("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: sari7.txt (m-teen/pre-f, ped, nc) Authors name: Lor Oldmann (jamwad@hotmail.com) Story title : Sari and the Expedition -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Sari and the Expedition (m-teen/pre-f, ped, nc) by Lor Oldmann (jamwad@hotmail.com) *** The second phase of the continuing Sari Saga written, not in the autobiographical style of the previous stories, but in third person reported form. It tells of the English eleven year old girl's experiences with American teen-age boys on an adventure project organised by the United Nations *** The Sari Saga: Second Phase Sari and the Expedition Everyone knew it was a mistake; right from the very start it was a crazy idea, a clerical error, perhaps, or a hiccup on the computer: that's always a good excuse. However it happened, eleven year old Sari Kinnis from the preparatory department of Elmshurst, one of the top half- dozen educational establishments of upper class England had become listed, albeit through a series of unforeseeable circumstances, with seven teenaged boys mainly from the lowest castes of New York, Dallas, Detroit and Chicago. The only qualification specifically stated in the prospectus of the United Nations sponsored project was that all the members of any one team spoke approximately the same language. That was correct at least; the similarity in language was approximate. All the other teams involved in the project were composed of sixteen boys, or entirely of girls, or eight of both sexes from a similar socio-economic background. The mixed sex teams, thirty of them, all except Sari's, were supervised by an adequately qualified female and a healthy, amply equipped male and were observed by an approved United Nations evaluator. Half of Sari's team of sixteen, for one reason or another, had dropped out: seven girls between the ages of twelve and nineteen, and one sickly boy of thirteen from Denver whose parents had seconds thoughts about the fitness of their precious son to survive such a hazardous exploit. 'Half a team is better than none' people joked, and rather than have anyone suffer the trauma of disappointment, everyone pretended everything was fine - despite the obvious flaw! Everything about the set-up was incongruent from the start. As suggested by the prospectus, the girl opted to wear her standard school uniform for the exercise. It comprised a grey skirt, eight centimetres shorter than that of the senior school, almost as short as a cheerleader's at an American ball game, a white cotton blouse with four buttons and a tiny pocket on the breast for a lace-edged handkerchief, a navy blue jacket with gold trim, white stockings that came up to just below the knee and a pair of black leather shoes that cost Cheri Kinnis more than the combined clothing of all the boys in her daughter's team. Under the skirt she wore an extremely brief pair of panties with the school crest printed on the front over her mons pubis and the motto 'in vita veritas' - there were several spare pairs in her luggage. She did not wear a brassiere; there was little to support. The boys wore what clothes were available to them when big brothers and neighbours got together to rig them out for the expedition. The rules clearly stated that all participants must wear clothing that would be acceptable in what would be considered an ordinary dry, warm day's activity for them. This was the whole point of the exercise: they were to exist for a week under naturally controlled conditions with the rudimentary essentials of life; specialised clothing and equipment would be provided, under penalty, if and where it was found to be absolutely necessary. Everything about the initiative was wrong and everyone knew it, but no-one was prepared to admit that a mistake had been made and fewer people were prepared to state the obvious for reasons of political correctness. "After all," everyone said, "Davis Carter will be with them, and Davis Carter is an experienced teacher and a dependable youth leader." Davis Carter was also the recognised United Nations project assessor. But Davis Carter was also human. Massie Belmont, the United States co-ordinator for the expedition, shrugged the whole affair off, because 'it is too late to do anything about it now'. He said, "You'll see, everything will work out for the best in the end. They'll probably win the goddam trophy!" No-one believed a word of it. But all hoped that the rich rewards of a visit to Disneyland and a tour of the great sights of the United States, including the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone Park, and a lawn party at the White House would keep the contestants in order and well away from doing anything wildly rash or irresponsible. In other words, they considered the perks provided by an opulent society adequate insurance for Sari's maidenhood. The introductory lecture over, Davis Carter eyed the girl as she climbed into the back of the transit miniature bus that was to take them into the wilderness. He was quite convinced she would be raped long before she returned to her Middleton home in England. Five of the boys eyed her as her skirt rode up to her backside when she climbed into the transit van; they knew for a fact that she would be raped, probably on the first night, if not sooner, if they had anything to do with it. Sari glanced back. She was not terribly sure what rape really was in fine detail, but the looks on the faces of the people still on the launching pad gave her a hunch that there was a very strong possibility she would learn before she was much older. She was aware of a strange stirring deep down inside her and of a peculiar warmth; the feelings she had almost perpetually when she was with Lor Oldmann. She quite liked the sensations - at least when it was Lor who caused them; she quite enjoyed it when Hector Lansbright, the tennis coach, slipped a hand up her dress to rub where only Lor had been before him. She was not quite sure that she was all that enamoured by the same sensation when it had been generated by the Simon Pratt affair. She reserved judgement on the present situation. "I'm gonna shaft the butt off that!" declared Yett Grossland, the sixteen year old from the Bronx. He wiped the saliva from his drooling mouth. "Yeah! First chance I'm gonna screw that!" "You're gonna take your place in the line, man!" exclaimed nineteen year old Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis, a black boy from the worst slums of Harlem. He ran a tongue over his lips. "We'll toss for it." Fifteen-year-old Shalem Hoser laughed. "Jerk yourselves dead," snarled Louis. "That little cherry is mine. You can do what you want with her after I have it." Sari Kinnis was a spectacularly pretty little girl with sensuous, slightly Polynesian features, a mouth that was shaped for French kissing, outstandingly attractive eyes and fabulously tapering legs that ended with delft-like ankles. Her breasts were only beginning to show the first definite designs on development, and her hips and buttocks had already lost the puppy-fat-shapelessness of the preteen schoolgirl. Since her mild bout of chorea, she had acquired a slight tic, a trifling shifting of her shoulders when she was excited, or frightened or, especially when she was with Lor, when she was sexually aroused. Davis Carter knew he would have trouble. The bus had only a seat for the driver in front; the remaining space was for luggage and equipment. The accommodation inside the rear of the vehicle comprised cushioned seats bolted directly to the floor without legs. Consequently, Sari Kinnis, like all the others, had to sit with her knees up above her backside. Carter had placed her in the space nearest and opposite him so the he could get a decent view through one of the side mirrors. An even better view was provided for the four boys who sat behind the driver and for the boy sitting immediately next to her. The remaining two boys were not interested in girls, and were determined to keep themselves to themselves throughout the exercise. The other boys had already labelled them Tom and Jerry. Sari was aware of the centre of interest, indeed she rather enjoyed being the focus of attraction. At first she tried to keep her knees together and her skirt wrapped as tightly as possible around her thighs. But in a short time, the effort was too much; she relaxed her position, let the skirt hang loose and ultimately widened the gap between her thighs. There were groans of appreciation. Davis Carter looked in his mirror to see the cause of the noise, and felt a definite enlivening of his animal senses. There was promise, he decided, in those thighs and that smoothly rounded butt! They travelled in comparative silence for the first hundred and fifty miles, except for Tom and Jerry who hit it off instantly and chattered quietly and constantly and held hands. The first stop was to let the boys relieve themselves by the wayside. Sari did not need to respond to any such call of nature, so they drove for another two hours. Conversation was still subdued. They had been introduced at the outset, but none of the boys, with the exception of the Tom and Jerry, each of whom now knew the other's name as well as his own, could put a face to a name - except for Sari! They all knew Sari! It was an easy name to remember. And Sari Kinnis could identify each boy. It was Sari who initiated the talk. She pointed a finger at Shalem Hoser and declared, "My father once had an office in Dallas." The fifteen year old boy beamed with pleasure at being the first to be addressed by the pretty English girl; it seemed to give him some priority to her affections. "He lived there for about three years." She looked towards Louis and Grossland, sitting opposite her, and remarked, "He also lived in New York for a while, on and off, when he was studying for his doctorate at MIT." She frowned in deep thought. "In Queens, I think it was. He said he loved New York." She laughed at the memory. "He said he was once mugged by a dozen little schoolkids!" She flirted her eyes from a drooling Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis to Yett Grossland and giggled. "I don't know whether they were black or white! But they were all about twelve year old, and half of them were girls!" "Is he dead?" It was seventeen year old Brett Stack, a pimpled youth from Chicago, who asked the question. Sari's frown deepened. "Departed," she replied, "but not dead!" But it dealt a death blow to the chatter. The group broke up for their first meal at a wayside diner approved by the people who organised the trip. Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis and Yett Grossland commandeered Sari. They assumed complete charge of her needs. They found the most secluded area in the garden of the diner; it was a bower deliberately designed to preserve its occupants (mostly business executives and their 'secretaries') from prying eyes. Grossland disappeared for several minutes and returned with a menu, but, apart from the various 'burgers', it could have been written in a language the girl did not understand, so the boys decided to order for her. And from that point on, it was accepted by the others in the pecking order that Sari was the exclusive property of these two boys, until they were invited to join the party. When they rejoined the bus, Louis had the girl slung over his shoulder, her feet were bound together with a leather belt, her hands secured behind her back with a necktie. Her short skirt had ridden up and Yett Grossland was playfully spanking. All three were laughing, as if it were a great joke. But the two New Yorkers were in deadly earnest despite the laughter, and Sari was calculating her chances of being let off with a couple of joggles during the long nights. Somehow, from what she had heard about American boys from the senior girls at school, and from the tentative wanderings of Louis's hand, she reckoned the chances were slender at best. Davis Carter frowned as he started the engine, but he failed to notice that Sari no longer occupied the seat nearest and opposite him. They had not untied the girl, but the conversation took an upturn; they all got to know each other better. Sari was now sitting between the two New Yorkers. Tom and Jerry had been displaced and sat opposite each other; Tom who previously had been immaculate in his dress now appeared positively dishevelled and without his school necktie. "What's this then?" Louis traced the outline of the embroidered emblem on Sari's school jacket. He pretended to read the golden words. It had to be a pretence; the boy was illiterate. He decided, "It's a badge." The observation amused the others. They laughed. He scowled. "It's Latin," explained Sari "In Vita Veritas." She suddenly felt sorry for the black boy in his embarrassment. "It means that there is truth in living! It is a quotation from a famous author!" "I'll drink to that!" exclaimed Jefferson, brightening again. "Here's to living!" exclaimed the boy from the Bronx pretending to lift a glass to his lips. "Lechiam!" exclaimed Shalem Hoser. Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis looked round to make sure that he was not being observed by Davis Carter, then undid the buttons of the jacket of Sari's school uniform. He slipped a hand under the garment to fondle the tiny breasts; he was unrivalled in this activity. The girl drew in her breath sharply and felt the tingling shivers run along her spine to her most secret places. There was a definite spasmodic jerking of her shoulder. "A man could kill for a tit like this is going to be," whispered Louis confidentially to the others. He kneaded the small pliable mound, then shifted his eyes from his hand to her face. He winked jokingly. "No brassiere?" Sari could scarcely speak. She shook her head. "No!" It was but a breath in the stifling air of the bus. Even the two gay boys were watching her. She swallowed. "Why? Are you objecting?" She made a tremendous effort to sound casual. She thought of Lor Oldmann. She thought of the damage he had inflicted on the Winnings. "Not is the least," grunted Jefferson Joe Louis. He studiously undid a couple of the buttons on her blouse and slipped his hand inside. He played with the bare breasts and flicked a tiny rosebud nipple with his thumb until he felt it hardening. He rolled it between a forefinger and thumb and the tingling shivers became waves of electric shock. He nibbled her ear. "I'll bet you have no panties either!" The suggestion was ludicrous. The boys were already witness to what she was wearing. Sari fell for it. She simulated outrage. "I have too!" There was a tightness in her chest. The jerking in her shoulder became more pronounced. "Let's see," said Louis. He pulled the miniskirt further up her thighs to expose her crutch. There was another sharp intake of breath. Louis leaned over to examine the emblem printed on the fabric. "That's the life and truth thing again. Isn't it?" Sari nodded. He traced the design over her pubis with the tip of his finger. Her breathing was laboured. Grossland pulled one knee aside, Louis the other. The tracing finger crept lower and the girl started to wriggle in her bonds. The black boy pressed his finger against the cleft of her vulva and rubbed. A dark spot appeared on the otherwise spotless fabric. He grinned in satisfaction. He wriggled a finger under the flimsy fabric to explore the fattening lips of her cunt. Sari wriggled and yelped her protest. The skirt was brushed down. "We'll investigate that possibility later," Jefferson said. The voice was hard. The light in his eyes was intense, almost insane. "I've never had an English girl before!" He pulled her face round to him and kissed her on the mouth. His tongue filled her maw until Sari was convinced that she would asphyxiate. He searched for and found her tiny breast again. His fondling was more demanding. She kicked with her bound feet and attempted to squirm free from the necktie around her wrists. "I'm going to enjoy having you!" he exclaimed. "I like fight in a female!" Carter's interruption was timely. The vehicle had taken a sharp swerve off the surfaced road and bumped and bucked its way for fifteen minutes before turning into the compound of what looked like the ruins of an old frontier outpost. Around it and beyond, as far as it was possible to see, was wilderness, almost desert. "This is where the real stuff starts," announced the man as he threw open the rear door. The boys laughed, but Carter did not understand the joke, consequently failed to appreciate it. He scowled. The necktie had been returned to its owner. The belt had been removed from around Sari's ankles. Her clothing had been buttoned and smoothed down. The boys made a show of stretching as they vacated the bus and the recent result of their sexual stimulation was obvious. The luggage compartment was emptied and distributed. What remained was equipment. "You all right?" Davis Carter demanded of Sari. He had noticed the bulges in the front of the boys' pants. When she nodded, he said, "Any problems, let me know!" He declared generally, "First, you set up your sleeping quarters for the night." He afforded the New Yorkers his darkest look. "The tents are there!" He indicated the bundles now lying on the ground beside the empty luggage compartment. "They are all identical, so it makes no difference which one you choose to erect. Three of you can share a tent. The others can go in pairs." He smiled at Tom and Jerry. "Sari gets a tent to herself. And its up to you how you do it; you can work on the tent you intend sleeping in, or you can help put up all the tents in turn." He gave a cold cynical laugh. "Sorry, but I'm not allowed to help. And I sleep in the bus." He pointed to the only roofed building in the circle. "The worst coming to the worst, you can shack down in there, but you won't win any points if you do!" Sari Kinnis had been erecting tents since infancy. She eyed the tightly packed bundles. "Overlanders!" she exclaimed with enthusiasm. She recognised the familiar cloud and pine tree trademark on the canvas. "These are spitting easy to assemble." She selected one and carried it to the secluded part of the clearing indicated by Davis Carter. By the time she had her tent erected, within fifteen minutes, and her luggage arranged, the boys still stood around hopelessly confused. Bits and pieces lay in chaos, parts of one tent mixed in with the bits of others. They squabbled among themselves. One of the boys, Tom (or Jerry) was in tears. Sari took charge. "You and you!" She pointed to the sex- crazed New Yorkers. "Set two poles in here!" She pointed to a spot farthest removed from her own tent. Carter smiled approvingly. She placed other tents appropriately, then organised the boys' efforts. With difficulty, within the hour, all seven boys were accommodated. They pretended that it was mostly by their own efforts and strutted with pride around their tents. Carter's smile broadened. When it came to preparing a meal, the boys were every bit as much at a loss; they had no idea where and how to begin; they could not even get a fire started. They grumbled about the organisation of the expedition and complained that Davis Carter was no real help. What wood they could find was damp and how did one light a fire anyway without kerosene and matches? One boy suggested siphoning fuel from the tank of their bus. "Gasoline is explosive," explained Sari. "Cavemen lit fires without matches or fire-lighters and with damp wood." She laughed happily now that she knew she was incontestably in total control of the situation. There was a budding sense of maternal power bursting into full bloom inside her. "Do you want me to do it for you - light your fires and cook your supper?" She deliberately exaggerated her words and let her gaze flit to each boy in turn, and each in turn nodded assent. She giggled. "You are a proper little wife," muttered Grossland. There was a pronouncedly sour note in the voice. He exchanged glances with Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis and Bret Stack. The three of them had become close in the past hour. They had agreed to share a tent. "You'll make some guys very happy one day!" The boys sniggered. "Or some night!" offered Stack. "Maybe even tonight," growled the black boy under his breath. "And maybe for a few guys!" Dusk lingers during the prairie Summer. It was a completely new experience for the boys and they were reluctant to end it. Sari had made a campfire in the way her parents made one on safari. She told them stories about the places she had seen. She had been born on a South Pacific island, she told them, but could remember nothing about the place. She had travelled in Africa, Asia and Australia. She spoke about her skiing holidays in Bronstadt and swimming in the Mediterranean. She told them the stories Lor's grandfather had told her, but left out the bits about the hostages being tied to the masts of the Viking ships and whipped. She wondered about that, for those were her favourite bits. The prairie moon appears like a thief in the night sky. It creeps up, and suddenly seems to explode its sinister brilliance on an unsuspecting world; it becomes so bright it can frighten the most hardened city-dweller, who associates it with ghostly apparitions, werewolves and vampires. Davis Carter waited to see the team bedded, especially Sari in her isolated corner, then he retreated to his sleeping bag in the miniature bus. He made a note of the fact that Sari had insisted on dousing the fire and covering the embers with earth. He had to admit it: Sari, and consequently the team, had made full points on his reckoning. Sari was asleep when the three boys crossed the clearing. Much more than the moon, they went as thieves in the night fully intent on robbing a female child of her most precious possession. They had listened for Carter's heavy breathing and snoring inside the vehicle. They made sure that the four other members of their team were asleep. They had acquired a flashlight, in the way that they had earlier acquired a necktie, and from the same victim. They forged a way with difficulty, despite the moonlight, over the ropes and pegs of the tents until they stood in momentary indecision in front of the girl's tent-flap, then pulled the fastener down silently and slowly. They heard what they took to be her regular breathing and made a final check: ropes, gag, jelly, rubbers. Jefferson Joe Louis pulled the flaps aside, Grossland shone the torch and the three together gazed into the sleeping child's tent. .straight into the flat savage face of a five hundred pound puma. Its eyes, green and silver, reflected the torchlight. It lay alongside Sari's sleeping bag. The girl, bare shoulders and the upper part of her naked chest exposed, had a hand on its rump. The animal rumbled its warning at the boys' intrusion, and bared its teeth, then snarled. The three boys numbed with terror; they had never before seen a real life mountain lion. They wet themselves in fright. Then regained some of their senses, backed away gingerly for twenty paces, swung round and fled silently in fear for their lives. The flaps of the girl's tent, front and rear, shifted slightly and silently in the prairie breeze. The beast settled its powerful head against the sleeping bag and rumbled its deep-throated contentment. And Sari dreamed of being alone in the wilderness with Lor. In the morning, the boys regarded Sari with the intensity of superstitious awe peculiar to modern, computer- oriented kids. To them any phenomenon that did not originate in a digital program was 'spooky' and was to be left alone. They played games with images of lawless men and wild beasts and fabulous monsters, but the confrontation was legit only on the screen of a monitor; direct contact with raw nature, even at the city zoo, was for geeks. News of the cougar in the night had permeated the camp and crazy theories were being proposed as a possible explanation. "It was no hallucination, man!" protested Grossland angrily to Tom and Jerry. "We didn't have no stuff like that! It was for real, man! It was as close as you two are!" He pushed the two from him. "Too close!" "And big! Too big!" the black nineteen year old assured the company. "It filled the tent, I can tell you!" Shalem Hoser smiled indulgently - he was familiar with this kind of overstatement; his father had recently exaggerated his love for his underage daughters by keeping them safe from ghosts and intruders and things (other than himself) that go bump in the night in bed at home and was now spending some time in prison. Tom and Jerry lifted their eyes to heaven. Louis pouted. He threatened to smash their faces to pulp for their disbelief. Bret Stack attempted to mediate. "I'd like to have seen any of you guys handle it. It was real wild like! Like you see in the movies!" His tremor was no simulation. "Only this was no movie!" The conversation died as Sari Kinnis, looking immaculate, emerged from her tent. She had already been up and washed at first light to avoid any possible embarrassment to the others. The New Yorkers and the boy from Chicago had expected her to be bloody or dishevelled, frightened shit scared at the very least. There was a definite, fearful drawing back as she approached the group. Carter was shaving at a safari table set up under a tree; he watched from a distance, and grinned at the reflected consternation in the group. "Yeah!" Tom remarked cynically to Jerry. "Looks like she's been savaged by wild beasts!" Both boys sniggered. It broke the spell. "Waiting for breakfast?" enquired Sari. She smiled. "They say there was an animal in your tent last night," said Hoser. He pointed at Louis, Stack and Yett Grossland. Sari was puzzled. "Was there?" She let her gaze flit from boy to boy. "They say, do they? And how would they know?" Davis Carter approached with his shaving kit wrapped in a towel. "You all right?" He directed the question again at Sari. The girl nodded. The group of boys made to split up. "Wait!" he called out. "Before you get today's assignment, I want you to appoint a leader." He looked amused. "One who can count the fingers on one hand! Preferably!" He laughed. The first assignment of the day was to map out the area around their camping site. "Twelve miles diameter should suffice," Davis Carter had suggested when he met them again after a breakfast prepared by the girl. "Tomorrow we can go farther afield!" He also suggested that they split into pairs and take the four principal compass points as their starting point. They could co-ordinate their sketches when they returned to base. "I can say no more!" He retreated to the coffee pot. "But I think you guys should get real!" They had appointed Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis as their leader. He laughed again. "Louis! Jesusssss Chrissstmassss!" He left the boy from Harlem to select the pairings. "Bloody political correctness!" He howled. There was no way the sarcasm could have been missed. "Now that is a surprise!" exclaimed the boy from Chicago. Tom and Jerry would go north, simply because they refused to be split up, and no-one else wanted to go with either anyway. Grossland and Stack would go east and the remaining two boys would go south. Carter frowned when he was told about it. He had misgivings about the eleven year old girl and the nineteen year old Louis being out on their own for most of the day. He shrugged. Apart from either Tom or Jerry, he could not have trusted any of them alone with the girl. So why pick on Louis? Was it because he was black? "How far do you think we've walked?" Louis looked back. The camp was out of sight. The terrain had been rough, and the boy was unused with walking on anything but paved sidewalks. The barrenness of the country gave him a sense of unease; at the same time, the loneliness of the place and the company of a beautiful young girl excited him. Sari smiled softly. "About two kilometres." She corrected herself. "Miles! About two miles." They still spoke of miles in America. The boy gasped. "Christ! And we've twelve to go?" "Only another four." Sari corrected him this time. "Mr. Carter talked about a diameter of twelve miles. That is, twelve miles across. We only have to do half of that. A radius of six miles!" "I was good at drawing," boasted Louis quite irrelevantly. He looked around as if to convince himself that they were finally on their own and out of sight of the base camp. Sari attempted to establish a logical connection between distances and the boy's artistic talents. She could find none. She decided to let it pass. They walked on until she judged they were more than half the distance to their goal - a saucer-shaped outcrop among the foothills of Colorado. Her companion let out his breath in a hiss of resignation and relief when she suggested that they could stop. "Drawing was the only thing I was any good at." He sat on a rock, and opened the buttons of his shirt. "I reckon I'm not very smart!" He fanned himself with a handkerchief that had been cleaner in its better days. "Never made much of school past fourth grade. Never went much to school, to be honest!" He visibly shook himself. He pointed at the girl, now seated on the ground at a safe distance. "Now, you!" He growled the words. "You have it all laid out on a plate for you!" Sari sensed a dangerous hostility. "You only have to lap it up. Your folks are rich. And you're smart." He rose aggressively. Sari also stood. "And you're good looking." He moved towards her. "You are a beautiful little bit of..." "I'm also fast," interrupted Sari. "I can outrun you a billion to one." She moved farther from the boy. "I could be back at the bus and on the phone to the authorities before you caught your second wind." She laughed gaily. But she was not entirely confident of her gut feeling that the boy would not dare seriously assault her. Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis grinned. "All I want is to be nice and friendly to you." "You wanted to have sex with me," replied Sari. "That's what all that pussy cat business was about last night, wasn't it?" She sniggered. "And those condom things and that tube of lubricant, not to mention the rope you dropped outside my tent." The reference appeared to have a sobering effect on the boy. His face clouded. "That was no pussy cat, last night!" He turned away. "Let's move. Let's get this drawing thing done and get back." He moved off; Sari followed a few paces behind. He looked back. "Come on," he urged. "I won't fuck you today. I promise!" There was a hungry glint in his eye and an evil smile played on his lips. When she was alongside him, he laid an arm across her shoulder. "We are in this thing together. We gotta be friends! Right?" Sari did not reply. "I really do want to be nice to you," he insisted. She remained silent. But there was a strange stirring in her groins. And her shoulder jerked. In spite of everything, including her better judgement, she really liked the big boy. The intense isolation of the place and the closeness of the big boy were having their effects on her. She admitted to herself: he was really quite handsome. Two hours later Sari examined the boy's drawings. There was no denying the fact that they were artistic in a childish way. But what were they intended to represent? Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis waited expectantly. The girl pursed her lips. A feeling of excruciating pity for the boy welled up inside her as she gazed at his wide ingenuous eyes. The disturbances inside her were also becoming much more intense and demanding. "Well? What do you think?" "What are these lines here?" Sari indicated the perfectly executed wave forms. "There is no water out there!" "Birds!" Jefferson Joe Louis beamed, and the child's heart melted. "There was lots of birds where I was!" "Oh, Lor!" thought Sari. "How do I tell him?" She thought about something her father had said when they were going walkabout in north-west Australia. "Your life may depend, one day, on being able to read a map properly and being able to give an accurate description of where you are at any given time." He had taught her to look for the salient features in a landscape and to ignore what was of little consequence and what was likely to change within a very short passage of time. Louis, she guessed, had not been out of Harlem before. "Let's have some lunch!" she said brightly. Again, she felt really sorry for the big coloured boy. "This is the life!" After their lunch Louis stretched. It had not been the standard hot dog or beefburger and French fries, but it had sufficed. He eyed the girl and again gave inner acquiescence to the fact that she was as beautiful a kid as he had ever seen, and several times sexier looking than most of the girls of her age he had come across. He licked his lips; it was his equivalent of Sari's shoulder jerks. "You got a boyfriend?" he asked. When she nodded, he said, "He can't think much of you to let you loose on planet earth. If you was mine." He left the sentence unfinished. Sari was wary. She sensed the tenseness in his powerful frame. She suspected boiling emotions similar to those inside herself. She made to rise. Suddenly, Louis twisted round and sprang. The litheness of his movement had taken her by surprise. He pressed her back to the ground. He rolled on top of her and laughed. He began systematically to feel her breasts and grope between her legs. She squirmed in his groping grasp and tried to avert her face when he made to kiss her. He held her wrists behind her in one of his huge hands. He took her by the throat and forced his tongue between her lips. "Jefferson, you promised," she gasped as soon as she had breath enough. She was aware of her shoulder jerking frenetically. She was also more painfully aware of the frothing turbulence in the region of her stomach and a decided wetness on her panties. The disturbance made her feel sick and elated at one and the same time. "Promises were made to be broke!" The absurdity of the situation struck Sari; she wanted to correct his grammar. Louis had already been inside her blouse to maul her small breasts and was now under her skirt pulling at the waist elastic of her panties. "Please, Jefferson! Don't do it! It is ten to twelve years in prison for the rape of a minor in this state." Sari had read somewhere that such a penalty had been imposed on an escaped convict for the rape of a schoolchild; she could not recall the exact details - she believed it had been a homosexual assault in Kansas. But any defence in her present predicament was justified, she felt. It seemed to work - for a minute or two. The boy eyed his prey. "Ten to twelve?" he echoed, then decided. "It would be worth it!" He hauled again at her panties and succeeded in getting them half-way down her kicking legs. He pushed her back into his crooked arm and stared into her eyes. "Shit, Sari, you would be worth getting life for!" It was the oddest thing; the way he spoke her name, for the first time, excited her; there was an intimacy about it. She also felt flattered. That someone wanted her so much that he would spend a fair slice of his life in prison, was a new and quite bewildering experience. But she suspected the claim was rhetorical. She wriggled vigorously in his grasp and managed to kick him a couple of times. He thrust a huge fist under her nose and swore viciously. "Lie still, you fucking little bitch! Or I'll smash your fucking face!" The anger in his voice was real and it scared her. "You're going to get what's coming to you whatever happens," he snarled. "You've been begging for cock! So lie back and let yourself enjoy it! All eight inches of it!" In a final attempt to defend her virginity, Sari said, "Jefferson, let me joggle you instead!" The boy stared at her. "Joggle?" At least it had halted the savage assaults. The waistband of her knickers had already been snapped. He played with the garment as it clung loosely around her knees. He repeated the word as a question demanding an answer. Sari explained, and Jerry Joe Louis laughed and fell back but retained his fast grip on her. "Right, baby! Joggle will do for starters. Let's JOGGLE!" And he laughed heartily. "But you take it out! And watch out for that zip; the teeth are razor sharp." His laughter increased in volume. "Joggle!" He guided her hand to his flies. He rubbed himself with her hand. "Let's get joggling!" She had no way of measuring it, but Sari was totally freaked out at the size of the thing she held in her hand; she guessed it must have been twenty centimetres long, and correspondingly thick. Despite its hardness it felt oily or slimy. She could feel the vein throbbing along its full length. The thought of it being thrust into an aperture in her body so tight that it could scarcely accommodate her little finger terrified her. The massive purple and black glans seemed inflated and looked for all the world like some grotesque lollipop or toadstool. She wondered what it would feel like to take it into her mouth. He held her in the crook of his arm. He caressed her face, fondled and squeezed her breasts until it hurt, and rubbed between her legs as she masturbated him. He crooned, "Oh, baby! You have a touch like velvet!" He kissed her face. His body lifted and fell and squirmed insanely, and he ejaculated in an explosion of writhing and wrenching while retaining his close hold on the girl. He pulled the torn panties from her legs and wiped himself, then stuffed the flimsy strip of material into his pocket. There was look of sheer wonder on his face as he stared at the girl. Then kissed her with a violence that rekindled her fear and desire. "Did you screw her?" Sari caught the words as she made for her tent immediately on their return. She also noted the boys' laughter when Louis replied, "What do you think?" and produced the torn panties from his pocket. The drift of the conversation around their tents was obvious. The laughter intensified as the word 'joggle' was repeated several times. Tears formed in her eyes. She felt cheated, betrayed and disgraced. She looked towards the transit bus. Davis Carter, however, was not in evidence. Tom and Jerry appeared at her tent later in the afternoon. They were genuinely sad. "I hope you don't get the impression that all American boys come from the same mould as that animal." "We really are sorry for what happened." "If you want we'll sleep in your tent with you." "At least we can make a noise. I don't suppose we'll put up much of a fight against five of them!" "That's kind of you, Philip," answered Sari, "but it won't be necessary." The boy was happily surprised. "You know my real name!" he gazed at his companion. "I know the others call us Tom and Jerry. Henry and I don't mind. We've been taking that kind of shit for most of our lives. Louis has already beaten me up and has threatened Henry a couple of times. But you are a guest in this country and deserve traditional American respect and hospitality." "It is really all right!" insisted Sari. "I'll be fine!" "These guys," said Henry, pointing to the other tents, "are planning on paying you a visit tonight." "And Louis is planning to rape you again!" "Again?" Sari was angry. "There won't be an again, I can assure you. There wasn't a first time, believe me." She gave them a brief account of her masturbation of the boy. "And I did it because he threatened to punch my face to a bleeding mess." "He said you had given him a hand job," admitted Philip. "But he also said you had given him a blow job and that he had raped you twice - front and back," added Henry. "That's how he got your panties.." "And tonight they are planning to gang-bang you!" "I take it," declared Sari when she re-emerged refreshed and re-dressed to join the other boys, "that you people are not the least bit hungry." Tom and Jerry lingered in the background. The sniggers died, the smirks vanished as Sari took her own supplies, spoke briefly with Davis Carter, and returned to her tent. Carter examined the maps. He shook his head in disdain. Of the eight, only Sari's map made sense. The others showed roads, railways and rivers where none could possibly have existed. The road was missing in the one sketch where it ought to have been. One had a coastline with rolling waves and a lighthouse and a ship in distress. Tom and Jerry had colluded to produce identical maps, but these were completely featureless apart from a large X to indicate where they had been standing, some trees and arrows to indicate directions. He emitted a soft sigh as he transmitted the efforts over the videophone and was not surprised when he received in return a grading only for Sari's sketch of the westlands. The rest of the team, Carter concluded, were clueless to the point of being a positive danger to themselves if left alone. Their attempts to make a meal for themselves were miserable. The fire resolutely refused to behave, what food they managed to prepare was virtually raw, utterly devoid of nutritional value or taste, or burnt to a cinder, and Stack and Louis came to blows over the rations and had to be separated by Carter and threatened with ejection from the expedition. "That will be fine by me!" exclaimed the boy from the Windy City. "It's all been a fucking waste of time anyway." "And by me," declared the black boy from New York. Davis Carter smiled at his success in getting the two to agree on something. Breakfast was little better. Sari had slept in the bus with the doors locked while Carter occupied her tent. She was awake, washed and had eaten by first light, and listening to music on the radio by the time the boys appeared. After several unsuccessful attempts at making coffee, they gave up and Carter took control of their efforts. He made a meal for them because, he decided, otherwise they would starve, and he was responsible for their survival. He concluded that something unsavoury had taken place between the girl and the black boy. He had made a couple of approaches, but was rewarded with neither information nor complaint from either. Then, as he had anticipated, there was a coup d'etat. It came late in the afternoon after another fruitless day of frustrating mayhem. Louis produced a string of invective. "If you think you can do any better, you do it!" "Tom and Jerry could do better," declared the seventeen year old from Chicago. "And I don't mean these two ponsers!" He pointed to the gay boys. The others laughed. Louis fumed, but he had found his match in Stack in their previous confrontation. "I vote we let the little tit take over as leader!" And the others applauded. "And what if the little tit has had enough of you clowns?" demanded Sari. "And doesn't want anything to do with you?" "Please!" It was Grossland, Stack and Hoser who made the appeal. "Please," they repeated. "We'll do anything you ask!" "Anything?" "Please!" echoed Tom and Jerry. "Please," begged Davis Carter. "For the sake of my sanity!" By the fifth day of the expedition some semblance of respectability had been restored to the scores attained by the depleted team. The entire group had redrawn the maps of their territory under the guidance of the eleven year old girl. They had succeeded in solving the riddles in the treasure hunts and had completed the half dozen tasks set by the organizers. The penultimate day involved the use of some fairly elementary pieces of equipment to measure temperature, relative humidity, wind speed and direction, and air pressure. They had also to collect samples of soil, water, rock and air. Sari had been doing these exercises from her first days in preparatory school. There was safety in numbers, she had decided. Consequently, the tasks were performed by the entire team rather than by individuals or pairs as they had been on the first two days. "We can put some soil in a little box," suggested one of the boys sagely, "and some water in a bottle, and pick up a bit of rock. But how the hell do you take a sample of the air?" When Sari explained about atmospheric displacement and told him to take the lid off and shake a jar about for half a minute, he stared, his disbelief aggressively apparent, and demanded, "Are you trying to make a monkey out of me?" And the other boys laughed. Sari had no way of knowing how it happened, but suddenly in mid-afternoon she found herself in the company of the two New Yorkers, the boy from Chicago and Shalem Hoser. The other three boys, she suspected, had been threatened with violence if they followed. The girl and the boys had wandered into a shallow gulch. The passage had become extremely narrow and rough. She surveyed the scene and decided. "We'll make for that plateau." She pointed to an accessible slope leading to the top of the escarpment. "We can take our bearings from there." The boys allowed her to lead for a quarter of the distance. She had left her school jacket behind in the bus. There were traces of perspiration on the underarms of her white blouse and along her spine. Her skirt seemed, if anything, shorter than it had been on their previous viewing of it. The immaculate legs were seen to fullest advantage from below on the climb. And the spotless panties appeared as a flash of whiteness in the bright sunlight. When they reached the first plateau, a shelf with a deep indentation in the solid rock, Bret Stack caught up with her, held her by the arms and pinned her against the rock face. "This is as far as you go, baby," he growled. "We have needs that have to be met, and you are all that's available at this point in time, so I reckon we'll have to make do." Sari struggled and kicked, but he kept a firm hold on her. He inclined his head to the others. "What do you think, guys? Will she do?" "I reckon!" replied Grossland. Hoser and Louis laughed. Sari was forced to the ground. Her head banged the hard rock and, while she did not lose consciousness, for several seconds she was dazed and confused and consequently debilitated. Stack threw himself on top of her. She fought and wriggled free from his grasp and scampered on her hands and knees. Hoser and Grossland pursued her and brought her back into the close confines of the narrow cleft in the rock. Louis took hold of her wrists and Hoser her ankles. She was stretched and held as fast as if by ropes and chains and straps. Yett Grossland bared her chest and Bret Stack brushed her short skirt back and pulled her panties down to her feet. Hoser yanked them free and threw them aside. Sari twisted and turned. She snarled threats. "Yeah, yeah, sweetheart," sneered Stack. "You'll report us to the feds and we'll get ten years inside." He caressed her shapely legs and brought his hand up to her crutch and rubbed while Grossland mauled her small breasts. "But by that time we'll have fucked the ass off you, all four of us, and we'll all have the memory of steeping in your juices. So you may as well lay back and enjoy the ride, baby!" He undid his belt and flies and pulled his pants down to his knees. He took over from Hoser, spread her legs and hauled her hips along the rough rock to meet his. Sari could not help but notice that he was every bit as well endowed as Louis. An intense heat swept over her. She knew that her vaginal wetness was pouring from her on to the boy's invading, probing fingers. She felt his firm masculinity being introduced to her softness. She felt the opening to her most secret place being invaded, the labia being splayed and her hymenal membrane stretching. She braced herself for the boy's final thrust into her. Tears flooded her eyes. She screamed. "O, Lor! I am sorry!" Her young body was acquiescing to the rape. Her womb was throbbing desire and longing, her buttocks were lifting to meet the aggressor, the muscles inside her Lady Cynthia were contracting. She wanted this to happen every bit as much as her violator was determined to make it happen. She felt Stack stiffening as he pushed into her. ..and then the world around her suddenly and inexplicably exploded into primeval chaos for a split second of eternity. A golden brown shadow burst above her head. Bret Stack's scream ripped at her nerve-endings. She felt him being lifted from her, sucked away, as it were, up into the hot, dry atmosphere. There was a strong animal smell and the stench of freshly drawn blood. Her wrists were released. She sat up. A massive growling, grunting puma, as long as Stack was tall, was rolling about agitatedly on top of the boy and ripping at clothing and flesh. The three other boys, trapped inside the narrow enclosure, were frozen with fear. Hoser was quaking uncontrollably and Grossland was wetting himself. Jefferson Louis could only gawk with eyes that had never been wider; saliva dribbled from his gaping mouth. "Stop it!" yelled Sari. "Stop it!" Still on the ground, she lunged at the beast, flung her arms around its thickset neck and tried to pull it free from its prey. She could scarcely focus because of the tears. "Oh, please stop. Please! Please don't kill him!" The beast halted its attack. It shook itself, twisted a blood-sotted face to the girl and bared its teeth. She shrank back in terror. The animal grumbled its dissatisfaction, cast an apathetic glance at the bleeding boy then eyed the other three. There seemed another eternity of inaction, broken only when Davis Carter fired the single shot. It was meant to be aimed into the vacant air, but there was the sound of a stinging ricochet from the uneven rock, a glancing disturbance of the dust, and the pellet nicked the rump of the cat. The cougar spun round on the spot, sprang upwards to the rock ledge and disappeared. Bret Stack lay silent. Sari bent over him. She ripped off her blouse and wrapped it around his gashed neck. Very gently, she turned the boy on to his back. His eyes were half closed. She searched frantically for a pulse; there was none, but blood continued to pump from his torn veins. She noticed the button of semen on the point of his still erect cock. She felt sickeningly guilty. "You!" She yelled at the boys. "Give me your shirts! Now!" She was giving Stack mouth-to-mouth resuscitation when Davis Carter and the other three boys finally reached the shelf. There was a feeling of having done it all before; she thought of the lifeless body of Lor's alter ego on the piste. She was weeping great tears of remorse for her feelings and sadness for the injured boy. "Are you all right?" Carter demanded. When Sari rewarded him with a withering look and continued with her ambulance efforts on the injured Stack, he barked orders to the six boys. There was a first aid box next to the driver's seat on the bus, and a stretcher under the floor at the rear. He removed his safari jacket and draped it over the all but naked girl. "Bret!" Sari soothed tearfully. "Don't leave us." She hugged the boy. "Please hang on! Please don't die! We'll get you to hospital!" Stack grunted. His eyes flickered. "Oh, please don't go!" There was an atmosphere of subdued resignation about the camp on their last evening. An air ambulance had removed Stack to the emergency unit of the nearest hospital. The latest word Carter had received was that the boy had horrific, life-threatening injuries, that he was fighting for his survival and that everything humanly possible would be done for him, but that it would be fruitless to hope too much for a full recovery. Things were bad! Jefferson Joe Louis appeared by Sari's side. "I'm sorry!" he said. The girl sat apart from the others. "Truly and really sorry!" he insisted. His moist eyes refused to be averted. She looked exquisite. She had scrubbed the blood from her and put on fresh clothes - another short skirt and a spotlessly white blouse with a school crest over her left breast. He could even glimpse the white flash of fresh panties. There was an endlessly resolute tranquillity about her, an almost mysterious appearance of being in accord with everyone and everything around her. It was a state of mind beyond the limits of the boy's comprehension. "I can't blame you for being." He searched for the words; he felt sincerely regretful, but did not know how to express himself. It was a totally new experience for him; he had never before in his life felt the need to apologise for anything, especially to a girl. But this was different, completely and overwhelmingly different. "Sceptical?" suggested Sari. "Cynical?" In an inexplicable way she really liked this big, clumsy coloured boy. She emitted a long sigh and wondered, if things had been otherwise, could she have felt for Joe Louis what she felt, deep down inside her, for Lor Oldmann? The boy produced the torn panties from her first confrontation. "I think you should have these." He attempted to stammer more words of apology. Sari made no attempt to take them. She eyed the garment for a long time. "No! I think you should keep them, Jefferson," she replied after the prolonged silence. "It may serve to remind you of what might have been had you gone about it differently." She softened and smiled. "And it may be lesson material for you in the future - to reinforce the message that there is much more to happiness in life than self-gratification!" Jefferson Louis shifted uncertainly. He found it difficult to concentrate in the presence of such an attractive female, even one so young. He stuffed the garment back into his pocket. "Look," he said with determination, "I am really sorry for what has happened." There was truth in this little packet of life, as Sari's school motto proclaimed, and there was an earnestness on the boy's face. "I would rather die right now than do anything else to hurt you. I swear it. I would give anything not have done these things to you. If there is ever anything I can do for you, anything at all, I'll do it without question or complaint. That is a promise!" Sari gave a quiet laugh. "Like your promise not to rape me?" She instantly regretted the words; the boy was so remorseful. The tears ran in streaky channels down his cheeks. Her heart melted. "I'm sorry Jefferson; I should not have said that. I believe you!" She smiled on him. "And hereby forgive you your trespasses." She laughed. "And acquit you of all guilt." She stood. She kissed his cheek. She watched him retreat to join the others around the campfire that Davis Carter had lit. A strangely deep, new kind of longing had crept up on her. She wanted Lor Oldmann. She needed Lor Oldmann. Her shoulder started jerking with a persistence that shattered her apparent composure; there was a stirring in the abyss inside her and a surging churning in her stomach. She joined the boys at their barbecue, but was aware that she was staring at Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis. The inner disturbance intensified as the prairie night closed in on them. Sari felt sick, but it was the kind of sickness for which there is no known cure. She was hungry, but it was the birth of a hunger that does not dissipate with feasting. A tug-of-war was being contested in her mind, and for once she had only the vaguest notion of what she was about to do for it. When the boys split up for the night, Sari called out, "Jefferson, can I speak to you for a bit?" She had never before felt so unsettled - nor so sensual. "I need your help tonight!" Davis Carter had already offered to occupy her tent again while she slept in the locked bus. She refused, insisting that the day's traumatic effect would be sufficient safeguard. "These boys have had enough excitement to last them a while," she said. She even attempted a laugh. Jefferson Joe Louis woke with the early morning coldness in Sari's tent. He appraised the girl. She was naked except for the brief panties with the school crest and the Latin motto. It was another entirely new experience for him: to have passed the night with a girl who was still a virgin in the morning. He leaned across and kissed her gently on the lips. Then dressed. And left. There was a germinating sense that, in some odd way which he still had difficulty in understanding, he had acquitted himself with honour. Sari had been sublimely satisfied - several times in the night. Nor was Jefferson Joe complaining! But then, he was an expert. And Sari had proved to be a zealous learner. *** ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life in anyway shape or form. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 19