "Lemme put it this way-we're gonna fuck you, Teach. Now you kin have it any way you wanna-I mean either you put out real nice, sweet and friendly, or we'll do it to you anyhow. Any which way you do it, though, we're gonna take lots of movies showing how good you can cooperate in bed, see? Now jist think'a what ol' Dean Munson would say if he could see you spreadin' your cute legs to take a young guy's dick in that hot little cunt'a yers, Christine baby!"
"OHHH, My G-G-God! You-you must be insane, all of you!" She could hardly speak and her voice shook with the monumental horror and realization of what her captors intended. Once again, wild with terror and loathing, she tried to rise from the chair. But the two masked boys who were facing her came forward to crouch down and grab her ankles, staring greedily at her through the stocking masks, and immobilizing her.
"Boy, I can hardly wait to get Teach peeled down and on that mattress," one of the youths thickly muttered. His left hand slyly stroked the stockinged calf of the exquisitely sculptured leg his right hand imprisoned by the ankle, and Christine Bernard uttered a frantic scream, "OH, NOO! DON'T DO THAT! OH, YOU HORRIBLE, FILTHY BEASTS, DON'T TOUCH ME!"
"Get that, you guys-she don't wanna be touched!" the boy who was feeling her calf jeeringly announced. "But Teach baby, watcha gonna do when you're bare-ass naked and hafta take a guy's dick up that tight little hole'a yers, huh? He can't do it very well without touching ya, now, kin he?"
Once again raucous laughter filled the room, drowning out Christine's by now hysterical cries and almost incoherent threats. When it ended, the boy feeling her legs resumed, "Now look, Teach, and listen good. Make up your mind you're gonna git fucked. We're gonna cut for turns, see? Then you're gonna peel down raw and take us on. If you put up a fuss, we'll hafta make you come across and you might git messed up some, see?"
"My G-God-oh, my G-God-but-but that's r-rape-you-you-can go to the p-penitentiary for a thing lik that-I-I'll identify you, I'll tell the police-"
"Naw you won't, Teach!' the masked youth crouching before her, his left hand still slyly stroking her sinuous, resilient nylon-sheathed calf, retorted. "Like Joey says-that's right, you guys, Teach hasn't been introduced proper yet-well, Teach, the guy who opened the door and took care'a yer cab, he's Joey. You owe him a buck he shelled out to send the cab away, but that kin wait till we git done, can't it, you guys?"
"OH, NOOO! LET ME GOOO! YOU MUST BE ALL INSANE, YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME! PLEASE, LET ME GO!" Christine, terrorized now, tried with all her strength to rise, but again was forced back, sobbing and writhing, tears running down her crimsoned cheeks.
"Seems like the least we can do is pay the buck back to Joey ourselves, seein' as how Teach is gonna be real nice to all us guys," the boy holding her left ankle mocked. He was tall and wiry, his mouth thin and his teeth nicotine-stained. "Now I'll say it over again, Teach, and this is the last time, so you better get it straight. We're gonna keep you here till Monday. You don't have a class till two, so that gives us from now till then to have fun, see? We'll feed you good, even let you sleep-after you've put out nice and sweet the way we want, a'course-but you're sure as hell gonna put out. And like Joey jist toldja, we're all gonna keep souvenirs of this fun time withcha, Teach. See, I gotta darkroom where I live and I can turn out prints real good'n fast. You jist think'a squealing to the fuzz, Dean Munson's gonna get a stag movie'n some snapshots he won't ever fergit, 'n when he sees 'em, he won't wanna keep a hot-pussied teacher like you on the faculty. Why, you might corrupt the other kids-"
Once more jeering laughter drowned out Christine's agonized protests and cries, as she again fought her four captors, once again being forcibly reseated. And this time the stocky youth holding her right ankle slid his other hand under her skirt, tautingly squeezing the springy young flesh of her lower thigh through the sheer nylon.
"B-but I-I'll tell him you k-kidnapped me and-and f-forced me-and that horrible theme one of you turned in-you can't get away with this!" she managed to gasp as she squirmed and twisted feverishly in an effort to disengage the masked youths.
"Jeez, fer a teacher you're awful dumb!" the stocky boy shook his head. "It wasn't even signed, first place, so you can't prove any of us guys turned it in. And when we tell our folks you made a date with us all here, they'll sure as hell want to have your cute ass fired out of school."
"Oh, hell, Hank, can the chatter, and let's get with it," the tall wiry youth chouching beside him interposed.
"Yeah, you're right. Joey, get that deck'a card, put it on the table. Then get some'a that rope'n tie Teach's wrists and ankles so she can't get loose while we cut to see who gets into Teach's panties first."
It was a nightmare; it couldn't be happening, Christine told herself, her tear-blurred eyes shifting this way and that as she saw the unmasked brown-haired boy pull a tattered deck of playing cards out of the back pockets of his cords, place it on the table, and then walk over to a small door at the far end of this sectioned-off room and open it. Twisting her scarlet face to watch, she saw an old washbasin and toilet; Joey now stooped down and picked up several lengths of rope and walked back towards her, grinning with anticipation. He tossed one of them to one of the boys behind the chair, who swiftly dragged her wrists behind her back and tied them tightly. Joey himself, squatting down, tied the other length twice around her slim ankles as she screamed and twisted, trying vainly to escape. "There now," he panted as he rose, "guess that'll holdja. You kin watch the card game, Teach honey. I sure hope I make it first witcha, Teach, 'n that's a fact!"
Trembling fitfully, Christine Bernard, after testing the ropes that fixed her wrists and ankles and discovering that they would not give, sank back and begun to sob as the four masked youths and Joey walked over to the table. Joey shuffled the cards several times, then put the deck back down in the middle of the table. "Okay, who cuts first?" he wanted to know.
"Oh, my G-God, stop this horrible game-please-you've no right-I-I've never given any of you-if you're in my class-any reason to think-I-I'm that sort of a person-oh, doesn't any of you have some decency? You-you're committing a dreadful crime-oh, please!" Christine cried out hysterically as the quintet, whispering among themselves, began to cut the cards.
The stocky boy who had palpated her leg turned triumphantly, holding up an ace of spades. "I'm first for sure, no matter what these other jerk-offs get, Christine girl!" he triumphantly announced. Then, moving towards her, he tugged off the stocking mask.
"Oh, my G-God-H-Henry F-Ferguson!" she recognized the shy, almost inarticulate seventeen-year-old student who sat in the last row of her English class.
"Right the first time, Teach. Yeah, I was the guy who turned in that theme. You gonna give me an E for it, Christine honey?" he snickered as he squatted down in front of the chair, his eyes devouring her heaving breasts, the coniuurs of her shapely rounded thighs lined by the rumpled, slightly uprucked blue rayon skirt. The binding of her slim wrists behind her back accentuated the bold thrust of her superb round bosom, and she turned a furious scarlet as she saw his glinting blue eyes fix on those virginal turrets.
"Oh-H-Henry-my G-God-I-I can't believe you were the one-why you-you've always been so nice in class-your work is always good and I-I never thought you had your mind on-on-"
"On pussy, huh, Teach? G'wan, don't be afraid to say it!" he jeered. "How can a guy help wanting some, Teach, when you wiggle that cute sexy ass'a yers in class, and make those baby-faced googoo eyes behind those specs'a yers every time you're telling us about those books we're supposed to read? Like last Monday when you assigned us this daydream crap, remember? You made a joke about not being afraid to reveal your innermost thoughts, and you sort of giggled and switched your cute ass. Well, Teach, now you're gonna find out what our innermost thoughts are really like." Turning back to his cronies, he called out, "You guys finished figurin' out the turns yet?"
"Yeah!" the tall wiry youth called. "I'm next, then Mack'n Bruce, and Joey comes last. I had a king'a hearts. Now for cryeye, don't take all night ballin' her, Hank!"
CHAPTER THREE
"Oh, no-please-H-Henry, you know this is shameful-certainly an intelligent boy like you isn't going to be party to this dreadful thing-" Christine Bernard stammered, shrinking back in the armchair.
"You're pretty slow on the uptake, Teach," the stocky teen-ager taunted as he squatted down and ran his palms over both her stockinged calves, from ankles up to the knee hollows. His eyes fixed greedily on the rumpled blue rayon skirt, trying to see the mysterious and as yet veiled contours of her thighs.
Frantic with shame and embarrassment, the bespectacled young woman clutched her legs together and twisted herself to one side, only to see the other four boys standing beside the table watching intently. Joey, the youngest and the only one besides Henry as yet unmasked, called out, "Get with it, Hank! We're all raring to go with Teach."
"You see, Teach?" Henry Ferguson resumed in a condescending tone that made the mature and beautiful victim even more dreadfully aware that this wasn't a practical joke, "you aren't in class anymore. All the guys except Joey are your own pupils. We're not worried about your finding out our names because, as Joey just told you, we're going to have those nice movies of you cooperating with us when you start fucking."
"Oh, don't talk like that! How in God's name could you have thought of such a horrible thing? You know it's criminal, Henry-I remember your work very well, you've always been so proper and nice in class, you've always done such good work-how could you be a part of an awful idea like this? Why, this is kidnapping and worse-these ropes are hurting me, please, Henry, I beg of you, in the name of reason and decency, don't let them do this to me-save me!"
"No reason to fight like that, Teach," the youth blandly replied, his hands still caressing her squirming, tensing calves despite her frantic efforts to jerk her legs away from his profaning touches. "We got lots of Trojans-safes to you, Teach!-so you don't have to worry about getting a baby from all the fucking you're going to dish out to us guys."
"Oh, Henry, don't talk like that-if you only knew-Henry, I'm appealing to you-I-I don't go out with boys, I've never done anything to give you any reason to think I'm this sort of person-and I still can't believe you wrote that theme-it's not like your style at all-"
"Oh, you liked it, huh, Teach?" he. grinned and winked at her. "I guess I have to tell the truth right now, and I did get some help with it. If you really want to know, it was my uncle-he does a lot of writing for a living anyway, and he owns this building. That's why we came here, so nobody's going to disturb us all through the weekend. You can just have all the fun you want, we won't snitch if you're a good sweet cooperative bitch, Teach. But make up your mind to it, you're going to put out even if we have to make you, understand?"
"Oh, no! Please, Henry!" The bespectacled young woman leaned forward and, nervously glancing at the other four youths, whispered hoarsely, "Henry, please save me-I'm begging you, please! I promise I won't say a word to the authorities if you help me get away! I-I told you I'm not that sort of a person-I've never had a man-please respect me-have pity, don't let them do this dreadful thing to me, Henry! I always looked on you as one of my best students-"
"I haven't any kick coming on that score, Teach," he slyly interrupted, pinching her calves and making her squeal and sob as she again tried to twist away from his tactual indignities. "You always did give me either an E or a G plus, I have to hand it to you. I'm not mad at you, Teach, I just want to fuck you, that's all. I can't put it any plainer than that, can I? Now, if I untie you, are you going to promise to be a good little bitch and take off all your clothes and go over there on the mattress and get ready for your shagging? We'll give you plenty of rest between fucks, Teach. We've got all the time in the world till Monday morning, so you don't have to worry about getting honked out or roughed up-unless you give us any trouble. Then we'll just have to make you come across, understand?"
Now there could be no further doubt of their intention. Again she shrank back, her magnificent breasts rising and falling tumultuously, her eyes glassy and huge behind the harlequin glasses, her throat choked with terror and shame, so that she could hardly utter a sound. And Henry Ferguson's hands still kept fondling her ankles and calves, while he stared at her huddled knees as if longing to look under the skirt and slip and see the hidden treasures beyond onto the mysterious, tempting core of her virginal femininity itself!
"I tell you what, Teach, there's just one outside chance, if you want to take it," Henry Ferguson proposed. Now his hands had reached the dimpled curves of both knees, as Christine wildly twisted this way and that to disengage his profaning grasp.
"Oh, my God-please take your hands off me, Henry-this is wrong, you know it's wrong-it's shameful-you-you're old enough to understand you can't f-force me-a woman to do-what you want-oh please tell them that-I can't-I'd rather die-don't you understand-I've never had a man, I'm not a-a prostitute-I'm a decent woman, your teacher, Henry-oh please, please understand and make them understand too, I'm begging you!"
"Come on, Hank, get with it!" the tall wiry boy impatiently called out. "Need some help peeling her down?"
"Oh, no, don't let him touch me, Henry, please don't!" Christine almost shrieked, cowering back in the chair and staring with mounting terror as the youth ambled, hands on his jeans pockets, towards the chair.
"Maybe she'd feel more like dishing it out if she knew who we were, Hank," the youth chuckled as he drew off his stocking mask. "Hiya, Teach baby. Recognize me? I'm a C student of yours, you ought to know that."
It was the nineteen-year-old light-brown haired youth whom she knew by the name of Ben Elverson, who had the annoying habit of whispering to his crony across the aisle and giving her suspiciously leering looks during many a classroom session. Christine turned a furious red at this uncouth suggestion, and once again, with her very soul in her eyes, stared piteously at Henry Ferguson in a desperate attempt to obtain some kind of reprieve from the atrocious destiny she now understood awaited her.
"Meet my kid brother Joey," Ben Elverson drawled as he jerked his thumb towards the bespectacled youth. "That was my buck I gave him to give your cabbie, Christine baby, and I'm going to take it out in trade, see if I don't. Come on, Hank, are you gonna take all night to shag this cute little bitch? Why don't we just strip her down, get her over on the mattress and all of us give it to her?"
"Oh, my God-oh, no, I don't want you to-oh, please, have mercy-Henry, Henry, save me, please save me from them!" Christine Bernard wailed, in a state of near-hysteria. Desperately she wrenched at her bound wrists and ankles, but could make not the slightest headway against those expertly tied pinions.
Meanwhile, the two other boys pulled off their stocking masks also, and Christine, through her tear-blurred, dilated eyes, recognized the eighteen year-old Mack Benjamin and the seventeen-year-old black-haired Bruce Melton, both of them barely passing students in her English class and both given to boasting about their female conquests, sometimes in her very hearing as she stood at the desk while the pupils, breaking into groups and clusters, gossiping and talking about dates and future pleasures, slowly exited from the room.
Meanwhile Joey Elverson had gone to the other end of the windowless room to pick up the movie camera and prepare it for use; now he leaned back against the wall, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, taking in the scene with avid interest.
Tears running down her cheeks, her face flaming to the hair roots, Christine Bernard stared hopelessly at the smirking youth who still squatted before her, his pudgy fingers gliding slowly up and down her nylon-sheathed, quivering and tensing calves. "Oh, Henry, for God's sake, don't torture me like this-don't let them do this to me-I don't want them to-don't you understand-I never have-never, never, I wouldn't until I got married-please make them understand-"
"That won't do any good, Teach," he impatiently shook his head. Now his hands moved again to cup the dimpled curves of her stockinged knees, and this time edged just under her skirt and petticoat. A piercing shriek attested to Christine Bernard's frantic shame, and once again she twisted in the chair to avert this catastrophe.
"No, 'fraid not, Teach. You see," he resumed, choosing his words and savoring each of them as he stared up into her tear-stained, stricken, exquisite face, "this is today, not the ancient times you've been telling us about in class, Teach. Maybe when a girl had a cherry back in those days, it was a matter of life or death for her to save it. But not today, not with the pill and safes and all that sort of stuff. And it's not as if we didn't know how to take care of a broad like you, Teach. If you read that theme I handed in, you ought to have got a pretty good idea that I know how to shag a girl and make her love it. Now, you better make up your mind real fast, because the other guys are getting horny and impatient. Are you going to get up and take off all your clothes like we tell you to, or do we have to rip them off and give it to you the hard way-and I do mean hard!"
His cronies guffawed lubricously as they overheard this salacious pun, but poor Christine Bernard could only cower in the chair and stare at him with incredulous, hopeless eyes, her trembling lips forming the pathetic words, "Oh, please, no, don't-oh, please d-don't!"
"I'll give you just one chance. Maybe I can talk the guys out of it. After all, I was the one that had the idea-with a little help that you don't have to know about-and I found us a place so no one can bother us while we're having fun and games, Teach. Now suppose you were to do a striptease and spread just for me, maybe they would see you're going to cooperate and wouldn't want to pull a train on you. In case you don't know what a train is, Teach, it's sort of used in the leather gangs out on the West Coast where a new broad has to let all the guys fuck her before they take her in as a member. Understand?"
"Oh, no-oh, I'd rather die-I can't-I couldn't do such a thing-please-please don't hurr me-don't make me-oh, my God!" She burst into tears and bowed her head, her magnificent breasts heaving wildly with the wracking sobs of her atrocious dilemma and despair.
"You better hurry, Teach," he whispered again, and this time his hands slid under her skirt and petticoat to go halfway up her thighs. Even as she squealed frantically and lunged this way and that, trying to pull away from his caresses, he insisted, "I mean it, Teach! I can talk them out of all shagging you if you'll just put on a show for me and let them watch. That's your only way out, Teach, I mean it! If you don't come across with me, I won't be able to talk them out of ripping off all your duds and tieing you down on that mattress and making you take us all without any time off at all, get it? Hurry up now, what's your choice?"
For the first time in her virginal mature life, beautiful bespectacled Christine Bernard was faced with an insoluble dilemma, one which entailed not only the most terrifying moral nuances bur also an absolute physical abhorence of what was intended for her. Already, having just experienced the very first sexual manifestation from the man she had agreed to marry and finding it distasteful to her, pampered and sheltered virgin that she had been for so long, she now comprehended that what she wouldn't yield of her own volition, she would most likely be compelled to submit to by sheer brute young animal force.
"Hurry up now," he angrily urged, pinching the soft inner curves of her stockinged thighs, very hear the welt and where the tabs of her garrerbelt tenaciously clamped to hold those nylon sheaths without wrinkle on her delectably curvaceous legs.
"Ouch-oh, don't do that-oh, Henry, my God, Henry, how can I-you don't know what you're asking of me-oh, my God, don't let them touch me-don't let them hurt me-I-I'm afraid-" she could only whimper, her eyes rolling, sweat mingling with her tears as the agonized torment of her situation fully annihilated all her will.
Before the terrible threat of gang rape, her haughty, autocratic egoism had vanished; she was now a classic model of femininity at bay, confronted by the dreadful and ominous Scylla and Charybdis of surrender to the inevitable however much loathed or innumerable acts of sexual violence and degradation which could only contaminate her flesh as they destroyed her narcissistic pampered spirit.
"Well, what's it gonna me, Teach?" Henry Ferguson leaned forward towards the bound, seated victim, his hands sliding forward till they reached the welt on her sheer nylons, till Christine Bernard could feel his moist warm fingertips rub over the bare pink-and-white skin of her upper thighs. In a frenzy of shame and fright, she stiffened all her muscles in furious revolt, uttering a piercing cry, "Ohh, my G-God, oh take your hands away, Henry, don't do it to me, don't!"
But at the same moment the other four boys now moved towards the chair, surrounding her, and she could read on their leering faces only the inevitable and ruthless determination of their male rut. She was about to cross the Rubicon of degradation, a plaything-puppet for the precociously depraved desires of five teen-aged boys.
"Oh, wait, for God's sake, don't let them get me, H-Henry-if-if I do what you want-will you promise-will you make them stay away and not t-t-touch me?" she babbled in her stricken fright.
"Lemme talk to the guys and see, Christine baby. Trouble is, you waited too long to make your pick and now you got them all hot and bothered by now." Henry Ferguson straightened, turned to his cronies and winked, "Now look, guys, Chrissy here, you heard her, says she's never had a guy. You know how cherry is, touchy and squirmy and scared. Now suppose since I drew first turn with Chrissy anyway, she does what I tell her to and puts on a real nice sexy show for you guys. How about letting her off? We'll still take the movies and the Polaroids, and we'll all have prints and copies so we'll know what Teach is like in bed. After all, I'm here to tell you that a piece of cherry isn't always the best kind of lay. She'll be too scared to give you guys a real fucking, 'cause she's afraid you'll rough her up and hurt her. But if she does it with me and is real nice, what about giving her a break?"
"I don't know now," Mack shook his head dubiously, "we figured she'd put out for all of us guys, that was the deal when you talked about it, Hank."
"Yeah, it sure was," Bruce put in as he lit a cigarette.
"Well, you guys could feel her up and kiss her and stuff like that, and don't worry, I'll keep her busy till we let her go," Henry Ferguson boasted. "But look at it from her side for a change. How old are you, Teach, anyhow?"
Christine Bernard had listened to all this with mounting horror, for the nightmare had become even more fantastic and incredible. She faltered now, turning scarlet again and averting her face, "T-Twenty-five. Oh, please, please don't let them get me, please, Henry."
"You heard her, you guys. Just think, she's kept her cherry twenty-five years. Now it's going to take a big effort on Chrissy's part to make her break down and put out to me. And if I hadn't thought this scheme up and found this place, you guys would never have had a chance to see the show Chrissy and I are going to put on for you now. So what about it?"
"Well, we really don't want to get into trouble or go to jail over this cute piece of tail," Mack grudgingly agreed.
"All right, Hank, but she's gotta do whatever you want, or else we take over," Bruce warned.
"You hear that, Teach?" Henry Ferguson rose and, hands on hips, stared down at the trembling bespectacled young woman. "You've gotta do whatever I want, and no tricks, or the rest of the guys will really shag you good. Is it a deal? You behave, and they won't give it to you, just me. Well? Come on, you haven't got any more time to think. What's it to be, me or the gang?"
Trembling so violently that her teeth were chattering, Christine Bernard, her eyes tightly closed, panted out, "I-I'll take you, Henry, if you'll only keep them away from me. I-I'll do what you want-only please-please be g-gentle with me-I never have-oh, I'm so ashamed, I wish I could die!"
And then, bowing her head, she burst into hysterical sobs as the quintet of would-be rapists surrounded her, greedily eyeing her, each boy with his own special lust-image evoked by the sight of her helpless, vulnerable and virginal beauty.
CHAPTER FOUR
Henry Ferguson now took charge as master of ceremonies of the initiation of beautiful mature Christine Bernard. Turning to the four others, he announced triumphantly, "Okay, you heard her, she's going to act real nice just for me. You guys can watch, and we'll give Teach a break. I gave my word you wouldn't fool around if she put on a nice hot show just for me and that's the way it's going to be, understood?"
"Sure, get on with it," Ben Elverson impatiently urged, one hand surreptitiously rubbing his already swollen crotch. "Make her do a nice slow striptease, Hank. And no tricks, Teach, or you get laid by all us guys, savvy?"
Crushed, violently trembling, the bespectacled young woman could only nod helplessly as she comprehended the atrocious alternative which had been granted to her. Either to be the prey of all of them, to suffer their crude, rough mauling and violation, or to surrender, seemingly of her own free will, to this one precocious boy who unexpectedly had conjured up this nightmarish capture and incarceration in a windowless basement far on the outskirts of town with no one to help her.
And yet the thought of having to undress before all of them, to submit herself even to just one of them out of five, was almost agonized anathema for virginal, fearful Christine Bernard. If her dazed and bewildered mind could grope forward to any thought now other than what impended, she might have told herself how much better it would have been to have yielded to Henry Brandt and let him taste in advance the pleasures of a nuptial night rather than endure this odious, degrading martyrdom of her virginal, hitherto untouched, voluptuous body by these boys who had just emerged out of puberty and yet lusted for her even more audaciously than her own mature fiance. But all she could do, tormented by the sudden impatient silence which had fallen on this basement chamber, was to look up slowly and stare through eyes almost blinded by her own tears at the grinning face of Henry Ferguson who now took masterful charge of her. "I-I beg of you, H-Henry," she managed to quaver, "won't it be enough if-if I do-do what you want and you make them go away? You don't know how dreadful it is, to think of-to think of their watching while-oh, God, Henry, have pity on me, please have pity!"
"Look out now, Chrissy," Henry Ferguson mockingly warned, "you made a bargain and you're going to keep it. Otherwise, I won't be able to hold them off, understand? Now stand up. I'm going to untie you, but just your arms, so you can start taking off your clothes real nice and easy. Sure, they're going to watch. They're in on this, and they deserve some fun for the trouble and the danger. Make up your mind to it, Chrissy, it's that or you're going to take them on in turn just like they cut for deal. Now what's it going to be?"
So saying, he reached down, put his fingers into her tender armpits and hauled her to her feet. Christine Bernard uttered a strangled cry of shame at this first rude male contact with her pinioned body, then burst into hysterical sobs, her head bowed against his chest. He stood there, face flushed, eyes glittering with triumph, grinning at the eager, excited youths who clustered around to watch this titillating scene.
"It's going to be all right, Teach," he soothed, stroking her head with his left hand while his right moved along her side and then to a rounded, resilient hip, letting his fingers linger finally on the plump, firm summit of one of her buttocks and pressing intimately so that she understood the significance of his longing. Already, his organ was prodigiously thrusting boldly against the tight fly of the jeans. And even as she huddled against him, shrinking herself in a comprehensible ostrich-like way to vanish from this terrible menace of the aggressive young males who confronted her, she couldn't but feel the prodding of his sexual weapon against her lowed abdomen. For instinctively she uttered a strangled cry again, stepped back as much as her tied ankles would allow, and looked" up at him with an expression akin to horrified consternation and shamed despair.
He moved behind her, and expertly untied the rope cording her wrists. "Now then, take off that dress and then I'll tell you what to do next, Chrissy baby," he instructed in a hoarse, trembling voice.
Christine Bernard's harlequin glasses were misted with her tears, and her face was scarlet. She glanced just once at the pitiless, avid young faces all around her, and shuddered, violently. Then with a groan, she stooped slowly, caught up the hems of the blue rayon skirt and drew the garment slowly over her head, then let it fall to the floor. And then, as if aghast at the realization of what all this intended, she once again burst into choking sobs, her lovely dimpled shoulders quaking with her distraught emotions.
In the clinging nylon slip, which clung to her body adoringly and shaped out the wonderful curves of bosom and bottom, she inflamed them all. There were muttered oaths, "Jeez-she's really got a pair of knockers, Teach has-I'll say she has, and what a squirmy, cute little ass on her too!"
She couldn't help but hear these salaciously muttered praises of her virginal figure, and once again the cruel intention of her captors and would-be ravishers was brought home to her. With a groan, she clenched her fists and stared once again at Henry Ferguson.
"Now pull off that slip and throw it down on the dress, Teach. Let's see what you've got on then," was his next order.
Christine Bernard could hardly control the convulsive tremors which rippled through her petite, delectable contoured body. It was the very first time in her life that she was appearing in deshabille before the opposite sex; even her fiance hadn't seen ser so scantily garbed as she now was. And as again she sent a frantically appealing look to her young dominator, she could see the taut, flushed, excited faces of the other four youths who watched like predatory hawks ready to swoop down upon her and tear her to pieces if she didn't comply with their command. Her exquisite carnation-tinted skin prickled and flamed with innumerable blushes, and a deep sense of overwhelming shame took possession of her as her fingers plucked helplessly at the shoulder straps of the nylon slip, for she couldn't yet bring herself to appear in only her most intimate lingerie before these five young lusting males.
She glanced around nervously at the door through which she had been carried, but the bind of the rope around her ankles reminded her all too hopelessly of the impossibility of escape; even if she weren't tied, she could never hope to gain the door and then the street before these five strong teenagers would be upon her, ripping off the rest of her clothing, flinging her down upon the mattress and ravaging her like a pack of wolves falling upon a defenseless rabbit.
"Get with it, Teach, for Christ's sake!" Bruce Melton panted, rubbing his hands back and forth over his hips and shifting about nervously as his mounting lust began to demand fulfillment ... either visual at least, or, if their victim couldn't bring herself to comply, through actual coital possession of the trembling petite, mature and virgin Venus who cowered before them.
"Maybe she needs some help, huh, Hank?" Joey Elverson snickered, taking a step forward.
"Don't let them touch me, oh, please don't-I-I will-you promised-I-I'll do it-oh, you must give me time, this is so shameful for me-have mercy, oh, Henry, please don't let them touch me!" Christine Bernard clasping her hands in desperate prayer, her eyes brimming with tears, fixed on imploring gaze on the grinning teen-ager who had engineered her downfall.
"Keep back, you guys, can't you see that Chrissy is giving you a nice slow striptease? It's more fun this way, so don't rush her," Henry Ferguson drawled, and once again he winked at the leering youths who stood at Christine's right and waited, their eyes blazing with anticipation over the delicious sights of tempting virgin flesh which they longed to have unveiled before them.
"You better take off the slip, Teach," he told her. "You keep your word, I'll keep mine, they won't get you. Now come on, take it right off, pull it up over your head and drop it on top of your dress like a good sweet little bitch!"
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Christine Bernard dragged the nylon slip over her head and let it fall, then covered her face with her hands and wept unrestrainedly. To see her head bowed, the lovely page-boy curls tumbling about her tear-stained flushed cheeks, and to behold her in the exquisite and provocative attire of only bra and panty set with garterbelt and sheer nylons and her pumps, was to anticipate a sexual ecstasy such as these teenagers who prided themselves on their own meager experiences thus far, had never known before. They stared greedily at her, drinking her in with blazing eyes, their nostrils flaring and shrinking and their chests heaving, while each of them felt the swelling, aching throb of erection-a tribute to the beauty, the allure and the helpless femininity of their beautiful victim.
"Put your arms down at your sides, Teach," Henry Ferguson commanded in a hoarse voice, and with a whimpering sob the young woman obeyed, her head still bowed and her eyes tightly shut as if to banish the nightmarish vision of those leering faces in this windowless room which was to be her Golgotha of sexual martyrdom.
"Boy, is she stacked!" Bruce Melton gasped, pressing his right palm over his bulging organ which strained against the fly of his jeans.
The thin pink bra hugged the sumptuous high-perched widely spaced turrets of her maiden bosom, outlined the firm saucy prodding of her well-developed nipples, and even vaguely allowed the sight of the narrow love-circles in which those tender yet firm buds grew. It was a strapless bra, with a narrow bandeau tight against her beautifully dimple, hollowed back, opening by hooks and eyes. Her bare midriff was smooth and suave, and just above the waistband of the tightly clinging panties one could see the shallow wide nook of her navel, that exquisite niche which could inspire kisses and caresses of tongue and lips and fingers by the knowing amorist. Her mound of Venus was plump, and the panties snugged it, accentuating its sexual prominence; the thin gauzy material showed the shadows of the thickly abundant curls of her pubis, and it was there that the eyes of all five of her captures now lingered lustfully with a savage thrill of eager anticipation.
Henry Ferguson came forward now, knelt down behind her and began to untie the rope round her ankles. Startled by this maneuver, Christine Bernard uttered a frightened cry and glanced back at the kneeling youth.
"Relax, Teach," he chuckled, looking up at her. "You'll have to spread those sweet legs of yours to fuck, so I've gotta untie your ankles, don't I? Remember, you're doing this on your own, unless you want the other guys to take good care of you."
"Oh, now, oh, please don't let them, don't let them, Henry, I-I'll do what you want-only promise me-promise me you'll let me go then-oh, my God, how can I go on teaching after this-how can I face all of you in a classroom after-after-"
She couldn't finish. The immensity, the enormity, the shameful imminence of what awaited her drew all of the thoughts now. She could only sob helplessly, once again covering her lovely face with her hands and bowing her head as her body trembled before them. It wasn't pity which she inspired with this helplessness; it was growing, implacable and ruthless lust.
"Okay," Henry Ferguson's voice was soft and meaningful, "now grab the back of your neck with your hands and stick those bombers out for us like a good sweet girl, Teach!"
Christine Bernard shuddered. She stared supplicatingly at her young executioner, but the glint of determination in his eyes and the tightness of his mouth told her that there would be no reprieve. With a little whimpering gasp, she slowly brought her hands up behind her and clasped her neck, keeping her eyes closed. She couldn't help swaying as tremor upon tremor rippled through her delectable body at the knowledge that each new step was a further one along the pathway to total degradation and humiliation.
"Cripes, that bra is gonna bust-just look at those knockers stick out!" Ben Elverson blurted in a thick, trembling voice. "Make her take it off, Hank!"
"She will, don't go off in your pants," was Henry Ferguson's complacent reply. "Now turn around slowly, Teach. And stick your elbows out more to the sides. We want to see your tits."
His crude words, contrasting so violently with the elegantly erotic tone of that damnable theme, made a new crimson blush burn her tear-stained cheeks. But she obeyed, numb with hopelessness, praying only that this ordeal would be ended and that at last she would be free to escape this oppressive, low-ceilinged, windowless room in which she was destined to sacrifice her long-preserved and fearful maidenhead.
Her elbows thrust out to maximum, and the pink bra became a second skin, emphasizing the projection of her pert nipples, deepening the magnificent firmness of those high-perched, widely spaced love-globes. She could hear the others suck in their breath, could hear them gasp and mutter among themselves, and knew that she was obscenely on display, the object of their pitiless and defaming lust-desires. Her legs felt weak beneath her, and it was only by sheer effort that she forced herself to. stand and to model as an expensive whore might do before perverse and expensive clients who would pay a high fee to enjoy in their own demeaning way the most secret charms she had to offer.
"Turn around again and slower this time, Teach, huh?" Once again, Henry Ferguson's voice broke in upon her agonized and reeling consciousness.
"Oh-pi-please, Henry, don't torture me like this-I beg of you-I-I said I'd do what you want, don't humiliate me like this in front of all those others, please!" she groaned, as new tears began to run down her scarlet cheeks.
"Any time you don't want to go through with the bargain you made, Chrissy, the other guys will take over, see?" was his incisive response. "Now get with it, just the way I said. Slow and easy, you're up on a stage in front of a big fashion-show audience, and they came a long way to see what you've got. Show it to them, Teach!"
"Ohh-you're hateful-if only you knew-"
"Is she going to do what you want or not. Hank? I'm getting tired of this, and I wanna fuck!" Bruce Melton burst out.
"Oh, she's going to do it, all right, Bruce. Don't forget, this is her first time. You'll see Teach get fucked, I can promise you that," dimly as in a hideous dream from which she couldn't wake she heard her young executioner boats-fully declare. But the fear of being manhandled and raped by the other four youths spurred her to obedience; slowly, still keeping her elbows tautly akimbo and her hands twisting at the back of her perspiring neck, the bespectacled beauty turned in a slow and complete circle.
"Make her strip bare-ass, Henry, fer crissake!" Ben Elverson hissed, clenching his fists, his penis jabbing rigidly against the taut fly of his jeans and his eyes narrowed to glinting pinpoints.
"You're in no shape to fuck a broad like Teach, Ben," Henry Ferguson turned back to his crony with a reproving grin. "You'd go off in your pants the first time you touched your cock to that soft little hairy slit of hers. Look at you, up tight like a drum. Now the way to bang a cherry like Teach is nice and slow and easy, just the way I'm going to show you guys how to do it. So hold your water."
Christine Bernard couldn't believe that this reticent, soft-spoken and almost shy boy in her class was the very one who had engineered this deception and captivity of her person, the very one to whom she had just agreed to surrender her maidenhead to save herself from mass rape. Her jaw dropped as she stared at him incredulously. But, sensing her mood, he now turned back to her, "Now you might as well take off that bra, Teach. Give the boys a thrill now, but do it nice and slow. Go ahead!"
Tears blinded her eyes again. "Oh, Henry, you know this is shameful-please have mercy on me-I-I promise I won't tell anybody if you'll just let me go home now-"
"You see, Hank!" It was Bruce Melton in an angry voice. "She doesn't wanna go through with it. Let's us guys drag her over to the cot there and screw the shit out of her, that'll teach her."
"Not yet. Chrissy is going to behave herself, or else I'll take her over my knee, pull down her cute little panties and spank her bare ass," Henry Ferguson drawled. He watched Christine Bernard's scarlet, contorted face as the lewd words sank into her reeling mind, and grinned again, satisfied with the effect. "Take off the bra, Teach, I mean it. If you don't keep your word, I won't be able to hold them back and you know it."
She turned to one side, fighting tears and hysteria, and her hands tremblingly reached behind her back to fumble for the hooks and eyes of the bandeau. At last she unfastened the thin straps, but reluctantly pressed her fingers over them, trying to put off till the last possible moment the atrocious humiliation of exposing her most intimate parts to these deliciously profaning eyes.
"Let go of it, Teach, or we'll rip it off!" Mack Benjamin angrily demanded.
Christine Bernard was conquered by fear. She let her hands fall helplessly to her sides, bowed her head again as the pink bra fluttered to the floor. And once again she heard the collective gasp of her five unwanted male admirers. Her fingernails drove into her perspiring palms, as she fought the instinct to conceal herself, for by now she understood that such a gesture wouldn't only be ridiculed but also at once punished to intensify her mounting shame and humiliation.
Her breasts were bare now, and with every shuddering breath they moved, vibrant and palpitating and exquisitely alive. The firm, audaciously set round globes with the narrow halos of dark-coral hue setting off the smooth purity of the carnation-tinted skin. The nipples crinkly and slightly firm-but out of an emotion of fear, not at all from sensual excitement. They were breasts that needed no bra and now exuberantly and gratefully paraded their naked free-dam before the dazzled eyes of the five avid youths.
"Now walk around a little, your hands on your hips, Chrissy," Henry Ferguson instructed. "And smile at us, or we'll think you're not at all friendly and not ready to cooperate. Remember the bargain you made, you have gotta keep it now by doing exactly what I tell you to-or else!"
She stared dumbly at him, having learned by now the utter futility of argument or discussion. A kind of stoic, resigned defiance took hold of her now, as she thought that by acquiescing to his rude young lust, she might indeed save herself the ignominy and degradation of surrender to his four merciless young cronies. And that was why, blinking her eyes clear them of the hot tears that came unbidden, Christine Bernard put her hands on her hips, straightened and began to walk slowly around the windowless room which would soon become her nuptial chamber in this unholy capitulation to animal passion which all her life till now she had been able to escape, even with her own fiance.
Their eyes devoured the rippling tremors that surged along her stockinged calves and thighs, admiring the flexions of the sinuously sleek contours of her calves and the exquisite dimpled hollows of her knees, then the graceful, delectably rounding columns of her thighs which in their turn merged into the succulent rotundities of her voluptuous bottom. Too, they stared at the dark triangle at the very apex of her panties where those lovely thighs merged into her loins, wanting her naked now and by sublimational yearning each in turn already coupling with her, flesh to hot trembling virgin flesh.
As she moved, her naked breasts jiggled with a marvelous elasticity, and she tried to close her ears to the salacious comments of praise and passionate desire which those crude words detailed, "Boy, wouldn't I like to get my hands on those sweet tits of Chrissy's-you said it, but I'd rather have my cock stuck in that hairy little nest of hers right there between her legs-you can see it through her panties! There's a broad that doesn't shave, ha ha!-Wow! She's gonna make me jack off before she even gets bare, that teasing cunt is!"
It seemed an eternity before at last Henry Ferguson resumed his instructions to the half-naked, trembling shamed young woman, "Well, you might as well take your panties off now, too baby. But you can leave on that garterbelt and your nylons and heels. That way, you won't be bare-ass naked. It'll save some of your modesty. See how nice we're treating you, Teach?"
And the chorus of hoarse guffaws which greeted this indecent and ironic sally made the tears start again and lashed Christine Bernard like a whip as she covered her face with her hands and again began to cry very softly in her desolate despair and overwhelming shame.
CHAPTER FIVE
Henry Ferguson jerked down the zipper of the fly of his jeans, then unbuttoned his shorts and let his bulging penis emerge. It was commandably long and thick, the plum-shaped glans set off from the dark-veined turgid shaft by a broad shallow circumcisional groove. The lips of the meatus twitched and puckered with fervent anticipation of its imminent sequestering within the virginal core of the half-nude mature young woman. His companions regarded him with whistles of admiration and lewd exhortations, "It's about time we saw some action-give it to her good and fuck her an extra one for me, Hank-wonder if that cute little cunt of hers can take a dong that big!"
Calmly, his eyes fixed on the trembling, cowering bespectacled victim, Henry Ferguson delved into his jeans pocket and took out a safe, then hoarsely ordered. "All right, Chrissy, get those panties off and walk over there to the mattress. We're going to give the guys a show, just like you promised. Be quick about it now, or they'll help you get there, savvy?"
Christine Bernard uttered a stifled cry of consternation as, drawing her hands away from her tear-stained face, she saw the object which was about to pillage her long-preserved maidenhead. Her eyes widened with stupefaction as if she couldn't believe that so young a boy could manifest such menacing virility. Then, her voice choking, scarcely audible, she gasped, "Oh, my G-God, please-I-I'll let you-only send them out of here-oh, please spare me that at least, please H-Henry!"
"Oh, no you don't, Teach!" Bruce Melton snarled. "That's not part of the deal. We get to see Hank screw you, so just get ready to spread for our buddy or we'll take over right now!"
"You heard them, Teach," Henry Ferguson now fitted the safe over his swollen sexual weapon, drawing the sheer white prophylactic down as far as it would go. "Hurry up, I'm all ready to give it to you, baby. Let's see what you've got to take it with-off with those panties right now!"
There was no help for it. Her face burning with shame, turning aside in a last pathetic effort to shield herself from all those hostil eyes, Christine Bernard hooked her trembling thumbs into the waistband of the pink panties and slowly tugged them down to the lower abdomen; pausing, in a last frantic prayer for reprieve which didn't come, she uttered another groan and then, stooping a little, pulled them down past her mount and let them slither to her slim ankles. Stepping out of them, she at once clamped both hands over the thickly furred cleft of her virginal femininity.
Now the whistles were loud and racous, for she was even more lasciviously exciting in garterbelt, hose and pumps than if she had been Eve-naked.
"Make her take her hands away, Hank, we wanna see pussy!" Ben Elverson urged, his eyes shining with lust as they swept Christine Bernard's pink-sheened back and dimpled, upstandingly rounded, quivering buttocks.
"Put your hands on your hips, Teach, and walk over to the mattress. Come on now," Henry Ferguson ordered as he moved towards the trembling scarlet-faced and nearly faiting victim.
Sobbing disconsolately, her head bowed, Christine Bernard adopted that demeaning pose, and with lagging footsteps moved towards the box frame and mattress in the corner of the room. As she reached it, she sat down on the edge, her thighs clenched together, leaning over with one hand still pressed over her pubis, the other arm crooked over her heaving naked breasts, and began to cry.
The sight of her helpless near-nakedness and the nuance of the harlequin glasses seemed to rouse the carnal passions of her captors all the more. They moved near the mattress, leaning against the wall and following every step of this drama with unwavering, panting interest as Henry Ferguson sat down at her right and put his left arm around her waist. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it, Teach?" he taunted. "Just lie down and get ready, and I'll do the work. You can close your eyes if you want to, but they're going to watch just to make sure you keep your promise. First, though, how's about a little kiss?"
"Oh, I can't-I can't-oh, don't ask me such a dreadful thing-oh, just-just-do what you have to do and let me get out of this awful place, please, H-Henry!" Cris-tine Bernard's voice was almost breaking with hysteria, for her stoicism and resistance were virtually at an end.
"Okay, forget the kiss, but get over there on your back and get ready then," Henry Ferguson said. Roughly grasping her naked shoulders, he pushed backwards. With a cry of shame and despair, Christine Bernard passively let herself be thrust on her back, at once turning her face to the wall and closing her eyes as tightly as she could, while her hands became clenched fists of anguished submission. Yet she kept her thighs tightly compressed, in a last understandable effort to retain the prize of her femininity which she had preserved for twenty-five years.
"Give it to her, screw her good, Hank!" Joey Elverson gasped, drawing down the zipper of his own jeans, delving his hand inside his shorts and slyly beginning to masturbate in his excitement.
Henry Ferguson knelt on the mattress, bent towards the whimpering captive, his left hand clutching one of her heaving bare breasts, while his right palm smoothed along her trembling belly and down to the luxuriant dark-brown fleece of her mount. "Open wide, Teach," he mocked, and loud jeers greeted this lascivious order.
"Oh, don't-please, Henry, I can't-I've never-oh, please, have mercy on me-don't r-ruin me-oh, I'm begging you, I'll do anything-but please not this way-please-" she whimpered.
"Would you rather have the other guys give it to you, all four of them one after the other, then, Teach?"
"Oh, my God no!" she wailed.
"Then shut up and spread! You're going to get fucked, so make up your mind to it. It's going to be me or all the others. You've got your choice and you made it. Now get with it, Teach!" he commanded. Then, with right thumb and forefinger, he pinched the tender inside of her left thigh, and Christine Bernard squealed and promptly relaxed the tension of her quivering legs, allowing him access.
Instantly he planted his left knee between her thighs and then, with both hands shoving her legs apart, inserted his other knee so that he was forcibly and masterfully planted over her. Now, both hands free to caress and squeeze her heaving breasts, he bent down and kissed her on the cheek in a kind of mock wooing.
Christine Bernard moaned and twisted her face still farther away, till they could see the cords of her slim neck stand out against the soft pink skin. Her fingernails had dug into her palms, and she thrust her fists down hard against the dirty mattress as she prepared herself for the destructive profanation of her maidenhead. The youth mounted above her, his penis thrust out boldly and glistering in the white prophylactic sheath, stared hungrily at her luscious naked charms of bosom and belly and thick-fleeced Venus.
"Boy, what a juicy little pussy Teach has got!" Mack Benjamin breathed as he moved to the head of the box frame for a better view, looking down enviously at Christine Bernard's contorted, averted face.
Henry Ferguson's right forefinger now playfully rubbed her navel, then descended towards the thick curls of her mount.
"Oh, G-God-oh, H-Henry, I'm begging you-get it over with-oh, I can't stand much more of this-have m-mercy-I'm begging you, Henry-don't shame me like this, please!" the victim wailed.
But inexorably his forefinger delved into the thick curl' and touched at last the soft palpitating pink petals of the outer labia of her womancore.
Christine Bernard sucked in her breath and stiffened then twisted her face to stare at him with horrified, beseeching eyes. His finger continued, tickling the fleshy rims of her slit, and then at last moving towards the labia minora till at last he delicately prodded the dainty nodule of her clitoris.
A shrill scream broke from the victim, as she clapped both hands against her threatened mount, pushing away his as she burst into hysterical sobs, "Oh, no-no, please not like this-not with them watching-do it--I'm begging you-oh, this is dreadful, I can't stand it, I just can't!"
"You want me to have them hold your arms and legs so I can fuck you good, Teach?" he threatened.
She shook her head, tears running down her scarlet cheeks.
"Then shut up and take your hands away and get ready," was his ruthless response.
And when she had obeyed, his forefinger deliberately returned to the sensitive button of her clitoris, the lodestone of her innermost and deepest emotions, and began to touch and rub and palpate it.
Grinding her teeth together, her face once again twisted as far away as she could, Christine Bernard writhed and squirmed, trying desperately to control herself against the onrush of never-before-experienced sensations. She realized that as they stared at her, they could see each bodily reaction, each tremoring spasm which his obscene caressing evoked. And to her, this loomed even more momentously than the imminent rape itself, for it degraded her and took her down from the pedistal of unattainable femininity of which she had been so proud all these years. No longer was she the teacher-image for these youths, but instead a shamefully naked plaything for their sexual fantasies.
Now slyly he pushed his forefinger into the channelway, till he found the obstruction which proved her purity. "She's cherry, all right, you guys!" he jubilantly announced. "And now I'm going to bust it for her! All right, Chris, put your knees up and spread them as far apart as you can. Get ready for a fucking, Teach baby!"
Weeping bitterly, crushed and destroyed in her moral sanctity, the victimized young woman disconsolately obeyed. Her knees rose and widened, yawning the gape of her soft pink slit. And Henry Ferguson, settling himself over her, reached his hands under her jouncy carnation-skinned bottom to squeeze the resilient cheeks as he pressed his condom-sheathed penis against the beckoning gap!
She started convulsively as she felt this first profanation of the male. Her head rose and her eyes widened as she stared up into his twisted face. Then, as he pushed forward again, her hands thrust hard against his shoulders and she uttered a shrill cry, "Oh, God-you're hurting me-oh, please, take it out!"
Only jeering laughter from the others answered to that piteous appeal. And Henry Ferguson, digging his fingers hard into her satiny naked behind, lunged home and felt her hymen rent asunder as he hiked himself to his very testicles and mastered Christine Bernard's long-retained maidenhead at last!
CHAPTER SIX
Christine Bernard's exquisite face was contorted and flushed, still twisted towards the wall to block out from her vision the sight of her four leering onlookers while the smirking seventeen-year-old perpetrator of this obscene outrage against her chastity and sacrosanct person lay over her, crushing down her petite nakedness with his condom-sheathed penis burrowed to the very hilt inside her tight love-chasm. The sudden fierce pain which had accompanied the rending of her hymen had drawn a sharp sobbing cry; she had lifted her head, and in the hazy blur formed by the tears in her dilated eyes, she had witnessed how her captors were relishing her maiden defeat.
Henry Ferguson, his fingers dug deeply into the resilient satiny cheeks of her bare bottom, his thighs strongly planted between her straddled legs, was master of the lists of lust. He had conquered where no man ever had before, not even Henry Brandt, not even the unknown men far more mature than he who had longingly looked after Christine Bernard in the street and dreamed their own special and fanciful lust-illusions in which she played the role of captive queen.
Now that the physical act was accomplished, what rational sense was left her after the shattering and unexpected terror of finding herself so nearly and helplessly trapped by five teen-aged students told her that fate was now irrevocable. She had prided herself on her virginity, held it as a kind of secret chalice which would be awarded only to him win should marry her and then that fortunate male would be made to realize how much he had gained in the triumph. But this was farthest from her own narcissistic fantasies of how she would rule over men and chose ultimately the one whom she would deign to favor with the gift of her virginity. It was not on a canopied, four-poster bed with the room smelling of perfume and cologne, strewn with bridal gifts, with a tankard of fine champagne cooling in a silver bucket. There was no handsome groom, no man who had professed the vows of eternal obedience, fealty and adoration before the priest at the altar.
Instead, in a windowless basement, on a torn and dirty mattress atop an iron frame, in the corner, with a kind of claustrophobic agony looming upon her as she saw four teen-aged boys stare at what their crony was doing to her, Christine Bernard had just yielded up her hymen.
"How is ir, Hank?" towheaded, sturdy Mack Benjamin hoarsely demanded.
"She's tight as a drum, you guys, so shut up and let me concentrate on fucking her good her very first time," was Henry Ferguson's gloating reply. Christine moaned, hearing this new appraisal of her most intimate physical self, and tears squeezed under her tightly shut eyelids. The twinges of pain from the laceration of her maidenhead had now forced her, even against her will, to be aware of this act of gross, undignified physical cohesion; she could no longer remain impervious even in her mind, she could no longer disperse what was happening by telling herself that it was not. Now her own body betrayed her into realization of her degradation as the concubine of this incredibly precocious, atavistic boy.
Henry Ferguson had wisely, with the instinct of a mature adult connoisseur of feminine pulchritude, halted his pace inside her love-chanal. He, better than anyone else, was aware of the pitfalls of overexcitement. Now that his brooding lust-wish about his beautiful young teacher had been crystallized into an exciting reality, now that she had come from her classroom where she was poised and supercilious and even arrogant before all these thwarted young males, to this basement where she was naked except for garterbelt, hose and pumps and to have to submit to coitus with one of her own pupils, he knew that at any moment the glorious triumph of conquering her might force him to a premature ejaculation and thus undermine his own success. It was his intention to subject beautiful Christine Bernard to every possible nuance of shame and humiliation and sexual compliance against her will, so that no longer would she be the vaunted goddess atop a pedestal at whom he and his fellows could only stand and yearningly look upon without hope of fulfilling their most carnal dreams regarding her voluptuous body.
She had dug the heels of her pumps into the mattress, and her calf muscles stood out and rippled and flexed under the sheer beige nylons. Her face was still twisted away towards the wall, and her fists pressed down hard against the lumpy mattress. But overwhelming all her outward attitude of stoic and almost resigned endurance of this atrocious ordeal was the continuing twinge of pain at the opening of her secret love-core. His halting within her, still buried to the roots into her vaginal canal, intensified her inexorable awareness of her irreparable loss of chastity, dignity and, most damaging of all, of feminine ego which had for so long lorded it over the yearning but unsuccessful male.
But perhaps worst of all was his audacious way of clinging to her, his pudgy fingers clenched into the ripe rounds of her satiny pink-sheened bottomcheeks, so that each muscular reaction, each tremoring spasm which passed through her body was felt by his gripping fingers and served to tell this obscene young ravisher of the distress and humiliation and martyrdom she was undergoing.
"What are you waiting for, Christine?" Bruce Melton sarcastically broke in. "Go on and fuck her, let's see you fuck her and make her wiggle good, Hank! If you don't know how, maybe you ought to get off and let us guys take over!"
"Oh, no-my God no-oh, you promised, H-Henry!" Christine wailed, stricken by this dire threat.
"Relax, Chrissy," Henry Ferguson chuckled, his voice thick with longing, breathing hard and forcing himself to hold back the frenzied urge to climax. The very tightening of her vaginal muscles against his sheathed penis led him towards the vety brink of shattering expenditure. And he determined to retain himself to the ultimate moment until at last haughty Christine Bernard would have to acknowledge him the victor in this fornicatory fray. "You just concentrate on giving me a good time, and you won't have to worry. You just do what I tell you to, and we'll get along just fine. All right, Joey, Starr using the movie camera. Teach, put your arms around me, hug me tight-go on, or I will get off and turn you over to the guys!"
"Oh, how can you be so cruel? Isn't there a spark of decency in you, Henry? Please don't-don't take pictures of this-oh, I'd die if anyone ever saw them-this is horrible!" she moaned.
"Too bad we don't have a tape recorder so we could keep a copy of everything Teach says along with the pictures," Ben Elverson smirkingly proposed. He was rubbing his swollen penis, his face flushed and his eyes glittering as he leaned against the wall and stared hungrily down at the entwined couple.
Joey Elverson adjusted the lens of the movie camera, and called, "I'm ready when you are, Hank!"
"Okay, Teach, do what I said now, put your arms around me. And wrap your legs around mine too while you're at it!" Henry Ferguson directed.
"Oh, please-" she falteringly began, her voice choked with tears and sobs.
"You start whining any more, Chrissy baby, and the other four guys will take my place right now," he warned.
With a cry of terror, Christine Bernard capitulated. Still keeping her face turned towards the wall, she awkwardly circled her arms around her ravisher's shoulders, and her stockinged legs locked over his muscular calves. The whir of the camera came to her ears clearly now, and she groaned aloud in her despair, knowing what that sound portended.
"That's more like it, Teach," her stocky young ravisher mockingly approved, his hands shifting down to the base of her quivering, flinching bare buttocks. "But now I want you to give me a nice sweet little kiss to show you like it, Chrissy. Go on now, remember what I told you; the minute you start getting balky, the other guys take over, see?"
She forced to turn her face towards him, to open her eyes, brimming with tears, her nostrils twitching and shrinking, her lips trembling and the desolate and imploring look she fixed upon him also made him lose his self-control. He had to grind his teeth to hold back the savage onrush of gism, and his fingers dug into the resilient satiny flesh of her behind. Mistaking this fierce pressure for a threat of what she most feared, Christine Bernard uttered another groan and then obeyed-with her trembling lips, she pressed a hesitant kiss on Henry Ferguson's greedy mouth.
And the whirring of the camera told her that this too had been inscribed, and indelible and perpetual reminder of her ignominous downfall from virtue and purity and chastity!
"Boy, oh boy!" Bruce Melton breathed, "Teach is giving me the hots! Just look at the way those cute legs of hers are wrapped around old Hank there, the lucky bastard! Go on, make her shake that cute little ass she's got, Hank, put it to her!"
"Yeah, go ahead and cuke Teach, let's see how good you are," Mack Benjamin exhorted in a hoarse trembling voice.
Henry Ferguson was more than willing. Now his hands slid up the lusciously upstandingly rounded cheeks of his victim's naked bottom, took tenacious hold of the meatiest curves of those lovely posterior summits, and he shifted himself a little so as to drive into her at a better angle, thereby to waken her with the friction of his organ against the sides of her vaginal track. Drawing himself slowly back, he wrested a sobbing, "Oh, please, t-take it easy-it-it hurts-oh, please H-Henry, please be g-gentle with me, I beg of you!"
"What's the matter, Teach?" Ben Elverson jibed, "starting to itch down in that prissy little twat of yours? Make her cum, Hank, you promised us a good fuck, let's see if you can make Teach cum! Then we'll know you're a real cocksmith!"
Christine Bernard's eyes were huge with agonized consternation to hear her young captors so ruthlessly and coarsely discuss her sexual potential. Even if she had married Henry Brandt, she know that she would have insisted on the lights out and an absolute minimum of sensual byplay. She would have yielded because it would have been her wifely duty, but she would have minimized her surrender. Thus she could have retained part of her aloof and poised sophistry, and yet still have fulfilled the terms of the marital contract. But this was so vastly divergent to all her own beliefs and her conditioned awareness of sex that each new facet of this dreadful ordeal made her entire psyche and ego totter upon their very foundation.
By now, Henry Ferguson, steadying himself and with his fingers dug masterfully into the summits of Christine Bernard's behind, had poised his organ at the very rim of her love-channel. Just at the brink of the inner lips, the sheathed tip of his adamantly rigid organ pressed, and now signaling to her that he intended to resume copulation, his fingers compressed even more rigorously into her naked behind. At the same moment, he lunged deeply, furrowing her to his very root, and Christine Bernard's body instinctively and uncontrollably arched like a bow, her knees splaying widely to each side to frame his overweighting body, her fingernails driving into his shoulders, her head tilting back and her eyes rolling in their sockets as she comprehended the inexorable destiny of her virginal loss.
Her loud groan, wordless but poignant, excited the young onlookers. Joey Elverson had by this time emerged his swollen organ, and was unashamedly squeezing it, the thumbpad pressed tightly over the twitching lips of the meatus to hold back his fervent essence. By now, too, Ben and Mack and Bruce had opened their jeans and released their own savagely turgid sex weapons, as if wishing by this means to participate in their crony's carnal conquest of Christine.
Now Henry Ferguson's left hand shifted out from under her bottom, only to clamp upon her right bare breast, and again she cried out in her despairing knowledge of the total liberties he was so heinously taking with her hitherto untouched naked body. The camera faithfully recorded this maneuver also, as Joey, working the camera with his right hand, continued to cup and squeeze his aching penis with the other.
"Oh, for God's sake, get it over with, I'm dying of shame, please finish, Henry please, please let me go, oh, do end it!" Christine Bernard brokenly whispered.
But he ignored her agonized supplication. By now, even his own remarkable self-control was waning from the glorious victory over this haughty and supercilious young beauty. He drew himself back, only to plunge to the very depths again, then withdrew, then thrust home once more. Shaken by the twinges which his penetrations evoked in her tender cleft, the bespectacled young woman sobbed and groaned, writhing beneath him. Her knees clamped together, then spread hugely, as her body was shaken by multiple tremors.
"You're getting Teach real hot, just look at net shake her sweet ass!" Ben Elverson panted.
Henry Ferguson lowered his head and fused his lips on his victim's left nipple, while his left hand squeezed and massaged her other naked breast. His right hand now shifted again, palming right over the narrow crease between her but-tocks, as he prepared for the final onslaught. Grinding his teeth, closing his eyes, holding himself back till the very final moment, he quickened his pace inside of her. He thrust, withdrew, then thrust again, drawing back almost to the rims of her twitching love-lips, and then with a final thrust, felt himself unable to hold back the breaking dam of his restraint. Lifting his face, twisting in ecstasy and agony which is the culmination of sexual longing, the seventeen-year-old youth uttered a hoarse bellow of delight, "Ohhh, Jeez, I'm going off, get ready, Chrissy baby, here I come!"
And as he thrust the final time, his body jerked and quaked, his mouth clamped down again on her swollen nipple-bud, his other hand pitilessly squeezing her heaving breast, while he felt himself explode into the protective sheath and lay there panting and sagging with completion.
She writhed and moaned under him, her eyes mad with shame and suffering. The constant and rough friction of his organ, however protected by the condom, had rasped the delicate mucous membrane of her love-sheath to an irritated sensitivity which attacked all her nerves and shattered what stoicism she had been able to retain thus far.
Her shrill cry merged with his bellow now and as she felt his weight crush down upon her in his own fulfillment, her body remained quivering and vibrant, not yet released from the erotic tension, but not yet arrived at its release.
"Got it all!" Joey Elverson hoarsely panted. He laid down the camera, and then began to masturbate wildly with both hands, uttering a cry and catching his own spermatic outpouring in his palms as he stared greedily at the stricken, sprawled young woman on the dirty mattress.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Henry Ferguson suddenly drew himself out of the sprawled, shuddering, almost naked young woman and rose from the mattress. His four companions stared lustfully at Christine Bernard's exquisite pink-and-white skinned beauty rendered all the more provocative by the taut, clambering, sheer beige nylon hose and the narrow tabs of her white satin-elastic garterbelt which cinched so lovingly around her waist, then back at his dwindled organ in the no longer white prophylactic sheath. For it was stained by the blood of her sacrifice to Priapus, the undeniable proof of her verginity at the extremely advanced age of twenty-five. This seventeen-year-old boy had, by the simple act of coitus, turned her into a full-fl-edged woman!
She lay there trembling and gasping, shaken by the force of his violent conquest of her body, till at last realization came to her that she was the object of all eyes. Even he had turned back to stare, hands on his hips, in a swaggering attitude that spoke of his arrogant victory over his own beautiful young teacher.
"Boy, wouldn't I like a piece of that!" Mack Benjamin hoarsely muttered, nudging Bruce Melton in the ribs. "Look at that little pink slit of hers, all juicy and wide open now after what Hank gave it! I bet he stretched it good for us!"
Vaguely Christine Bernard heard these words, and the terrifying threat of a repeated violation brought her back to a horrified consciousness. Planting one palm on the mattress, she managed to sit up, at once concealing her deflorated mount with the other hand as she gasped, "Oh, no-Henry you promised you wouldn't let them-not if I did-what you wanted-oh, my God-let me get dressed and go now, I'm begging you, oh, please let it be over! I-I swear-I-I won't tell anyone about this, if you'll only let me go now!"
But in her mind even more strikingly now there loomed the horrifying dilemma of how she would continue her life and her career. How could she go back on Monday to face these jeering youths who had mocked and taunted her, watched her forced to undress herself and yield her body to one of them? It would take only a whispered rumor, and she would be the laughingstock of the entire campus. There would be obscene phone calls, anonymous letters asking for an assignation, waiting to have what so and so enjoyed.
She was utterly annihilated by this reasoning, which came as a pitiless aftermath into her conscious mind now that the physical destruction of her chastity had been achieved. She had crossed the Rubicon of degradation and shame, and there was nothing that could keep her from being destroyed by their vile intimations, their gossip as boys gossip among boys and boast of the females they have savored. Only this time, it wouldn't be a product of fantasy or wishful thinking; it would be an actual fact: she, Christine Bernard, teacher of English Literature, had actually gone to bed with one of her youngest students and let him have the rights of a husband over her!
"Don't worry, Chrissy, they won't bother you unless I tell them to," Henry Ferguson chuckled. "Now why don't you go to the John and tidy up? Besides, it's time for chow. Joey, use the camera on Teach here because I want a shot of her walking to the John with that cute tail of hers squirming around before she gets there. And then you go find a hamburger joint and bring us back the works, savvy? Hey, Chrissy, how many hamburgers are you good for?"
"I don't know about the hamburgers, but boy, I got a wiener here that's just ready for popping into Teach's little steam cooker!" Ben Elverson leeringly declared.
Christine Bernard shrank back, her eyes enormous behind the harlequin glasses. "Oh, please-I don't want anything-I just want to dress and go-please let me go now, Henry, you promised-"
"I didn't promise you anything except that I'd hold the guys off if you gave me a good time, Teach" he coldly interrupted. "I'm not finished with you yet. You ever hear of seconds? Now the John is behind that door right over there-" he jerked his thumb in the direction. "Go freshen up. There's a washbasin there and you can sit on the throne if you have to, and there's a towel to wash all over. Even some soap. We planned everything nice and ready for you, Teach, all the comforts of home, and nobody's going to know about this except just us. And of course the movie camera, don't forget that."
She stared up at him, not believing her ears. Tears again began to well to her eyes, and her voice shook as she unsteadily tried to reason with him, to implore mercy. "Oh, please-how can you-how can you possibly enjoy anything when you know that I-that I find it so horrible and shameful and disgusting? Please, I can't possibly-to use your own awful words-be more cooperative than-than this-oh, do let me go now, in the name of decency!"
"Maybe Teach is shy now, maybe she doesn't want us to know that she has to use the John just like anybody else," Mack Benjamin now suggested. "Maybe we ought to give her an escorted tour and even wash her all over, huh?"
"Oh no! Oh, my God, don't any of you touch me again, I'd just die! I-I'll go by myself-oh, please, give me back my clothes, Henry!"
"What's the use? I told you, I'm not ready to let you go yet. Why, we're only just beginning to get to know each other real nice, Teach," he sardonically countered. "You just get in there and wash up, then Joey'll bring you something to eat, and then we'll have some more fun. After that, we'll talk about when you can leave."
Again he pointed to the door, taking a menacing step back towards the mattress. Christine Bernard uttered a cry and got to her feet, still holding her palms up against her pubis. Then, crooking her other arm over her heaving naked breasts, she awkwardly moved towards the door he had indicated. All five boys stared at her entranced; their eyes fixed unerringly on the jouncy, upstandingly rounded, pink-sheened cheeks of her bottom which shifted and undulated, at times diminishing the narrow ambery-rosy crease between the hillocks, at other times giving a most salacious glimpse of the wider, more mysterious sinuosity of the perineal area which led to both her temples of delight.
Her dark-brown pageboy curls were tumbled over one cheek, and she had had to grope for her pumps with her stockinged toes because, during the act of intercourse to which she had unwillingly yielded with Henry Ferguson, both the trim black leather pumps had been kicked off and fallen to the floor. Leaning forward to retrieve the pumps, with her dainty toes, she had unwittingly exposed the jiggling globes of her naked breasts to their avid eyes, affording them still another lust-image to retain in the indelible camera of their minds, one they would remember for years to come, would embroider upon, embellish until perhaps a generation from now, each would be able to boast he had enjoyed a long unending orgy of sexual abandon with a beautiful mature woman who had taught his English Literature class!
Once inside the narrow bathroom, which she discovered that she couldn't lock but only close tightly, Christine Bernard felt the dangling cord of an overhead light fixture and groped for it, pulled it on. From a naked bulb in the ceiling, she could see herself reflected back from a dirty narrow medicine cabinet mirror above the equally dirty washbasin. Her face was stained with tears, her eyes puffed and red from weeping. Her nostrils flared and quivered, her lips constantly trembled, and the rhythmic surge of her naked bosom indicated the emotional stress which she had just endured and whose aftermath was only now taking its violent nervous reaction unpon her deliciously voluptuous young body.
She stared down at the tangled, thick dark-brown curls of her pubis, and shuddered and closed her eyes with abhorrence to see the telltale signs of blood ... the symbol of her defloration. Imbued much as Lady Macbeth must have been, she stiffened and then hurriedly seized the bar of yellow soap, turned on the hot-water tap and let it run until it was warm enough to suit her. Then, making a lather with both hands, the strong-smelling bar clutched between them, she feverishly rubbed the soapy froth against the fleece of her mons veneris. With a groan of shame, she winced to feel the tender sensitivity of the lips of her pink, soft, twitching vulva. Cupping her hands, she brought water to the soap and rubbed, almost pitilessly ignoring the sudden twinges of pain which followed this energetic friction. So intent was she upon obliterating that shocking and revolting sign of her fall from grace, her downfall from that pedestal of unattainability, that she ignored the aching, almost bruised feeling of her inner thighs whose muscles had flexed violently in an instinctive defense against the thrusts of her formidable young ravisher.
Then she took the towel and, her lips curling in distaste over its condition, searched for a patch of reasonably un-soiled material by which she might sponge and wipe herself after several more applications of soap and water. This done, she removed her glasses and set them on the porcelain stand behind the toilet bowl, then adjusted the cold-water tap with the other and began to splash water against her swollen eyes.
Finally, after a last look into the mirror, she replaced her glasses, glanced down at her pubis, and turned scarlet with mortification at her sudden new awareness of her own body. As she turned to leave the narrow bathroom, from her sideways position she could see the sleek curve of her hip and thigh in the mirror, the sight of one magnificent round breast, and the cling of the white garterbelt which still tenaciously hooked up the welts of her beige nylons. She would have wished for a comb, but there was none in the empty medicine cabinet. She put her hands behind her automatically to smooth the pageboy curls, and this exquisite gesture arched out boldly the superb globes of her naked bosom. In turn, she was forced to look at herself, and she saw that her nipples were darker and firmer than they had been when she had been forced to remove her bra at the order of her young rapist-for such he was, and by no stretch of the imagination could he be considered anything else. "Oh, my God, is he going to let me go after this? What am I going to do? Oh, what am I going to do?" she whispered to herself. And then slowly, putting the towel back on the little plastic rack, she slowly opened the door and came out into the basement to see once again the matttess on the box frame where she had expiated her purity and sacrificed the prize and pearl of her maidenhead.
A murmur of appreciation greeted her upon her return, and all four of the boys-Joey had still not returned from his errand-turned to stare at her.
"Wowie! Teach looks like a brand-new piece, and do I ever want one!" Bruce Melton sniggered. He picked up the camera which Joey Elverson had set away, adjusted the lens, checked the fottage, and then pressed the shutter which set that whirring noise into motion, a noise that made her tremble and groan, and then quickly put a hand over her vulva and try to shield her panting bare breasts with the other arm. "Oh, please don't-I beg of you-haven't you done enough already?" she gasped, her cheeks scarlet again. For now it seemed to her that this was beginning all over again, with a new gamut of shame and desolation and despair in store for her.
"Go sit down and take it easy till I get back, Teach," Henry Ferguson ordered. "It's my turn to clean up now and get ready for you, Chrissy."
"Oh, no-you can't mean-why that's impossible-" she gasped.
"You must be kidding! You think one little piece is enough after all the planning and figuring out I did, Teach?" he laughed gloatingly at her as he strode towards the bathroom she had just quitted. "Now you just sit down and behave yourself, or Ben and Mack and Bruce might just forget we made a bargain and try you out before I get back, get it?"
She hurried over to the mattress and sat down, leaning forward and huddling herself into as small a ball as she could, her arms still shielding her bosom, the other hand clamped over the still twitching and extraordinarily sensitive lips of her vulva. She closed her eyes tightly, and she wished that she could be deaf at this moment, for the three boys had begun to appraise her voluptuous charms as if she weren't there, "Some guys like a tall lanky piece of cunt, but me, I'll take Teach any old time-You said it, Bruce! She's got the squirmiest little ass I ever saw on a broad, and those tits of hers give me a hardon just thinking about them-but that pink little twat of hers, that's the part I like about Teach most. You other guys can have the rest of her, just give me a chance at that slit she's got between those cute sexy legs, and I'll stay there and never come up for air!"
She wanted to sink through the floor, vanish into thin air; she wanted to turn back the pages of the calendar and even marry Henry Brandt, predictable and stodgy as she now knew him to be. For he represented security, and even though he had gone out of character last night by trying to make love to her with the pretext that as an engaged couple there was no reason to delay their pleasure in each other, at this moment Christine Bernard would have given all she possessed to summon him back to her apartment and to let him put the ring upon her finger after the deed was done. Because then at least it would be a sancrosanct union, wherein two married people would have their own secrets which no one else could possibly share. Yet now, even if Henry Ferguson kept his promise and released her after he had had his fill of her body, Christine Bernard could not be sure that what had taken place just now wouldn't be the subject of endless salacious gossip and scabrously detailed obscenities throughout the rest of the school year and for God knows how long thereafter!
"Hey, here's Joey with the chow!" Mack Benjamin excitedly called out. Joey Everson, grinning from ear to ear, was carrying two large brown bags. "I found a real nice drive-in a coupla blocks from here, you guys," he boastfully announced. "They make the biggest burgers I ever saw, and they're not all that expensive either. Yeah, I got plenty of French fries-they're nice shoestring and crispy-'n ketchup 'n mustard, yeah, and chocolate milk shakes. Let's see now-I got twelve burgers and six shakes. That makes a shake and two burgers for Teach there, that oughta to do her."
"I-I don't want anything-please-please just get it over with and let me go," she repeated, numb, her voice dull and resigned now. She hoped by calling as little attention to herself as possible to make them at last tire of their sport, or perhaps for the first realize the great risks they had taken in abducting and keeping her here prisoner against her will and then forcing her to this odious degradation of the flesh.
But at that moment, the bathroom door opened and Henry Ferguson strode out. Attracted by the sound of the opening door, she had turned to look, and now she shrank back, clapping a hand to her mouth, her eyes huge with consternation behind the piquant harlequin glasses.
For Henry Ferguson was stark naked except for socks and loafers, and he had sponged himself thoroughly, even to slicking down his hair. Worst of all, his penis was again nearly fully erect, an obscene symbol of her martyrdom which intimated that this unspeakable ordeal wasn't yet over.
"First we'll have chow, Chrissy," he announced as he walked over to the mattress and sat down beside her, "and then we'll fool around a little, okay?"
"Oh Henry-can't you-won't you please-oh, my God-I can't stand much more of this-I've done what you wanted me to, isn't that enough-oh, please have mercy on me, I'm only a woman, I've never done anything like this before in all my life-"
"But you're picking up new tricks fast, Teach, I'll say that for you," he twitted her. "Hey, you did a real good job cleaning up. You look good enough to eat." He winked at his cronies. "But I'll be a gentleman and let you chow down first, Teach. Give her two hamburgers and some fries and a shake, Joey."
"But I-"
"But you're going to eat, or else I'll let the guys take over," he roughly interrupted, glaring at her.
Christine bowed her head, speechless with terror and shame. The grinning bespectacled youngster had delved into one of the sacks, taken out two of the wrapped hamburgers and a tissue-wrapped packet of French fries, and one of the milk-shake containers, was moving towards her. "Here y're, Teach honey. Soo how good we're treating ya? You get first pick. No charge either," he sniggered, and the other boys chuckled at this sally.
"Go ahead, take it and start eating. I'm not done with you yet, remember? So make it snappy," Henry Ferguson again ordained.
"Here's a straw for ya, Teach," Joey Elverson proffered one of the straws from the bag.
Christine Bernard began with trembling fingers to unwrap one of the hamburgers, leaving the other placed against her thighs which she continued to clench together with a desperate urgency as if to hide her most intimate parts from all those prying eyes. There was something ingenuous and pathetic about this maneuver, as if by it she sought to tell herself that what had happened hadn't really taken place, that she was still inviolate, still untouched and chaste. But her trembling when she encountered the greedy, knowing leers of the other youths who stood nearby and watched every movement, made her cheeks redden with an awareness that belied this desperate pose of innoncence and unattainability.
Henry Ferguson took his share and began at once to eat with voracious bites, stopping from time to time to suck greedily through the straw in his milk-shake container. When he paused, it was to stare greedily at the naked young woman beside him who shrank away and averted her face. She managed to finish the first hamburger, but couldn't do more than take a few bites of the second. She finished nearly half of the milk shake, however, as she found herself to be unusually thirsty. "That-that's all I want, th-thank you," she said faintly as she set the container down on the floor and, carefully wrapping the rest of the remaining hamburger, placed it atop the container.
"I'll be with you right away, Teach. But for now, why don't you get better acqainted with me, huh? Go ahead put your soft little hand on my whang and feel it up. I haven't got a rubber on now, so you can see and feel what it's really like. That's what went inside of you just now, remember, Chrissy?" he taunted her.
She gasped and her face flamed violently. She stared at him appealingly, tears again forming in her widened eyes.
"Do what I told you to, unless you want the guys to take over," he again ominously reminded her.
With a sob, Christine Bernard extended her trembling right hand and gingerly brushed the shaft of her ravisher's now again turgid penis with the tips of her fingers.
"It won't bite, don't be bashful. After all, you and I just fucked, didn't we?" he said brutally. "Now go ahead, put your fingers around it, take a good hold of it and give it a loving little squeeze. And then you can start tickling the top, till I'm ready for you again."
"Oh, no-you mean you're not-oh-oh, my God-oh, please, Henry-"
"No, I'm not going to fuck you this time, but you've got two other cherries that I think would be just as much fun having as your pussy's," he said to her.
She stared at him uncomprehendingly, her mouth agape. Incredulity as well as shock left her unaware of his meaning except the general knowledge that her ordeal would be prolonged.
"That's right, Teach. This time, I won't need a safe. You see, Teach, you're gonna gimme a blow job first, and then I'm gonna put my cock right into your cute little brownie."
CHAPTER EIGHT
The four youths leaning against the wall of the basement near the mattress on which Henry Ferguson sat naked beside the shivering, beleagured Christine Bernard sniggered among themselves at their companion's starkly obscene statement to the beautiful captive. Joey, having wolfed down his snack, had put another real in the movie camera, and was now taking a shot of the couple on the matttess, focusing the camera mainly on Christine's superb heaving naked breasts and the ingenuous hand still frantically pressed against the apex of her femininity.
Shrinking away from the naked youth who had taken her virginity, Christine turned a fiery red and stammered, in a husky, low voice meant only for his ears, "H-Henry, I-I've obeyed you-I've done what you wanted-won't you be merciful and let me go-how-how can you en-enjoy doing things like this w-when you know how shameful they are and how much you-you humiliated me in-in front of all those others?"
He grinned. "I like the way you talk, Teach. Real high-toned, just like back in class. Boy, wouldn't it be something if you could teach class wearing just what you've got on now-every guy would be listening to every word you said!"
"Pl-please-d-don't make fun of me-you-you're intelligent, you said yourself I-I'd treated you fairly in class-won't you let me go now?"
"Uh-uh, Chrissy baby. You see I might never get another chance like this to fuck you and sit right up close like this, bare-ass naked the both of us, not ever again. So this is going to have to last me awhile, Teach girl. And of course I'll have the movies and the Polaroids to remember it all by, won't I? Just to make sure you don't get the idea of tipping off the fuzz about your sexy weekend, get me?"
He pressed his bare thigh against her stockinged leg, and Christine Bernard shivered and squinched further away, trying to get as far away from her ravisher as possible. But Henry Ferguson put his left arm around her waist and then boldly cupped one of her swelling round pink-sheened breasts, and leaned to her to plant a salacious, wet, long kiss on her spluttering mouth.
"Mff-d-don't-oh, not in front of them-" she gasped, scarlet-faced with shame.
"Teach, you're the funniest little prude I ever met," he jested, retaining hold on her slim waist and pulling her roughly back to him. "Here we've put on a fucking show for the guys, and you get all uptight about a little kiss. What's it gonna be like when you have to give me a blow job-'cause that's exactly what you're gonna do next, Teach girl!"
"I-I don't k-know w-what you m-mean-oh, won't you please have pity on me, H-Henry?" she moaned.
"A blow job, Teach, is Frenching-yeah, I guess I forgot that being cherry the way you were till just now, you wouldn't be hip to all the lingo. Know what Frenching is?"
Dazed, still blushing violently, Christine Bernard shook her lovely head, regarding him with frantically dilated, tear-blurred eyes, shivering at the possessive cling of his arm around her naked, satiny waist. Her little hand pressed all the harder against her thickly fleeced love-mound, and she couldn't help glancing nervously up at the four other boys who stood watching intently. When she saw Joey Elverson's lewd wink and perceived the camera trained on her, she uttered a cry, "Ohh, don't take any more m-movies, please don't!"
"That's our insurance, Teach, we gotta take' em," Bruce Melton roughly responded, coming nearer and staring hungrily down at her. Then, without warning, he put out a hand and cupped and squeezed one of her swelling bare breasts.
"S-stop it. Oh-you-you horribly boy-you and your friends, enjoying my misery and s-shame like this-oh, if your parents only knew what you were doing!" she wailed, squirming away only to be held where she was by the tightening encirclement of Henry Ferguson's arm.
"That's a hor one, Teach! You sure don't know much about your students, do you?" was Bruce Melton's jeering reply. "My folks got divorced a couple of years back, so I hang out with my uncle. And he likes whiskey and pussy. Hell, he was the guy that took me to a house and broke me in to what fucking was-I'm sure glad he did, so I could know what to do with a squirmy, uppity little piece like you, Chrissy honey."
"OHHHH!" Speechless, her face flooding with hot crimson, Christine Bernard closed her eyes and bowed her head, huddling herself over to diminish her nakedness before her captors.
"I live with my dad, and he's a swinger too," Mack Benjamin grinningly volunteered.
"He sure is," Ben Elverson chuckled knowingly. "You might as well know about Joey'n me too, Teach girl. Our folks died ten years ago, and we've been staying with my dad's brother and his second wife-know something? She's not any older than you are, Teach, and she's broke us both in. Only Joey, my kid brother, he gets too excited, so Aunt Cassie doesn't let him get into her panties too often."
"OHHH! YOU-YOU FILTHY, HORRIBLE YOUNG ANIMALS!" Christine Bernard cried, beside herself at this revelation of the amorality of her young captors.
"So you see, Teach," Ben Elverson concluded, "None of us guys have to worry about getting back home for curfew or anything like that, see? All right, that's enough talk now. Teach, you've rested up good and you've had some chow, so get with it. Hank, make her talk a little French!"
"You heard them," Henry Ferguson leaned his face close to Christine's, his free hand stroking her inner thigh just above the-beige nylon stocking top. "I'll tell you what you have to do, Chrissy girl. Get right down on the floor on your knees, and take my cock in your hand and then put it into your mouth and suck it nice and sweet 'n slow, hear me?"
"OHHHHH! NOO, I WON'T EVER DO SUCH A DISGUSTING, DEGENERATE THING! LET ME GO! I WON'T, NOW I REALLY AM GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE AND TELL THE POLICE-NOO, LET ME GOOOO!" she shrieked. As his all too graphic meaning impinged on her distraught mind, Christine Bernard wrestled herself from his grasp, stood up and tried to run towards the door whence she had entered this chamber of degradation and maiden martyrdom. But Bruce Melton and Mack Benjamin gave chase and overtook her before she could reach the door, then dragged her back by the elbows, their other hands callously fondling her thighs, breasts and belly as they returned her to the mattress on which Henry Ferguson sat, calmly awaiting her return. Now, spreading his legs and shifting over to the edge of the mattress, he directed, "Now that was real stupid, Teach. You know you're gonna have to do it, or the other guys will take turns with you. So kneel down like a good little bitch and start doing what I told you to!"
"NOOOO! I WON'T EVER DO SUCH AN ABOMINABLE THING, YOU CAN KILL ME!" she shouted hysterically, once again trying to jerk free from Bruce Melton and Mack Benjamin. "Oh, you horrible, dirty, filthy creatures, to treat a decent woman this way! Let me go, stop touching me-damn you anyhow!" and then, in quite characteristically feminine manner, Christine Bernard burst into fitful tears as the two boys who held her by the elbows continued to palpate her belly and thighs and breasts and even her buttocks as she struggled between them.
"Tsk, tsk," Henry Ferguson chided, shaking his head and wagging a reproving forefinger at the weeping, writhing young woman. "Now that was very naughty of you, Teach. We were getting along just fine until you started to act huffy. So you're going to tell the police, are you? I think it's you that needs a lesson, Teach, not us guys. All right, Bruce, Mack, pull Teach over that table and hold her arms down on the other side so she can't get off. Joey, I see you reloaded the camera. I want you to take a good one of Teach's punishment and then, when she gives in, on what's she gonna do for me then, you get me?"
"I sure do. Doggone, though, Hank, when do I get a piece?"
"You're a little too young right now. Anyway, you're watching, and you're having fun. I saw you jack off a little while ago, so you couldn't give it to Teach right now anyhow even if I let you. You just make sure you get good movies. Okay, let's go!" Henry Ferguson rose from the mattress and moved over towards the rough-surfaced table over which the two youths had now dragged the struggling, indignantly and fearfully protesting young woman. Getting on the other side, they squatted down, each holding her by a wrist with both hands, and thus Christine Bernard found herself in a highly provocative and ignominiously helpless posture.
Draped down across the table, her beautiful pink-sheened breasts flattened against the rough wood, her bare buttocks were elevated just over the edge and projected outward in the most impudently appealing manner imaginable. Her legs just barely reached the floor, so that she was obliged to teether on the toes of her pumps. This put into magnificent choreographic play the muscular flexions which rippled up and down her stockinged calves and thighs and continued along the jutting, upstandingly rounded globes of her velvety naked bottom.
Henry Ferguson now moved to the side of the table over which her shoulders were pressed, planted himself with legs astraddle and his hands on his hips, so that her crimsoned, contorted face was focused directly against his young loins. His penis was already ferociously erect and swollen, the dark-blue veins angrily throbbing along the shaft whose skin had been drawn tautly. Thus the spearpoint of the glans loomed before her like a menacing weapon in all its phallic potency.
Joey Elverson maneuvered himself to the right and against the wall so that he could view the two boys who crouched down below the table gripping Christine's wrists and observe plainly the nearness of the victim's lovely, tear-wet and scarlet face to Henry Ferguson's rigid sexual weapon. The latter glanced back at the youngest of Christine's captors: "You all ready now, Joey?"
"Sure am! Just tell me when to start shooting!"
"Ben, why don't you go behind Teach, and give that sweet big ass of hers a little warmup with your hand? Spank her good till she says she's gonna be a good girl and do what she's told, huh?" Henry Ferguson blandly proposed.
Infuriated almost beyond endurance by this casual command which proposed new indignities and shame for her, Christine Bernard uttered a wild shriek and with all her strength dragged at her captive wrists, but in vain. What she achieved was only to arch and squirm her deliciously postured and scantily adorned body and to set into even more active play all of the lithe muscles of legs and buttocks and back and shoulders and arms. Her beautiful breasts, heaving wildly, lifted just above the tabletop; then, as the boys dragged her down, flattened again in the most lascivious way as if against the chest of one of her would-be ravishers. Her buttocks jerked, weaved and twisted, contracting spasmodically to diminish the shadowy groove which separated them. But as Ben Elverson, grinning lewdly, took his place behind her, his eyes could feast on the gaping slit of her mount of Venus and on the thick, ruffled dark-brown curls of the pubis which framed that inviting gape, as well as on the exquisitely dainty, crinkly rosette of her anus, the lips of which puckered and shrank amid the convulsive tremors which beset her body now as she struggled madly to free herself from rhis new duress.
Aware of the humiliation to which she was about to be subjected, Christine Bernard tried wildly to kick back to prevent Ben Elverson from touching her. He laughed aloud at her almost childish attempts to avert this juvenile punishment which Henry Ferguson had chosen precisely to degrade her from her mature and independent status as their teacher and respected scholastic authority. Deftly avoiding her frenzied kicks, he moved against the edge of the table just at her left, turning somewhat sideways to her. The taut narrow waistband of the white-satin elastic garterbelt seemed to bite into the quivering, satiny flesh of her slim waist, thereby accenuating the mouth-watering swell of her voluptuous hips, and the narrow tabs which stemmed on either side and over the edges of her buttocks down along the upper thighs to clamp against the tops of her beige nylons framed that magnificent and opulent posterior in all its carnation-skinned glory. There was a saucy impudence to the contours of Christine Bernard's buttocks, the summits full and ripe and resilient, the flesh elastic and springy as could be wished, unblemished and smooth-sheened, and wonderfully mobile-as the spasmodic contractions which yawned open the narrow, sinuous grove between the cheeks and then clenched frantically shut again plainly indicated.
Putting his left palm on her chinbone to bear down and thus immobilize her further, Joey's older brother now lingeringly and deliberately ran his right palm all over Christine Bernard's naked behind. Starting at the edge of her right hip, he moved down over the outer edge of the summit and thence to the base, then rubbed his palm over the ambery-rosy cleft between the shuddering, flinching globes, then past it over to the slope of her left hip and down along that outer edge to the base, then up again and over the ripest curve of the left buttocks. Next, he began to pat the flesh of both buttocks here and there, all the while Christine Bernard, mad with shame and helpless rage, continued to kick out blindly and uselessly at her young executioner. Her voice, choked with sobs and groans of the most overwhelming mortification, fully expressed the gamut of emotional sensations that she was undergoing, "Aah-oh, stop it-you disgusting beasts-let go of me-you're hurting my wrists-how dare you do a thing like this to me-oh, you wait, you'll all pay for this-I made a bargain with Henry, and he's not man enough to keep it-oh, stop it, stop it, you've no right to treat me this way-I'm not a prostitute-oh, you just wait-I'll fix all of you-let me go--aah-you're hurting my wrists, I tell you-let me up-please-stop it-oh, my God-oh someone, help me, for God's sake, help me!"
At these last words, her voice rose to an agonized and strident wail. For Ben Elverson with a mocking little laugh, had just raised his right hand and brought it down sharply and crisply on the ripest curve of her right bottom-cheek. The impact of his palm made a salacious and suggestive noise of flesh upon naked womanflesh, and left a bright pink splotch to outline the place his hand had attacked. Under the spank, Christine Bernard's bottom flattened, and wildly jerked from side to side, while she seemed to arch herself as much forward as her captor allowed, while one of her legs kicked up so wildly that the pump flew off and thudded against the floor well beyond.
Joey Elverson, at Henry Ferguson's sign, had begun to take the movie of this absorbing and fascinating scene. Hi had hunched down a little so as to get a better level and a closeup of Christine's rear-stained, scarlet and twisted face, made the more provocative by the harlequin glasses, and just a foot away, the extended rigidity of Henry Ferguson s swollen penis.
"That's right, Ben," Henry Ferguson encouraged his crony. "Not too fast, but let Chrissy feel them. As for you, Teach, when you've had enough, just tell me that you're ready to give me that blow job, and I'll have Ben stop, understand?"
"You-you can go to h-hell, I wouldn't ever-oww!" Christine Bernard's gasped-out rejoinder was suddenly interrupted by a loud, sonorous Smack as Ben Elverson's right palm landed with full force on the left summit of her jutting naked behind, making her lunge forward with a shrill cry as her face lifted, her eyes wide and blind by the new tears of her continued and increased sexual martyrdom.
"Hell, I'm in no hurry at all. I could do this all night long to Teach-well, not all night, I'd leave some time open to cuke her," was Ben Elverson's obscene acknowledgment. Suiting action to word, and pressing his left palm down even harder against the very small of her beautifully sculptured naked back, he slowly raised his right hand, hovered it in the air a long moment while the beautiful victim turned her tear-wet, flushed face back frantically over her left shoulder to see what was taking place, and then without warning brought it down with all his might. Smackkk! His palm flattened the jouncy naked flesh just below the summit of her right buttock, and Christine Bernard uttered a piercing squeal of discomfort, "Owww, oh, you brute-I'm warning you, stop this, you've gone too far-you can't force a decent woman to do anything like that-I'd rather die-you can kill me if you want, but I won't-do you hear me?"
"We all hear you, Teach. Only we don't believe you this time. Remember, this isn't class now," Henry Ferguson taunted her. "That was a good one, Ben. It's a good idea to make her wait for it, so she'll feel it better and think about the next one. Keep taking movies, Joey."
"Boy, will I ever!" that young worthy enthusiastically replied.
Once again Christine Bernard tried to kick out at her executioner, but he had very cleverly stationed himself right up against the edge of the table and the side of her, so that she could not reach him. Pulled forward as she was by the two crouching youths at the head of the table who maintained a solid grip on both her slim wrists, she could hardly move and thus was completely vulnerable. Ben Elverson stared avidly at the flaming marks which marred the perfection of her pink-and-white skinned bottomcheeks, standing out lubriciously against the untouched purity of her back and upper thighs. Then, winking at Henry Ferguson, he lifted his right hand again just as Christine Bernard turned her agonized face back over her shoulder. Grinning at her, he pretended to swing his hand and drew a frightened "Oh, don't!" from the helpless mature victim. Playfully, then, he patted her shrinking naked behind, caressing the outer edges of both cheeks, and then slyly traced the sensitive shadowy crease which separated those effulgent globes of womanflesh until Christine Bernard writhed and arched, frenziedly trying to evade the audacious fingering which further degraded her and threatened an even more intimate part of her female anatomy: her dainty, clenching anus.
"You dirty, filthy coward!" she tearfully upbraided him. "Oh, you'll all pay for this, you'll see, I said I wouldn't tell anybody, but not after the way you're treating me now--you'll all go to jail, you'll be sorry-ohww-aiiii! Ohh, you're hurting me, you're hurting me!"
In answer to her denunciation, Ben Elverson had delivered four solid spanks, two to each buttock, aiming at the sensitive base of her posterior, the tenderest area of all in the female behind. The stinging, hot, shocking pain spread myriad waves of discomfort through her entire posterior and loins, and her legs kicked almost horizontally out, so that the other pump went flying on the floor beyond. Her toes wriggled and clenched and twisted against the sheer nylon, and she tried to lift herself up from the table in her torment.
"Feel like doing what you're told to now, Teach?" Henry Ferguson's voice was hoarse because of his mounting excitement. The lips of his penis had begun to twitch and clench, a sign of that erotic fervor.
"I won't-I won't ever do a thing like that-I told you, you can kill me but I won't-oh, you horrible, hateful boy, you just wait--you let me go now, you'll all be sorry if you don't-eeyeaahrrrr, oh stop, you're hurting me so, please, you're hurting me!"
Once again, her unsteady, throbbing voice which had sought to reason with them and to impress them with the fear of the consequences she could bring upon them, broke off into a shrill, prolonged shriek as Ben Elverson's hand fell crisply and sonorously four times more. But this time, all four spanks were visited upon the most inviting target, the ripely jutting summit of her right buttock, deepening the hue of the chastised skin into a flaming red which boldly stood out against the rest of that only gradually discolored naked bottom and the pure carnation-tinted back and thighs above and below. Once again the nuance of the white satin-elastic tabs and of the band of the garterbelt itself framed and deepened the marvelous texture of Christine Bernard's naked flesh and made it more intoxicatingly desirable, spiced by this exquisitely juvenile correction with all of its sadistic overtones; the dominator male in his eternal combat against the latent slave that existed in the female psyche!
"Sure you're not ready yet to be a good girl, Teach?" Henry Ferguson pitilessly demanded.
Christine Bernard ground her teeth together, closed her eyes, fought off the deluge of new tears that "ere blinding her eyes, and stiffened all her muscles in a valiant and final attempt to endure this atrocious and degrading suffering. Her bottom throbbed painfully, especially where Ben Elverson's hard young hand had just attacked the resilient flesh of her right bottom summit. The rough surface of the table chafed her belly and breasts, and the muscles of her legs ached because of the stress upon them in trying to balance herself.
"No? Well, I'm sure Ben won't mind giving that sweet ass of yours a little more attention. Go ahead, Ben!"
"It's a pleasure," Ben Elverson grinned wickedly. Once again his right palm caressingly moved here and there over Christine Bernard's shuddering, flinching, reddened naked behind. And this time, when he had concluded his palpation, he ruthlessly applied the tip of his right forefinger along the crease between the tightening, .shuddering globes, until his fingernail brushed the dainty, furtive lips of her virgin anus.
"Ohh, noooo! Take your filthy hand away from me, oh, stop it, stop it, if you have to spank me, do it, but stop touching me there!" Christine Bernard cried out. Again she dragged madly at her captive wrists, tried to kick, twisting and arching her hips frenziedly to escape this supreme mortification.
"Boy, is she ever goosemeat, Hank!" Ben Elverson declared. "I thought the little bitch would sort of go for being fingered up instead of spanked. But I guess maybe she gets her rocks off by having her hind end whammed. Suits me fine, either way. Okay, Teach, here it goes again, get ready!" And with this, raising his right hand high, he brought it down with furious impact over the top of her left hip, and then, before she could catch her breath, applied swinging spank to the base of her right buttock.
Again a frantic wail burst from the helpless naked mature-captive, her bespectacled face lifting, her eyes mad with suffering and shame, hugely exorbitant, not even seeing the naked boy who stood before her proffering the weapon which had already robbed her of her pearl of virginity and was this time proffered to the second virginity of her sweet, supervilious mouth. Once again Bruce and Mack had all they could do to maintain their hold of her wrists, so savagely did she try to get free under the onus of the burning pain of those two spanks.
Ben Elverson made a show of blowing on his hand and ruefully shaking his head. "Maybe I ought to use a belt, Hank. I'm wearing out my hand on Teach's big hard ass," he lewdly observed.
"No, go on using your hand. It makes Teach like a little kid getting her ass swatted for being a naughty girl which is what she is so long as she won't do what she's told," Henry Ferguson displayed his precocious understanding of the art of subjugation of the helpless female. "I told you, just take your time. The longer she has to wait for her swats, the more she's gonna think about being obedient when her ass starts hurting more than she can take. Joey, remember, we've got four or five more cans of film when you run out. I want to get all the movies we can get."
"Sure, Hank! Boy, we can make a fortune showing these at stag parties, I'll betcha anything!" the bespectacled brown-haired sixteen-year-old excitedly gasped.
"Oh, God!" Christine Bernard groaned as she overheard that treacherous proposal.
"That's right, Teach, that's something else for you to think about. You still say you're gonna tell the fuzz when we let you go? Well, we'll have so many prints of these movies made that I bet we could sell them to places in New York and California that would pay real good for them. Just think, Teach, everything you've got would be shown all over the country to guys with a yen for pussy."
She raised her tear-wet face to the smirking youth who stood scarcely a foot away from her, his swollen penis rigidly directed towards her. "Oh, my G-God," she stammered, "oh, no, no, Henry, you wouldn't do a thing like that-oh, please-please, you wouldn't!"
"Wouldn't I, Teach? All depends on how you act. You're not high and mighty anymore, just remember that. You're here to do like I said, like you promised you would, and you know what I want right now."
"But I can't-I've never done a thing like that-I wouldn't-I wouldn't even do that for my husband," she groaned, tears again running down her flushed cheeks.
"Okay, then you'll get spanked till you do," was his exorable answer. "Go right ahead, Ben."
"Like I told you, I could go on swatting Chrissy's big sweet ass all night long," Ben Elverson chuckled. His left palm bore down again on the small of the young woman's back; his right hand slowly rose, then crisply swept down once, twice, thrice, and a fourth time. Each spank flattened the base of her right buttock, attacking the tenderest nerves of her voluptuous posterior. Under the impetus of such reiterated pain, Christine Bernard lifted her face and uttered a prolonged scream of pain, kicking up first one leg and then the other, twisting and jerking her flaming hips this way and that over the edge of the rough-surfaced table.
"Boy, what a squirmy ass Teach has got!" Bruce Melton panted. "Hey, how about letting me give it to her if Ben's hand is sore?"
"Not yet, Bruce," Henry Ferguson autocratically ordained, now fully master of ceremonies of this basement orgy. "You just make sure you don't let Teach get loose, that's all. Go on, Ben. Remember, Chrissy, the minute you want the spanking to stop, just tell me you're ready to blow me. That's all you have to say, and you better use the right words or Ben will just keep on going, get me?"
"Oh, this is dreadful-you're hurting me so-I can't stand it-I can't-I won't, I've never-oh, I won't do things like that, won't you believe me? Haven't you any decency, any pity for me?" Christine Bernard tearfully entreated.
But Henry Ferguson didn't bother to reply. He reached out his hands instead and took hold of the tumbling cascade of Christine Bernard's dark-brown pagebuy curls and lifted them up, holding them with both hands and moving just a little closer to her so that the obscene nozzle of his rigid penis was only inches from her scarlet, tear-stained contorted face. As she gasped in consternation and shame, Ben Elverson behind her once again raised his right hand and dealt her a hard noisy spank at the base of the left buttock, following it with two crisp smacks against the upper right summit of her now furiously inflamed naked bottom.
"Aiiii! Eeeeyeaarrrrowwww! Oh, my God, you're killing me, I can't stand much more, I just can't, I'm only a woman!"
"And are we ever glad you are, Teach," was Henry Ferguson's callous and mocking answer. "I told you what the words were to have Ben stop, you just remember them. Go ahead, give it to her good. She's starting to feel it now. Wait a minute! Joey, first, you get back there because I wan a good shot and closeup of Chrissy's big red ass!"
"Ohh-ohh, boohoo, oh, you're just horrible, you're awful, degenerate criminals, all of you, to let him do this to me-oh, I can't-I can't bear it, oh, please, please won't someone help me-stop-oh, it hurts so-I hurt, I hurt!" Christine Bernard babbled like an agonized child who can no longer endure the overwhelming duress and pain of the ordeal of chastisement.
Because Henry Ferguson had struck home at her innermost psyche, blending physical stress with the most profoundly shocking emotional compulsions, this mature young woman who had always been so poised and mistress of herself in all former difficult situations now found herself beleagured and helpless. Her physical resistance was quickly ebbing, and the terror of a prolonged and apparently endless torment faced her. But its alternative was an even more devastating blow to her pride and self-esteem and chastity: the thought of accepting her ravisher's penis in her mouth, thus paying tribute to that loathsome and precocious object which had robbed her of her feminine treasure, seemed to be the most abhorrent and destructive agony of all.
Joey Elverson hastily moved down to the end of the table and squatted down to the right, while Ben Elverson grinned at his younger brother and ran his right hand once again over the victim's flaming hindquarters. Her stockinged toes pressed down to fight for purchase on the stone floor, thus sending myriad rippling flexions and tremors through her lovely calves and thighs and along the angrily reddened globes of her squirming, out-reared naked bottom. Her breasts were crushed down against the tabletop, shuddering and heaving with uncontrollable sobs, and her shoulders shook. Her wrists ached from the cruel and relentless grip of her two captors as well as from her own frantic jerkings at them in the useless attempts to get free and put an end to this atrocious matyrdom.
"Don't you think Teach's ass is cuter than Aunt Cassie's, Joey boy? "his older brother slyly asked. Christine Bernard gasped again, for the new shock of discovering the background of her young ravishers and abductors had posed a new problem for her to cope with mentally. But vastly overreaching this was the by now neatly entirely annihilating hold of the purely physical indignities and discomfort to which she had been subjected, and these sensations began to disperse all other considerations. By now, the angry, persistent hot throbbing of her well-spanked naked behind was a torment, for it had rasped and aggravated all of her most subtle feminine nerves.
"Yeah!" the younger boy breathed ecstatically, shifting a little more so as to get a better view and angle of the angrily reddened globes of Christine Bernard's voluptuous, helpless posterior.
"I bet Aunt Cassie would get a hot wet little pussy if we played the spanking game with her, Joey," Ben Elverson bawdily continued with a wink at his younger brother. "Maybe when we get home, we ought to see how it goes, what do you say, Joey?"
"Oh, yeah, Ben, that would be great! But go on, I want to see you lay it on to Teach's ass some more!"
"Sure, Joey, anything to oblige my kid brother. All right, Teach, here it comes now!"
"Oh, my God, stop it, I-can't-owwoouuuu!! You're hurting, you're hurting me so. I can't bear it, oh, for God's sake, Henry, make him stop!" Ben Elverson had applied half a dozen hard, rapid spanks all over the jutting, flaming expanse of the victim's tautly presented, naked behind, making her lunge forward over the table, kick back frantically, and twist her tear-stained face imploring back over her shoulder to him to appeal for mercy.
"For a grown-up teacher, you're really not very bright, Chrissy," Henry Ferguson mocked her. "Didn't you listen good? I said if you want him to stop, you've gotta tell me that you're ready to give me a good blow job. Now you say just that, and Ben will stop swatting your big bare ass."
As he nodded, Ben Elverson grinned acknowledgment of that sign and delivered another half-dozen hard open-handed blows which flattened the trembling, angrily dark-reddened summits of both bottomcheeks and drew new shrill cries of protest and agony from the harrassed young woman.
"Boy, she's sure stubborn," Ben Elverson panted, out of breath and once again blowing on his spanking hand.
"Well, use your belt then," Henry Ferguson decreed.
"Oh, God, oh, no, you can't-don't let him-oh, I can't stand any more, I can't, Henry, oh, please have mercy!" Christine Bernard sobbingly begged.
He yanked at her hair which he still held clutched in both hands, tilting up her face, and then bent down to grin at her. "How often do I have to tell you what to say, Teach baby? Are you ready to do what I want now? Otherwise, he really will swing that belt against your tail and it won't hurt his hand any. You'll get it till you say yes, and that's a fact. Show her the belt, Ben!"
He released the young woman's hair, and Christine Bernard once again turned back her agonized face to see Ben Elverson in the act of tugging a black leather belr out of the loops at the waistbanad of his tight jeans, flourish it in the air and snap it about with an omious crack.
"Oh, no! For God's sake, not that, I couldn't stand that, I couldn't, oh, I just couldn't! Oh, please, Henry, I'm begging you humbly, not any more, oh, please, don't force me, I don't-I've never done it-it's so awful, so disgusting, so f-filthy-oh, please have mercy!" she babbled.
"Let her feel ir just once and we'll see, Ben," Henry Ferguson cut in, his voice thick with sexual excitement.
Ben Elverson drew back a step, swung the belt out in the air, then stepped forward and sent it whistling forward to make ferocious and greedy impact. The black leather thong clung amorously over the ripest curves of both jutting, flaming bare buttocks. Christine Bernard lunged madly over the table, arching her back, tilting her face to the ceiling, her mouth gaping in a frenzied, prolonged and raucous cry, "Awwwrrrouuuuueeeee!!! Oh, stop, you're killing me, for God's sake stop, stop!"
Once again Henry Ferguson twisted his fingers in her tumbled curls, forcing up her contorted, tear-wet face as he peered down at her. "Are you ready now?" he hoarsely urged. "Ben's waiting to lay it on, so you better be quick.
Come on, Teach, what's it gonna be?"
As she fought for breath, hysterically trying to weigh the atrocious alternatives, the agonized burning of her behind telling her that she could no longer endure such reiterated torment, Henry Ferguson nodded again. And once again the wickedly aimed slashing black leather belt cracked and clung against the ripest curves of both bottomcheeks, sliding off as her bottom heaved and jerked wildly under its burning kiss.
"Eeyarrrhhhowwouuu!!! no more, for God's sake no more, I'll do anything you want, only stop, make him stop, for God's sake make him stop!" Christine Bernard capitulated.
"That's a little more like it. Only you haven't used the words yet, so I guess Ben has to go on giving you the belt, Chrissy."
"Oh, no-don't let him, Henry, I'll-I'll say it-I-I'll do-what you want-"
"Uh uh. That's not what you're supposed to say. You know. You're all nice and ready to give me a blow job, aren't you? Now say it, just like that" he hissed, yanking at her curls.
Frantic with pain and shame, but no longer able to endure the scalding heat in her discolered, swollen naked behind, Christine Bernard sobbed out in a dying voice, "I'll-do-do what you-want, Henry, if you'll only have him stop, I'll--I'll give you a bl-bl-blow j-job-oh, my God, oh, I want to die of shame-oh, I hurt so-oh, please, no more now, no more!"
"At last you learned your lesson, Teach. Well, all right. Ben, you just stay where you are and keep that belt ready. That's just in case Teach decides she's going to change her mind just like a woman," Henry Ferguson chuckled and then, once again twisting his fingers cruelly in her hair and tilting up her face, he moved even closer till at last the tip of his organ brushed her trembling, swollen lips. "All right, open wide, Chrissy. I'm going to put it inside your mouth and I want you to suck on it nice and sweet and slow, you hear me? Just remember, the minute that you stop, Ben is going to give you the belt again. Joey, come back over here because I want movies of this most of all!"
"Oh, yeah!" the youngest boy straightened and hurried round to the head of the table, moving over to the right and squatting down, focusing his camera, checking the footage and then grinning, his face flushed with erotic excitement over what was about to ensue.
Christine Bernard closed her eyes and reluctantly opened her mouth. A violent spasm seemed to shake her bent-over, pinioned body as she capitulated. And yet, as she felt his glans brush her lips and then her nostrils as Henry Ferguson sadistically and masterfully intimated to her what he intended by way of conquest over her chastity, Ben Elverson lifted the belt and let it trickle down over her flaming, burning naked hindquarters. The contact of that leather band and its cruel implications made her utter a cry, "Oh, no, don't hit me anymore, I'll do it!"
And then, seeming to arch her head forward, her mouth opened to receive the weapon of her ravisher, Christine Bernard submitted herself to her first act of fellatio, an act which she had already avowed she wouldn't have performed even on her own husband.
Henry Ferguson shuddered with lust and victory. Keeping his fingers twisted in her hair so that she couldn't pull away, he arched himself forward a little till the tip of his organ entered between her gaping lips, and she choked and gagged at the sensation.
"I said suck, you stupid little bitch," he rasped. "Maybe you're just itching for more of Ben's belt, huh?"
"Oh, no-I'll do it-please-give me time-you have to be p-patient with me-oh, God, I've never done this awful thing before-oh, please have mercy-"
"Shut up and start sucking!"
Once again Ben Elverson let the belt graze Christine Bernard's swollen, burning hindquarters. Stricken with mortal fear, the naked young woman resigned herself. Her lip., closed over the tip of Henry Ferguson's penis, and then, awkwardly and ingenuously, she began to suck.
Bruce Melton and Mack Benjamin, who still squatted down and held her wrists tightly, watched with glittering eyes. "You lucky bastard you," Bruce enviously mumbled.
"It's all in knowing how to make a bitch come across, Bruce, you ought to know that," Henry Ferguson boasted. "Now get ready, Teach, I'm going to feed you a little more cock. You won't strangle, just keep sucking. And let's feel your tongue rub my whang a little, too, just to show that you're going to be a nice obedient little bitch."
Suiting action to word again, he arched himself an inch or two more towards her, and Christine Bernard spluttered and gasped and gagged as by now the full glans of his organ penetrated her virgin mouth. Her eyes bulging, glassy with tears, her nostrils dilating and shrinking convulsively, her bosom heaving against the rough surface of the table over which she was draped and pinioned by the two captors who knelt on either side of Henry Ferguson, her bottom shrinking as Ben Elverson still let the belt graze the discolored, resilient globes, the bespectacled young woman now complied in her desperate fear of continued chastisement. Her soft pink tongue tremblingly brushed against the side of the head of his organ, while she made sucking maneuvers with her trembling, revulsing mouth to placate her young ravisher.
She could feel his organ palpitate and swell, and she choked and gasped repeatedly in her loathing of what she was obliged to do. But the angry throbbing of his weapon now in turn indicated to Henry Ferguson his ferocious readiness for a second bout with this beautiful and helpless young woman. And that was why, after he had let her rub her tongue a few times more and suck on the glans of his penis till he could no longer endure the exquisite Tantalus, he roughly pulled out of her mouth and released her tousled pageboy curls.
"That was pretty good for a first time, Teach. And now, I'm not going to use a safe because I won't need to. You can't get a baby from love-juice squirted up your brownie. I'm going to take your last cherry, Chrissy baby!" he gloatingly announced.
CHAPTER NINE
Christine Bernard could not believe her ears as she saw the naked, stocky youth walk to the foot of the table and take his place behind her. Still choking and gasping from the physical nausea which the compelled act of fellatio had cost her, the bespectacled naked young woman at last found voice to cry out in a trembling, unsteady voice, "Oh, my God in heaven, what are you going to do to me now? Haven't I suffered enough? Oh, Henry, I'm begging you, let me go now, I'm sick, it was so awful, so disgusting-please have pity on me and let me go-I-I give you my word I won't tell anybody, if you'll only let me go now, please!"
Ignoring her poignant appeal, Henry Ferguson directed, "Better tie her ankles to the table, Ben, she's likely to start to want to kick when she finds out what I've got planned for her cute little brownie."
"Oh, no-don't tie me-oh, what are you going to do to me now? For God's sake, I can't stand anymore, I can't, I can't, you've hurt and shamed me so, oh, please, let me put on my clothes and go home, I don't feel well-have mercy, Henry, in the name of humanity, be merciful now, you've had what you wanted!" Christine Bernard shrilly petitioned.
But Ben Elverson, delving into the pocket of his jeans, had taken out two lengths of thin but strong white cord which he had already cut in advance before the entrapment of the beautiful bespectacled victim. Squatting down now, he seized Christine Bernard's right leg and, in spite of her frantic struggles and cries, deftly tied her slim ankle to the base of the right table leg. Her terror mounted at this pinioning, and she twisted and squirmed feverishly, again dragging wildly at her wrists till Bruce and Mack had all they could do to hold her down effectively. Her left leg kicked sporadically about, and Henry Ferguson watched with lascivious amusement as those gyrations made her angrily reddened naked buttocks jerk and yawn and clench and squirm and weave in the most lubricious manner imaginable. It didn't take long to fetter her left ankle the same way, and when Ben Elverson straightened, Christine Bernard found herself with legs indecently straddled to expose the gaping, bright-pink, irritated lips of her tempting vulva, and to have the sinuous shadowy crease berween her reddened buttocks lewdly distended until her ravisher could very nearly see the dainty little rosebud of her virgin anus.
"Hey, we're getting tired holding Teach down," Bruce Melton complained. "Whyn't you tie her wrists like you just tied her ankles?"
"Good idea," Henry Ferguson decided. "Joey, put the camera down a second. There's some more rope over on the floor by the door there. Go get it and bring it here quick!"
"Oh, no-oh, what are you going to do to me? Can't you have some pity for me now, Henry? I've done whatever you wanted, you know I have, and still you're going to torture me-oh, please have mercy!"
Now, horrified to find her body so indecently and helplessly yawned and posed for the obscene gazes of her abductors as well as for whatever sexual exploits they intended, she again fought frantically by dragging at her wrists till they were aching and chafed. Her naked breasts jiggled with her exertions, mashing down against the rough surface of the table when the two boys holding her yanked her back down. Sweat glistened along her naked sides and in the mossy niches of her distended armpits. Her forehead was damp with sweat as well, and her beautiful shimmering dark-brown pageboy curls were tumbled over her right cheek. Her harlequin glasses remained to make her sensitive face even more provocative and saucy and sophisticated in direct and carnal contrast to the spectacularly suggestive way in which she was posed and in which she was attired. The tabs of her garterbelt were stretched almost to the breaking point, biting into the quivering flesh of her thighs on each side as they continued to hook up her beige nylons without wrinkle or flaw. Her pumps were still discarded on the floor where they had fallen during the spanking. Thus in stockings and garterbelt alone, Christine Bernard's voluptuously exciting body was now prepared for the most obscene and ego-shattering ordeal of all-the pillaging of her third and final virginity!
Joey Elverson had brought back the ropes, and Henry Ferguson now ordered the youngest of the group to find his jackknife in the back pocket of his discarded jeans and to cut two fairly long pieces. This done, Joey handed a length to Bruce and another to Mack, who then proceeded to tie Christine Bernard's wrists to the middle of the front legs of her table-altar of sexual sacrifice.
"Now that's a lot better," Henry Ferguson agreed as Mack and Bruce, released from their uncomfortable and prolonged pose of squatting down and holding onto her wrists Throughout the spanking and her enforced act of fellatio, moved around to the foot of the table to watch the proceedings. Christine Bernard turned her head back over her shoulder, eyes again blurred almost to blindness by the new tears that sprang into them. Her body arched and squirmed, and the lovely deep hollow of her back was augmented by the tight, spread posturing of her helpless almost-naked body. The adorable dimple at the bone just before the beginning of that mysterious, shadowy groove which separated the wonderfully jouncy and now dark-reddened cheeks of her voluptuous behind became even more visually exciting, thanks to this presentation.
Henry Ferguson now ran both hands over his English Literature teacher's naked buttocks, appraising them, patting and stroking and smoothing them, while Christine Bernard burst into helpless tears of shame and fright at this prolongation of the unknown ordeal. For all of her knowledge of the coital act by theory alone, of course, she was as yet incapable of divining what the youth who had taken her hymen as his ruthless prize now planned to perpetrate upon her defenseless body. The nausea from having taken his organ into her mouth and the still dully throbbing heat of the vigorous spanking she had endured, together with the tremendous muscular stress now enforced upon her straddled and draped-over body over the table had virtually driven away all but the most primitive and elemental instincts: those of survival and evasion of new suffering. At this moment, she would willingly have promised-and kept that promise, too-to be silent concerning this orgiastic sacrifice she had been made to make if only they would release her now and let her go back home to scour and wash her body as best she could to remove the vestiges of this male profanation.
"When I am finished with this, Teach," Henry Ferguson at last declared, still keeping his hands roaming slowly over her flinching and squirming naked hindquarters, "we'll let you wash up and get a little rest."
"Oh, God, oh, God, you mean you aren't going to let me go even after whatever you're going to do now? Oh, please, Henry, I'm going to be sick, I know I am-I'm so weak, you hurt me-oh, and these awful ropes are cutting into my wrists and ankles so hard-please, Henry, don't hurt me anymore, please let me go, I'm begging you humbly, can't you hear me beg you? What do I have to do to get mercy from you, please tell me, Henry!"
"Why, nothing at all, Teach baby," he grinned, slyly pinching the exquisitely tender flesh at the very beginning of the shadowy crease which cleft her tensing, reddened bottom-cheeks and making her squeal and start convulsively at the unexpected twinge of pain. "I'm the one that's going to do the work. You just hold still and take it like a good little bitch, that's all you have to do."
At this, the others burst into obscene laughter, exchanging knowing looks. Joey had taken up the camera again and was backing off so as to record the action.
"Like I said, Chrissy," Henry Ferguson now resumed after the laughter had subsided, "I don't have to use a safe because I can't give you a baby this way. I've always wanted to do this to a cute little bitch, and I sure can't resist now, not with that sexy ass of yours stuck out in my face just begging for it."
"Oh, God-what are you talking about, what are you going to do to me-for heavens sake, let me go, don't tie me like this, don't hurt me anymore, please!" Christine Bernard's voice broke with near-hysteria, and again she tried to wrench at her bonds. But the cords at her wrists and ankles held cruelly tight, and she succeeded only in chafing her sensitive limbs while at the same time providing her ruthless young captors with the exciting vision of her naked body weaving and arching, rubbing and twisting back and forth, shaken by countless convulsive tremors that raced from the sleek sinuosity of her calves along the deliciously rounding womanly thighs, up through the naked jutting globes of her spanked and condemned bottom, along her deeply hollowed back and shoulders and sides.
"I should have thought to bring some cold cream or stuff like that," he mused aloud. "Hey, I got it! Joey, get me some of those little packets of ketchup, I think it'll work on Teach!"
"I getcha!" Joey Elverson gave him a salacious wink, set down the camera and went back over to the discarded two paper bags he had brought from the drive-in. He came back smirking with self-importance as he handed Henry Ferguson one of the little ketchup packets. The stocky youth at once broke it open with his thumbnail, and then made a sign to Joey. As Christine Bernard looked back over her shoulder, her eyes widening in disbelief, the bespectacled youngster, with a nervous sensual giggle, leaned forward and, pressing his fingers on the inner curves of both buttocks, yawned them apart to expose the shrinking fissure of her anal rosette!
And now at last the heinous, loathsome and frightening intention of her violator was made manifest to mature, helpless, naked and pinioned Christine Bernard. "Ohhhhhhh!!! Oh, no, not that-oh, my God in heaven, you'll kill me-oh, this is dreadful-it's filthy, it's degenerate-you horrible pervert-you beast-no, you're not going to do that to me, no-I won't let you-let go of me-Joey, let go of me, go call the police-I can't-no I won't-oh, God-don't-no!"
But the grinning bespectacled boy continued to yawn apart her angrily discolored naked bottomcheeks, while Henry Ferguson calmly smeared some of the ketchup on his right forefinger and then, leaning forward and with narrowed eyes intently studying the exquisitely exposed, intimate terrain, deliberately smeared the lips of Christine Bernard's bottom-hole with the improvised lubricant!
A wild shriek of despair and hysterical abhorrence burst from the naked mature captive. Tilting back her head, her eyes mad with soul-despair, her face as red now as her buttocks from the shame this caused her, Christine Bernard dragged mercilessly at her bound wrists and tried to arch herself up from the table, sought frantically and with all her strength to twist her posterior away and to disengage it from those lewdly prying fingers which exposed the most shameful and intimate secret of her womanhood.
"Ohhh, nooooo!!" she shrieked as, at Henry Ferguson's sign, Joey Elverson now reluctanly moved aside and the victim's young initiator took over. "Don't do that to me, you'll hurt me, you'll kill me-oh, God, won't any of you boys have mercy on a helpless woman?"
"Relax, Chrissy," Henry Ferguson thickly chuckled, "from all I read, and from what my Uncle Dan tells me, no bitch ever died from a browning. Why, hell, bigger things have come out than what's going in right now, Chrissy baby. Just relax and don't fight it. I'll try to take it easy for starters. Now you better get ready, and you can kiss your last cherry good-bye forever!"
So saying, he sank his fingers into the angrily reddened bottomsummits and pried the globes apart to expose the shrinking, puckering rosette of Christine Bernard's virgin anus. Then, steering himself deftly, he pressed the tip of his ferociously erect penis against that dainty inlet.
Mad with shame and abhorrence and terror, the naked young woman tesisted with all her strength; lunging forward and trying to weave her hips from side to side, yanking mercilessly at her wrists in spite of the cost of pain which the chafing of the cords cost her tender flesh, tilting her face up to the ceiling and, with her mouth agape in strenuous and strident cries which mingled denunciation with abject pleas for mercy, she fought off the inevitable disaster as best she could in such hopeless circumstances.
But Henry Ferguson, a true master, however precocious, at the sadistic domination of the mature female, purposely prolonged his conquest of her final maidenhead by holding himself immobile with the tip of his organ just brushing her puckering anus. Already he could feel the onrush of new erotic fury in his testicles, and it was sweet torment for him to allow her to lunge and twist and squirm to the limit of her bonds, since this maneuvering rubbed that intimately tender and now inexorably condemned love-rosebud against the sensitized glans, and such erotic friction served to rouse him to even greater lust. A glowing triumph in this subjugation of the mature, bespectacled dark-brown-haired young woman took possession of him, and his eyes shone with a carnal joy that many a mature adult male would surely have envied him for.
At last, exhausted by her strenuous and futile efforts to escape what she could no longer prevent, Christine Bernard drooped her lovely head, her dark-brown pageboy curls tumbling to within a few inches from the dirty stone floor, and, closing her eyes, clenched her teeth in an heroic attempt to endure what she must while giving her executioner as little satisfaction as possible.
Mack, Bruce and Ben were standing almost against the table to Christine's left, staring at Henry Ferguson's imminent conquest of her final virginity. Joey had resumed the camera, standing at Henry's right, and now, at the latter's nod, set it to work once more.
His fingertips digging vigorously into the resilient, satiny, warm palpitating flesh of Christine Bernard's naked bottom-cheeks, the youth now thrust himself against that tender, furtive inlet. Christine Bernard couldn't suppress her strangled cry nor her convulsive jerking as she felt the tip of his organ rudely gouge the lips of her delicate anus apart and enter just half an inch within the narrow canal of her tender, sensitive rectum. Her teeth were chattering now, and she breathed in noisily, while she tried to keep her lips clenched to hold back the cries of pain and the appeals for mercy which she now understood her captors longed ro hear exude from her.
Never in all her life had she even conjured up the possibility that one day a male might take this kind of sexual pleasure from her flesh; certainly not willingly on her part, and therefore much less that it should now be taken from her by the force of subjugation and juvenile chastisement and degradation which had destroyed her vaunted maturity and femininity and compelled her to yield against the deepest moral strictures of her psyche to this incredible, precocious, predatory teen-ager.
"How's it feel, Hank? Is it real tight, like her twat?" Ben Elverson panted.
"It's a lot tighter!" Henry Ferguson gritted between his teeth. At the same moment, he pressed slowly forward, and this time Christine's lovely head rose, her eyes opening and widening exorbitantly, another strangled cry being torn from her by the unspeakable sensation of dilation and cramming, the like of which she had never until this moment experienced.
The muscles of her thighs and calves jerked and twitched uncontrollably now and she tried to arch herself on the toes of her stockinged feet which, straddled as they were, had to fight for purchase on the cold stone floor. This arching forward at the same time elevated her hips and thrust out her buttocks all the more wantonly to his pederastic manipulations. Moreover, it cruelly rasped her flattened naked breasts against the harsh, rough unvarnished wood of the old table to which she was bound.
Taking a deep breath, Henry Ferguson summoned all his self-control. For already he could feel the convulsive and spasmodic clenching which her sphincter made, in that protective ring which guards the very entry to the female rectal canal. Then, after a pause, he foraged forward, pressing down with his fingertips and at the same time keeping her quivering bare buttocks lasciviously drawn open so as to facilitate the penetration of his penis into her tight bottomhole.
"Oh, God-you're hurting-oh, take it out, I can't bear it-this is dreadful, you awful beast to do this to a woman-oh, my God, Henry, please, you're h-hurting me, I t-tell you, oh, please, take it out, take it out, you can-you can do the other thing to me-but for God's sake, please let me go now!" Christine Bernard suddenly moaned. Once again she turned back her piteously contorted, tear-stained and flushed face over her shoulder to beseech him for mercy and reprieve.
But this only fanned the flames of his already overwhelming lust, and it told him with a glorification of his own budding male ego that he, a seventeen-year-old boy, had conquered where no adult man ever had before. He could tell himself that no matter what befell Christine Bernard in later life, no matter what sensitive and kindly man she might marry, that man would never have the unparalleled joy of tasting all three of her virginities in a single night, never know the delicious and lewd joy of conquering her prudish feminine resistance and overcoming her haughty denunciation to the point of forcing her to submit to such demeaning ordeals.
"I'm going to put it all the way in whether you like it or not, Teach," he panted. "Just don't fight it, and it'll go in easier. Relax, and try to enjoy it. Uncle Dan says lots of girls just love it, only they haven't got the guts to admit it, especially until they've had their ass warmed by a good sound spanking the way you just did. Keep taking the movie, Joey. Only, get o couple of closeups of Teach's face every now and then, huh?"
"Right, Hank! Jeez, I'm getting so horny I wish we had another broad around here I could work out on," the bespectacled youngster gasped as he moved to the head of the table now and aimed the camera at Christine Bernard's again drooping head and tear-stained face.
Now he could feel even more strongly the convulsive "grippings" and "kissings" which her protesting sphincter muscles proffered as their only possible defense against this ruthless invader which was his surging demanding penis. And once again he had to pause to summon up his self-control, for he wanted to spin out this final act of conquest as much as possible to demonstrate to the beautiful mature victim that she could no longer have any claim to untouchable chastity and prudish aloofness.
When he was once more the master of himself, when Christine Bernard lay panting, shuddering and groaning softly over the table, his fingertips once again punishingly dug into the resilient, reddened summits of her distended bottom and at the same moment he again pressed home the attack.
With a shrill shriek, she announced this new and deeper probing of her innermost, narrow and untested tract, her hips arching and weaving while she remained obscenely harpooned by his turgid, swollen organ, whose dark-blue veins stood out against the tightly drawn skin. The improvised lubricant had begun to send a radiating kind of throbbing warmth and twinging all through her sensitive anal canal, and this added immeasurably to her distress and shame. She bowed her head, then lifted it, and turned it from side to side, her tumbled dark-brown cascade dancing from side to side as if the wind were catching it, as her body was shaken by spasms and tremors. She instinctively tried to repel this gross object which dilated the walls of her rectum almost unbearably now, by means of trying to strain as she might at stool. But he was too well planted now for that, and in turn she became even more atrociously aware of his plowing, distending ramrod which again moved forward: for by now he was buried inside of her to fully half his man-length!
"Oh, no-H-Henry-you're hurting me so-take it out of me, no more-I can't bear anymore, oh, for God's sake, do anything else you want, but please don't-take it out, oh, take it out of me right now, you hurt me so!" she wailed.
The whirring sound of the camera came vaguely to her distraught consciousness. Joey Elverson had returned to the head of the table to take closeups of her agonized, tear-stained and contorted face, then returned to the foot of the table to take an equal closeup of the cohesion between Henry-Ferguson's rampant penis and the beautiful mature victim's squirming, shuddering naked buttocks. The delicate lips of Christine Bernard's voluptuous and hitherto virginal anus seemed to be swollen in size, as if engorged with erotic blood, curling over the taut-skinned reddened shaft which was inexorably being forced into her bowels. Her stockinged toes were again fighting for purchase on the floor, and her body was subjected to a series of convulsive and nervous tremors as her over-sensitized feminine nerves reacted in shocked revulsion to this degrading penetration.
Now, feeling himself sufficiently well planted so as to be able to use his hands elsewhere on her perspiring, shuddering naked body, Henry Ferguson released her buttocks, at the same time leaning forward into her and over her, while his hands slithered along her naked, shuddering sides till they reached the sidecurves of her flattened, panting naked breasts.
"Make her lift herself up in front there, Ben," he hoarsely directed. Ben Elverson, nothing loath, hastened to the head of the table and, brutally taking hold of the tumbling sheaf of Christine Bernard's dark-brown hair, yanked it upwards mercilessly. With a scream of pain, the young woman tired to lift herself upwards, and at the same moment Henry Ferguson's hands slid under her and cupped her naked breasts. Greedily he squeezed and fondled them, rubbing his palms against their pointed centers, and then, with a groan of delight, he thrust himself home to the very hilt inside of her clenching, spasming rectal canal.
"Earrghhhhhoouuugh!!! Ohh, G-God, take it out of me, oh, you're tearing me to pieces, oh, Henry, for God's sake, I can't stand it, I'm going to die, I'm going to faint, please no more, oh, please, dear God, no more, I can't stand it, I tell you!" her voice was shrill and breaking, fraught with hysterical sobs and groans.
She twisted her face back towards him, heedless of the fact that Ben still gripped her hair and stared hungrily down at her shuddering, naked body. But Henry Ferguson was ready to cast all scruples to the four winds of heaven, for he could feel against his pelvic basin the grinding, squirming naked, warm-fleshed bottomcheeks of his beautiful captive, and best of all he could feel his entire manroot burrowed deep into her bowels, tasting the heady, perversely delicious stimulation of the frenzied convulsive spasms which her rectal walls now wreaked upon his conquering penis.
"Boy, you put it all the way into her brownie, you sure did, Hank!" Joey Elverson gasped, kneeling down and aiming the camera right at the juncture of the two bodies. "Boy, what I wouldn't give to do it to Chrissy just the way you're doing it!"
"Now, Teach," Henry Ferguson ignored this youthful adulation," it's all the way in, and you see it didn't kill you. Now just take it nice and easy, I'm going to bottom fuck you and then juice off. Like I said, you don't have to worry any, you won't get pregnant from this."
And lewd guffaws from the other boys made Christine Bernard's tear-wet cheeks flame once again with the mortifying shame of her by now complete degradation at their ruthless hands.
His fingers clutching her superb naked breasts, he leaned completely forward on her, his chin rubbing her sweating naked, beautifully hollowed bare back. Then he began to draw himself back, cautiously so as not to slip entirely out, till only about an inch of his organ remained clamped by the frantically protesting sphincter muscles just inside the lobbyway of her by now unvirgined bottomhole. As she moaned and sobbed, he thrust slowly back home till once again he was in her to his very testicles, tasting the exquisite and indescribable bliss of feeling his belly and loins grind against her jouncy, resilient naked buttocks whose uncontrollable spasms and squirmings excited him almost to bursting point.
And the heaving of her panting bare breasts which his eager fingers squeezed so possessively was still another erotically thrilling experience, cumulatively building up the many stimulations which aroused him as an adult expert of lovemaking might well be roused, not as simply a passion-ridden adolescent who can conjure up only the obvious way of obtaining sexual relief from the female.
Christine Bernard was almost delirious with shame and discomfort. Writhing, groaning and sobbing, babbling incoherent phrases as she strove to reason with him, to implore mercy, to protest that she was exhausted and could no longer endure such atrocious torment, she felt him dig brutally to the very hilt inside her distended bottomhole. By now the sensation there was excruciatingly sensitized, and she could feel every rasping shove of his tautly rigid organ as it scraped along the tender, quaking volutes of her anal chasm.
She felt his mouth move on her naked back, his lips forming panting kisses, and then the tip of his tongue rubbing her sweating, shivering bare flesh. Never before had she felt so used, the very puppet-plaything of male lust. She could not credence what was happening to her, so totally replacing all the prim illusions of marital union between the sexes in favor of this overpowering orgiastic rut which procured so many different sieges to so many parts of her helpless nakedness.
Her eyes were drowned in tears now and swollen again, as she fought for breath between sobs and gasps and babbled words while Henry Ferguson continued his delving in and out of her quaking, contracting, tenderized bottom-chasm. Her body fitfully jerked against the cords, trying to arch away, to swerve and weave, to rid herself of that probing and distending implement which seemed to split her asunder and make excruciatingly sensitive the tender membraneous canal which she had never dreamed could be so abused in copulation between man and woman. And worst of all, to know that a seventeen-year-old boy, a pupil out of her own class whom she had marked down as shy and retiring and hesitant, unable to continue an oral conversation in the classroom for very long, was the perpetrator of all these unspeakable ordeals-it was anathema to the ethos and very soul of beautiful, poised, supercilious Christine Bernard.
She heard him grunt with pleasure as once again he thrust to the very hilt, and she felt his belly smack against her still burning, throbbing naked behind. She groaned aloud, once more jerked again at her jerked wrists, and then let her head droop, conquered definitively. Her beautiful dark-brown curls fell to the left side down towards the floor, away from her tear-stained, contorted cheek. Her body shivered with erratic spasms now, for she didn't know that she was being drawn into that maw of lubricious sensuality which takes over from the most conscious prudery and, by dint of whetting especially innocent and unsuspecting feminine nerves, leads to a betrayal of the most virginal and chaste woman-flesh.
She could hear the hoarse breathing of the other boys as they crowded beside the table, and she could hear the faint whirring of the movie camera, desolately realizing that all this shameful and degrading animal act, which was like the canine coupling to a bitch in heat in season, was being preserved as a blackmailing weapon against her. She sobbed aloud to know that, and her body jerked once more.
But Henry Ferguson had reached by this time the limit of his youthful endurance. Even though the edge had been taken off by his conquest of her prime maidenhead, the excitement of forcing her to French him by means of a childish spanking and then this perverse thrill of entering her tender virginal anus clashed against his self-mastery. He began to gasp and squirm, feeling the tides of passion swell voluminously within his arching organ. Besides, the frantic contractions of her rectum against his imbedded penis would have sufficed to draw out the final burst of male essence even from the hardiest adult male! Without wishing it or knowing it, Christine Bernard's magnificent helpless naked body was beginning to respond in this coerced atmosphere of primitive lust.
But suddenly she was roused from her half-fainting, attenuated state by his sudden drawing back and then plunging forward again into her twitching, spasming and throbbing bottom-cleft. At the same time, his fingers pitilessly pinched the nippled crest of her heaving, sweating naked bosom, and then she heard him cry out in a hoarse bellow, "Oh, Jeez, I'm going to cum, Chrissy honey, I'm going to pour it into your asshole till it comes out of your ears, you sweet hot little four-eyed bitch-there-there-take it all!"
And with a last savage thrust, hiking himself a final time, Henry Ferguson released a copious jut deep into her shuddering, profaned bowels, and sagged over her, crushing her pitilessly down with his weight as his fingers clutched her shuddering breasts and taught her who was master whether she would or not.
Dark spots seemed to dance before her eyes, and the room seemed to fade into the distance, and it seemed to her that the buzzing of the voices around her was also in the background, forming a weird and inexplicable symphony of sound and color and sensation that she couldn't clearly define.
But then suddenly she uttered a sobbing, "Ohh, G-G-God!" as he suddenly pulled out of her with a noisy and salacious "Plop!" and staggered back, leaving her sprawled and tied over the table, the vestiges of his viscous sperm oozing out of her distended and puckering anus, stickying the tender crease between her buttocks and down along the inner edge of one spanking-reddened bottom-globe.
"Boy, that was really something," she heard him hoarsely boast. "Okay, you guys, untie her and let her go to the John. I bet she'll want to take a crap after that, I probably loosened it up for her, the sweet little bitch."
She felt hands against her wrists and ankles, other hands roaming along her calves and thighs, stealing up for a sly and furtive caress of her squashed-down naked breasts, but she was too weak, too emotionally and physically drained even to protest these final indignities. Then at last she felt the painful cords removed, and those same male hands pulled her to a standing position. She stood, head lolling, trembling fitfully, between Mack and Ben, who walked her slowly towards the narrow bathroom door in this basement chamber which had become the temple of her defamation and desecration.
"Oh, thank G-God-it's over-oh, I want to go home, I want to go home," she moaned feebly as Mack opened the door and, releasing her, pushed her inside and muttered, "Go ahead, tidy up good, baby, 'cause we want to see you at your best when you come back out."
CHAPTER TEN
"Say, Hank, you sure fooled Teach, I gotta hand it to you," Mack Benjamin muttered as he eyes the narrow bathroom door behind which Christine Bernard was still quartered. Ten minutes had elapsed since he and Bruce had led her in there. "How do you think Teach'll act when she finds out she's not going home right now, huh?"
"I told you guys before we pulled this off just how it was going to work, didn't I?" Henry Ferguson had put back on his jeans and sweater but left his shorts off, and. seated on the edge of the old mattress on which Christine Bernard had yielded her hymen, was puffing at a cigarette. "We're going to let her go tomorrow night and not before. Right now, the movies we've got are sexy enough, for sure, but they don't show her getting a kick out of what's going on. We've gotta have something like that for our own protection, just the way I explained."
"I know, but just now, before you browned her, she was yelling about going to the cops. Suppose she does? Jeez, that could get us into a helluva lot of trouble," towheaded. lean Mack Benjamin had a worried look on his angular face.
"I've got it all figured out. I told you about my uncle. Well, he's really the brains behind it. He's a swinger from way out, my Mom's younger brother is, and he's been to Paris and Hamburg and Amsterdam and banged plenty of cute pieces of quiff wherever he went, see? He's got little Chrissy all sized up. You guys all know how she acts like a cockteaser all the time, as if to tell you that she knows what a prick is and what her pussy is for, only of course she's got so many hangups she was still cherry when we got her."
"We know all that. But how can we be sure she won't blab and get us in Dutch?" Ben Elevrson wanted to know as he lit a cigarette and slouched down on the mattress beside the stocky seventeen-year-old "master of ceremonies".
"Now, listen," Henry Ferguson glanced around at the others, then at the door behind which Christine Bernard was hidden from their avid view, "the next step is to make her hot for fucking. When a girl gets it the first time, specially when she has to have her cherry busted the way I did, she's all uptight about what's happening to her and there's a little pain when you bust through the cherry-you all saw that and heard her carry on. Well now, she gets a little rest, and then she gets a little fooling around until she gets so hot she'll go off like a firecracker. That's when we really get some movies that we can hold over her so she'll keep her sweet little mouth shut. You just leave it to me, and like I said, my uncle knows what he's thinking about so far as Teach is concerned."
"Hey, she's been in there a helluva long time," Bruce Melton scowled at the door. "Maybe we ought to go in there and bring her back, huh?"
"Just leave her be. Even a cute broad like Chrissy has to go to the John sometimes, especially after the meal she had," Henry Ferguson gave his crony a lascivious wink.
"No, she'll want to tidy up and wash herself good between the legs in both places-" here salacious laughter interrupted him-"and you'll see, she'll come out pretty as a picture."
"We haven't got any beds for tonight, though," Joey Elverson worried.
"Dummy, don't you remember the blankets I brought along?" Henry reproved the youngest member of Christine Bernard's captors. "Chrissy gets the mattress, because she's our guest of honor. And not all of us guys are going to sleep at the same time, so there'll always be somebody to guard her. If we have to, we can tie her hands and legs so she can't get away." He glanced at his wristwatch. "It's going on eight o'clock. Now remember what I told you guys, nice and easy, don't rush things. We're going to keep little Chrissy till tomorrow night, so all of you can have fun with her. And by the time we send her back home to her cozy little apartment, you'll see, Teach is going to be a changed girl-if she's not, my uncle is going to lose the bet he has with me. Sure, he bet me a hundred bucks that if we did things just the way he said, Teach is going to be dying to get rogered. She won't be able to do without it, now you just wait and see if he's not right."
"But what if he isn't? You lose a hundred bucks, sure, but we might all get thrown in jail or expelled from school!" Mack Benjamin was frowning and glancing again at the narrow door.
"I told you to relax, Mack. First of all, don't you remember how scared Teach got when she found out we were going to take movies and use our Polaroid? Every time I said we might sell the movies to a stag house, she was just about ready to pee in her panties," Henry Ferguson patiently explained. "Do you think she'd want to have everybody at school, like Dean Munson, know that she was shacking up with five guys, all young stuff? It wouldn't do her teaching career any good. Don't think she isn't thinking about that. Anyhow, you worry too much. All of you were in on this from the start. You kept asking me, the first time I hinted that maybe there was a way to get into Teach's panties, that you'd do anything to get your chance. Well, now you've got it. Only, when you screw her, do just what I told you to. Work on her and get her hot. I wasn't trying it for her first time just because I know that broads who haven't had it before have to go through the initiation, like losing the cherry. Hell, I thought all you guys were cocksmiths, the way you were bragging about the broads you've shagged. Hey now, keep it down, Chrissy's coming out!"
He rose from the mattress, crushed his cigarette out under his heel, as the door opened and Christine Bernard emerged. He had guessed just exactly right: she had had to evacuate her bowels as a direct result of her first experience with sodomy, and she had almost hysterically washed and sponged and dried herself to eradicate the physical traces of her matyrdom. Her head bowed and her face downcast, one hand protectively shielding her furry mount, she slowly walked back towards her captors.
"I-may I have my clothes, please, H-Henry? I-I want to go home," she quavered.
"Not right now, Teach." Henry Ferguson moved towards her, slipped an arm around her waist and put his other hand on one off her swelling naked breasts. She uttered a faint little cry and tried to wriggle out of his embrace, but he pinned her to him. "Don't fight it, Chrissy, you want to cooperate, don't you? You know we've got all these movies and those snapshots from the Polaroid, and you know what we can do with them if you're not nice."
"N-nice?" she tearfully echoed, her face turning scarlet to the ears. "How can you talk like that alter what you've done to me? You promised-you know you "did, Henry'-if I-I-let you and d-did what you wanted me to-you'd-you'd let me go. Please. I'm so tired and weak and I feel so awful, please let me go now. Haven't you done enough to me already?"
"Now you be good or Daddy will spank again," Henry Ferguson chuckled. His right hand left her breast and moved around behind her to glide lingeringly and lovingly over the jouncily rounded satiny cheeks of her bare bottom. Christine Bernard squealed and tried to push at his chest, but his left arm pinned her effectively up against him. Purposely, he pressed his crotch against her curly-thatched mount of Venus, and then he kissed her hotly on the mouth. Joey Elverson, unbidden, had hurried to get the camera, and was kneeling down and setting it into action to preserve this seemingly cooperative embrace between ravisher and victim.
She was struggling now, crying, too, almost hopelessly as she began to realize that somehow this precocious youth had cruelly tricked her. "Oh, my God, Henry, that's not fair!" she moaned as she pushed at him, twisting away from his embrace. "You promised-"
"I just promised I'd keep the other guys from shagging you, Teach," he husked as he pulled her back to him, both his hands boldly gripping her now by the naked buttocks. "And so far I've kept my word. But you're not going any-, where else tonight anyhow, so you might as well spend the night here with us. And speaking of cooperation, sure, you let me give it to you because you didn't have any other choice. From here on in, Teach, if you really wanna save that cute little pussy of yours from my four pals, you better concentrate on trying to get real sexy so you know what's going on, understand?"
"N-no I don't, oh, I think you're just horrible-oh, please-you've done everything to me-I wouldn't even let my husband do these awful things you've done-and-and now you won't let me go-oh, please, I'm tired and I'm weak and I'm sick of all this-have mercy on me, Henry!"
"You're going to rest a little, and nobody's going to bother you for a while, Chrissy," he domineeringly decreed. "Then we'll see how you behave. Now get over to that mattress and lie down and try to catch up on some shuteye, you hear? If you don't do what you're told, I'll just have to spank your sweet bare ass again, won't I?"
At this allusion to the shamefully humiliating juvenile chastisement by which she had been coerced into performing her very first act of Frenching on him, Christine Bernard turned a fiery red and bowed her head. Tears edged from under her fluttering eyelids as, head drooping, she slowly turned and made her way to the back to the mattress, sat down on it, and then quickly rolled over onto her side to face the wall, huddling herself into a ball to make herself as small as possible from all those greedy eyes which profaned her.
The five boys moved to the other end of the basement, for a council of war. "Look, Hank, you know what you said," Ben Elverson hoarsely muttered, glancing back at the mattress and the shrinking, huddled pink-and-white nakedness of their delicious victim. "I've gotta have a piece of that pussy as my share of helping you out on this deal, and you know it!"
"I know. And you're going to get it, too. Let Chrissy sleep a little while, and we'll catch forty winks ourselves. Then you can wake her up like Prince Charming did the Sleeping Beauty," Henry Ferguson chuckled softly. "I'll stand guard over the door just in case she wakes up and tries to sneak out. Besides, it's locked and I've got the key in my jeans. Give her about an hour or so, and then you can have your turn just the way you cut the cards. You and then Mack and then Ben."
"Hey," Joey Elverson anxiously spoke up, "what about me?"
"Yeah, I guess you might as well lose your cherry too along with Chrissy," Henry Ferguson grinned.
It was almost nine-thirty and Christine Bernard had fallen into a drowsy slumber brought on by her emotional crisis and the exhaustion which her prolonged and varied physical ordeal had evoked. Her captors had amused themselves during this interim by playing poker with a deck of cards, keeping records of their fanciful bets which of course would never be paid off. Finally Ben Elverson rose, glanced at his wristwatch and then muttered to Henry Ferguson, "I'm dying to get my ashes hauled, Hank, how about it?"
"Go ahead. Remember how I told you to give it to her, though. The secret is in waking a cute bitch up, and from now on we're going to do just that. She's had a taste, and she thinks we're just crude jackrabbits. Now she's going to get surprised," the precocious master of ceremonies explained.
Ben Elverson swiftly stripped off his sweater and jeans, yanked off his shorts, and in only loafers and socks, stared with greedy anticipation over at the huddled pink-and-white body on the mattress. Then very carefully he scuffed off his loafers, and moved stealthily forward towards the drowsing, unsuspecting young woman.
Joey, who idolized his older brother, had, unbidden, retrieved the movie camera and got it ready for the next dramatic action. Bruce, Mack and Henry Ferguson crept behind Ben, for each had a part to enact in this next act of the drama wherein beautiful, poised and aloof Christine Bernard would be altered from agonized victim into carnal convert! And that was the crux of this entire concept, the master plan behind the theme itself which had, like a catalytic agent, started a series of chain reactions whose culmination would be the convertion of an unattainable, untouchable demi-vierge into an uninhibited, primeval female who would be governed totally by the overpowering physical sensations of concupiscence and lust....
Ben Elverson reached the mattress and stood looking down, his fists clenched, his face flushed, his eyes narrowed and sparkling with ferocious and hungry desire. His penis was long and angular-looking, with a mushroom-cap-like glans that made it seem even broader and more formidable. It was in savagely full erection now, and his testicles were gnarled and profuse with dark-brown hair, shifting and tautening from the sensual energy which consumed him.
He turned now to his fellow conspirators and Henry Ferguson handed him a prophylactic. Swiftly Ben Elverson fitted it along his turgid organ, smoothing it out till it was a second skin to encompass the full measure of his virile young manhood. And then, compressing his lips and trembling with the overpowering anticipation of what was about to take place, he reached down to the naked young woman.
Christine Bernard stirred at that moment, and moved slightly. Then she uttered a stifled cry as she felt rude hands upon her shoulders, wrenching her onto her back. But before she could be fully roused and summon all her energy to the defense of her vulnerable nakedness, Mack and Bruce reached for her wrists, seized them, and dragged them beyond her head as they knelt down at the head of the mattress on the old metal frame.
"What-oh, no-my God-Henry-what are you doing-no, no, I won't let you, you're not keeping your promise-I won't-you shan't have me-I'll scream-I'll call the police-oh, this is cowardly, don't, you're hurting-what are you doing to me-oh, my God--no, no!"
For Ben Elverson had nimbly gripped her knees and forced them up back against her heaving naked breasts, thus uparching her voluptuous loins into the most lascivious posturing conceivable. Her knees flattened those glorious bosom-rounds, while her buttocks were upturned and the pink cleft of her vulva was salaciously gaped and exposed at an angle ideal for copulation! Henry Ferguson now quickly moved to the head of the mattress, reached over and took hold of Christine's stockinged calves to hold them tightly back so that she was helplessly forced into this obscene and readied pose. Joey, moving over towards the foot of the mattress and at an angle so as to commandeer the scene, excitedly began to operate the camera. And Ben Elverson, now free to do as he would because his lovely prey had been so effectively immobilized and readied, knelt down on the mattress and, like a high priest paying homage to a pagan goddess, gripped Christine's bare writhing hips with his sturdy-fingers and plunged his mouth against the tempting pink mouth of her quivering, reddened vulva, which still showed the irritation caused by the very first copulatory penetration of her entire twenty-five years!
"Let me go--you filthy, horrible young brutes-not all of you-oh, my God-Henry, Henry, you promised-no-I don't want you to do-ohhhh-aahhh-eeyeeyourrrr!!! Oh, what are you doing to me-stop it, stop it, you horrible, filthy, degenerate beasts you! Oh, my God-please oohhh-oohhuuuuu-eeyaiiiii!!"
A torrent of sobbing, wailing, groaning pleas tore from her panting mouth as she turned her face restlessly this way and that, her eyes bulging behind the provocative harlequin glasses. Her dainty toes crispened and perorated wildly against the sheer beige nylon stocking sheaths in her duress.
Her fingers clawed at the grip Bruce and Mack had on her slim wrists, and she frenziedly tried to twist herself away. For Ben Elverson was applying long noisy sucking kisses against the inner lips of her vulva, those chaste-looking soft delicate petals which led to the paradise of her narrow, warm and palpitating vaginal chasm. His fingers squeezed her naked hips in a possessive manner that left her groaning and almost beside herself, but overall the tumultuous series of carnal agitations set off in her loins began to displace all other consideration.
"Get her face too when she starts to get squirmy, Joey," Henry Ferguson called, tenaciously gripping the backs of Christine Bernard's knees to continue to flatten down her panting bare breasts and maintain her thus angled for this exquisite and treacherous cunnilingus.
"Oh, stop it, you're vile, you're horrible beasts all of you-ohh-ahhh-ahhh-my God, what are you doing-oh, this is shameful-I want to die-ohh-ahh-you, ohuuu-please stop-I can't stand it-ahrrrr-oaiiii-" her voice rose and fell like the soaring and then diminuendo of a solo violin, and her contorted face continued to move restlessly back and forth. Her fingers clawed the air now, jerking to free her wrists which Mack and Bruce tightly gripped to prevent her freedom. Her body had begun to betray her. By now, Ben Elverson, well coached by the precocious master of ceremonies, had begun to use his tongue. First, rasping the tip along the shadowy groove which led to her second orifice of pleasure, he brought it back along her upper inner thighs, alternating on each while she struggled and writhed and groaned and sobbed. Then, capriciously applying a loud wet kiss against the very center of her love-mouth, he began first to rub his tonguetip against the outer lips, making a complete circle, and then suddenly to flick it all over the inner petals of the vulva.
The naked bespectacled helpless young woman arched and squirmed frantically, but the telltale nerval and muscular reactions of her hips and loins evidenced the enormity of this unforeseen Tantalus. Her buttocks clenched spasmodically, only to yawn with constant tremors, gaping the narrow sinuosity which led to her anus. The anus itself, puckering and clenching, tremoring like a vibrant entity all its own, took part in this erotic upheaval of her most hidden and subtle feminine nerves. The exacerbation of her loins manifested itself indirectly but inevitably in the stiffening of her pert rosy nipples, and her face was scarlet as the wave of hot blushes traversed her entire voluptuous naked body.
"Don't forget what I told you, Ben!" Henry Ferguson, peering down to watch his "pupil" perform, instructed.
"Yeah, right now. Get ready for a real thrill, Teach!" Ben panted with a knowing smirk. Shifting himself a little on the mattress to get a better angle, he again bowed his head and thrust out his tongue. But this time its tip attacked the dainty nodule buried in the soft protective cowl of pink love-flesh right above the orifice that led to her vaginal sheath!
"Eeeyeeeeeahhoouuu!!! Ohh, G-G-God, oh, don't-ahh-ouuuu--oh, please-H-Henry-make him stop-I can't stand it-oh, you horrible brutes, you filthy horrible creatures to treat a decent woman like this-oh, I can't endure it-I want to die-kill me-but don't torture and shame me this way-please-oooohhh-aahhh-aiiiieeeee!!!"
Her body thrashed savagely despite the concentrated grip of Henry and Mack and Bruce. Joey Elverson, his own penis in wild erection now, moved quickly back to the head of the mattress to pose the camera near her contorted, flushed face, capturing indelibly the flaring nostril-wings, the rolling, hugely dilated, tear-filled eyes, the panting mouth. Then he moved back as quickly to resume the filming of Christine Bernard's first experience of a male tongue against the lodestone of her innermost emotions, her virginal clitoris. For this key to her innate and deepest womanhood hadn't yet been usurped by the predatory young males who had so ingeniously and calculatedly entrapped and degraded her.
"Boy, I can feel the little bitch wriggle like an eel!" Ben Elverson hoarsely announced as he lifted his flushed, lust-twisted face to his cronies.
"You got her tickler then, didn't I tell you that was the way to make Chrissy wake up and smell the coffee burning?" Henry Ferguson sardonically joked. "Just keep it up, the way I told you to. Don't rush things, we've got all night and tomorrow too. By the time we're finished, Teach is going to learn lots of lessons they don't have in school books. Joey, get a few shots of Ben with Chrissy's button, then get back and give me a good closeup of her cute face when she feels the hots!"
"Oh, no-stop it-you're driving me crazy-I can't stand this-oh, it's filthy, degenerate-help me, someone-oh, let me go, you're hurting-my legs, my b-breasts, stop it, I'm begging you!" Christine Bernard hysterically babbled.
But Henry Ferguson maintained his steely grip on the soft dimpled hollows of her stockinged knees to force them back down against her panting round firm breasts, and Bruce and Mack continued their relentless hold of her slim, jerking wrists. Ben Elverson, his penis gigantic with rut and threatening to burst through the condom, once more bent his head down to the hugely straddled, obscenely bared gape of Christine Bernard's moist, twitching vulva. As Joey moved forward with the camera again, the latter could see very plainly the swelling, distinctly turgid nodule of Christine Bernard's clitoris, for the first time wakened into a new and overpowering life that would soon drive out all inhibitions and restraints from the beautiful mature yet till now virginal young woman.
He could see the lips of her vulva twitch and palpitate, contract and shrink, as a vibrant, throbbing sensual agitation took possession of her very womb. Her fingers and toes were scrabbling, her naked satiny hips jerked and squirmed restlessly and uncontrollably against his digging fingers, as he stared hungrily into the sweet pink lovemaw of Christine Bernard's voluptuous vulva. And he could see also, lewdly uparching and proffered as in wanto surrender and beckoning, the shadowy inlet which led to the dainty shrinking fissure of her no longer virgin rectal sheath.
"Oh, cripes, Hank, I gotta fuck this bitch," Ben hoarsely gasped. "You've had all the fun so far, and we've just stood around for laughs. I'm going out of my skull watching Teach here get it, when can I screw her?"
"Just the way I told you, when you've got her worked up to a frazzle. Now go ahead. This was all part of the deal." Henry Ferguson's voice disclosed unsuspected authority.
Ben scowled at him, shook his head, muttered something under his breath, and then, with a sigh of resignation, bent his head odwn once more. Instantly Christine Bernard stiffened, her eyes rolling in their sockets, her head turning back and forth and her nostrils wildly yawning and contracting. Her breasts, too, partook of this same erotic turbulance, though her stockinged knees crushed them back against their sweet orbis. Yet her nipples were darkened and turgescent, a certain sign of her amorously wakened if long-dormant nature. And by now she herself had become aware that her own chaste body was betraying her; she had held out almost heroically against her violation and then the humiliating, childish chastisement which had compelled her first to perform the obscene oral act of homage to her young initiator's penis and then submit to the final loss of her third and last virginity. But this unexpected, startling interlude, which had come upon her without warning virtually in her sleep, which had no pain or punishment implied within its scope, was rapidly becoming the clue that would lead the hidden way down the labyrinth of her most secret female emotions and bring the knowledgeable teen-agers to their greatest triumph ... one that would encompass all that was known of degradation and subjugation of the mature and poised and aloof young woman by boys hardly out of puberty!
And thus, acting upon orders from precocious Henry Ferguson, Ben Elverson, two years Henry's senior, once again foraged his tonguetip right up against the cowl of love-flesh located above the twitching wet lips of Christine Bernard's agitated vulva. Once again he rubbed against her clitoris, forcing it back into its hidding place, then letting it spring out again, always more turgid and darkening now with the flow of erogenously wakened blood to that exquisitely sensitized lodestone.
Christine Bernard's cries were raucous and unintelligible. Her body jerked and threshed as if activated by a galvanizing motor deeply within her loins. Tears ran down her cheeks, which were scarlet with her shame and emotion and her inner dread of what was taking place in her, far beyond her strongest control. The flexions which raced along her calves and thighs and made her bottomcheeks clench and yawn beyond her own volition and muscular command told significantly of this siege against her most embattled instincts and ethics. She had become, in a word, no more than palpitating, helpless womanflesh preyed upon by the cunning and calculated erotic science which young Henry Ferguson had known how to convey to his comrades in this clandestine adventure whose purpose, as yet dimly glimpsed, was to alter the very lifestyle of this fascinatingly haughty patrician and virginal young woman!
Ben Elverson paused a moment, frantically impatient over this daliance which afforded him no relief for his own overly goaded lust. But a peremptory nod from Henry Ferguson made him grumblingly swear under his breath and return once again to the devious compulsion of Christine Bernard's now fully enervated and awakened loins. Once more the tip of his tongue burrowed against her clitoris, rolling it back and forth, into its hiding niche, then letting it spring forth again in throbbing, turgifying erection that simulated a miniature male organ. For a moment, he varied the attunement of the naked, moaning and sobbing victim by rubbing the side of his tongue over the quivering lips of her wet, slick, still inflamed vulva, and then capriciously grazed the outer labia with his wet hot tongue. But this was only a moment's diversion before once again he planted his face in the very center of her matrix and dug his tongue as he might his own organ deep between the lips of her vulva, rasping the inner walls of the sheath, and then withdrew and straightened.
Joey had rhapsodically continued to film this exquisite cunnilingus; at Henry Ferguson's sharp "Now!", he hurried back to the head of the mattress and directed the camera down into Christine Bernard's contorted, almost unrecognizable and yet even more beautiful face. Her glasses were misted by the tears which blinded her dilated eyes, and her mouth gaped as a continuous gurgling sob and moan exuded from them. Her nostrils flared and shrank, and her bosom heaved wildly against her compressing stockinged knees. Her entire body was now shaken by fitful shudders, and her head had begun to roll from this side to that, the cords of her soft slim pink-and-white throat standing out furiously against the perspiring satiny skin.
"Now, Hank?" Ben Elverson's voice was that of a tortured soul.
"Yeah, now, give it to her good and hard. And you, Joey, move the camera back and forth from her face over to you know where," Henry Ferguson directed.
Ben Elverson needed no second encouragement. Kneeling upright, his left hand palming the mattress for support, his right thumb and forefinger gripping the shaft of his bulging organ, he directed it against the glistening pink gape of Christine Bernard's quivering vulva. He engaged the white-sheathed spearhead between those delicate lips, and then sank forward, steadying himself on both palms planted on either side of her.
"Ohh-aahh-oh, God-oh, stop it-oh, don't-aahhh-eeeouuu!!! no, H-Henry, oh, my God-oh, take it out-I'm going to die-ahrrr-oh, please-aah-aiiii-ooohhh-eeyearrrhhh!!!"
For as Ben Elverson slowly and victoriously dug home to the very hilt, Christine Bernard lifted her head, her eyes rolling to the whites, her mouth gaping as her body jerked and threshed and arched up like a bow, wanting to unleash the maddening frenzy of tumultuous sensations which had burst the dam for the first true time in her own sheltered life of twenty-five years. Ben Elverson could suddenly feel the convulsive clamping of her vaginal walls against his imbedded, sheathed penis. And as he drew back slowly, only to thrust home again, the dam finally sundered and all of Christine Bernard's violent and long-suppressed emotions took hold of her as might a whirling vortex and drove her willessly and helplessly and fully into sexual fulfillment.
Her long, piercing and prolonged cry drew an answering bellow from Ben Elverson. Undone by the exquisite clenching of her vaginal walls against his overladen penis, he felt himself lose all control, and even as Christine Bernard's naked, pinioned and doubled-back body jerked and bucked and arched in wild abandon, he sagged forward over her, feeling his own vital essence burst into the protective thin-skinned sheath of the condom.
The aim of Henry Ferguson had at last been accomplished. Now there could be no doubt of Christine Bernard's full "cooperation" which these films so expertly and lovingly taken by panting, flushed young Joey Elverson would show beyond the possibility of discussion or argument if they should ever be needed to enforce a mature teacher's silence against her abductors and ravishers!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They moved away from the mattress draped over the old frame now, contemplating their conquered victim. Christine Bernard lay sprawled, one hand pressed over her mount, the other arm flung out behind her, her face turned towards the wall, her body shaking with bitter sobs of crushed and definite defeat. She might have told herself until this atrocious moment that her ordeal hadn't destroyed her purify in the sense that she had resisted as much as she could against her strong young male ravishers, endured even the painful and mortifying torment of the spanking, and, pinioned as she was, had been unable to escape the supreme degradation of being sodomized. But after what had just taken place, even rationalizing couldn't explain away the furious, involuntary response her naked body had made to Ben Elverson's sly tonguing of her most intimate anatomy and then the vigorous copulation which had drawn her over the edge of the precipice and into the uninhibited and shameless abyss of sexual fulfillment. She who had indignantly sent her own fiance Henry Brandt away for having tried to make love to her-and by comparison his essay had been almost laughably tame-now after a few short hours had felt her loins jerk and throb and vibrate as if she had been a passionate whore earning her hire and finding her partner's virility so powerful that she couldn't help but join him in the animal frenzy of release!
That awareness, that realization, was a pitiless blow to her heretofore haughty and selfish psyche. It had destroyed her, insidiously trampled down all the bastions of her defense, her stoicism and her contempt for the five youths who had dared to trick her into this ill-fated rendezvous and had then turned upon her like ravening wolves hungering for their helpless female prey.
The tears she wept now were for her own vanished pride and self-esteem, for the ignominy which made her flesh crawl in the knowledge that, virgin though she had been and so esteeming herself as superior to other women who were swept by carnal passion to be subordinate to men, she had writhed and threshed and finally surrendered the key to her long-hidden emotions there upon this dirty mattress on an iron frame with three boys holding her, another taking moving pictures of the degrading, shameful act by which the fifth boy had drawn her to almost the behavior of a nymphomaniac.
"Boy, you sure hit the nail on the head, Hank!" Ben Elverson panted, shaking his head with disbelief as he lewdly stared over at the sprawled, shuddering body of the victimized young woman. "I guess we have to admit that you know your stuff when it comes to fucking. Hell, I'm the oldest here and I've probably screwed more broads than all the rest of you, but I've never yet made a piece give down the way Teach did just now. Boy, was that ever something! How the hell did you find all that out, Hank?"
"Never mind. I told you I learned a lot from my uncle. But we're not going to talk about him. Now then, we'll let Chrissy get a little more rest, and then Mack and Bruce and Joey can have their turns. But all of you guys, just remember how Ben got her to shoot her wad and really give. That's what I told you all to do, and you see how well it worked. You'll have a lot more fun that way, and Teach won't be able to lord ir over you because those movies ate going to remind her that, right then and there when Ben was doing it to her, she wanted it as much as he did," Henry Ferguson told his enthralled audience of four.
"Let's ger the blankets and catch some shuteye," Ben Elverson now proposed as he pulled back on his jeans and donned his sweater. "Bur I'll rell you this, Hank, I want seconds with that little bitch. Boy, has she ever got a tight twat!"
"There's plenty of time through tomorrow, so take it easy. I'll stand guard at the door and have me a cigarette. Joey, there's a glass in the medicine cabinet. You might run Chrissy a nice cool glass of water and make her take it, she'll feel better. That way, you can get close to her and see what she's got," Henry Ferguson amiably directed as he strolled over to the far door and leaned against it, taking out a pack of Pall Malls and lighting one.
Joey Elverson hastened to obey. He came back with a glass of water and knelt down beside the mattress. "Here you are, Teach," he said in a husky, strained voice. His eyes were feasting on the erotic upheaval of Christine Bernard's beautiful round pink-and-white breasts, at the suspiciously rumpled curls of her pubis which were moist from the treacherous release of her own secret love-effluvia. He licked his lips, and he slyly put his left hand to the crotch of his jeans and rubbed his swollen young penis. "Drink this, you'll feel a lot better."
"Oh, please-let me be-oh, God-I want to die, I just want to die." Her voice was choked and muffled.
Overhearing this, Henry Ferguson called from the door, "Don't get uppity again, Teach! You go ahead and drink that water. It will do you good. Or maybe you'd like to go over the table again for another fantailing?"
"Oh no!" Christine Bernard suddenly sat up, her eyes wide with alarm, glancing fearfully at her young subjugator. Tightening her legs together and putting her left hand over the thick curls of her cleft, she reached out her right hand for the glass of water and sipped it, then turning away towards the farthest wall so as to diminish the display she made of her delectable nakedness. Still clad only in garter-belt and the beige nylons, she looked nothing so much like a beautiful young collegiate call girl who had agreed to take on a young fraternity gang for a special fee. And as she glanced up after her first long sip, seeing Mack and Bruce and Joey standing nearby watching her with undisguised smirks of lustful admiration on their faces, she turned scarlet with shamed confusion. From their mocking looks, she could understand better than any words could tell her that, young though they were, they knew what had happened to her just now.
"Please, Henry," she said in a piteous little-girl voice, when are you going to let me go? Please be decent-I don't know what more you can possibly want of me, you've just about ruined me-and when I think-I don't know how I can ever teach again-about s-s-seeing you in class on Monday-I'm going to have to resign or find another job or something-oh, this is just awful!"
She began to sob distractedly, and Joey rather awkwardly took the glass from her trembling hand before she could drop it. She covered her face with her hands and bowed her head, an abject picture of feminine distress at bay. But just as it might have done with a mature adult male, that exquisitely feminine attitude of total helplessness-together, of course, with her delicious and wanton almost-nakedness served to inflame their lust, not at all their compassion.
"Goddamn," Mack Benjamin growled, "I'm next with Teach, and I hope to hell I don't have to wait much longer. I almost went off in my shorts already just watching Ben muffdive that sweet pink little slit of hers!"
Henry Ferguson strolled slowly back towards the mattress and the iron frame. "I told you, tomorrow. Now, it's time for you to get a good night's sleep so you can be up bright and early on Monday and get ready for class again, Chrissy," he ironically replied.
"Ohh, no-I told you-I'd die of shame if I had to see your faces in class again-and you'll talk-all of you-it'll be all over school-and Dean Munson-"
Already there was a subtle change in her hitherto fastidious and contemptuous nature. Perhaps because of her very youth, Christine Bernard had determined upon a policy of treating her pupils, even the most intelligent ones, with a kind of arrogant disdain. To begin with, such an attitude spoke of scholastic authority, which she had by right of her being a teacher. Also, it announced to all and sundry that she didn't wish the slightest kind of personal relationship with any of her students. But it had been a veneer of protective, self-centered ego, a carefully studied facade behind which her true feelings had been withheld, even from her own conscious self. The truth was, though as yet Christine Bernard didn't quite realize it, that here in this basement on this Saturday night, she was coming closer to the moment of truth about herself than she had ever come before.
"Now that's a lot better, Teach," Henry Ferguson chuckled good-naturedly. "I'm glad to see you've cooled that huffy holier-than-thou outlook you were showing us a little while ago. Now we can have a rap session and get to know each other just the way we ought to. Chrissy. The guys here aren't going to blab, you can take our word on that. That it, if you keep putting out the way you just did with good old Ben there."
"Ohhhh!!" Frantic indignation and shame again sent a fiery blush suffusing Christine Bernard's exquisite piquant face, on which there were still glistening tears on her pink-and-white cheeks, tears that made her eyes huge pools of limpid distress behind the sophisticated harlequin glasses. And still reacting ingenuously, her hand pressed even more tightly over her mount of Venus at this intimation that these incredible young male animals hadn't yet finished with her.
"Like I said," Henry's voice broke demandingly in upon her jumbled, feverish thoughts, "we're not exactly dummies, even if you sort of let us know in class you thought we weren't much better. I know that I for one do a lot of reading on the side besides the assignments you hand out, Chrissy. Like for instance, there's a new book by Irving Wallace, The Fan Club. Have you had a chance to read it yet?"
Wordlessly she shook her head, not daring to look up at him, her left arm crooked and her face pressed into the forearm with her chin against her dimpled elbow-niche.
"Well, it's all about some guys who meet in a bar and find out they all have the hots for a gorgeous movie star, you know. And they talk about what a kick it would be to have her put on some private parties for them in bed and have her all to themselves. So they work it out and grab her and keep her for a couple of weeks and have one helluva time. I guess you might say I sort of got the idea about you from that book, Teach. So you see, maybe I'm grateful to English Lit in more ways than one."
His cronies laughed lubriciously at this quip, and again Christine Bernard's lovely face burned with mounting embarrassment.
"Anyhow, you don't have to worry. Monday, we'll be back in class and there won't be a peep out of us. And nobody's going to hear unless you want to talk about it."
"Oh, my God, no! But I still don't see how I can go back and teach-not after-not after this-" she groaned.
"Why, you can sort of pretend ir was like one of the books you're always telling us to read. About using your imagination, you know. When it's over, it'll be over. Of course, we'll have memories-and we'll also have these movies and the Polaroids, don't you ever forget those. That's just in case you want to start getting huffy again, Teach."
"I-I won't-but please-H--Henry-if-if I give you my word I won't-I won't tell anybody-would you-please-please destroy those awful things? Just suppose you were ever to show them even among yourselves, and somebody found out and recognized me-I'd want to die!"
"We'll think about it, Teach, after we see how you behave. Anyway, maybe you want to go to the John again, huh?"
"Y-yes-I would."
"Go ahead. We've got all night and tomorrow too."
"You mean-you aren't going to let me go now, even if I beg you and promise you I won't talk about-about this?"
"Afraid not, Chrissy. You see, we're all in on this. And so far just Ben and I have had our fun. Now that wouldn't be fair to Mack and Bruce and Joey, would it?"
"Oh, God-you mean they're going to-oh, please no-I don't want them to r-rape me-"
"It won't be rape if you don't fight it, Teach," he chuckled knowingly. "Go freshen up and take your time.
Hey, maybe you'd like another burger? The stand's open all night, isn't it, Joey?"
"Sure it is, Hank."
"Oh no-I-I couldn't eat anything-please-can I-can I put some of my clothes back on now? It-it's a little damp and cold in this awful place-"
"You won't be cold too much longer, Chrissy. Now go ahead. We can always spank that cute big tail of yours if you really want to get warmed up, you know." he jibed.
With a flurried little cry of fear and shame, Christine Bernard swiftly rose from the mattress and hurried to the narrow door of the bathroom, disappearing behind it, amid hilarious laughter from the quintet.
"Hey, that uncle of yours must be a shrink or something," Mack Benjamin turned to Henry Ferguson. "I knew you were an egghead, but I sure as hell didn't know how much you knew about broads. Why, you've practically got little Chrissy there eating out of your hand."
"That's not the only place she's going to eat out of," Henry Ferguson bawdily retorted with a broad wink which drew another boisterous burst of laughter.
Joey meanwhile got the blankets and spread them out on the floor not far from the mattress and iron frame. After about fifteen minutes, Christine Bernard emerged from the bathroom, face downcast, hands still pressed against her mount and the other arm crooked over her swelling naked breasts. Hastily she returned to the mattress and seated herself, hunching over, again to diminsh the naked display of herself which she couldn't help making before these profaning male eyes.
"Hew, how about a cigarette, Teach?" Ben Elverson proffered a pack of Luckies from the pocket of his jeans.
Christine Bernard nodded, extended a trembling hand for the cigarette which the eighteen-year-old youth expertly tapped out of the center, and he took out a monogrammed lighter and flicked it for her, leaning to her as he did so with his eyes devouring the dimpled, beautifully hollowed pink-sheened sculptuary of her bare back. "Hey, Hank," he called after he straightened, "the spanking marks on Teach's cute little ass have just about gone."
Christine Bernard uttered a horrified gasp at this obscene comment on her naked charms, and tightened the muscles of her thighs together as her protective hand pressed even more tightly against her mount. She puffed nervously at the cigarette, blinking away the tears that still came to her eyes.
"See, it's a lot better this way," Mack Benjamin gruffly explained. He was standing in front of her, his hands rubbing against the sides of his hips, and already his penis was beginning to ache and bulge against the tight fly of his jeans. "We really like you a lot, Teach, and that's no lie. I mean, not just about this-well, sex stuff. You know what I mean. You know how to put your stuff across in class, and you don't lay too much homework on us. The only trouble is you've been so damn snotty we didn't know what made you tick or if you thought yours smelled-well, yen know what I mean."
Christine Bernard's cheeks turned crimson. It was unbelievable that she should be sitting here naked except for garterbelt and stockings, seated on a dirty mattress which had been her nuptial bed tonight, hearing herself discussed by one of her own pupils who had cut cards for the privilege of having enforced sexual relations with her. She was all mixed up, and yet somehow she understood that by being calm and rational, she had a much better chance of avoiding the humiliation and the discomfort which had been meted out to her when they had bent her over the table and spanked her behind to make her do those awful th-things.
"I-I don't hate any of you, I guess," she said slowly and faintly as she took another faltering puff at her cigarette. "But you certainly can't very well expect me to like what you've been doing to me. Entering that theme and getting me here-"
"Now wait a minute, Teach," Henry Ferguson broke in. "Why don't you be honest and tell us why you really came? One thing we figured, you might just turn the theme over to Dean Munson and let him try to find out who wrote it. Why did you come all by yourself way out here in the sticks?"
"Because-because I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that awful thing," she lifted her scarlet, exquisitely provocative face to her interlocutor. "It-it was psychopathic-I mean, it shocked me to know that anybody felt about me like that. And the person who wrote that could have been a-well, a sex maniac or something like that, a danger to the whole school. I had to come and find out who it was so I could reason with him and get him to ask for psychiatric help. That's why I came."
"Oh, no you didn't, Teach," Henry Ferguson chuckled. "Deep down inside, maybe you won't admit it to yourself, but you were sort of wondering and maybe even hoping that something like this would happen if you came out here all by yourself."
"Ohhh! That's-that's not true!" she indignantly gasped, staring at him wide-eyed, her hands still pressed tightly over her fluffy pubis. "If it was-well, a nice person who had never done anything like that before and who was a good student, I thought I owed him at least a chance to apologize for it and to show how dangerous it could be if he kept on thinking and acting like that. That's the truth, Henry Ferguson, and I don't care if you believe me or not."
"You talk pretty good, Teach, but then you always did.
Only, when Ben really gave it to that cute little snatch of yours, that was the real Chrissy," was Henry Ferguson's audacious answer.
Once again Christine Bernard gasped, shrunk back against the wall, her other arm huddling over her swelling naked breasts as she stared, absolutely consternated, at this precocious youngster who seemed to probe her innermost feelings and thoughts, even beyond her own comprehension.
"I-I think you're just horrid to talk about things like that, Henry Ferguson! Oh, please-please let me put something on. You don't know how embarrassing their staring at me is when I'm-like-like this!" she stammered, her voice breaking tremulously.
"Uh uh, Teach," he grinningly shook his head. "Somewhere I read that when there was a war and they were interrogating spies, the best way was to strip them all naked because that took away a person's confidence and made them be honest and face up to reality. And right now, the way I see it, and I think the other guys here agree with me, Teach baby, this is the first time you've ever been real down to honest facts with us guys since we came to your class."
"You-you're just dreadful! Can't you imagine what I must be feeling now, soiled and d-damaged-"
"Relax, Chrissy," againg he interrupted her, with an arrogant confidence to his voice that left her stunned by his authoritative and subjugational way of domineering all of this activity which had begun so incredibly from the first moment she had entered this printing shop. "If you know anything about sex at all, Teach, you know that it's only back in the Middle Ages when a girl's cherry was the most important thing in her life because she had to marry a guy and bring it to him or he'd say she was a whore. So we busted your cherry, but that wasn't such a big thing. So maybe you didn't like it at first, but if you want us to show you that movie when Ben was giving it to you, you'll see that maybe your mind didn't like it, but that sweet little pussy of yours sure as hell did."
She uttered a strangled cry of consternation and deepest shame, once again shrinking back against the wall, huddling herself over to minimize the display of bosom and thighs and belly which her nakedness proffered to these grinning five boys who surrounded her. They had greeted Henry Ferguson's apt comment with salacious laughter which made her cringe and shiver and her eyes once again filled with tears.
"No, that's a fact," her stocky initiator relentlessly pursued. "If you married a guy now, Teach, he'd probably be glad you weren't cherry so he wouldn't have to have the mess of busting it on your wedding night. And he'd probably be damn glad you had a little experience so you knew how to wriggle that cute ass of yours and hold on to him with your arms and legs when you were getting it."
"Oh, my God, please stop talking like that, it's vile, it's-disgusting!"
"Oh, sure, I can use fancy words the way my uncle does-I know a lot of them already. But I think I'd rather talk to you the way a guy would who's fucked a cute little bitch and made her know what's what for the first time. It seems to get to you quicker than a lot of high-faluting conversation, Teach."
She bit her lips, averted her face, which burned with a furious crimson from his scathing analysis of her person and her psyche. Never before in all her life had haughty young Christine Bernard been so subjected to turning a pitiless spotlight upon not only her own body but also-and what was most terrifying to her sense of security and self-esteem-her innermost feelings and thoughts.
"So that's why," he continued, "your cherry is gone forever and nothing will bring it back and it doesn't matter anyhow. And since we've got the movies and you're getting some sense enough to agree that talking about this wouldn't do any of us and you especially any good, and since you're going to stay here until tomorrow night, you might just as well make up your mind to look at it like a sort of fun thing. Personally, I think you'll get to like it, and we'll get to like you better and you us. Now isn't that the sensible way to think about things, Chrissy?"
"Oh, no--oh, please-you certainly aren't going to-not any more-I don't think I could-I'm so tired already-and the awful things you've made me do-" she panted.
"Maybe you have to be convinced again with another little spanking, Teach."
"Oh, please don't do that to me! I'd just die of shame!" she pleaded, looking up frantically at him, tears running down her cheeks.
"Well then, why don't you try to put it out of your mind that you're Miss Christine Bernard, English Lit teacher at Midland, and just pretend you're out for a hot weekend with some nice guys who want to make you happy? You can make it easy on yourself and we'll be real good to you. Otherwise, well, the rest of the guys who haven't had their fun might just get the notion that you need taking down a couple of pegs, Chrissy. So what's it going to be?"
The half-smoked cigarette had dropped from her trembling hand, and Mack Benjamin crushed it out with the toe of his loafer. He stood only inches away from her, licking his lips and trembling with the furious desire to convert this dialogue from a conversational into a copulatory one. Already, his vigorous young penis was straining against the crotch of his jeans, and he put his left hand surreptitiously over it and squeezed the groove of the glans as if to force back the bubbling lust-lava which surged along the urethral canal in its yearning to find haven in Christine Bernard's warm tight pink quivering love-core.
"Look at this way, Teach," Henry Ferguson again prompted. "What's done is done, and you've got our word from all of us, that nobody's gonna blab about our little weekend together. And you've also got our word that we won't show these movies and Polaroids around unless we hear that you've gone to the fuzz or Dean Munson. So that just about cancels all the worry all of us might have, you included, Teach. And since you have gotta spend some time here with us till tomorrow night, you might as well have more fun out of it and just let yourself go. You can tell yourself you couldn't have stopped it anyway, because we're five pretty strong and young guys and you're just one naked piece, so there's no use blaming yourself."
"But this is so-so callous, so shameful!" Now she covered her face with her hands and bowed her head, the muscles of her clenched thighs flexing violently. "I-I always thought that sex was to be enjoyed with someone you loved-not like this-so awful and cruel and-"
"Cut out the lecture and the sermon, Chrissy," the stocky youth jeered. "Maybe your mind hated what Ben did to you just now, but your twat sure as hell didn't. And just to prove how wrong you are when you try to talk down to us guys, it's Mack's turn with you now because he won the higher cut for deal ahead of Bruce and then Joey. Besides which, you say you're getting a little cold. Well, Mack'll warm you up real nice. Go ahead, Mack."
"Oh, boy, it sure as hell is about time!" the eighteen-year-old youth panted. Scuffing off his shoes, he pulled off his jeans and sweater, then yanked off his shorts, and was naked except for socks. His organ was of average length, but seemed much larger and more menacing because of the exceptional thickness of the shaft and the exaggeratedly broad plum-shaped format of the glans, whose lips were already tightening and twitching in feverish anticipation of the pleasure to be accorded to it.
"Oh, no-not any more-oh, you're just fiends, you're monsters, to want to do this to me all the time-a woman can't stand so much-oh, please, Henry, have mercy on me-you've got what you wanted from me, won't you all be content now and let me go, I'm begging you humbly, I am!" the young woman frantically wailed, recoiling against the wall.
"No sale, Chrissy," again it was Henry Ferguson who dictated the terms of her capitulation. "We're all going to use safes, so you won't have to worry about getting a baby, that's understood. And you can take your choice: either you be a nice accommodating bitch and let Mack bang you, or we'll hold you down again and we'll maybe spank you first for being so uppity. Hurry up, because Mack can't hold his load back much longer-what's it gonna be, Teach?"
They surrounded her now, avid young hunters pressing in upon their helpless prey, and Christine Bernard shivered at the naked menace in their eyes. She shifted on the edge of the mattress till she was at the very head of it, receding all she could up against the wall as if to vanish through it and escape this nightmarish, unending ordeal of shameful degradation as the plaything of five teen-age youths who had stripped her not only of the veneer or the aloofness but also-although the full moment of her awareness of this wasn't yet at hand-the prudery of her conditioned psyche.
"I guess Teach wants to get warmed up by having her cute little ass fantailed before she fucks, you guys," Henry Ferguson chuckled. "All right, bend her over the table. Mack, you can go into her from there just as well as you can on top."
"I can go into her any way she wants so long as it's done fast, before I lose it," the older boy groaned, cupping his throbbing penis with his right hand and pressing his thumb pad against the meatus to force back the bubbling tides of his young male essence.
But as Bruce Melton and Ben Elverson reached down to seize her by the elbows, Christine Bernard again tearfully capitulated, "Oh, no--don't touch me-don't sp-spank me-I-I'll do what you want-only for God's sake be gentle with me, don't force me-it's so horrible when you do that-oh, please, Henry, give me some time-I'm still sick and-and exhausted from all that's happened to me tonight-please give me a little time, please!"
"Hold it, you guys!" the young master of ceremonies commanded. "Let her go. All right, Teach, but it's understood that you're going to be real nice to Mack when you're ready, understand?"
Her eyes swimming in tears, her head bowed, she nodded helplessly, then again began to weep in soft choking sobs that shook her shoulders and made the magnificent round naked breasts dance and giggle in the most exciting way.
"You can have just five minutes, Chrissy. Then you get on your back and open those cute legs up and let Mack in for a piece, you hear? Otherwise, it's over the table and I'll use Ben's belt on your cute ass myself," Henry Ferguson threatened.
They moved back now, all lighting cigarettes, excitedly whispering among themselves, but their eyes never left the huddling, trembling naked beauty on the mattress. Presently Christine Bernard controlled her sobbing, straightened slowly, her face desolate and her eyes huge and red from all her tears. Once again the provocative mien which those harlequin glasses gave her exquisite face intensified their lust. The naked youth waiting to be next with her now sat down on the edge of the mattress, staring greedily at her.
"You've got two minutes, Teach," Henry Ferguson volunteered. "Now you're not going to fight him off, are you?"
Dolefully she shook her head, not daring to look at her tormentors.
"That's being smart, Teach. And you'll let him do whatever he wants without putting up a big fuss. Let me hear you say it real loud so we can all hear you!"
"I-I'll let him do what he-wants-but please-be-be gentle with me-please-I'm still so-sore down th-there-please have him be g-gentle-" Christine Bernard's voice trailed off as a new series of sobs made her shoulders quake and her magnificent bare breasts bob with an erotic rhythm that was fascinating to behold.
"We'll all be real gentle with you, Chrissy, once you show what a good girl you can be," Henry Ferguson told her. "Ninety seconds to go before your next fuck, Chrissy."
"Ohh-d-don't use those ugly w-words-oh, please, I just can't b-bear it--just can't you-do what you-have to and--and-don't talk?" she moaned.
"But that's being a Puritan, Teach honey, as you ought to know pretty well," he mocked her poignant, ingenuous appeal. "That's the whole trouble with this country, not facing up to the real facts of life. I can see where you got your hangups. Maybe your folks told you sex was dirty and stuff like that, and maybe some guy made a pass at you the first date and you couldn't see him for dirt. I think my Uncle Dan was right when he said we might be doing you a big favor-"
"Oh, my God-but that's just dreadful to say-who is your uncle-I don't even know who he is-oh, the shame of it, to be talked about like that-oh, I want to die, it's so disgraceful!" again she burst into tears.
"You've only got half a minute left now, Chrissy, so you might as well get on your back and spread those cute legs of yours. Mack, her stockings are getting just a little bit wrinkled. Sort of pull them up. I like to see nylons real smooth and tight on a cute girl's legs, specially Chrissy's." Henry Ferguson directed, adding a new nuance of subjugational enslavement to his masterful program for the beautiful aloof Christine Bernard.
Slowly, dejectedly, Christine Bernard twisted and extended her legs along the thick, lumpy, torn mattress. Then, her arms at her sides, her face twisted towards the wall her eyes tightly closed, she abandoned herself.
"Jeez, what a gorgeous cunt Teach has got," Mack Benjamin panted as he leaned towards her, his fingers slyly stroking her left leg from knee to the welt of the beige nylon high on her deliciously rounded thigh. Then delicately, using the tips of both forefingers and thumbs, he took hold of the welt of the stocking-sheath and tugged at it until Henry Ferguson nodded that he was satisfied, and then proceeded to do the same thing to the stocking on her right leg. As his fingers brushed her bare skin, Christine Bernard stiffened and gasped, biting her lips again, and they could see the cords of her neck stand out against the moistly sweating, soft satiny skin.
"Joey, get one of those blankets, double it up, and stick it under Teach's ass," Henry Ferguson now directed.
Christine Bernard's eyes opened and she lifted her head, her lips parting in an expression of shocked dismay at this unforeseen pause in her renewed martyrdom.
Joey hurried up with the blanket while Henry Ferguson commanded, "Raise yourself up a little, Teach, let him stick it under you--there, that's the way. All right, Mack, she's all yours. Remember what I told you."
The doubled blanket had the effect of arching up Chris tine Bernard's loins in the most wantonly inviting manner calculable. The soft pink lips of her vulva gaped and were more prominently proffered, showing the still irritated flesh of her defloration. But now Henry Ferguson imposed a still further delay, precisely calculated to intensify the young woman's mortification. "Here's something you could use, Mack, besides the safe. It'll help give Chrissy more of a thrill and make it easier for you to bang her." With this, delving into the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a tube of mentholated cream and tossed it to the naked youth seated on the edge of the mattress beside the quivering, shrinking, helpless, bespectacled young woman.
"I get it, Hank-thanks, hear?" Mack Benjamin chuckled thickly. Unscrewing the tube, he squeezed some of it out onto his right forefinger and then began to dab it over the twitching lips of Christine Bernard's vulva, smearing the entitre area as well as the outer labia.
The warm glowing radiation of the menthol made Christine Bernard squeal and squirm lasciviously as if indeed she had been converted into lascivious and urgent need of the violation that was about to take place on her most intimate flesh. Tears again edging from under her fluttering eyelids, her fingernails digging into her sweating palms as she clenched her little fists and tried to remain stoically resigned to her inescapable fate, she whimpered, "Ohh-it ... hurts-it burns-oh, why are you doing this to me-I said I'd do what you wanted-oh, please, don't hurt me anymore, don't shame me anymore like this-I'm begging you, oh, Henry, you must hate me to do all these awful things to me!"
"Just the opposite, Teach. Now put the safe on, Mack, we wouldn't want our little English Lit teacher to get preggie," Henry Ferguson amusedly remarked.
Mack Benjamin had had a condom clasped in his hand, and he now fitted it carefully, panting heavily as he did so, over his swollen organ.
And now the moment of truth had come once again for Christine Bernard!
Kneeling between her straddled legs, pushing them even more aside to gain complete entry for himself, Mack now set his hands on the fronts of her thighs and, holding them tightly, bowed his head and began to kiss and lick her vulva as well as the outer labia.
"Oh, don't do that--oh, that's shameful-oh, I feel just like an animal when you do an awful thing like that to me-oh, please stop it-do it and get it over with-oh, please do it to me and end it!" Christine Bernard panted, her voice rising shrilly as the osculation of his hot wet mouth began once again to send spasmodic tremors through her wakened loins.
But even as her head began to turn restlessly back and forth and her fists to grab back and forth over the mattress in her duress, Christine Bernard's next destined ravisher halted his oral and lingual homage to her twitching vulva. Kneeling up, he now slid his hands under the blanket which raised her loins so wantonly, and, angling his stiffened, white-sheathed sexual spear towards that jink cleft, inserted himself between the delicate, extraordinarily sensitized lips and pushed slowly forward.
"Ahhh-oh, G-God-oh, please-please not hard-ohhhh!" Christine Bernard caught her breath, and squirmed, her head falling back and her face once again twisting to the wall as she closed her eyes desperately tight-shut.
"Gawd, is she ever tight, does it ever feel good-oh, boy, I just hope I can hold it long enough to give her a real banging," Mack Benjamin panted as he stretched slowly out over her. His hairy chest flattened down her swelling breasts, and his mouth fixed on the bewitching, pulsating hollow of her satiny young throar.
Once again he, just as Ben Elverson before him, could feel the convulsive tensing of her vaginal muscles against, his imbedded manroot. He halted himself there for a long moment, fighting for self-control, taking several deep breaths; and then, squeezing the cheeks of her saucily sounded velvety naked bottom, began the slow rhythmic in-and-out movement of copulation.
Now both her hands drew swiftly back to cover her scarlet, averted face; her body shivered endlessly, her stockinged toes curling this way and that as her feet moved back and forth to frame his mounted body tightly lodged over her and into her sweet saddle.
One of her knees had drawn up into the air, swaying back to bump against the stone wall, and she gasped with the sudden shock of sensation which made her even more wretchedly aware of her sexual surrender to one of her young abductors.
"Show how nice you are, Teach, put your arms around his neck and hold on tight," Henry Ferguson instructed. "Otherwise, we'll think you're still being uppity, and that could lead to a good sound fantailing on the bare!"
"Ohh-y-you're just horrible to me-" Christine Bernard sobbingly blurted. All the same, still keeping her eyes shut and her face turned to the wall, she hesitantly hooked her beautiful pink-and-white skinned arms around her young ravisher's shoulders, drawing a groan of pleasure from Mack Benjamin.
He drew back slowly now to the very brink of her vaginal tract, hovered himself a long pulsating moment to taste the indescribable bliss of feeling her love-walls vibrate and throb as if in impatient yearning for his return-to this dramatic and dynamic extent had Christine Bernard's womanflesh been conditioned, at incredible variance with the prudery of her upbringing and her own narrow and theoretical concepts concerning sexual activity.
Then, without warning, he thrust himself home to the very roots, and she groaned and gasped, arching and squirming under him. The continued and increased warmth of the menthol which he had smeared over the lips of her vulva became a stimulant; his condom-sheathed weapon had rasped some of that sensitizing ointment into her vagina itself, and Christine Bernard now began to feel intolerable palpitations and warmth seething in her narrow love-canal.
She felt, too, the possessive squeezing of his fingers against the succulent base of both her bottomcheeks, and those pinches increased when he thus warned her that he was about to thrust home again. Again she stiffened herself awaiting that eviscerating lunge; and when it came, the force of it wakened new tides of involuntary response from her hips and thighs and even the swelling, firming nipples of her panting breasts flattened under his hairy chest.
He began to kiss her throat and chest now, and now his left hand slipped closer to that shadowy groove between her tensing, squirming bare buttocks as he drew to the brim again, his forefinger edged up against the crinkly rosette of her anus. Christine Bernard uttered a shrill, "Oh, don't do that-noooo-please no!"
But even as she struggled, even as she tried to lift one hip and avert this humiliating indignity, Mack Benjamin's forefinger edged between the puckering lips of her anus and lodged inside her tightening rectum to the knuckle. At the same time, quickening his gait, he thrust again and again at short range, his belly clashing against hers.
Christine Bernard's fingernails clawed at his shoulders, her face twisted this way and that, and now her eyelids drew back, her eyes bulging and glassy with tears, her mouth gaping in a prolonged, wordless cry of "Ohhhouuueeyah-rouuuu!!!!"
Then both her knees flung up into the air, yawning widely, only to clash over his sinewy naked buttocks, as she felt herself wrenched apart by a cataclysmic force that defied all her scruples and strength and pride. Her body quaked and jerked, adhering to his, till even in her vague blackening oblivion, she could feel the grind of her belly to that of her ravisher.
She felt the explosive jut of his essence into the skintight thin receptacle which housed his rampant weapon. And that in turn triggered her own unwanted, overpowering response. Her head fell back, her arms flung out almost in cross, as she lay whimpering and gasping in the throes of orgasmic completion.
And there could be no more doubt that Christine Bernard had become a woman at last, brought to primal and honest surrender even against her fastidious and haughty will and narrowly selfish female ego.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Thy let her go to the bathroom after Mack Benjamin had pulled out of her, ecstatic with the pleasure he had enjoyed merged with her perspiring, shuddering and responding naked body. Scarlet to her ears, Christine Bernard had stumbled towards the bathroom and disappeared behind the door, after which the buzz of excited male voices had drifted even to her ears behind that door. "Boy, talk about a change of life," Mack Benjamin was exulting. "I thought we were going to have lassoo Teach and hold her down while I put the prong to her, but did you guys see how she gave down when she felt me in that tight little box of hers?"
"You wait until I get my crack at her," Bruce Melton grimly promised, rubbing his lean chin and staring impatiently at the narrow door behind which the naked bespectacled young woman was sequestered.
"Don't go at her like a bull, Bruce," Henry Ferguson advised. "You already saw how my little idea worked when Ben and Mack there tried it."
"Okay, but can I give it to her when she gets back out here?"
"No, you're going to give her a good half hour to get some rest. Look, jerk, we've got her in the frame of mind that she knows the damage had been done and she understands that she might as well take it nice and easy rather than get roughed up while she's with us. So don't spoil it. I'll bet by the time we let her go back home tomorrow, you won't know Chrissy at all," the stocky ringleader smilingly predicted.
"Well, anyhow, can I screw her in any position I want?" Bruce Melton demanded.
"Sure you can. Nobody says you have to do it the same way everybody else does. Just tell her what you want. If she won't come across, over the table she goes with her ass up in the air for swats, it's that simple," was Henry Ferguson's smirking answer.
But inside that narrow, dimly lit bathroom, Christine Bernard was seated on the edge of the dirty old tub, her face covered with her hands and sobbing softly, trying to choke back those sobs lest her abductors overhear them. And yet there was a singular difference between the tears she shed now and those she had first shed when, aghast at the fate Henry Ferguson had planned for her once she had been trapped in this basement printing shop and forced to come to grips with her captors' physical lust for her, those tears had been drawn by indignation and shame and cringing fear. Now, her eyes smarted from tears that were those of self-recrimination and almost disgust with herself; twice now within the short span of an hour her body had eagerly answered the virile, lusting drive of her young ravisher. It was unthinkable that she, who had been an utter virgin until tonight, should have been moved to such emotional shattering by these terrible boys! She no longer knew what to think about herself or them.
And perhaps for the first time in her life, pampered and sheltered as she had always been, Christine Bernard at last dried her eyes and, gingerly spreading her thighs a little, put her trembling fingers to the chafed-looking lips of her vulva and drew it open to peer into her own delicious, pink-tinted orifice. Had she changed? What was there different about her now, what made her body throb and vibrate, made her senses reel to the point that she could no longer realize what was happening to her? How had it been that, revolted by what that awful boy Henry Ferguson had wanted to do to her-and then made her do even more shamefully when she had been bent over the table to be spanked-she could seemingly forget all that degradation and humiliation and let an utterly strange boy put his sex organ into hers and draw her against her very will to trembling, overpowering acceptance?
It had shaken her equilibrium at its very base, and she felt herself lost and helpless to comprehend what was happening to her in so short a time. And with the cold edge of the tub against the base of her naked pink-sheened bottom, she was more conscious than ever of her unclothed availability to these five teen-aged boys, who, precisely because they were young, wouldn't be content with a single violation of her most intimate person.
At last she rose, her cheeks flaming from her guilty shame at having looked at her own private parts, stared again into the mirror and then resignedly walked to the door and opened it. The buzz of their voices stopped at once as they turned to watch her emerge. With her fingers, she had tried to comb her tumbled disheveled pageboy curls into some semblance of order, and the shimmering cascade caressingly kissed her bewitching shoulder blades and the soft quivering neck.
"Can I please-can I go to sleep now, Henry?" Throughout this seance, Christine Bernard had directed all her questions and petitions to the stocky youth who had initiated her into the priapic mysteries; now, subconsciously, she did so because she recognized him as the leader of these five young predatory males, and better than that, as the keenest intelligence of them, doubtless responsible for all of her ordeal.
"Not quite yet, Teach," he said with a sly chuckle. "Fair is fair, you know. But I've been talking to Bruce and Joey-they're last with you, you know. And they've agreed to have you take care of both of them at once. That'll save some time and you can get to sleep earlier. And we'll probably catch some shuteye till about noon tomorrow. But then we're going to wake you up real good, Chrissy baby."
She shrank back, once more her hand clamping over her mount, as her cheeks flamed to this not only distressing but obscenely terrifying news-two boys at once! But how was it possible, and what would they demand of her?
As if comprehending her unasked question, he glanced up and down at her till her blushes deepened and then said, "Well, Joey is sort of underage. So for his first time, he won't mind if you use your sweet little mouth on him. Then Bruce will just fuck you, but you can take care of both of them at the same time. I'll show you how. Don't get excited about it, no big production. You feel better now?"
"Oh, no-not both of them-but this is-you're making me a prostitute, Henry-oh, its unspeakable, degenerate-"
"Watch it, Teach!" he raised his voice warningly. "That's the old line of chatter you gave us, and it could cost youi ass a whaling, a real good and hard one. I told you it won't be hard. If I know Joey, he'll go off just about the second you get a good mouth-hold on his cock. Now get over to that mattiess, and you, Bruce, give Teach a cigarette and let her have a few puffs so she can settle herself down to the way it's going to be done."
She gasped aloud, her eyes staring at him as if she couldn't believe that so precociously endowed a youth existed, a boy who had been reticent in class and yet here in this basement took charge of her with ruthless knowledge of all her feelings and who seemed actually to revel in her gradual descent into the mire of degradation to which he was compelling her with each new nuance of compulsion.
Then she gasped again because Bruce Melton was stripping naked except for his socks, and taking a pack of cigarettes out of his jeans, lighting one for himself and another for her in his mouth at the same time, and then moving towards her with his lean sinewy lark-veined penis bobbing in the air as he approached, handing her one of the cigarettes.
She almost dropped it, having to stoop to catch it in midair, with a gasp of shamed embarrassment, and they saw her breasts jiggle and jounce in the most appetizing way, saw the thick dark-brown fleece of her pubis no longer shielded from their burning gaze. Hastily she moved over to the mattress, sat down to face the wall and with her back toward all of them, leaning forward and closing her eyes as she puffed at the cigarette. Again her mind was reeling, and she felt the flesh of her inner thighs twitching and the nipples of her breasts almost aching with a restless, hardening sensation that was inexplicable.
She knew the famous de Maupassant story about the French prostitute who had offered herself to the German officer to save all the other women during the Franco-Prussian War. She remembered-she had been sixteen at the time she had first read it-wondering how taxing and torturing it must be for a woman to have to submit to a man's rapacious lusts repeatedly throughout a single night, and how she had wondered-again with a guilty feeling over having such improper thoughts-how many actual times the man had raped that poor girl before he had been finished with her. Now, it seemed to Christine Bernard, she was living that story herself. And yet the singular thing was, the unbelievable thing was, that she didn't find it within herself to try to escape or to struggle or to fight then off. It seemed now that Henry's voice came to her out of a kind of void in which she, standing far apart from her real self, would make passive and yielding answer. And yet she, the real Christine Bernard, was powerless to intervene and tell her physical counterpart to deny these awful boys what they wished of her trembling naked body.
"I'm ready when you are, Chrissy baby," Bruce Melton said hoarsely, tossing the cigarette onto the floor and stamping it out with the heel of his socks-clad foot. "You don't have to get all naked, Joey, you're too young, haw haw! Just open your fly and get your cock out for Teach, Hank'll tell you what to do!"
Joey turned an embarrassed red and mumbled something about some guys being too snotty for their own good, but Henry Ferguson shook his head and whispered something to the youngest boy. Joey scowled, then nodded, and slowly opened and emerged a commendably stiff pale-skinned penis.
"You could have been a lot more in it if you hadn't jacked off, Joey," Henry Ferguson chuckled. "All right, Teach honey, now this is the way you're going to do it. Get on your hands and knees and spread those cute legs of yours. You're going to get it dog-fashion from Bruce, and Joey is going to stand up in front of you and feed you cock. You'll do it just the way you did with me, with that cute tongue and sucking it with your lips until you work him off. Understand?"
"Oh, this is disgraceful-oh, please-if I have to-if I have to do what you want-isn't one-one enough at a time-oh, please have mercy!" Christine Bernard's voice broke with anguished shame.
Careful, Teach, your ass is in danger from Bruce's belt!" Henry Ferguson warned, shaking a mock-warning finger.
Once again a violent blush of shame suffued those tear-wet lovely cheeks, then the bespectacled young woman uttered a groan of resignation and, bowing her head, dropped the cigarette to the floor, then got onto the mattress on her knees and crawled to its middle. Closing her eyes, planting her palms solidly, she crouched in an attitude of fearful waiting.
And yet, in the exquisite hollow of her lower back, which set off the almost impudently wanton thrust of her naked palpitating buttocks, there was a kind of fatalistic submissiveness to this pose, one at total variance with Christine Bernard's earlier attitude. It was perhaps a symbol of what had taken place, a regenerative development of her entire psyche and personality, through the magical medium of her own naked, quivering and finally tutelaged flesh.
Bruce Melton was fitting a condom over his stiffened weapon, while Joey, panting with ill-concealed excitement, stood with hands on hips, blushing self-consciously as the other boys winked at him.
Bruce Melton now knelt down on the mattress behind the naked young woman, reached out his lean strong fingers and cupped the dangling fruits of her shuddering bare breasts. She gave a startled little gasp, sucking in her breath nervously, and her body quivered voluptuously as she tightened-all her muscles. Perhaps instinctively, her knees shifted a little closer together, and it was Henry Ferguson now who had taken up the movie camera and was aiming it on this incredibly thrilling scene. Keeping his left hand on her left breast, Bruce Melton moved his right palm down her belly till he came at last to the thickly thatched apex of her femininity. Then his fingertips began to press lightly here and there all over the palpitating lips, and Christine Bernard uttered a stifled little sob and squirmed uneasily.
"You better tend to Joey, he hasn't got all the self-control all we other guys have," Henry Ferguson directed.
Chrisrine Bernard seemed to nod. Her face was flaming and her eyes were still closed as she groped for Joey's hips with her hands, and then lifted her face and opened her mouth. Henry Ferguson nodded to the excited youngster, who promptly arched himself forward till the tip of his organ passed between her parted, trembling rosy lips.
Again she uttered a gasp, which was muffled because of the obstruction of male flesh, and at the same moment Bruce Melton began to tickle her clitoris with his forefinger. Her eyes opened widely, a startled look dawned on her lovely, flushed and still tear-stained face. Her bottom bent, then arched up, then squirmed from side to side. Bruce Melton was massaging her left breast gently, and now his right forefinger had begun to tickle the rims of her vulva.
In the bathroom, Christine Bernard had sponged her vulva and also inserted a bit of the wet towel deep within the lips so as to eradicate the still smarting mentholated cream which had been used as lubricant for her further initiation into adolescent fornication with her as mature partner. Bur the warm and throbbing and persistent glow of that substance still lingered, and it, too, was responsible for the tremoring which surged along her hips and inner thighs, made her belly quake and shiver, and caused her to squirm involuntarily each time Bruce Melton's forefinger frictioned this or that sensitive spot in the most delicate orifice of her woman-being.
Joey wore no condom; it was the naked, turgid male organ which Christine Bernard's fastidious mouth now sucked upon, passively. Yet the wonder was that she accepted it at all without gagging and regurgitating-but that was what she did. Her eyes were closed once again, and her blushes were hotter than ever. Her fingernails had dug into the mattress to support herself, and the long lovely columns of her stockinged thighs bent inwards, jerked and shifted, sometimes yawning lewdly apart more than at the outset, sometimes tightening as Bruce Melton slyly continued the frigging of her now fully awakened and feverishly attuned love-center.
He could feel with his left hand the burgeoning of her nipplebud, its darkening hardness against his repeated touches. And the globe itself, heaving and shuddering against his palming caress, his gently squeezing fingers, told him that his beautiful mature victim-partner no longer found the touch of the male abhorrent to her tingling naked flesh.
Joey Elverson had begun to gasp and groan, to squirm about, as Christine Bernard's warm moist mouth dutifully sucked.
"Use your tongue too, Teach!" Henry Ferguson counseled as he aimed the camera from the side to take in Christine's beautiful face in profile and then pass to the obscenely thrilling cohesion between young Joey Elverson's rampant sex organ and that adorable, pursed and palpitating rosy female mouth.
But the constant tickling of her vulva now became enervating to the naked bespectacled young woman. Her hips had begun to jerk about convulsively and involuntarily, and her bottom sometimes lowered almost to her heels, only to jerk upwards with a kind of sporadic suddeness, then weave from side to side. The cheeks of her behind, too, were in constant mobility: rippling surges of neural spasms raced along the succulent rounds from base to hipslopes, and the mysterious groove between those luscious globes of womanflesh yawned and then narrowed in the most thrilling maneuvers.
And then Bruce Melton touched the lodestone of her clitoris, rubbing it very delicately and slowly, then pushed it vigorously back into its hiding place, held his finger on that button for an endless moment, and the reelased it to spring forth, turgifying and darkening with the afflux of love-blood.
"Ohh-mmff-aaahhh-mmmfff-ohuuuu-aaahhhh!!!" Christine Bernard's eyes rolled, her nostrils contracted spasmodically, and her breasts heaved wildly, her back hollowing violently. Her stockinged toes twisted and dug at the mattress, threatening to tear through the beige nylons in her neural agitation.
The moment had come, as Henry Ferguson now signified by making a circle of his left thumb and forefinger while he continued to operate the movie camera with his other hand.
Bruce Melton drew back his left hand, planted it on the edge of Christine Bernard's left hip, and then arched himself till he could feel his sheathed weapon press its menacingly pointed tip right against the gaping moist petals of her twitching cleft.
His right forefinger continued now to tickle her clitoris, as with a sudden jab, he entered half his virility inside her quaking vaginal canal.
Her eyes rolled to the whites, she tried to twist her face away, but she still had Joey Elverson's penis clutched between her panting lips, and then suddenly the boy uttered a cry of ecstasy, cupped the sides of her flushed face with his hands, and tilted back his head as he gave up all his essence into her panting mouth. She hadn't been prepared for this, and she gagged and choked! but at this moment, Bruce Melton thrust home to the very testicles and then reached with his left hand for her panting left breast to squeeze and fondle it as he continued to linger deep within her quaking burrow.
Henry Ferguson made a sign, and Joey Elverson now fumbled in his jeans' pocket for a handkerchief and mopped Christine's stickied mouth and nostrils. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she kept her eyes tightly shut. Even her dainty earlobes were red with shame.
But now she no longer had time for shame, only for sensation. His right forefinger pressing and rubbing her turgifying love-button, Bruce Melton began to thrust in and out with deep pronging strokes, and her body vibrated and jerked and quaked to each of them. Her hips jostled against his belly, squirming and weaving, trying sometimes to lower to her heels, but his fleshy harpoon maintained her in position.
And even as Joey finished cleansing her mouth from this her first swallowing communion with male life-juice, she suddenly tilted back her head and uttered a wild cry, wordless, inchoate.
Then she collapsed, Bruce Melton atop her, as with the last rampant charge he drove himself to the hilt and felt himself explode within her. Her fingers clawed at the mattress, her face twisted from side to side, and then she sprawled inert, panting and whimpering. Again, nature had taken over intellect in the quivering naked flesh of Christine Bernard!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
They had let Christine Bernard go to the bathroom and wash up after her final bout with Bruce and Joey, and then sleep under one of the blankets on the mattress which had been her bed of sexual initiation. Henry Ferguson had instructed Joey to scout the neighborhood the next morning to find a place where they could buy some food to take out, so that they could have breakfast and probably lunch. The drive-in, of course, was always available for hamburgers as a last resort.
Their lovely captive, who had removed her harlequin glasses but retained the garterbelt and hose, slept fitfully through the night. First turning onto her right side with her face to the wall and away from the five youths who had had carnal knowledge of her voluptuous pink-and-white sheened body, she had eventually moved over onto her back, then onto her left side. At times, whimpering gasps and little moans and hardly intelligible words escaped her soft lips, for she was dreaming. And what she was dreaming was the phantasmagoria-story of that unbelievable theme which had begun this incredible psycho of transformation from shrinking demi-vierge to warmly responsive naked female who couldn't suppress the urgencies of her vibrant young body when attuned by these virile young males.
She dreamed again that she was enthroned and alone in her castle, when the flaming torches were suddenly extinguished and the door swung open and the masked knight entered with drawn sword. Once again she seemed to feel herself pulled down from the throne and hoisted over his shoulder, borne out to his waiting white stallion and then delivered into the hands of the grim though sensually beautiful Amazonian wardresses of his own castle on that far distant hill.
And then the realism of this dream-fantasy in which she found herself on tiptoes, shackled and in the thick blackness of night and the dungeon awaiting the will of her unknown captor, took hold of her innate being.
"Oh, please," she murmured faintly as in her dreams she heard the dungeon door creak open. And her body shivered and flinched as she thought of the silken whip he would be carrying as he entered for this seance with her helpless nakedness.
But its first touch was strangely benign, even delightful, on her naked skin. She could feel it moving about her, gliding over her breasts and then her belly, leaping to the tender inner columns of her quivering thighs. And then a sudden stinging pain in both her thighs made her blink her eyelids and open her eyes to wakefulness-and to see Henry Ferguson smilingly mounted atop her, his hands stroking her abdomen and tender groin but not yet touching the tender aperture of her exquisite quim.
"Ohh-Henry-I thought-I was dreaming-ohh my goodness-"
"I woke you up by snapping the tabs of your garterbelt, Chrissy," he muttered softly, "Joey is out getting your breakfast, and the other guys have gone for a walk because it's kind of stuffy in this basement. So we'te all alone, Teach. Now what were you dreaming?"
Now she could feel his sheathed penis at the entryway to her Venus, and she uttered a squeal and squirmed nervously, blushing to her lovely throat.
"Come on, tell me, or I'll take you over my lap and paddle ass till you do, Teach," he huskily hinted. His fingers moved under her buttocks, caressing them gently, and the touch, now far from revolting her, made her quiver with a strange wakening urgency that tightened all her subtle feminine nerves along that complex network of thighs and groin and love-temple and belly and bosom, all the exquisitely united erogenous zones which can be roused in a passionate female only by a knowing and patient male.
"Please don't," she breathed, turning her face to the wall and half-pushing at him with her soft little hands.
"Please don't what? Paddle ass or fuck you, Chrissy?"
"Don't-don't sp--spank me, please don't-please be gentle with me-oh, I never knew such a boy-haven't you done enough to me?"
"Careful now, Chrissy, you're on dangerous territory when you start talking like you used to-"
"The way you used to," she automatically corrected, then exhaled a deep breath and again looked away, dropping her hands and pressing her fingertips hard against the mattress.
"That's my Teach, all right," he grinned wolfishly. "All right, I take it you don't want to start a brand-new Sunday with a spanking, so I'll just go ahead and fuck you, Chrissy. Now put your sweet legs up, knees way up in the air, and spread them as far apart as you can get them. I'm going to do it nice and slow and easy, and you'll be amazed how much you'll like it now that you haven't got a cherry to bother with anymore. Don't worry, I've taken care of things, there won't be any consequences."
"My goodness-where in the world-how did you ever learn these things-you're only seventeen-"
"I've got a pretty high I.Q., Teach, if you'd bother to look up the records in Dean Munson's office. And I've got an awfully smart uncle who has had lots of girls. I was a perfect drip when I started high school, that's why I'm still pretty young to be in junior college. But when I started getting advice from Uncle Dan, he showed me that I could still crack my books and crack a girl's crack, if you know what I mean."
"You're just awful to talk that way!" she gasped, scarlet-faced.
"Then let's not talk at all, let's just fuck, Teach," he chuckled softly as he leaned forward and slithered his tongue around her earlobe and into the dainty little hole of her left ear.
Christine Bernard squealed and squirmed, put up her hands to repel him, but agilely he pressed the tip of his condom-sheathed penis between the twitching and already moistened lips of her exquisite vulva and settled himself over her. And the miracle was that without being bidden a second time, Christine Bernard's stockinged knees rose up and spread well beyond each side of him, giving him delicious and total entry to her love-channel.
"Please, please promise me-you-you and those others won't talk about this at school, please, that's all I ask," she whispered as she kept her case still turned to the wall, but now her fingertips had pressed agitatedly against his shoulders as she felt him sink slowly and completely into her till he was grinding belly to belly and his hands were squeezing her panting round bare breasts.
"You still going to call the cops when you get out of here, Chrissy " he whispered into her ear as he leaned still more forward over her shivering, quivering naked body.
"N-no-but oh, for God's sake, I want you to promise that you won't show those awful movies and snapshots of me around, not to anybody-please, Henry, can you talk the b-boys out of keeping them and not making copies, please?"
"I might. Depends on how nice you are to me right now. Nobody's around and we've got a good five or ten minutes, so just shut up and let's see how much you've learned since last night, Teach," he chuckled again and once more sent his tongue darting into her dainty earhole.
Christine Bernard squealed and squirmed again, and he could feel her convulsively digging fingernails into his bare back. He was naked except for socks, and he could already feel the contractions of her, vaginal walls responding to the imbedded, immobilized structure of his ferocious turgid spear.
"Does it hurt anymore?"
"N-no-not too much-it still is awfully sensitive-please t-take it easy with me-" she whispered, and her face was still averted from his. It was furiously scarlet, also, for to have to discuss these matters while being weighted down by a naked boy whose penis was hiked inside her twitching vaginal sheath while she accepted him as a kind of Price Charming who had awakened her from her fitful sleep to take her now in this lewd costume of garterbelt and hose was supremely embarrassing and without precedent in her lexicon.
"Then suppose you give me a nice sweet kiss to show we're friends, Teach," he urged.
His hands slipped down to glide under her buttocks and to grip and squeeze them, kneading the resilient summits, moving down to the succulent satiny base, feeling her shivering and weaving gurations against his libidinous touches which signified such complete possession of her naked body.
She still didn't open her eyes, but obediently turned her face and proffered her mouth. His mouth came down on hers, and again he felt the tightening of her fingers digging into his bare shoulders. And then he began the age-old rhythm of love-friction, of penis to attuned and now willing vaginal cleft.
As he drew back to the very brink of her love temple, Christine Bernard's body jerked and twitched, for now she could no longer control the responses of her treacherous and totally wakened womanflesh. And that was why she kept her eyes so tightly shut that she might not look upon her own downfall from that vaunted pedestal of attainability. She was no longer the haughty teacher who could contemptuously wither an impertinent pupil with a single look. She had become a palpitating, naked harlot who could be wakened by any male wise enough to know the foreplay and the byplay by which her autocratic veneer could be stripped from her like her own clothes to render her at last a woman whose flesh was honest even if her will and mind weren't.
His thrusts became shorter and quicker now, as he felt her tremoring, her hips weaving erotically; and then, to vary the act, as well as the sensations, he halted himself and ground his teeth to hold back the jut of life-fluid. Christine was perspiring, her knees jerked to and fro on either side of him, and he could feel her lovely warm satiny bottom-cheeks contract and squirm against his digging fingers.
Now, keeping his left forefinger aimed at the sinuous shadowy groove between her bottomglobes, he directed his right forefinger to the rims of her engorged quim, tickling the outer petals, while she gasped and writhed. His forefinger moved above his penis now to touch her clitoris, and her body arched like a bow. At that exact moment, his other forefinger found her anal rosette and just delicately prodded inside the clenching, spasming lips.
"Oh, please-oohh-H-Henry-it's just shameful to do that to me-oooh-you're making me feel so-oh, Henry-aahhh-oh, Henry-oh, I can't stand it-oh, please-do something-aaah!" she wailed. She raked at his shoulders with her fingernails now, her face twisting from side to side, then tilting back with her eyes bulging and fixing on the ceiling overhead. He began to thrust hard and fast now again, edging his forefinger deep into her rectal passage, feeling her bottomcheeks clench to rep. 1 and yet paradoxically yawning to invite even deeper pillaging of that second temple of carnal delight.
Working both her clitoris and his other forefinger as he did his delving penis, Henry Ferguson once again drew Christine Bernard into feverish, uninhibited and uncontrollable upheaval, till her piercing cry announced a further downfall from the prudish grace of chastity.
"Oh-what must you think of me-I'm so ashamed of myself-I know I'm going to have to resign my job tomorrow H-Henry," she confessed in a trembling whisper when at last she had regained consciousness after that sweet black Lethe which is the momentary oblivion that comes with supreme orgasm.
"I don't think so. But I'd take my Uncle Dan's advice if I were you, Chrissy."
"Bur I've never even met your uncle."
"You will, baby, you will indeed. And now to answer your other question, no, I'll see to it that those movies and those Polaroids don't get into circulation. I think I can talk the guys into letting me have them all-if it wasn't for me, they wouldn't have had their fun. But there's something else."
"Wh-what-what else do I have to do?" she gasped, again blushing violently and keeping her face hidden from him. But it was perhaps significant that her arms still were hooked round his neck and that her thighs, in that last moment of frantic cohesion, had locked tightly over his thighs and buttocks and had still not receded as she now clung to him, his limpened organ still deep within her still quaking womb.
"You remember what I did to you after the spanking and the blow job, Teach?"
"Oh-y-oh, yes, oh, my G-God, I won't ever forget that-it hurt-it was so awful-why-it made me feel like an animal-oh, please-it was just like when your finger-oh, Henry-what have you made of me?"
"A sweet piece of cunt, that's what, Teach. Only that's between us. But that's what I was getting at-your cute little brownie. You didn't mind just now when I put my finger in there when I was fucking you, did you? Come on now, don't turn your face away and don't blush and don't keep quiet, or I'll really spank ass till it's raw!" he playfully threatened, squeezing her buttocks to emphasize the menace.
"N-no," she confessed in a tiny whisper that only he could hear.
He grinned. "I thought not. Well, Chrissy, if you want to earn getting back those movies and getting our promise that nobody's ever going to mention what happened this weekend, then you've gotta let me do it to you without being tied down, in front of the other guys. And I'm afraid you're gonna have to give them one last banging, because they're hot for you, Teach. Is it a deal?"
"I don't-I don't know how I can help myself with five of you against me. I'm just begging you please not to hurt me-please be nice-and that you will keep your word about the pictures-please!" he heard her whisper in a breaking, trembling little-girl voice.
It was five o'clock on that Sunday afternoon when Christine Bernard was finally allowed to go to the bathroom for the last time and then to put back on her panties and bra, her slip and the blue rayon dress which she had worn to keep her mysterious rendezvous. Her eyes were warm and humid, and the selfish curl of her mouth had given way to a shy, tremulous smile. She couldn't help blushing, though, as she shook hands with all five of her ravishers and abductors, Henry Ferguson last of all. And she blushed most of all when their fingers lingered together and he whispered into her ear, "You'll meet Uncle Dan sooner than you think, Teach. And the guys have agreed that I can turn all the films and snapshots over to him."
"Oh, my goodnes gracious-but that's just awful-he-"
"Don't worry, it'll all work out. You were a terrific piece, Teach. See you tomorrow afternoon in class. And when you look at us, you won't even recall that we gave you a hard time-and I do mean hard. There's your cab, I think-yeah. Well, don't be late to class tomorrow, Teach baby!"
Her cheeks burning, she opened the door of the basement through which she had been brought as a captive for violation and degradation, and walked out into the open air. It was sunny and warm, foretelling that a bright new day would perhaps-
She got into the cab and in a low husky voice, without looking at the driver, gave her address. The driver shook his head; it was a long haul and an expensive one. Seeing his hesitation, she stammered, "Don't worry, I've got money, and I live at that apartment. Please, I'm in a hurry to go home."
As he turned off onto the freeway, Christine Bernard leaned back and closed her eyes, trembling violently in aftermath of all that had taken place since her being wakened this Sunday morning as she had never dreamed anyone would waken her, perhaps not even as a bride. For Henry Ferguson had induced her to accept the amorous wooing of first Ben and then Bruce and then Mack and finally young Joey. And Joey, trembling with ecstasy and wonder, mounting between her widened thighs, had acquitted himself like i. real man deeply and satisfyingly within her love-canal.
But as a finale, Christine Bernard had willingly bent over the table without being held down, had reached back her own soft hands and pulled apart the quivering globes of her voluptuous naked bottom. A double blanket had been put just under her lower abdomen to arch up her buttocks and thus elevate her dainty anal rosette at the ideal angle for amorous penetration.
It had been very different this time! She gasped and blushed again as she thought of it, her body rocking to the movement of the cab swiftly speeding down the freeway. Henry had sent Joey to a drugstore not far away for some cold cream, and he had first aointed the lips of her anus and then well inside with the cool lubricant. Then he had greased his own organ, and then very gently begun to insert it while his right forefinger tickled her clitoris and his left the rims of her vulva and the crinkly outer labia of her sex. She had grabbed the front ends of the table and closed her eyes tightly, arching herself, her leg muscles rippling violently. And to her intense surprise, she had begun to gasp and moan, thinking that after all the sex she had had to yield to she would be exhausted by then, yet finding an incredible new vibrancy within her entire being,-thanks to his multiple manipulations of her tenderest nooks.
And when at last she had felt the splash of his hot semen deep into her bowels, she had bucked and twisted and writhed over the table, sobbing out broken phrases, even using some of their own vulgar words like "F-fuck me-oh, please do it, fuck me h-hard, Henry!"
What would she do now? How could she possibly go back to class tomorrow? She would have to leave town, find another job. She couldn't trust herself to look into their eyes and to know what they knew about her and what she had learned about herself!
"I guess this is it, lady," the bearded cab driver turned back to Christine Bernard, bringing her sharply out of her strange, almost dazed reverie.
"Oh-yes-this is fine, driver. Th-thank you. Here you are." She opened her purse and paid him, tipping him generously. Gallantly, somewhat to her surprise, he got out of the cab and opened the door for her. She stammered another faint thanks and then moved quickly towards the vestibule door of her apartment building.
As she opened the door, the inner lobby door opened and she recognized the tall black-haired man who was her first floor neighbor.
"Miss Bernard? I saw you come in just now, and I thought maybe you'd like a drink."
"Oh no-th-thank you-I-I've been away for the weekend-and-I'm tired."
"I didn't mean to force myself on you, Miss Bernard. But you do happen to be my nephew's English Literature teacher, and he's talked so much about you-"
Christine Bernard stared at him, her mouth agape. Then a violent blush began to spread on her exquisite face, and her eyes to blink and mist and widen behind the provocative harlequin glasses. "You-you-you're-D-oh no!"
"That's right, Christine," he was smiling almost paternally at her as he took her elbow and held the inner lobby door open for her. "Henry Ferguson is my nephew. Come in, you need a drink, a good stiff one."
"But-oh, my God-then you-"
As she entered his living room, she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at an electric typewriter in prominence on a large secretary writing desk at the wall to her left. Then her eyes slowly turned to fix his virile, sardonic face, and to see his steely gray-blue eyes regarding her with a twinkle of amusement, his thin sensuous lips curved in a sardonic smile. "It was you-that theme-"
"That's right, Chrissy," he murmured, leading her over to a wide leather padded sofa and gently pushing her down. "I'll get you that drink."
She was dazed, she was in a dream, her legs were too weak to move, and so all she could do was sit there and wait while he came back with two glasses filled with bourbon and ginger ale, handed one to her, then sat down beside her.
"It was you-you wrote the theme--you-you had them do all this-" she said in a voice that wasn't her own, dreamy and contemplative as if it were this other person all the time, the one that responded to their voracious young desires in that windowless basement for what had been an eternity and a new life.
"Yes, that's true. I happen to be a novelist, Chrissy. Also, I teach English Literature too. I've been taking a sabbatical for about a year doing a novel which I've just finished. But I've got a job this fall teaching at a junior college in Denver, at a very good salary. And as a matter-of-fact I'll need an assistant. What would you think of going there with me?"
Again her jaw dropped, and she stared at him as if she could not believe her ears.
"As my wife, of course, after a proper courtship and engagement period," he chuckled. His left arm went round her waist, he took her glass from her and set it down on the coffee table beside them. Then, cupping her face, he kissed her very gently on the lips.
Christine moaned, but there was a fluttering in her thighs and in her sex and a hardening of her nipples even as she could not, would not, dare not believe what was happening.
"Henry will bring the movies and the Polaroids later tonight. He'll be going with me to Denver, and of course will be in my class. Or," his eyes were whimsical again, "in yours, if you like, Chrissy."
"Then it was you-who told him all those things to do-and he told all those boys-and that's why-oh, my God-" she gasped faintly, and then hid her blushing face against his chest.
She felt his other hand creep under her skirt and slip, caressingly stroking her trembling thighs. And she felt the lips of her vulva twitch and moisten, treacherously betraying her once again. Always again now, for Christine Bernard had come out of the crucible of this lottery of lust into a knowledge of what she needed and must have to be the woman she had been destined to be from the very beginning.
