7019 lines
371 KiB
Plaintext
7019 lines
371 KiB
Plaintext
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STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
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(PART ONE)
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By Parker
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WARNING: This story contains blackmail, non-consensual
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sex, D&S, humiliation and all that sort of good stuff
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(although, not in every instalment). This story is not
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politically correct! If you do not enjoy reading about
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this sort of thing, STOP NOW (before it is too late).
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- This is the first part of a ten part series (I hope).
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Copyright 1993
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Feel free to send the story where you will, but use some common
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sense.
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*******************************************************************
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Neil was the one to notice it: Stacy Richards cheating on an
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examination! He nudged his friend Gary and pointed towards the
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front of the class.
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"Check it out," he whispered.
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Gary saw, but couldn't believe what he was seeing. Stacy
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Richards - the ice-queen cock tease of the senior class at
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Greenwood High - was staring intently at a slip of paper hidden
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on her desk under the exam. Just then, Mr.Edgar, the teacher,
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coughed quietly and shifted position in his seat at the front of
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the class. Stacy quickly pushed the cheat-sheet back under the
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exam paper and looked up guiltily, her face flushing a pretty
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shade of red. If Mr.Edgar had glanced over at her at that moment
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he would certainly have known that something was wrong with her. But why
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would he be checking out Stacy Richards, who had been
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getting straight A grades ever since she had begun attending
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Greenwood High four years ago? Instead, he turned his attention
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to Neil French and Gary Syms, who were the class trouble-makers:
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Neil with his long, greasy hair and semi-stylish ripped clothes
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and Gary with his cynical, cutting sense of geek humour. Sure
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enough, they were grinning and whispering together at the back of
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the classroom rather than writing the exam.
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"French... Syms," he called out, drawing himself laboriously
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out of his chair and up to his rather unimpressive full hight,
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"Front of the class."
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No longer smiling, the two boys got up and walked slowly
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forward, the centre of attention, with everyone in the class
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looking up at them from their exams. Neil noticed Stacy smirking
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at him with her typical, haughty sneer.
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Bitch, he thought, we'll see who's laughing in a second.
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"Mr.Edgar," he blurted as he reached the front of the room,
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"We saw..." He was cut off by Gary elbowing him subtly, but stiffly, in
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the side. He drew in a breath to continue speaking, but he was
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interrupted by the angry teacher.
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"You two have been nothing but trouble since you started
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this class in September," Mr.Edgar announced, his full white
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moustache quivering with indignation. "I can no longer allow you
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to disrupt this class with your infantile jokes and games,
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particularly during exams."
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Neil started to protest, but was again cut off by Mr.Edgar,
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who had worked up a full head of steam.
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"You have both failed this examination. You will apologise
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to the class for the disruption, and then you will leave." He
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glared at the two boys. "Do you understand?"
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Both boys nodded a sullen 'yes'.
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"Any further problems," the teacher finished his
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pronouncement of sentence, "And you will be removed from this
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class permanently. Perhaps you will be able to make up the course
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in summer school."
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Gary didn't react, but Neil looked up in alarm. That was
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about the most serious threat a teacher could make, short of
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outright expulsion. Bakersville was a beach town in southern
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California, and summer was by far the best time of the year,
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particularly for the teenagers. Being forced to waste the summer
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months inside the stuffy high school while everyone else partied
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on the beach was about the worst fate a teenager could suffer.
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Apparently cowed, Neil and Gary turned around and stammered
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out an embarrassed apology to the class. A few kids giggled -
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Neil noted that Stacy was one of them - but most looked away,
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uncomfortable at the humiliation of their fellow students. The
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two boys then filed out of classroom and into the hallway.
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*****
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Stacy shrugged her blonde hair off her shoulder and looked
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back down at the examination as the class returned to normal.
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Thank god those two geeks were gone, she thought, and tried to
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put Neil and Gary from her mind. In her world, there were
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"people" and there were "geeks", and Neil and Gary definitely
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fell into the latter category. She wouldn't even have known their
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names except that Neil had spent the better part of the first
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term of the previous year following her about, and had even asked
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her out on a date. As if! She had refused in as cruel a manner as
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she knew how (which was pretty cruel), and had later asked Pete,
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her then boyfriend and captain of the football team, to beat Neil
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up, just to warn him off. Pete had dutifully administered the
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beating, and Neil had backed off. She had soon afterward broken
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up with Pete - he had lost his place on the football team that
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spring - and had put the entire episode from her mind.
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Reluctantly, she turned her attention back to the exam. She
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frowned down at the test, as if she could intimidate the answers
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off the written page. Questions which had been easy for her a
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year ago now seemed impossibly hard. Stacy was quite intelligent,
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and had always gotten almost perfect marks at school, but lately
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the constant burden of socializing - cheerleading, beachparties,
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student council etc. - had left her little time for schoolwork.
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As a result, she had found herself approaching the first set of
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school exams of her senior year completely unprepared. And if she
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did poorly or - unthinkable - failed, she would loose her record
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of straight As, and would probably fail to be elected Homecoming
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Queen, the goal toward which she had been working for the last
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few years. Hence, she had decided to make a few crib notes to get
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her through the first round of exams. After that, she told
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herself, she would get back on track with the schoolwork.
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Looking around to make certain she was unobserved, she
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pushed the exam paper upwards to expose the notes she had written
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on the cheat-sheet...
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*****
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Neil smouldered with anger as walked down the hall with
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Gary. That had been the perfect chance to get back at that bitch
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Stacy, and Gary had blown it for him! Neil's thoughts lingered on
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Stacy as he grumbled to himself.
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Stacy was one of those unattainable high school princesses
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who enjoyed showing herself off, but didn't put out. With her
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shoulder-length blonde hair, perfect face (large green eyes, pert
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nose and thick,pouty lips), and athlete's body (she was a member
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of both the swim team and the track team), she was easily the
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most beautiful girl in Greenwood, and every male student's dream.
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But dream she remained for most. She moved exclusively in
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the highest high school social circles, and only went out with
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sports stars and the like. Neil had developed a crush on her
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earlier the previous year, and it wasn't until she had sent that
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football jerk to beat him up that he got over her. The fact was,
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she only noticed guys like Neil (and Gary, for that matter) when
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they bothered her, and she had to put them off (or "...out of
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their misery..." as Neil had once heard her laughingly remark to
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one of her friends).
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The two boys left the school by the side entrance and began
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to walk across the south parking lot. Finally, Neil could contain
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himself no longer.
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"Why'd you shut me up in there?" he complained, "I had that
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bitch right where I wanted her. I owe her."
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Gary just smiled at this, making Neil uncomfortable. Where
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Neil was loud and obnoxious, Gary was quiet and strange. Despite
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the fact that the two had been friends for a number of years,
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Gary was still capable of unnerving his larger friend with his
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strange smile and even stranger ideas.
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"What's so funny?" Neil asked nervously.
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"You're right," Gary answered quietly, "We do have her where
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we want her, but not in the way you mean."
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Neil was puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
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"If you had told on her back in the classroom just now,
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Edgar might or might not have believed you. Probably not; you
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know he doesn't like us. And if not - if Stacy had managed to
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hide her cheating - we would have been kicked out of the class
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for good, and been stuck in summer school. And even if he had
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caught her, at most she would have failed the exam, if that. The
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teachers love her. Then she would set her friends on us."
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"But..." Neil began.
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"You remember Pete."
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Neil could only nod glumly in agreement, recalling the
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beating he had suffered last year. Stacy had no shortage of
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friends on the football team. "So," he said finally, "You said we
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had her where we wanted her."
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"Yes, I did," Gary agreed.
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"How?"
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By now, the two boys had reached Gary's car, a large, black
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Pontiac. Gary unlocked the doors before answering.
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"If she's cheating now on a math test," he explained, "she
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must be in trouble with her schoowork. She's always gotten top
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marks in math."
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"Yeah?" Neil was still confused. "So?"
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"So," Gary continued patiently, "It's a pretty safe bet
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she'll cheat again. There's an English test coming up next week,
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and I don't think a little cheat-sheet will be of much use to
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her. You have to have read the material." He started up the car
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and began to pull out of the parking space. Neil thought this
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over as Gary manouvered the vehicle out of the school parking lot
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and onto the road.
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"So," he asked finally, "What do we do about it?"
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"I'll tell you when we get to Sharon's place," Gary
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answered, "We'll need her for what I have in mind."
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*****
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Sharon was Gary's friend and sometime girlfriend. Neil was
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never really sure about their relationship - he knew that they
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went out and that they occasionally had sex, but he also knew
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that Sharon did the same with at least a couple of other guys.
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Gary, however, didn't seem to mind, so Neil had decided to take
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things at face value. He had even made something of a pass at
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Sharon at a beach party last summer, but had been rebuffed. He
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was philosophical about it; Sharon wasn't really his type anyway.
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The girl in question appeared in the doorway, answering
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their knock. A year younger than the two boys, Sharon was short
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and heavy, with large breasts and curly, brown hair. Any
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suggestion of cuteness, however, was quickly dispelled by her
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hard face and small, piggy (Neil thought) eyes. If there was any
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beauty there, it was definitely in the eye of the beholder. She
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was smoking a cigarette as she answered the door.
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After a quick greeting (and an obligatory "hello" to
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Sharon's mother - propped up, as usual, in front of the
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television), Sharon led the two boys down to her basement
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bedroom, locking the door behind her (Sharon's parents were
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"progressive", and felt that she needed her privacy). Neil
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accepted a cigarette and flopped down into a chair while pulling
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a lighter from his jacket pocket. Gary, who didn't smoke, just
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leaned up against the dresser. Sharon lay down on the bed and
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propped herself up with a pillow.
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"So," she asked, flicking some ash onto the dirty shag
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carpet, "What are you guys doing here? I thought you had math
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with Edgar until 3:00."
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Neil grimaced. "We did," he answered, "Until he kicked us
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out."
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"What?"
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Gary took over the explanation and outlined the sequence of
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events that had led to their expulsion from the math class.
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Typically, Sharon immediately blamed Stacy.
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"That cunt!" she swore angrily, "Cheating on the test and
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getting you guys kicked out. She's really asking for it."
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"Yes, she is," Gary agreed quietly, "And I think I know how
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we can give it to her."
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"What do you mean?"
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"We know she's cheating on her exams, right?"
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Neil and Sharon nodded in agreement.
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"I think that it's pretty likely she'll cheat again. I don't
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think that she's had to do it before, so she's probably way
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behind in her work. The fact that she's cheating - and that we
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know she's cheating - gives us a hold on her; a way of
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blackmailing her, but we need more."
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Neil thought this over for a few moments. "Like what?" he
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asked.
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"First, we need concrete evidence of the cheating. No one is
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going to take our word over Stacy's. That's where you come in,
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Sharon. Your dad lets you use his video camera and radio -
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microphone. We'll use that to trap her."
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"And then what?" Neil was starting to become excited at the
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prospect of blackmailing Stacy.
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Gary fell silent for a moment, looking at his two friends.
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"How much," he asked finally, his voice strained and odd,
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"How much do you hate her? I mean really. How much do you want to
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see her suffer?"
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"Hey man," Neil answered uneasily, "I just want to get back
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at her for putting me down last year. I don't want to, like, beat
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her up or anything."
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"Well, I would," Sharon spat out. "I hate the bitch. Always
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flaunting herself, and prancing about like she owns the whole
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fucking school. She deserves whatever she gets. I'll do whatever
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you want to help get her."
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Gary looked over a Neil, his eyebrows raised as if to ask
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'are you in?'.
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"Aw, fuck it," Neil said finally, "I hate the bitch as much
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as anybody. I'm in all the way."
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"Good," Gary nodded, "Cause when we're through with her,
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she'll be the biggest slut in the history of Greenwood High."
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*****
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The English exam was being held the following Monday, only
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five days away, so they had to move quickly. The first step was
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to get ahold of the exam questions beforehand, a proposition
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which might have proved difficult but for the advances in
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electronics technology which had culminated in the computer. Exam
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papers were commonly written out on school computers and stored
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in the school network, which allowed for "maximum flexibility
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within the school bureaucracy regarding application of
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secretarial assets". Incidentally, it also allowed someone with
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the appropriate equipment and skills to break into the system and
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download the required information without leaving any traces of
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his actions.
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Gary, something of a hacker, had broken into the system a
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number of times in the past with his home computer and modem and
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was quite familiar with both the security measures and the layout
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of information within the network. In the end, it took him all of
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about twenty minutes to download the appropriate exam paper. Neil
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and Sharon were impressed.
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"Jesus," she muttered, "I wish you'd told me about this
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before I failed my fucking history test last year."
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Gary just shook his head. "I don't think this is the kind of
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thing you want to do too often. If I go in often enough, they'll
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figure out what's going on. I was saving if for a special
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occasion." He looked up at his two friends and grinned
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maliciously. "And I think this is it."
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*****
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Frustrated, Stacy slammed the book shut. The exam was coming
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up in just a few days, and there was no way she was going to be
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ready. She had done her best to catch up on the first two months'
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work in a couple of days, but it was almost impossible for her
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even to get through the material in time for the test, much less
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actually understand it. And there was impossible for her to cheat
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on this exam the way she had in math. In that class, she had
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gotten away with writing out a number of formulas and
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applications on crib notes, but that just wouldn't work for an
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English test. There was too much material to read and assimilate,
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and without knowing exactly what material the test was going to
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focus on, she was forced to try to learn it all in just a few
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days: a daunting task at best, and almost certainly doomed to
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failure. She was going to blow the test for sure!
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Stacy slumped back in her chair and stared at her pouting
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reflection in the desk mirror. It wasn't fair. How could she be
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expected to keep up with all of this classwork while at the same
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time attend all the student council meetings as well as the swim
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club practices each morning. It was impossible. They just
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expected too much of her! She felt her large, green eyes brimming
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with tears; she wanted to be Homecoming Queen so badly, and
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now...
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She was interrupted from her self-pity by the ring of the
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phone at her bedside. Sniffling, she got up and crossed the room
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to answer it.
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"Hello?" It was Ashley, her friend from school. Careful to
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disguise her inner turmoil (Ashley, like all of the other girls
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in their particular clique, could smell weakness the way a shark
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smells blood; any hint of a problem and it would be all over the
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group by the end of the next school day, threatening Stacy's
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position), Stacy fell easily into the standard school banter of
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gossip, innuendo and casual put-downs of other students. Stacy
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was good at this, and Ashley sensed nothing out of place.
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After a while, Neil's name came up, and Stacy happily
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recounted the events of yesterday's math test. Ashley had almost
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certainly heard about it by now, but the combination of a
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first-hand account together with Stacy's particular style of
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sarcastic humour made the story well worth hearing for a second
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time. The two girls were soon laughing together at what had
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happened.
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"Well," Ashley laughed at the end of the story, "It does
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sound as if they made absolute assholes of themselves, alright.
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And that threat of summer school must have scared the shit out of
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them from what I heard."
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"What do you mean?"
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"I heard that Neil has got ahold of some of some of the exam
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papers coming up. I guess he wants to bring up his overall marks
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so Edgar can't fail him or something like that."
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Stacy felt her heart jump a beat as her breath caught in her
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chest. Neil had copies of future exams? "Where did you hear
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that?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual. Evidently she
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had succeeded, as Ashley failed to detect the change of mood.
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"Laura told me," she answered, "I think she heard it from
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Sharon, although why she was talking to that cow, I don't know.
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You remember Sharon? She was the one..." Ashley started to drone
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on about Sharon, who was definitely not a part of their exclusive
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clique, but Stacy wasn't listening. Neil had copies of some
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upcoming tests. AND HE WAS IN HER ENGLISH CLASS!
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After a while, Ashley wound down, and Stacy let the
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conversation die a natural death. While she was careful not to
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mention Neil and the exam papers again, it was never far from her
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mind. Finally, the two girls said goodbye and Stacy hung up the
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phone.
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Thoughtful, she walked back to her desk and looked the pile
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of unread English books. Cheating was a serious matter at
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Greenwood (it had taken her a long time to screw up her courage
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enough to do it during the math test), but stealing exam papers
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was something else altogether. She remembered a guy who had been
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caught with a stolen paper about four years ago, when she was in
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her first year at the high school. He had not only been expelled,
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but the school had prosecuted him for breaking and entering and
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theft (they succeeded on the first count, but failed on the
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second). It had been all over the papers in Bakersville. She
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shuddered at the thought of that happening to her, but what was
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the alternative? Besides, she thought, making up her mind, she wasn't
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going
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to get caught; she was too smart for that.
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*****
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It was all too easy! Stacy had approached him the next day - just
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as Gary had
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predicted - and, in the guise of sympathizing with him over his
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humiliation in Edgar's math class a couple of days ago, she had
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sounded him out about the papers for the upcoming exams. As Gary
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had instructed him, Neil pretended to be suffering from a bad
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cold and sore throat, and lowered his voice to a rasp. Stacy
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didn't seem notice; either she didn't care, or couldn't remember
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what he normally sounded like. Probably both.
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Enjoying the experience of Stacy being friendly to him
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(although aware that Stacy had skilfully manipulated the
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circumstances of their "accidental" meeting in such a way as to
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locate it in the Study Hall, which was usually deserted), Neil
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drew the encounter out, repeatedly side-stepping her indirect
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attempts to get him to admit to having the papers.
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Finally, she was forced to ask him directly: did he have
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copies of the upcoming exam papers? Seemingly reluctant, Neil
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eventually admitted that "yes" he happened to have some copies of
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future exam papers, and "yes", in particular, he did have copy of
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next week's English exam. "Why do you want to know?" Stacy looked
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down and flushed. When she looked like that,
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Neil was almost willing to feel sorry for her. Almost. All he had
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to do to push back any feelings of affection was remember the
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bitchy way in she had rejected him last year and then gotten him
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beaten up. He knew what she was like.
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"I want a copy of that exam," she admitted finally, "I need
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it for this weekend."
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Neil pretended to be shocked. "Stacy, you mean you want a
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copy of a stolen exam paper so you can cheat on next Monday's
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English test?"
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Stacy swallowed back an angry retort. Couldn't he be a
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little more subtle? Idiot! Still, there wasn't much she could do
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about it. "Yes," she admitted, "I need it to pass the exam."
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Neil just stared at her, not saying anything. "I'll pay money,"
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she added, "How about $100?"
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Still nothing. She was almost frantic.
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"Please?"
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"Alright," Neil relented, as if making up his mind, "I'll
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sell you the stolen exam paper for $100." Stacy almost collapsed
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with relief. Everything was going to work out!
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"Will that be all, Stacy, or do you want any more exams? I
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can probably get whatever you want."
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Stacy looked up, excited. This would solve all of her
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problems with the schoolwork. "That sounds great," she told him
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enthusiastically, "I'll buy whatever you can get for the classes
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I'm in. $100 a paper."
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"It's a deal." Neil could barely repress a grin of triumph.
|
|
They had her! Now, only one more thing... "Meet me tomorrow after
|
|
school in the woodworking shop. It should be deserted on Friday
|
|
afternoon."
|
|
"Fine," Stacy agreed, "I'll be there." She turned to go.
|
|
"Don't forget the money," he reminded her, but by then she
|
|
was gone.
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
"Remember," Gary repeated for what seemed like the hundredth
|
|
time, "keep your back to the wall and face slightly away from the
|
|
closet. Make sure that Stacy is always facing you so that we get
|
|
a good angle from where Sharon will be filming." Gary and Sharon
|
|
had cleared out one of the storage closets in the workshop, and
|
|
Sharon was set up inside with her video camera filming through a
|
|
knot-hole. Gary was set up with a still camera in the upper
|
|
storage area across the room. In order to cover the noise of the
|
|
camera, he had turned on the rotation fans which were fastened
|
|
from the ceiling; the resulting hum was more than sufficient to
|
|
mask any noise he might make. Satisfied at last that everything was in
|
|
order and Neil knew
|
|
what to do, Gary climbed the short ladder to the storage area and
|
|
concealed himself behind a stack of wood. Neil watched him
|
|
disappear from view. After a quick glance to make certain the
|
|
closet door was properly closed, he sat back in a chair and
|
|
waited for Stacy.
|
|
Stacy arrived ten minutes late, looking a little uncertain,
|
|
but determined to carry through. She crossed the room as Neil
|
|
watched in appreciation. She was wearing tight jeans and a white
|
|
blouse which left her tanned arms bear past the shoulder.
|
|
Bakersville was having an unusually long Indian Summer, and her
|
|
clothing reflected the fact of this unseasonable warmth. Neil got
|
|
hard imagining what lay beneath the blouse. Soon, he told himself
|
|
as Stacy approached him, soon he wouldn't have to imagine. He
|
|
stood up as she approached.
|
|
"Well," she asked as she got to where he was standing, "Do
|
|
you have it?" She was more her usual bitchy self today, now that
|
|
she was getting what she wanted.
|
|
Perfect, Neil noted silently. She's standing exactly where
|
|
Gary wanted her to stand. "I've got it," he told her in the same
|
|
gruff voice he had used the day before, "One stolen English exam
|
|
paper for Stacy Richards." He held up the computer printout. "And
|
|
my money?"
|
|
Stacy reached into her pocket and pulled out the cash.
|
|
Silently, she handed it over to him. Just to make her angry, he
|
|
slowly and noisily counted the money, making a production of it.
|
|
"It's all there," she said angrily, "You don't have to worry
|
|
about that; now or in the future."
|
|
"Fine," he answered, handing over the exam questions, "It's
|
|
all yours."
|
|
In a hurry to leave, Stacy snatched the paper and quickly
|
|
scanned the contents. As promised, the paper contained the four
|
|
questions which would form the basis of next Monday's English
|
|
class examination.
|
|
"Thanks," she said shortly, all business, and turned to walk
|
|
away.
|
|
"Good luck with the test," he called after her, but she
|
|
ignored him and left the room.
|
|
The room fell silent for a few second, and then Gary popped
|
|
up from behind the wood. "Looked good from here," he announced,
|
|
"I think I got some good shots." He began climbing down the
|
|
ladder as Neil walked over to the cupboard where Sharon was
|
|
hiding. He opened the door and helped her out from behind the
|
|
camera tripod.
|
|
"That was great," she chortled, "I got everything."
|
|
Neil reached into his jacket and pulled out the small
|
|
radio-microphone. He handed it over to Sharon who clipped it back
|
|
onto the video camera.
|
|
"Well guys," Gary stated, "A little bit of editing, and I
|
|
think we have her."
|
|
Neil began to get hard again, just thinking about what that
|
|
meant...
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
They waited almost two weeks before lowering the boom. By
|
|
that time, the English exam had come and gone, and Miss Frankel
|
|
had read out the marks in class. Stacy had received the highest
|
|
mark ever given out in Miss Frankel's English class, a fact
|
|
commented upon several times by the impressed teacher. Neil, on
|
|
the other hand, had barely passed. When his mark was announced,
|
|
Stacy gave him a startled glance, but then quickly looked away.
|
|
If he was so stupid that he could barely pass with advance notice
|
|
of the questions, that was his problem. By that time, Gary and Sharon
|
|
had suitably edited the video
|
|
and audio evidence, and Gary had developed a large number of
|
|
prints from his still pictures of the event. Gary still hoped
|
|
that the audio tape would be enough on its own (he didn't want
|
|
Stacy to realise the extent of the plot against her), but if not,
|
|
the additional evidence was very convincing. Everything had
|
|
turned out perfect: Stacy's actions and words were crystal clear,
|
|
while Neil was unrecognizable. Between his disguised voice and
|
|
positioning during the filming, there was no way to prove the
|
|
identity of the person from whom Stacy bought the stolen exam
|
|
paper. Gary thought that this, along with the fact that Stacy had
|
|
done so well and Neil so poorly on the test, should serve to
|
|
protect Neil from expulsion if they were forced to use the
|
|
evidence. As well, Gary and Sharon were willing to give Neil an
|
|
alibi. At best, it would be Stacy's word against their's, and, if
|
|
it came to that, Stacy's word would not be worth much by then.
|
|
So, it seemed that everything was in order. All that
|
|
remained was to determine the method of delivery...
|
|
|
|
The small package arrived in the mail at the Richard
|
|
household on the Friday almost two weeks after the English exam.
|
|
It was addressed to Stacy. When it was opened, a cassette tape
|
|
fell out along with a small piece of note paper. She picked it up
|
|
and read it: 'SAT. MORNING: 10:00 AM STEWART PARK FOUNTAIN. It
|
|
was written in clumsy block letters. Puzzled, she took the tape up to
|
|
her room, slipped it into
|
|
her walkman, put on the head-phones and hit the play button.
|
|
Almost at once, her head was filled with the sound of her own
|
|
voice: "I heard you have a copy of next week's English exam. Is
|
|
that true?" "Why do you want to know?" That was Neil! What was going on
|
|
here? There was a brief hissing, then the tape continued,
|
|
relentlessly. Stacy listened in panicked disbelief.
|
|
"I want a copy of that exam. I need it for this weekend."
|
|
"Stacy, you mean you want a copy of a stolen exam paper so
|
|
you can cheat on next Monday's English test." "Yes. I need it to pass
|
|
the exam... I'll pay money. How
|
|
about $100? Please?"
|
|
"Alright, I'll sell you the stolen exam paper for $100. Will
|
|
that be all, Stacy, or do you want any more exams? I can probably
|
|
get whatever you want."
|
|
"That sounds great. I'll buy whatever you can get for the
|
|
classes I'm in. $100 a paper."
|
|
"It's a deal. Meet me tomorrow after school in the
|
|
woodworking shop. It should be deserted on Friday afternoon...
|
|
Don't forget the money."
|
|
The hissing stopped for a second as the tape fell silent,
|
|
but before Stacy hit the stop button, it started up again, this
|
|
time with a small humming sound in the background. The fans,
|
|
Stacy realised, fighting down panic, the fans in the woodworking
|
|
shop. Trembling, she listened as the voices began once again:
|
|
"Well," her voice again, "Do you have it?"
|
|
"I've got it. One stolen English exam paper for Stacy
|
|
Richards. And my money?"
|
|
There was a brief moment of silence, and they the sound of
|
|
paper being crinkled. "It's all there; you don't have to worry about
|
|
that... now
|
|
or in the future."
|
|
"Fine, It's all yours."
|
|
"Thanks."
|
|
The voices fell silent, and she heard a door slam: the shop
|
|
door slamming when she left the room. The hiss slowly faded as
|
|
the recording came to halt.
|
|
Hands trembling, she pulled the ear-phones off her head and
|
|
sat still in stunned disbelief. This couldn't be happening to
|
|
her! Her eyes brimmed over with tears as she picked up the note
|
|
and re-read it. The writing blurred through the tears as she
|
|
realised that she had no choice: she would have to go to the
|
|
meeting tomorrow and see what he wanted.
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
From: an31072@anon.penet.fi
|
|
Date: Sat, 21 Aug 1993 07:07:40 UTC
|
|
Subject: STORY: Stacy02
|
|
|
|
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
|
|
(PART TWO)
|
|
By Parker
|
|
|
|
WARNING: This story contains blackmail, non-consensual sex,
|
|
D&S, humiliation and all that sort of good stuff (although,
|
|
not necessarily in every instalment). This story is not
|
|
politically correct! If you do not like to read (ie.
|
|
fantasize) about this sort of thing, STOP NOW (before it is
|
|
too late). You have been warned.
|
|
- This is the SECOND PART of a ten part series (thus, the
|
|
"02" in the title; it would be better to read Part One
|
|
first. Copyright 1993
|
|
Feel free to spread it around,
|
|
but use some common sense.
|
|
|
|
*******************************************************************
|
|
|
|
Neil checked his watch for the tenth time in as many
|
|
minutes: still five minutes to go before the 10:00 meeting with
|
|
Stacy. He paced back and forth on the path before the fountain,
|
|
pausing only to push back his stringy, brown hair and survey the
|
|
surrounding area for any sign of her approach. The park was
|
|
empty, however, with the exception of a few joggers and the odd
|
|
person out walking their dog. (At least, Neil thought they were
|
|
odd; he hated dogs.) The area around the fountain was pretty much
|
|
deserted, which made it perfect for the upcoming meeting. If, of
|
|
course, that meeting ever took place. Despite Gary's repeated
|
|
assurances, Neil was still not certain that Stacy would show up.
|
|
He half-expected to see a police car pull into the parking lot or
|
|
something like that. Gary, however, had been sure of their plan.
|
|
He argued that for someone like Stacy, social standing and
|
|
reputation were all; she wouldn't put either at risk by taking
|
|
any chances that the evidence of her cheating would get out.
|
|
Sharon had agreed with him, but Neil was not so sure; it wasn't
|
|
Sharon's or Gary's ass on the line out here in the park. Still,
|
|
he thought, it was worth a try, particularly considering the
|
|
potential prize at the end of the day! He checked his watch
|
|
again: still a few minutes to go. Neil looked up and scanned the
|
|
park - if she didn't appear soon...
|
|
There she was: large as life and twice as beautiful! Stacy
|
|
was approaching slowly along the jogging path which led into the
|
|
park from the beach; she must have parked her car in the beach
|
|
parking lot, where it was much less likely to be seen. That made
|
|
sense. As far as Neil could tell, she was alone, which eased his
|
|
anxiety considerably. Maybe this would work after all. He stopped
|
|
pacing and watched as she walked towards him.
|
|
As she drew closer, he saw that her eyes were red and puffy,
|
|
as though she had been recently crying, or hadn't slept much.
|
|
Maybe both. She looked scared. If anything, though, Neil thought
|
|
it made her even more gorgeous. This is really going to work,
|
|
Neil thought to himself, his heart picking up speed.
|
|
Finally, she reached the circular path before the fountain
|
|
and, after hesitating briefly, she walked up to him.
|
|
"Stacy," he greeted her...
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
Stacy had indeed spent an almost sleepless night, tossing
|
|
and turning in anticipation of what would happen the next
|
|
morning. When she finally did get up, she was almost exhausted
|
|
with apprehension. All she could think about was what had
|
|
happened to the last person who had been caught with a stolen
|
|
exam paper. The expulsion from school... the criminal charges...
|
|
the public exposure! That was the worst. The thought of the
|
|
humiliation made her tremble as she quickly got ready to leave
|
|
for her encounter with the person who sent the note. A brief
|
|
excuse to her parents at breakfast, and she was out the door and
|
|
on her way.
|
|
Stacy was not surprised to see Neil standing at the fountain
|
|
as she entered the park. The blonde teenager had quickly realized
|
|
last night that the note must have come from him. He was the only
|
|
person who knew about her cheating, and he was the only person
|
|
who could have taped their meeting. The question was: what did he
|
|
want from her to keep quiet about it? The answer, unfortunately, was not
|
|
difficult to figure out. She could see the way he watched
|
|
her as she approached the fountain. The way his eyes played over
|
|
the curves on her body, undressing her. Stacy shuddered. She did
|
|
not find him attractive - he was tall and painfully thin, with
|
|
long greasy hair and an unpleasant complexion - but had made up
|
|
her mind the previous night that she would do anything - almost
|
|
anything - to get the tape back, including sleeping with him.
|
|
Anything to keep him quiet. She was afraid, however, that this
|
|
was exactly what she was going to have to do.
|
|
"Stacy," he greeted her as she approached. He was smirking.
|
|
"I thought it would be you," she spat out, unable to hide
|
|
the anger and hatred in her voice. "What do you want?"
|
|
"Why, Stacy," he feigned surprise and hurt, "is that any way
|
|
to greet your partner in crime? You seemed happy enough to see me
|
|
a couple of weeks ago... when you needed the exam paper." The
|
|
tall teenager sat himself down on a bench and patted the space
|
|
next to him, gesturing for her to take a seat next to him. "Fuck you,"
|
|
she blurted out. "I want that tape." She
|
|
couldn't believe he had the nerve to treat her like this. She
|
|
fought down the urge to slap that obnoxious smirk off his ugly
|
|
face; there was time for that later.
|
|
Neil just smiled slightly and again patted the place next to
|
|
him on the bench. "I don't think that that's a very helpful
|
|
attitude," he said mildly. "Why don't you just sit yourself down
|
|
right here, and we'll have a little chat about it." She just stared at
|
|
him angrily. "After all," he continued, "it wouldn't do to be seen
|
|
arguing in public. Someone might ask why."
|
|
Torn between anger and fear, Stacy hesitated for a few
|
|
moments more, but finally gave in and sat down beside him. She
|
|
tensed up as he put his right arm around her shoulder, but didn't
|
|
pull away. She hoped no one could see them together; it would be
|
|
impossible to explain this to her friends at school.
|
|
"That's better," he said smoothly. "Now we can talk."
|
|
She turned slightly towards him, ignoring the condescending
|
|
tone of his voice. Anger had won out over the fear, if only
|
|
briefly. "You know what I want, you fucker. You tricked me. I
|
|
want that tape back, and I want you to shut your fucking mouth
|
|
about the whole thing, you asshole..." She was stunned into a shocked
|
|
silence as he brought his
|
|
left hand around and slapped her across the face. It wasn't
|
|
particularly hard, but it was surprising and humiliating. She
|
|
brought her hand up to her stinging cheek and started to pull
|
|
away, but Neil held her close. Tears welled up in her eyes.
|
|
"First thing, Stace," he told her quietly. "Don't swear at
|
|
me, or even in my presence. It makes you sound cheap. Do you
|
|
understand?"
|
|
Dumbly, she nodded her head as the tears began to flow down
|
|
her cheeks. The humiliation at being talked to like this was even
|
|
worse than being slapped. What was he doing to her?
|
|
When he saw her nod, he relaxed his hold, but still kept his
|
|
arm around her. The cheek he had slapped was starting to turn
|
|
red, so he leaned forward and kissed it. Stacy tensed and started
|
|
to tremble, but she didn't pull away. "There, there," he said
|
|
soothingly, as he brought his hand up to wipe the tears off her
|
|
cheeks, "Is that better?"
|
|
Trembling, she nodded.
|
|
"Fine," Neil leaned back on the bench. "Now we can talk. As
|
|
you know, I have evidence that could fuck you up at Greenwood. I
|
|
don't want to use it like that, but I will if I have to."
|
|
"If you give out that tape," she argued, regaining some
|
|
control (but still not pulling away from his encircling arm),
|
|
"you'll be expelled too. I'll let everyone know who sold me the
|
|
exam. We'd go down together." She had thought of that argument
|
|
last night, while tossing and turning in bed.
|
|
Neil just shrugged. "You can try," he answered. "But I don't
|
|
know if anyone will believe you. My voice can't be recognised on
|
|
the tape and I have friends who will be willing to swear that I
|
|
was somewhere else that Friday. Besides, I almost failed the
|
|
test; who'll believe I had the questions ahead of time?" He fell
|
|
silent for a moment and looked at her. "And even if I do get
|
|
expelled, it's no big deal; people expect it of me. It's your
|
|
reputation that matters."
|
|
He was right. Stacy began to cry again, and was forced to
|
|
suffer the humiliation of Neil again brushing the tears from her
|
|
cheeks. "S-so, what do you want, then?" She was defeated. She
|
|
would give him what he wanted.
|
|
"You," came the expected answer. "For just one night.
|
|
Tomorrow night. I want you to make love with me and act as though
|
|
you like it. After, I'll give you the only copy I have of the
|
|
tape."
|
|
Stacy began to tremble again as he said this, but she was
|
|
not particularly shocked. Here, she was on familiar ground; most
|
|
of the boys at school wanted the same thing of her, and she was
|
|
used to dealing with their desires. As well, she had expected
|
|
something like this, and it could have been a hell of a lot
|
|
worse. She didn't find Neil attractive, and almost gagged at the
|
|
thought of having sex with him, but she was certainly not a
|
|
virgin. And one night wasn't forever. It would be unpleasant, but
|
|
it would be over with quickly, and she would never have to talk
|
|
to him again. And, once she had the tape... Stacy was careful, however,
|
|
not to let her thoughts show.
|
|
No need to let this asshole know that she was not as scared as
|
|
she seemed. "And you'll give me the tape?" she asked quietly.
|
|
"Sure."
|
|
"How do I know that you won't keep a copy of it and
|
|
blackmail me again?"
|
|
"You don't," came the simple answer. "But I swear on my
|
|
mother's grave that I will not use the tape to blackmail you
|
|
again." She looked doubtful, but he just shrugged. "That's the
|
|
best I can do."
|
|
"Just one night?" Neil nodded.
|
|
"And it'll be a secret, right? You won't tell anybody?" This
|
|
was crucial. If anyone ever found out that she had slept with
|
|
Neil French, whatever the reason, she would be ruined at school.
|
|
It would be even worse than being caught cheating.
|
|
Once again, Neil nodded. "No one will have to know," he told
|
|
her.
|
|
Stacy fell silent for a few moments and then nodded her
|
|
agreement. She had stopped trembling and seemed thoughtful. "OK,"
|
|
she agreed, finally, "I'll do it. Just one night. And no one
|
|
knows."
|
|
"Right." Neil could barely keep himself from laughing out
|
|
loud. If only she knew what they had planned for her! "Show up at
|
|
my place tomorrow night at 7:00. Can you find it?"
|
|
"I have a student directory," she answered, "I'll find it."
|
|
She pulled away to get up and leave, but Neil held her close.
|
|
"Don't I get a goodbye kiss?" he asked her. "To keep me
|
|
until tomorrow?"
|
|
Fighting down an urge to vomit, she allowed herself to be
|
|
pulled toward him and pressed her lips to his. Her hands hanging
|
|
limply at her side, she tried to keep her mouth shut, but his
|
|
tongue was insistent, and was soon exploring the inside of her
|
|
unwilling mouth. His breath smelled like smoke and she almost
|
|
gagged. "Just one night," she told herself, as he drew the kiss out
|
|
until it was more like necking than a single kiss.
|
|
Finally, he released her. Gasping, she staggered to her feet
|
|
and hurried off.
|
|
"Until tomorrow then," he called after her.
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
Sharon squeezed herself into the back of closet, trying as
|
|
best she could to make herself comfortable in the pile of
|
|
clothing Neil had laid out for her. From where she sat, she had
|
|
an unobstructed 3/4 view from the head of Neil's bed. She peered
|
|
through the viewfinder of her father's video camera. "Looks
|
|
good," she reported to Gary, as he watched from where he sat on
|
|
the side of the bed. "As long as the lights stay on, I should
|
|
have no trouble with the filming. It's kind of tight in here,
|
|
though."
|
|
Gary smirked at her. "You should be getting used to it by
|
|
now," he joked. "That cupboard a couple of weeks ago was no
|
|
bigger."
|
|
Sharon laughed in agreement. What with the filming in the
|
|
Woodwork Shop, and now in Neil's bedroom, she was becoming
|
|
something of an expert in this sort of thing. Perhaps, she
|
|
reflected, she should look into becoming a private detective.
|
|
There must be a lot of money in doing this sort of thing for
|
|
divorce cases in the like. The 17 year-old girl settled back against the
|
|
closet wall as
|
|
her friend and sometime boyfriend adjusted the tripod and camera
|
|
in front of her to give her a little more room. She was looking
|
|
forward to the upcoming events, although she still found it hard
|
|
to believe that Stacy would show up and go through with it.
|
|
Imagine... the Ice Queen agreeing to fuck Neil! (Imagine anyone
|
|
agreeing to fuck Neil.) And she was there to get it all on tape!
|
|
Between the camera she was running, and the second video camera
|
|
set up on the bookshelf beside Neil's bed, they should be able to
|
|
catch the whole event for posterity. And after that, Gary had
|
|
plans for Stacy that made Sharon wet and shivery just thinking
|
|
about them. She hated Stacy, and all of the stuck up cunts like
|
|
her at school. The chance to fuck one of them over was
|
|
irresistible for her. "You OK?" Gary broke into her thoughts. The camera
|
|
was set
|
|
up in front of her, and everything was ready.
|
|
"Gimmie a kiss," she ordered, reaching up. Gary leaned over
|
|
and kissed her fully on the mouth, his tongue playing with hers.
|
|
She could tell that he was as excited about what was going to
|
|
happen as she was, despite his calm manner. Maybe they had time
|
|
to...
|
|
"Hey hey," Neil called out jokingly, entering the bedroom.
|
|
"This is supposed to be my night. Knock it off." Reluctantly,
|
|
Sharon let go of Gary and settled back down into her position in
|
|
the closet. Trust Neil to show up at the wrong time. Gary smiled
|
|
at her and shrugged his shoulders. "Later," he whispered.
|
|
Sharon shivered as he partially closed the closet door,
|
|
leaving it open just a crack. "Shit," she muttered to herself,
|
|
trying to get comfortable. A few moments later, she was wishing
|
|
that she had a cigarette.
|
|
|
|
Stacy preceded Neil into his bedroom and stood there while
|
|
he closed the door behind him. She was wearing blue jeans and a
|
|
yellow tee-shirt, and had her blonde hair pulled up into a simple
|
|
ponytail. "Like it?" Neil asked, gesturing vaguely towards the room.
|
|
Stacy looked around. It was a small, basement bedroom,
|
|
surprisingly bright considering the fact that there was only one,
|
|
small window. The light, however, did the room no favours. It
|
|
merely exposed the battered '70s-style wood panelling that
|
|
covered the walls. That, along with the worn shag carpet gave the
|
|
room a slightly sleazy look to it. More or less what Stacy would
|
|
have expected. Besides the bed - a single bed, she noticed -
|
|
which sat in the corner of the room next to the closet, the only
|
|
furniture in the room was a battered couch and coffee table set
|
|
up under the window. The table was covered with comics and
|
|
magazines, as were the bookshelves which lines the wall over the
|
|
bed. "Nice," she said sarcastically. "I can see you've done a lot
|
|
with it." Before coming, she had decided to be as pliant as she
|
|
could be, to go along with everything as quickly as possible, but
|
|
now that she was here, she was unable to conceal her contempt and
|
|
anger.
|
|
Neil did not react to her sarcasm. "Like a drink?" he asked,
|
|
pulling out a bottle from under the coffee table. "Whiskey. I'm
|
|
having one."
|
|
The last thing Stacy wanted to do was hang around for a
|
|
casual drink, but as long as he was going to have one, she
|
|
figured she may as well have a drink as well. It might even make
|
|
things a little easier. "Yeah, fine," she answered. "With water."
|
|
Gingerly, she sat down on the edge of the couch, careful to avoid
|
|
the magazines and - she now saw - cigarette ashes which were
|
|
spread out on the cushion. Neil disappeared into the adjoining
|
|
bathroom and mixed the drinks. She heard the water running for a
|
|
moment, and then he returned with two glasses. He handed one to
|
|
her and then raised his drink in salute: "To us," he stated.
|
|
Stacy just stared at him for a moment. Fuck you, she
|
|
thought. "To us," she echoed unwillingly, raising her own glass.
|
|
After this is over, she told herself, taking a sip of the drink,
|
|
I'm going to have to get this asshole taken care of. She knew a
|
|
few guys on the football team who...
|
|
"So," Neil interrupted her thoughts, sitting down next to
|
|
her on the couch, "did you have a nice weekend?"
|
|
Oh fine, she thought, small talk. Asshole. "Just great," she
|
|
answered sarcastically. "How about you?"
|
|
"I've been horny all weekend," he told her, "thinking of
|
|
you."
|
|
His directness and unapologetic crudity shook her, reminding
|
|
her of her situation, and why she was here. Best to get it over
|
|
with as soon as possible. Deliberately, she drained the glass in
|
|
one gulp and slammed it down on the coffee table. "Stop fucking
|
|
around. Let's get on with it."
|
|
Neil, however, was in no hurry. He took a casual sip of his
|
|
drink and smiled at her. "Get on with what?"
|
|
"You know." She gestured vaguely with her hand. "...It."
|
|
"It?"
|
|
"Sex," she blurted out. Just how stupid was he? "That's what
|
|
you want, isn't it? That's why I'm here, isn't it?" She flushed
|
|
and looked down. He wasn't making this easy on her.
|
|
Neil suddenly reached over and grabbed her face, turning it
|
|
towards him so he could look straight into her large green eyes.
|
|
"No," he told her. "I don't just want 'sex'." He mimicked the way
|
|
she had reluctantly said the word. "I want to fuck you." He made
|
|
a point of emphasising the crudity. "We're going to fuck. Ball.
|
|
Screw. Get it on." He got up and walked to the bed, pulling his
|
|
shirt over his head; the complexion of his back matched that of
|
|
his face. "But first," he said, carelessly throwing the shirt
|
|
onto the floor beside the bed, "you're going to have to ask."
|
|
"Ask?" Stacy's head swam in disbelief. She felt a little
|
|
dizzy, probably from the drink. "Ask?"
|
|
Neil lay down on the bed, put his hands behind his head and
|
|
grinned over at her. "You're going to ask me to fuck you," he
|
|
told her. "And then, if you ask nicely, I'll do it."
|
|
"You're out of your mind!" Stacy tried to get up from the
|
|
couch, but stumbled against the coffee table and sprawled back
|
|
onto her ass, knocking over a pile of magazines. "I'm not going
|
|
to ask you..."
|
|
"Alright," Neil interrupted her. "Then go." He pointed
|
|
towards the door. "But by the end of the school day tomorrow,
|
|
that tape will be in Dr. Grossmann's office." (Dr. Grossmann
|
|
was the school principal.)
|
|
Stacy lurched back to her feet, carefully this time, her
|
|
head spinning. "B-but..."
|
|
"Well?" Neil was relentless. "What's it going to be?"
|
|
Stacy grasped at a straw. "But you said yesterday that I
|
|
wasn't supposed to swear around you," she begged. "You said it
|
|
made me sound cheap." She was more than a little humiliated at
|
|
having to make this argument, but it was all she had. Surely he
|
|
wasn't going to force her to...
|
|
"That was in yesterday," he told her, smirking. "Now, I want
|
|
you to sound cheap; you are cheap."
|
|
"You bastard!" The tears were starting to flow down her
|
|
face. "You bastard." "It's your choice," he told her. "Take it or leave
|
|
it.
|
|
Either you ask me real nice to fuck you, or you get the hell out
|
|
of here. What's it gonna be?"
|
|
|
|
Gary watched intently from his position in the yard outside
|
|
the window. From where he sat, peering through a small opening in
|
|
the blinds, he could see everything that was happening, but was
|
|
unable to hear what was being said. Silently, he cursed himself
|
|
for not opening the window a crack, but it was too late for that.
|
|
Hopefully, Neil wasn't fucking up. Still, he would hear it all
|
|
later from the video tape. He hoped Sharon was ready.
|
|
Inside, it looked as if things were shaping up nicely
|
|
despite his worrying. Neil had got Stacy to take the drink which
|
|
Gary had specially prepared for her. Beside the alcohol content,
|
|
he had mixed in a small amount of a depressant - to lower her
|
|
inhibitions and a stimulant - to keep her awake and heighten her
|
|
senses. Between the two drugs, he hoped the mixture would have
|
|
the desired effect. From the look of things inside the bedroom, it was.
|
|
Stacy
|
|
seemed confused and frightened. She had staggered to her feet and
|
|
moved towards the door as Neil had said something to her, but she
|
|
didn't leave - as Gary had known (hoped) she wouldn't - and had
|
|
turned back around to face Neil on the bed. Gary looked down to
|
|
make certain everything was ready with his camera. There should
|
|
be some interesting shots coming up...
|
|
|
|
Stacy looked over at Neil, lying smug on the bed. She was
|
|
paralysed with indecision and disbelief. This couldn't be
|
|
happening to her; it couldn't! Her head swam. He couldn't be
|
|
expecting her to...
|
|
"One more chance, Stace," he called over to her. "Ask or
|
|
leave."
|
|
Stacy turned away from his leering face and leaned against
|
|
the bedroom door, trying to gather her thoughts. She was still
|
|
dizzy, though, and it was hard to think. Ask or leave... ask or
|
|
leave... What could she do?! Eventually, however, she came to the
|
|
only decision she could; there was no way she could let him
|
|
release that tape. OK you bastard she thought, drawing a deep,
|
|
shuddering
|
|
breath, I'll give you what you want and more. She spun around to
|
|
face him again.
|
|
"Neil," she asked, her voice quivering slightly, "I... I
|
|
want to fuck you." She couldn't believe the sound of those words
|
|
coming out of her mouth. Was that really her talking? It didn't
|
|
sound like her. She was beginning to feel strangely detached.
|
|
"What was that?" Neil asked, cupping his ear. "I didn't
|
|
catch what you said."
|
|
Hands clenched into helpless fists, she repeated the hated
|
|
words, a little louder this time: "I want to fuck you. Please let
|
|
me fuck you."
|
|
"You don't sound as if you mean it." Neil pretended to be
|
|
hurt, drawing the humiliation out a little longer.
|
|
OK, Stacy told herself, trying to remain calm, just give him
|
|
what he wants. Do what he wants, get the tape and get out of
|
|
here. "Please," she repeated, this time pleading in an
|
|
exaggerated manner, "Please let me fuck you. I want to fuck you."
|
|
To her shock and anger, Neil just shrugged his shoulders
|
|
dismissively. "I dunno," he answered. "Maybe I don't want to."
|
|
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he planning to release the
|
|
tape after all? "Please," she pleaded - this time for real.
|
|
"Please let me fuck you. I want to... I really do. I'm sorry I
|
|
was mean to you before. Please let me fuck you?" She looked up at
|
|
him, imploring.
|
|
Neil seemed to reach a decision. "Let's see what you've
|
|
got," he told her. "Take your clothes off. If I like what I see,
|
|
maybe I'll let you do it."
|
|
Stacy, now numb from shock and still dizzy from the drink,
|
|
reached down and slowly began to take off her tee-shirt. She had
|
|
gone so far now, she might as well see things through to the
|
|
finish. Her hands shook as she slowly pulled the shirt up over...
|
|
"Not like that," Neil leered at her. "Do it sexy - like a
|
|
strip-tease. And ditch the pony tail."
|
|
Swallowing, Stacy complied, pulling the tie from her hair
|
|
and shaking it out. With her wavy blonde hair hanging free, she
|
|
began to undress in as sexy a manner as she could manage. Trying
|
|
to smile in a seductive way, she slid the tee-shirt up over her
|
|
head and twirled it into a corner of the room, exposing her bra.
|
|
Neil grinned in appreciation. Stacy's tits weren't particularly
|
|
large, but they were very firm and well-formed. Next, to his
|
|
delight, she began to fondle her breasts through the bra, still
|
|
looking at him seductively. After doing this for a few seconds,
|
|
she unclipped the bra, and pulled it slowly off. Her breasts
|
|
jutted proudly, nipples erect. Stacy felt a moment of shame at
|
|
this, but she was careful not to show it. She was too far along
|
|
to think of pulling out now. Suggestively, she ran her hands down
|
|
her chest, across her naked breasts and along her flat stomach to
|
|
the waistband of her jeans. Hesitating only slightly, she undid
|
|
the button and allowed the jeans to slide down her long,
|
|
athlete's legs to the floor. She wore simple, white panties.
|
|
Stacy stepped out of the jeans and towards Neil. Time to get this
|
|
over with.
|
|
Neil, however gestured towards the panties and shook his
|
|
head. Her theatrically seductive smile wavered a bit at this, but
|
|
she took it in stride. After all, how much worse could it get?
|
|
Bending over, Stacy slid the panties down her legs, completely
|
|
exposing her crotch to his Neil's view. Now naked except for her
|
|
socks, she straightened up and looked at him. What now?
|
|
"Ask." Neil mouthed the word at her.
|
|
In as seductive a voice as she could manage, Stacy did as
|
|
she was told. "Please," she begged, her voice a throaty whisper,
|
|
"Please fuck me. I need it so bad... please fuck me." While she
|
|
begged, she ran her hands over her hardened nipples, almost
|
|
causing Neil to ejaculate right then and there. Was this Stacy
|
|
Richards standing in front of him? "Please," she pleaded. "I want
|
|
it now..."
|
|
Unable to wait any longer, Neil swung his legs around onto
|
|
the floor and sat up at the side of his bed. "Come here, bitch,"
|
|
he growled, his voice hoarse with lust.
|
|
Dizzy from the mixture of drugs she had been served in the
|
|
drink and almost numb from shock, Stacy obeyed. She felt
|
|
detached, as if her body was acting on automatic while she - the
|
|
real Stacy Richards - watched from a distance. Breathing quickly,
|
|
she hurried forward, her tits bouncing as she moved. She kneeled
|
|
in front of him as he gestured for her to do so.
|
|
"Do you want it?" he asked her gruffly.
|
|
Stacy looked up at him with her large green eyes, puzzled
|
|
and unable to think. Want...
|
|
"My cock, Stace. Do you want my cock?"
|
|
Stacy fought back tears. "Oh yes," she breathed. "Please,
|
|
let me have your cock." At his nod, she reached in between his legs and
|
|
fumbled with
|
|
the zipper. A few seconds later, his cock popped out onto her
|
|
grasping fingers. It was already extremely hard, and - Stacy
|
|
noted with loathing - glistening wetly. What now?
|
|
"Kiss it," he ordered, answering her unspoken question.
|
|
"Give it some tongue."
|
|
Gagging, Stacy moved her face forward, grasped the penis
|
|
and, rubbing it gently with her fingers, she began to kiss and
|
|
lick it. She had done this a couple of time before with a
|
|
previous boyfriend. She didn't like it, but was able to keep her
|
|
revulsion under control. This activity carried on for a few
|
|
minutes before Neil reached down and began to fondle her tits. To
|
|
her embarrassment, they responded immediately, the nipples
|
|
regaining their previous hardness. Her own body was betraying
|
|
her! Her face went red with shame, but she definitely began to
|
|
feel a tingling between her legs.
|
|
"Take it in your mouth," Neil whispered at her a few moments
|
|
later, pushing her hair away from her face. His breath was short.
|
|
Reluctantly, she did so, sliding her warm, wet mouth over his
|
|
now-sticky cock and sucking gently. The salty taste was
|
|
unpleasant, but she could stand it as long as he wasn't planning
|
|
to come in her mouth. Surely, he wasn't...
|
|
Suddenly, he leaned back and raised his legs. Surprised, she
|
|
pulled her mouth off his cock and looked up from where she was
|
|
kneeling, her chin glistening with spittle and pre-come. She
|
|
quickly saw what he wanted, and co-operated by pulling off his
|
|
pants. He was naked underneath, and his cock stuck straight up as
|
|
he leaned back on the bed and swung his legs around so he was
|
|
again lying lengthwise. "Climb on," he ordered. Panting, and out of
|
|
breath from
|
|
giving head, Stacy scrambled onto the bed and straddled his naked
|
|
body, her knees propped up on each side of his thighs. Holding
|
|
this position, she panted and trembled, waiting for his next
|
|
order. It wasn't long in coming.
|
|
He reached forward and played with her breasts for a moment,
|
|
but then dropped his hands to her crotch, feeling her cunt lips.
|
|
Stacy's hands twitched with the urge to push his hands away, but
|
|
they remained at her sides. He smirked at her. "Wet," he
|
|
pronounced. "You're really into this." Stacy fought back tears,
|
|
and tried to maintain a seductive leer. This wasn't her kneeling
|
|
naked over Neil French; it was someone else. Neil relaxed back on
|
|
his pillow. "I like them a little wetter, though. Let's see if
|
|
you can't make yourself a little more ready."
|
|
Grasping his meaning, Stacy moved her hands back to her
|
|
crotch area and began to play with herself. Closing her eyes, she
|
|
was almost able to imagine that she was back in her own room, and
|
|
none of this was happening. She moaned involuntarily, as Neil
|
|
began to play with her breasts, kneading them roughly. Her
|
|
fingers were doing their work, though, and her crotch was soon
|
|
damp with desire.
|
|
Finally, Neil had seen enough. Pushing her hands away, he
|
|
positioned his cock directly underneath her pussy and looked up
|
|
at her expectantly. Stacy leaned forward on her hands, so that
|
|
her breasts hung directly downwards, and slowly slid Neil's cock
|
|
into her now-wet pussy. It went in easily, despite that fact that
|
|
she was very tight. Eventually, his cock was entirely swallowed
|
|
as she knelt on top of him.
|
|
"Get moving," he ordered her hoarsely.
|
|
Completely defeated, Stacy began to move up and down, riding
|
|
his cock in and out of her pussy. Despite herself, she began to
|
|
moan and pant with desire. Neil leaned up and began to bite and
|
|
lick her breasts as his hands played over her straining thighs.
|
|
Stacy gasped. It was painful, but after a while, the pain seemed
|
|
to meld into pleasure, and a warmth radiated out of her pussy to
|
|
envelope her entire body. The detached part of her mind wailed in
|
|
horror as her body abandoned itself entirely to the experience. She was
|
|
now making soft moaning sounds in time with her
|
|
rhythmic self-impalement on Neil's cock. Gradually, her moaning
|
|
became louder and louder as the pace increased and she approached
|
|
climax. Neil, beneath her, began moving his hips in time with
|
|
her, all the while mauling and biting her small, firm tits as
|
|
they dangled invitingly in front of his face.
|
|
"Oh... oh... oh... oh..." Her moans got louder and louder
|
|
until she was almost screaming. Her eyes were screwed shut and
|
|
her mouth hung open, slack with lust. "Oh... oh... OH... OH...
|
|
Ahhh..."
|
|
Finally, she came with a loud scream of pleasure, her body
|
|
shaking and trembling. That was all for Neil; he could hold back
|
|
no longer. Just as her orgasm ended, he thrust forward with his
|
|
hips, and pulled her down, crushing her mauled breasts against
|
|
his sweaty chest and forcing his tongue into her gasping mouth,
|
|
his cock pumping sperm into her warm, damp pussy. The two teenagers fell
|
|
limp, their spent, sweaty bodies
|
|
stuck together. A few seconds later, Stacy roused herself with a
|
|
groan and pushed herself off her unwanted companion. His prick
|
|
slid limply out of her pussy as she clambered off the bed,
|
|
leaving a thin trail of sperm along the inside of her thigh.
|
|
Stacy bit back a scream as she caught sight of herself in
|
|
the bathroom mirror. Her blonde hair was plastered back from her
|
|
sweaty face, leaving fully revealed her wide, frightened eyes and
|
|
nostrils which flared as she gasped for breath. Drool glistened
|
|
on her cheeks and mouth where Neil had slobbered on her when he
|
|
came. Her sleek body was covered by a fine sheen of sweat and her
|
|
tits shone red and purple where Neil had mauled and bit them.
|
|
Sperm trickled out of her sopping cunt, joining the thin, white
|
|
trail laid down on her leg by his cock when she had pulled away. A thin
|
|
wail rose from her throat as she stared at her
|
|
reflection. Both the dizziness and the lust which had possessed
|
|
her earlier had left as though burnt away by the intensity of her
|
|
orgasm, leaving her clear-headed and terrified. How had she let
|
|
this happen? Panting and choking, Stacy stumbled into the
|
|
bathroom, fell to her knees and threw up violently into the
|
|
toilet. Her retching was interrupted by the impact of clothing
|
|
being thrown into the bathroom and hitting her back.
|
|
It was Neil. "When you're done in there," he called out to
|
|
her heaving rear, "Get dressed and get out." He had pulled his
|
|
trousers on and was leaving the bedroom.
|
|
Stacy continued retching for a few moments before climbing
|
|
to her feet. Unsteadily, still coughing and gasping, she pulled
|
|
her clothes on over her sticky, abused body. Dressed, she left
|
|
the bathroom to find Neil sitting on the couch, smoking a
|
|
cigarette. He ignored her for a moment and then looked up, as if
|
|
surprised that she were still there. "Well? I thought I told you
|
|
to leave."
|
|
Stacy looked down. "T-the tape," she mumbled. "You said -
|
|
you p-promised to give it to me."
|
|
Grinning, Neil reached into a pocket and pulled out a
|
|
cassette tape. "Fair enough," he agreed, tossing it to her. She
|
|
was unprepared, and it bounced off her chest and slid under the
|
|
bed. Neil laughed as she got down on her hands and knees to
|
|
retrieve it. The tape securely in her possession, Stacy stood up and
|
|
moved towards the door, her only thought to get out of there as
|
|
soon as possible.
|
|
"Haven't you forgotten something?" She turned to face him. "What?"
|
|
The anger was back now,
|
|
making it easier to deal with his leering face.
|
|
"To say thank you," Neil told her.
|
|
"Fuck you," she muttered and stormed out of the room. Behind
|
|
her, Neil laughed.
|
|
|
|
END PART TWO
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Cheers,
|
|
--
|
|
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org
|
|
|
|
Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side? And hain't that a big
|
|
enough majority in any town? --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"
|
|
|
|
From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 03:59:16
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:02:19 +0100
|
|
Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
|
|
Subject: Repost: PARKER: Stacy's Senior Year 3/10 (mf, nc)
|
|
Message-ID: <2272375@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
|
|
Hello,
|
|
|
|
this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
|
|
requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
|
|
Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
|
|
email to you. If you want it, save it now.
|
|
|
|
MINI-FAQ:
|
|
|
|
- Please post stories only to this group. If you are fed up with other
|
|
people posting crap here, consider sending them a friendly, short message
|
|
telling them that they are breaching the charter of this group, and that
|
|
they should take their talk to another, more suitable group.
|
|
|
|
- Ignore stupid and offensive posts, ala "AOL r00lz/sucks", "<het|gay>
|
|
off this group", etc. pp. Rest assured that other people find this as
|
|
offensive as you do - no need to point it out to everybody. Chances are
|
|
that it was a troll, anyways. If you must vent some steam, send email,
|
|
post to alt.sex.stories.d, or forward the offending post to the person's
|
|
postmaster.
|
|
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
Subject: STORY: Stacy03
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From: an31072@anon.penet.fi
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Date: Sun, 22 Aug 1993 09:56:25 UTC
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STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
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(PART THREE)
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By Parker
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|
|
|
WARNING: This story contains blackmail, humiliation, D&S,
|
|
non-consensual sex and all that sort of good stuff (although
|
|
not necessarily in every instalment). This story is NOT
|
|
politically correct! If you do not like reading about (ie.
|
|
fantasizing) this sort of stuff, stop now (before it is TOO
|
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LATE). You may consider yourself warned.
|
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- This is PART THREE of a ten part series; it would be much
|
|
better to read parts one and two before reading this part.
|
|
- Please note: I will only be posting this story once. If you
|
|
miss a chapter, check a file server, or post a story request.
|
|
|
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=================================================================
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"We're going to play a game," Gary said, his voice light and
|
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mocking. He had shoved his hands into his pockets, and was
|
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staring off into space. "You can win it; it will have rules and
|
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an object. If you do win, we will give you all copies of the
|
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video tape and pictures. If you lose..."
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Stacy sat in stunned silence. The whole world - her world -
|
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had changed dramatically in the last half hour. Nothing was the
|
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same. That morning, she had woken up an intelligent, free young
|
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woman. No clouds on the horizon; nothing to foreshadow the
|
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impending danger. It had been almost a week since she had been
|
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forced to have sex with Neil, and she was finally beginning to
|
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feel clean again. She had passed all of the recent tests at
|
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school, and was still a part of the most influential, exclusive
|
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group of students at Greenwood. Moreover, Neil seemed to have
|
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kept his mouth shut, both about her cheating on the English test
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and the disgusting exercise she had been forced into at his
|
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apartment, and he was now safely relegated back to the periphery
|
|
of her privileged existence. Stacy had even shelved her plans for
|
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getting him thrashed by one of her friends on the football team.
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The whole incident was receding into the past, and she was
|
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unaffected. Still one of the best and the brightest; one of the
|
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winners.
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Then came the note in her locker. This note was handwritten,
|
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not in block letters like the previous one, as if the need for
|
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disguise no longer existed. It simply ordered her to show up at
|
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Neil's apartment at 1:00 PM the next day: Saturday, exactly a
|
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week after her last visit. Her stomach had gone cold and her hand
|
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trembled as she read the note. Was he going for a repeat
|
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performance? If he was, that little bastard...
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Just then, Ashley and some friends happened by her locker,
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and she quickly stuffed the note into her jacket pocket. It was
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not the sort of thing she wanted her friends to know about;
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particularly Ashley... She greeted them with a smile.
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"The game will last for the rest of the school year." Gary
|
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continued speaking. "If you win before the last day of classes,
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July 2, we will return all of the material to you, and never
|
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bother you again."
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Stacy heard Gary's voice speaking the words, but it was as
|
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if he was speaking at her from a long distance away. She
|
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understood him, but didn't feel any connection with what he was
|
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saying. Was he even speaking to her? She knew that what he was
|
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saying was important, but she was unable to focus on his voice.
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Her mind continued to drift...
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She had arrived that Saturday afternoon prepared for the
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worst, but what had happened turned out to be much more terrible
|
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than what she had expected; than she could have expected.
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Neil wasn't alone when she had arrived. Gary, his creepy
|
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friend, was there with him, as was Sharon, Gary's cow of a
|
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girlfriend. Gary had just looked at her as she entered Neil's
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bedroom, his eyes huge and expressionless through the thick,
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magnifying lens of his glasses. He was sitting on the couch
|
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beside Sharon, who had giggled obnoxiously when Stacy had entered
|
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the room, and flicked ashes from her cigarette onto the floor.
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The ashes sunk into the thick shag carpet and were lost from
|
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sight. The room seemed a lot darker than Stacy remembered it.
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"What's going on? Why are they here?" Stacy turned as if to
|
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leave, but Neil, behind her, had already closed the door. "What
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are you doing?" Stacy was beginning to panic. Neil didn't answer;
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he just smirked at her as he stood in front of the door.
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"We have something to show you," came a voice from behind
|
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her. It was Gary. "I think you'll find it interesting." He stood
|
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up and pointed to the space on the couch beside his chubby
|
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girlfriend. "Have a seat," he invited.
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"I don't think so," Stacy answered angrily, pulling herself
|
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together a bit. She didn't have to take this. "I'll stand, if you
|
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don't mind." Sarcasm.
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Gary just smiled at her and repeated his gesture. "I think
|
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it would be better if you sat for this," he told her, his voice
|
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mild. "Besides, the couch has the best view of the TV." Stacy
|
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noticed for the first time a TV and video machine set up opposite
|
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the couch; they hadn't been there last week. "We wouldn't want
|
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you to miss anything," Gary continued. Stacy giggled again.
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Overcome by a vague feeling of dread, Stacy was forced to
|
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fight down an impulse to flee; not that it would have done any
|
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good with Neil standing in front of the door. Sharon sat up and
|
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crushed out her half finished cigarette in the ashtray. "C'mon,
|
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babe," she called, patting the seat beside her. "I don't bite."
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Stacy had looked around at the three of them - Neil smirking
|
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by the door, Sharon leaning back on the couch with her arms
|
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stretched out, and Gary looking at her with his queer, empty eyes
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- and then began walking slowly towards the couch. She realized
|
|
that she had no choice in the matter, and there was no use in
|
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protesting further. A small part of her mind began to understand
|
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what might be on the tape, and started wailing uselessly inside
|
|
her head, but she was able to repress this as she sat back on the
|
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couch. 'Don't panic' she told herself.
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Sharon immediately slipped her pudgy arm around Stacy's
|
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shoulder and squeezed. "That's more like it," she laughed. "Just
|
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relax and enjoy the show. You're among friends." Neil chuckled as
|
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he moved away from the door. Stacy tensed - she hated this bitch
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- but did not pull away. Neil flipped off the lights as Gary
|
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moved forward to turn on the TV and start the video.
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|
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"If you lose," Gary continued, "well... I can't really say;
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we haven't thought that far ahead. I must say, though, I really
|
|
don't expect you to lose; I have every confidence that you will
|
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meet the conditions for winning."
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Somehow, the small part of Stacy's mind which was still
|
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listening to his voice was not much comforted by this expression
|
|
of confidence. Her mind continued to drift...
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The tape! That awful tape... They had made her watch the
|
|
entire thing through from beginning to end, even though she had
|
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tried to jump up out of the couch before the first thirty seconds
|
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were up. Sharon had kept her seated, her arm surprisingly strong.
|
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Stacy had even tried to keep her eyes shut, but was unable to
|
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tear her gaze away from the scene which played itself out
|
|
obscenely on the TV screen in front of her.
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The sound started first, while the screen remained blank.
|
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"Please," came the voice over the TV speaker - HER VOICE!
|
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"Please let me fuck you. I want to fuck you." The picture faded
|
|
up, with her - Stacy - clearly visible in the centre of the room,
|
|
looking over at some unidentifiable person on the bed. "Please,"
|
|
she repeated. "Please let me fuck you. I want to... I really do.
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I'm sorry I was mean to you before. Please let me fuck you?"
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It was at this point that Stacy tried to jump up off the
|
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couch, but Sharon had been expecting it, and her encircling arm
|
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held the panicking girl down. Gary moved over as if to help his
|
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girlfriend, but stopped as he saw that no help was needed: Stacy
|
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went limp and relaxed back into the couch, her eyes wide as she
|
|
stared at the TV screen.
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She was watching herself slowly strip off her own clothes.
|
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First the tee-shirt... then the bra (Stacy began to cry on the
|
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couch as her TV image fondled and rubbed its breasts; her hand
|
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fluttered up to her face, as if to shield her eyes, but it
|
|
dropped back down to her lap when Gary frowned at her)... then
|
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the pants. Finally, she was naked on the screen.
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"Please." The girl on the screen (Stacy could no longer
|
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believe it was herself saying and doing those things; she started
|
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thinking of her image on the screen as someone else) seemed to be
|
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almost panting in lust. "Please fuck me. In need it so bad.
|
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Please fuck me." The naked girl ran her hands over her erect
|
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nipples. "Please... I want it now..."
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"Come here, bitch!" The figure on the bed, only visible in
|
|
the corner of the picture, spoke (Stacy knew it was Neil, but her
|
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mind refused to put a name to him - surely what was happening on
|
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the screen had nothing to do with her). The naked girl responded
|
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quickly; breasts bobbing, she ran over and kneeled at the side of
|
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the bed. After remaining in this position for a few moments, the
|
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girl reached for the man's crotch and fumbled with the zipper.
|
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"Oh yes," she breathed. "Please let me have your cock."
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The viewpoint shifted suddenly, to a shot taken above and
|
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behind the man lying on the bed. (A second camera, Stacy
|
|
realized; there had been two cameras.) From the new point of
|
|
view, the girl's actions between the man's legs could be seen
|
|
clearly. First, she handled the cock with her fingers; then she
|
|
kissed it, long slow kisses with lots of tongue; finally she
|
|
enveloped it completely within her mouth. The girl's head bobbed
|
|
up and down and she made loud slobbering sounds as she worked on
|
|
the cock, sucking and licking. The man reached down in front of
|
|
her and began to play with her nipples, which were plainly very
|
|
hard. Finally, he leaned back and pushed her away. She quickly
|
|
pulled his jeans off and, after he lay back on the bed, climbed
|
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on top of him, straddling his naked thighs.
|
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The camera switched back to original point of view, as the
|
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girl began to play with herself while kneeling on the bed. It
|
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zoomed in and panned slowly down her body, from her slack,
|
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lust-glazed face, down across her panting chest and, finally,
|
|
down to her pussy, where her fingers worked frantically. She was
|
|
visibly wet. Then it slowly pulled back, revealing her entire
|
|
body, just as she leaned forward and impaled herself on the man's
|
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stiff cock. Slowly, she moved her hips down until the cock was
|
|
stuffed fully into her pussy. Then, moaning slightly, she began
|
|
to grind her hips up and down, fucking herself silly as the man
|
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played with her bobbing breasts.
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|
Once more, the camera zoomed in, and played down her sweaty
|
|
body, perfectly capturing each detail on video-tape. The girl's
|
|
excitement began to increase as her moans became cries and then
|
|
threatened to become screams. The camera pulled back just as she
|
|
hit the crest of her orgasm, and held the shot as the man pulled
|
|
the girl down to his chest and climaxed himself. The picture
|
|
slowly faded on this shot, with the girl collapsed sweatily on
|
|
top of the man, panting and gasping for breath.
|
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|
"Anyhow," Gary was still speaking, "we won't worry about
|
|
that for now. The important thing is to set out the rules of our
|
|
little game and get started. The details can be worked out
|
|
later." Stacy just stared across the room at the now-dark screen,
|
|
in a daze. Gary, who had begun pacing the room during his little
|
|
speech, came to a halt beside the TV. He looked down at her. "In
|
|
order to win the game," he said mildly, "you are going to have to
|
|
fuck fifty different guys at school before the end of the school
|
|
year. That's all." Finally, his words began to register on the
|
|
stunned teenager. Had he said "fifty guys"? Fuck fifty guys?
|
|
"Nooo," Stacy cried, leaping suddenly off the couch. It was
|
|
too much! Sharon grabbed after her, but the pudgy girl was too
|
|
slow. In a split second, Stacy was on Gary, swinging wildly with
|
|
both hands while swearing and cursing at him. One of her swings
|
|
caught him across the face, sending his glasses sailing across
|
|
the room. Before Stacy could feel any satisfaction, however, she
|
|
was grabbed from behind and pulled away. Neil had run up and
|
|
wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pinning her arms to her
|
|
sides.
|
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"You bastard! You fucker! You asshole!" Stacy spat and
|
|
cried, struggling frantically as Neil dragged her back, but it
|
|
was no use. She was thrown back onto the couch, and Sharon once
|
|
again held her down. This time, Neil also stood beside the couch,
|
|
ready for any further trouble. Stacy brought her hands up to her
|
|
face and began to cry.
|
|
Gary walked over and picked up his glasses. After examining
|
|
them to make certain they were not damaged, he slipped them back
|
|
on his face and looked across at Stacy. "That's fifty-five, now,"
|
|
he said mildly.
|
|
Stacy just stared at him with tear filled eyes. "You're
|
|
crazy," she sobbed. "I won't do anything like that. I can't...
|
|
you can't make me."
|
|
"Let me tell you the alternatives," Gary answered, resuming
|
|
his earlier pacing. "If you refuse, we will send copies of that
|
|
tape to every guy at school. We will post the still pictures -
|
|
you haven't seen them yet, but I can tell you that they are every
|
|
bit as revealing as the video - at suitable places around the
|
|
school and the town. We will even try to sell them to some
|
|
magazines, if we can." Stacy sobbed on the couch as he continued
|
|
his litany of threats. "Then, we will release the cassette tapes
|
|
of you buying the stolen test papers from Neil. In particular, we
|
|
will see that Dr. Grossman will get a copy. I'm sure he will know
|
|
what to do with it."
|
|
Stacy knew too: expulsion if she was lucky; criminal
|
|
prosecution if she was not.
|
|
"On the other hand," Gary continued inexorably, "if you play
|
|
our game, no one will have to know about these tapes and
|
|
pictures. There are thirty-two weeks left in school; fifty
|
|
fucks... fifty-five, rather, is barely more than three guys every
|
|
two weeks. Easy. And no one would have to know; you could do it
|
|
as discreetly as you liked." Stacy began to control her sobbing,
|
|
and started listening seriously to what Gary was saying. "What's
|
|
more, you don't even actually have to fuck every time. As long as
|
|
they ejaculate somewhere in your body, we don't care where it is:
|
|
cunt, ass, mouth... whatever."
|
|
Stacy sniffled loudly. How could he talk so calmly about
|
|
such a terrible...
|
|
"Besides," he continued, "there are other rules. Other rules
|
|
which should make it a little easier for you to reach fifty-
|
|
five."
|
|
"O-other rules?" Stacy couldn't believe that she was
|
|
beginning to consider playing along. Sharon squeezed her
|
|
shoulder, as if in some bizarre form of encouragement.
|
|
"Teachers are worth ten," came the answer. "There must be at
|
|
least one teacher. Female students are worth three each, and
|
|
there must be at least one female student. As well, there must be
|
|
at least one student fucked in each grade." Greenwood was a full
|
|
high school, and thus held grades eight to twelve. The grade
|
|
eights were only thirteen or fourteen years old. "The grade
|
|
eight, nine and tens are worth two each."
|
|
Gary finished speaking and looked directly at Stacy, who had
|
|
begun to cry again. "Do you understand?" he concluded with a
|
|
question. Stacy nodded through her tears, unable to speak. "What
|
|
will you do then? Play along, or do we release the tapes and
|
|
pictures?"
|
|
The room fell silent, the question hanging in the air. Stacy
|
|
was momentarily unable to form an answer. On the one hand, she
|
|
would have to do all those awful things, but the alternative...
|
|
the alternative was too terrible to contemplate. She would be
|
|
ruined in Bakersville, both as a person and as a student. The
|
|
only way out was to play along with their little game, and hope
|
|
to pull it off without anyone finding out about it. 'Oh god,' she
|
|
thought, her heart sinking. 'Fifty-five guys.'
|
|
Mutely, she looked up at Gary and nodded her assent; she
|
|
would do it.
|
|
Gary felt a wave of relief flood over him as she nodded her
|
|
agreement, but only permitted a small smile to show on his face.
|
|
Neil, on the other hand, laughed out loud, as did Sharon as their
|
|
tension dissipated. There had always been the chance, however
|
|
unlikely, that Stacy would refuse and then go to the police. Now,
|
|
however, they had her; she would do as they ordered. This was
|
|
going to be an interesting year.
|
|
Gary looked down on her as she sat forlorn on the couch,
|
|
staring at the floor. She looked so upset and vulnerable sitting
|
|
there. To Gary, she looked far more appealing in tears than she
|
|
did when she was in her usual arrogant position at school. All
|
|
those bitches needed to be taken down a peg or...
|
|
That gave Gary had an idea. It was time to test their
|
|
control over her. As well, there was the small matter of her
|
|
slapping his glasses across the room.
|
|
"Before we accept your agreement," he told her, "you should
|
|
be punished for attacking me. We will not permit that from you."
|
|
Stacy looked up at him, drawn out of her private misery.
|
|
"W-what do you mean?"
|
|
"I think you need a spanking," Gary told her. "Teach you a
|
|
lesson."
|
|
Stacy stared in disbelief. "You must be joking." Even after
|
|
everything she had just heard, she couldn't believe what he was
|
|
saying.
|
|
Gary shook his head. "You say you're going to play along
|
|
with our game, but a couple of minutes ago, you attacked me. How
|
|
do we know you won't do it again? Why should we believe you? Your
|
|
choices are simple: obey us, and take your punishment, or leave
|
|
now and let us get on with the business of sending out the tapes.
|
|
It'll probably take most of the weekend to make enough copies."
|
|
Stacy started crying again - was there no end to her tears? - but
|
|
inevitably nodded in submission.
|
|
"Good," Gary told her. "Stand up and pull down your pants."
|
|
Trembling, Stacy obeyed, exposing her sleek, muscular legs and
|
|
plain white panties. "Now go lie over Sharon's knees. She will
|
|
administer the spanking." Stacy flushed red at this order, while
|
|
Sharon laughed in delight. For a moment, it looked as if Stacy
|
|
would refuse, but eventually she began to move around so she
|
|
could lie across Sharon's legs as the younger girl sat on the
|
|
couch. She moved slowly, taking small, awkward steps because of
|
|
the pants which were bunched around her ankles, but eventually,
|
|
she fell to her knees and stretched herself across Sharon's pudgy
|
|
legs. Her ass was completely exposed.
|
|
Sharon needed no instructions. She put her left arm across
|
|
the small of Stacy's back, and began vigorously spanking the
|
|
exposed bottom. Before long, the air was filled with the sound of
|
|
Stacy's cries and sobs, punctuated by the regular, merciless
|
|
slapping sound of Sharon's hand being brought down hard on the
|
|
now red flesh of Stacy's ass.
|
|
Gary tore his eyes away from the scene and looked at Neil,
|
|
who was watching the action with his mouth wide open. There was a
|
|
conspicuous bulge in his jeans. Well, Gary thought, why not? He
|
|
instructed his friend to pull down his pants and take a seat
|
|
beside Sharon on the couch. Neil did so, and was quickly in
|
|
place. Stacy's face was now on his lap as she lay parallel to the
|
|
couch across Sharon's legs. The crying teenager turned her head
|
|
and squirmed to avoid Neil's engorged cock as it stood upright
|
|
from his lap. Sharon had momentarily stopped spanking and was
|
|
looking over with interest.
|
|
Gary reached down, and yanked Stacy's blonde hair, pulling
|
|
her tear-stained face upward. "I think you know what you're going
|
|
to do, here. We'll be generous and call this number one. Do you
|
|
understand?" Stacy squirmed on Sharon's lap, but nodded. "Good
|
|
girl. Sharon will keep spanking until Neil comes. When he does
|
|
come, you take every drop." He released Stacy's hair, and her
|
|
face fell back down onto Neil's lap. Gary gestured towards
|
|
Sharon, and she began spanking again.
|
|
|
|
Stacy pulled her arms forward, and propped herself up
|
|
slightly. She took Neil's cock in her mouth and began to suck and
|
|
lick it. It was difficult not to jerk around with the spanking,
|
|
but Stacy had a pretty good idea of what would happen to her if
|
|
she were to touch Neil's cock with her teeth. Frantically, she
|
|
sucked, moaning and gasping as her head slid up and down on
|
|
Neil's penis, and Sharon laid into her ass. The pain from the
|
|
spanking was getting more intense, but she was quieter now, as
|
|
Neil's cock served as an efficient gag.
|
|
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Neil jerked his
|
|
hips upward and came, spurting wave after wave of hot, salty
|
|
sperm into her mouth. She struggled to swallow it as ordered, her
|
|
throat working frantically, but some of it leaked into her
|
|
windpipe, causing her to cough. A wad of sperm was sent up into
|
|
her nasal passages, and dribbled out of her nose. When she
|
|
finally pulled her sweaty face up off of Neil's now flaccid cock,
|
|
there was sperm trailing out of her mouth and nose, leaving a
|
|
long strand connected to Neil's penis. Her ass was bright red and
|
|
shiny where Sharon had been spanking.
|
|
"Smile," Gary called over. Dazed, Stacy moved her head to
|
|
the right - pulling the strand of sperm along with her - just as
|
|
Gary snapped a picture commemorating the event.
|
|
|
|
That was NUMBER ONE.
|
|
|
|
END PART THREE
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Cheers,
|
|
--
|
|
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org
|
|
|
|
Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side? And hain't that a big
|
|
enough majority in any town? --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"
|
|
|
|
From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 03:59:34
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
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From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
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Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:02:20 +0100
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Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
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Subject: Repost: PARKER: Stacy's Senior Year 4/10 (mf, nc)
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Message-ID: <2272376@spectre.ka.sub.org>
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Hello,
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this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
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requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
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Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
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email to you. If you want it, save it now.
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MINI-FAQ:
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- Please post stories only to this group. If you are fed up with other
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people posting crap here, consider sending them a friendly, short message
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telling them that they are breaching the charter of this group, and that
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they should take their talk to another, more suitable group.
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- Ignore stupid and offensive posts, ala "AOL r00lz/sucks", "<het|gay>
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off this group", etc. pp. Rest assured that other people find this as
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offensive as you do - no need to point it out to everybody. Chances are
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that it was a troll, anyways. If you must vent some steam, send email,
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post to alt.sex.stories.d, or forward the offending post to the person's
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postmaster.
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-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
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Subject: STORY: Stacy04
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From: an31072@anon.penet.fi
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Date: Thu, 26 Aug 1993 16:58:48 UTC
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STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
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(PART FOUR)
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By Parker
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WARNING: This is not a nice story. It features blackmail,
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non-consensual intercourse, humiliation, D&S and all that
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good sort of stuff (although not all of the above appears in
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every instalment). This story is not politically correct! If
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you are offended by this sort of thing, stop reading now,
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before it is TOO LATE! OK?
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- This is Part four of a ten part series. This means that
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you should read the other three parts first.
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- I am only posting this once. If you miss an instalment, I
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have been informed that this story is being picked up by a
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mailserver (ahh... imortality). Just send a message to:
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"laff@sal.cs.uiuc.edu" with the message "Filesend: help" in
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the body of the message.
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- BTW, I would appreciate it if anyone having knowledge of
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other mailservers (which may or may not be picking up this
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story) could let me know about them. Thanks.
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=================================================================
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NUMBER TWO:
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The blue Plymouth Valiant drove steadily through the mostly
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deserted night streets of Bakersville, its headlights cutting a
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swath through the surrounding darkness. Inside, Barry Packard
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could barely believe his luck. He snuck a glance to his right,
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trying not to be too obvious about it. Sitting beside him, in the
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passenger seat, was - unbelievably - Stacy Richards, easily the
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most beautiful girl in school (in Barry's opinion). She sat
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quietly, staring straight ahead through the front window as the
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car rolled along, her perfect features lit intermittently by the
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passing street lights. She had seemed a little quiet and nervous
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the entire evening, leading Barry to worry that she was bored or
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unhappy with him - Barry was neither confident nor particularly
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successful with girls - but when he had apologised and offered
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to take her home, she had insisted that she was having a good
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time, and didn't want to go home.
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In fact, it had been her idea that they head down to the
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beach. THE BEACH! That was the prime "make-out" spot for the
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teenagers of Bakersville. On any given night, there would usually
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be at least a handful of cars parked alongside the long dirt road
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which traced the coastline to the south of the town. Barry had
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never dreamed that one day he would be taking Stacy Richards
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there (actually, he had "dreamed" about it several times; he had
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just never imagined that it would really happen).
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Barry steered the car off the paved section of the street
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and onto the bumpier dirt road which ran alongside the beach. In
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reality, Barry had never expected that he would ever go on a date
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with Stacy. Her kind was usually reserved for the star of the
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football team, or some other equivalent sports hero, and even
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then only for the duration of his fame. Barry, on the other hand,
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was a second-string lineman, only put into the game when the
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result was no longer in doubt. In fact, he really didn't even
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like football. He was certainly not particularly ugly or
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unpopular, but girls like Stacy were usually so far above his
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particular level in the school social strata that he could only
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dream of going out with her. It had been a matter of pride with
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Barry that he had gathered the nerve to ask her out last summer,
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and although she had turned him down at the time, she had been
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less cruel about it than she could have been. Still, he had been
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more than a little surprised when Stacy had called him up last
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week and suggested a Saturday-night date.
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He had even half-expected that it would all turn out to be
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some kind of a joke, but when he had arrived at her house to pick
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her up, she had indeed been waiting for him, a vision of beauty
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in her short skirt and light blouse. She hadn't seemed overly
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friendly or talkative, but Barry didn't know enough about her to
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know whether or not this was her usual behaviour. Still, the
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movie and dinner had gone off OK, and, of course, it had been her
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suggestion that they drive down to the beach afterwards. Even as
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he drove along the beach road, Barry still couldn't believe it.
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His cock bulged pleasurably in his pants as he steered the car
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around a bend in the road.
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"How about here?" he asked, trying, but not quite
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succeeding, to sound casual. His voice was hoarse and dry. He had
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picked a fairly popular spot about half a mile along the road;
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there was another car parked a couple of hundred yards away.
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Stacy shook her head, her blonde hair shimmering in the
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starlight. "Further along," she said quietly.
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Barry shrugged and drove the car further along the road,
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passing through and then leaving behind all of the more popular
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and well-used spots. The road was almost deserted, which was
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unusual for a Saturday night, but the weather had been turning a
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little cold lately. In fact, Barry had seen Stacy shivering a
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little earlier while they had been walking out of the restaurant.
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He had noted that she was dressed quite lightly for November.
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Even this far south, the weather began to cool down by this time
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of the year.
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Twenty minutes later, Barry had parked the car in a suitably
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secluded spot; there had been no one else on the road for the
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last three miles. The night fell briefly silent as the car engine
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was shut off, but the sound of the breakers crashing against the
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shoreline quickly became apparent as the two teenagers sat for a
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few moments in awkward silence. Barry was too nervous to start
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anything, and Stacy just sat there, staring out over the dark,
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black water.
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Barry could take it no longer. "Well..." He started to say
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something, but was interrupted by the feel of Stacy's hand
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against his. His throat constricted and his heart skipped a beat
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as she slid across the seat and wrapped her arm over his
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shoulder. She put her hand on his face and turned it towards her.
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She was so beautiful in the starlight!
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"K-kiss me," she whispered, her voice shaking. She sounded
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curiously reluctant, almost frightened. Barry, however, didn't
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notice and probably wouldn't have cared if he had noticed. This
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was a dream come true. He pulled her slim body towards himself on
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the car seat and crushed his mouth to hers. After a brief
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hesitation, her lips parted, allowing him to slip his tongue into
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her waiting mouth. She wasn't kissing him back, though; she
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merely accepted his advances passively as she sat beside him on
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the car seat. Barry, sensing her reticence, pulled away,
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breaking the kiss.
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"Is something wrong?" he asked, short of breath. Stacy bit
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her lower lip before answering. In the light, it looked to Barry
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as if she was about to cry, but she just shook her head.
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Satisfied, Barry leaned forward again. This time, she
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participated, crushing her lips against his and moving her tongue
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around in response to his advances. Soon, the two teenagers were
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necking vigorously in the front seat of the car as the windows
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began to steam up.
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A few moments later, Barry felt Stacy touch his hand and
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then guide it slowly to her breasts. He responded by squeezing
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and fondling them through the thin fabric of her blouse. Barry
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could barely believe what was happening! Daringly, he pulled open
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the buttons on her blouse; a couple of buttons broke free and
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fell to the seat, but Barry didn't notice. Stacy didn't react. He
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slipped his hand in and under her bra, cupping her breast. He
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half-expected her to put a halt to it, but she just continued
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kissing him. Gaining confidence, he reached around with his other
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hand and unclipped the back of the bra. It fell away under her
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unbuttoned blouse, leaving her breasts almost fully exposed to
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his hands and eyes. Stacy tensed, but did not object or pull
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away.
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Instead, she reached down and ran her fingers along the now-
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conspicuous bulge in his jeans. Barry gasped; could this really
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be happening? He pulled back and looked over at Stacy. Her eyes
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were closed and her mouth was slightly open; she seemed to be
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breathing hard, but it was difficult for Barry to tell in the
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weak starlight. All he could see were her breasts rising and
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falling beneath the open blouse. Misgivings aside, he reached
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forward and began playing with those breasts, alternately
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squeezing them and then tweaking the nipples. Stacy gasped at
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this, but did not open her eyes.
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Meanwhile, her hand was at work, sliding open his zipper and
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reaching inside. She pushed her hand through the already damp
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front of Barry's underwear and slowly worked his penis out into
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the open. Once again, Barry was struck with a sense of disbelief
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at what was happening. He had never heard of Stacy Richards
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acting like this, even when she was going steady with someone.
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Even someone popular. Nevertheless, he continued fondling the
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offered breasts, content to let Stacy make the next move.
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That move wasn't long in coming. Stacy took a deep breath,
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opened her eyes and then leaned back on the seat, away from
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Barry. She sat back against the car door and pulled up her skirt,
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revealing her legs, pale and white in the starlight.
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"Stacy..." Barry was suddenly unsure of himself; he had only
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had sex one time before, and this was largely uncharted territory
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for him. "Are you sure you..."
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"Yes," she interrupted him, slipping her panties down her
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leg. "I want to... to do it... have sex w-with you." Once again,
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her frightened, tentative manner belied the content of her words,
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but the content was enough for Barry, who was already near to
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coming all over the car seat. He needed no more encouragement!
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Awkwardly, he shifted himself around so he lay atop Stacy's
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proffered body in the too-small car seat. He began to thrust his
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hips forward.
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"J-just a second." Stacy shifted her position, trying to
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avoid having her breasts painfully crushed against Barry's chest,
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but it was impossible. The car seat was just too small, and Barry
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was lying right on top of her. Resigned, she reached down and
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grabbed ahold of his penis with her long, cool fingers.
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"Ok... Ok... now." Stacy mumbled instructions as she guided
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Barry's stiff cock into her pussy. He was more than co-operative,
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and thrust forward vigorously when she instructed, but her pussy
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was still quite dry and she had to force every inch of inside her
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manually. Finally, it was inside. Stacy moved her hand away and
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squirmed around, still trying to get at least comfortable.
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Finally, she settled on a position, and put her arms around
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Barry's neck.
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After that, it was all over in a few seconds. Barry began
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pushing his hips roughly back and forth, grating his cock in and
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out of her unprepared pussy. Stacy tried to find a rhythm which
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would minimize the pain and discomfort, but was unable to do so.
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A thin line of drool slipped from between Barry's lips and
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dribbled down onto her chest as he pumped frantically. Gasping
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and moaning, she lay there as he suddenly stiffened and than came
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inside of her with a loud grunt. Unnoticed by Barry, a tear
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welled up out of her eye and slid down the side of her face.
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Finally, he relaxed, spent. As she lay there, crushed
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beneath his weight, she could feel his penis shrivelling up
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inside her burning pussy as the warm sperm began leaking out and
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down the inside of her thigh...
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*****
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Gary hung up the phone just as Sharon entered his bedroom.
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He was sitting in front of his computer which in turn sat on top
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of a desk in the far corner of his room. He nodded a indifferent
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greeting to her, and immediately began entering information into
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some sort of database program as Sharon walked forward. She came
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to a halt just behind him, putting her hands onto his shoulders.
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"What'cha up to?" He seemed to be entering some names and
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dates into little boxes on the screen (Sharon knew almost nothing
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about computers).
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"That was Stacy on the phone," he answered, still working.
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"She's fucked two guys since last week. I'm just entering it into
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the system."
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System? Sharon leaned in closer to the screen, suddenly
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interested. "Numbers two and three! Tell me about it."
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"Number two was Barry Packard." He fiddled with his mouse
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and then punched the return button on the computer; a new screen
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was called up. This screen held a name, a date and other
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information, including a small picture, obviously taken (scanned,
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although Sharon didn't know this) from the school yearbook.
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"Barry Packard." Gary pointed to that name at the top of the
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screen, and slowly read off the information as it appeared.
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"Fucked on Saturday, Nov.6; it occurred in the front seat of his
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car, which was parked down by the beach. Apparently, he came in
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about 20 seconds. Can't blame him, I suppose."
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Sharon laughed. "Number three?"
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Gary pushed another button, and another list of information
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appeared. "Grant Hardin." Sharon stifled a giggle at his name as
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Grant's digitized picture stared sombrely out of the top
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left-hand corner of the computer screen. He had a big nose.
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"Fucked on Tuesday, Nov.9 in his bedroom. He also came very
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quickly. He called out the name 'Susan' when he came."
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Sharon laughed again. "Seems there's not too many boys
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around who can restrain themselves with Stacy Richards. She must
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be a good fuck."
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Gary just shrugged. "Maybe. We'll see."
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"Perhaps we'll have to find her some real men," Sharon
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suggested. Gary looked intrigued at this suggestion, but didn't
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say anything. Sharon moved away sat down on the side of his bed,
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pulling out a cigarette. He noticed that she had a small paper
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bag with her.
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"What's that?" he asked, as she lit up and took a long,
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satisfied drag.
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"Oh, just a little something for Stacy," she smirked. "A
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little present to celebrate her success at the game." She reached
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into the bag and pulled out...
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*****
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NUMBER FOUR:
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"You bastard!" Stacy cried. "You fucking bastard!" She lay
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on her back on the leather couch in her parent's living room, her
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shirt and fingers sticky with sperm. She brushed her hands
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against the front of her shirt in a futile effort to wipe herself
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clean, but that only seemed to smear the warm, sticky fluid more
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evenly down her front. She began to cry, involuntarily bringing a
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hand up to her face to cover her eyes. When she took the hand
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away, her eyelid and cheek glistened with sperm.
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Toby Hooper, a tall, gangly sixteen year-old, had jumped
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back off of her after prematurely ejaculating. His already
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freckled face turned bright red with embarrassment as he fumbled
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to push his sticky cock back into his pants. "Jesus... I'm
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sorry," he apologized, zipping up his jeans. "I d-didn't mean
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to..."
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"Just fuck off and get out of here!" Stacy screamed at him.
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"Get out!" Tears ran down her face, mixing with the quickly
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congealing sperm on her cheeks.
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Toby, his pants now securely fastened, continued to stammer
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out incoherent apologies as he picked up his paper-sack and
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scurried out of the house. Outside, he jumped onto his bike and
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pedalled furiously away.
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Behind him, Stacy continued to cry on the couch, her blonde
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hair in disarray and her shirt and face coated with his quickly
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drying sperm.
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To Stacy, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity when
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Toby had come collecting money that Saturday morning for his
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paper route. She considered him to be, like, a total loser at
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school (as well as being a grade behind her) and did not find him
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the least bit attractive, with his messy red hair and freckles,
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but he was a student at Greenwood. From her present, unwelcome
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perspective, that was enough. Her parents were away on one of
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their weekend "getaways", so Stacy had been all alone in the
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house when he came by.
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She had thought that he would prove as easy to seduce as
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Barry and Grant had the week before - she was, after all, who she
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was - but it had turned out not to be so easy. Toby was going
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steady with a girl at school named Tami ("Toby & Tami..." she and
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Ashley had enjoyed making fun of them), and the dork seemed
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determined to be faithful to her. Either that, or he was just too
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stupid and shy to take a hint. Stacy had swallowed her pride and
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had come onto him like a bitch in heat - touching his hand;
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"accidentally" brushing against him with her breast; making
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suggestive comments about being lonely by herself in such a big
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house - but he would not react. Finally, she had been forced to
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come right out with it and more or less ask him directly to have
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sex with her. He had risen to his feet and turned to go,
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stammering something about being behind on his paper route, but
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Stacy wrapped her strong arms around him and crushed her lips to
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his face in a passionate kiss. When she eventually disentangled
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her tongue from his, he was breathing hard, and no longer so
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anxious to leave.
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She got him safely onto the couch in the living room and,
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after some more necking, she had succeeded in extracting his
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by-then rigid cock from his pants. By now, she had developed a
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technique for getting at a boy's cock quickly, although she still
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hated the feel of it. He was now co-operating fully, and had
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roughly pulled her pants down to her ankles. She fell back on the
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couch and prepared to help guide his cock into to her still
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unresponsive pussy, but as he had bent over her, his cock had
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twitched and the spurted jism all down the front of her shirt.
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There was so much of it! He had been saving up for sixteen years.
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She had thrown her hands up to protect herself, but had only
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succeeded in getting the warm, sticky fluid all over her fingers.
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Lying there, splattered with warm sperm, Stacy had begun the
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shrieking which would drive Toby out of the house.
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By the time her tears had subsided, the sperm had soaked
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through her blouse and had dried, sticky and brittle, against her
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skin. Her breathing steadied as she tried to come to terms with
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what she was becoming... what she was being forced to become.
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Shaking, she got to her feet and stumbled to the phone to make
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the report she had made twice before.
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Then a shower.
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*****
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Sharon's surprise present had turned out to be a small,
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stainless steel charm bracelet. It was not particularly expensive
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or attractive, but was solidly built, the links almost large
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enough to qualify as a chain. Almost. But, it was still a charm
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bracelet, and as such each link was designed in such a way as to
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allow for the attachment of numerous small pieces of jewellery,
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usually figurines or symbols: small hearts and the like. Sharon
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had not forgotten about that, and happily dumped the contents of
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a somewhat larger plastic bag onto the bed. The resulting pile
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revealed a large number - an even hundred, Sharon later explained
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- of small, steel "F"'s. Ordinarily, such ornaments would be worn
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on charm bracelets by girls with names beginning with that
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letter, but in Stacy's case the letter would stand for something
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else. Gary quickly figures out what that "something else" would
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be. By the end of the year, Sharon explained to a laughing Gary,
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Stacy's charm bracelet should be displaying fifty-five such
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ornaments.
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"Belling the cat," Gary chuckled. "I like it."
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"Not the cat," Sharon disagreed, "the pussy. Belling the
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pussy."
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Gary had laughed again and then drew her towards him for an
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appreciative kiss.
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*****
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The actual "belling" had gone very smoothly, Sharon thought.
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The next day at school, Neil and Gary had contrived to lead the
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"pussy" into the metal-working shop after classes. Before the
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frightened Stacy could protest, they had clipped the charm
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bracelet onto her left wrist, and then forced her arm onto a
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nearby workbench. Sharon had watched from the doorway - serving
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as a lookout - as Stacy started to struggle and cry out. Her
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struggles subsided, however, when Neil brought the soldering iron
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and solder down to her wrist; the slightest movement would have
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caused the molten solder to drip onto her exposed arm. Stacy
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watched in silent horror as the two boys soldered shut the clip
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to the charm bracelet, fastening it permanently to her wrist. She
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could still, of course, easily remove it with the proper tools,
|
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but such a removal would certainly leave evidence; evidence
|
|
which, Gary quietly explained to Stacy, would lead to the
|
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imposition of further punishment and humiliation. The charm
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bracelet would stay on her wrist until the school year was over.
|
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When Stacy had nodded her understanding, Neil took Sharon's
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place at the door, and the pudgy girl moved forward and fastened
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the small, steel "F"s to Stacy's newly acquired bracelet.
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Silently, she affixed four of them, spreading them evenly along
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the bracelet. Stacy looked on in disbelief as understanding
|
|
dawned in her face. Immediately, her large, green eyes flooded
|
|
with tears, but she didn't offer a protest. She knew there was
|
|
nothing that she could say.
|
|
Sharon had smirked at her and moved back when she was
|
|
finished affixing the charms. She and Gary had turned to leave
|
|
the room, but Neil had stayed behind, moving towards Stacy with
|
|
an unmistakable glint in his eyes. Sharon left the room and
|
|
walked away, while Gary stayed to stand watch. If she had turned
|
|
to look as she left the room, she would have seen Stacy, now on
|
|
her knees, reach forward - the charms clinking merrily on her
|
|
wrist - and begin to pull down the zipper of Neil's pants.
|
|
Sharon had not needed to look back however. She had a pretty
|
|
good idea of what would happen - what was happening as she sat on
|
|
the school steps, enjoying a cigarette. She was, however, rudely
|
|
jarred from her pleasant thoughts by a door banging shut behind
|
|
her, and the sound of someone crying. Turning, Sharon saw Tami
|
|
Slaighter, a classmate of hers. Sharon and Tami were not
|
|
particularly close friends, but Sharon's curiosity compelled her
|
|
to stand up and comfort the girl.
|
|
Bit by bit, the story came out as the sobbing Tami told
|
|
Sharon the reason for her tears.
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
NUMBER FIVE - EIGHT:
|
|
Dennis Baxter, thirteen years old, had had no direct
|
|
experience with girls and was certainly a virgin, but he knew sex
|
|
when he saw it. He was seeing it now, as he stared through the
|
|
partially open doorway which led to the instructor's storeroom in
|
|
the section of Greenwood set aside for the grade eight classes.
|
|
Every Friday afternoon, the grade eights took Recreation as the
|
|
last class of the day. This basically consisted of playing
|
|
various games - outside when it was warm enough, and in the gym
|
|
when it was not - and was supervised by upper level students for
|
|
extra credit.
|
|
Dennis's class was supervised by Stacy Richards, and it was
|
|
her that he had gone looking for after arriving late for class;
|
|
Dennis had a Doctor's note that needed delivering. When he had
|
|
arrived in the gymnasium, his classmates had told him that the
|
|
instructor had gone to the storeroom for some equipment. In a
|
|
hurry to deliver the note and join his friends, Dennis had
|
|
hurried along, hoping to find her.
|
|
Well, he had found her alright, but she was in no position
|
|
to receive the (now forgotten) note he held clutched in his
|
|
sweaty hand. As he looked through the doorway, he was greeted by
|
|
the sight of Stacy Richards on her hands and knees with her skirt
|
|
hiked up over her hips, while Tim Myers - himself no older than
|
|
Dennis - fucked in and out of her from behind. Tim grunted as he
|
|
frantically pistoned his hips back and forth, sliding his cock in
|
|
and out of her warm pussy. Stacy, her head down and face
|
|
curtained by her free-flowing blonde hair, was also making small
|
|
grunting noises as she moved her ass in time with his thrusts,
|
|
squirming and wiggling as she did so.
|
|
Dennis's mouth dropped open as he watched. He couldn't
|
|
believe what he was seeing! He pushed forward a bit to get a
|
|
better view, but accidentally bumped against the doorframe. At
|
|
once, Tim stopped moving and looked over at him, his face red
|
|
with shock and embarrassment. Stacy looked back over her shoulder
|
|
at the thirteen-year old, shaking her face free of her hair.
|
|
"No!" She sounded strange and anxious. "Don't stop." She
|
|
wiggled her hips hopefully around his still-sheathed cock.
|
|
"Please... keep going," she begged. She crouched back, trying to
|
|
impale herself further on his rapidly deflating cock.
|
|
Tim didn't move. "B-but..." Unable to speak, he gestured
|
|
towards Dennis, who stood frozen in the doorway. Stacy's head
|
|
turned towards him and she peered up at him from beneath the
|
|
curtain of hair. At first she looked as shocked and upset as Tim,
|
|
but she quickly recovered.
|
|
"Come in, Dennis," she invited, her voice a hoarse whisper.
|
|
"J-Join the fun." This last sentence ended with a quiet squeal as
|
|
Tim began moving again. Dennis didn't need to be told twice.
|
|
Carefully closing the door behind him, the teenager walked slowly
|
|
forward, uncertain of what to do next. Stacy gestured at him to
|
|
come closer as Tim's thrusts regained their earlier rhythm, if
|
|
somewhat lacking in their former urgency. The surprise at being
|
|
caught had obviously set him back a bit on the path to orgasm.
|
|
When Dennis was standing in front of her, Stacy reached up
|
|
and pulled down the zipper on his pants. She quickly slipped his
|
|
penis out and, without another word, began kissing and licking
|
|
it. Within minutes, it was as hard as a pole; Stacy engulfed it
|
|
with her mouth and began sucking for all she was worth, her lips
|
|
sliding up and down in time with Tim's regular thrusts into her
|
|
pussy. Plugged at both ends, she gasped and moaned as the two
|
|
boys pumped their rigid cocks in and out of her body.
|
|
Eventually, the Tim and Dennis came, more or less at the
|
|
same time. Tim pumped his sperm into Stacy's warm, wet pussy from
|
|
the rear, while Dennis ejaculated into her mouth and down her
|
|
rapidly convulsing throat. She swallowed every drop before the
|
|
penis fell loose, making certain that no evidence of her
|
|
behaviour would remain on her clothing or face. Behind her, Tim
|
|
began to laugh.
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
Later that same evening, Stacy had phoned Gary and, as
|
|
required, gave him the details of her sexual activities. He had
|
|
accepted the information as usual, but had some additional news
|
|
for her.
|
|
"Sharon talked to Tami today," he told her. "She knows what
|
|
happened last Saturday with you and Toby."
|
|
"W-what do you mean? I already told you what h-happened."
|
|
Stacy felt sick to her stomach. What had she done wrong? Were
|
|
then going to release the pictures after all?
|
|
"Your paperboy 'lover' never came inside of you. According
|
|
to Tami, he couldn't restrain himself. Is that what happened?"
|
|
Stacy bit her lip and hesitated. She had not mentioned that
|
|
part of her encounter with Toby out of sheer embarrassment. She
|
|
had been somewhat surprised to discover that she still had some
|
|
pride left, even after all that had happened - but she couldn't
|
|
see how that mattered.
|
|
"Y-yes," she answered, finally. "That's what happened." Fuck
|
|
you, she thought.
|
|
"Well then, you know the rules. It doesn't count unless your
|
|
partner ejaculates inside of you. Don't you remember?"
|
|
Stacy's vision began to blur with tears. She remembered.
|
|
Gary evidently took her silence as agreement, because he
|
|
continued speaking. "You broke the rules. Not only does Toby not
|
|
count, but you now have an extra ten to do, bringing the total up
|
|
to an even sixty-five."
|
|
SIXTY-FIVE!
|
|
"You can't do that," Stacy exclaimed, horrified. He
|
|
couldn't...
|
|
"I'm sorry; I didn't catch that." Gary sounded amused. "Did
|
|
you just tell me that I 'can't' do something?"
|
|
Stacy bit her lip in an effort to regain control - in an
|
|
effort not to tell him what she really thought. Finally, she
|
|
mastered her emotions enough to answer him.
|
|
"No. I didn't." Her voice shook. "You can do whatever you
|
|
l-like."
|
|
"Right. Well, after fucking the two kiddies today, your
|
|
total was up to eight, but it goes back down to seven after we
|
|
subtract Toby. That leaves fifty-eight to go, right?"
|
|
He seemed to expect an answer. "Right," she agreed, her
|
|
voice trembling. "Fifty-eight." Fifty-eight! Involuntarily, she
|
|
looked down at her wrist where the charm bracelet anchored the
|
|
four metal "F"s to her wrist. Fifty-eight.
|
|
"We'll get the new 'charms' to you tomorrow. Oh, and one
|
|
other thing," Gary continued. "Tami is Sharon's friend, and she
|
|
is apparently quite upset about what happened. Sharon wants you
|
|
to apologise."
|
|
"Apologise?!?"
|
|
"She's asked Toby and Tami to meet her at the playing field
|
|
an hour before school on Monday. She wants you there to apologise
|
|
for trying to seduce Toby, and promise never to try it again."
|
|
The line fell silent as Stacy struggled to comprehend to
|
|
enormity of the humiliation she was going to be forced to suffer
|
|
the following morning.
|
|
"Do you understand?"
|
|
Stacy took a ragged breath and then answered in the
|
|
affirmative. "Yes."
|
|
"Good. Well... that's all then. Pleasant dreams." He hung up
|
|
the phone.
|
|
Stacy slammed the receiver down, ran across her room and
|
|
threw herself down on the bed in pain and anguish. In fury, she
|
|
slammed her fists repeatedly into the unresisting mattress and
|
|
pillow, causing the charm bracelet - unimpressed by her display
|
|
of temper - to jingle quietly as the small, metallic "F"s flashed
|
|
silver on her wrist.
|
|
|
|
END PART FOUR
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Cheers,
|
|
--
|
|
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org
|
|
|
|
Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side? And hain't that a big
|
|
enough majority in any town? --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"
|
|
|
|
From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 03:59:57
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:02:28 +0100
|
|
Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
|
|
Subject: Repost: PARKER: Stacy's Senior Year 8/10 (mf, nc)
|
|
Message-ID: <2272380@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
|
|
Hello,
|
|
|
|
this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
|
|
requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
|
|
Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
|
|
email to you. If you want it, save it now.
|
|
|
|
MINI-FAQ:
|
|
|
|
- Please post stories only to this group. If you are fed up with other
|
|
people posting crap here, consider sending them a friendly, short message
|
|
telling them that they are breaching the charter of this group, and that
|
|
they should take their talk to another, more suitable group.
|
|
|
|
- Ignore stupid and offensive posts, ala "AOL r00lz/sucks", "<het|gay>
|
|
off this group", etc. pp. Rest assured that other people find this as
|
|
offensive as you do - no need to point it out to everybody. Chances are
|
|
that it was a troll, anyways. If you must vent some steam, send email,
|
|
post to alt.sex.stories.d, or forward the offending post to the person's
|
|
postmaster.
|
|
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
Subject: STORY: Stacy08
|
|
From: an31072@anon.penet.fi (PARKER)
|
|
Date: Thu, 9 Sep 1993 18:53:44 UTC
|
|
|
|
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
|
|
(PART EIGHT)
|
|
By Parker
|
|
|
|
WARNING: This story contains blackmail, non-consensual sex,
|
|
D&S, humiliation and all that sort of good stuff (although
|
|
not, of course, in every instalment). This story is not
|
|
politically correct. If that bothers you, don't read it.
|
|
Really; STOP NOW, before it is too late.
|
|
- This is part eight of a ten part story (ie. read the other
|
|
seven first).
|
|
Copyright 1993. Feel free to distribute the story as
|
|
you wish, but use some discretion. Thanks.
|
|
|
|
=================================================================
|
|
|
|
NUMBER 34 & 35
|
|
The "musicians" of the rock band thrashed away for all they
|
|
were worth on the tiny stage of the Greenwood High School
|
|
gymnasium, but their collective efforts produced nothing more
|
|
than a wash of reverberating mush as the over-amplified music
|
|
bounced randomly back and forth off the bare, wooden walls of the
|
|
box-shaped gym. The kids didn't care, though. They never did. As
|
|
usual, they just milled around, boys on one side, girls on the
|
|
other, with the few couples brave enough to dance bouncing
|
|
awkwardly up and down - more or less in time with the deep throb
|
|
of the bass - in the centre of the floor.
|
|
The walls of the gym were festooned with bright pink
|
|
balloons; blue and pink streamers created a curtain over each
|
|
doorway; a number of bowls of pink grapefruit punch (three of
|
|
them now, predictably, spiked with vodka) sat on a long table
|
|
against one wall; and a large banner proclaiming "Happy
|
|
Valentine's Day" in large pink letters (the "i", of course,
|
|
dotted with a heart) hung over the stage where the band was
|
|
playing.
|
|
A typical Valentine's Day dance at Greenwood High.
|
|
In keeping with the theme, Stacy arrived at the dance
|
|
wearing pink and blue. She was beautifully decked out in an
|
|
extremely short pink skirt (no more than four inches below her
|
|
bum) and a sleeveless, powder blue blouse. This, along with the
|
|
pink knee-socks and white high-heeled shoes gave her an
|
|
appealing, little girl look, which was enhanced by the fact that
|
|
she was wearing her hair in a pony tail.
|
|
The look, however, hadn't been her choice. Very little was,
|
|
these days. The outfit had been selected by Sharon to create this
|
|
effect. In fact, Sharon was now frequently picking out which
|
|
clothes Stacy should wear for specific occasions. Nothing too
|
|
startlingly different from Stacy's usual mode of dress, but
|
|
always a bit more revealing than Stacy would have chosen on her
|
|
own. Gradually, over the course of the last couple of months,
|
|
Sharon had been taking over various aspects of Stacy's life in
|
|
general. Stacy had objected at first, but Sharon had made the
|
|
usual threats, and Stacy had inevitably capitulated. As well,
|
|
Sharon was now able to compel Stacy's obedience by threatening to
|
|
cut off her supply of Gary's drugs. By now, Stacy was reliant
|
|
upon Gary's mixture, which allowed her to get excited when having
|
|
sex; without it, her enforced promiscuity would have been - and
|
|
had been, before the session with Ashley - extremely painful. She
|
|
was becoming, in Sharon's words, "well trained".
|
|
A well trained slut.
|
|
As it was, the combination of drugs and scotch allowed her
|
|
to get at least some enjoyment from the sex, a vital advantage
|
|
since she was having it so regularly. As well as the large number
|
|
of guys she was still required to fuck to meet her quota of
|
|
sixty-five before the end of the year, her blackmailers had
|
|
ordered her not to refuse repeat business. Every time someone she
|
|
had already had sex with asked for more, she had to say yes
|
|
(provided, of course, that the asker was willing to pay the five
|
|
dollars). As a result, she was now fucking and sucking daily,
|
|
sometimes two, three or even four times. Inevitably, this led to
|
|
her getting a reputation for putting out, which in turn led more
|
|
guys to try to fuck her. On the surface, nothing had changed, and
|
|
she still held her position in the school hierarchy, but among
|
|
many if not most of the guys at school, the word was out: Stacy
|
|
Richards was a hot slut, who dropped her panties at the slightest
|
|
pretext. This was not, strictly speaking, entirely true. In the
|
|
last couple of weeks, Stacy had stopped wearing panties (another
|
|
of Sharon's "suggestions"); it was too much trouble getting them
|
|
on and off, and too many pairs were ruined. Pants were also a
|
|
thing of the past; the new Stacy only wore short skirts.
|
|
The new Stacy was also looking for a guy to fuck. She stood
|
|
in a corner of the gym next to the door leading to the boy's
|
|
locker room, playing absently with her heavily decorated charm
|
|
bracelet (thirty-three bright, shiny "F"s), and scanning the
|
|
crowd for a likely candidate. She tried to be inconspicuous as
|
|
she looked around; she had already run into one of her previous
|
|
"partners" in the parking lot, and had been forced, upon his
|
|
request, to give him a blow-job. A crumpled, sticky five dollar
|
|
bill in her purse testified to his willingness to pay. If any
|
|
others saw her in here - particularly dressed as she was - she
|
|
would probably have to serve them as well. The blow-job had been
|
|
made all the more unpleasant by the fact that she had been unable
|
|
to drink any of the scotch prepared for her by Gary. Without the
|
|
excitement caused by the drugs, it had been a humiliating and
|
|
painful event. She was not going to be caught unprepared again.
|
|
After wiping the sperm off her face (she had been unable to
|
|
swallow all of it), she had taken a number of swigs from the
|
|
flask in her purse. Already, she was feeling the warm tingle at
|
|
the base of her stomach, and her breathing was becoming quick and
|
|
shallow.
|
|
She scanned the crowd, desperate as she became more and more
|
|
excited. Who to fuck?
|
|
|
|
Gary looked on, smiling as he saw Stacy - dressed up like
|
|
some kind of wet dream - call someone over to her. It was Paul
|
|
Baxter, from grade eleven. A tall guy with glasses and bad skin;
|
|
kind of quiet. He watched as Stacy pulled him closer and
|
|
whispered something in his ear. A few second later, Paul blushed
|
|
a furious red, but allowed himself to be led into the locker
|
|
room. The couple disappeared from sight.
|
|
"She's found one already?" Gary turned. Sharon had come up
|
|
behind him as he had been watching Stacy at work. The short girl
|
|
was holding a glass of punch. She was almost shouting to be heard
|
|
over the roar of the band.
|
|
"Yeah," he answered, shouting in reply. "Paul Baxter; from
|
|
Rhenquist's French class."
|
|
"Didn't take long," Sharon commented, taking a swallow of
|
|
spiked punch.
|
|
Gary grinned at her. "Not the way you dressed her up
|
|
tonight. Nice job."
|
|
Sharon nodded at the compliment, but didn't return the grin.
|
|
Something was bothering her. "You've made it too easy for her,"
|
|
she complained. "The drugs make it too much fun. She's enjoying
|
|
herself too much."
|
|
Gary's grin just widened. "Well," he answered, "maybe I
|
|
should let you in on a little secret." He looked around, as if
|
|
anyone could hear them over the band. Sharon just stared at him,
|
|
waiting.
|
|
"After the first couple of weeks, I stopped putting the
|
|
drugs in the scotch. Since the end of January, she's just been
|
|
drinking the scotch. Straight."
|
|
Sharon's eyes widened in surprise. "But... that's two weeks
|
|
now. She hasn't said... she didn't..."
|
|
"Right," Gary interrupted. "That's the beauty of it. She
|
|
gets horny now completely on her own. All it takes is a little
|
|
scotch, and she's ready to jump into bed with anybody. Soon, I'm
|
|
going to start changing the type of alcohol. By the end of the
|
|
year, she'll turn into a slut every time she touches a drop of
|
|
alcohol. It's all part of the training."
|
|
Sharon's surprise turned into amusement. "Gary," she
|
|
chuckled, "that's perfect." She began to laugh outright.
|
|
"What's so funny?" It was Neil. He was already half drunk.
|
|
Gary looked over at the laughing Sharon. "You tell him," he
|
|
suggested to her. "I think I'll send a few more guys Stacy's way.
|
|
I think I see the Schaefer brothers."
|
|
He turned and walked off as Sharon began to explain to Neil
|
|
exactly what it was that was so funny.
|
|
|
|
Frank Schaefer shoved open the swinging door to the locker
|
|
room and ponderously squeezed his bulk through the doorway. He
|
|
was followed closely by his younger brother, Simon. The Schaefer
|
|
brothers were both extremely fat - each weighing over 250
|
|
pounds - and would have been fatter still if they had not been
|
|
quite as tall as they were. Still, even at well over six feet,
|
|
they were each enormously obese. They were a number of years
|
|
older than the other students at Greenwood, having been
|
|
frequently held back grades while their contemporaries advanced
|
|
and graduated. Their size was matched only by their stupidity,
|
|
and they had become something of a joke at Greenwood. Fortunately
|
|
for them, that same size protected them from any real bullying,
|
|
and they were generally left alone. That was why they were so
|
|
surprised when Gary approached them at the dance and suggested
|
|
that it might be a good idea for them to go into the locker room
|
|
"to check things out". They had been puzzled at this, but they
|
|
found most things puzzling, so they just shrugged their shoulders
|
|
and ambled into the locker room.
|
|
They were greeted by the sound of a female voice as they
|
|
moved slowly down the short passageway leading to the main
|
|
changing room.
|
|
"Oh... yes... yes... yes."
|
|
The voice was low and hoarse with lust.
|
|
The Schaefer brothers hurried forward as best they could and peered
|
|
around thecorner into the main part of the room.
|
|
"Oh yes... fuck me... fuck me..." It was Stacy Richards! The brothers
|
|
looked on in amazement.
|
|
Some guy was lying back on a bench while Stacy Richards - THE
|
|
Stacy Richards - slid up and down on his hard cock. Her short
|
|
skirt was pulled up around her waist, and they could clearly see
|
|
where the cock slid in and out of her moist cunt.
|
|
"Oh... oh... oh..." She had stopped formulating words, and was just
|
|
panting and
|
|
whimpering as the pace sped up. Stacy's pretty, blue blouse was
|
|
undone and she was frantically mauling her own tits. Her chest
|
|
glistened with sweat as her lithe body bobbed up and down like a
|
|
yo-yo on the impaling cock.
|
|
"Holy cow!" Simon, the younger of the two brothers, was
|
|
unable to contain himself. Frank swatted him on the back of the
|
|
head, but it was too late; the damage was done.
|
|
|
|
Stacy stopped bouncing and looked up in shock. Someone was
|
|
watching! Beneath her, Paul struggled, trying to sit up. She
|
|
fought to hold him down - he was just about to come! - but when
|
|
he saw Frank and Simon standing there with their mouths gaping
|
|
open, he cursed and scrambled back along the bench. His cock
|
|
pulled out of Stacy's sopping pussy just before he came, spraying
|
|
sperm onto her stomach and legs.
|
|
"No!" Stacy grabbed at it and tried to push it back into her
|
|
cunt before it stopped spraying; IT DIDN'T COUNT unless he came
|
|
inside of her. But Paul was too quick, twisting out from under
|
|
her and scrambling quickly to his feet. Flushing red with
|
|
embarrassment, he pulled his pants up, pushed blindly past the
|
|
Schaefer brothers and ran out the door and into the gym. There
|
|
was a brief surge of bad rock music, and then the door slammed
|
|
shut behind him with a loud bang.
|
|
Stacy sat straddling the bench, panting with rage and
|
|
frustration as the still-warm sperm dribbled down her stomach and
|
|
coagulated in her pussy hair. IT DIDN'T COUNT! And she was still
|
|
so horny...
|
|
She heard a sound in front of her and looked up. The
|
|
Schaefer brothers, mortified and confused, were turning to leave.
|
|
"Wait," she cried.
|
|
Frank turned and looked at her. 'Oh god', she thought, 'the
|
|
Schaefers.' She felt like crying as she regarded their obese
|
|
bodies and vapid faces. Outwardly, however, she smiled her most
|
|
seductive smile and - feeling like an absolute slut - gestured
|
|
for the two brothers to come forward. Her left hand crept up and
|
|
tweaked her nipple; an involuntary shudder of pleasure ran
|
|
through her body.
|
|
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad...
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
"The Schaefer's?" Karen burst out laughing. "That's great.
|
|
Just perfect."
|
|
"Not only that," Gary continued, "but I think that the
|
|
younger one has fallen in love with her. He's already asked her
|
|
out for the weekend." He was lounging back in his seat with his
|
|
feet up on his desk beside his computer.
|
|
"And?" The question came from Neil. He sat up beside Karen
|
|
on Gary's bed.
|
|
"Well, she accepted," Sharon answered. "For five dollars, of
|
|
course." The four teenagers burst out laughing.
|
|
"Wouldn't want them to think she was cheap, or anything like
|
|
that."
|
|
They were relaxing in Gary's bedroom, going over the updated
|
|
database on Stacy's "conquests" and entering new information.
|
|
Gary had been forced to add a new category for repeat
|
|
performances. At the top of the list was Tim Myers and Dennis
|
|
Baxter, two guys from Stacy's Recreation class; they had each
|
|
fucked her sixteen times.
|
|
"But the best part," Sharon continued as the laughter died
|
|
down, "was that he wanted to take her out in public; to a movie
|
|
of something."
|
|
This brought fresh laughter.
|
|
"So what did she do?" Karen asked. The normally shy girl was
|
|
beginning to feel more confident around these people. They were
|
|
her friends.
|
|
"What could she do? She came on all seductive and told him
|
|
how she would rather spend her time with him alone; in private,
|
|
so they could have more fun. So, he ended up inviting him to his
|
|
place for a little 'fun'."
|
|
Another round of laughter.
|
|
"So what about the latest round of pictures?" Neil asked a
|
|
few moments later. "The first set did pretty well. Any luck with
|
|
the new ones."
|
|
Gary smiled crookedly. "Oh yes," he answered. "'Cumshot'
|
|
magazine brought the entire series we shot with her sucking you
|
|
off. You're going to be famous; or at least your cock is going to
|
|
be famous."
|
|
Neil was impressed. "Cool."
|
|
"How much?" Sharon asked.
|
|
"Six hundred," Gary answered. "'Young Things' also bought
|
|
the set with her and the dildo. They'll also be publishing the
|
|
photos from the first set in this months' issue. That's another
|
|
$750 to split up. There's a couple others as well."
|
|
Karen looked on unbelieving as Gary began to split up the
|
|
money. She had only become involved in the group's activities
|
|
after the first set of pictures had been taken, and she had no
|
|
idea they were making so much money.
|
|
"Uh... guys?" She had an idea. "Maybe we can get Ashley
|
|
involved in this somehow. I could use some of that money."
|
|
Gary looked up at her. "Would she do it? Would she pose for
|
|
pictures?"
|
|
Karen thought for a moment. "Well, it might take some
|
|
convincing; particularly if she knows they're going to be
|
|
published..."
|
|
"Oh, don't tell her that," Sharon interrupted. "Stacy
|
|
doesn't know. We got her to sign a release one night while she
|
|
was high on Gary's drugs. All she knows is that we're taking the
|
|
pictures for our own use."
|
|
A slow grin began to creep across Karen's face. That was
|
|
possible... and she sure could use the money. "I'll see what I
|
|
can do."
|
|
Gary nodded, and went back to counting the money. The four
|
|
teenagers sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating their
|
|
profits.
|
|
"So," Neil said eventually. "What's this I hear about
|
|
another football party?"
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
NUMBER 37-49
|
|
Stacy blew into the whistle, signalling the end of the
|
|
Recreation class. At the "request" of a couple of her students
|
|
(ie. Tim & Dennis) and with the subsequent "encouragement" of
|
|
Sharon, she was dressed in an ultra-short tennis skirt which
|
|
barely reached four inches below the bottom curves of her ass.
|
|
She had been wearing this outfit to Rec class for the last few
|
|
weeks, and the male contingent of the class had been enjoying the
|
|
show, particularly when she had to bend down to pick up sports
|
|
equipment. At first, she had been mortified, and flushed red
|
|
every time she caught some of her students staring at her, but
|
|
after a while she learned to ignore the attention, or, at least,
|
|
live with it. It might not have been so bad if she had been
|
|
allowed to wear panties.
|
|
The class dispersed and Stacy wandered into the office space
|
|
set aside for the Rec instructors and began to prepare for Tim
|
|
and Dennis's inevitable visit. She had been fucking and sucking
|
|
them the both of them weekly ever since first term. Closing the
|
|
door behind her, Stacy walked quickly to her bag and pulled out a
|
|
thermos. She did not want to be caught before she could drug
|
|
herself with Gary's mixture. She knew it made her act like a
|
|
slut, but what else could she do? Sex without the drugs was
|
|
painful and humiliating; the drugs at least took care of the
|
|
pain.
|
|
Stacy opened the thermos and took a drink, grimacing at the
|
|
taste. Beer! She hated beer. During the last couple of months,
|
|
Gary had, for some reason, been varying the type of alcohol in
|
|
which he mixed the drugs. At first, it had always been scotch
|
|
whisky, but lately he had gone through vodka, gin, wine and now
|
|
beer. Stacy had wanted to ask why, but was too scared. Of her
|
|
three tormentors, Gary was by far the scariest. Sharon was a
|
|
sadistic bitch and thoroughly enjoyed dominating Stacy and Neil
|
|
was constantly forcing her to have sex with him, but there was
|
|
something weird about Gary. Something dangerous. It was best just
|
|
to do what he said and not ask questions.
|
|
She took another swallow of the beer and sat down on the
|
|
desk as the drugs began to take their desired effect. Slowly, but
|
|
inevitably, she felt the now familiar fog gradually envelop her
|
|
brain, disassociating herself from her body. Just as inevitably,
|
|
she felt the warm tingling begin in her groin and then spread
|
|
steadily upwards into her breasts. One more drink and then she
|
|
put the top back on the thermos; it was already over half empty,
|
|
and she still had a session with the Schaefer brothers later that
|
|
afternoon. Normally she wasn't worried about running out, but it
|
|
had been a busy day; Pat Saunders had fucked her up the ass in
|
|
the woods out behind the playing field on the way to school that
|
|
morning, and Neil had forced her to give him a blow job under a
|
|
desk in the Study Hall over lunch. Neither had counted. Just as
|
|
Tim and Dennis wouldn't count. Just as the Schaefer's wouldn't
|
|
count.
|
|
The feelings of arousal began to increase. She looked over
|
|
at the clock, impatient. What was keeping them? If they didn't
|
|
come soon, she would be late for the Schaefers. An involuntary
|
|
shudder of pleasure ran through her body at the thought of the
|
|
two obese brothers. They were disgustingly fat and stupid, but
|
|
they could sure fuck! Stacy hung her head in shame as she
|
|
remembered her slutty behaviour at their place last weekend, but
|
|
she couldn't help it. She was still being blackmailed by Gary and
|
|
his friends, and it was the drugs which made it possible for her
|
|
to carry out her orders. She couldn't help it if she was turning
|
|
into a slut. But the Schaefers...
|
|
Stacy glanced back up at the clock. Still no sign of the
|
|
boys. She reached down, hiked up her short skirt and began to rub
|
|
her fingers over her bare pussy...
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
"Have you seen Stacy?"
|
|
Gary looked at his watch and smirked.
|
|
"It's Friday," he answered. "She should be taking care of
|
|
the her Rec class 'students' right about now."
|
|
"Oh, right," Sharon nodded, feeling dumb. Stacy had been
|
|
having afternoon fuck sessions with those two guys in her class
|
|
for months now. She would have to call her later.
|
|
"Well, how about Karen?" she asked. "I've got to confirm
|
|
things for the football party next weekend. She has to make sure
|
|
Ashley is available."
|
|
"I haven't... oh, there she is."
|
|
Gary pointed towards the far end of the hallway. Karen had
|
|
just come around the corner, followed closely by Ashley. The two
|
|
girls seemed to be having something of an argument. Ashley seemed
|
|
to be almost in tears about something. A few seconds later, Karen
|
|
said something and pointed towards a side room - the biology lab.
|
|
Ashley shook her head at first, but complied a few moments later,
|
|
entering the room. Karen followed, shutting the door behind her.
|
|
Sharon started walking down the hall towards the room, but
|
|
Gary grabbed her arm and steered her to a different door.
|
|
"What are you doing?"
|
|
"There's a storage room with a small window leading into the
|
|
biology lab," he explained. "We can get into it through here." He
|
|
led her across a different classroom and through a doorway in the
|
|
rear.
|
|
"Let's see what's happening."
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
Mr. Edgar wandered about, confused and lost in the seemingly
|
|
endless maze of narrow hallways behind the school gymnasium. As a
|
|
math teacher, he had found little reason to venture into this
|
|
part of the school in the past, and he was having more than a
|
|
little difficulty trying to locate Mr. Sprauge, the football
|
|
coach. The two teachers were in the course of their yearly
|
|
argument regarding academic eligibility and certain members of
|
|
the football team. This year, Sprauge was particularly upset
|
|
about the failure of his star receiver to successfully complete
|
|
Mr. Edgar's remedial math course, and was making life difficult
|
|
for the entire faculty. Edgar was willing to compromise, but he
|
|
had to find the football coach first.
|
|
The portly teacher came to a short hallway which ended in a
|
|
closed door. It looked like an office. He ambled down it and,
|
|
hoping to find someone to help him out, pushed open the door. He
|
|
poked his head in to look around and his jaw dropped open with
|
|
amazement. Sitting on the edge of the desk was Stacy Richards;
|
|
the beautiful, blonde Stacy Richards who had done so well in his
|
|
math class last term (highest marks ever!). The Stacy Richards
|
|
who had sat in the front row of the class each Monday, Wednesday
|
|
and Friday morning, with her golden blonde hair and her angelic
|
|
green eyes...
|
|
She wasn't looking quite so angelic now.
|
|
She had hiked up her short, white skirt, exposing her naked
|
|
crotch and was busily rubbing her left hand up and down over her
|
|
pussy lips. Mr. Edgar could see moisture glistening in the thatch
|
|
of blonde pussy hair. As he watched, she bunched three fingers
|
|
together and began to slide them in and out of her wet pussy. Her
|
|
right hand was similarly occupied with her breasts, which were
|
|
more or less fully exposed through the unfastened buttons of her
|
|
blouse. She alternately cupped, squeezed and pinched her tits,
|
|
paying particular attention to the firm nipples. Stacy's head was
|
|
thrown back, her eyes closed and her slightly lips parted as she
|
|
masturbated.
|
|
The shocked math teacher froze, paralysed with indecision.
|
|
What to do? Should he rush in and put a stop to this outrageous
|
|
behaviour? His mind said yes, but his quickly hardening cock
|
|
argued otherwise. This situation could easily be mis-interpreted;
|
|
the wave of politically correct hysteria presently sweeping
|
|
through the schools could see him losing his position as a
|
|
teacher at even the slightest hint of impropriety. Best not to go
|
|
in, he decided. He could also slip away quietly, ignoring the
|
|
incident altogether. His timid nature preferred this course of
|
|
action, but he found that he was unable to draw himself away from
|
|
his viewpoint in the doorway. He watched as Stacy brought herself
|
|
closer and closer to an orgasm. What should he do? Best to slip
|
|
away quietly, he finally decided.
|
|
Mr. Edgar turned to leave, but just as he did, he heard
|
|
footsteps behind him moving closer. Sounded like students.
|
|
Caught! Panicked, he looked around; there was nowhere to go
|
|
except...
|
|
Stacy felt the pleasure from her masturbation just begin to
|
|
crest over into an orgasm when she heard a noise at the door. It
|
|
must be Tim and Dennis. Despite her situation, she found herself
|
|
welcoming their presence. She was so hot...
|
|
She opened her eyes. OMIGOD!! It was Mr. Edgar, the math
|
|
teacher. All feelings of arousal fled instantly as she froze in
|
|
shock. What was he doing here? How long had he been watching? Had
|
|
he seen...
|
|
Recovering the power of movement, she quickly allowed her
|
|
short skirt to fall down over her crotch, and - wiping her hand
|
|
on her skirt to clear away the pussy juices - she pulled shut her
|
|
blouse.
|
|
She watched as Mr. Edgar quickly shut the door behind
|
|
himself and moved uncertainly towards her, his face flushed. He
|
|
looked angry, or... something.
|
|
"M-mr. Edgar," she stammered, "I... I didn't know t-that..."
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
Gary, moving slowly and quietly, brought his face up the
|
|
small window set in the door between the biology lab class and
|
|
the science storeroom. He peered through, and, a few seconds
|
|
later, gestured for Sharon to join him at the window. Inside the
|
|
biology lab, Karen and Ashley were talking, maybe arguing. Ashley
|
|
was standing on one side of the room with her arms crossed in
|
|
front of her, looking away from Karen, who was leaning up against
|
|
a lab table on the other side of the room. Gary and Sharon could
|
|
just hear their voices, but they were unable to make out any
|
|
words, as the thick door effectively muffled the sound.
|
|
Ashley sounded angry. From where they watched, the two
|
|
observers could see tears in her eyes. The beautiful brunette
|
|
turned briefly to spit something out at Karen and then turned
|
|
away again. Karen, on the other hand, was speaking slowly and
|
|
soothingly; she seemed to be repeating herself over and over
|
|
again.
|
|
"What's going on?" Sharon whispered. "What are they fighting
|
|
about?"
|
|
Gary shrugged. "Something about boys, I think. Karen's
|
|
telling her not to do something."
|
|
A few second later, Karen straightened up and walked across
|
|
the room towards the older girl. Ashley turned away, hiding
|
|
behind a curtain of thick, reddish-brown hair, but Karen put her
|
|
hand on the taller girl's shoulder and slowly turned her around.
|
|
Ashley was crying now, her eyes red and swollen. She dropped
|
|
her hands to her sides and said one word. Gary couldn't hear it,
|
|
but he understood well enough: "please."
|
|
Karen slowly brought her hand up to the other girl's cheek
|
|
and brushed away a tear. Ashley flinched, but did not pull away.
|
|
They stood like this for a few moments, Ashley crying quietly and
|
|
Karen tenderly running her fingers up and down the other girl's
|
|
cheek.
|
|
Then, slowly, Karen slipped her hand behind Ashley's head
|
|
and brought her face down to meet her own in a kiss. The two
|
|
girl's lips met...
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
The math teacher cast around for something to say or do, but
|
|
his tongue seemed frozen, thick and useless in his mouth. All he
|
|
could think of was the picture Stacy had presented a few moments
|
|
ago as he had spied upon her masturbating. Now, she was cringing
|
|
away from him, eyes wide with fear. What was he going to do? If
|
|
someone caught him in this position he would lose his job for
|
|
sure.
|
|
Taking a deep breath, he gathered himself to speak. After
|
|
all, he reasoned, he was the teacher here. He was not the one who
|
|
had been caught doing something wrong. Her behaviour merited
|
|
expulsion, at the very least. He had a responsibility! Why, it
|
|
could have been one of the younger students who had stumbled
|
|
across the little slut rather than a mature adult such as
|
|
himself! This was a serious matter indeed.
|
|
He opened his mouth to speak...
|
|
|
|
Stacy watched apprehensively as a number of expressions
|
|
flitted across the Edgar's jowled face. He was beet red and
|
|
trembling, but she could see that he was working himself up into
|
|
a rage. In a moment, he would open his mouth and she would be
|
|
finished at Greenwood.
|
|
"Miss Richards," he said at last, his voiced choking
|
|
slightly. "I'm afraid I have n-no choice but to report this
|
|
incident to the principal."
|
|
Stacy sagged back against the desk. That was it; she was
|
|
screwed now. She almost burst into tears. To be caught now, after
|
|
all this time...
|
|
"This sort of behaviour is not to be tolerated on the
|
|
schoolgrounds... or anywhere, for that matter. If someone else
|
|
had walked in..."
|
|
Stacy looked up at him as he continued to rant: the rumpled
|
|
tweed suit; the thick grey mustache; the short, fat body... One
|
|
chance. She glanced over at the thermos sitting near her on the
|
|
desk, but there was no time for it.
|
|
"Mr. Edgar," she interrupted, slipping her tits out from
|
|
under her blouse and cupping them upwards towards him. The
|
|
teacher stopped talking and stared at her, eyes bulging.
|
|
"Do you like what you see?" Her voice was low and throaty as
|
|
she tried to sound seductive.
|
|
Mr. Edgar could only stammer as he watched the beautiful
|
|
teenage student cup and massage her firm young titties for him.
|
|
Such beautiful tits! He felt himself being drawn in as she
|
|
straightened up and began walking towards him. It had been so
|
|
long!
|
|
His hands itched to reach out and feel...
|
|
|
|
Stacy's confidence began to return as she watched his
|
|
reactions. The math teacher had now stopped his attempts to speak
|
|
and was staring intently at her breasts as she massaged them.
|
|
Continuing to speak in a soft, seductive voice, she moved slowly
|
|
towards him.
|
|
"I bet you'd like to touch them," she invited. "They're
|
|
your, if you like." By this time, she was directly in front of
|
|
him. She pushed her tits upwards, offering them to him. 'Please'
|
|
she thought, 'please take them.'
|
|
Slowly, his hands reached up and took hold of the offered
|
|
tits. Stacy moved her hands away as he began knead them. Despite
|
|
the fact that she felt no arousal (the previous effect of the
|
|
drugs had fled completely), she forced herself to moan and writhe
|
|
as though his hands on her tits was getting her hot.
|
|
In fact, nothing of the sort was happening, but she couldn't
|
|
let him know that. Without the drugs, the humiliation of the
|
|
situation was almost overwhelming, but she couldn't give into it;
|
|
she was fighting for her life at Greenwood, and she would do
|
|
anything to keep Edgar from reporting her. She was going to give
|
|
him the fuck of his life!
|
|
|
|
Dennis grumbled angrily at his friend Tim as he ran across
|
|
the now empty gymnasium. If he hadn't wasted his time waiting for
|
|
the jerk, he would be with Stacy now. As it was, Tim had not
|
|
bothered to inform Dennis of the fact that he had a doctor's
|
|
appointment after class, and wouldn't be able to make their
|
|
weekly meeting with the bitch. Dennis would have to go on his
|
|
own.
|
|
Dennis slowed to a walk as he entered the passageway which
|
|
led to the instructor's room. He hoped Stacy was still waiting.
|
|
She'd better be. He saw as he approached that the door was open a
|
|
crack; he pushed it open and peered inside.
|
|
Stacy was there, alright, but she wasn't waiting. She was
|
|
perched, straddling, over Mr. Edgar (THE MATH TEACHER!) as he sat
|
|
behind the desk. Stacy was facing outward, with her back towards
|
|
the sweating teacher, so Dennis had an unobstructed view of her
|
|
cunt as it slid up and down on Edgar's erect penis. He also had
|
|
an unobstructed view of Stacy as she propelled herself up and
|
|
down: her flushed, vacant face; her hands, one furiously mauling
|
|
her exposed tits, which were already red and splotchy from abuse,
|
|
and the other bent over her shoulder and wrapped around Edgar's
|
|
neck to steady herself; her long, sleek legs, only partially
|
|
hidden by the short gym-skirt, alternately flexing and relaxing
|
|
as they moved her sleek body up and down on the math teacher's
|
|
impaling cock.
|
|
She began to make small moaning sounds as she moved. A thin
|
|
line of drool escaped from between her pouty lips and glistened
|
|
on her chin as she squirmed and wriggled in lustful abandonment.
|
|
Beads of sweat...
|
|
"What's going on?"
|
|
Dennis tore himself away from the activities in the small
|
|
room and turned to see Ted Reed, a fellow member of the Rec
|
|
class. Ha! Grinning, Dennis put his fingers to his lips and
|
|
gestured for the newcomer to put his eye to the crack in the
|
|
door. Ted did so and almost chocked with surprise.
|
|
Stacy seemed to be just mounting the crest of an intense
|
|
orgasm. She stiffened up and leaned back, lifting her legs from
|
|
the floor and bouncing energetically on the invading penis as it
|
|
squelched in and out of her gobbling pussy. Behind her, Mr. Edgar
|
|
grabbed her tits and held on tightly as she thrashed and wriggled
|
|
her pleasure. Moments later, he too came, shooting his load
|
|
straight into her sopping cunt.
|
|
"Christ!"
|
|
Ted's mouth hung open as he watched the action. He was
|
|
frozen in the doorway as Stacy slipped off the exhausted
|
|
teacher's lap and slid to her knees in front of him. Brushing her
|
|
blonde hair back from her face, she slipped her mouth over his
|
|
now-flaccid cock and began sucking it clean. Mr. Edgar could only
|
|
sit there and moan softly as the teenaged slut gently lapped at
|
|
his penis and balls.
|
|
Then, the inevitable happened. Unable to contain himself,
|
|
Ted coughed. Stacy jerked her mouth away from the teacher's cock,
|
|
banging her head against the underside of the desk. Mr. Edgar
|
|
sprang to his feet, surprisingly limber for a man of his bulk,
|
|
and rushed out of the room, his face beet red and his pants still
|
|
down around his ankles. Ted saw him coming and stepped aside, but
|
|
Dennis was bowled over as Mr. Edgar rushed down the hallway and
|
|
out of sight.
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
The kiss lasted for a long time. When it finally broke,
|
|
Ashley was no longer crying, but, rather, had a strange look on
|
|
her face. She stared at her blackmailer, eyes wide and lips
|
|
slightly parted. Staring back, Karen brought her other hand up
|
|
and slipped it under Ashley's blouse and up to her tits. Ashley
|
|
tried to pull away, but Karen held her close. Karen began to
|
|
massage Ashley's breasts under her blouse. The other girl began
|
|
to tremble, but did not protest.
|
|
Again, Karen drew Ashley down for a kiss. This time, Gary
|
|
thought he saw Ashley parted her lips in anticipation, but he
|
|
couldn't be sure.
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
Stacy crouched on her knees, trying to remain silent as she
|
|
hid under the desk. A thin trickle of sperm seeped out of her
|
|
cunt and began to run down her leg, but she ignored it. Who was
|
|
it? What had they seen? Furiously, she tried to do up the buttons
|
|
of her blouse and straighten out her short skirt. Her heart
|
|
almost stopped as she heard footsteps coming around the front of
|
|
the desk. A face appeared: Dennis! Stacy trembled with relief;
|
|
thank god it was someone who already knew about her.
|
|
She started to back out from under the desk, but Dennis
|
|
gestured for her to remain where she was. What was going on? She
|
|
froze again as another set of footsteps crossed the room. Tim? It
|
|
must be... No, it wasn't. Another boy... it was Ted Reed, another
|
|
of her students, sat down in the same chair Mr. Edgar had
|
|
occupied a few moments earlier.
|
|
"Go ahead," she heard Dennis say. "She loves to suck."
|
|
Stacy flushed with anger. That asshole! She started to back
|
|
out again, but then stopped as Ted pulled his rock-hard cock out
|
|
of his pants. She stared at it; Ted was a student at Greenwood;
|
|
he counted against her quota.
|
|
"C'mon, slut," Dennis ordered. He bent down and slapped her
|
|
hard on her exposed ass. "I promised my friend here a blowjob."
|
|
Stacy gritted her teeth and tried in vain to recapture any
|
|
vestige of the arousal she had been experiencing a few moments
|
|
earlier with the math teacher, but there was nothing left. The
|
|
intense orgasm along with the shock of being discovered seemed
|
|
once again to have burned away the effects of drug. She thought
|
|
longingly of the thermos sitting on top the desk; she had been
|
|
lucky enough to get a swallow from it while Edgar had pulled down
|
|
his pants, but it didn't look like she was going to get the
|
|
chance here.
|
|
"Stacy." Dennis leaned over and looked at her from the front
|
|
of the desk, "I don't have to make any threats, do I?"
|
|
Groaning her disgust, Stacy leaned forward and slipped her
|
|
delicate fingers around the teenager's cock. Ted gasped and
|
|
tensed up as her pink tongue flicked out and began licking the
|
|
head. Her other hand went down to her cunt and began rubbing,
|
|
trying to get herself hot enough to tolerate what she was going
|
|
to have to do. Once again, she thought longingly about the
|
|
thermos, but knew that even if she could get to it, she should
|
|
save it for later on. She was due at the Schaefer's later that
|
|
afternoon.
|
|
She slipped her experienced lips over Ted's leaking cock and
|
|
began to suck in earnest. This shouldn't take her too long.
|
|
Behind her, Dennis began to play with her ass...
|
|
|
|
END PART EIGHT
|
|
=================================================================
|
|
|
|
- I hope you enjoyed it. If you have any comments, I would be more
|
|
than happy to receive them (although all story requests are still
|
|
referred to the mail server I mentioned in the previous episodes).
|
|
As well, if anyone wishes to discuss the possibilty of exchanging some
|
|
stories, I would be more than happy to do so.
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Cheers,
|
|
--
|
|
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org
|
|
|
|
Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side? And hain't that a big
|
|
enough majority in any town? --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"
|
|
|
|
From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 04:00:22
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:02:22 +0100
|
|
Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
|
|
Subject: Repost: PARKER: Stacy's Senior Year 5/10 (mf, nc)
|
|
Message-ID: <2272377@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
|
|
Hello,
|
|
|
|
this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
|
|
requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
|
|
Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
|
|
email to you. If you want it, save it now.
|
|
|
|
MINI-FAQ:
|
|
|
|
- Please post stories only to this group. If you are fed up with other
|
|
people posting crap here, consider sending them a friendly, short message
|
|
telling them that they are breaching the charter of this group, and that
|
|
they should take their talk to another, more suitable group.
|
|
|
|
- Ignore stupid and offensive posts, ala "AOL r00lz/sucks", "<het|gay>
|
|
off this group", etc. pp. Rest assured that other people find this as
|
|
offensive as you do - no need to point it out to everybody. Chances are
|
|
that it was a troll, anyways. If you must vent some steam, send email,
|
|
post to alt.sex.stories.d, or forward the offending post to the person's
|
|
postmaster.
|
|
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
Subject: STORY: Stacy05
|
|
From: an31072@anon.penet.fi
|
|
Date: Sat, 28 Aug 1993 16:21:52 UTC
|
|
|
|
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
|
|
(PART FIVE)
|
|
By Parker
|
|
|
|
WARNING: This story contains blackmail, humiliation, non-
|
|
consensual sex, D&S and all that sort of good stuff
|
|
(although not, of course, in every instalment). This story
|
|
is NOT POLITICALLY CORRECT! If you do not want to read this
|
|
sort of material, stop NOW, before it is TOO late! You have
|
|
been warned.
|
|
- This is part five of a ten-part series. If you can count,
|
|
you should know what this means.
|
|
|
|
Oh, I guess I should also mention that this story is
|
|
copyright 1993 by me (Parker). Not that there's a whole
|
|
heck of a lot I am going to do about it, I suppose.
|
|
Feel free to distribute it wherever and whenever you
|
|
like. I would appreciate it, however, if you would
|
|
leave it unchanged, and leave the attribution (I want
|
|
all the credit/blame). That's all.
|
|
|
|
- One final thing: I'm only posting this once. I have,
|
|
however, been informed that a mail-server is picking it up. Just
|
|
send mail to laff@sal.cs.uiuc.edu with "Filesend: help" in the body
|
|
of the message.
|
|
- BTW, thanks for all the comments and suggestions. The entire
|
|
series will be posted over the next couple of weeks.
|
|
|
|
=================================================================
|
|
|
|
NUMBER NINE:
|
|
Randy Marx stared down in disbelief as Stacy Richards sucked
|
|
hungrily on his cock as it jutted out of his pants; her mouth
|
|
made loud slurping noises as it worked its way up and down. He
|
|
was standing in the woods behind Greenwood High, just out of
|
|
sight of the main school building. Stacy, now on her knees in
|
|
front of him, had met him after class and had asked if he would
|
|
go with her into the woods; she wanted to show him something, she
|
|
had said. Randy, who like most of the boys at school only knew
|
|
Stacy as an object of unattainable beauty, had stammered
|
|
something in the affirmative, and the two of them had left the
|
|
school together after the final class. As soon as they had gone a
|
|
little ways into the forest, just out of sight of the school,
|
|
Stacy had turned to him, reached down and begun fondling his
|
|
penis through his pants. Randy, frozen with surprise, had just
|
|
watched in stunned silence as she sank to her knees in front of
|
|
him. The charm bracelet on her wrist jingled quietly as she
|
|
fumbled with his zipper.
|
|
"W-what are you doing?" What was she doing?
|
|
"P-please, Randy." She had looked up at him with her big,
|
|
green eyes. "I... I want your cock." Her voice was a hoarse
|
|
whisper, and she looked like she might cry.
|
|
Randy couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stared down
|
|
at her, as if seeing her for the first time.
|
|
"What?"
|
|
"I w-want your... cock," she repeated haltingly. Her fingers
|
|
continued their work while she spoke. His penis was now free of
|
|
his pants and hung down in front of Stacy's face.
|
|
"I want to suck your cock." She turned her head back down
|
|
and began licking his quickly hardening penis.
|
|
Randy just swallowed and fell silent as Stacy got to work.
|
|
He looked around, frightened of getting caught, but there was no
|
|
one in sight. His gaze dropped downward, where Stacy was
|
|
servicing his cock. First she licked and kissed it, starting
|
|
with the head and then working her soft, warm lips down the
|
|
shaft. Then, when it was rigid (no time at all, really), she
|
|
slipped her hot mouth over the shiny head and began sucking, all
|
|
the while bobbing her head up and down. From where he looked down
|
|
on her, Randy could only see her blonde hair sliding back and
|
|
forth, but he could hear the slurping and gurgling sounds which
|
|
accompanied the movement, and he could feel - oh god, how he
|
|
could feel - the inside of her mouth and throat as it quivered
|
|
and sucked around his trembling penis.
|
|
Finally, he could take it no more, and began to come.
|
|
Instinctively, he grabbed the back of her head and pulled it
|
|
tight against his crotch, jamming his cock right down into her
|
|
throat as the sperm began to shoot out. Stacy struggled and
|
|
choked; her hands fluttered about wildly, pushing against his
|
|
legs, but she was unable to break his grip. Stacy's face remained
|
|
crushed against his crotch, her mouth and throat stuffed with
|
|
cock, until he finished coming. Eventually, the spurts began to
|
|
lessen, and his penis grew soft. Randy relaxed his hold, and she
|
|
pushed herself away, gasping and choking up the sperm. Suddenly
|
|
embarrassed, Randy did up his pants, turned and ran away into the
|
|
woods.
|
|
Behind him, Stacy lay on the ground, still choking up sperm
|
|
and gasping for breath.
|
|
|
|
*******
|
|
|
|
The Greenwood school cafeteria was its usual noisy chaos,
|
|
with students running madly about, trying to fit in as much
|
|
eating and socializing before the bell went off to announce the
|
|
inevitable beginning of the afternoon classes. The main section
|
|
of the cafeteria was filled with rows of connected benches and
|
|
tables, where the students ate their lunches. The actual kitchen
|
|
and serving area was located along one of the walls; the students
|
|
picked up a tray at one end, and ran it along a metal track while
|
|
making their selections. The food was paid for at the other end
|
|
and a short section of railing led to the main part of the room.
|
|
Karen Williamson stood, tray in hand, looking for a place to
|
|
sit. Her options were limited; the sitting areas were essentially
|
|
run by the various school cliques, and Karen absolutely did not
|
|
belong to any particular group. As a matter of fact, she was
|
|
commonly the object of derision of many of these groups. It was
|
|
not that she was particularly ugly, although she was a bit on the
|
|
heavy side and had something of an acne problem, or that she was
|
|
antisocial. Her isolation stemmed from a discussion in one of
|
|
last year's Social Studies classes. In a "Current Events" module,
|
|
the class had been discussing some recent controversies
|
|
concerning homosexual rights. Karen had been arguing in support
|
|
of those rights and had, in the heat of the debate, let slip the
|
|
fact that she herself was gay. Word had quickly spread, and
|
|
before long she was virtually an outcast at Greenwood. She had
|
|
quickly learned that if one is going to come out of the closet, a
|
|
high-school class is just not the place to do it. Her life had
|
|
been hell ever since.
|
|
Desperately lonely, Karen had hoped that things would have
|
|
blown over by this, her senior, year, but that hadn't proved to
|
|
be the case. In fact, the abuse had even gotten worse. Just last
|
|
week, she had found her locker plastered with pictures of naked
|
|
women torn from a Penthouse magazine with the words "Dykes
|
|
Anonymous" scrawled all over them. As a result of these and
|
|
similar events, Karen had largely withdrawn from school social
|
|
life, and now spent much of her time alone, often drinking (an
|
|
activity which had helped neither her weight nor her acne
|
|
problem). In fact, she had been drinking the previous night, and
|
|
was now suffering from rather a bad hangover; this probably
|
|
explained her lapse in judgment in choosing and sitting down at a
|
|
table near the back of the room.
|
|
Even before the table fell ominously silent, she knew that
|
|
she had made a mistake. A bad one. She looked up from her tray to
|
|
see who she was sitting with. Across from her sat Stacy Richards
|
|
and Ashley Peters, easily the two most popular girls in school.
|
|
The rest of the now-silent table was filled with students of an
|
|
equally exalted social level.
|
|
"Well!" Ashley took the lead, as she always did in making
|
|
fun of Karen. "Aren't we lucky. A visit from the school dyke!"
|
|
Karen flinched as Ashley's cutting voice drew attention. The
|
|
other students at the table were smiling and laughing, knowing
|
|
what was coming.
|
|
"What's wrong? No other dykes to eat with... or eat?"
|
|
Ashley's voice was getting louder. Students at nearby tables were
|
|
now looking over and joining in the laughter. Her face burning,
|
|
Karen stumbled to her feet and fled the table, leaving her tray
|
|
of food behind.
|
|
"Come back anytime," Ashley called after her. "Feel free to
|
|
bring your girlfriend." The entire section the cafeteria was
|
|
laughing now, as Karen, now in tears, burst through the exit and
|
|
disappeared from view.
|
|
At a table near the door, Gary and Sharon watched her run
|
|
out. Silently, they exchanged glances and looked over at Ashley
|
|
as she laughed with her friends. Stacy laughed right along with
|
|
them.
|
|
*******
|
|
|
|
Tim smirked across the room at Dennis; the class was almost
|
|
over. The two thirteen year-old boys had barely been able to
|
|
restrain themselves during that afternoon's Recreation Class. Due
|
|
to the colder weather, the class was once again taking place
|
|
inside the gymnasium, and they had spent the entire period
|
|
watching Stacy as she supervised the other students. At this
|
|
particular moment, she was demonstrating volleyball techniques to
|
|
a group of girls in the corner. She was wearing baggy shorts
|
|
which came down to her knees and a loose sweatshirt, but that did
|
|
not deter the boys from imagining what was underneath. So far,
|
|
she had managed to avoid them, but Tim had plans to deal with
|
|
that.
|
|
Finally, the bell rang, signalling the end of class.
|
|
"OK, everybody," Stacy yelled, clapping her hands for
|
|
attention. "Into the dressing rooms. That's it for today." While
|
|
the rest of the kids ran into the dressing rooms as directed, Tim
|
|
and Dennis jogged over to where Stacy was bent over, putting away
|
|
equipment. She straightened up as they approached.
|
|
"Yes?" She asked coldly. "What do you want?" She didn't seem
|
|
happy to see them.
|
|
Embarrassed, Dennis turned to go, but Tim caught his arm
|
|
before he could get away. "That's not very friendly," he stated.
|
|
"You were a lot nicer last week." He was smirking again.
|
|
"That was last week," Stacy told him angrily. "Don't expect
|
|
it to happen again." She put her hands on her hips and glared at
|
|
them. "I don't expect to hear about it again from either of you.
|
|
Is that understood?"
|
|
Dennis flushed red and began to mutter an apology, but was
|
|
cut off by Tim.
|
|
"OK, you won't hear about it from us, then," he told her.
|
|
"You'll be hearing about it from Mr. Tilby, though."
|
|
The thirteen year-old grabbed his friend by the arm and
|
|
turned to go.
|
|
"Wait!" Stacy, no longer confident, called after them. Mr.
|
|
Tilby was the teacher in charge of the grade 12 supervisors.
|
|
"What do you mean?" She had a sick feeling that she already knew
|
|
the answer.
|
|
Tim turned and faced her. "We're going to tell Mr. Tilby
|
|
what happened. I bet he'll be interested."
|
|
Stacy felt her face flush with panic; Tilby would get her
|
|
expelled for sure!
|
|
"Unless..." Tim's voice was sly.
|
|
"Unless?" Stacy knew what was coming. Unconsciously, she
|
|
crossed her wrists in front of her and began fiddling with her
|
|
charm bracelet. There were now almost a dozen metal "F"s hanging
|
|
from it.
|
|
"Unless you become a lot more friendly," Tim finished off
|
|
his sentence. "Like last week."
|
|
Stacy looked at the two of them - Tim looking cocky and sure
|
|
of himself and Dennis looking both frightened and hopeful - and
|
|
shuddered. If she gave in, she would become in effect the private
|
|
whore of a couple of thirteen year-olds. But what else could she
|
|
do?
|
|
"If I agree," she said slowly, fighting back the tears,
|
|
"you'll keep quiet about it. No one else will know." Maybe she
|
|
could minimize the damage.
|
|
Tim grinned in triumph; they had her!
|
|
"OK. It'll be our little secret." A slow smile began to form
|
|
on Dennis's freckled face.
|
|
"And just this once," she bargained. "After that, I don't
|
|
hear about it again?"
|
|
Tim began to nod, flushed with success and ready to agree to
|
|
anything, but this time it was Dennis who did the interrupting.
|
|
"Once a week," he told her. "After class on Fridays." Stacy's
|
|
mouth fell open and she shook her head.
|
|
"OK." Dennis shrugged and turned to Tim. "Let's see Tilby."
|
|
He started walking, pulling an astonished Tim behind him.
|
|
This time, the two boys actually managed to get a few steps away
|
|
before Stacy called them back. Trembling, she agreed to their
|
|
demands; there was no way she could let them go to Tilby.
|
|
Ten minutes later, she was stretched out naked on a pile of
|
|
stored gym mats, with Dennis pumping his thirteen year-old cock
|
|
in and out of her pussy while Tim waited his turn. The two boys
|
|
had wanted her naked this time, and she had had no choice but to
|
|
slip out of the shorts and sweatshirt. She grunted in time with
|
|
Dennis's thrusts and moaned as he mauled her tits, but did not
|
|
fight or cry out as he spurted within her.
|
|
She did, however, start crying when Tim crawled on top of
|
|
her to take his turn at sticking his cock into her now sopping
|
|
pussy.
|
|
|
|
*******
|
|
|
|
With the footlights shining bright and hot directly upwards
|
|
into her face, the men in the audience - she instinctively knew
|
|
that they were men - were visible only as vague outlines; dark
|
|
shapes and shadows which seemed to shift and pulse in time with
|
|
the thick bass throb of the cheap rock music. She could hear the
|
|
quiet rumble of conversation from beyond the lights, but as the
|
|
dance began, the shapes fell silent. They almost appeared to lean
|
|
forward towards the stage, focusing intensely upon the actions of
|
|
the dancer.
|
|
On the precarious, well-lit catwalk, the dancer slid
|
|
forward, limbs writhing in time with the music. She wore almost
|
|
nothing: a pair of stiletto high-heels, black stockings, a
|
|
spangled, gold g-string and a pair of tassled pasties covering
|
|
her nipples. And a bright, shiny charm bracelet on one wrist. Her
|
|
tits, small and firm, bobbed up and down as she gyrated back and
|
|
forth across the small stage.
|
|
The music drew her forward; bit by bit, piece by piece, the
|
|
minimal clothing came off until, finally, she stood naked and
|
|
exposed before the watchers. The shapeless mass of the audience
|
|
was no longer silent, but was instead calling out what seemed to
|
|
be a name, over and over again. Dimly, the dancer sensed that she
|
|
should be frightened, but she wasn't. Instead, she began to
|
|
become more and more excited. Rubbing her breasts with one hand,
|
|
she began to pant and moan as the shouting grew louder. The
|
|
colored lights above her began to move... rotating wildly...
|
|
pulsing on and off. Her pussy was damp and inviting when she
|
|
inserted first her middle finger, and then middle three fingers.
|
|
Her excitement grew to the point of orgasm; the name chanted
|
|
by the audience became louder and louder... Suddenly, there was a
|
|
loud ringing sound, again and again as the lights sped up. She
|
|
tried to ignore it, concentrating on the swiftly approaching
|
|
orgasm, but it kept ringing and ringing... the hoarse chanting
|
|
became clearer until, abruptly, she could make out the name:
|
|
"Stacy!"
|
|
Stacy Richards sat bolt upright in bed, sweaty and
|
|
dishevelled. Her mother's voice had shouted out her name from the
|
|
bottom of the stairs. "Stacy. Answer your phone."
|
|
The phone beside the bed was ringing. Stacy glanced over at
|
|
the bedside clock: almost 10:30 - a bit early to be calling on a
|
|
Saturday. She reached over and picked up the phone.
|
|
"Hi Stace." It was Sharon. Of course.
|
|
Stacy fought back an urge to slam down the phone. "What do
|
|
you want?" she asked, fighting to contain her anger.
|
|
"Just to tell you that we're going out tonight; girl's night
|
|
out." Sharon sounded pleased with herself.
|
|
"What are you talking about?" Stacy fought to clear her head
|
|
of the last vestiges of sleep.
|
|
"There's a party at BCN tonight," Sharon explained. "We're
|
|
going." BCN stood for Bakersville College North. At the time the
|
|
campus was opened, there was a planned second campus to be built
|
|
south of the town, but that had never occurred. The one college
|
|
was still, however, called "North".
|
|
"I can't do that," Stacy argued, fighting down a sudden
|
|
surge of panic. "I'm... uhm... busy tonight."
|
|
"Do I have to make threats?" Sharon asked. "You know what
|
|
your options are. Besides, you might enjoy yourself."
|
|
Stacy sighed with resignation. She knew very well that she
|
|
would have to agree with whatever Sharon said. If not, she would
|
|
be ruined at Greenwood. "OK," she muttered. "I'll be there."
|
|
"Fine." Sharon was matter of fact; she had expected nothing
|
|
else. "Come to my place at 7:00. Oh... we'll be out all night;
|
|
tell your mother that you'll be spending the night at a friend's
|
|
house." The line went dead as Sharon hung up before Stacy could
|
|
reply or protest.
|
|
Slowly, Stacy put the receiver down and ran a shaky hand
|
|
through her matted hair. Only then did she notice that her body
|
|
was covered with a sheen of sweat. The dream! She pushed back the
|
|
covers and looked down on her body: her nipples were firm and
|
|
erect and her pussy was slightly damp. Could that dream really
|
|
have been exciting her? All she remembered was being naked... and
|
|
all those men were watching! She placed a finger on her clit and
|
|
began to rub, moaning softly. Just the memory of the dream was
|
|
exciting! What was happening to her? Despite her confusion, she
|
|
continued to masturbate herself, quickly bringing herself to
|
|
climax.
|
|
Just as the orgasm died away, the phone rang again. She
|
|
picked it up.
|
|
"Hello?" It was Barry Packard. Just what she needed. She had
|
|
noticed that he was trying to talk to her at school, but she had
|
|
managed to avoid him successfully ever since they had fucked a
|
|
couple of weeks ago in the front seat of his car.
|
|
"Hi Stacy," he greeted her. She remained silent.
|
|
"Uhm... I was just wondering if you wanted to... like, you
|
|
know... go out tonight, or something."
|
|
"Are you kidding," she laughed. "I wouldn't be caught dead
|
|
with a loser like you." All of her frustration and anger at what
|
|
had happened to her in the last couple of weeks flowed out of her
|
|
heart and down the phone lines.
|
|
"B-but... I thought... what about what happened on..."
|
|
"What happened in your car was a joke," she told him.
|
|
"You've got to be the worst fuck I've ever had." It felt a little
|
|
strange talking like that, but on the whole, it was good to be on
|
|
the giving end of some abuse rather than on the receiving end.
|
|
Besides, he was such a loser!
|
|
"B-but..."
|
|
"I don't want to hear about it, and I don't want to see or
|
|
hear from you again. Just fuck off!"
|
|
Stacy slammed down the phone. That had felt good! Almost
|
|
like her old self. Cheered up, she got out of bed and went into
|
|
the bathroom for a shower.
|
|
|
|
*********
|
|
|
|
As ordered, Stacy arrived at Sharon's house promptly at 7:00
|
|
that evening. Sharon's mother, a large, bleary-eyed woman
|
|
answered the door.
|
|
"Is Sharon here?" Stacy asked timidly. The woman smelt of
|
|
beer and stale cigarette smoke.
|
|
The woman took a drag from her cigarette and gestured Stacy
|
|
inside. Stacy walked into the house.
|
|
"Sharon!" Sharon's mom was yelling down a flight of stairs.
|
|
"Your little friend's here." She turned back to Stacy. "Go right
|
|
on down. She's in her room."
|
|
Stacy smiled weakly in thanks and walked down the stairs
|
|
into the basement.
|
|
"In here." Sharon's voice came from behind a closed door at
|
|
one end of a short hall. Stacy pushed the door open and entered
|
|
Sharon's bedroom. The pudgy girl was talking on the phone; she
|
|
waved at Stacy to come in and sit down.
|
|
"... Yes... I know. At the agreed price. I know... uh huh...
|
|
it's just for private use. Nothing else." Stacy sat on the edge
|
|
of Sharon's bed, careful not to disturb a pile of dirty clothing.
|
|
"No, that's fine. Yeah... as long as they don't mind... OK."
|
|
Sharon hung up the phone and turned to Stacy.
|
|
"Well," she said, smirking, "let's have a look at you. Stand
|
|
up." Blushing, Stacy stood up. She was wearing a blue skirt which
|
|
fell below her knees and a yellow blouse. Her blonde hair was
|
|
done up in a tight, little bun at the back of her head. Sharon
|
|
shook her head as she looked the older girl over. "Huh," she
|
|
grunted. "That's not gonna do." She got up and moved towards the
|
|
closet. "Let's try these on." She pulled out a duffel bag and
|
|
handed it to Stacy.
|
|
Stacy took one look inside and dropped the bag. "I can't
|
|
wear these. Not in public."
|
|
Sharon just smiled and lit a cigarette. "Every time," she rolled her
|
|
eyes theatrically. "Every time
|
|
we go through this same game. First you say you can't do
|
|
something. Then we threaten to release the tape and the pictures.
|
|
Then, suddenly, you can do it." She looked over at Stacy. "Is all
|
|
that really necessary?"
|
|
Stacy looked down at the duffel bag and began to tremble.
|
|
She fought back the tears.
|
|
"Please..." How could they do this to her?
|
|
Sharon wasn't moved.
|
|
"Put these on, you bitch," she ordered, suddenly angry.
|
|
"You'll wear them tonight or by Monday night everyone in town
|
|
will know what a slut you are."
|
|
The videotape!
|
|
Reluctantly, Stacy reached down and picked up the duffel
|
|
bag.
|
|
|
|
Ten minutes later, she was changed and ready to go. The
|
|
central item of her new apparel was a black, patent leather
|
|
skirt, which reached only halfway down her thighs. The tight
|
|
skirt was fastened by a zipper on the side. ('For easy access,'
|
|
Sharon had commented.) On top, she now wore a bright pink spandex
|
|
shirt. The sleeveless blouse hugged her upper body tightly,
|
|
making the most of her smallish breasts. On her feet, she wore
|
|
black leather, high-heeled boots, which covered her lower legs
|
|
right up to her knees. Thin nylon stockings completed the
|
|
ensemble. As well, Sharon had combed out her blonde hair, so that
|
|
it fell in waves across her now bare shoulders. A little extra
|
|
make-up (applied by Sharon) and she looked like "a proper little
|
|
whore" (in Sharon's opinion).
|
|
Stacy fought to hold back the tears. She did feel like a
|
|
whore in this outfit.
|
|
|
|
The two girls drove up to the College in Stacy's car, but
|
|
with Sharon at the wheel. When they arrived, the party was
|
|
already in full swing, with music blasting raucously out of
|
|
partially opened windows. It was located in a large, old house,
|
|
which served as rental accommodation for students at BCN. Sharon
|
|
parked the car on the street opposite the house and looked over
|
|
at Stacy. The older girl sat stiffly, looking straight ahead, her
|
|
arms crossed in front of her chest.
|
|
"You're not going to have much fun with that attitude,"
|
|
Sharon chided. "You're too tense." Stacy didn't answer. Sharon
|
|
sighed theatrically and reached into her large purse.
|
|
"Here," she said, pulling out a small thermos. "Have a
|
|
drink. It'll relax you." She poured a small measure of whisky
|
|
into the thermos lid and passed it over to Stacy. The older girl
|
|
looked doubtful for a moment, sniffing suspiciously at the
|
|
liquid, but then shrugged her shoulders and drank it down. What
|
|
harm could it do? Almost immediately, she felt the warmth of the
|
|
alcohol in her stomach.
|
|
"One more?" Sharon asked. Stacy nodded quickly and held out
|
|
the cup for a second drink. Sharon poured, and Stacy once again
|
|
downed it. She felt much better already.
|
|
Sharon smiled as she took the cup back and screwed it back
|
|
onto the thermos. This was the same stuff that Gary had mixed
|
|
that had got Stacy so hot that night at Neil's. With any luck, it
|
|
should make things go a lot better tonight, particularly with a
|
|
double dose.
|
|
"Let's go."
|
|
Sharon opened the door and got out of the car. Stacy
|
|
followed, moving a little slower on the high heels. The drink was
|
|
beginning to go to her head a bit, she noticed. She felt a little
|
|
unsteady. The two girls walked up the gravel driveway towards the
|
|
house. Even from outside, the loud pulsing music made
|
|
conversation difficult; the whole building seemed to shake with
|
|
it. Sharon banged loudly on the door. Nothing. She banged again,
|
|
harder this time. A few moments later, a young man opened it and
|
|
peered drunkenly outward.
|
|
"Yeah?" His eyes quickly skimmed over Sharon, and came to
|
|
rest on Stacy's scantily clad body. Stacy shivered, only partly
|
|
from the cold as the man slowly looked her up and down. He liked
|
|
his lips.
|
|
"Is Jim in?" Sharon was forced to yell over the music. "Tell
|
|
him Sharon is here." The man at the door tore his eyes away from
|
|
Stacy long enough to acknowledge Sharon's words with a nod, and
|
|
then disappeared back into the house.
|
|
Sharon turned to Stacy who was still shivering on the porch.
|
|
"Remember," she said urgently. "This is a college party. Don't
|
|
start acting like a fucking kid. I have everything under
|
|
control."
|
|
Stacy started to ask what she meant by this, but the door
|
|
swung open and another man came out. This guy was huge; he looked
|
|
like a football player.
|
|
"Sharon," he called out. "Good to see you." His eyes turned,
|
|
inevitably, towards Stacy. "And you must be Stacy. Sharon's told
|
|
us a lot about you." Stacy knew that this sounded ominous, but
|
|
her brain was fogged up from the alcohol, and the drugs Gary had
|
|
added to it were starting to have an effect: her senses seemed
|
|
heightened, but her consciousness was starting to drift. A small
|
|
part of her mind recognized this feeling from that first night at
|
|
Neil's house, but she was unable to act on this knowledge. The
|
|
large man - Jim? - gestured for them to enter the house. Sharon
|
|
pushed Stacy through the door in front of her and then entered
|
|
herself.
|
|
Behind them, the door slammed shut.
|
|
|
|
Inside, the painfully loud music drowned out any possibility
|
|
of conversation. The foyer led to a short stairway which in turn
|
|
opened up into the main living room of the house. This room was
|
|
packed with sweating, dancing people, almost exclusively students
|
|
from BCN. The air was heavy with smoke, tobacco and other types.
|
|
Jim led the way through the crowd, pushing and shoving a
|
|
path through the drunken, jostling crowd. Sharon pulled Stacy
|
|
along by the arm, following in his wake. Stacy got a lot of
|
|
attention from the men in the room, and one guy even reached out
|
|
to squeeze her tits as they pressed through the tangle. She
|
|
squirmed away, and he was soon lost in the crush. To Stacy's
|
|
blurred perceptions, the trip across the crowded room was a
|
|
nightmare passage of smoke and noise, with the occasional leering
|
|
face thrust out at her through the haze. She was thankful when
|
|
they reached the comparative quiet of the kitchen, but this too
|
|
was fairly crowded, and Jim continued leading them along. They
|
|
passed through the kitchen, down a short hallway and, finally, to
|
|
a closed door.
|
|
Jim halted in front of that door and looked back at Sharon.
|
|
"Everything OK?" he asked, glancing at Stacy. Stacy looked
|
|
around wildly, beginning to panic. What was happening here?
|
|
Sharon pulled her head down and whispered into her ear.
|
|
"These are my friends," she hissed. "Keep them happy. If you're
|
|
smart, you'll relax and enjoy it. Fuck up, and..." Sharon looked
|
|
up and smiled at Jim.
|
|
"Fine," she told him. "She's all ready. She loves this sort
|
|
of thing. She's really hot."
|
|
Stacy started to mumble a protest, but before she could form
|
|
the words, Jim had opened the door and Sharon had pushed her into
|
|
the room. Jim followed her in, closing the door behind him.
|
|
Left alone in the hall, Sharon leaned against the door and
|
|
pulled out a cigarette. She'd give them a few minutes to get
|
|
going and then head in herself. She reached down and patted the
|
|
bulk of the video camera in her purse. She didn't want to miss
|
|
any of the action.
|
|
|
|
Stacy's memories of that night in the room consisted almost
|
|
entirely of a series of unconnected images and sensations, as if
|
|
her conscious mind had shut itself off, acknowledging sensations
|
|
only when they became too strong to shut out.
|
|
The room had been full of men, many of them as big as Jim.
|
|
There was a large bed in the middle of the room. The men had
|
|
cheered as she had stumbled inside, and Stacy had immediately
|
|
been picked up and thrown down onto the bed. She tried to
|
|
struggle, but it seemed as if her limbs seemed so heavy...
|
|
Jim was first.
|
|
He pulled up the zipper on her skirt and tore it off. While
|
|
she had wriggled and tried to squirm away, he had pulled the pink
|
|
top up over her breasts, leaving it bunched up under her chin.
|
|
Stacy had moaned and cried as he began mauling her tits, but
|
|
everything seemed so far away. The next thing she knew, he was
|
|
inside her, impossibly big! She groaned as he pumped in and out,
|
|
first with pain, but then with something else. Her stretched cunt
|
|
began to tingle, and a warm feeling spread out through her
|
|
stomach and up into her breasts, causing her nipples to harden
|
|
and become ultra-sensitive. She fought the sensations, but it was
|
|
a losing battle.
|
|
As he continued to thrust in and out, she slipped her arms
|
|
around his neck and crushed her face to his. Momentarily
|
|
surprised, he began to kiss back, and their tongues entwined
|
|
frantically. A few moments later, she threw back her head and
|
|
screamed as she was overtaken by an intense orgasm. The first of
|
|
many that night. He came a few seconds later, pumping sperm into
|
|
her wet pussy.
|
|
After that first orgasm, everything became a blur...
|
|
|
|
...another man was on top of her now, pumping in and out.
|
|
His cock making a squelching sound in her wet pussy. She tried to
|
|
kiss him, wanting to feel his tongue on hers, but a second man
|
|
slipped his cock into her panting mouth. She fondled her own
|
|
breasts with one hand while holding onto the second man's cock as
|
|
it slid in and out of her mouth...
|
|
|
|
...the room seemed awfully bright all of a sudden, but
|
|
before her mind cold explore this thought, the cock in her mouth
|
|
began to spurt jism. Greedily, she sucked at it as fast as she
|
|
could, but some sperm spilt out over her face. She was scraping
|
|
it up with her fingers and stuffing it into her mouth when a
|
|
second cock slid in. She moaned and began to massage it with her
|
|
aching tongue...
|
|
|
|
...she was on her hands and knees now, her arms wrapped
|
|
around a pair of legs and her mouth wrapped around a thick cock.
|
|
Behind her, a man finished coming and pulled out. She whined and
|
|
wiggled her bottom, desperate for more cock. She felt man kneel
|
|
down behind her, but instead of putting his cock into her pussy,
|
|
he thrust it suddenly into her virgin asshole. She squealed and
|
|
tried to move away, but a pair of hands in her hair kept her face
|
|
firmly impaled on a cock.
|
|
Eventually, however, the pain went away, and a new kind of
|
|
warmth spread through her. She came twice before the cock in her
|
|
asshole started to spray sperm up her ass...
|
|
|
|
...she lay on her back, her legs spread wide and bent
|
|
upwards over her head. A man lay on top of her, pumping
|
|
frantically. His mouth was wide open, and a thin line of drool
|
|
spilt out and fell onto her face. She opened her mouth to receive
|
|
it...
|
|
|
|
...she lay in between two men, impaled upon their cocks. One
|
|
man, the one beneath her, had his cock up her pussy, and the one
|
|
on top was thrusting in and out of her asshole. The combined
|
|
sensations sent her into a flurry of loud orgasms. A third cock
|
|
was stuffed into her panting mouth...
|
|
|
|
Blackness...
|
|
Stacy jerked suddenly awake as cold water splashed in her
|
|
face. She was lying on her back on a warm, sticky mattress.
|
|
Sharon stood over her with an empty cup.
|
|
"Rise and shine," she said brightly. "It's time to go."
|
|
Sharon left the room and walked into an adjoining bathroom.
|
|
Groaning, Stacy tried to sit up. The sheets stuck to her
|
|
back as she pulled herself vertical. Her body was covered with
|
|
bruises and scrapes, and her pussy and asshole ached as if they
|
|
had been scraped raw. Abruptly, she began to wail as the memories
|
|
of the previous hours' activities began to return. Sharon found
|
|
her trembling on the bed a few minutes later when she returned
|
|
with Stacy's clothes.
|
|
"None of that," she admonished. "I know you had a good time
|
|
tonight. Don't start complaining now." She threw the clothing at
|
|
Stacy. "Get dressed. We're going."
|
|
Still trembling, Stacy disentangled her battered body from
|
|
the sticky sheets. Her entire front was coated with a crust of
|
|
dried sperm. Slowly, she pulled the leather skirt on and zipped
|
|
it up. The pink shirt was ripped across the stomach, but she just
|
|
slipped it over her head and pulled it down. The boots went on
|
|
last. Shakily, she straightened up, and was led by Sharon through
|
|
the house and out the front door. The living room was now almost
|
|
deserted, inhabited only by a handful of couples sleeping
|
|
together on the various couches. The two girls made it unobserved
|
|
to Stacy's car. Sharon started the car, and they drove off.
|
|
|
|
Stacy finally managed to stop shaking.
|
|
Sharon glanced over at her as she drove. "That's better.
|
|
There were only eight of them. Not much for a slut like you."
|
|
Stacy looked over in disbelief. "E-eight?" The charm
|
|
bracelet jingled as she brought her hand up to her mouth. She
|
|
felt like she was going to be sick.
|
|
"That's right," Sharon answered. "The offensive line of the
|
|
BCN Barracudas." The football team.
|
|
Stacy leaned back and closed her eyes. "Eight more down, I
|
|
guess," she mumbled.
|
|
Sharon laughed. "Nope. Those ones don't count for our little
|
|
game. They weren't students at Greenwood."
|
|
Stacy sat up and looked over, unable to stop the tears
|
|
flowing down her face. "T-then why?"
|
|
"I needed the money," Sharon answered simply. "They paid me
|
|
fifty bucks each." At this, Stacy began to wail and sob in
|
|
earnest. "Don't worry," Sharon comforted, deliberately
|
|
misunderstanding. "You'll get some of it. I'll cut you in for ten
|
|
percent."
|
|
|
|
Stacy's tears had dried by the time the car reached Sharon's
|
|
house. Reminding the older girl that she was staying the night,
|
|
Sharon led her downstairs to her bedroom.
|
|
"You'll be sleeping on the couch," she announced. Stacy,
|
|
exhausted, stumbled over and collapsed onto the small couch.
|
|
Chuckling, Sharon walked over and stuffed forty dollars down the
|
|
top of Stacy's shirt.
|
|
"There you are," she whispered, running her fingers through
|
|
Stacy's sperm-encrusted hair. "There's your ten percent. Good
|
|
job."
|
|
Stacy fell asleep crying, curled up on Sharon's couch...
|
|
|
|
END PART FIVE
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Cheers,
|
|
--
|
|
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org
|
|
|
|
Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side? And hain't that a big
|
|
enough majority in any town? --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"
|
|
|
|
From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 04:00:46
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:02:26 +0100
|
|
Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
|
|
Subject: Repost: PARKER: Stacy's Senior Year 7/10 (mf, nc)
|
|
Message-ID: <2272379@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
|
|
Hello,
|
|
|
|
this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
|
|
requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
|
|
Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
|
|
email to you. If you want it, save it now.
|
|
|
|
MINI-FAQ:
|
|
|
|
- Please post stories only to this group. If you are fed up with other
|
|
people posting crap here, consider sending them a friendly, short message
|
|
telling them that they are breaching the charter of this group, and that
|
|
they should take their talk to another, more suitable group.
|
|
|
|
- Ignore stupid and offensive posts, ala "AOL r00lz/sucks", "<het|gay>
|
|
off this group", etc. pp. Rest assured that other people find this as
|
|
offensive as you do - no need to point it out to everybody. Chances are
|
|
that it was a troll, anyways. If you must vent some steam, send email,
|
|
post to alt.sex.stories.d, or forward the offending post to the person's
|
|
postmaster.
|
|
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
Subject: STORY: Stacy07
|
|
From: an31072@anon.penet.fi
|
|
Date: Tue, 7 Sep 1993 07:56:22 UTC
|
|
|
|
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
|
|
(PART SEVEN)
|
|
By Parker
|
|
|
|
WARNING: This story contains all manner of unpleasantness:
|
|
blackmail, non-consensual sex, humiliation, D&S and all that
|
|
sort of unsavoury activity. If you do not find this sort of
|
|
FANTASY stimulating (or, at least, interesting), I suggest
|
|
that you stop reading now. Really.
|
|
This is Part Seven of a ten-part story. Do I need to spell
|
|
it out for you?
|
|
Copyright 1993. Feel free to spread copies around, but
|
|
please use a little discretion. Thanks.
|
|
|
|
- Sorry for the delay; some stuff came up. I have received
|
|
some mail from people requesting copies, and I reiterate:
|
|
I'm only posting this once (this costs me money!). Please
|
|
try the mailserver I mentioned earlier. Perhaps someone else
|
|
who has copies can repost them. For what it's worth, anyone
|
|
can repost if they want.
|
|
|
|
|
|
=================================================================
|
|
|
|
Karen ran her fingers through her curly brown hair and
|
|
looked around the bedroom, feeling useless and out of place with
|
|
nothing to do. Neil and Gary were busily removing a shelf from
|
|
the second, smaller closet while Sharon wandered about the room
|
|
with a light meter, alternately taking readings and making
|
|
adjustments on the video camera set up on a tripod in the main
|
|
closet (no need to remove any shelves there). Even Stacy was hard
|
|
at work, albeit reluctantly; she was taking, trip by trip, the
|
|
small mountain of clothing which had previously filled the
|
|
smaller closet and carrying it to a different room. She was quiet
|
|
and sullen, but she did what she was told.
|
|
It was all so unbelievable! Even after Sharon had told her
|
|
everything - even after they had showed her all of those pictures
|
|
- Karen still found it hard to credit the story. Stacy, the
|
|
Princess of Greenwood, the perfect Ice-Queen Bitch, being forced
|
|
to fuck dozens of different guys at school in order to keep
|
|
secret the fact that she was cheating on exams! If Karen had read
|
|
it in a story (and she had read a few stories of this type), she
|
|
would still have found it difficult to swallow. Really, though,
|
|
it had been the pictures that had finally convinced her. After
|
|
Sharon had talked to her that day in school when Ashley and her
|
|
friends had stuffed Karen's locker with those magazine pictures,
|
|
Gary had shown her the set of photographs taken earlier in the
|
|
week at a downtown studio. There was no way that Stacy would do
|
|
something like that willingly, particularly the last two outfits.
|
|
The sight of Stacy in (and then out of) the black leather
|
|
mini-skirt and, later, in the pink latex dress had left Karen
|
|
damp with excitement, despite the fact that Stacy wasn't her
|
|
type. No, not her type at all. Karen preferred larger girls;
|
|
particularly brunettes. Girls like Ashley.
|
|
When they had arrived at Stacy's house that Saturday
|
|
morning, the week after New Year's, Karen had been expecting
|
|
Stacy to slam the door in their faces. Even after all the proof
|
|
she had been shown, she had still expected that. It hadn't
|
|
happened, though. Stacy had opened the door and let them in
|
|
without a word. She looked angry, and more than a little bit
|
|
unhappy, but she let them in. Still, it wasn't until Neil put his
|
|
hand behind Stacy's neck and drew her in for a long, protracted
|
|
kiss that Karen at last fully accepted everything that she had
|
|
been told. Stacy didn't exactly co-operate, but she didn't pull
|
|
away either. And from the way her mouth was working, she was
|
|
definitely returning the kiss. Unbelievable! Yet it was
|
|
happening. And if that was happening, perhaps Sharon's plan for
|
|
Ashley might work as well. Karen trembled as a small shiver of
|
|
excitement shot through her pudgy body.
|
|
Her type. Girls like Ashley...
|
|
|
|
Neil removed the last screw and handed it to Gary who
|
|
carefully put it in his pocket. The final shelf slid out neatly,
|
|
leaving the bottom half of the closet completely open. (The
|
|
shelves on the top half were more permanently affixed.) There was
|
|
just enough space for one person if they sat down with their legs
|
|
curled up. That was going to be Sharon's post. Neil was thankful
|
|
about that. There was no way he was going to spend several hours
|
|
in that cramped space. He was going to be in the bigger closet
|
|
with Gary and Karen. There was really no need for him to be
|
|
there, as Gary had pointed out, but he wanted to be part of
|
|
things again.
|
|
He wanted to see Stacy in action...
|
|
|
|
Sharon looked critically through the camera's viewfinder.
|
|
The angle wasn't the best in the world - it wasn't even as good
|
|
as it had been in Neil's bedroom - but it would have to do. As
|
|
long as the light was OK, the pictures should turn out alright.
|
|
From where she would be sitting in the small closet, she could
|
|
get pictures of the bed and most of the bedroom, but she was a
|
|
little low to get the best angle for any action on the bed. And
|
|
the action on the bed, of course, was the whole point of these
|
|
arrangements. As well, she was forced to take the pictures
|
|
through the slats in the closet door. It worked fairly well as
|
|
long as she kept the camera flush against the door, but it
|
|
limited her options. It would also force her to lean forward
|
|
uncomfortably when taking pictures.
|
|
It was, however, the best they could do, and there was still
|
|
the video camera in the walk-in closet. Perhaps if Stacy's
|
|
parents had left the night before as planned they would have had
|
|
time to make further modifications to Stacy's bedroom, but the
|
|
parents had delayed their departure until mid-morning on
|
|
Saturday. Hence, The three friends had only had a couple of hours
|
|
Saturday morning until Ashley was to arrive. Not the best of
|
|
circumstances in which to accomplish so tricky an objective, but
|
|
things weren't going too badly.
|
|
Now, as long as nothing else went wrong...
|
|
|
|
Gary finished giving his final instructions to Stacy and
|
|
gave her one final look. She appeared quite stunning in her short
|
|
skirt and pink blouse, her blonde hair combed in waves over one
|
|
shoulder. Sharon had both chosen the outfit and done up the hair,
|
|
treating Stacy like some big barbie doll to be dressed and
|
|
groomed at will. Stacy looked great and Gary approved; if that
|
|
didn't work, nothing would. A quick glance around the bedroom
|
|
revealed nothing out of place. Sharon was safely out of sight in
|
|
the small closet, and Neil and Karen were sitting side by side in
|
|
the back of the walk-in. A quick check in the upstairs bathroom
|
|
reveal that Karen's "props" were in place.
|
|
Everything was ready.
|
|
Right on cue, the doorbell rang downstairs. Gary looked
|
|
Stacy in the eye.
|
|
"Showtime," he told her, smiling at the hint of panic in her
|
|
eyes. "You know what to do."
|
|
Stacy swallowed nervously, but nodded her agreement. She
|
|
knew what to do; it had been made very clear to her. Gary
|
|
gestured for her to answer the door. When she left the bedroom,
|
|
he turned and squeezed past the video camera and into the closet,
|
|
pulling the door shut behind him...
|
|
|
|
Stacy stopped momentarily on her way down the stairs to
|
|
answer the doorbell and took a deep breath; she needed to steady
|
|
her nerves. Of all the things they had forced her to do in the
|
|
last couple of months, this was quite possibly the most
|
|
difficult. As first, she had absolutely refused. Even when Sharon
|
|
had made all the usual threats, Stacy would not go through with
|
|
it. She had to draw the line somewhere. But when Gary had offered
|
|
her ten credits - ten less guys to fuck - she had wavered and
|
|
finally given in. She would do what they wanted. Ten less guys to
|
|
fuck! That would be worth it. That would be worth almost
|
|
anything.
|
|
And besides, what did she owe Ashley anyway?
|
|
Stacy was jarred from her thoughts by the sound of the
|
|
doorbell being rung a second and then a third time in quick
|
|
succession.
|
|
"Coming," she cried, annoyed, as she quickly jumped down the
|
|
remaining stairs. Despite her irritation and nervousness, she
|
|
forced a welcoming smile onto her face as she pull open the door.
|
|
"Ashley," she greeted her friend from school. "Come in."
|
|
Ashley accepted the invitation, walking in through the
|
|
doorway. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a pink sweater
|
|
under an expensive leather jacket. (Her parents were rich, and
|
|
she always had the best clothes.) Her long, dark hair was done up
|
|
into a large bun on the back of her head. A large leather purse
|
|
was slung over her shoulder. The two girls exchanged greetings as
|
|
they walked upstairs to Stacy's room. Their meeting was
|
|
ostensibly to put together some arrangements for a class project
|
|
in the spring term, but neither expected much work to be done.
|
|
Particularly since Stacy's parents were out of town for the
|
|
weekend and Ashley was staying the night.
|
|
Stacy led her friend into her bedroom, and the two girls
|
|
flopped down into comfortable positions - Stacy on the bed and
|
|
Ashley onto a large floor cushion - and began to talk. The
|
|
discussion at first centred around the recent holidays, and
|
|
Ashley told several funny stories about some visiting relatives
|
|
from back east. As usual, her stories were humorous at someone
|
|
else's expense, and she soon moved onto various people they both
|
|
knew at school. Soon, as usually happened, the talk zeroed in on
|
|
Ashley's unfavourable views on several of those people. Stacy let
|
|
Ashley carry the conversation, but talked just enough so that her
|
|
friend would not suspect that something was wrong. Just as Gary
|
|
had promised her a significant reward for success, he had
|
|
likewise made dire warnings regarding the consequences of
|
|
failure. Stacy was desperate to succeed.
|
|
After about an hour, Stacy decided that the time had come to
|
|
set things in motion.
|
|
"Want something to drink?" she asked, knowing the answer.
|
|
Ashley was staying the night; that would almost certainly mean
|
|
that the girls would get drunk on the contents of Stacy's
|
|
father's liquor cabinet. Ashley, in particular, enjoyed the
|
|
expensive brand of scotch whisky Stacy's father favoured. As
|
|
expected, Ashley answered in the affirmative, and Stacy left the
|
|
room to get the alcohol.
|
|
|
|
Sharon sat up as best she could in the cramped confines of
|
|
the closet when she heard Stacy offer Ashley a drink. This was
|
|
what they had been waiting for. Gary had liberally laced Stacy's
|
|
father's scotch with his now usual mixture of drugs. With any
|
|
luck, things should be underway before long. And not a moment too
|
|
soon; Sharon's legs were beginning to cramp under her.
|
|
She checked the settings on her camera...
|
|
|
|
Stacy bit her lip with apprehension as Ashley took a sip
|
|
from the tumbler. Would she notice anything different about the
|
|
taste? The moment passed without incident, and Stacy sighed with
|
|
relief, taking a sip of her own drink. Of course, why would
|
|
Ashley notice anything? Stacy herself had twice been drugged in
|
|
this manner - she now realized - and she had never noticed a
|
|
thing. The alcohol effectively masked the taste of the drugs.
|
|
Stacy took another sip of her drink, willingly subjecting herself
|
|
to the effects of Gary's drugs - she would need all the help she
|
|
could get - and the two girls continued their conversation.
|
|
By the end of the next hour, both girls were feeling the
|
|
combined affects of the alcohol and the mixture of drugs
|
|
dissolved within the alcohol. For Stacy, it was now almost a
|
|
familiar experience; the slight drowsiness, the sense of
|
|
dislocation and the increased sensitivity - she had felt it all
|
|
before. Ashley, on the other hand, had never previously
|
|
experienced the effects of these particular drugs. Hence, she put
|
|
the strange feelings down to the effect of alcohol on an empty
|
|
stomach (she hadn't eaten lunch). In a way, it felt kind of
|
|
pleasant, kind of like drifting, but with a sensual warmth down
|
|
deep in her stomach.
|
|
"Another drink?" Stacy got up and took Ashley's now empty
|
|
glass. Ashley started to answer (in the affirmative), but before
|
|
she could say anything, Stacy had hurried out of the room, not
|
|
even waiting for an answer. Normally, Ashley might have found
|
|
this behaviour extremely puzzling - it was usually Ashley who
|
|
instigated and encouraged the drinking - but her powers of
|
|
perception were somewhat blurred. She got up to stretch her legs
|
|
and walked over to the window. It was getting quite hot in the
|
|
bedroom, she noticed, perhaps she should open a window. She
|
|
reached up and...
|
|
"What are you doing?" Stacy had returned with the two
|
|
glasses and the bottle of scotch.
|
|
"I'm just g-going to open the window," Ashley answered,
|
|
stammering slightly in an effort to enunciate the words. The
|
|
scotch was really affecting her. She took a deep breath. "It's
|
|
hot in here." Her upper lip was damp with perspiration.
|
|
"I know," Stacy agreed. She put the glasses down on the
|
|
table and poured two more stiff drinks. "But you can't open the
|
|
window." She too was being careful not to slur her words. "My dad
|
|
gets pissed off about wasted heat during the winter." She crossed
|
|
the room and handed the full glass to Ashley. "He's kinda weird
|
|
about stuff like that." She shrugged her shoulders
|
|
apologetically.
|
|
"But, it's fucking hot in here," Ashley whined, accepting
|
|
the glass. "I'm, like, melting." She swallowed a large mouthful
|
|
of scotch.
|
|
Stacy appeared to think for a moment, and then put down her
|
|
glass and began unbuttoning her blouse.
|
|
"Take your sweater off then." In a moment, she was stripped
|
|
down to her bra. Ashley hesitated for a second, but then put the
|
|
drink down on a side table and slipped her pink sweater up over
|
|
her head, exposing large breasts barely constrained by a bra. She
|
|
pulled the sweater free of her head and shook loose her hair
|
|
(partly destroying carefully constructed bun on the back of her
|
|
head) just in time to see Stacy unclip and remove her bra.
|
|
"Stacy!" Ashley was a little embarrassed. They had seen each other
|
|
naked often enough before and after gym class at school, but not
|
|
like this. It seemed different, somehow, to be standing naked
|
|
like this in Stacy's bedroom, slightly drunk. Still... it was
|
|
quite hot... and the bra strap got more than a little itchy when
|
|
she sweated... Why not? Shrugging her shoulders, Ashley followed
|
|
suit, slipping the straps of her bra off her shoulders and
|
|
unfastening the bra, revealing her own breasts.
|
|
Gary peered intently through the slats on the closet door as
|
|
Ashley's large, firm breasts popped free of confinement and into
|
|
view. Impressed, he brought his still camera up and snapped a
|
|
quick shot, making certain that Stacy, also topless, was in the
|
|
picture. It was almost time to start running the video camera. As
|
|
he took the picture, he felt a gentle shove from behind.
|
|
"Let me see," Neil whispered, trying to look over Gary's
|
|
shoulder and around the tripod. Gary pushed him back, frowning.
|
|
He brought a finger up to his lips, gesturing angrily for
|
|
silence. Did Neil want to fuck it up for everyone? Gary pointed
|
|
towards the floor of the closet, where Karen sat in patient
|
|
silence. Neil looked like he wanted to argue the point, but gave
|
|
in and sat down, sulking.
|
|
Gary turned back to the action in the bedroom.
|
|
|
|
"Here, I'll put that away." Stacy reached over for the
|
|
sweater and bra, "accidentally" brushing the back of her hand
|
|
across Ashley's tits. Ashley flinched slightly, but handed over
|
|
the clothing without comment. She watched as her friend hung them
|
|
on a hook on the back of the door.
|
|
"Thanks."
|
|
"No problem." Stacy padded back across the room towards the
|
|
tall brunette. She crossed in front of her - once again brushing
|
|
against Ashley's breasts - and picked up her friend's glass.
|
|
"Here's your drink."
|
|
As Stacy walked across the room, Ashley couldn't help but
|
|
notice how sleek and fit Stacy looked. Secretly, Ashley wished
|
|
that she had that kind of body - thin, muscular thighs, tight
|
|
stomach and smallish, firm breasts. Ashley, on the other hand,
|
|
was more lush in form, although her large breasts were firm
|
|
enough to stand up on their own without the aid of a bra. She
|
|
knew she was beautiful - indeed, she took if for granted - but
|
|
she still admired her friend's physique. If only...
|
|
She was surprised to find her nipples hardening as she
|
|
watched Stacy. Suddenly embarrassed and shy, she turned away and
|
|
crossed her arms in front of her breasts, taking a large sip of
|
|
the scotch. She quickly regained her composure, and the two
|
|
girls, now topless, resumed their former positions and continued
|
|
the conversation. They carried on talking for another half hour
|
|
or so, with the conversation becoming more and more disjointed as
|
|
the drugs took their affect. Eventually, Stacy asked Ashley to
|
|
bring the now half-empty bottle to her on the bed. Ashley
|
|
complied, moving carefully in order to compensate for the lack of
|
|
co-ordination brought about by the alcohol, but when she tried
|
|
to move away after handing over the bottle, Stacy gestured for
|
|
her to lie down beside her on the bed.
|
|
"What?" Ashley's head was spinning slightly.
|
|
"Just lie down," Stacy told her soothingly. "Relax. I think
|
|
the booze is hitting us harder than we expected."
|
|
Ashley couldn't argue with that. They were only on their
|
|
fourth drink (or was it the fifth?), and she was feeling a
|
|
curious dislocation, almost like she was looking at events
|
|
through a long tunnel - as if her mind was somehow dislocated
|
|
from her body. At the same time, however, her nerves seemed
|
|
heightened and more sensitive and there was a curious tingle in
|
|
the base of her stomach. Better lie down, she thought, and
|
|
allowed Stacy to help her down on the bed. Stacy's hands felt
|
|
cool and dry against her hot skin. They felt good. That's better,
|
|
she told herself, stretching out with her arms by her sides. By
|
|
now, her bun had become unfastened, and her long, brown hair
|
|
spread out on the pillow behind her head. She closed her eyes and
|
|
relaxed.
|
|
A few seconds later, however, she felt a movement on the bed
|
|
beside her. Opening her eyes, she noticed that Stacy was half
|
|
sitting up, looking down at her with a funny expression on her
|
|
face. Ashley, suddenly worried, tried to sit up, but Stacy put
|
|
her hands on her friend's shoulders and pushed her back down.
|
|
"Relax," she murmured, almost whispering. "Just lie there." Her
|
|
strong hands began to rub Ashley's naked shoulders. After a
|
|
moment, Ashley complied, lying back and enjoying the sensation of
|
|
having her shoulders massaged. It felt so good...
|
|
It felt even better a few seconds later, as Stacy slowly
|
|
moved her hands downward across the top of Ashley's chest and
|
|
then down onto her breasts. Ashley instinctively tensed and tried
|
|
to jerk away, but once again Stacy calmed her down with a few
|
|
whispered words. Ashley relaxed again, closing her eyes, as Stacy
|
|
gently rubbed her large breasts, paying particular attention to
|
|
her now-hard nipples.
|
|
Showtime!
|
|
Gary had clicked the "play" button on the video camera as
|
|
soon as Stacy had begun fondling Ashley's shoulders. Things were
|
|
getting hot out there! After checking the viewfinder to make
|
|
certain nothing was being missed, he lifted the still camera and
|
|
began snapping shots as Stacy moved her hands downward towards
|
|
Ashley's tits.
|
|
With any luck, Sharon was also getting some good material
|
|
from her place in the small closet.
|
|
|
|
Eventually, Ashley began to moan quietly with pleasure. The
|
|
moans grew louder as she felt a new sensation on her now
|
|
ultra-sensitive nipples. She opened her eyes to see that Stacy
|
|
had bent over her and was licking her nipples with a small, pink
|
|
tongue which darted in and out of her mouth. Fully aroused,
|
|
Ashley brought up her hands and began to run her fingers through
|
|
Stacy's blonde hair; her beautiful blonde hair. Her hands stayed
|
|
there as Stacy slowly licked her way up along Ashley's throat
|
|
and, finally, to her face. After a brief moment of hesitation,
|
|
the two girls kissed each other full on the lips. The kiss seemed
|
|
to last a long, glorious lifetime, as their tongues entwined,
|
|
broke free and then joined again.
|
|
Both girls were panting by the time their lips parted...
|
|
|
|
This was great!
|
|
Sharon snapped a close-up of the two girls' first kiss. It
|
|
couldn't have been any better if they had been posing for the
|
|
camera. Hell, she was getting hot just watching the action!
|
|
|
|
"S-Stacy..." Ashley moaned. "I..."
|
|
Stacy silenced her with another kiss. Once again, the kiss
|
|
was a long one, as they explored each other's mouths with their
|
|
tongues. Stacy resumed fondling Ashley's big tits. Whimpering
|
|
with pleasure, Ashley reciprocated, running the palms of her
|
|
sweaty hands up and down over Stacy's pert breasts. The two girls
|
|
continued kissing and fondling each other for a while before
|
|
Stacy broke away.
|
|
"W-what is it?" Ashley asked breathlessly as Stacy sat up.
|
|
"Just a second," her friend answered her. "This is going to
|
|
be so good." Stacy slipped off the bed wearing only her skirt and
|
|
looked over at Ashley lying spread out on the mattress. Her
|
|
friend's hair was in disarray, spread messily over the pillow.
|
|
Ashley's large breasts were covered with a thin sheen of sweat
|
|
which glistened in the light as they rose and fell in time with
|
|
her hurried breathing, the nipples standing firm on top. In spite
|
|
of herself - in spite of everything she knew was going to happen
|
|
- Stacy was becoming very excited. In the back of her mind, she
|
|
was aware of the presence of Gary and Sharon and their cameras,
|
|
but the drugs obscured that knowledge. The only thing that was
|
|
important was Ashley lying exposed on the mattress, and all the
|
|
wonderful things they were going to do with each other! But
|
|
first, she had to...
|
|
"Take off your pants," she ordered, her voice thick with
|
|
lust. "I'll be right back." She moved quickly out of the room.
|
|
Ashley complied, quickly slipping her jeans down her long
|
|
legs and kicking them free of her ankles and off of the bed.
|
|
After a moment's hesitation, she repeated this action with her
|
|
panties. Except for her white socks, she was now totally naked.
|
|
Anxiously awaiting Stacy's return, she moved her hand down over
|
|
her sweaty breasts and onto her moist cunt. Moaning slightly, she
|
|
rubbed her finger over her pussy.
|
|
|
|
Gary zoomed in on her with the video camera as she
|
|
masturbated herself. After a close-up of her pussy, he panned the
|
|
camera up her sweat-glistening body to her vacant, panting
|
|
face...
|
|
|
|
Stacy returned a few moments later with a small container
|
|
and a hand mirror. She stopped in the doorway to watch Ashley
|
|
masturbate for a few moments, but then walked forward and leaned
|
|
over her squirming friend. Ashley, keeping one hand on her pussy,
|
|
reached up invitingly, but Stacy shook her head. "Just a second,"
|
|
she said. "Let's do this first."
|
|
Frustrated, Ashley stopped masturbating and sat up as Stacy
|
|
opened the container and spilled some white powder onto the
|
|
mirror. Her pulse sped up as she realized what Stacy was doing.
|
|
Ashley had smoked some pot and hash at school parties, but,
|
|
contrary to press reports about drug abuse in schools, cocaine
|
|
was still very rare. She had seen it once before, but never
|
|
actually tried it. The thought of it made her nervous.
|
|
"Stacy..."
|
|
"Just try it," Stacy interrupted. "It'll make the sex a
|
|
million times better."
|
|
As if demonstrating, Stacy pulled out a narrow tube and
|
|
inhaled a line of coke up one nostril. After sniffing for a few
|
|
seconds, she repeated the action with the other nostril. Ashley
|
|
watched, impressed in spite of herself. She had no idea that
|
|
Stacy was so experienced!
|
|
"Here." Stacy handed over the tube. "You try."
|
|
Sharon took a picture of Stacy with the cocaine, and then
|
|
waited expectantly for Ashley to do the same. The cocaine had
|
|
been Karen's idea; a perfect way to strengthen their hold on the
|
|
two girls!
|
|
After a brief hesitation, Ashley accepted the tube and tried
|
|
to inhale the coke. Her first attempt was a bit of a failure, and
|
|
a good portion of the coke ended up on her upper lip. The second
|
|
try went better, and the drug blasted its way into the back of
|
|
her head.
|
|
"Wow..."
|
|
She began to feel the rush as Stacy leaned forward and
|
|
licked the spilled cocaine off Ashley's lip. This struck the two
|
|
girls as very exciting, and they began to take turns spilling
|
|
small amounts of cocaine on each other's bodies and then licking
|
|
it off.
|
|
|
|
Gary reached down and began massaging his raging erection
|
|
through his jeans as he filmed the action on the bed. This was
|
|
going much better than he had expected. Maybe this video would
|
|
have some commercial value! Behind him, he could feel Neil trying
|
|
to look around him again. This time he just squeezed to one side
|
|
- keeping an eye on the viewfinder - and let Neil take a look. It
|
|
seemed unlikely that the writhing girls on the bed would notice
|
|
any small noises they were making in the closet.
|
|
|
|
Eventually, this game degenerated into straightforward sex.
|
|
First, it was Ashley, lying back on the bed with Stacy's face
|
|
buried in her crotch. The sensation of her friend's tongue on her
|
|
clit sent Ashley into a wave of screaming orgasms that seemed to
|
|
last forever. Then she was returning the favour, bunching up
|
|
Stacy's short skirt around her waist and kneeling in front of
|
|
Stacy's widely spread legs, her tongue flickering in and out of
|
|
her friend's sopping cunt. This was followed by more fondling and
|
|
kissing as each girl, now sweaty and panting ran their hands and
|
|
tongue frantically over each other's body. Finally, they ended up
|
|
lying head to tail, simultaneously lapping at each other's cunts.
|
|
They came together this time, a clutching, writhing mass of
|
|
sweaty, panting female flesh.
|
|
Finally, their lust subsided as the drugs began to work
|
|
their way out of their systems. When Ashley came to her senses,
|
|
she was lying arm in arm with her smaller friend, exhausted and
|
|
sticky. She lay there for a few moments, gathering her wits.
|
|
Gary took one last picture, turned off the video-camera and
|
|
began to move the tripod aside. It was pretty much over now. Time
|
|
to come out of the closet...
|
|
|
|
"S-Stacy..." Ashley stammered, suddenly embarrassed. "What
|
|
happened? What have we..."
|
|
"Shh." Stacy interrupted, leaning up and giving her a kiss.
|
|
"It's alright."
|
|
Ashley resisted, pulling away. "It's not alright," she
|
|
insisted. "What if someone finds out? I can't..."
|
|
"What, " came a new voice from behind her, "if someone
|
|
already knows?"
|
|
Horrified, Ashley whirled around on the bed in time to see
|
|
Gary emerging from the walk-in closet, camera in hand.
|
|
"No!!"
|
|
|
|
By the time Sharon shoved open the closet door with her
|
|
foot, straightened out her cramped legs and managed to climb
|
|
awkwardly to her feet, Gary was pretty much finished explaining
|
|
the situation to their horrified victim. Ashley had pulled up
|
|
Stacy's duvet cover to cover her nudity and was listening, wide
|
|
eyed, while Gary explained her options. As Stacy's had been a few
|
|
months earlier, they were pretty limited: either do as she was
|
|
told, or they would release the video-tape and pictures to
|
|
everyone who was interested. Sharon noted that Stacy had made no
|
|
attempt to cover herself; she just sat, silent and topless, on
|
|
the side of the bed, staring straight down at the floor.
|
|
"Well?"
|
|
Gary had finished his explanation, and was waiting for an
|
|
answer. Sharon noticed that Neil was looking on anxiously; even
|
|
he realized that Ashley could fuck things up for them badly if
|
|
she refused to co-operate.
|
|
"What's it gonna be?"
|
|
|
|
Ashley sobbed quietly on the bed. She looked over to her
|
|
so-called friend sitting beside her, but Stacy refused to look at
|
|
her. Bitch! It was all her fault! She turned her gaze to Gary,
|
|
Neil and Sharon as they stood by the side of the bed watching,
|
|
waiting for her answer - like a pack of vultures.
|
|
What could she do? If she told them to fuck off, as she very
|
|
much wanted to do, they could ruin her life at Greenwood and
|
|
probably in Bakersville as well. The thought of those films and
|
|
pictures being made public made her want to throw up! The sex was
|
|
bad enough, but the drugs might even land her in jail. But the
|
|
alternative... was it any better? Gary had told her that if she
|
|
agreed to do what they wanted, the whole incident would be kept
|
|
secret. All she had to do was obey their commands for the rest of
|
|
the year; do whatever they wanted. But what else could she do?
|
|
She looked up at them, swallowing nervously.
|
|
Her decision was made.
|
|
Gary tensed as she began to speak, but he needn't have
|
|
worried.
|
|
"Just for the rest of the school year?" she confirmed, her
|
|
voice trembling. "After that, I get the pictures and you leave me
|
|
alone?"
|
|
He smirked. They had her! "Sure," he told her. "As soon as
|
|
school's over, you get everything, and no one will ever know this
|
|
happened."
|
|
Ashley's face twitched with tension, but she forced the
|
|
hated words out of her mouth. "OK," she mumbled. "You win. I-I'll
|
|
do what you say."
|
|
Gary's smirk widened to a grin.
|
|
"Oh... not what we say exactly," he chuckled. "We're giving
|
|
our rights over you to someone else. A friend."
|
|
As he said this, Karen walked out of the big closet.
|
|
Ashley's eyes widened with shock!
|
|
"No," she almost screamed, cringing under the duvet. "I
|
|
didn't agree to that. Not with her!" She began to cry again.
|
|
Gary was unrelenting. "It's her or we give out the
|
|
pictures." Ashley began to sob loudly, but after a few moments
|
|
she nodded her assent. She had no choice.
|
|
Karen licked her full lips and moved forward towards her new
|
|
toy, her eyes bright with excitement. Gary looked around at the
|
|
others.
|
|
"C'mon," he said quietly. "Let's leave these two alone. I'm
|
|
sure they have plenty to talk about." Sharon and Neil immediately
|
|
began walking out of the room. After a moment, Stacy got up and
|
|
followed them out, still clothed only in her short skirt.
|
|
As they shut the door behind them they heard Karen's voice,
|
|
low and menacing: "Well, Ashley. First, we'll discuss that 'joke'
|
|
you played on me last month..." The door began to shut. "Then
|
|
maybe we'll try some of that stuff you and Stacy were doing a
|
|
little while ago... just to get started."
|
|
The door shut on Ashley's sobbing.
|
|
|
|
Outside, on the main upstairs landing, Gary and Sharon
|
|
sighed with relief. It had gone better than they had expected.
|
|
Neil had gone downstairs for a beer when Stacy spoke up.
|
|
"G-Gary?" He looked over at the half-naked teenager. She
|
|
made no effort to cover herself, but wouldn't look him in the
|
|
face. Instead, she lowered her eyes submissively.
|
|
"Yes?" His hand found Sharon's and held on.
|
|
"That drug you gave us... I want some of it."
|
|
"Huh?" Gary was puzzled.
|
|
"That drug that makes me h-horny," Stacy explained,
|
|
trembling. "I want some of it. It will make it easier for me...
|
|
you know." She started to cry a little bit. "It h-hurts so
|
|
much... sometimes. If I... if I'm... excited..."
|
|
"Ahh." Gary finally understood. He looked over at Sharon,
|
|
who smirked back at him. He shrugged his shoulders. "Alright," he
|
|
told her, "there's still some left in your dad's scotch. Use
|
|
that."
|
|
"Thanks." Stacy brought her arms up across her chest and
|
|
started to shiver.
|
|
"But first," Gary continued, smirking "you have to earn it."
|
|
Stacy looked up, her green eyes wide. "Come here." He and Sharon
|
|
led her into her parents' bedroom and shut the door behind her.
|
|
She began to tremble when they started to remove their clothes,
|
|
but she didn't cry out or protest in any way.
|
|
She needed that drug.
|
|
|
|
Neil ran up the stairs two at a time, beer in hand, only to
|
|
find the landing empty.
|
|
"Hello?" He looked around, puzzled. "Where is everybody?" He
|
|
wandered along the landing until he came to a door. He opened it
|
|
a crack and looked in. A bedroom. Inside, he saw Stacy sucking
|
|
energetically at Gary's cock as Sharon straddled her head and
|
|
necked with Gary. Sharon's thighs tightened and loosened on
|
|
Stacy's head as the blonde teenager sucked for all she was worth.
|
|
Quietly, Neil closed the door. Obviously they wanted to be
|
|
alone. He stood there for a moment, took a swig from the beer
|
|
can, and than walked back to the doorway to Stacy's bedroom. He
|
|
carefully opened it and peered in. He was greeted by the sound of
|
|
rhythmic slaps of flesh against flesh as Karen had Ashley, still
|
|
naked, over her knee and was spanking her vigorously. Ashley's
|
|
lush bottom was bright red and shining from Karen's attentions,
|
|
and the brunette was crying and sobbing as she squirmed on the
|
|
other girl's knee.
|
|
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... please, don't...
|
|
don't... I'm sorry, I won't... please..."
|
|
The begging continued until Karen finished the spanking and
|
|
turned the older girl over, still balancing her on her knees.
|
|
Still sobbing and babbling apologies, Ashley offered no objection
|
|
as Karen cradled her in her arms and began caressing her large
|
|
breasts. Neil slowly closed the door.
|
|
He stood on the landing for a few moments, undecided, and
|
|
then shrugged his shoulders.
|
|
"Maybe there's some football or something on TV," he
|
|
muttered, walking slowly back down the stairs.
|
|
|
|
END PART SEVEN
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Cheers,
|
|
--
|
|
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org
|
|
|
|
Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side? And hain't that a big
|
|
enough majority in any town? --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"
|
|
|
|
From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 04:01:05
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:02:24 +0100
|
|
Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
|
|
Subject: Repost: PARKER: Stacy's Senior Year 6/10 (mf, nc)
|
|
Message-ID: <2272378@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
|
|
Hello,
|
|
|
|
this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
|
|
requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
|
|
Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
|
|
email to you. If you want it, save it now.
|
|
|
|
MINI-FAQ:
|
|
|
|
- Please post stories only to this group. If you are fed up with other
|
|
people posting crap here, consider sending them a friendly, short message
|
|
telling them that they are breaching the charter of this group, and that
|
|
they should take their talk to another, more suitable group.
|
|
|
|
- Ignore stupid and offensive posts, ala "AOL r00lz/sucks", "<het|gay>
|
|
off this group", etc. pp. Rest assured that other people find this as
|
|
offensive as you do - no need to point it out to everybody. Chances are
|
|
that it was a troll, anyways. If you must vent some steam, send email,
|
|
post to alt.sex.stories.d, or forward the offending post to the person's
|
|
postmaster.
|
|
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
Subject: STORY: Stacy06
|
|
From: an31072@anon.penet.fi
|
|
Date: Wed, 8 Sep 1993 00:31:12 UTC
|
|
|
|
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?).
|
|
|
|
- Oops. I guess I forgot to post this chapter. Anyway, here it is.
|
|
As well, for those of you who missed it, the mailserver I was referring
|
|
to is at laff@sal.cs.uiuc.edu. Just send a message with the text:
|
|
"Filesend: help" in the body of the message and you're on your way.
|
|
To the best of my knowledge, Chapters 1-7 have now been posted.
|
|
|
|
=================================================================
|
|
|
|
"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
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Cheers,
|
|
--
|
|
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org
|
|
|
|
Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side? And hain't that a big
|
|
enough majority in any town? --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"
|
|
|
|
From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 04:01:24
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:02:31 +0100
|
|
Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
|
|
Subject: Repost: PARKER: Stacy's Senior Year 9a/10 (mf, nc)
|
|
Message-ID: <2272381@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
|
|
Hello,
|
|
|
|
this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
|
|
requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
|
|
Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
|
|
email to you. If you want it, save it now.
|
|
|
|
MINI-FAQ:
|
|
|
|
- Please post stories only to this group. If you are fed up with other
|
|
people posting crap here, consider sending them a friendly, short message
|
|
telling them that they are breaching the charter of this group, and that
|
|
they should take their talk to another, more suitable group.
|
|
|
|
- Ignore stupid and offensive posts, ala "AOL r00lz/sucks", "<het|gay>
|
|
off this group", etc. pp. Rest assured that other people find this as
|
|
offensive as you do - no need to point it out to everybody. Chances are
|
|
that it was a troll, anyways. If you must vent some steam, send email,
|
|
post to alt.sex.stories.d, or forward the offending post to the person's
|
|
postmaster.
|
|
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
Subject: STORY: Stacy09A
|
|
From: an31072@anon.penet.fi (PARKER)
|
|
Date: Mon, 13 Sep 1993 05:22:09 UTC
|
|
|
|
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
|
|
(PART NINE-A)
|
|
by Parker
|
|
|
|
WARNING: This story contains any number of things which
|
|
could cause offence: blackmail, humilation, non-consensual
|
|
intercourse, D&S and all that sort of good stuff. If you are
|
|
offended by this kind of thing, STOP READING. This is not
|
|
for you. Consider yourself warned.
|
|
- This is the ninth part of a ten-part story. For those of
|
|
you who have been patient enough to get through the previous
|
|
eight parts, go ahead. If you haven't yet done so, I suggest
|
|
you read them before reading this.
|
|
|
|
Copyright 1993 (whatever that means). Feel free to
|
|
spread as many copies about as you wish, but I would
|
|
appreciate it if you would spread these copies in their
|
|
original form along with the original attribution. I
|
|
want all of the blame/credit; after all, I did all the
|
|
work. That's all.
|
|
|
|
- Please note that I am only posting this once (it costs me
|
|
money to post to A.S.S.). They are, however, being picked up
|
|
by the Laff mailserver (see previous episodes for address - hmm...
|
|
catch-22?).
|
|
|
|
=================================================================
|
|
|
|
"Do you remember Peter Jenkins?"
|
|
Sharon looked up from her position on the bed, where she was
|
|
skimming through the latest National Enquirer. Gary was sitting
|
|
in front of his computer with an old Greenwood school yearbook
|
|
open in his lap.
|
|
"Huh?"
|
|
"Jenkins," Gary repeated. "Peter Jenkins. He was in grade
|
|
twelve when you were in grade nine." He turned and handed over
|
|
the old school yearbook, pointing to a picture. "That guy. He
|
|
went out for Stacy for a little while, but she broke up with
|
|
him."
|
|
"Oh... that's right. He's the one who got so drunk at the
|
|
Prom that he vomited all over himself; they had to throw him
|
|
out."
|
|
"That's him." Gary took back the yearbook and gazed at the
|
|
picture. "He was fucked up over Stacy for months: a real basket
|
|
case."
|
|
Sharon glanced back at her National Enquirer for a moment,
|
|
but then turned her attention back to her boyfriend. He must have
|
|
something in mind, even if it was taking him a little while to
|
|
get to it.
|
|
Gary just stared intently at the picture for a moment,
|
|
saying nothing, and then went back to work on his computer.
|
|
"Yeah?" Maybe a little prodding was necessary.
|
|
"Nothing special." He hit the return button on his computer,
|
|
saving some work. That done, he turned back to Sharon.
|
|
"I heard he was working up in Point Hope."
|
|
Sharon waited silently for the other shoe to drop. This
|
|
time, it was not long in coming.
|
|
"I was just thinking," he mused, gazing again at the
|
|
yearbook, "that maybe we're being a little greedy, keeping Stacy
|
|
to ourselves up here in Bakersville. Wouldn't it be nice if we
|
|
could get him back together with his old high school flame... at
|
|
least for one night?"
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
NUMBER 52 - 56
|
|
The game was over, and the players had long since showered
|
|
up and left the building. Biff Talbot lead his four friends into
|
|
the now-deserted locker room. Together, they made up the first-
|
|
string offensive line of the Greenwood Bulldogs, the football
|
|
team at Greenwood High. As offensive linemen, they had not been
|
|
picked for their speed, dexterity or intelligence. No; they
|
|
occupied the position they did on the football team because of
|
|
their size. The smallest of them, Billy Paxter - "little Bill" -
|
|
was 6'2" and weighed just over 240 lbs. He received a lot of
|
|
ribbing on the team because of his size.
|
|
Being an offensive lineman, even a good one, was not a
|
|
particularly glamorous position. It was pretty much all grunt
|
|
work - "down-in-the-trenches" kind of stuff. The type of football
|
|
that won games by attrition, not by spectacular solo efforts.
|
|
Hence, all the attention... all the acclaim; all the girls went
|
|
to the players in the flashier positions, such as the
|
|
quarterbacks and wide receivers and the like.
|
|
Until today.
|
|
Grinning his big, stupid grin, Biff flipped open the door to
|
|
one of the unused lockers at the end of the wall.
|
|
"Holy shit!"
|
|
Stacy flinched at the sudden brightness.
|
|
She had been crouched in the locker for almost three hours,
|
|
ever since the end of the game when Barry Packard had hustled her
|
|
into the locker room just as the final few moments expired on the
|
|
clock. Barry hadn't been "using" her since early January, when he
|
|
had started going steady with another girl at school, but he
|
|
hadn't forgotten Stacy either. Particularly when Neil had
|
|
"explained" a few things to him. At first, he had been a little
|
|
depressed at the knowledge that Stacy had only been fucking him
|
|
because she was being forced to do so. Then he got angry; the
|
|
bitch wouldn't give him the time of day unless she had to! At
|
|
least he was seeing Heather now. And, he thought,
|
|
philosophically, Stacy was such a slut these days, he didn't
|
|
really want to fuck her anymore. She was used goods. Who knew
|
|
where her pussy had been?
|
|
Nevertheless, although he might not want her anymore for
|
|
himself, he could always do favours for his buddies. Stacy hadn't
|
|
complained when he told her what she was to do, not that it would
|
|
have done her any good. He had been quite prepared to "insist".
|
|
She had just stared down at the ground and nodded her head
|
|
silently when he had told her what she was going to do; all five
|
|
guys were "new meat" (Sharon's term). Each fuck would bring her
|
|
closer to the end of her ordeal.
|
|
"Get in," Barry ordered, opening up a locker. "Hurry."
|
|
Stacy hesitated slightly - the locker was pretty small - but
|
|
then she obeyed. Making certain she had a firm grip on the small
|
|
flask (red wine this time), she wriggled ass-first into the
|
|
locker, facing outwards. Her tight little cheerleading costume -
|
|
green, sleeveless blouse and white skirt - rode up on her thighs,
|
|
exposing her bare pussy to the open air. Barry, unable to resist,
|
|
reached down and fondled it, slipping his middle finger into her
|
|
snatch and wiggling it around. Stacy had not yet ingested any of
|
|
the wine, and thus squirmed away. Barry didn't notice.
|
|
A few seconds later, Barry stepped back to take a look.
|
|
Stacy was wedged backwards into the locker, crouched on the heels
|
|
of her feet, with her thighs splayed open. 'Looking good' he
|
|
thought. 'Just one more...'
|
|
"Hold on," he muttered, moving away out of Stacy's line of
|
|
vision. Stacy waited nervously. The game must be over by now. Any
|
|
moment there would be...
|
|
"Here we are."
|
|
Barry had returned with a couple of handles for the barbells
|
|
in the weight room. He had taken the weights off, leaving a foot
|
|
long, hollow cylinder of shiny metal.
|
|
"I know how hot you are," he muttered bending down. "I
|
|
wouldn't want you to get lonely down here while you're waiting."
|
|
He reached under her crotch and slowly inserted one of the metal
|
|
handles into her dry pussy. Stacy squealed and tried to wriggle
|
|
away, but the silver tube slid quickly up into her pussy until
|
|
about eight inches of it was lost from view. Barry propped it up
|
|
on the base of the locker. Stacy tried to push herself away, but
|
|
was only able to move up about four inches before her head hit
|
|
the top of the locker; she was now effectively impaled on the
|
|
handle until she left the enclosed space.
|
|
Leering, Barry passed the other handle to her.
|
|
"This is for your mouth," Barry instructed her. "When my
|
|
buddies open this locker, I expect you to be tonguing it the way
|
|
you sucked my cock a couple of months ago."
|
|
Stacy looked up at him from where she crouched in the
|
|
locker, her eyes watering with humiliation. "If not," he
|
|
continued, unrelenting, "I'll have to complain to Sharon." He
|
|
smirked at her. " We wouldn't want that, would we?"
|
|
A tear trickled down Stacy's cheek as she nodded.
|
|
"How about a demonstration?" Barry suggested.
|
|
Stacy hesitated momentarily, but then brought the handle up
|
|
to her mouth and began tonguing and licking it. She closed her
|
|
eyes as she did so, trying to imagine that it was a real cock;
|
|
that she was anywhere but here...
|
|
FLASH!
|
|
Stacy's eyes flew open. Barry was standing in front of her
|
|
with a polaroid camera. He took another picture while she stared
|
|
at him in panic and then lowered the camera.
|
|
"Looking good," he laughed.
|
|
Stacy turned red, but continued sucking hungrily at the
|
|
handle as she had been ordered to do.
|
|
Still laughing, Barry moved forward and slammed shut the
|
|
locker door. Inside, Stacy pulled the handled out of her mouth
|
|
and reached down for the thermos, wincing as the slight movement
|
|
caused the unwelcome visitor in her pussy to grind itself in a
|
|
little further.
|
|
|
|
Stacy had remained in the cramped confines of the locker for
|
|
the next three hours before Biff and the rest of the linemen
|
|
arrived. It had been quite hot in the locker room, particularly
|
|
as the boys were showering, and by the end of the three hours,
|
|
her entire body was damp with sweat. Her skirt was bunched up at
|
|
her waist, and the shirt of the cheerleading outfit, never all
|
|
that concealing in the first place, was now plastered to her
|
|
upper body, clearly revealing her rock-hard nipples.
|
|
She had gone through most of the wine in the thermos, more
|
|
from thirst than anything else, and she was almost unbearably
|
|
horny. More than once during her stay in the locker, she had been
|
|
tempted to burst out and grab one of the cocks that floated so
|
|
temptingly across her limited field of vision (there were small
|
|
ventilation slits in the front of the locker), but common sense -
|
|
and a good dose of fear - had won out. There were over twenty
|
|
boys in the locker room. And she still had some pride left. Her
|
|
sluttishness was not yet common knowledge at Greenwood, and she
|
|
desperately wanted to keep it that way. Only another fifteen or
|
|
so guys to fuck.
|
|
So, in the end, she had to settle for sliding up and down on
|
|
the now-slippery handle Barry had stuck in her pussy. By doing so
|
|
and wriggling around as much as she could, she managed to bring
|
|
on several small orgasms in the course of the three hours as the
|
|
boys of the football team showered and changed, unsuspecting, all
|
|
around her. At one point, she was afraid that her moans would
|
|
give her away, but she was unable to stop herself from sliding up
|
|
and down on the metal "cock".
|
|
So instead, she stuck the second handle in her mouth and
|
|
began to suck, thus muffling any noises she might have made.
|
|
Three hour passed slowly...
|
|
|
|
"Holy shit!"
|
|
Stacy Richards squinted up at the surprised football players
|
|
from inside the locker. Her cheerleading outfit was plastered to
|
|
her sweat-soaked body. Her pussy, clearly displayed from in
|
|
between her splayed thighs, sucked hungrily at the shiny metal
|
|
cylinder as she slide herself up and down on it. Her hands
|
|
clutched another metal cylinder - barbell handle, Biff realized -
|
|
and slid it suggestively in and out of her mouth, between her
|
|
shiny, wet lips. Her charm bracelet jingled quietly as she moved
|
|
the metal handle up and down, all the while making quiet moaning
|
|
sounds around the object in her mouth.
|
|
Biff tore his eyes away from this incredible sight and
|
|
turned to his equally stunned friends.
|
|
"Guys," he chortled, "I give you... Stacy Richards. She's
|
|
ours for the evening."
|
|
"Jesus."
|
|
They couldn't believe it. Stacy Richards; the Stacy Richards
|
|
who had been flaunting herself in front of them from the
|
|
sidelines these last three years; the Stacy Richards who had
|
|
teased them, yet only gone out with the quarterbacks and other
|
|
stars; the Stacy Richards of their dreams. Bill moved forward
|
|
first, reaching into the locker.
|
|
"Wait," Biff told him. Barry had given him some
|
|
instructions. "Just wait a second."
|
|
Biff moved forward and looked down on Stacy. She looked back
|
|
up at him, tears of humiliation burning in her large, green eyes;
|
|
tears of humiliation... and something else. He reached down and
|
|
gently took away the barbell handle she had been sucking on. She
|
|
moaned softly, but didn't resist as he slid it out from between
|
|
her lips.
|
|
"Stacy," he said quietly, "is there something you'd like to
|
|
say?" Despite what Barry had told him, Biff still couldn't really
|
|
believe she would say it. Once again, he was surprised.
|
|
"Fuck me," she moaned, eyes closing as she ground the second
|
|
handled deeper and deeper into her sopping pussy. "I need your
|
|
cocks."
|
|
This was enough for the guys, and they surged forward. Biff,
|
|
however, held them back again. One more thing...
|
|
"What do you say?" he asked the desperate girl.
|
|
She looked up at him for a few moments, but then glanced
|
|
away, unable to meet his eyes.
|
|
"Please..."
|
|
"What? I didn't hear you."
|
|
Stacy looked up at him, lips parted. "Please," she said, her
|
|
voice louder. "Please fuck me. I need you all; I n-need your
|
|
cocks in me. Please fuck me... p-please shoot your sperm into me.
|
|
Please..."
|
|
And they did.
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
Friday afternoon. 3:45 PM. The school cafeteria was almost
|
|
empty, as most of the students at Greenwood had, typically,
|
|
declined the opportunity to hang around the school after classes.
|
|
The weekend beckoned, and, with the wonderful late spring
|
|
weather, the beach was exerting its almost magnetic pull on the
|
|
teenagers of Bakersville.
|
|
The cafeteria was not, however, completely deserted. Three
|
|
students sat, quietly talking, in a corner table. Gary, as usual,
|
|
did most of the talking. He was also the one who handed out the
|
|
latest round of money from the sale of pictures to various
|
|
magazines. May had been a good month for them as far as picture
|
|
sales went. Stacy had now unwittingly adorned the pages of over a
|
|
dozen magazines across the country, with more to come. It was
|
|
only a matter of time before she found out - before someone in
|
|
Bakersville saw some of the pictures and spread the news - but
|
|
they didn't really care. Their time with Stacy was nearly done
|
|
anyway.
|
|
The main cafeteria door opened and Karen walked in, followed
|
|
closely by Ashley. The two girls had spent more and more time
|
|
together over the last six weeks as Karen tightened her hold over
|
|
the older girl. Like Stacy, Ashley was the victim of blackmail,
|
|
and, as had been the case with Stacy, events had quickly moved
|
|
beyond her control. Since the incident which put her in this
|
|
vulnerable position in the first place, there had been any number
|
|
of events which had deepened Karen's hold on her. All Ashley
|
|
could think of was the end of the school year and freedom. All
|
|
Karen could think of was how nice it was to have such a beautiful
|
|
girl as Ashley as a personal slave, and how hard it would be to
|
|
give it up.
|
|
If she gave her up...
|
|
"Wait here," Karen ordered, moving towards her three friends
|
|
in the corner. Obediently, but not without a flash of anger, the
|
|
tall brunette sat down on a bench near the door.
|
|
"What's up?" Karen asked as she approached. "Neil said you
|
|
wanted to meet."
|
|
"Just the final plans for tomorrow night," Sharon told her.
|
|
"The football party." She looked over at where Ashley sat,
|
|
staring at the floor. "Everything's cool with her? Did she cause
|
|
any problems?"
|
|
Karen plopped herself down beside Neil. "No," she answered.
|
|
"No problem. We'll be there."
|
|
"Great," Sharon smiled. "I've got the perfect costume picked
|
|
out; the guys are gonna love her." Neil chuckled at this, but
|
|
Karen only frowned.
|
|
"Listen," she said tentatively, "she's not gonna get... you
|
|
know... hurt or anything like that?"
|
|
"Ha," Neil laughed. "Just get her brains fucked out. That's
|
|
all."
|
|
"No," Karen ignored him. "I mean like, beaten, or... well...
|
|
you know."
|
|
"Huh uh," Sharon shook her head. "Nothing like that. It's
|
|
just a party; the guys on the football team at BCN just want to
|
|
celebrate the end of the season with a big blow out. Stacy was
|
|
such a big hit the last time, they want her back again." Sharon
|
|
looked over at Gary who didn't react. "I offered them Ashley as
|
|
well because you said you wanted the money. They were willing to
|
|
pay twice as much for two girls."
|
|
Karen looked undecided.
|
|
"There's not a problem with that, is there?" Gary asked.
|
|
Karen looked over at Gary, meeting his intense stare for a few
|
|
moments and then looking away.
|
|
"No," she answered finally. "I just don't want her hurt.
|
|
That's all."
|
|
The table fell silent for a few moments.
|
|
"OK then," Sharon stated. "That's settled. You'll meet us at
|
|
my house at eight to get the girls dressed."
|
|
"Yeah," Karen told her, getting to her feet. "We'll be
|
|
there." This said, she turned and walked away towards the waiting
|
|
Ashley. She walked straight past her and out the door. After a
|
|
confused glance at the three teenagers in the corner, Ashley
|
|
scrambled to her feet and followed her out.
|
|
"What was that all about?" Neil muttered.
|
|
"Dunno." Sharon shrugged her shoulders.
|
|
Gary laughed. His two friends turned towards him. "It's
|
|
spring," he explained, grinning.
|
|
"Huh?"
|
|
"You know," Gary insisted. "Spring. Birds and bees and that
|
|
sort of thing."
|
|
His two friends stared at him, blank looks on their faces.
|
|
Gary sighed.
|
|
"I think our Karen is falling in love..."
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
When Peter Jenkins had called to invite her to a party up in
|
|
Point Hope, Stacy had jumped at the opportunity. Peter was two
|
|
years older than her, and had been a senior at Greenwood when
|
|
Stacy had been in grade ten. They had gone steady for a little
|
|
while - about nine dates altogether - but Stacy had eventually
|
|
dumped him when the current captain of the football team had
|
|
expressed an interest in her. She had never really seen much of
|
|
Peter after that; she knew that he didn't get another girlfriend
|
|
that year, but never really thought about it. In her mind, the
|
|
split-up had been entirely natural, and, if it bothered him,
|
|
well... he'd just have to grow up a bit, wouldn't he?
|
|
Thus, when he called her up, she had not hesitated to accept
|
|
his invitation. He had moved to the nearby town of Point Hope
|
|
after graduation, where he worked as a clerk in a department
|
|
store. For Stacy, it represented the chance to get away from her
|
|
present situation; to go to a party with people who didn't know
|
|
her and wouldn't force her to have sex with them. It sounded
|
|
perfect.
|
|
She even bought a new dress for the occasion. A sleeveless
|
|
green dress with little ruffles on the shoulders. It matched her
|
|
eyes perfectly, and, she thought, it made her look a bit like a
|
|
little girl. She had made a mental note to do her hair up into a
|
|
pony tail. It was the sort of look which used to drive the guys
|
|
wild back when she had enjoyed that sort of teasing. Now, of
|
|
course, she was obliged, as often as not, to put out, so the
|
|
cock-teasing was not as much fun as it used to be.
|
|
Not tonight, though. Tonight, she could be her old self. No
|
|
one in Point Hope knew her or went to Greenwood. It would be just
|
|
like old times.
|
|
Peter showed up at 7:00 PM as planned. It was almost a two
|
|
hour drive to Point Hope, so he wanted to leave fairly early. She
|
|
had been ready a good fifteen minutes before he arrived, but she
|
|
still kept him waiting downstairs for almost half an hour; it was
|
|
just like old times.
|
|
He hadn't changed much. Always rather short, the last couple
|
|
of years had seen his body fill out quite a bit until he was
|
|
beginning to show a bit of pudginess. Obviously, the clerking job
|
|
at the department store didn't involve much physical activity.
|
|
Stacy felt herself sneering a bit as he led her out to his car -
|
|
a somewhat battered Toyota Tercel; he was turning into a bit of a
|
|
slob. The way he looked now, he couldn't be getting too much in
|
|
the way of attention from any girls; that was probably why he had
|
|
turned to his old high school girlfriend for a date at this
|
|
party. No doubt he'd be so overwhelmed at having such a beautiful
|
|
date as herself, he'd do whatever she wanted. What a schmuck!
|
|
The drive up the coast to Point Hope was not particularly
|
|
scenic. The only real nice part of the drive came just as they
|
|
passed by the Point Hope Maximum Security Penitentiary and
|
|
crested the hill leading down into the town itself. Point Hope
|
|
was a quiet little town nestled against the beach below the
|
|
sandstone cliffs. The view from the top of the hill was little
|
|
short of spectacular.
|
|
Stacy, however, had seen it all before. Besides, she was
|
|
having too much fun annoying Peter. The two hour drive had been
|
|
marked by small talk and long silences, but Stacy had quickly
|
|
discovered that Peter was still easily upset by talk of their
|
|
brief relationship a couple years earlier in high school. He had
|
|
flushed an angry red when she had brought it up earlier in the
|
|
trip, and had, since then, shut up almost entirely. Stacy,
|
|
however, was enjoying herself immensely. She made a point of
|
|
bringing it up as often as possible. By the time they arrived at
|
|
the party, she was in a great mood, and Peter was quiet and
|
|
sullen.
|
|
|
|
Peter fought to remain patient as he led Stacy up the walk
|
|
to the front door. This had better be worth it!
|
|
He had received a phone call from a guy - some kid - at
|
|
Greenwood, telling him something about Stacy's recent activities,
|
|
and about her "weakness" for alcohol. The caller had suggested
|
|
that once she had a couple of drinks in her, she would do
|
|
anything, and that 'wouldn't it be nice if the two of them got
|
|
back together for a date.'
|
|
Peter wasn't sure if he believed him, but it was worth a
|
|
try. Stacy had been an incredible bitch to him in high school,
|
|
and any chance to get even was well worth attempting.
|
|
Since the phone call, he had been experiencing this
|
|
recurring fantasy...
|
|
Stacy quickly realized that she was overdressed for the
|
|
party. Most of the guests seemed to be blue collar workers from a
|
|
local fish packing plant; the majority of them wore nothing more
|
|
fancy than jeans and tee-shirts. Stacy was the only woman there
|
|
in a dress. She was also the only one young enough to be in high
|
|
school.
|
|
Peter immediately brought her a glass of punch. When she
|
|
sipped at it, Stacy discovered that it was a bit strong for her
|
|
taste, but not too bad. She took another, longer, drink from the
|
|
glass. The way things were shaping up at the party, a couple of
|
|
drinks might well be called for. The whole idea of coming to this
|
|
party with her ex-boyfriend was beginning to look like a bad
|
|
idea. A little alcohol never hurt anyone; she finished the drink.
|
|
Peter brought her another one and stood talking with her while
|
|
she finished that one as well.
|
|
He asked her to dance.
|
|
At first, everything went well. The music was up-tempo and
|
|
the dancing was fun, despite her inappropriate dress. After a
|
|
while, though, she began to feel a bit queasy. It must have been
|
|
the punch. In fact, she realized suddenly, if felt a little
|
|
like...
|
|
A new song started. A slow song.
|
|
Peter pulled her close, into his chest; instinctively, she
|
|
draped her bare arms over his shoulders and they began to dance,
|
|
slowly revolving around the dance floor. As they danced, Stacy
|
|
began to experience the now-familiar feeling of disassociation as
|
|
the room started to spin. She closed her eyes and held on to
|
|
Peter's shoulders, trying to fight off the dizziness. The music
|
|
and other noise in the room seemed to recede into the background.
|
|
The drug! They had drugged her; Gary must have arranged this.
|
|
Panicked, Stacy tried to disentangle herself, but she was
|
|
unable to do so. Her limbs failed to respond properly, and it was
|
|
all she could do to hold onto her dance partner in order to keep
|
|
herself from sinking to the floor. Around and around they went,
|
|
each revolution sending Stacy's perception spinning, until all
|
|
she was aware of in the room was Peter. There was nothing else;
|
|
just a blur of sound and a solid object she could hang onto.
|
|
She felt the warm tingling begin in her groin.
|
|
"Stacy..."
|
|
A voice! Her eyes opened and struggled to focus on the face
|
|
in front of her. Peter? Everything else was a blur.
|
|
"Do you remember going out with me in high school?"
|
|
Remember? Of course she remembered. Stacy nodded in the
|
|
affirmative, still trying to focus. Why was he asking? The tingle
|
|
in her groin grew stronger.
|
|
"We went on nine dates," Peter murmured to her. "Nine
|
|
dates..."
|
|
Stacy felt one of his hands leave her shoulder, slide down
|
|
the back of her dress and latch onto her ass. She felt that she
|
|
should make some objection, but...
|
|
"And all I got was one kiss," the voice continued. "One
|
|
kiss..."
|
|
The blonde teenager tried to focus on what Peter was saying,
|
|
but the hand on her butt was making concentration difficult. She
|
|
felt the hand pull away...
|
|
"One kiss..."
|
|
...and begin pulling the zipper of her dress down her back.
|
|
She tried to wriggle free, but her arms remained wrapped around
|
|
Peter's shoulders.
|
|
"I don't think that's fair. Do you?"
|
|
"N-no." Stacy discovered that she could speak, although even
|
|
her own voice seemed distant to her. The zipper was now all the
|
|
way down, and she could feel the cool air of the room on the
|
|
small of her back. The feelings of arousal increased, spreading
|
|
up from her crotch into her belly. Involuntarily, she ground her
|
|
lower body against Peter as the dance continued.
|
|
"So," Peter continued, "we're going to work through those
|
|
dates now. All nine of them. As they should have been."
|
|
Stacy tried to shake her head, no. Not here; she wanted him
|
|
to take her to a bedroom or something... do what he wanted there,
|
|
but not here. Not in front of...
|
|
"First date," he whispered, his tongue licking out at her
|
|
hear. "A kiss would be nice."
|
|
Retreating from her ear, he brought his lips down against
|
|
hers. She moaned softly, parting her lips, but he quickly pulled
|
|
away. That felt so good, but not here. Please, not here.
|
|
"Second date," he continued. One of the straps of the dress
|
|
slid off a shoulder. She tried to shrug it back on, but it just
|
|
slipped further down her arm.
|
|
"Maybe some tongue."
|
|
This time, he thrust his tongue into her willing mouth. She
|
|
kissed back, unable to do anything else as a wave of lust surged
|
|
through her body. Oh god...
|
|
The kiss broke, but the dance continued. The dance continued through
|
|
the "third date", where he
|
|
copped a feel of her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Her
|
|
nipples hardened immediately when he ran his fingers over them.
|
|
On the "fourth date", he removed her bra, unclipping it from
|
|
behind her back and sliding it off. By now, her dress had slid
|
|
down off the other shoulder, uncovering her back all the way down
|
|
to the top of her ass and leaving her breasts partly exposed...
|
|
More of the same on the "fifth date". Some heavy necking
|
|
while mauling at her now almost-naked breasts. By now, Stacy was
|
|
panting with lust, all thought of where she was and who she was
|
|
with having fled her mind. All that mattered was...
|
|
The dance. She missed what he said on the "sixth date", but
|
|
by the end of the "seventh", she was grinding her crotch against
|
|
him with abandon...
|
|
"Eight date," he panted, hoarse. "It's time you felt my
|
|
cock."
|
|
She didn't need to be told twice. Groaning with lust, she
|
|
disentangled one arm from around his neck and reached down to his
|
|
crotch. With an ease born of much practice, she pulled down the
|
|
zipper and slide his cock free of his pants. It was already damp
|
|
and rigid...
|
|
"Ninth date," he gasped. "You need to be fucked." He looked
|
|
at her. "Beg for it."
|
|
"Please fuck me," she moaned. "I need to be fucked. Please
|
|
put your lovely cock into me, Peter. Fill me up. Please..."
|
|
Peter could take no more. He had been dreaming of this
|
|
moment for over two years. With a cry, he shoved her back against
|
|
the wall, pulled one of her legs up, and shoved his cock straight
|
|
into her dripping pussy. The dress, bunched up at the waist to
|
|
allow him access to her pussy, fell forward, abandoning any
|
|
pretence of covering her breasts.
|
|
Stacy didn't care.
|
|
Holding onto his shoulders, she wrapped both legs around
|
|
Peter's ass and fucked him right back as he drove her again and
|
|
again against the wall. She drooled and slobbered and squirmed
|
|
out her lust, all the time moaning and crying for him to fuck her
|
|
harder.
|
|
He obliged...
|
|
|
|
The last trembling vestige of orgasm rippled though her
|
|
beaten body. Groggy, she looked up from the floor where she sat,
|
|
propped against the wall. Just as she did so, a flash went off...
|
|
and then another.
|
|
Dazed, the blonde teenager looked around. She was lying,
|
|
practically naked, against the wall, her green dress a shapeless
|
|
mess around her waist. A group of people - the guests at the
|
|
party - were standing around, looking down on her and laughing. A
|
|
few of them had cameras and were using them. She heard the word
|
|
"slut" and "whore" coming up in conversation.
|
|
Were they talking about her?
|
|
Just as had happened before, the orgasm seemed to have
|
|
burned away the effects of the drugs, leaving Stacy clear-headed
|
|
and sober. Sobbing with embarrassment, she stumbled to her feet,
|
|
breasts bobbing merrily, clutching her dress around her as the
|
|
crowd laughed.
|
|
Another flash went off.
|
|
The dress didn't seem torn, and she quickly had it back over
|
|
her tits, but she was unable to zip it up on her own. Eyes
|
|
downward, she pushed her way through the crowd, looking for...
|
|
"Peter!"
|
|
He was standing with a couple of guys near the entrance to
|
|
the kitchen, drinking a beer. "What... what are you..."
|
|
He looked over at her and smirked. "I'd heard that you had
|
|
become quite a slut since my days at Greenwood. I just wanted to
|
|
see if it was true."
|
|
Stacy stopped talking and began to cry. Yet another flash
|
|
went off.
|
|
"Stop it," she cried, spinning around to strike out at
|
|
whoever was taking the picture. The blow missed, however, and she
|
|
succeeded only in letting the front of her dress flop forward
|
|
again. Two pictures were taken of her re-exposed breasts before
|
|
she was able to cover up.
|
|
Furious, she turned back to Peter. "Take me home," she
|
|
ordered. "Now."
|
|
Peter just laughed. "Are you kidding? Get home yourself, you
|
|
slut." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar
|
|
bill. "Take this," he said, handing it to her. "There's a bus
|
|
depot just down the block. There are buses to Bakersville every
|
|
couple of hours."
|
|
Stunned, she held the ten dollar bill in her hand, staring
|
|
at him. Eventually, she turned and stumbled through the laughing
|
|
crowd to the door, still holding her unzipped dress around her.
|
|
"And Stacy," Peter called out from behind her.
|
|
She turned; maybe he was going to give her a ride after all.
|
|
"You were worth every penny."
|
|
The crowd roared with laughter as Stacy, tears running down
|
|
her face, ran out into the cool night air...
|
|
|
|
END PART NINE-A
|
|
|
|
=================================================================
|
|
|
|
- Two more parts to go (yeah, some ten-part story). Please feel free
|
|
to write with your comments etc.
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Cheers,
|
|
--
|
|
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org
|
|
|
|
Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side? And hain't that a big
|
|
enough majority in any town? --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"
|
|
|
|
From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 04:01:56
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:02:35 +0100
|
|
Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
|
|
Subject: Repost: PARKER: Stacy's Senior Year 9b/10 (mf, nc)
|
|
Message-ID: <2272382@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
|
|
Hello,
|
|
|
|
this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
|
|
requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
|
|
Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
|
|
email to you. If you want it, save it now.
|
|
|
|
MINI-FAQ:
|
|
|
|
- Please post stories only to this group. If you are fed up with other
|
|
people posting crap here, consider sending them a friendly, short message
|
|
telling them that they are breaching the charter of this group, and that
|
|
they should take their talk to another, more suitable group.
|
|
|
|
- Ignore stupid and offensive posts, ala "AOL r00lz/sucks", "<het|gay>
|
|
off this group", etc. pp. Rest assured that other people find this as
|
|
offensive as you do - no need to point it out to everybody. Chances are
|
|
that it was a troll, anyways. If you must vent some steam, send email,
|
|
post to alt.sex.stories.d, or forward the offending post to the person's
|
|
postmaster.
|
|
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
Subject: STORY: Stacy09B
|
|
From: an31072@anon.penet.fi (PARKER)
|
|
Date: Wed, 22 Sep 1993 02:23:56 UTC
|
|
|
|
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
|
|
(PART NINE-B)
|
|
by Parker
|
|
|
|
WARNING: This story contains any number of things which
|
|
could cause offence: blackmail, humilation, non-consensual
|
|
intercourse, D&S and all that sort of good stuff. If you are
|
|
offended by this kind of thing, STOP READING. This is not
|
|
for you. Consider yourself warned.
|
|
- This is (once again) the ninth part of a ten-part story.
|
|
For those of you who have been patient enough to get through
|
|
the previous eight parts, go ahead. If you haven't yet done
|
|
so, I suggest you read them before reading this.
|
|
|
|
Copyright 1993 (whatever that means). Feel free to
|
|
spread as many copies about as you wish, but I would
|
|
appreciate it if you would spread these copies in their
|
|
original form along with the original attribution. I
|
|
want all of the blame/credit; after all, I did all the
|
|
work. That's all.
|
|
|
|
Once again, I am sorry to say that I will not re-post or send out
|
|
any copies of this story. I apologise about this, but it costs me
|
|
money. If you need previous episodes, consult the Laff mailserver
|
|
(e-mail to laff@sal.cs.uiuc.edu with the phrase "Filesend: help"in
|
|
the body of the text). Alternatively, if someone else wants to
|
|
re-post the stories, go ahead.
|
|
=================================================================
|
|
|
|
Stacy recognized the house.
|
|
She had been there once before; the night of the "party" she
|
|
had attended. The party with the guys from BCN. She blushed
|
|
furiously as she remembered what she could of the events of that
|
|
night; the sight of the house brought them flooding back over her
|
|
in a wave of shame. Stacy looked at Ashley sitting beside her in
|
|
the back seat of Sharon's car. Ashley glared back at her. Ever
|
|
since what had happened last January - when Stacy had done her
|
|
part to render Ashley vulnerable to the blackmail - Ashley had
|
|
refused to have anything to do with Stacy. Stacy didn't blame
|
|
her. She just wanted the girl to drink the alcohol; to prepare
|
|
herself.
|
|
She didn't know yet. She didn't know what was going to
|
|
happen inside the house. Perhaps that was why she was so
|
|
reluctant to drink when Sharon had handed them the thermos. This
|
|
time, it contained some sort of wine cooler. Stacy had sucked
|
|
hungrily at the alcohol. She had a pretty good idea of what would
|
|
be expected of them that night, and knew that she would need all
|
|
the help she could get from Gary's drugs. Ashley, not really
|
|
understanding what was going on, took a couple of sips when Stacy
|
|
handed it over, but had to be ordered by Sharon before she would
|
|
drink any more. Karen was also in the car - in the front seat
|
|
beside Sharon - but she was strangely quiet. She just sat there
|
|
in silence, staring straight ahead out the front window.
|
|
"OK," Sharon ordered brightly, "let's go."
|
|
She opened her door and slid out of the car. Stacy and
|
|
Ashley followed suit, but Karen remained where she was. Sharon
|
|
bent down and looked at her.
|
|
"You sure you don't want to come in?" she asked. "It'll be
|
|
fun." Karen shook her head and looked away.
|
|
Sharon just shrugged her shoulders and closed the door.
|
|
Gesturing at the two other girls to follow her, she began walking
|
|
up towards the house.
|
|
|
|
The large living room had clearly been specially arranged
|
|
for the party. Most of the furniture had been moved out, leaving
|
|
only a big, yellow couch in the centre of the space. Instead of
|
|
the tables, chairs and other bits of furniture that had been
|
|
there a few months ago, the boys had laid out a bunch of bare
|
|
mattresses. The BCN Barracudas had just finished up a winning
|
|
season, and the guys were ready to party. They were crowded
|
|
around the big couch - all fourteen of them - beers in hand,
|
|
waiting for the big entrance. Sharon smirked at them as she stood
|
|
by the door. Perfect. Time to get the show on the road.
|
|
"Gentlemen," she cried out theatrically over the catcalls
|
|
and hooting, "I give you your entertainment for the evening. May
|
|
I present..." She swung open the door. "Cumslut, who some of you
|
|
know from before..."
|
|
Stacy - Cumslut - entered the room. She was wearing a short
|
|
black miniskirt and bright pink tank top. A pair of black
|
|
stockings ran from just below the hem of the skirt down to her
|
|
feet, which had been forced into bright red, four inch pumps. She
|
|
was having some trouble walking in them, but Sharon had insisted.
|
|
In fact, Sharon had fastened shut the ankle strap with a small
|
|
lock; Stacy would be wearing the pumps until Sharon chose to
|
|
unlock them. Her hair was combed out, flowing down over her bare
|
|
shoulders in a blonde wave, and her face was made up in the same
|
|
overdone, sluttish manner it had been done the first time she had
|
|
been here. She tried to force a smile and look sexy as she
|
|
entered the room, following Sharon's instructions, but it wasn't
|
|
easy. Thankfully, the drug was starting to have its customary
|
|
affect on her, and she began to feel the familiar, welcome tingle
|
|
in her crotch.
|
|
"...and Melons."
|
|
Ashley - Melons - followed close behind, wearing even less
|
|
than Stacy. All she had on was a red garter belt, which held up a
|
|
set of black, fishnet stockings. Her outfit was completed by a
|
|
pair of pink lace panties and a black, pushup bra. Her breasts,
|
|
always her most prominent feature, jutted out magnificently, the
|
|
nipples clearly visible over the top of the bra. Like Stacy, she
|
|
also wore a pair of four inch pumps, locked onto her feet by the
|
|
ankle strap. Ashley also tried to smile and look sexy, but was
|
|
unable to manage anything other than a frightened grimace. She
|
|
was feeling nothing from the alcohol they had been given to
|
|
drink. There was no comfortable disassociation or warm tingling
|
|
in her pussy.
|
|
Just fear.
|
|
With a cheer of approval, the members of the BCN Barracudas
|
|
surged forward to begin their party.
|
|
|
|
It had been a good season for Terry Brooks. A freshman at
|
|
BCN, he had quickly found both a place on the first string of the
|
|
Barracudas and acceptance at the almost all-white school. Terry,
|
|
a tall wiry black boy from Oregon, had been expecting things to
|
|
be difficult at BCN, but that hadn't proved to be the case.
|
|
Everything had come together nicely. First, a place on the team;
|
|
then a winning season with him as the star receiver; and now
|
|
this: prime white teenage pussy. The kind of thing he could only
|
|
dream of at home. God, he loved California! Utilizing the speed
|
|
which had made him a star on the football field, he was the first
|
|
to reach Cumslut, the short blonde one. He liked them blonde;
|
|
young, blonde and horny.
|
|
Like this one.
|
|
He threw his arm around her and crushed his lips to hers.
|
|
She responded almost immediately, her tongue welcoming his into
|
|
the wet confines of her mouth. While they kissed, he slipped his
|
|
other hand down, under the miniskirt and up into her crotch. She
|
|
wasn't wearing any panties. He slid his finger into her pussy; it
|
|
was already wet. She moaned into his mouth as they kissed.
|
|
What a slut!
|
|
Unable to hold himself back, Terry pushed her down backwards
|
|
onto a mattress and climbed aboard. She fell back, legs spread
|
|
invitingly. He fumbled at his zipper until his cock hung free. It
|
|
was hard and ready for action. Cumslut gasped as he fell onto her
|
|
and jammed it into all the way into her cunt with one powerful
|
|
surge of his hips.
|
|
Almost immediately, she began to pump against him, trying to
|
|
suck it in even further.
|
|
Stacy felt the orgasm hit just as the black guy came. The
|
|
feel of his warm sperm boiling out into her pussy sent her over
|
|
the edge into a rising wave of pleasure that overwhelmed all
|
|
other considerations. All thoughts of shame, humiliation or pain
|
|
were washed away in the screaming, writhing, crushing surge of
|
|
ecstasy which slammed through her beautiful body. Gasping and
|
|
writhing, Stacy screamed her pleasure until she crested the top
|
|
and began to settle back down.
|
|
The black guy, a strange look on his face, pulled out of her
|
|
and pushed himself to his feet.
|
|
"Fucking hell," he called over his shoulder as he backed
|
|
away, "she's a hot bitch."
|
|
In the back of her mind, Stacy realized she should be
|
|
feeling something at this, but couldn't remember what it was. All
|
|
she knew right now was that she needed some more cock. Now! The
|
|
guys were more than obliging. Almost immediately, she was dragged
|
|
onto her hands and knees, and a cock stuck into her sopping
|
|
pussy. She ground her tight ass back to meet the impaling thrusts
|
|
of the guy fucking her.
|
|
Another cock appeared in front of her face. Instinctively,
|
|
she grabbed at it and began sucking...
|
|
|
|
Sharon laughed as she watched Stacy writhe on the floor
|
|
under the black guy. She was observing the event through the
|
|
viewfinder of her father's camcorder. The guys at BCN had been a
|
|
little hesitant at her filming their party, but when she offered
|
|
them the girls at half price, they had quickly agreed. As well,
|
|
Sharon had assured them that the video was only for personal use.
|
|
And, of course, she had promised them a copy.
|
|
She continued to film as Stacy's moans and cries got louder
|
|
and more passionate. Finally, Stacy writhed and screamed her way
|
|
through the biggest orgasm Sharon had ever seen; all captured for
|
|
posterity...
|
|
|
|
Ashley turned and tried to run as the guys from the football
|
|
team surged towards her, but she was unable to move effectively
|
|
in the high-heels. She stumbled against a wall, and was quickly
|
|
caught. The football player who grabbed her was obviously a
|
|
lineman of some sort; he was well over six feet tall and must
|
|
have weighed close to 300 pounds. He spun her around to face him
|
|
and began to paw at her tits as they jutted invitingly over the
|
|
skimpy pushup bra.
|
|
"Melons, huh?" he grunted, a stupid grin on his face. His
|
|
breath smelled of beer.
|
|
"P-please..." Ashley began to whimper in fright. All
|
|
Sharon's instructions about how she was to behave... all the
|
|
warnings about blackmail and pictures fled from her mind. All
|
|
that mattered was getting away from this nightmare.
|
|
The lineman moved one hand down and began to scratch roughly
|
|
at her crotch. Ashley, now crying, dropped her hands from where
|
|
they had been trying to protect her breasts and pushed at the
|
|
offending hand, but it was no use. Ignoring her attempts to stop
|
|
him, he grabbed at her panties and jerked them away from her
|
|
crotch. The delicate elastic held for a moment, but then snapped.
|
|
The useless panties were quickly dropped to the floor.
|
|
"Please," Ashley whispered, trying to steady herself against
|
|
the wall. She tried to slide away, but she was unable to get any
|
|
purchase on ground with the pumps.
|
|
The guy slid his cock free from his pants. It was rock hard.
|
|
"OK, Melons," he sneered, "here it comes."
|
|
Ignoring her cries, he inserted his cock into her dry pussy
|
|
and began to push. Pinned, standing against the wall, the tall
|
|
brunette could only wriggle in pain as the cock ground, inch by
|
|
painful inch, into her cunt.
|
|
Finally, it was fully inserted. Grunting with effort, he
|
|
started to fuck it in and out of her as she stood against the
|
|
wall, moaning and crying on the impaling cock.
|
|
|
|
Sharon filmed Stacy for a few moments more as the blonde
|
|
teenager eagerly accommodated the two cocks, one in her mouth and
|
|
one in her ass, and then stopped the camera. They had more than
|
|
enough material on Stacy; it was time they got a little more on
|
|
Ashley. Despite all that they had done for her, Karen had been
|
|
less then forthcoming about her activities with the brunette, and
|
|
Sharon wanted some dirt of her own. She looked over at the other
|
|
girl.
|
|
Ashley was pinned with her back against the wall, being
|
|
fucked by a hulking brute of a football player. Sharon brought
|
|
the camera up and began filming just as he came. Ashley wriggled
|
|
around like a fish on a hook as her cunt was filled with his
|
|
sperm and then fell limply to the floor when he pulled away.
|
|
The guy was immediately replaced by another "customer".
|
|
Ashley was pulled onto a mattress, rolled on her back and then
|
|
impaled by another cock while two other guys held her long legs
|
|
spread wide. Unlike Stacy, however, Ashley was clearly not having
|
|
a good time. She screamed and struggled as the football player
|
|
pumped his cock in and out of her pussy. Her fists were futilely
|
|
smacking against his muscular back as he fucked her, unaware or
|
|
uncaring of her response.
|
|
Sharon stopped filming.
|
|
There was no point in filming a rape. The stuff with Stacy
|
|
was safe, as she was so obviously participating, but Ashley was
|
|
clearly being forced. While Sharon had no problem with that (in
|
|
fact, she kind of enjoyed it), such a tape could land them all in
|
|
jail.
|
|
She bit her lip as the older girl was brutally raped in
|
|
front of her. Why was the drug not working on her?
|
|
|
|
The cock twitched and then spurted warm, sticky sperm all
|
|
over her face, but Stacy didn't care. She just wanted more. By
|
|
now, she had serviced at least six guys: two in her cunt, another
|
|
three, four or maybe five in her hot, sucking mouth. Stacy didn't
|
|
care. She just wanted more. Her mouth hung open, tongue extended,
|
|
waiting for another cock to fill it up. She felt another guy
|
|
kneel down behind her. Spreading her thighs, the blonde slut
|
|
leaned back, her pussy aching to be filled. Instead, she felt the
|
|
cock push against her ass cheeks and then into her ass itself.
|
|
But Stacy didn't care; she just wanted more. Squealing with
|
|
pleasure, she eased herself back, impaling her nether-hole on the
|
|
cock. She heard the guy groan as he began to pump himself in and
|
|
out.
|
|
Moaning with lust, she reached up a hand and began to use
|
|
her fingers to scrape the cum from her face and slide it into her
|
|
mouth.
|
|
"God, what a slut!"
|
|
But Stacy didn't care...
|
|
Cumslut didn't care...
|
|
|
|
The brunette - "Melons" the fat girl had called her - tried
|
|
to scramble away off the mattress after Jeff had finished with
|
|
her, but two guys grabbed her and held her down on her back. She
|
|
kicked and screamed, but was unable to fight her way free.
|
|
Billy "Headhunter" Hawkins looked down on her as she
|
|
wriggled madly on the mattress. Her pussy looked red, raw from
|
|
Jeff's recent assault (Jeff was one well-hung dude! Wasn't that
|
|
the truth). One of her massive tits had popped free from the
|
|
questionable protection of the bra, and floppy freely as the girl
|
|
struggled to free herself.
|
|
"Well shee-it," he drawled. "Looks like Melons here needs a
|
|
cock up her cunt."
|
|
Melons stopped struggling and looked up, her eyes wide with
|
|
horror as the beefy linebacker undid his belt and let his pants
|
|
slip down to his ankles. His cock, its tip already glistening,
|
|
hung down in front of him.
|
|
"Looks good, huh girl?" Hawkins played with it, stroking it
|
|
to its full size. It didn't take long. "Ten inches of prime
|
|
Mississippi man-meat."
|
|
"Please..."
|
|
Laughing, Hawkins lowered himself to his knees and fell
|
|
forward on top of her, crushing her breasts beneath his great
|
|
weight. It only took a moment before his cock was inside of her
|
|
tight, warm pussy...
|
|
|
|
Something snapped.
|
|
Maybe it was the cock in her asshole. Maybe it was the taste
|
|
and feel of the sperm which half-covered her face. But, something
|
|
snapped.
|
|
A sudden, overwhelming wave of orgasms rumbled up from her
|
|
battered pussy and washed over her abused body as the lone cock
|
|
sawed in and out of her ass. Screaming wildly, Stacy - Cumslut -
|
|
thrashed about, orgasm after orgasm shooting through her. The guy
|
|
riding her asshole could only grab onto her thighs and hold on as
|
|
she bucked wildly beneath him...
|
|
|
|
Hawkins looked up from where he was fucking brunette.
|
|
She was no longer fighting, having given up the struggle as
|
|
another guy - Stadler, the centre - had shoved his cock between
|
|
those gorgeous lips and into her pleading mouth. She just lay
|
|
there now, limp and accepting as the two football players fucked
|
|
her helpless body.
|
|
Someone was screaming.
|
|
Hawkins stopped moving - leaving his cock buried deep inside
|
|
Melon's tight teenage cunt - and squinted across the room to see
|
|
what was happening. Stadler, however, ignored screaming; he just
|
|
continued sliding his spit-glistening cock in and out of the
|
|
brunette's mouth.
|
|
It was the blonde slut. She was bucking and screaming while
|
|
Pete Brindle held on for dear life.
|
|
"YES... YES... YES..."
|
|
She seemed almost crazed as she bounced up and down under
|
|
Pete's dead weight. Finally, the football player was able to hold
|
|
on no longer. His grip on her sweaty thigh slipped free, and he
|
|
was thrown off. His cock flapped wildly in the air as he rolled
|
|
off the mattress and slammed into the couch.
|
|
The girl stopped thrashing as the cock left her ass and
|
|
started to look about frantically, her green eyes wild with lust
|
|
and her left hand sawing in and out of her dripping pussy.
|
|
"Cocks," she cried. "I need cocks... fuck me; fuck me...
|
|
pleeeeeeeeeze..." She looked about, but everyone in the room was
|
|
frozen with shock.
|
|
Frustrated, she fell back on her ass and spread her legs
|
|
invitingly.
|
|
"Please fuck me," she begged. Her other hand was now playing
|
|
roughly with her breasts. "Fuck Cumslut... fuck Cumslut..." She
|
|
continued to masturbate, muttering to herself as she reached
|
|
another, smaller, orgasm.
|
|
"Please,"she begged quietly, shuddering in the aftermath of
|
|
the orgasm. "Please fuck me... fuck Cumslut..."
|
|
|
|
Sharon watched open-mouthed as Stacy writhed sluttishly on
|
|
the mattress, mewling quietly and pleading to be fucked. She
|
|
would never have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her
|
|
own...
|
|
THE CAMERA!
|
|
Sharon looked down at the video camera as it hung uselessly
|
|
at her side. Fuck. Gary would kill her!
|
|
She looked up. The room had gone silent as everyone stared
|
|
at the blonde teenager on the mattress. Stacy was now scraping
|
|
cum from her tits and licking it off her fingers. Even the player
|
|
fucking Ashley had stopped moving. The only movement from the
|
|
room came from the big guy pumping is cock in and out of Ashley's
|
|
mouth. He had his eyes closed, and seemed to be off in his own
|
|
world, as he fucked the beautiful brunette's face.
|
|
No one else moved.
|
|
'Christ,' Sharon thought. 'I'd better do something quick
|
|
before the whole night's ruined.'
|
|
A groan came from the other end of the room. The guy fucking
|
|
Ashley's mouth finally came, shooting sperm into her mouth and
|
|
then onto her outraged face as she tried to turn away. She
|
|
coughed and choked, but wouldn't swallow.
|
|
The guy looked up, opening his eyes. Everyone was staring at
|
|
him except Ashley, who was busy coughing up his sperm.
|
|
"Jeez," he muttered, puzzled at the attention.
|
|
Sharon had an idea.
|
|
"OK," she cried, quickly moving forward to the centre of the
|
|
room. "So much for round one."
|
|
All eyes in the room now turned to her. Nervous, she looked
|
|
about the room. Ahh... there it was.
|
|
"Pull that coffee table over," she ordered. Two of the
|
|
football players obliged. The coffee table had been slid up
|
|
against the wall at the back of the living room. It stood just
|
|
over two feet off the ground and was about four feet long. The
|
|
guys set it down in front of her.
|
|
"Good," she stated. "Now bring the sluts over here."
|
|
The guy who had been fucking Ashley pulled out and dragged
|
|
her to her feet. The tall brunette stumbled on the high-heels,
|
|
but was able to remain upright as he dragged her across the room
|
|
to the coffee table. Sharon pushed Ashley down on her knees at
|
|
one end of the table, facing over the table-top. When Ashley was
|
|
in position, Sharon pushed the top of her body downwards, so her
|
|
upper body was lying flat across the top of the table.
|
|
"OK, now..." Sharon turned, but no one had moved to get
|
|
Stacy. Everyone seemed a little spooked by her. She had been left
|
|
by herself on the mattress as she rubbed her fingers over her
|
|
inflamed pussy and muttered to herself.
|
|
"C'mon Cumslut," Sharon called at her. Stacy looked up.
|
|
"Here Cumslut." Sharon talked to her as if she were a dog.
|
|
"C'mon. Come get fucked."
|
|
"Fucked?"
|
|
That got her attention. Scrambling awkwardly to her feet,
|
|
Stacy stumbled over to the coffee table. Sperm dripped from her
|
|
mouth and pussy as Sharon placed her, kneeling, opposite Ashley
|
|
across the coffee table. When she pushed the squirming girl down
|
|
onto the top of the table, Stacy's and Ashley's faces met almost
|
|
exactly halfway across.
|
|
"Anyone got a couple of belts?" In short order, two belts
|
|
had been produced, and Sharon used them to secure the two girls
|
|
into position by wrapping them around their lower backs and under
|
|
the coffee table.
|
|
Sharon leaned forward.
|
|
"OK sluts," she whispered. "Lets see some lezzie stuff. The
|
|
guys need warming up."
|
|
Almost immediately, Stacy reached up (as best she could,
|
|
strapped in as she was) and cupped Ashley's face in her hands.
|
|
The brunette tried to pull away, but her movement was restricted
|
|
by the belt, and she was unable to get free. Slowly and gently,
|
|
Stacy pushed her face forward and planted a soft kiss on Ashley's
|
|
cum-stained lips.
|
|
|
|
Ashley quit struggling as she felt Stacy's lips, soft and
|
|
warm, on her own. She knew it was wrong, but it felt so good!
|
|
Particularly after all the rough treatment she had been
|
|
experiencing. Almost involuntarily, she parted her sticky lips
|
|
and moaned softly as Stacy's wet tongue slid into her mouth and
|
|
began exploring. In moments, the two girls were kissing
|
|
passionately, their tongues entwined. After the repeated, brutal
|
|
rapes of the past forty-five minutes, it seemed like heaven to
|
|
Ashley. The gentleness of the other girl's lips sent shivers of
|
|
pleasure shooting through her abused body.
|
|
The spell was broken when Ashley heard the guys start
|
|
cheering. She opened her eyes; both her and Stacy looked around
|
|
in panic as the members of the football team formed lines behind
|
|
them and, one at a time, slid their re-aroused cocks into the
|
|
girls' pussies. Ashley started to struggle at this new invasion,
|
|
but Stacy brought her hands up and cupped her face.
|
|
"Relax," the blonde teenager whispered. "It's easier."
|
|
Ashley started to spit out a retort, but was cut off by the
|
|
feel of Stacy's lips once again meeting hers. The brunette closed
|
|
her eyes and tried to relax; shutting out the world - shutting
|
|
out the sharp pain in her asshole as one of the players brutally
|
|
rammed his cock in - as if nothing else existed other than this
|
|
beautiful girl in front of her.
|
|
As if nothing else mattered other than the feel of her
|
|
soft, velvety lips as they writhed against her own...
|
|
|
|
Hawkins watched, gently massaging his cock, as the two
|
|
teenage sluts necked together while simultaneously getting their
|
|
asses reamed out by one guy after another. Jesus, it was hot! He
|
|
didn't, however, join the queue. He had unfinished business with
|
|
the brunette - Melons - and wanted to make sure he had her full
|
|
attention when he fucked her. He could see the way Ashley's
|
|
senses were closed to the world while his teammates fucked her
|
|
ass and cunt. Not like the blonde bitch. She was hot. She was
|
|
moaning and wriggling back against each cock as it impaled her
|
|
from behind. As far as he could tell, she had come at least four
|
|
times since the fat girl had belted her down to the coffee table.
|
|
She was really into the lez-bo stuff too; her and Melons were
|
|
going at it like a pair of bitches in heat.
|
|
Eventually, his chance came up, as the stream of football
|
|
players began to slack off a bit. They had each come at least
|
|
twice now, and those that wanted more were choosing the blonde
|
|
cunt. She fucked back, while the other - sexy a bitch as she
|
|
was - just lay there, unresisting.
|
|
Hawkins waited until there were no more guys waiting and
|
|
then moved forward to unstrap the tall brunette. She struggled as
|
|
he tore her away from her kiss with her blonde friend, but
|
|
offered no real resistance as he threw her down on a mattress.
|
|
She just stared up at him, wild-eyed, as he lowered himself
|
|
between her legs and once again thrust his cock into her sopping
|
|
pussy. This time he was going to cum inside her. The bitch began
|
|
to cry as Hawkins fucked her, but he didn't mind that.
|
|
Hell, it just meant she was paying attention.
|
|
|
|
Karen sat, motionless, in the front seat of Sharon's car,
|
|
staring blankly out the front window at the house. It had been
|
|
over an hour now. She should have taken Sharon's advice and gone
|
|
into the house to watch, but just the idea of those guys and what
|
|
they would do to her Ashley...
|
|
Karen shook her head, trying to banish those thoughts from
|
|
her mind. It had been a running battle to keep the brunette from
|
|
going out with guys from school. If that slut wanted cock so
|
|
badly, she was welcome to it. She would be getting a lot of it.
|
|
Karen would see to that. Even better, there was a lot of money to
|
|
be made, as Sharon had pointed out. Lots of cash.
|
|
So, why did she feel so sick just thinking about it? Why did
|
|
the mere thought of some big shithead of a male sticking his ugly
|
|
cock into Ashley make feel like crying?
|
|
Enough! Karen reached for the handle and pushed open the car
|
|
door...
|
|
|
|
Sharon had videotaped the entire scene on the coffee table,
|
|
and was now focusing on Stacy as the blonde slut began servicing
|
|
two guys: one from behind her as she knelt, strapped in place,
|
|
over the wooden surface, and one in her mouth as he straddled the
|
|
coffee table in front of her.
|
|
She continued to keep the camera away from Ashley, who
|
|
refused to become aroused. Sharon couldn't understand it; Ashley
|
|
had drank as much of the drug as Stacy, but she wasn't...
|
|
Realization dawned.
|
|
There was no drug! Gary hadn't been putting anything in
|
|
Stacy's drinks for three months now. The stuff in the thermos had
|
|
only been alcohol. Ashley was doing this straight!
|
|
Sharon stared open-mouthed as the tall brunette, tears
|
|
streaming down her face, was being fucked on the mattress. Then
|
|
she looked back at Stacy on the coffee table. If Ashley was doing
|
|
this without the benefit of the drug, then so was Stacy. On the
|
|
coffee table, Stacy groaned with pleasure as her body was wracked
|
|
with yet another orgasm.
|
|
The door behind her banged shut. Sharon whirled around to
|
|
see...
|
|
|
|
Karen ran into the room, her pudgy face red with exertion.
|
|
Where was... She stopped in her tracks as her eyes lit on the
|
|
mattress where some asshole was lying between Ashley's spread
|
|
legs, pumping his cock in and out while the tall brunette cried
|
|
and struggled beneath him.
|
|
Sharon reached towards her, but Karen shook off her hand.
|
|
"Get off of her, you asshole," she screeched, running
|
|
towards the mattress. Shocked, the guy looked up from where he
|
|
was fucking Ashley just in time to see Karen come barrelling
|
|
across the room towards him. He only had time to throw up his
|
|
hands as the fat teenager slammed into him with enough force to
|
|
make him think he was back on the football field. With a shout,
|
|
he fell back, his cock sliding out of Ashley's sopping cunt just
|
|
as he came. A wad of sperm flew up and sailed across the room,
|
|
splattering against the back wall.
|
|
"K-Karen?" Ashley looked up at her rescuer from where she
|
|
was cringing on the mattress, confused and frightened.
|
|
"It's OK honey," Karen said soothingly, bending down to help
|
|
the naked girl to her feet. "I've got you now."
|
|
The room fell silent as Karen helped the crying brunette to
|
|
her feet and then led her towards the door.
|
|
"What the fuck?" It was the guy she had knocked off of
|
|
Ashley. Karen looked up at him. For a moment, it seemed like he
|
|
was going to go after her, but he quickly backed down. He cock
|
|
still dripped sperm as it dangled, limp and wet, before him.
|
|
Karen led the trembling Ashley out through the front door
|
|
and into the open air.
|
|
|
|
The door slammed shut behind them.
|
|
Sharon, along with everyone else in the room, stood in
|
|
stunned silence. The only sound to be heard was a quiet slurping
|
|
from where Stacy continued to suck on the cock of the guy sitting
|
|
in front of her.
|
|
"Hey!" It was the guy Karen had knocked over; Hawker, or
|
|
something like that. "What the fuck was that all about?" He had
|
|
wrapped a towel around his waist. "We paid for two whores
|
|
tonight, not just one."
|
|
Sharon felt a moment of panic as the guys in the room turned
|
|
their attention towards her. She thought quickly.
|
|
"OK," she cried, "Fair enough. I'll return half the
|
|
money..." 'Karen's share, she thought grimly. "...and the video
|
|
will be free." She looked around, experiencing a tense moment.
|
|
Would they go for it?
|
|
Then the silence was broken as the guy Stacy was sucking
|
|
finally came, groaning loudly as he pumped his warm sperm into
|
|
her rapidly convulsing throat. Another guy cheered, and then the
|
|
tension broke as the guys converged on Stacy. The guy pulled his
|
|
now limp cock out of her mouth, and moved away.
|
|
He was quickly replaced by another player.
|
|
|
|
Karen helped Ashley into the back seat, slid in beside her
|
|
and shut the car door. She had draped her coat over the other
|
|
girl's shoulders, but, despite the warmth of the evening, the
|
|
tall brunette could not stop shivering. Besides the light coat,
|
|
Ashley wore only the fish-net stockings (now ripped) and the
|
|
locked-on pumps. Her upper body and thighs were covered with
|
|
bruises from where she had been roughly handled; her face and
|
|
tits were covered with rapidly-congealing sperm.
|
|
Karen felt like crying.
|
|
The heavy teenager reached up and put her arm around the
|
|
taller girl's shoulder. To her surprise, the brunette stopped
|
|
trembling and leaned into her. Ashley lay her head on Karen's
|
|
shoulder.
|
|
"H-honey... Ashley," Karen felt strangely tongue-tied. Her
|
|
throat had gone dry, and she had to swallow before continuing.
|
|
"I... I just want you to know that... uhm; I'm, like, s-sorry
|
|
about what - what happened in... in there." A tear began to
|
|
trickle down her face. "I d-didn't mean..."
|
|
She was interrupted by the soft touch of Ashley's finger on
|
|
her cheek, brushing away the tear. She looked over at the other
|
|
girl; she was so beautiful! Even through the tears and the
|
|
bruises and the dried sperm. She looked so...
|
|
"Karen..."
|
|
Ashley's voice was soft and hoarse.
|
|
"Karen..."
|
|
|
|
Stacy moaned and bucked as yet another of the football
|
|
players came in her pussy. The cock in front of her had exploded
|
|
in her face a few moments earlier, and she was still licking the
|
|
sperm off her lips. It had been over an hour since her last
|
|
orgasm, and the guys were at last beginning to slow down. She
|
|
must have fucked all of them at least three times. At least, it
|
|
felt like it. Her pussy had gone numb any number of fucks ago,
|
|
and the members of the football team had neither the skill nor
|
|
the inclination to give her clit the attention it needed to give
|
|
her pleasure. As a result, she was slowly coming out of the
|
|
pleasure-induced fog that had enveloped her mind earlier in the
|
|
evening.
|
|
The cock slid out of her pussy, leaving her cock-free for
|
|
the first time in hours. Almost immediately, she felt a hand at
|
|
grab ahold of her hair and drag her painfully to her feet. Dimly,
|
|
she opened her eyes to see what was happening.
|
|
It was Sharon.
|
|
Stacy winced, but didn't offer any resistance as she was
|
|
pulled across the room and forced to kneel on top of the coffee
|
|
table. Her balance, always precarious on the four inch heels,
|
|
failed her and she slipped backwards. Sharon, however, caught her
|
|
and shoved her back upright. Quickly, she turned the blonde
|
|
teenager around and positioned her so that she was leaning back
|
|
on her heels with her thighs spread wide. Her sopping red cunt
|
|
glistened in the light.
|
|
Sharon pulled the thermos out and handed it to the naked
|
|
girl. Anxious to recapture the pleasure she had felt earlier in
|
|
the evening, Stacy sucked hungrily at it, finishing what was
|
|
left. She burped slightly as Sharon took back the empty thermos.
|
|
"Now listen," Sharon muttered to her. "You're going to put
|
|
on a bit of a show for the guys. They're getting a bit worn down.
|
|
Do you understand?"
|
|
Stacy felt the now-familiar rush of the alcohol and drugs.
|
|
Confused, she shook her head as her well-used cunt began to
|
|
tingle.
|
|
"I'm going to ask you some questions," Sharon explained,
|
|
"You're going to answer to the camera. If you don't get them
|
|
excited again, and quickly, I'll see that this tape gets spread
|
|
around a bit. Is that clear?"
|
|
Stacy choked back the tears and nodded her head. She was
|
|
doing everything they told her to do; why the threats? She was a
|
|
good girl!
|
|
One hand reached down and began rubbing her pussy. Sharon
|
|
slapped it away.
|
|
"Not yet," she ordered. Obediently, Stacy let her hand fall
|
|
limply at her side. Sharon would tell her what to do.
|
|
|
|
Sharon stepped back and surveyed the scene. The football
|
|
players were all lined up against the walls, out of sight of the
|
|
camera, watching Stacy as she perched on the coffee table.
|
|
Perfect. The video camera had been set up to cover the shot from
|
|
the front, framing Stacy directly in the screen. Now,just one
|
|
more thing and they would be set up...
|
|
"Anyone ready for a blowjob?"
|
|
One of the big guys - the one who had been knocked over
|
|
earlier by Karen - stepped forward. His cock jutted out in front
|
|
of him, ready for action. Sharon nodded him towards Stacy and
|
|
watched as he moved forward to stand in front of her. Stacy, once
|
|
again trembling with lust, took the cock in her mouth and began
|
|
slurping away on it. The slut's hand wandered down to her cunt
|
|
and began sliding up and down.
|
|
Sharon moved in and whispered in Stacy's ear as she sucked.
|
|
"Two things, bitch." Stacy's eyes rolled towards Sharon as
|
|
she continued to work on the cock.
|
|
"First, you can play with yourself all you like, but don't
|
|
come until I say. Do you understand?" Stacy moaned an
|
|
acknowledgement.
|
|
"Second, when this guy comes, don't swallow. Hold it in your
|
|
mouth until I say otherwise." Stacy's eyes widened, but she once
|
|
again grunted in the affirmative.
|
|
Satisfied, Sharon backed away and watched as the blonde
|
|
teenager brought the guy to an orgasm and sucked his sperm into
|
|
her mouth. By the time he was finished, her cheeks were bulging
|
|
with the thick, white fluid.
|
|
OK. Everything was ready. Sharon hit the "record" button and
|
|
began talking to Stacy as she crouched on the coffee table facing
|
|
the camera, legs spread and cunt glistening.
|
|
"What's your name?"
|
|
Stacy looked confused.
|
|
"What's your name?" Sharon repeated, menacingly.
|
|
"S-Stacy," came the uncertain answer. "Stacy R-Richards."
|
|
A small trickle of cum dribbled out of her mouth and down
|
|
her chin. The blonde slut was still playing with herself and was
|
|
obviously very close to having an orgasm.
|
|
Sharon shook her head.
|
|
"What is your name?"
|
|
Understanding dawned on Stacy's cum-encrusted face. She
|
|
looked like she was about to cry.
|
|
"Cumslut," she answered quietly, trying to keep the cum in
|
|
her mouth. "My name is Cumslut."
|
|
Sharon smirked at her.
|
|
"What are you, Cumslut? What do you do?"
|
|
Stacy moaned, trying not to come. She looked beseechingly at
|
|
her tormentor, but Sharon just stared back at her.
|
|
"I'm a whore," the blonde answered, broken. "I'm a slut."
|
|
Her left hand, the one with almost-full charm bracelet, moved
|
|
faster and faster over her pussy.
|
|
"Please..."
|
|
|
|
"Karen..."
|
|
Ashley looked over at the girl who had pulled her out from
|
|
under the guy who had been raping her. The girl who had rescued
|
|
her.
|
|
"I... what you said about g-guys..." Karen's arm felt good
|
|
on her shoulder. It somehow made her feel safe and warm.
|
|
"You were right..."
|
|
The tall brunette fought back the tears. "You were right
|
|
about them..." She looked over at her rescuer. She saw the greasy
|
|
hair; the weight problem; the acne...
|
|
"Ashley..."
|
|
The other girl began to speak, but Ashley cut her off with a
|
|
finger on her lips.
|
|
"Karen," she whispered, "I just want you to know..."
|
|
|
|
"...let me come.
|
|
"What are you?"
|
|
By now, the cum was trickling steadily out from between
|
|
Stacy's lips as she babbled away.
|
|
"I'm a toy; a sex-toy. I need to be fucked all the time. I
|
|
love to have cocks up my ass and in my cunt and in my mouth."
|
|
Stacy - Cumslut - felt the waves of pleasure pulse up from
|
|
where her fingers rubbed frantically at her clit. In spite of the
|
|
humiliation - or as a result of it - she could feel another
|
|
orgasm building up inside of her.
|
|
"Please," she begged. "Let me come..."
|
|
"What are you?"
|
|
"I love cum. I love to suck it out of big juicy cocks. I
|
|
love to feel it dribble over my lips and all over my face."
|
|
She could feel her face reddening with intense humiliation,
|
|
but she was unable to stop herself. It wasn't her fault.
|
|
"Shit on me... piss on me... come all over me..."
|
|
It was the drugs. They did this to her. Gary and Sharon and
|
|
Neil could blackmail her all they wanted, but it was the drugs
|
|
that made her...
|
|
"I'm a slut," she wailed, feeling the orgasm slowly build in
|
|
her body. She stopped talking and looked over at Sharon.
|
|
"Let me come... please?"
|
|
Sharon looked at her for a moment and then nodded her
|
|
approval. It was time to bring this to an end.
|
|
Stacy brought her other hand down to her cunt and began to
|
|
thrust first one, then two and finally three fingers into her
|
|
hungry cunt, all the while rubbing furiously at her clit.
|
|
"I'm a cunt... I'm a bitch... I'm... Ahhhhh..."
|
|
Sharon watched in amazement as the blonde slut wailed and
|
|
cried her way into and through a massive orgasm. The sperm she
|
|
had been holding in her cheeks exploded outwards, drenching her
|
|
lower face and tits as she screamed and sobbed on the coffee
|
|
table.
|
|
What a slut!
|
|
Finally, Stacy crested the top of the orgasm. Sharon watched
|
|
as she slowly calmed down.
|
|
"Cumslut..." the blonde teenager mumbled, over and over
|
|
again, her fingers hard at work in her dripping cunt.
|
|
"...Cumslut..."
|
|
The room fell silent for a moment, but then Stacy began to
|
|
build herself back up again.
|
|
Sharon bit her lip as she watched. The bitch was going to
|
|
come again!
|
|
'I've got to tell her,' she thought to herself. Gary would
|
|
kill her, but...
|
|
Sharon waited until Stacy was just reaching the crest of yet
|
|
another orgasm. Then, after shutting off the camera, she walked
|
|
slowly forward and leaned in to whisper something into the slut's
|
|
ear...
|
|
|
|
Ashley hesitated momentarily, but then carried on.
|
|
"D-do you remember that day... at Stacy's. Where... where
|
|
you, uhm... spanked me?"
|
|
Karen nodded dumbly.
|
|
"I... well..." Ashley was obviously embarrassed. "Would
|
|
you... would you do it a-again?"
|
|
Karen just stared.
|
|
"I... I know I've been b-bad," the brunette stammered. "I
|
|
need to be punished; I n-need you to spank me." Ashley flushed
|
|
and looked away.
|
|
Karen felt a sudden flush of joy as she looked over at
|
|
Ashley. The brunette was looking down, unable to meet the other
|
|
girl in the eye. But that was alright. In fact, it was better
|
|
then alright!
|
|
"Yes darling," Karen answered. "Of course I'll give you a
|
|
spanking." She shifted slightly in her seat.
|
|
"Come here."
|
|
Moving carefully, her flesh bruised and aching from the
|
|
rough treatment in the house, Ashley spread her long, luscious
|
|
body out over Karen's lap, ass upwards.
|
|
Karen wasted no time. She immediately began administering
|
|
strong, rhythmic slaps to the well-presented ass. Soon, it was
|
|
shining red.
|
|
At first, the pain was great for Ashley, but that was OK;
|
|
she deserved it. After a while, however, the burning seemed to
|
|
fade away somewhat, and was replaced by a slow wave of pleasure
|
|
which spread steadily outward from where her pussy rubbed against
|
|
Karen's knee.
|
|
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Ashley kept repeating this
|
|
phrase as the pleasure built up and then took her over the edge
|
|
into an intense orgasm.
|
|
"Oh god..."
|
|
Crying, the tall brunette trembled and shook on the other
|
|
girl's lap.
|
|
Karen stopped slapping Ashley's ass and began to finger her
|
|
clit, quickly sending the other girl into a second, more intense,
|
|
orgasm.
|
|
Finally, it was over.
|
|
Ashley turned her tear and cum-stained face upwards and
|
|
looked Karen in the eye, her eyes wide with adoration.
|
|
"I love you," she whispered.
|
|
|
|
Hawkins slowly rubbed his hand along his rapidly hardening
|
|
cock as he watched the scene in front of him. He had already come
|
|
three times that night, but that blonde slut's performance on the
|
|
coffee table was making him hard again. Fuckin' A!
|
|
She was perched up on the coffee table, masturbating and
|
|
going on about what a slut she was and other stuff like that, all
|
|
the while dribbling his cum down her chin. This went on for a
|
|
long time until the fat chick told the slut she could finally
|
|
come, which she did almost immediately. What an orgasm! The bitch
|
|
thrashed about and screamed like she was having her tits mangled
|
|
or something. Hawkins had never seen anything like it.
|
|
After that, the fat girl turned off the camera and walked
|
|
towards the whore. She waited until it looked like the slut was
|
|
going to have another orgasm, then leaned in and whispered
|
|
something in her ear. Immediately, the blonde stopped frigging
|
|
herself and stared at the other girl, her eyes wide.
|
|
"No," the blonde whispered. "You're lying."
|
|
The fat girl just smirked and shook her head. Once again,
|
|
she muttered something to the slut on the coffee table, and then
|
|
turned to walk away.
|
|
"You're lying," the blonde yelled at her retreating back.
|
|
"It's n-not true." She had started crying; tears streamed down
|
|
her face, making trails in the dried cum. Her entire body was
|
|
wracked with violent sobs. Hawkins noticed that her left hand
|
|
began to move again.
|
|
The fat girl laughed. She picked up the video camera and
|
|
walked to the door.
|
|
"You're lying," the blonde screamed from her perch on the
|
|
coffee table.
|
|
"You're lying!"
|
|
The other girl turned.
|
|
"No," she said quietly, "I'm not. No drugs; not tonight and
|
|
not since January."
|
|
Sharon paused and looked Stacy up and down as the bitch
|
|
crouched, wailing, on the coffee table. Her blonde hair was
|
|
matted with sweat and cum; her face, once beautiful, was red and
|
|
splotchy with tears and sperm; her lithe body was bruised and
|
|
caked with dried sperm. And, all the while, her left hand
|
|
continuously frigged at her exposed pussy, the metal charm
|
|
bracelet glinting mockingly in the light.
|
|
"Slut."
|
|
Sharon looked up at the football players standing at the
|
|
back of the room. To a man, they were hard again.
|
|
"She's all yours," she said, smirking. "Just get her back in
|
|
one piece."
|
|
She turned and walked out the front door.
|
|
"Nooooo!!" The blonde bitch broke down, sobbing and crying
|
|
as the members of the football team moved towards her.
|
|
|
|
END PART NINE-B
|
|
|
|
=================================================================
|
|
|
|
- Sorry for the long delay between 9a and 9b; it was due to technical
|
|
difficulties beyond my control (or understanding, as it turned out). At any
|
|
rate, here it is. Hopefully, 10 will be posted a little quicker. Please feel
|
|
free to send along any comments and suggestions. I am not able to answer all
|
|
the mail, but it is all appreciated.
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Cheers,
|
|
--
|
|
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org
|
|
|
|
Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side? And hain't that a big
|
|
enough majority in any town? --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"
|
|
|
|
From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 04:02:21
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:02:36 +0100
|
|
Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
|
|
Subject: Repost: PARKER: Stacy's Senior Year 10/10 (mf, nc)
|
|
Message-ID: <2272383@spectre.ka.sub.org>
|
|
|
|
Hello,
|
|
|
|
this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
|
|
requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
|
|
Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
|
|
email to you. If you want it, save it now.
|
|
|
|
MINI-FAQ:
|
|
|
|
- Please post stories only to this group. If you are fed up with other
|
|
people posting crap here, consider sending them a friendly, short message
|
|
telling them that they are breaching the charter of this group, and that
|
|
they should take their talk to another, more suitable group.
|
|
|
|
- Ignore stupid and offensive posts, ala "AOL r00lz/sucks", "<het|gay>
|
|
off this group", etc. pp. Rest assured that other people find this as
|
|
offensive as you do - no need to point it out to everybody. Chances are
|
|
that it was a troll, anyways. If you must vent some steam, send email,
|
|
post to alt.sex.stories.d, or forward the offending post to the person's
|
|
postmaster.
|
|
|
|
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
|
|
Subject: STORY: Stacy10
|
|
From: an31072@anon.penet.fi (PARKER)
|
|
Date: Sat, 25 Sep 1993 21:51:32 UTC
|
|
|
|
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
|
|
(PART TEN)
|
|
By Parker
|
|
|
|
WARNING: This story contains any number of things you may
|
|
not want to read about: blackmail, humiliation, non-
|
|
consensual sex, D&S and all that sort of bad stuff. This
|
|
story is NOT POLITICALLY CORRECT. If you do not enjoy
|
|
fantasizing about this kind of activity, STOP READING right
|
|
now, before it is too late. Really. You can't say you
|
|
weren't warned.
|
|
- This is Part Ten of a ten-part story; if you don't know
|
|
what that means, you may as well go ahead and read this part
|
|
first, 'cause the plot will be way too complicated for you
|
|
anyway <grin>.
|
|
|
|
Copyright 1993. Feel free to distribute this story as
|
|
you like, but please use some discretion. As well, I
|
|
would appreciate it if you would leave both the text
|
|
and the attribution unchanged. Thanks.
|
|
|
|
=================================================================
|
|
|
|
In due course, Stacy was elected Homecoming Queen.
|
|
It was no great surprise, either to her or to anyone else.
|
|
The only possible competition - Ashley Peters - had more or less
|
|
dropped out of the race in the last month. Ashley no longer moved
|
|
in the kinds of social circles from which Homecoming Queens were
|
|
inevitably chosen. Stacy, for all of her sexual activities at
|
|
Greenwood over the previous nine months, still enjoyed at least
|
|
the appearance of respectability. While the word was out among
|
|
most of the guys at school (and more than a few of the girls)
|
|
that Stacy was a cocksucking slut, nothing could really be
|
|
proved, particularly to those who mattered: the teachers and
|
|
parents. And, if Stacy dressed a little more daringly during the
|
|
course of her senior year and went out on lots of dates, well...
|
|
there was nothing really wrong with that as long as she kept her
|
|
marks up in school (and her grades in her final year were the
|
|
highest of any student ever to attend Greenwood).
|
|
So, a little wildness - a little rebelliousness - was to be
|
|
expected and tolerated. She was a teenager, after all.
|
|
Indeed, her now well-known willingness to fuck and suck just
|
|
about any guy in school actually helped her get elected, in an
|
|
odd sort of way. There were six male students on the Grad
|
|
Committee, which selected each year's Homecoming Queen. Stacy had
|
|
fucked two of them during the course of the year, and - just
|
|
before the crucial election - had given each of the six a blowjob
|
|
out in the school parking lot.
|
|
Sharon's "suggestion". But Stacy didn't really mind too much
|
|
at this point. After some of the things that had happened to her
|
|
over the course of the school year, giving blowjobs in a parking
|
|
lot was almost relaxing. She was more or less used (or at least
|
|
resigned) to the taste of cock in her mouth, and only two of the
|
|
guys actually made her swallow. She hated that. Against her will,
|
|
she found herself almost thankful that they only wanted to fuck
|
|
her mouth. Since the incident at the second football party, she
|
|
had found herself once again unable to get excited when having
|
|
sex.
|
|
Just like in the beginning.
|
|
|
|
The fourth of the six guys she sucked off was the long-
|
|
awaited number sixty-five.
|
|
She hadn't even realized it at the time. It wasn't until she
|
|
made her regular report to Gary that he had pointed this out to
|
|
her. Number sixty-five! She was done; finished; no-longer-a-sex-
|
|
toy. It was a dazed and confused Stacy who had admitted Gary and
|
|
Sharon to her house later that same afternoon. She had been
|
|
almost certain that they would not release her as they had
|
|
promised, but that seemed to be exactly what was happening. Right
|
|
after school, the two blackmailers brought over a small box of
|
|
material - four videotapes and a large number of still pictures -
|
|
and handed them over without comment. Gary even gave her advance
|
|
copies of her final exams. She had almost forgotten about them,
|
|
and was certainly not prepared. She was so surprised, she found
|
|
herself feeling genuinely thankful.
|
|
That feeling, however, only lasted until they had gone and
|
|
she had a chance to go through the material. She quickly re-
|
|
discovered that familiar sense of loathing for her (former)
|
|
tormentors.
|
|
Before the hour was up, she had burned the pictures and the
|
|
videotape lay in crumpled ribbons at her feet. No one was ever
|
|
going to have that kind of power over her again! She had also
|
|
ripped off the charm bracelet, but in doing so had involuntarily
|
|
sent the shiny "F"s sailing loose across her bedroom. She had
|
|
located many of them, but they still turned up once in a while,
|
|
in a pillow or under a seat cushion.
|
|
No matter.
|
|
The remaining two weeks of school shot by. Exams were held
|
|
the week of the 21st of June. With the aid of the stolen exam
|
|
papers, the first four exams were a breeze. During the fifth
|
|
exam, however...
|
|
|
|
Stacy stared down at the exam paper, eyes widening with
|
|
shock. This wasn't the test she had prepared! Desperate, she re-
|
|
read the questions, even flipping the paper over the make certain
|
|
that she hadn't missed something. Nothing. The questions didn't
|
|
even begin to resemble those that Gary had supplied her with.
|
|
Gary! This must be his idea of a joke. She felt tears of
|
|
rage well up inside her and spill over onto her face, but there
|
|
was nothing she could do about it now. Or ever, for that matter.
|
|
She knew that she lacked the will to confront Gary with this
|
|
latest torment. Besides, what could she do about it? She doubted
|
|
that the school authorities would have much sympathy for her
|
|
plight.
|
|
Feeling sick to her stomach, she got down to work, answering
|
|
the questions as best she could. By the end of the exam, she felt
|
|
that she had done pretty well, despite her lack of preparation;
|
|
the material wasn't that difficult, and she had always considered
|
|
herself smarter than most of the other students at Greenwood
|
|
anyway...
|
|
The final two exams went fine; the supplied exam papers
|
|
matched exactly the ones supplied to her by Gary. Stacy was
|
|
almost willing to believe that the incident had been an honest
|
|
mistake on Gary's part. Almost.
|
|
Not that it mattered.
|
|
It had now been over a week since she had fucked anybody. A
|
|
whole, wonderful week of doing and saying whatever she wanted!
|
|
She'd had to refuse quite a number of "offers", but that was
|
|
turning out to be almost enjoyable. It gave her no small amount
|
|
of satisfaction to let those jerks know exactly what she thought
|
|
about them. In fact, she was beginning to feel more and more like
|
|
her old self every day.
|
|
The same, however, could not be said of Ashley. She was a
|
|
new person. Physically, the change was obvious. Gone was the
|
|
long, brown hair and girlish clothing. Instead, she now sported a
|
|
mannish crew cut, combed back and gelled on top and had gotten
|
|
both of her ears triple-pierced. She even wore a shiny, silver
|
|
stud in her nose. The clothing was different too. No more dresses
|
|
and frilly blouses; she now basically wore only black jeans and
|
|
dark tee-shirts. Just the same as Karen.
|
|
The changes were more than just physical. After the night of
|
|
the football party at BCN, Ashley had quickly drifted away from
|
|
her old group of friends and started spending all of her time
|
|
with Karen. Eventually, they became inseparable, and could often
|
|
be seen holding hands and even - the rumour went - kissing in the
|
|
woods behind the school. Ashley soon joined her girlfriend in
|
|
social isolation, but she didn't seem to mind much. Neither did
|
|
Karen.
|
|
On the Monday of the last week of school, Stacy had resolved
|
|
herself to attempt to talk to her old friend, but when she tried
|
|
to locate her, she quickly found out that Ashley and Karen had
|
|
left school a week early (right after exams) to go on a camping
|
|
trip together. Ashley's puzzled mother had confided to Stacy that
|
|
Ashley had withdrawn her application for a position at a major
|
|
university back east and, over the strenuous objections of her
|
|
father, had instead decided to attend college at BCN next year.
|
|
Her parents were both mystified at this change of plans.
|
|
Stacy could have told her why, but kept her silence.
|
|
Karen had one more year of highschool in Bakersville...
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
"Excuse me, Ms. Peabody?"
|
|
Stacy stood in front of the secretary's desk, clutching the
|
|
pink slip which had informed her of the principal's wish to see
|
|
her "immediately". The last week of classes was more of a
|
|
formality than anything else - checking in books and materials -
|
|
so there had been no problem in leaving the class to answer the
|
|
principal's summons. His secretary, a tall, thin women with her
|
|
gray hair pulled back in a severe bun at the back of her head,
|
|
took the slip and stared at it.
|
|
"And you are Stacy Richards?"
|
|
The older woman stared suspiciously at the teenager, as if
|
|
suspecting her of being an imposter.
|
|
'Yeah,' Stacy thought to herself sarcastically, 'like I
|
|
really want to be here'.
|
|
"Yes," she answered politely. "Dr. Grossman wants to see
|
|
me?"
|
|
'Probably something about being this year's Homecoming
|
|
Queen,' she mused.
|
|
"So it would appear." The secretary picked up the phone,
|
|
pushed a button and spoke into it.
|
|
"A Stacy Richards here to see you, sir." There were a few
|
|
moments of silence and then she nodded briskly.
|
|
"Go right in; he's expecting you."
|
|
Stacy entered the principal's large office. It was set in
|
|
the back of the school building, giving it a good view of the
|
|
playing fields and then the forest stretching out behind
|
|
Greenwood. The principal, Dr. Randall Grossman, sat behind a
|
|
large oak desk. He had short, jet black hair which had recently
|
|
begun the long retreat up his forehead. His large, dark eyes
|
|
peered out from behind his bifocals. Despite this seemingly mild
|
|
appearance, the principal had a strong physical presence about
|
|
him. He had experienced little or no trouble in intimidating the
|
|
students (and staff, for that matter) into compliance with his
|
|
policies. As a result of his abilities, Greenwood regularly had
|
|
one of the highest academic records in the state.
|
|
The students, of course, hated and feared him, and Stacy was
|
|
no exception. Grossman did not hesitate to expel a student when
|
|
he saw the need and had even, on one memorable and well-
|
|
publicized occasion, been instrumental in the criminal conviction
|
|
of a student who had been caught with a stolen exam paper. Stacy,
|
|
perhaps better than anyone, remembered this.
|
|
"Miss Richards." His voice was high; surprisingly
|
|
effeminate. "Please... have a seat."
|
|
Stacy sat as the school principal opened a white folder and
|
|
removed a sheet of paper from it. He glanced at the form and then
|
|
looked up at her.
|
|
"Stacy," he began, "your marks this year have been the best
|
|
we've ever seen from a student at Greenwood. I've personally
|
|
never come across such a consistently brilliant student."
|
|
"Thank you," Stacy said, breathing a small sigh of relief.
|
|
She hadn't been expecting trouble, but you never knew.
|
|
"That's why I was so surprised at your History test," the
|
|
principal continued.
|
|
"What?"
|
|
"History 12," he explained, handing the piece of paper over
|
|
to her. It was the cover sheet of her exam paper in the History
|
|
class; the one Gary had given her the wrong paper for. It had a
|
|
"49" marked on top of it in bright red pen.
|
|
Forty-nine!
|
|
Stacy felt like she was going to throw up. That was a
|
|
failing grade. Her hand trembled as she held the sheet. After
|
|
everything that had happened to her this year; and now...
|
|
"Summer school," Dr. Grossman said, as if reading her mind.
|
|
"If you fail a course, you have to make it up over the summer."
|
|
He stared at her as she turned pale. "You know that, don't you?"
|
|
White as a sheet, Stacy nodded, not trusting herself to
|
|
speak.
|
|
Summer school!!!
|
|
|
|
A tiny smile played across Dr. Grossman's mild face as he
|
|
noted the girl's reactions. They were perfect; and so was she. A
|
|
real find. Ever since Mr. Edgar's tearful confession the previous
|
|
week, Grossman had been looking forward to this moment. He had
|
|
always fantasized about something like this - getting control of
|
|
one of the beautiful young sluts in his school and imposing his
|
|
"tastes" on one of them - but he had never dared try it before
|
|
now. There was too much at risk: his job, his career, his
|
|
reputation; and there was always The Club whenever he felt the
|
|
need to indulge himself.
|
|
The Club! What wonderful things they could think of to do
|
|
with this teenage slut; what wonderful things they WOULD do to
|
|
her... if his plan worked.
|
|
And it should. It should work. If Edgar's description of
|
|
events was at all accurate, there was every reason to believe
|
|
that his plan would unfold exactly as he hoped. First, however,
|
|
he wanted to test the water. See how she reacted...
|
|
|
|
Stacy thought quickly. She couldn't go to summer school. She
|
|
just couldn't! Taking a deep breath, the teenager regained
|
|
control of herself and looked over at the principal. He sat
|
|
staring at her appraisingly. Maybe. It worked with Edgar; why not
|
|
with...
|
|
"Young lady," he said sternly, breaking the silence, "is
|
|
there anything you wish to say or... do to convince me to
|
|
exercise my discretionary powers in favour of giving you a
|
|
passing grade."
|
|
He stared at her from behind his bifocals.
|
|
"I can do that, you know."
|
|
Stacy wasn't stupid. She knew what he was talking about.
|
|
"S-sir," she stammered, flushing red. "I'll do whatever I
|
|
have to do to pass; whatever you w-want." The blonde teenager
|
|
fought down the bile which rose in her lovely throat. She was
|
|
supposed to be finished with this bullshit.
|
|
Dr. Grossman raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"
|
|
"Yes sir," she answered quietly.
|
|
They understood each other.
|
|
Moving suddenly, the school principal leaned forward in his
|
|
chair and punched a button on his intercom.
|
|
"Ms. Peabody," he ordered. "Hold all my calls and visitors
|
|
for the next two hours. And call Gardner to the office. He can
|
|
wait out there." The secretary acknowledged the orders.
|
|
Dr. Grossman sat back in his chair and stared over at the
|
|
trembling teenager. She looked so delicious, sitting there in her
|
|
tight jeans and pink top, her beautiful blonde hair done up in a
|
|
long braid.
|
|
"OK Stacy," he said. "Here's the deal." He got to his feet
|
|
and walked slowly across the room towards her.
|
|
"Stand up against the desk."
|
|
She did as ordered. The large oak desk came up to just below
|
|
her crotch.
|
|
"Now, bend over and grab these drawer handles."
|
|
Once again, Stacy did as ordered. She was now bent over the
|
|
desktop, stretched out with her hands just reaching the two
|
|
drawer handles.
|
|
"Now," the principal continued, running his gaze
|
|
appreciatively up and down her body "if you can hold that
|
|
position for the next two hours, you pass. But if, for any
|
|
reason, you let go of those handles... well, we'll be seeing you
|
|
at summer school. Do you understand?"
|
|
"Yes sir," Stacy answered quietly. Her fingers curled
|
|
tightly around the small metal handles as she prepared herself
|
|
for the worst. A tear trickled down one cheek and fell onto the
|
|
desktop. She had a pretty good idea of what would soon be
|
|
happening...
|
|
|
|
Harold Gardner was a big man. He was also a black man. He
|
|
worked as a janitor and general handyman at Greenwood High, a
|
|
position he had held ever since he had been personally hired by
|
|
the school principal, Dr. Grossman. He and Grossman went back a
|
|
long ways. They had similar tastes in certain... activities, and
|
|
both enjoyed membership in an exclusive Club. When Gardner had
|
|
lost his job at City Hall because of his criminal record,
|
|
Grossman had been happy to take him in and provide him with
|
|
employment. No blackmail or anything like that; just one friend
|
|
doing another friend a favour.
|
|
Gardner looked over at Ms. Peabody and smiled. The secretary
|
|
looked over and acknowledged his smile. She too was a personal
|
|
appointee of Dr. Grossman and, like Gardner, she was a member of
|
|
the Club. Grossman had discussed his plans for Stacy with her a
|
|
couple of days earlier and, although she was somewhat concerned
|
|
about the risks, she had agreed to go along with it. If it
|
|
worked...
|
|
A rhythmic slapping sound came from the principal's office.
|
|
It had been going on for about twenty minutes now, and showed no
|
|
sign of abating. Gardner and Peabody looked at each other and
|
|
smirked; they had a pretty good idea of what was happening in
|
|
there.
|
|
Five minutes later, the sound stopped. The door to the
|
|
principal's office opened and Grossman looked out. His face was
|
|
flushed red, and damp with sweat.
|
|
"Ah, Mr. Gardner," he said. "I wonder if you could help me
|
|
with a little 'matter' in here."
|
|
"Ah'm sure ah can," Gardner answered, getting to his feet.
|
|
"Is there anything I can do," Peabody asked hopefully.
|
|
Grossman shook his head.
|
|
"I'm afraid I need you out here," he answered. "You have to
|
|
hold my calls and keep people out of the office for the next
|
|
little while. Later though..."
|
|
He smiled promised much as he closed the door.
|
|
Ms. Peabody shivered and reached one hand down to massage
|
|
her pussy as she imagined what was going on in the office.
|
|
|
|
Gardner didn't have to imagine any more.
|
|
The blonde slut (as he thought of her) was lying across the
|
|
oak desk, grasping onto a couple of drawer handles as if her life
|
|
depended upon it. The janitor was somewhat surprised to see that
|
|
she was not tied down in any way, but said nothing. Grossman knew
|
|
what he was doing.
|
|
Her jeans and panties were down around her ankles, and her
|
|
tight teenage ass was beet red from the spanking the principal
|
|
had been administering to her for the last half hour or so.
|
|
"Harold," Grossman said, puffing slightly from his
|
|
exertions. "Stacy here was just saying how much she fancied
|
|
sucking on a black cock while I spanked her." He brought his hand
|
|
down sharply on the teenager's quivering ass.
|
|
"Isn't that right Miss Richards?"
|
|
Stacy flinched and squirmed when he hit her, but her hands
|
|
remained tight around the door handles.
|
|
"Y-yes sir," she answered, gritting her teeth against the
|
|
pain. "I'm afraid I m-might make too much noise while... while
|
|
being spanked..."
|
|
"And..."
|
|
Stacy groaned with humiliation.
|
|
"S-sir..." This was addressed to the janitor. "Would you put
|
|
your cock in my mouth please? If I have a c-cock to suck on... I
|
|
won't make so much n-noise."
|
|
The blonde teenager squirmed on the desk as Grossman fondled
|
|
her beet red ass.
|
|
"Well Harold," the principal asked. "Will you help her out?"
|
|
Gardner, his cock already straining against his overalls,
|
|
quickly agreed. In a flash, he was seated behind Grossman's desk,
|
|
pulling out his large, black cock and feeding it to the crying
|
|
teenager as bent over in the desk in front of him. She gagged,
|
|
but soon accommodated it in her mouth.
|
|
"Suck it, bitch," he ordered, cuffing her on the side of the
|
|
face. Obediently, she began to bob her head up and down. Hands
|
|
still firmly gripping the drawer handles, she began to slurp
|
|
hungrily at his cock. She was good.
|
|
"Feels good, you little cocksucker," he complimented her.
|
|
"You've sucked plenty of cock before."
|
|
Stacy groaned in humiliation as she slid her mouth up and
|
|
down on his cock, but didn't pull away.
|
|
She just kept sucking.
|
|
Even when Grossman continued the spanking, this time using a
|
|
wooden yardstick, whacking away at her ass until it was bruised
|
|
red and blue. Even when Gardner quickly came, spurting cum into
|
|
her sucking mouth and down her throat; she just sucked him dry
|
|
and then kept on sucking as he became hard again. Even when
|
|
Grossman, panting and gasping from his sadistic exertions,
|
|
finally stopped whacking her flaming bottom with the yardstick
|
|
and jammed his near-bursting cock first into her dry cunt, and
|
|
then into her tight asshole. She just kept sucking and squirming
|
|
until finally, both men let loose, flooding her with cum from
|
|
both ends.
|
|
Even then, she just kept sucking until finally Gardner
|
|
pulled out of her mouth.
|
|
Grossman, exhausted, leaned against the desk. His face had
|
|
turned an alarming shade of red, but there was a vicious smile on
|
|
his face. "OK," he said. "That's enough. You can let go now."
|
|
Stacy tried, but her hands were so tightly wrapped around
|
|
the handles that it took her several seconds to tear them loose.
|
|
Groaning with pain and humiliation, she brought one hand up and
|
|
wiped ineffectually at the glistening sperm which covered her
|
|
lower face. The two men watched as she then bent over and slowly
|
|
pulled her panties and then jeans over her shining red ass,
|
|
covering the thin trail of sperm which trickled down her thigh.
|
|
Finally, she was dressed. She turned her tear-stained face
|
|
towards the principal.
|
|
"T-the test," she mumbled, dazed with pain.
|
|
Grossman reached over, grabbed a pen and wrote a large
|
|
"Pass" on top of it.
|
|
"Well done, Stacy," he congratulated her, still gasping. "I
|
|
just wish all of the students here at Greenwood were as dedicated
|
|
as you are."
|
|
Stacy ignored the taunt. Moving carefully, she turned and
|
|
limped out of the office.
|
|
"Jesus," Gardner muttered. "Yer jus' gonna let her walk
|
|
outta here like that? What a loss. Everyone in the Club will
|
|
wanna hear 'bout..."
|
|
"The Club will meet her soon enough," Grossman chuckled,
|
|
reaching into a desk drawer and pulling out a cassette tape.
|
|
"We're not done with her yet..."
|
|
|
|
Friday, the second of July.
|
|
The last day of school at Greenwood High.
|
|
The school seemed quiet, already half-deserted as a good
|
|
proportion of the students were skipping the final hours in
|
|
favour of starting their summer holiday a day early. Really, the
|
|
only reason to attend the last day was to pick up the school
|
|
yearbook and say goodbye to one's friends. The yearbook was
|
|
mailed out anyway, and, with more kids on the beach than in the
|
|
school, there was no real reason to say goodbye.
|
|
Stacy Richards walked slowly along the quiet hallway,
|
|
rucksack full of gym equipment in one hand and school yearbook in
|
|
the other. Still in pain from the severe spanking administered to
|
|
her earlier in the week, she would have preferred to have stayed
|
|
at home, but her duties as a Rec Instructor had required her
|
|
presence at school to check through and store the class sports
|
|
equipment. Actually, she would have preferred to be on the beach
|
|
with her friends, but her ass was in no shape for a swimsuit.
|
|
Maybe in a couple of weeks, but not now.
|
|
She walked up to her locker and began to dial the
|
|
combination on the lock when she became aware of a giggling
|
|
behind her. Turning, she saw three girls, from a lower grade,
|
|
looking at her and laughing. One of them was pointing to an open
|
|
yearbook.
|
|
"What's so funny?" she asked, angry. She wasn't used to
|
|
being treated this way by her social inferiors at school.
|
|
Unintimidated, the girls just laughed and continued down the
|
|
hall.
|
|
Puzzled, she watched them go. What was going on? Stacy
|
|
looked around. Suddenly paranoid, she noticed that others were
|
|
looking at her as well. Some of them were just grinning at her
|
|
while others flipped through their yearbooks, laughing and
|
|
whispering. The seemingly deserted school hallway now seemed full
|
|
of laughing, whispering students. What was happening?
|
|
Locker forgotten, Stacy placed her rucksack on the floor and
|
|
opened the yearbook. Everything seemed normal as she flipped
|
|
quickly through the book; just the typical high school
|
|
yearbook...
|
|
The page flipped open to the sports section.
|
|
"Oh god..." Stacy sagged up against her locker, suddenly
|
|
weak.
|
|
|
|
WOULD STACY RICHARDS PLEASE REPORT
|
|
TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE
|
|
(the PA system)
|
|
|
|
Stacy ignored it, staring at the picture which covered half
|
|
a page. It was under the heading "Swim Club", but rather than the
|
|
entire team, it just displayed Stacy. She was posed in a
|
|
swimsuit; one of the too-small swimsuits Sharon had forced her to
|
|
wear during the second photo session. The suit had been soaked,
|
|
and her nipples clearly showed through the thin fabric of the
|
|
suit as she knelt, knees widely spread, licking a large, pink
|
|
dildo and staring seductively at the camera.
|
|
Gary!!
|
|
That bastard. She didn't know how he had managed it, but it
|
|
was him alright. Panicking, she began to turn the pages to the
|
|
"R" section of the grade twelves. If he had put that picture in
|
|
the sports section, what had he...
|
|
It was her picture; and she recognized it. She was dressed
|
|
in the tight, pink rubber dress Sharon had produced for the first
|
|
photo session, leaning forward, hands pushing up her breasts and
|
|
a look of passion - no, lust - on her beautiful face. She looked
|
|
like a complete slut.
|
|
Her stunned gaze slipped down to the text below the picture:
|
|
'Girl most likely to... do just about anything.' Under that was a
|
|
tiny "happy-face" with the sentence 'I fucked Stacy Richards'
|
|
beside it. Horrified, the panicking teenager scanned the
|
|
remaining pictures on the page. Under the photograph of Terry
|
|
Rhymer was three of the "happy-faces"; she had fucked him three
|
|
times during the year. The pages of the book flipped through her
|
|
fingers, coming to rest in the grade eight section; there were
|
|
rows and rows of "happy-faces" under Tim Myers' picture.
|
|
The yearbook slid out of her numb fingers and dropped to the
|
|
floor as the full realization of what had happened sunk into her.
|
|
During the course of her torment, she had been sustained by one
|
|
goal: to keep what was happening secret - to maintain her
|
|
position at Greenwood. Now...
|
|
There must be a way. Most of the yearbooks hadn't been given
|
|
out yet. If she acted quickly, she could stop the mailout and
|
|
maybe even get most if not all of the books recalled.
|
|
|
|
WOULD STACY RICHARDS PLEASE REPORT
|
|
TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE!
|
|
(the PA system)
|
|
|
|
She didn't even hear it.
|
|
Moving as fast as she could, she raced through the
|
|
combination on her locker and jerked it open, determined to stow
|
|
the rucksack and get to the principal's office as soon as
|
|
possible. As she did so, however, a small stack of material -
|
|
glossy magazines - slid out onto the hallway floor. Alarmed,
|
|
Stacy reached down and picked one up. It was a porn magazine,
|
|
entitled CUMSHOT and it had...
|
|
For the second time in as many minutes Stacy felt herself
|
|
unable to breath as panic swept through her body. She was on the
|
|
cover of the magazine! The full-colour photograph featured a
|
|
sharp close-up of her face as she lapped hungrily at a string of
|
|
cum running from her mouth to a large cock. Neil's cock, she
|
|
realized, recognizing the scene.
|
|
"What's this?"
|
|
It was another student - Stephanie Bowers; Stacy had stolen
|
|
her boyfriend in grade ten. The girl bent over to pick up a
|
|
magazine: YOUNG THINGS.
|
|
"Give me that," Stacy yelled, inadvertently attracting the
|
|
attention of a number of other nearby students. She grabbed the
|
|
magazine out of the other girl's hand and tossed it into her
|
|
locker. Then she dropped to her knees and gathered up the
|
|
remaining publications - TEENAGE SLUTS, CUMHUNGRY - and likewise
|
|
put them away.
|
|
|
|
WOULD STACY RICHARDS PLEASE REPORT
|
|
TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE!
|
|
(the PA system)
|
|
|
|
She didn't even notice it.
|
|
Stacy slammed the locker shut and locked it. A small crowd
|
|
of students had gathered around to see what the fuss was, but the
|
|
magazines were safely locked away.
|
|
"Fuck off," she cried at them, tears running down her face.
|
|
They watched silently as she ran off in the direction of the main
|
|
office. She had to get those yearbooks recalled!
|
|
|
|
Stephanie watched her go, puzzled. Usually Stacy was so
|
|
cool; so superior. What had happened to her? She gazed
|
|
speculatively at Stacy's locker. It looked like she'd never...
|
|
Wait a moment.
|
|
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small slip of
|
|
paper with three numbers on it. She had found it stuffed into her
|
|
locker that morning. The numbers looked like combination numbers.
|
|
Could it be?
|
|
As she moved forward to try it out, she noticed two or three
|
|
of the other students in the crowd were also pulling out small
|
|
pieces of paper and looking at them. With mounting excitement,
|
|
Stephanie began to enter the numbers...
|
|
|
|
Stacy barged through the door and charged into the school
|
|
head office. No one was there. Frantic, she ran behind the
|
|
counter and into the administrative section of the school. There
|
|
must be someone...
|
|
"There you are!"
|
|
It was Ms. Peabody. She walked angrily towards the panicked
|
|
teenager. "We've been calling you to the office for ten minutes
|
|
now. Are you deaf?"
|
|
"Ms. Peabody," Stacy began, ignoring the secretary's tirade,
|
|
"you've got to recall the yearbooks. Someone has..."
|
|
She was cut off as Ms. Peabody grabbed her by the ear and
|
|
began dragging her down the hall towards the principal's office.
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"Oww..." Stacy stumbled along behind her, trying to pull
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away but the pain was too much. Finally, they arrived at the
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office. The secretary knocked on the door and then pushed it open
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without waiting for an acknowledgment. She used her grip on
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Stacy's reddened ear to propel the reluctant teenager into the
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office and then entered behind her, closing the door.
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Rubbing her ear, Stacy looked around. Dr. Grossman sat
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behind the desk, a serious look on his face.
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"Stacy," he said, "sit down."
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"Sir," Stacy began breathlessly, "The yearbook... you have
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to..."
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"SIT DOWN!"
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Startled, Stacy fell silent and dropped into the seat
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|
directly opposite the desk.
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|
"This is a very serious matter," the principal explained
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|
grimly. "I've just had some important evidence brought to my
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|
attention regarding your academic performance this year."
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|
"S-sir?"
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Stacy flinched as she felt a hand at her shoulder. It was
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Ms. Peabody, standing behind the chair.
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|
"I found this cassette tape in my mailbox," Grossman
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|
continued, pulling a small tape deck out of his desk. "Listen."
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He punched the play button. Stacy listened. Almost at once,
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|
she heard the sound of her own voice:
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|
<"I heard you have a copy of next week's English exam. Is
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|
that true?"
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|
"Why do you want to know?">
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|
Stacy felt an absurd sense of deja vu as she listened in
|
|
panicked disbelief.
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|
<"I want a copy of that exam. I need it for this weekend."
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|
"Stacy, you mean you want a copy of a stolen exam paper so
|
|
you can cheat on next Monday's English test."
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|
"Yes. I need it to pass the exam... I'll pay money. How
|
|
about $100? Please?"
|
|
"Alright, I'll sell you the stolen exam paper for $100. Will
|
|
that be all, Stacy, or do you want any more exams? I can probably
|
|
get whatever you want."
|
|
"That sounds great. I'll buy whatever you can get for the
|
|
classes I'm in. $100 a paper."
|
|
"It's a deal. Meet me tomorrow after school in the
|
|
woodworking shop. It should be deserted on Friday afternoon...
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|
Don't forget the money.">
|
|
The hissing stopped for a second as the tape fell silent.
|
|
Stacy struggled to get to her feet, but the secretary held her
|
|
down, her hand firmly pressing down on the teenager's shoulder.
|
|
"There's more," she whispered menacingly.
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|
Stacy knew that. She knew exactly what was coming.
|
|
Trembling, she listened as the voices began once again:
|
|
<"Well," her voice again, "Do you have it?"
|
|
"I've got it. One stolen English exam paper for Stacy
|
|
Richards. And my money?">
|
|
There was a brief moment of silence, and they the sound of
|
|
paper being crinkled.
|
|
<"It's all there; you don't have to worry about that... now
|
|
or in the future."
|
|
"Fine, It's all yours."
|
|
"Thanks.">
|
|
The voices fell silent, and she heard a door slam: the shop
|
|
door slamming when she left the room. The hiss slowly faded as
|
|
the recording came to halt.
|
|
Stacy went limp, yearbook forgotten; magazines forgotten...
|
|
Nothing mattered anymore. How could that one incident of cheating
|
|
on the math test have brought her to this? She brought her hands
|
|
up to cover her face.
|
|
The school principal hit the "stop" button. He looked over
|
|
at her, struggling to hold back a smile.
|
|
"I think you know what this means young lady," he told her.
|
|
She knew. Oh... she knew.
|
|
Ms. Peabody, still keeping her hand firmly on the blonde
|
|
teenager's shoulder, bent down put her lips to Stacy's ear.
|
|
"Summerschool," she whispered. Her tongue flicked out and
|
|
licked at Stacy's ear.
|
|
"I'm sure," Dr. Grossman continued, watching with glee as
|
|
his secretary slid her hands down and began mauling the breasts
|
|
of the unresisting teenager, "that this summer will be a learning
|
|
experience for all of us..."
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|
|
|
THE END???
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|
=================================================================
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|
- That's all folks; this is the last STACY story in existence.
|
|
Will there ever be any more? Well, I have obviously left things open
|
|
for a sequel (STACY'S SUMMER SCHOOL?), but it won't be for a long time,
|
|
if ever. I've had enough of this particular story line for a while.
|
|
- Thanks for all the e-mail with comments and suggestions. For
|
|
all of you who enjoyed this story, why not try writing something yourself?
|
|
I like to read as well as write.
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-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
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Cheers,
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--
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Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org
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Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side? And hain't that a big
|
|
enough majority in any town? --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"
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