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Subject: RP: {PARKER} Stacy's Senior Year [6/10]
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_/ _/
_/ I am *not* the author. _/
_/ The author is PARKER <an210088@anon.penet.fi> _/
_/ _/
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART SIX)
By Parker
WARNING: This story contains blackmail, non-consensual sex,
humiliation, D&S and all that sort of good stuff (albeit not
in every instalment). If you are offended by this sort of
thing, it would be better to stop reading now. You have been
warned.
- This is the sixth part of a ten-part series. For full
effect, read the other parts first.
Copyright 1993. Feel free to distribute this story as
you wish, but please leave it unchanged (particularly
the attribution; I want all the credit/blame). I would
also ask that you exercise some discretion in where you
send it; not all BBSs or readers should be exposed to
this sort of material (who knows what might happen?).
=================================================================
"Cool."
Neil leaned forward and watched intently as Stacy,
completely naked, was simultaneously fucked by two men: one from
behind as she knelt "doggie style" on all fours with her legs
slightly spread, and one from the front. At first, her face had
been hidden from the camera by her blonde hair, which fell in
waves over her right shoulder, but Sharon had slowly circled the
action and, after a brief shot of the back of some guy's sweaty
ass moving back and forth, began to film from the other side,
where Stacy's features could be seen clearly. Her left hand
clutched the base of the guy's cock as she bobbed her
cum-splattered face up and down. The charm bracelet, festooned
with shiny, silver "F"s, glittered merrily in the light. There
was a brief break in this movement as she pulled her mouth free
and teased the head of the cock with her tongue, but then her
lips re-encircled the penis, and her head resumed the up-down
movement. Her loud moans and grunts could be easily heard above
the rhythmic slurping sounds; she was clearly enjoying herself.
The camera moved on; it continued panning, sliding steadily
down Stacy's glistening, sweaty body and focusing on her ass as
it wiggled about on the impaling cock like a fish caught on a
hook. Just as the settled on this shot, the guy fucking her from
behind stiffened and came. A few seconds later, he pulled out,
leaving a thin trail of white sperm dribbling down Stacy's leg.
The camera pulled back and then zoomed in on her ass and pussy -
both glistening and wet with cum - and held the shot as another
fellow moved into position and inserted his cock, this time into
her ass rather than the pussy. The soundtrack clearly recorded a
squeal of pleasure from the impaled teenager, as Stacy accepted
the cock and began grinding her ass back and forth on it.
"Jeez, this is great stuff."
Neil was more than a little impressed. He hadn't even known
that anything of this nature was going on. Indeed, he had felt a
momentary twinge of anger when Gary had told him what Sharon had
arranged for Stacy - he had felt a bit left out lately, as Gary
and Sharon more and more seemed to be taking charge with Stacy -
but he couldn't remain angry. He was not so stupid that he failed
to realize that this whole arrangement was only possible because
Gary had seen the possibilities that day in English class. If it
had been left to Neil, he would probably have blurted out his
accusations in front of the class, and that would have been the
end of it. Instead, they now had a hold on Stacy that let them
force her to do anything! How could he complain about Gary being
in charge?
On screen, Stacy was taking advantage of the fact that her
mouth was temporarily empty of cock, and was busily licking
strands of sperm from her fingers. Neil turned to Gary and Sharon
who were sitting together on the couch behind him.
"She's really into it," he commented enthusiastically. "Did
you use the drugs?"
"Yeah," Sharon answered. "A double dose this time. As you
can see, it worked like a charm."
The sound of Stacy's screams from the TV indicated an
impending orgasm.
"She was really hot."
The teenagers fell silent and watched as Stacy experienced a
violent orgasm, her fourth since the beginning of the tape.
"We made four hundred bucks," Sharon continued after Stacy's
screams had died away. "And the football team wants her back
again next weekend."
"Are you gonna make her go?" Neil turned away from the couch
as he asked the question, his eyes focusing on the screen where
Stacy moaned and fondled her small breasts.
Behind him, Sharon looked at Gary, leaving the decision to
him.
"I don't think so," he answered. "At least not right away.
We don't want to burn her out. Let's leave it for something
special. We are selling them this tape though; they're paying
another hundred bucks for it."
"That's five hundred bucks." Neil tore his attention away
from the screen. "A lot of money." He looked up at Gary.
"Don't worry," his friend answered, smiling his strange
smile. "You'll get a share. Sharon gave forty dollars to Stacy,
so that leaves $460 to split three ways."
Neil raised his eyebrows. "Forty dollars to Stacy?"
"Well," Sharon laughed, "she deserved something. She did all
the work."
The three friends laughed and went back to watching the
video. It was coming to the end now, and Stacy was being
simultaneously fucked by three guys, one in the ass, one in her
cunt and one in her mouth. She moaned and wriggled as her body
was filled with cock from three different angles. Finally, the
three cocks came, each spurting sperm into its particular orifice
as Stacy orgasmed twice more. The video faded to black as Stacy,
wet and crusty with cum, curled up on the damp, sticky mattress,
still moaning and sucking the sperm from her fingers.
"That was great!" Neil leaned forward and shut of the
television. "Just like being there."
"Well, I hope the guys on the football team are happy with
it. They're paying for it." Sharon stopped the video and pushed
the rewind button on the remote. The tape began to whirl
backwards in the video machine.
Neil got to his feet and began to pace.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "we could make a lot more
money out of this if we wanted. I bet there are people who would
pay big bucks for this tape; I mean besides the guys from the
college."
"Not this tape," Gary answered. "It's just for the guys at
BCN. The last thing we need is the bloody college football team
coming after us. But I have given that some thought."
Sharon looked over at him, surprised. This was the first
that she had heard of it.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," he told her, "why not make a little money selling
some pictures?"
"Like the video?" Neil asked.
"No. I don't think that we can put together a professional
enough product for that. This tape was OK as a souvenir for the
guys at the college, but we have no way of editing it or anything
else. I mean still pictures." He looked over at Sharon. "You're
uncle let you use his studio last year, right?"
Sharon nodded her agreement, beginning to understand what he
was getting at. Her uncle did portrait photography, and had a
studio near the centre of town. Last year, he had allowed her to
use the studio and darkroom for her photography class project. He
had told her that she could use it any time she wanted.
"So, with the studio and darkroom..."
"We can take professional shots!" Neil completed the
sentence. "It's fuckin' perfect."
"But what about selling them?" Sharon was sceptical. There
was more to this than just taking the pictures.
"I've been communicating with some photographers over a
BBS," Gary told her.
Neil looked confused. "BBS?"
Gary ignored him. "I expect I can get some contacts through
them. Or at least some addresses. I'm sure there are lots of
magazines which would pay good money for pictures of someone like
Stacy."
"And what do we tell Stacy?" Sharon was still sceptical. "We
told her we'd keep this all a secret if she played along." Sharon
was more curious than concerned. Their promise to Stacy meant
nothing to her.
"No." Gary smiled."We told her that we wouldn't release the
tapes of her cheating on the English exam and fucking with Neil.
We said nothing about any pictures we might take in the future.
Besides, we won't be selling these pictures to mainstream
magazines. I doubt anyone in town will see them. Including Stacy.
Probably."
"Well... OK." Sharon was convinced. "I'll set it up with my
uncle for later this week."
"Fuckin A!" Neil was excited. "I can't wait."
*****
NUMBER FOURTEEN
Stacy's short skirt was once again bunched up around her
waist. Her sleek legs were spread wide, and wrapped around the
bulky form of Bob Pearson as he pistoned his cock brutally in and
out of her dry pussy. They were in one of the supply rooms at
Greenwood; Stacy's ass was propped up on a narrow shelf and her
back was against the wall as Barry fucked her. In vain, she tried
to re-discover some of the excitement of the previous weekend up
at BCN. Her responses that night had been more than a little
degrading, but at least she had been able to deal with the sex
without this pain; perhaps even get a little enjoyment out of it.
No matter how hard she tried, however, she was unable to
feel anything other than the intense pain of the ordeal, as
Barry's large cock sawed in and out of her raw pussy.
'Please,' she thought wearily as he panted and grunted his
lust, 'please come!'
Just let it be over.
*****
As instructed, Stacy showed up at the photography studio at
8:00 PM two nights later. The mid-December weather was unusually
cold, and she was wearing a heavy denim jacket over her jeans and
sweater. She was, however, carrying a duffel bag which contained
some clothing of a less practical nature. Sharon had ordered
Stacy to bring along various items of apparel, such as underwear,
stockings, short skirts and, in particular, a couple of swimsuits
from last year's swim team. Stacy had been apprehensive, but she
was now pretty much past the stage of arguing or pleading. It
never did any good. All that mattered was that she reach number
sixty-five before the end of the year. She had managed number
fifteen earlier that day (her pussy still ached); only fifty more
to go! At her wrist, the rapidly filling charm bracelet attested
to her "success".
The studio itself was basically a large, high-ceilinged
single room with a cloth backdrop against the rear wall. The
backdrop was a neutral white, designed to take on the hue of
whatever colored light was being directed at it. There was a long
metal bar on the ceiling which held a number of different lights
set there for this purpose. The floor in front of the backdrop
was covered by a dark mat. In front of this mat was another bank
of lights, not colored, and a camera. At the back of the room was
a wooden door with a red light hanging above it; a small sign
identified it as the darkroom.
"Stacy."
Gary walked up to her as she stood by the door, put his arm
over her shoulder, and directed her into the room. Stacy
shuddered slightly at his touch, but allowed herself to be led.
Sharon, standing behind the camera, looked over and smirked.
There was a belch from the back of the room; Stacy looked over
and saw Neil, sitting back against the wall with his feet propped
up on a small table and a beer in his hand. He grinned over at
her and raised the beer can in mock greeting. Behind her, the
door to the studio clicked shut.
Sharon made a small adjustment to the camera, and then
walked over to where Gary had begun emptying out the contents of
Stacy's duffel bag onto the floor.
"Let's see what we've got," she muttered, sorting through
the clothes. Stacy watched, numb and frightened, as Sharon and
Gary sorted through the various items of apparel, rejecting some
and laughing at others.
"Don't forget this stuff." Neil had left his seat and was
approaching with another bag, the contents of which he dumped
onto the floor beside Stacy's clothes. It contained a number of
leather and rubber outfits, including, Stacy noted queasily, the
outfit she had worn up at BCN last weekend. She swallowed,
fighting to keep her features impassive; she had resolved not to
let them see her cry again.
Finally, they were done. Gary looked up at her.
"You know what's going on?" He gestured towards the camera.
Stacy nodded reluctantly.
"Yes," she answered. It hadn't been difficult to figure out.
She had cried in her bedroom when Gary had ordered her to show up
at the photography studio with the clothing, but she wasn't going
to cry now. She wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.
Gary grinned. "Then let's get started." He turned to his
girlfriend. "Sharon?"
"Yeah, OK," Sharon nodded, "but let's give her a drink
first. It's going to be hot under those lights."
Stacy looked up. Huh?
Sharon picked up an open can of coke from a nearby table and
handed it to her. "Drink up," she instructed. "We don't want you
fainting on the set. We've got lots of stuff to get through
tonight."
Confused, Stacy did as ordered; she drank the coke and
handing the empty can back to the impatiently waiting Sharon.
The other girl nodded and took the bottle.
"OK," she announced, "I think we'll start with..."
Stacy spent the next few hours in front of the lights,
running through countless degrading poses in dozens of different
outfits. Humiliatingly, they started her out with some of her own
clothes which she had brought: mini-skirt, blouse and high heels.
"Look at the camera."
The colored lights placed her in front of a soft, yellow
backdrop. As instructed, Stacy looked at the camera.
"Lean forward... legs apart."
She bent down and spread her legs, causing the skirt to ride
up. Her blonde hair, combed out straight, hung down over her left
shoulder, framing her breasts for the camera. Behind the bank of
lights, her three tormentors were only shadowed silhouettes.
Stacy was reminded of her dreams of stripping in front of such
lights.
"Open the blouse... now cup your breasts and look sexy. Keep
looking up; we want to see your face."
Her hands trembled as they undid the buttons. She had known
it would come to this, but it was still so hard; particularly in
front of the camera. She cupped her small breasts in her hands,
involuntarily teasing her own nipples. They hardened immediately.
Would they notice?
"That's it. Nice nipples. Now, lick your lips..."
Stacy wetted her lips and did her best to look sexy and
inviting. Her nipples stayed hard.
"Bend over a bit more... let's see some more leg..."
Then they dressed her in one of her old swimsuits, now at
least one size too small:
"That's right... other way, now..."
Stacy stood, side on to the camera. They had soaked the suit
before dressing her in it, and it clung tenaciously to every
curve. Worse, the cold water caused her nipples to become hard
again, and it was plainly visible through the thin swimsuit.
"Shoulders back... good, that pushes out your tits... play
with the nipples, make them nice and hard... there you go..."
Stacy flushed red.
"OK... now run your hand through your hair... look like you
need a good fuck..."
Stacy did as ordered. She slid her fingers through her
blonde hair, shaking it out at the back as she did so. She was
beginning to feel a queer sort of arousal in the pit of her
stomach. She fought to hide it, but it was difficult to do while
trying to look sexy.
Then came the outfit she had worn for the party at BCN. It
quickly became apparent to Stacy that they had not cleaned it
since that night; it stank of dried sweat and sperm.
This time, Sharon put on some music, and had Stacy dance a
slow striptease. Neil called encouragement as Stacy slowly
divested herself of first the cum-encrusted shirt, and then the
tight leather skirt.
And, just like in her dream, she became more and more
aroused...
A short break to re-load the camera while Stacy stood,
panting slightly, in front of the lights. She was naked from the
previous stripping, save only for the leather, high-heeled boots.
Neil came over and played with her sweaty tits until it was time
for a new outfit.
Stacy fought hard not to respond...
Finally, it was over.
Stacy stood, drained and sweaty in the last outfit she had
modelled, a tight, pink rubber dress which left bare as much as
it concealed. It was cut low on her neckline, leaving her chest
bare down to the upper curve of her tits (at one point in the
session, she had been ordered to pop her tits out of the dress,
but they were re-covered now). The dress also left her arms
exposed up to the shoulder, and only covered her upper thighs
down to just below her crotch. Her legs were clearly displayed,
taut and sleek in the black pumps. Sharon had done her hair up
in a tight bun, giving her a severe, sexy look.
Neil slipped behind her, reached around and began playing
with her breasts through the thin rubber as Gary and Sharon
clicked off the lights and began storing the film. Involuntarily,
Stacy moaned, but didn't pull away. Her nipples hardened and a
trickle of sweat dribbled down between her breasts as they
strained against the latex. Neil began kissing her neck.
Gary looked over and smiled. Stacy's eyes were closed and
her mouth slightly parted as she leaned back to accept Neil's
attentions. Her body was clearly beginning to respond. This
seemed like a good time to bring up...
"Oh, Stacy." Stacy opened up her eyes and stiffened,
remembering where she was.
"I heard that Barry Packard asked you out last a little
while ago and you refused. Is that true?"
Stacy bit her lip apprehensively, but nodded. She recognized
the tone of voice Gary was using; something bad was going to
happen. Behind her, Neil reached down with one hand and began
massaging her pussy through the latex dress. The other hand
continued to fondle her tits. Subconsciously, she began to squirm
back against him.
"Well," Gary continued, "from now on, there'll no more of
that. If one of your 'lovers' wants a re-match, you agree to it."
"What?!" Stacy tried to move forward, but Neil held her
tight. "What are you talking about?" Neil popped one of her
breasts out from the dress and began teasing the nipple. Stacy
tried to ignore it.
"That wasn't a rule."
"It's a new rule," Sharon told her, grinning. "From now on,
once a guy's fucked you, you can't say 'no' to him until you've
finished all sixty-five."
Stacy's features began to quiver. She had resolved not to
cry, but this was too much. A tear trickled down her cheek as she
considered the implications of what was being said.
"B-but... there'll be no end of it. I'll have to do it all
the time." Her mind, now cloudy with lust, struggled to find
objections.
"When am I supposed to study or do other things? There are
exams coming up!"
Sharon laughed outright at that. Stacy had just been told
that she had to agree to fuck almost any guy that asked, and she
was complaining about not being able to study for exams!
"Don't worry about the exams," Gary told her. "We'll get you
the test papers ahead of time. Hell, we'll even do it for free
this time." The three of them laughed as Stacy began to cry in
earnest.
"Besides," Gary continued, "it's not all bad news. We've
decided to let you earn some pocket money while you're doing it."
"What?"
"From now on, you charge five bucks for a repeat fuck."
Stacy looked at him in horror.
"The first one's free, but repeat service costs five bucks."
He looked over at Neil. "Except," he continued, "for Neil, of
course. He gets it for free."
If possible, Stacy's sobs became louder. No matter how bad
things became, they always managed to make them a little worse.
Or a lot worse!
Gary and Sharon continued packing up as Neil slipped his
hand under the short dress and began to play with her pussy
directly. Stacy shuddered and then relaxed back into his chest,
defeated. There was no use resisting it. She began to pant as
Neil pushed his middle finger into her now-moist cunt.
When Gary and Sharon finally left the room, she was sitting
on top of Neil's erection, riding it up and down, the pink dress
bunched up around her waist.
*******
Stacy was slumped forward on the desk. Her head was cradled
sideways in her arms, spilling blonde hair in waves out over the
wooden desktop. Outside the closed office door, the grade eight
students she was supposed to be supervising were yelling and
running about, her usually well-structured Recreation course
having dissolved into chaos in her absence.
She didn't care. She was too tired to care. She hadn't even
changed into her usual gym outfit for the class, instead just
stumbling around the gymnasium in her green tweed dress, barely
getting the class started before retreating to the office. She
just didn't care anymore.
Last night she had attended Ashley's Christmas party and, in
the course of the evening, had managed to have sex with four
different guys: two blowjobs and two fucks. Actually, it had been
five guys, but one of them had turned out not to be a student at
Greenwood, and Stacy no longer counted the non-students. That
brought her total up to twenty: twenty different guys, and twenty
shiny "F"s on her imprisoned wrist. Only forty-five more to go.
Only! Her pussy ached at the thought.
As was happening so often these days, Stacy found herself
fighting back the urge to cry. How had she fallen into this trap?
How had such a little thing as cheating on a math test led her
into the kind of life she was now leading? Looking back, she
could see how Gary - it must have been Gary; Neil wasn't anywhere
near smart or subtle enough to plan this sort of thing - had
slowly escalated the incidents of blackmail and humiliation until
all her options had disappeared. Even now, if it had just been
the original session at Neil's, she might be tempted to rebel -
perhaps even turn to the police - but Gary had since then taken
it even further. Now, there were the pictures taken at the
photography studio and the awful video-tape of that night at BCN,
where Sharon had turned her into a whore! Sharon had shown the
tape to her the day after the photo session. How could anyone
believe her story after seeing her enjoying herself so much? She
could barely believe it herself. What had happened to her? Sex
was usually so degrading and painful; why had it felt so good?
Still, whatever the reason, there was no way out; no one would
believe her now.
So, she took the path of least resistance, and did what they
wanted.
It had been three days since the session at the photography
studio, and she was unable to get it out of her mind. It was not
just the fact that the pictures had been taken. That was terrible
enough, and she was thoroughly frightened about what would be
done with the resulting photographs. Gary had told her that they
were just for "personal use" (whatever that meant), but how could
she trust him? It was not just the fact that she could no longer
refuse to have sex with the guys she had already fucked; that was
bad, but she thought she could control matters so that very few
of them invited her out again. As long as it was kept quiet, it
shouldn't be too much of a problem. It was not even the sex with
Neil; he had fucked her a number of times already, and it was
getting to be almost routine.
What frightened her about the session in the studio was the
way she had responded to the situation, and, later, to Neil. By
the time he had pushed up her dress and forced her to impale
herself upon his rigid cock, she had been so excited that she had
experienced an orgasm within seconds of penetration. In the
fucking that followed, she had cum twice more, moaning and
squirming like some kind of slut-bitch on Neil's cock.
As was the case with the session at BCN, she was not sure
how she felt about this. On one hand, she was being forced to do
horribly degrading things and it was as if her own body was
betraying her by allowing her to respond sexually. What kind of
girl - what kind of a slut - would enjoy the kind of obscene
activity which had occurred at BCN? On the other hand, it looked
very much like she had very little choice in the matter. She was
trapped, and would have to fuck countless guys in the next few
months. Given that this was going to happen anyway, wouldn't it
be better to get at least some enjoyment out of it? If nothing
else, she could do without the constant pain of her pussy being
rubbed raw as a result of her being dry at the wrong time.
What she needed was some way to control the excitement. Some
way to allow her to do what she had to do with a minimum of pain,
but which would allow her to control herself so that her
surrender would not be complete. Some way to...
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was after 3:15; class
was over. She patted down her green tweed dress and shook her
blonde hair, unconsciously adjusting her appearance. That must
be...
It was. The door swung open to reveal a grinning Tim,
followed closely by Dennis. Stacy groaned, but gestured for them
to enter the office for their weekly session.
There must be some better way to deal with this!
*******
Ashley Peters stood, giggling, in a cluster of friends in a
doorway near the water fountain. The girls were pulling a nasty
practical joke, and were waiting for the victim to arrive. Even
among this group, basically the most popular (ie. beautiful)
girls at Greenwood, Ashley stood out as something special. She
was taller than any of the other girls, but still well-rounded in
all of the important places, particularly her breasts. Indeed,
the only other girl at school that was in her league was Stacy
Richards, but while Stacy was small and perfectly proportioned,
Ashley was big-boned and extremely well endowed, particularly for
an eighteen year-old. Where Stacy had a finely chiselled face and
high cheek bones, Ashley's face was wide and generous, with
thick, pouty lips and wide brown eyes. Where Stacy had shoulder
length blonde hair, Ashley was a brunette, with a thick,
reddish-brown mane of hair that fell halfway down her back. In
short, Stacy's was a hard, athletic beauty, while Ashley was
softer and more luxurious: equally beautiful, but in an entirely
different manner.
The two girls were, of course, rivals, but only in a
relaxed, friendly way. There was simply no need for them to
compete, for boys or otherwise. The only real point of contention
was the title of Homecoming Queen, and Ashley had - more or less
- conceded it to Stacy the previous year. Stacy's school
activities, from cheerleading to the track and swim team to
supervising the grade eight "Rec" class, made her almost certain
to take the title instead of Ashley, whose list of school
activities was somewhat shorter (or, in truth, non-existent).
Life was too short, she figured. So, the two girls ruled over
their little clique in a co-operative fashion, acknowledging the
other's attributes without conceding superiority.
Ashley noticed Stacy coming out of a doorway at the other
end of the hall, followed by a couple of grade eight jerks. She
looked a little dishevelled, but Ashley put it down to the
activity of the "Rec" class.
"Stacy," Ashley called after her, eager to have her share in
the joke, but Stacy didn't seem to hear, and moved down the hall
away from the group. The two boys followed close behind. Ashley
narrowed her eyes as she watched her friend turn a corner and
disappear from view. Stacy had been acting a little strange
lately. She wondered if...
"She's coming!"
Stephanie, who had been watching around the corner,
whispered the warning and stepped back, out of sight. Ashley
dropped Stacy from her mind and joined the group as they watched
expectantly.
They didn't have long to wait. Karen Williamson walked,
unsuspecting, around the corner and up to her locker. The heavy,
dark-haired girl didn't notice Ashley's group as they watched
from the doorway. The trap was sprung! As she pulled the locker
door open, hundreds of sheets of paper slid out and onto the
floor in front of, and around, the locker. Each sheet had been
carefully torn from various Playboy and other,similar, magazines,
depicting beautiful women in some stage of undress. Karen
watched, stunned, as more and more paper fell out of her locker.
Ashley and her group could contain themselves no longer, and
finally broke out into raucous laughter as more and more people
in the hallway stopped and stared. As well as putting the loose
sheets in the locker, they had pasted up a number of pictures on
the door and walls of Karen's locker. The people in the hallway
began to laugh as Karen turned red, and then began to cry with
embarrassment.
Satisfied with the damage, Ashley led her group away from
the scene of their victory as more and more people joined the
crowd of students laughing at and taunting their unfortunate
victim as she crawled around on her hands and knees trying to
recover the pictures.
If they had stayed a little longer, they might have noticed
Sharon Stevens, who had watched the whole incident develop, walk
up to the humiliated Karen and start talking to her in a hushed
voice.
Karen quickly stopped crying and began to listen intently.
END PART SIX
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