STACY'S SENIOR YEAR By Parker WARNING: This story contains blackmail, non-consensual sex, D&S, humiliation and all that sort of good stuff (although, not in every instalment). This story is not politically correct! If you do not enjoy this sort of thing, DON'T DOWNLOAD THIS FILE!
SSY-01.TXT
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART ONE)
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story contains blackmail, non-consensual
sex, D&S, humiliation and all that sort of good stuff
(although, not in every instalment). This story is not
politically correct! If you do not enjoy reading about
this sort of thing, STOP NOW (before it is too late).
- This is the first part of a ten part series.
=================================================================
Neil was the one to notice it: Stacy Richards cheating on an examination!
He nudged his friend Gary and pointed towards the front of the class.
"Check it out," he whispered.
Gary saw, but couldn't believe what he was seeing. Stacy Richards - the
ice-queen cock tease of the senior class at Greenwood High - was staring
intently at a slip of paper hidden on her desk under the exam. Just then,
Mr.Edgar, the teacher, coughed quietly and shifted position in his seat at the
front of the class. Stacy quickly pushed the cheat-sheet back under the exam
paper and looked up guiltily, her face flushing a pretty shade of red. If
Mr.Edgar had glanced over at her at that moment he would certainly have known
that something was wrong with her. But why would he be checking out Stacy
Richards, who had been getting straight A grades ever since she had begun
attending Greenwood High four years ago? Instead, he turned his attention to
Neil French and Gary Syms, who were the class trouble-makers: Neil with his
long, greasy hair and semi-stylish ripped clothes and Gary with his cynical,
cutting sense of geek humour. Sure enough, they were grinning and whispering
together at the back of the classroom rather than writing the exam.
"French... Syms," he called out, drawing himself laboriously out of his
chair and up to his rather unimpressive full hight, "Front of the class."
No longer smiling, the two boys got up and walked slowly forward, the
centre of attention, with everyone in the class looking up at them from their
exams. Neil noticed Stacy smirking at him with her typical, haughty sneer.
Bitch, he thought, we'll see who's laughing in a second.
"Mr.Edgar," he blurted as he reached the front of the room, "We saw..."
He was cut off by Gary elbowing him subtly, but stiffly, in the side. He
drew in a breath to continue speaking, but he was interrupted by the angry
teacher.
"You two have been nothing but trouble since you started this class in
September," Mr.Edgar announced, his full white moustache quivering with
indignation. "I can no longer allow you to disrupt this class with your
infantile jokes and games, particularly during exams."
Neil started to protest, but was again cut off by Mr.Edgar, who had worked
up a full head of steam.
"You have both failed this examination. You will apologise to the class
for the disruption, and then you will leave." He glared at the two boys. "Do
you understand?"
Both boys nodded a sullen 'yes'.
"Any further problems," the teacher finished his pronouncement of
sentence, "And you will be removed from this class permanently. Perhaps you
will be able to make up the course in summer school."
Gary didn't react, but Neil looked up in alarm. That was about the most
serious threat a teacher could make, short of outright expulsion. Bakersville
was a beach town in southern California, and summer was by far the best time of
the year, particularly for the teenagers. Being forced to waste the summer
months inside the stuffy high school while everyone else partied on the beach
was about the worst fate a teenager could suffer.
Apparently cowed, Neil and Gary turned around and stammered out an
embarrassed apology to the class. A few kids giggled - Neil noted that Stacy
was one of them - but most looked away, uncomfortable at the humiliation of
their fellow students. The two boys then filed out of classroom and into the
hallway.
*****
Stacy shrugged her blonde hair off her shoulder and looked back down at
the examination as the class returned to normal. Thank god those two geeks were
gone, she thought, and tried to put Neil and Gary from her mind. In her world,
there were "people" and there were "geeks", and Neil and Gary definitely fell
into the latter category. She wouldn't even have known their names except that
Neil had spent the better part of the first term of the previous year following
her about, and had even asked her out on a date. As if! She had refused in as
cruel a manner as she knew how (which was pretty cruel), and had later asked
Pete, her then boyfriend and captain of the football team, to beat Neil up,
just to warn him off. Pete had dutifully administered the beating, and Neil had
backed off. She had soon afterward broken up with Pete - he had lost his place
on the football team that spring - and had put the entire episode from her
mind.
Reluctantly, she turned her attention back to the exam. She frowned down
at the test, as if she could intimidate the answers off the written page.
Questions which had been easy for her a year ago now seemed impossibly hard.
Stacy was quite intelligent, and had always gotten almost perfect marks at
school, but lately the constant burden of socializing - cheerleading,
beachparties, student council etc. - had left her little time for schoolwork.
As a result, she had found herself approaching the first set of school exams of
her senior year completely unprepared. And if she did poorly or - unthinkable -
failed, she would loose her record of straight As, and would probably fail to
be elected Homecoming Queen, the goal toward which she had been working for the
last few years. Hence, she had decided to make a few crib notes to get her
through the first round of exams. After that, she told herself, she would get
back on track with the schoolwork.
Looking around to make certain she was unobserved, she pushed the exam
paper upwards to expose the notes she had written on the cheat-sheet...
*****
Neil smouldered with anger as walked down the hall with Gary. That had
been the perfect chance to get back at that bitch Stacy, and Gary had blown it
for him! Neil's thoughts lingered on Stacy as he grumbled to himself.
Stacy was one of those unattainable high school princesses who enjoyed
showing herself off, but didn't put out. With her shoulder-length blonde hair,
perfect face (large green eyes, pert nose and thick,pouty lips), and athlete's
body (she was a member of both the swim team and the track team), she was
easily the most beautiful girl in Greenwood, and every male student's dream.
But dream she remained for most. She moved exclusively in the highest high
school social circles, and only went out with sports stars and the like. Neil
had developed a crush on her earlier the previous year, and it wasn't until she
had sent that football jerk to beat him up that he got over her. The fact was,
she only noticed guys like Neil (and Gary, for that matter) when they bothered
her, and she had to put them off (or "...out of their misery..." as Neil had
once heard her laughingly remark to one of her friends).
The two boys left the school by the side entrance and began to walk across
the south parking lot. Finally, Neil could contain himself no longer.
"Why'd you shut me up in there?" he complained, "I had that bitch right
where I wanted her. I owe her."
Gary just smiled at this, making Neil uncomfortable. Where Neil was loud
and obnoxious, Gary was quiet and strange. Despite the fact that the two had
been friends for a number of years, Gary was still capable of unnerving his
larger friend with his strange smile and even stranger ideas.
"What's so funny?" Neil asked nervously.
"You're right," Gary answered quietly, "We do have her where we want her,
but not in the way you mean."
Neil was puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"If you had told on her back in the classroom just now, Edgar might or
might not have believed you. Probably not; you know he doesn't like us. And if
not - if Stacy had managed to hide her cheating - we would have been kicked out
of the class for good, and been stuck in summer school. And even if he had
caught her, at most she would have failed the exam, if that. The teachers love
her. Then she would set her friends on us."
"But..." Neil began.
"You remember Pete."
Neil could only nod glumly in agreement, recalling the beating he had
suffered last year. Stacy had no shortage of friends on the football team.
"So," he said finally, "You said we had her where we wanted her."
"Yes, I did," Gary agreed.
"How?"
By now, the two boys had reached Gary's car, a large, black Pontiac. Gary
unlocked the doors before answering.
"If she's cheating now on a math test," he explained, "she must be in
trouble with her schoowork. She's always gotten top marks in math."
"Yeah?" Neil was still confused. "So?"
"So," Gary continued patiently, "It's a pretty safe bet she'll cheat
again. There's an English test coming up next week, and I don't think a little
cheat-sheet will be of much use to her. You have to have read the material." He
started up the car and began to pull out of the parking space. Neil thought
this over as Gary manouvered the vehicle out of the school parking lot and onto
the road.
"So," he asked finally, "What do we do about it?"
"I'll tell you when we get to Sharon's place," Gary answered, "We'll need
her for what I have in mind."
*****
Sharon was Gary's friend and sometime girlfriend. Neil was never really
sure about their relationship - he knew that they went out and that they
occasionally had sex, but he also knew that Sharon did the same with at least a
couple of other guys. Gary, however, didn't seem to mind, so Neil had decided
to take things at face value. He had even made something of a pass at Sharon at
a beach party last summer, but had been rebuffed. He was philosophical about
it; Sharon wasn't really his type anyway.
The girl in question appeared in the doorway, answering their knock. A
year younger than the two boys, Sharon was short and heavy, with large breasts
and curly, brown hair. Any suggestion of cuteness, however, was quickly
dispelled by her hard face and small, piggy (Neil thought) eyes. If there was
any beauty there, it was definitely in the eye of the beholder. She was smoking
a cigarette as she answered the door.
After a quick greeting (and an obligatory "hello" to Sharon's mother -
propped up, as usual, in front of the television), Sharon led the two boys down
to her basement bedroom, locking the door behind her (Sharon's parents were
"progressive", and felt that she needed her privacy). Neil accepted a cigarette
and flopped down into a chair while pulling a lighter from his jacket pocket.
Gary, who didn't smoke, just leaned up against the dresser. Sharon lay down on
the bed and propped herself up with a pillow.
"So," she asked, flicking some ash onto the dirty shag carpet, "What are
you guys doing here? I thought you had math with Edgar until 3:00."
Neil grimaced. "We did," he answered, "Until he kicked us out."
"What?"
Gary took over the explanation and outlined the sequence of events that
had led to their expulsion from the math class. Typically, Sharon immediately
blamed Stacy.
"That cunt!" she swore angrily, "Cheating on the test and getting you guys
kicked out. She's really asking for it."
"Yes, she is," Gary agreed quietly, "And I think I know how we can give it
to her."
"What do you mean?"
"We know she's cheating on her exams, right?"
Neil and Sharon nodded in agreement.
"I think that it's pretty likely she'll cheat again. I don't think that
she's had to do it before, so she's probably way behind in her work. The fact
that she's cheating - and that we know she's cheating - gives us a hold on her;
a way of blackmailing her, but we need more."
Neil thought this over for a few moments. "Like what?" he asked.
"First, we need concrete evidence of the cheating. No one is going to take
our word over Stacy's. That's where you come in, Sharon. Your dad lets you use
his video camera and radio - microphone. We'll use that to trap her."
"And then what?" Neil was starting to become excited at the prospect of
blackmailing Stacy.
Gary fell silent for a moment, looking at his two friends.
"How much," he asked finally, his voice strained and odd, "How much do you
hate her? I mean really. How much do you want to see her suffer?"
"Hey man," Neil answered uneasily, "I just want to get back at her for
putting me down last year. I don't want to, like, beat her up or anything."
"Well, I would," Sharon spat out. "I hate the bitch. Always flaunting
herself, and prancing about like she owns the whole fucking school. She
deserves whatever she gets. I'll do whatever you want to help get her."
Gary looked over a Neil, his eyebrows raised as if to ask 'are you in?'.
"Aw, fuck it," Neil said finally, "I hate the bitch as much as anybody.
I'm in all the way."
"Good," Gary nodded, "Cause when we're through with her, she'll be the
biggest slut in the history of Greenwood High."
*****
The English exam was being held the following Monday, only five days away,
so they had to move quickly. The first step was to get ahold of the exam
questions beforehand, a proposition which might have proved difficult but for
the advances in electronics technology which had culminated in the computer.
Exam papers were commonly written out on school computers and stored in the
school network, which allowed for "maximum flexibility within the school
bureaucracy regarding application of secretarial assets". Incidentally, it also
allowed someone with the appropriate equipment and skills to break into the
system and download the required information without leaving any traces of his
actions.
Gary, something of a hacker, had broken into the system a number of times
in the past with his home computer and modem and was quite familiar with both
the security measures and the layout of information within the network. In the
end, it took him all of about twenty minutes to download the appropriate exam
paper. Neil and Sharon were impressed.
"Jesus," she muttered, "I wish you'd told me about this before I failed my
fucking history test last year."
Gary just shook his head. "I don't think this is the kind of thing you
want to do too often. If I go in often enough, they'll figure out what's going
on. I was saving it for a special occasion." He looked up at his two friends
and grinned maliciously. "And I think this is it."
*****
Frustrated, Stacy slammed the book shut. The exam was coming up in just a
few days, and there was no way she was going to be ready. She had done her best
to catch up on the first two months' work in a couple of days, but it was
almost impossible for her even to get through the material in time for the
test, much less actually understand it. And there was impossible for her to
cheat on this exam the way she had in math. In that class, she had gotten away
with writing out a number of formulas and applications on crib notes, but that
just wouldn't work for an English test. There was too much material to read and
assimilate, and without knowing exactly what material the test was going to
focus on, she was forced to try to learn it all in just a few days: a daunting
task at best, and almost certainly doomed to failure. She was going to blow the
test for sure!
Stacy slumped back in her chair and stared at her pouting reflection in
the desk mirror. It wasn't fair. How could she be expected to keep up with all
of this classwork while at the same time attend all the student council
meetings as well as the swim club practices each morning. It was impossible.
They just expected too much of her! She felt her large, green eyes brimming
with tears; she wanted to be Homecoming Queen so badly, and now...
She was interrupted from her self-pity by the ring of the phone at her
bedside. Sniffling, she got up and crossed the room to answer it.
"Hello?" It was Ashley, her friend from school. Careful to disguise her
inner turmoil (Ashley, like all of the other girls in their particular clique,
could smell weakness the way a shark smells blood; any hint of a problem and it
would be all over the group by the end of the next school day, threatening
Stacy's position), Stacy fell easily into the standard school banter of gossip,
innuendo and casual put-downs of other students. Stacy was good at this, and
Ashley sensed nothing out of place.
After a while, Neil's name came up, and Stacy happily recounted the events
of yesterday's math test. Ashley had almost certainly heard about it by now,
but the combination of a first-hand account together with Stacy's particular
style of sarcastic humour made the story well worth hearing for a second time.
The two girls were soon laughing together at what had happened.
"Well," Ashley laughed at the end of the story, "It does sound as if they
made absolute assholes of themselves, alright. And that threat of summer school
must have scared the shit out of them from what I heard."
"What do you mean?"
"I heard that Neil has got ahold of some of some of the exam papers coming
up. I guess he wants to bring up his overall marks so Edgar can't fail him or
something like that."
Stacy felt her heart jump a beat as her breath caught in her chest. Neil
had copies of future exams? "Where did you hear that?" she asked, trying to
keep her voice casual. Evidently she had succeeded, as Ashley failed to detect
the change of mood.
"Laura told me," she answered, "I think she heard it from Sharon, although
why she was talking to that cow, I don't know. You remember Sharon? She was the
one..." Ashley started to drone on about Sharon, who was definitely not a part
of their exclusive clique, but Stacy wasn't listening. Neil had copies of some
upcoming tests.
AND HE WAS IN HER ENGLISH CLASS!
After a while, Ashley wound down, and Stacy let the conversation die a
natural death. While she was careful not to mention Neil and the exam papers
again, it was never far from her mind. Finally, the two girls said goodbye and
Stacy hung up the phone.
Thoughtful, she walked back to her desk and looked the pile of unread
English books. Cheating was a serious matter at Greenwood (it had taken her a
long time to screw up her courage enough to do it during the math test), but
stealing exam papers was something else altogether. She remembered a guy who
had been caught with a stolen paper about four years ago, when she was in her
first year at the high school. He had not only been expelled, but the school
had prosecuted him for breaking and entering and theft (they succeeded on the
first count, but failed on the second). It had been all over the papers in
Bakersville. She shuddered at the thought of that happening to her, but what
was the alternative?
Besides, she thought, making up her mind, she wasn't going to get caught;
she was too smart for that.
*****
It was all too easy!
Stacy had approached him the next day - just as Gary had predicted - and,
in the guise of sympathizing with him over his humiliation in Edgar's math
class a couple of days ago, she had sounded him out about the papers for the
upcoming exams. As Gary had instructed him, Neil pretended to be suffering from
a bad cold and sore throat, and lowered his voice to a rasp. Stacy didn't seem
notice; either she didn't care, or couldn't remember what he normally sounded
like. Probably both.
Enjoying the experience of Stacy being friendly to him (although aware
that Stacy had skilfully manipulated the circumstances of their "accidental"
meeting in such a way as to locate it in the Study Hall, which was usually
deserted), Neil drew the encounter out, repeatedly side-stepping her indirect
attempts to get him to admit to having the papers.
Finally, she was forced to ask him directly: did he have copies of the
upcoming exam papers? Seemingly reluctant, Neil eventually admitted that "yes"
he happened to have some copies of future exam papers, and "yes", in
particular, he did have copy of next week's English exam.
"Why do you want to know?"
Stacy looked down and flushed. When she looked like that, Neil was almost
willing to feel sorry for her. Almost. All he had to do to push back any
feelings of affection was remember the bitchy way in she had rejected him last
year and then gotten him beaten up. He knew what she was like.
"I want a copy of that exam," she admitted finally, "I need it for this
weekend."
Neil pretended to be shocked. "Stacy, you mean you want a copy of a stolen
exam paper so you can cheat on next Monday's English test?"
Stacy swallowed back an angry retort. Couldn't he be a little more subtle?
Idiot! Still, there wasn't much she could do about it. "Yes," she admitted, "I
need it to pass the exam."
Neil just stared at her, not saying anything.
"I'll pay money," she added, "How about $100?"
Still nothing. She was almost frantic.
"Please?"
"Alright," Neil relented, as if making up his mind, "I'll sell you the
stolen exam paper for $100." Stacy almost collapsed with relief. Everything was
going to work out!
"Will that be all, Stacy, or do you want any more exams? I can probably
get whatever you want."
Stacy looked up, excited. This would solve all of her problems with the
schoolwork. "That sounds great," she told him enthusiastically, "I'll buy
whatever you can get for the classes I'm in. $100 a paper."
"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.
END PART ONE
=================================================================
SSY-02.TXT
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
PART TWO
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
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.
=================================================================
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 18 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.
=================================================================
SSY-03.TXT
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART THREE)
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
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
LATE). You may consider yourself warned.
- This is PART THREE of a ten part series; it would be much
better to read parts one and two before reading this part.
=================================================================
"We're going to play a game," Gary said, his voice light and mocking. He
had shoved his hands into his pockets, and was staring off into space. "You can
win it; it will have rules and an object. If you do win, we will give you all
copies of the video tape and pictures. If you lose..."
Stacy sat in stunned silence. The whole world - her world - had changed
dramatically in the last half hour. Nothing was the same. That morning, she had
woken up an intelligent, free young woman. No clouds on the horizon; nothing to
foreshadow the impending danger. It had been almost a week since she had been
forced to have sex with Neil, and she was finally beginning to feel clean
again. She had passed all of the recent tests at school, and was still a part
of the most influential, exclusive group of students at Greenwood. Moreover,
Neil seemed to have kept his mouth shut, both about her cheating on the English
test and the disgusting exercise she had been forced into at his apartment, and
he was now safely relegated back to the periphery of her privileged existence.
Stacy had even shelved her plans for getting him thrashed by one of her friends
on the football team. The whole incident was receding into the past, and she
was unaffected. Still one of the best and the brightest; one of the winners.
Then came the note in her locker. This note was handwritten, not in block
letters like the previous one, as if the need for disguise no longer existed.
It simply ordered her to show up at Neil's apartment at 1:00 PM the next day:
Saturday, exactly a week after her last visit. Her stomach had gone cold and
her hand trembled as she read the note. Was he going for a repeat performance?
If he was, that little bastard...
Just then, Ashley and some friends happened by her locker, and she quickly
stuffed the note into her jacket pocket. It was not the sort of thing she
wanted her friends to know about; particularly Ashley... She greeted them with
a smile.
"The game will last for the rest of the school year." Gary continued
speaking. "If you win before the last day of classes, July 2, we will return
all of the material to you, and never bother you again."
Stacy heard Gary's voice speaking the words, but it was as if he was
speaking at her from a long distance away. She understood him, but didn't feel
any connection with what he was saying. Was he even speaking to her? She knew
that what he was saying was important, but she was unable to focus on his
voice. Her mind continued to drift...
She had arrived that Saturday afternoon prepared for the worst, but what
had happened turned out to be much more terrible than what she had expected;
than she could have expected.
Neil wasn't alone when she had arrived. Gary, his creepy friend, was there
with him, as was Sharon, Gary's cow of a girlfriend. Gary had just looked at
her as she entered Neil's bedroom, his eyes huge and expressionless through the
thick, magnifying lens of his glasses. He was sitting on the couch beside
Sharon, who had giggled obnoxiously when Stacy had entered the room, and
flicked ashes from her cigarette onto the floor. The ashes sunk into the thick
shag carpet and were lost from sight. The room seemed a lot darker than Stacy
remembered it.
"What's going on? Why are they here?" Stacy turned as if to leave, but
Neil, behind her, had already closed the door. "What are you doing?" Stacy was
beginning to panic. Neil didn't answer; he just smirked at her as he stood in
front of the door.
"We have something to show you," came a voice from behind her. It was
Gary. "I think you'll find it interesting." He stood up and pointed to the
space on the couch beside his chubby girlfriend. "Have a seat," he invited.
"I don't think so," Stacy answered angrily, pulling herself together a
bit. She didn't have to take this. "I'll stand, if you don't mind." Sarcasm.
Gary just smiled at her and repeated his gesture. "I think it would be
better if you sat for this," he told her, his voice mild. "Besides, the couch
has the best view of the TV." Stacy noticed for the first time a TV and video
machine set up opposite the couch; they hadn't been there last week. "We
wouldn't want you to miss anything," Gary continued. Stacy giggled again.
Overcome by a vague feeling of dread, Stacy was forced to fight down an
impulse to flee; not that it would have done any good with Neil standing in
front of the door. Sharon sat up and crushed out her half finished cigarette in
the ashtray. "C'mon, babe," she called, patting the seat beside her. "I don't
bite."
Stacy had looked around at the three of them - Neil smirking by the door,
Sharon leaning back on the couch with her arms stretched out, and Gary looking
at her with his queer, empty eyes - and then began walking slowly towards the
couch. She realized that she had no choice in the matter, and there was no use
in protesting further. A small part of her mind began to understand 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 couch. 'Don't panic' she told herself.
Sharon immediately slipped her pudgy arm around Stacy's shoulder and
squeezed. "That's more like it," she laughed. "Just relax and enjoy the show.
You're among friends." Neil chuckled as he moved away from the door. Stacy
tensed - she hated this bitch - but did not pull away. Neil flipped off the
lights as Gary moved forward to turn on the TV and start the video.
"If you lose," Gary continued, "well... I can't really say; 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 meet the conditions for winning."
Somehow, the small part of Stacy's mind which was still listening to his
voice was not much comforted by this expression of confidence. Her mind
continued to drift...
The tape! That awful tape... They had made her watch the entire thing
through from beginning to end, even though she had tried to jump up out of the
couch before the first thirty seconds were up. Sharon had kept her seated, her
arm surprisingly strong. Stacy had even tried to keep her eyes shut, but was
unable to tear her gaze away from the scene which played itself out obscenely
on the TV screen in front of her.
The sound started first, while the screen remained blank. "Please," came
the voice over the TV speaker - HER VOICE! "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. I'm
sorry I was mean to you before. Please let me fuck you?"
It was at this point that Stacy tried to jump up off the couch, but Sharon
had been expecting it, and her encircling arm held the panicking girl down.
Gary moved over as if to help his girlfriend, but stopped as he saw that no
help was needed: Stacy went limp and relaxed back into the couch, her eyes wide
as she stared at the TV screen.
She was watching herself slowly strip off her own clothes. First the
tee-shirt... then the bra (Stacy began to cry on the couch as her TV image
fondled and rubbed its breasts; her hand 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 the pants. Finally, she was naked on the screen.
"Please." The girl on the screen (Stacy could no longer believe it was
herself saying and doing those things; she started thinking of her image on the
screen as someone else) seemed to be almost panting in lust. "Please fuck me.
In need it so bad. Please fuck me." The naked girl ran her hands over her erect
nipples. "Please... I want it now..."
"Come here, bitch!" The figure on the bed, only visible in the corner of
the picture, spoke (Stacy knew it was Neil, but her mind refused to put a name
to him - surely what was happening on the screen had nothing to do with her).
The naked girl responded quickly; breasts bobbing, she ran over and kneeled at
the side of the bed. After remaining in this position for a few moments, the
girl reached for the man's crotch and fumbled with the zipper. "Oh yes," she
breathed. "Please let me have your cock."
The viewpoint shifted suddenly, to a shot taken above and 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 on top of him,
straddling his naked thighs.
The camera switched back to original point of view, as the girl began to
play with herself while kneeling on the bed. It zoomed in and panned slowly
down her body, from her slack, 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 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 played with her bobbing breasts.
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.
"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.
"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
=================================================================
SSY-04.TXT
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART FOUR)
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This is not a nice story. It features blackmail,
non-consensual intercourse, humiliation, D&S and all that
good sort of stuff (although not all of the above appears in
every instalment). This story is not politically correct! If
you are offended by this sort of thing, stop reading now,
before it is TOO LATE! OK?
- This is Part four of a ten part series. This means that
you should read the other three parts first.
=================================================================
NUMBER TWO:
The blue Plymouth Valiant drove steadily through the mostly deserted night
streets of Bakersville, its headlights cutting a swath through the surrounding
darkness. Inside, Barry Packard could barely believe his luck. He snuck a
glance to his right, trying not to be too obvious about it. Sitting beside him,
in the passenger seat, was - unbelievably - Stacy Richards, easily the most
beautiful girl in school (in Barry's opinion). She sat quietly, staring
straight ahead through the front window as the car rolled along, her perfect
features lit intermittently by the passing street lights. She had seemed a
little quiet and nervous the entire evening, leading Barry to worry that she
was bored or unhappy with him - Barry was neither confident nor particularly
successful with girls - but when he had apologised and offered to take her
home, she had insisted that she was having a good time, and didn't want to go
home.
In fact, it had been her idea that they head down to the beach. THE BEACH!
That was the prime "make-out" spot for the teenagers of Bakersville. On any
given night, there would usually be at least a handful of cars parked alongside
the long dirt road which traced the coastline to the south of the town. Barry
had never dreamed that one day he would be taking Stacy Richards there
(actually, he had "dreamed" about it several times; he had just never imagined
that it would really happen).
Barry steered the car off the paved section of the street and onto the
bumpier dirt road which ran alongside the beach. In reality, Barry had never
expected that he would ever go on a date with Stacy. Her kind was usually
reserved for the star of the football team, or some other equivalent sports
hero, and even then only for the duration of his fame. Barry, on the other
hand, was a second-string lineman, only put into the game when the result was
no longer in doubt. In fact, he really didn't even like football. He was
certainly not particularly ugly or unpopular, but girls like Stacy were usually
so far above his particular level in the school social strata that he could
only dream of going out with her. It had been a matter of pride with Barry that
he had gathered the nerve to ask her out last summer, and although she had
turned him down at the time, she had been less cruel about it than she could
have been. Still, he had been more than a little surprised when Stacy had
called him up last week and suggested a Saturday-night date.
He had even half-expected that it would all turn out to be some kind of a
joke, but when he had arrived at her house to pick her up, she had indeed been
waiting for him, a vision of beauty in her short skirt and light blouse. She
hadn't seemed overly friendly or talkative, but Barry didn't know enough about
her to know whether or not this was her usual behaviour. Still, the movie and
dinner had gone off OK, and, of course, it had been her suggestion that they
drive down to the beach afterwards. Even as he drove along the beach road,
Barry still couldn't believe it. His cock bulged pleasurably in his pants as he
steered the car around a bend in the road.
"How about here?" he asked, trying, but not quite succeeding, to sound
casual. His voice was hoarse and dry. He had picked a fairly popular spot about
half a mile along the road; there was another car parked a couple of hundred
yards away.
Stacy shook her head, her blonde hair shimmering in the starlight.
"Further along," she said quietly.
Barry shrugged and drove the car further along the road, passing through
and then leaving behind all of the more popular and well-used spots. The road
was almost deserted, which was unusual for a Saturday night, but the weather
had been turning a little cold lately. In fact, Barry had seen Stacy shivering
a little earlier while they had been walking out of the restaurant. He had
noted that she was dressed quite lightly for November. Even this far south, the
weather began to cool down by this time of the year.
Twenty minutes later, Barry had parked the car in a suitably secluded
spot; there had been no one else on the road for the last three miles. The
night fell briefly silent as the car engine was shut off, but the sound of the
breakers crashing against the shoreline quickly became apparent as the two
teenagers sat for a few moments in awkward silence. Barry was too nervous to
start anything, and Stacy just sat there, staring out over the dark, black
water.
Barry could take it no longer. "Well..." He started to say something, but
was interrupted by the feel of Stacy's hand against his. His throat constricted
and his heart skipped a beat as she slid across the seat and wrapped her arm
over his shoulder. She put her hand on his face and turned it towards her. She
was so beautiful in the starlight!
"K-kiss me," she whispered, her voice shaking. She sounded curiously
reluctant, almost frightened. Barry, however, didn't notice and probably
wouldn't have cared if he had noticed. This was a dream come true. He pulled
her slim body towards himself on the car seat and crushed his mouth to hers.
After a brief hesitation, her lips parted, allowing him to slip his tongue into
her waiting mouth. She wasn't kissing him back, though; she merely accepted his
advances passively as she sat beside him on the car seat. Barry, sensing her
reticence, pulled away, breaking the kiss.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, short of breath. Stacy bit her lower lip
before answering. In the light, it looked to Barry as if she was about to cry,
but she just shook her head. Satisfied, Barry leaned forward again. This time,
she participated, crushing her lips against his and moving her tongue around in
response to his advances. Soon, the two teenagers were necking vigorously in
the front seat of the car as the windows began to steam up.
A few moments later, Barry felt Stacy touch his hand and then guide it
slowly to her breasts. He responded by squeezing and fondling them through the
thin fabric of her blouse. Barry could barely believe what was happening!
Daringly, he pulled open the buttons on her blouse; a couple of buttons broke
free and fell to the seat, but Barry didn't notice. Stacy didn't react. He
slipped his hand in and under her bra, cupping her breast. He half-expected her
to put a halt to it, but she just continued kissing him. Gaining confidence, he
reached around with his other hand and unclipped the back of the bra. It fell
away under her unbuttoned blouse, leaving her breasts almost fully exposed to
his hands and eyes. Stacy tensed, but did not object or pull away.
Instead, she reached down and ran her fingers along the now-conspicuous
bulge in his jeans. Barry gasped; could this really be happening? He pulled
back and looked over at Stacy. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly
open; she seemed to be breathing hard, but it was difficult for Barry to tell
in the weak starlight. All he could see were her breasts rising and falling
beneath the open blouse. Misgivings aside, he reached forward and began playing
with those breasts, alternately squeezing them and then tweaking the nipples.
Stacy gasped at this, but did not open her eyes.
Meanwhile, her hand was at work, sliding open his zipper and reaching
inside. She pushed her hand through the already damp front of Barry's underwear
and slowly worked his penis out into the open. Once again, Barry was struck
with a sense of disbelief at what was happening. He had never heard of Stacy
Richards acting like this, even when she was going steady with someone. Even
someone popular. Nevertheless, he continued fondling the offered breasts,
content to let Stacy make the next move.
That move wasn't long in coming. Stacy took a deep breath, opened her eyes
and then leaned back on the seat, away from Barry. She sat back against the car
door and pulled up her skirt, revealing her legs, pale and white in the
starlight.
"Stacy..." Barry was suddenly unsure of himself; he had only had sex one
time before, and this was largely uncharted territory for him. "Are you sure
you..."
"Yes," she interrupted him, slipping her panties down her leg. "I want
to... to do it... have sex w-with you." Once again, her frightened, tentative
manner belied the content of her words, but the content was enough for Barry,
who was already near to coming all over the car seat. He needed no more
encouragement! Awkwardly, he shifted himself around so he lay atop Stacy's
proffered body in the too-small car seat. He began to thrust his hips forward.
"J-just a second." Stacy shifted her position, trying to avoid having her
breasts painfully crushed against Barry's chest, but it was impossible. The car
seat was just too small, and Barry was lying right on top of her. Resigned, she
reached down and grabbed ahold of his penis with her long, cool fingers.
"Ok... Ok... now." Stacy mumbled instructions as she guided Barry's stiff
cock into her pussy. He was more than co-operative, and thrust forward
vigorously when she instructed, but her pussy was still quite dry and she had
to force every inch of inside her manually. Finally, it was inside. Stacy moved
her hand away and squirmed around, still trying to get at least comfortable.
Finally, she settled on a position, and put her arms around Barry's neck.
After that, it was all over in a few seconds. Barry began pushing his hips
roughly back and forth, grating his cock in and out of her unprepared pussy.
Stacy tried to find a rhythm which would minimize the pain and discomfort, but
was unable to do so. A thin line of drool slipped from between Barry's lips and
dribbled down onto her chest as he pumped frantically. Gasping and moaning, she
lay there as he suddenly stiffened and than came inside of her with a loud
grunt. Unnoticed by Barry, a tear welled up out of her eye and slid down the
side of her face.
Finally, he relaxed, spent. As she lay there, crushed beneath his weight,
she could feel his penis shrivelling up inside her burning pussy as the warm
sperm began leaking out and down the inside of her thigh...
*****
Gary hung up the phone just as Sharon entered his bedroom. He was sitting
in front of his computer which in turn sat on top of a desk in the far corner
of his room. He nodded a indifferent greeting to her, and immediately began
entering information into some sort of database program as Sharon walked
forward. She came to a halt just behind him, putting her hands onto his
shoulders.
"What'cha up to?" He seemed to be entering some names and dates into
little boxes on the screen (Sharon knew almost nothing about computers).
"That was Stacy on the phone," he answered, still working. "She's fucked
two guys since last week. I'm just entering it into the system."
System? Sharon leaned in closer to the screen, suddenly interested.
"Numbers two and three! Tell me about it."
"Number two was Barry Packard." He fiddled with his mouse and then punched
the return button on the computer; a new screen was called up. This screen held
a name, a date and other information, including a small picture, obviously
taken (scanned, although Sharon didn't know this) from the school yearbook.
"Barry Packard." Gary pointed to that name at the top of the screen, and slowly
read off the information as it appeared. "Fucked on Saturday, Nov.6; it
occurred in the front seat of his car, which was parked down by the beach.
Apparently, he came in about 20 seconds. Can't blame him, I suppose."
Sharon laughed. "Number three?"
Gary pushed another button, and another list of information appeared.
"Grant Hardin." Sharon stifled a giggle at his name as Grant's digitized
picture stared sombrely out of the top left-hand corner of the computer screen.
He had a big nose. "Fucked on Tuesday, Nov.9 in his bedroom. He also came very
quickly. He called out the name 'Susan' when he came."
Sharon laughed again. "Seems there's not too many boys around who can
restrain themselves with Stacy Richards. She must be a good fuck."
Gary just shrugged. "Maybe. We'll see."
"Perhaps we'll have to find her some real men," Sharon suggested. Gary
looked intrigued at this suggestion, but didn't say anything. Sharon moved away
sat down on the side of his bed, pulling out a cigarette. He noticed that she
had a small paper bag with her.
"What's that?" he asked, as she lit up and took a long, satisfied drag.
"Oh, just a little something for Stacy," she smirked. "A little present to
celebrate her success at the game." She reached into the bag and pulled out...
*****
NUMBER FOUR:
"You bastard!" Stacy cried. "You fucking bastard!" She lay on her back on
the leather couch in her parent's living room, her shirt and fingers sticky
with sperm. She brushed her hands against the front of her shirt in a futile
effort to wipe herself clean, but that only seemed to smear the warm, sticky
fluid more evenly down her front. She began to cry, involuntarily bringing a
hand up to her face to cover her eyes. When she took the hand away, her eyelid
and cheek glistened with sperm.
Toby Hooper, a tall, gangly nineteen year-old, had jumped back off of her
after prematurely ejaculating. His already freckled face turned bright red with
embarrassment as he fumbled to push his sticky cock back into his pants.
"Jesus... I'm sorry," he apologized, zipping up his jeans. "I d-didn't mean
to..."
"Just fuck off and get out of here!" Stacy screamed at him. "Get out!"
Tears ran down her face, mixing with the quickly congealing sperm on her
cheeks.
Toby, his pants now securely fastened, continued to stammer out incoherent
apologies as he picked up his paper-sack and scurried out of the house.
Outside, he jumped onto his bike and pedalled furiously away.
Behind him, Stacy continued to cry on the couch, her blonde hair in
disarray and her shirt and face coated with his quickly drying sperm.
To Stacy, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity when Toby had come
collecting money that Saturday morning for his paper route. She considered him
to be, like, a total loser at school (as well as being a grade behind her) and
did not find him the least bit attractive, with his messy red hair and
freckles, but he was a student at Greenwood. From her present, unwelcome
perspective, that was enough. Her parents were away on one of their weekend
"getaways", so Stacy had been all alone in the house when he came by.
She had thought that he would prove as easy to seduce as Barry and Grant
had the week before - she was, after all, who she was - but it had turned out
not to be so easy. Toby was going steady with a girl at school named Tami
("Toby & Tami..." she and Ashley had enjoyed making fun of them), and the dork
seemed determined to be faithful to her. Either that, or he was just too stupid
and shy to take a hint. Stacy had swallowed her pride and had come onto him
like a bitch in heat - touching his hand; "accidentally" brushing against him
with her breast; making suggestive comments about being lonely by herself in
such a big house - but he would not react. Finally, she had been forced to come
right out with it and more or less ask him directly to have sex with her. He
had risen to his feet and turned to go, stammering something about being behind
on his paper route, but Stacy wrapped her strong arms around him and crushed
her lips to his face in a passionate kiss. When she eventually disentangled her
tongue from his, he was breathing hard, and no longer so anxious to leave.
She got him safely onto the couch in the living room and, after some more
necking, she had succeeded in extracting his by-then rigid cock from his pants.
By now, she had developed a technique for getting at a boy's cock quickly,
although she still hated the feel of it. He was now co-operating fully, and had
roughly pulled her pants down to her ankles. She fell back on the couch and
prepared to help guide his cock into to her still unresponsive pussy, but as he
had bent over her, his cock had twitched and the spurted jism all down the
front of her shirt. There was so much of it! He had been saving up for sixteen
years. She had thrown her hands up to protect herself, but had only succeeded
in getting the warm, sticky fluid all over her fingers.
Lying there, splattered with warm sperm, Stacy had begun the shrieking
which would drive Toby out of the house.
By the time her tears had subsided, the sperm had soaked through her
blouse and had dried, sticky and brittle, against her skin. Her breathing
steadied as she tried to come to terms with what she was becoming... what she
was being forced to become. Shaking, she got to her feet and stumbled to the
phone to make the report she had made twice before.
Then a shower.
*****
Sharon's surprise present had turned out to be a small, stainless steel
charm bracelet. It was not particularly expensive or attractive, but was
solidly built, the links almost large enough to qualify as a chain. Almost.
But, it was still a charm bracelet, and as such each link was designed in such
a way as to allow for the attachment of numerous small pieces of jewellery,
usually figurines or symbols: small hearts and the like. Sharon had not
forgotten about that, and happily dumped the contents of a somewhat larger
plastic bag onto the bed. The resulting pile revealed a large number - an even
hundred, Sharon later explained - of small, steel "F"'s. Ordinarily, such
ornaments would be worn on charm bracelets by girls with names beginning with
that letter, but in Stacy's case the letter would stand for something else.
Gary quickly figures out what that "something else" would be. By the end of the
year, Sharon explained to a laughing Gary, Stacy's charm bracelet should be
displaying fifty-five such ornaments.
"Belling the cat," Gary chuckled. "I like it."
"Not the cat," Sharon disagreed, "the pussy. Belling the pussy."
Gary had laughed again and then drew her towards him for an appreciative
kiss.
*****
The actual "belling" had gone very smoothly, Sharon thought. The next day
at school, Neil and Gary had contrived to lead the "pussy" into the
metal-working shop after classes. Before the frightened Stacy could protest,
they had clipped the charm bracelet onto her left wrist, and then forced her
arm onto a nearby workbench. Sharon had watched from the doorway - serving as a
lookout - as Stacy started to struggle and cry out. Her struggles subsided,
however, when Neil brought the soldering iron and solder down to her wrist; the
slightest movement would have caused the molten solder to drip onto her exposed
arm. Stacy watched in silent horror as the two boys soldered shut the clip to
the charm bracelet, fastening it permanently to her wrist. She could still, of
course, easily remove it with the proper tools, but such a removal would
certainly leave evidence; evidence which, Gary quietly explained to Stacy,
would lead to the imposition of further punishment and humiliation.. The charm
bracelet would stay on her wrist until the school year was over.
When Stacy had nodded her understanding, Neil took Sharon's place at the
door, and the pudgy girl moved forward and fastened the small, steel "F"s to
Stacy's newly acquired bracelet. Silently, she affixed four of them, spreading
them evenly along 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, eighteen 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
junior classes. Every Friday afternoon, the kids 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 18-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
=================================================================
SSY-05.TXT
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART FIVE)
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
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.
=================================================================
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
=================================================================
SSY-06.TXT
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART SIX)
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story contains blackmail, non-consensual sex,
humiliation, D&S and all that sort of good stuff (albeit not
in every instalment). If you are offended by this sort of
thing, it would be better to stop reading now. You have been
warned.
- This is the sixth part of a ten-part series. For full
effect, read the other parts first.
Copyright 1993. Feel free to distribute this story as
you wish, but please leave it unchanged (particularly
the attribution; I want all the credit/blame). I would
also ask that you exercise some discretion in where you
send it; not all BBSs or readers should be exposed to
this sort of material (who knows what might happen?).
=================================================================
"Cool."
Neil leaned forward and watched intently as Stacy, completely naked, was
simultaneously fucked by two men: one from behind as she knelt "doggie style"
on all fours with her legs slightly spread, and one from the front. At first,
her face had been hidden from the camera by her blonde hair, which fell in
waves over her right shoulder, but Sharon had slowly circled the action and,
after a brief shot of the back of some guy's sweaty ass moving back and forth,
began to film from the other side, where Stacy's features could be seen
clearly. Her left hand clutched the base of the guy's cock as she bobbed her
cum-splattered face up and down. The charm bracelet, festooned with shiny,
silver "F"s, glittered merrily in the light. There was a brief break in this
movement as she pulled her mouth free and teased the head of the cock with her
tongue, but then her lips re-encircled the penis, and her head resumed the
up-down movement. Her loud moans and grunts could be easily heard above the
rhythmic slurping sounds; she was clearly enjoying herself.
The camera moved on; it continued panning, sliding steadily down Stacy's
glistening, sweaty body and focusing on her ass as it wiggled about on the
impaling cock like a fish caught on a hook. Just as the settled on this shot,
the guy fucking her from behind stiffened and came. A few seconds later, he
pulled out, leaving a thin trail of white sperm dribbling down Stacy's leg. The
camera pulled back and then zoomed in on her ass and pussy - both glistening
and wet with cum - and held the shot as another fellow moved into position and
inserted his cock, this time into her ass rather than the pussy. The soundtrack
clearly recorded a squeal of pleasure from the impaled teenager, as Stacy
accepted the cock and began grinding her ass back and forth on it.
"Jeez, this is great stuff."
Neil was more than a little impressed. He hadn't even known that anything
of this nature was going on. Indeed, he had felt a momentary twinge of anger
when Gary had told him what Sharon had arranged for Stacy - he had felt a bit
left out lately, as Gary and Sharon more and more seemed to be taking charge
with Stacy - but he couldn't remain angry. He was not so stupid that he failed
to realize that this whole arrangement was only possible because Gary had seen
the possibilities that day in English class. If it had been left to Neil, he
would probably have blurted out his accusations in front of the class, and that
would have been the end of it. Instead, they now had a hold on Stacy that let
them force her to do anything! How could he complain about Gary being in
charge?
On screen, Stacy was taking advantage of the fact that her mouth was
temporarily empty of cock, and was busily licking strands of sperm from her
fingers. Neil turned to Gary and Sharon who were sitting together on the couch
behind him.
"She's really into it," he commented enthusiastically. "Did you use the
drugs?"
"Yeah," Sharon answered. "A double dose this time. As you can see, it
worked like a charm."
The sound of Stacy's screams from the TV indicated an impending orgasm.
"She was really hot."
The teenagers fell silent and watched as Stacy experienced a violent
orgasm, her fourth since the beginning of the tape.
"We made four hundred bucks," Sharon continued after Stacy's screams had
died away. "And the football team wants her back again next weekend."
"Are you gonna make her go?" Neil turned away from the couch as he asked
the question, his eyes focusing on the screen where Stacy moaned and fondled
her small breasts.
Behind him, Sharon looked at Gary, leaving the decision to him.
"I don't think so," he answered. "At least not right away. We don't want
to burn her out. Let's leave it for something special. We are selling them this
tape though; they're paying another hundred bucks for it."
"That's five hundred bucks." Neil tore his attention away from the screen.
"A lot of money." He looked up at Gary.
"Don't worry," his friend answered, smiling his strange smile. "You'll get
a share. Sharon gave forty dollars to Stacy, so that leaves $460 to split three
ways."
Neil raised his eyebrows. "Forty dollars to Stacy?"
"Well," Sharon laughed, "she deserved something. She did all the work."
The three friends laughed and went back to watching the video. It was
coming to the end now, and Stacy was being simultaneously fucked by three guys,
one in the ass, one in her cunt and one in her mouth. She moaned and wriggled
as her body was filled with cock from three different angles. Finally, the
three cocks came, each spurting sperm into its particular orifice as Stacy
orgasmed twice more. The video faded to black as Stacy, wet and crusty with
cum, curled up on the damp, sticky mattress, still moaning and sucking the
sperm from her fingers.
"That was great!" Neil leaned forward and shut of the television. "Just
like being there."
"Well, I hope the guys on the football team are happy with it. They're
paying for it." Sharon stopped the video and pushed the rewind button on the
remote. The tape began to whirl backwards in the video machine.
Neil got to his feet and began to pace.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "we could make a lot more money out of
this if we wanted. I bet there are people who would pay big bucks for this
tape; I mean besides the guys from the college."
"Not this tape," Gary answered. "It's just for the guys at BCN. The last
thing we need is the bloody college football team coming after us. But I have
given that some thought."
Sharon looked over at him, surprised. This was the first that she had
heard of it.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," he told her, "why not make a little money selling some
pictures?"
"Like the video?" Neil asked.
"No. I don't think that we can put together a professional enough product
for that. This tape was OK as a souvenir for the guys at the college, but we
have no way of editing it or anything else. I mean still pictures." He looked
over at Sharon. "You're uncle let you use his studio last year, right?"
Sharon nodded her agreement, beginning to understand what he was getting
at. Her uncle did portrait photography, and had a studio near the centre of
town. Last year, he had allowed her to use the studio and darkroom for her
photography class project. He had told her that she could use it any time she
wanted.
"So, with the studio and darkroom..."
"We can take professional shots!" Neil completed the sentence. "It's
fuckin' perfect."
"But what about selling them?" Sharon was sceptical. There was more to
this than just taking the pictures.
"I've been communicating with some photographers over a BBS," Gary told
her.
Neil looked confused. "BBS?"
Gary ignored him. "I expect I can get some contacts through them. Or at
least some addresses. I'm sure there are lots of magazines which would pay good
money for pictures of someone like Stacy."
"And what do we tell Stacy?" Sharon was still sceptical. "We told her we'd
keep this all a secret if she played along." Sharon was more curious than
concerned. Their promise to Stacy meant nothing to her.
"No." Gary smiled."We told her that we wouldn't release the tapes of her
cheating on the English exam and fucking with Neil. We said nothing about any
pictures we might take in the future. Besides, we won't be selling these
pictures to mainstream magazines. I doubt anyone in town will see them.
Including Stacy. Probably."
"Well... OK." Sharon was convinced. "I'll set it up with my uncle for
later this week."
"Fuckin A!" Neil was excited. "I can't wait."
*****
NUMBER FOURTEEN
Stacy's short skirt was once again bunched up around her waist. Her sleek
legs were spread wide, and wrapped around the bulky form of Bob Pearson as he
pistoned his cock brutally in and out of her dry pussy. They were in one of the
supply rooms at Greenwood; Stacy's ass was propped up on a narrow shelf and her
back was against the wall as Barry fucked her. In vain, she tried to
re-discover some of the excitement of the previous weekend up at BCN. Her
responses that night had been more than a little degrading, but at least she
had been able to deal with the sex without this pain; perhaps even get a little
enjoyment out of it.
No matter how hard she tried, however, she was unable to feel anything
other than the intense pain of the ordeal, as Barry's large cock sawed in and
out of her raw pussy.
'Please,' she thought wearily as he panted and grunted his lust, 'please
come!'
Just let it be over.
*****
As instructed, Stacy showed up at the photography studio at 8:00 PM two
nights later. The mid-December weather was unusually cold, and she was wearing
a heavy denim jacket over her jeans and sweater. She was, however, carrying a
duffel bag which contained some clothing of a less practical nature. Sharon had
ordered Stacy to bring along various items of apparel, such as underwear,
stockings, short skirts and, in particular, a couple of swimsuits from last
year's swim team. Stacy had been apprehensive, but she was now pretty much past
the stage of arguing or pleading. It never did any good. All that mattered was
that she reach number sixty-five before the end of the year. She had managed
number fifteen earlier that day (her pussy still ached); only fifty more to go!
At her wrist, the rapidly filling charm bracelet attested to her "success".
The studio itself was basically a large, high-ceilinged single room with a
cloth backdrop against the rear wall. The backdrop was a neutral white,
designed to take on the hue of whatever colored light was being directed at it.
There was a long metal bar on the ceiling which held a number of different
lights set there for this purpose. The floor in front of the backdrop was
covered by a dark mat. In front of this mat was another bank of lights, not
colored, and a camera. At the back of the room was a wooden door with a red
light hanging above it; a small sign identified it as the darkroom.
"Stacy."
Gary walked up to her as she stood by the door, put his arm over her
shoulder, and directed her into the room. Stacy shuddered slightly at his
touch, but allowed herself to be led. Sharon, standing behind the camera,
looked over and smirked. There was a belch from the back of the room; Stacy
looked over and saw Neil, sitting back against the wall with his feet propped
up on a small table and a beer in his hand. He grinned over at her and raised
the beer can in mock greeting. Behind her, the door to the studio clicked shut.
Sharon made a small adjustment to the camera, and then walked over to
where Gary had begun emptying out the contents of Stacy's duffel bag onto the
floor.
"Let's see what we've got," she muttered, sorting through the clothes.
Stacy watched, numb and frightened, as Sharon and Gary sorted through the
various items of apparel, rejecting some and laughing at others.
"Don't forget this stuff." Neil had left his seat and was approaching with
another bag, the contents of which he dumped onto the floor beside Stacy's
clothes. It contained a number of leather and rubber outfits, including, Stacy
noted queasily, the outfit she had worn up at BCN last weekend. She swallowed,
fighting to keep her features impassive; she had resolved not to let them see
her cry again.
Finally, they were done. Gary looked up at her.
"You know what's going on?" He gestured towards the camera.
Stacy nodded reluctantly.
"Yes," she answered. It hadn't been difficult to figure out. She had cried
in her bedroom when Gary had ordered her to show up at the photography studio
with the clothing, but she wasn't going to cry now. She wasn't going to give
them the satisfaction.
Gary grinned. "Then let's get started." He turned to his girlfriend.
"Sharon?"
"Yeah, OK," Sharon nodded, "but let's give her a drink first. It's going
to be hot under those lights."
Stacy looked up. Huh?
Sharon picked up an open can of coke from a nearby table and handed it to
her. "Drink up," she instructed. "We don't want you fainting on the set. We've
got lots of stuff to get through tonight."
Confused, Stacy did as ordered; she drank the coke and handing the empty
can back to the impatiently waiting Sharon.
The other girl nodded and took the bottle.
"OK," she announced, "I think we'll start with..."
Stacy spent the next few hours in front of the lights, running through
countless degrading poses in dozens of different outfits. Humiliatingly, they
started her out with some of her own clothes which she had brought: mini-skirt,
blouse and high heels.
"Look at the camera."
The colored lights placed her in front of a soft, yellow backdrop. As
instructed, Stacy looked at the camera.
"Lean forward... legs apart."
She bent down and spread her legs, causing the skirt to ride up. Her
blonde hair, combed out straight, hung down over her left shoulder, framing her
breasts for the camera. Behind the bank of lights, her three tormentors were
only shadowed silhouettes. Stacy was reminded of her dreams of stripping in
front of such lights.
"Open the blouse... now cup your breasts and look sexy. Keep looking up;
we want to see your face."
Her hands trembled as they undid the buttons. She had known it would come
to this, but it was still so hard; particularly in front of the camera. She
cupped her small breasts in her hands, involuntarily teasing her own nipples.
They hardened immediately. Would they notice?
"That's it. Nice nipples. Now, lick your lips..."
Stacy wetted her lips and did her best to look sexy and inviting. Her
nipples stayed hard.
"Bend over a bit more... let's see some more leg..."
Then they dressed her in one of her old swimsuits, now at least one size
too small:
"That's right... other way, now..."
Stacy stood, side on to the camera. They had soaked the suit before
dressing her in it, and it clung tenaciously to every curve. Worse, the cold
water caused her nipples to become hard again, and it was plainly visible
through the thin swimsuit.
"Shoulders back... good, that pushes out your tits... play with the
nipples, make them nice and hard... there you go..."
Stacy flushed red.
"OK... now run your hand through your hair... look like you need a good
fuck..."
Stacy did as ordered. She slid her fingers through her blonde hair,
shaking it out at the back as she did so. She was beginning to feel a queer
sort of arousal in the pit of her stomach. She fought to hide it, but it was
difficult to do while trying to look sexy.
Then came the outfit she had worn for the party at BCN. It quickly became
apparent to Stacy that they had not cleaned it since that night; it stank of
dried sweat and sperm.
This time, Sharon put on some music, and had Stacy dance a slow
striptease. Neil called encouragement as Stacy slowly divested herself of first
the cum-encrusted shirt, and then the tight leather skirt.
And, just like in her dream, she became more and more aroused...
A short break to re-load the camera while Stacy stood, panting slightly,
in front of the lights. She was naked from the previous stripping, save only
for the leather, high-heeled boots. Neil came over and played with her sweaty
tits until it was time for a new outfit.
Stacy fought hard not to respond...
Finally, it was over.
Stacy stood, drained and sweaty in the last outfit she had modelled, a
tight, pink rubber dress which left bare as much as it concealed. It was cut
low on her neckline, leaving her chest bare down to the upper curve of her tits
(at one point in the session, she had been ordered to pop her tits out of the
dress, but they were re-covered now). The dress also left her arms exposed up
to the shoulder, and only covered her upper thighs down to just below her
crotch. Her legs were clearly displayed, taut and sleek in the black pumps.
Sharon had done her hair up in a tight bun, giving her a severe, sexy look.
Neil slipped behind her, reached around and began playing with her breasts
through the thin rubber as Gary and Sharon clicked off the lights and began
storing the film. Involuntarily, Stacy moaned, but didn't pull away. Her
nipples hardened and a trickle of sweat dribbled down between her breasts as
they strained against the latex. Neil began kissing her neck.
Gary looked over and smiled. Stacy's eyes were closed and her mouth
slightly parted as she leaned back to accept Neil's attentions. Her body was
clearly beginning to respond. This seemed like a good time to bring up...
"Oh, Stacy." Stacy opened up her eyes and stiffened, remembering where she
was.
"I heard that Barry Packard asked you out last a little while ago and you
refused. Is that true?"
Stacy bit her lip apprehensively, but nodded. She recognized the tone of
voice Gary was using; something bad was going to happen. Behind her, Neil
reached down with one hand and began massaging her pussy through the latex
dress. The other hand continued to fondle her tits. Subconsciously, she began
to squirm back against him.
"Well," Gary continued, "from now on, there'll no more of that. If one of
your 'lovers' wants a re-match, you agree to it."
"What?!" Stacy tried to move forward, but Neil held her tight. "What are
you talking about?" Neil popped one of her breasts out from the dress and began
teasing the nipple. Stacy tried to ignore it.
"That wasn't a rule."
"It's a new rule," Sharon told her, grinning. "From now on, once a guy's
fucked you, you can't say 'no' to him until you've finished all sixty-five."
Stacy's features began to quiver. She had resolved not to cry, but this
was too much. A tear trickled down her cheek as she considered the implications
of what was being said.
"B-but... there'll be no end of it. I'll have to do it all the time." Her
mind, now cloudy with lust, struggled to find objections.
"When am I supposed to study or do other things? There are exams coming
up!"
Sharon laughed outright at that. Stacy had just been told that she had to
agree to fuck almost any guy that asked, and she was complaining about not
being able to study for exams!
"Don't worry about the exams," Gary told her. "We'll get you the test
papers ahead of time. Hell, we'll even do it for free this time." The three of
them laughed as Stacy began to cry in earnest.
"Besides," Gary continued, "it's not all bad news. We've decided to let
you earn some pocket money while you're doing it."
"What?"
"From now on, you charge five bucks for a repeat fuck."
Stacy looked at him in horror.
"The first one's free, but repeat service costs five bucks." He looked
over at Neil. "Except," he continued, "for Neil, of course. He gets it for
free."
If possible, Stacy's sobs became louder. No matter how bad things became,
they always managed to make them a little worse. Or a lot worse!
Gary and Sharon continued packing up as Neil slipped his hand under the
short dress and began to play with her pussy directly. Stacy shuddered and then
relaxed back into his chest, defeated. There was no use resisting it. She began
to pant as Neil pushed his middle finger into her now-moist cunt.
When Gary and Sharon finally left the room, she was sitting on top of
Neil's erection, riding it up and down, the pink dress bunched up around her
waist.
*******
Stacy was slumped forward on the desk. Her head was cradled sideways in
her arms, spilling blonde hair in waves out over the wooden desktop. Outside
the closed office door, the grade eight students she was supposed to be
supervising were yelling and running about, her usually well-structured
Recreation course having dissolved into chaos in her absence.
She didn't care. She was too tired to care. She hadn't even changed into
her usual gym outfit for the class, instead just stumbling around the gymnasium
in her green tweed dress, barely getting the class started before retreating to
the office. She just didn't care anymore.
Last night she had attended Ashley's Christmas party and, in the course of
the evening, had managed to have sex with four different guys: two blowjobs and
two fucks. Actually, it had been five guys, but one of them had turned out not
to be a student at Greenwood, and Stacy no longer counted the non-students.
That brought her total up to twenty: twenty different guys, and twenty shiny
"F"s on her imprisoned wrist. Only forty-five more to go. Only! Her pussy ached
at the thought.
As was happening so often these days, Stacy found herself fighting back
the urge to cry. How had she fallen into this trap? How had such a little thing
as cheating on a math test led her into the kind of life she was now leading?
Looking back, she could see how Gary - it must have been Gary; Neil wasn't
anywhere near smart or subtle enough to plan this sort of thing - had slowly
escalated the incidents of blackmail and humiliation until all her options had
disappeared. Even now, if it had just been the original session at Neil's, she
might be tempted to rebel - perhaps even turn to the police - but Gary had
since then taken it even further. Now, there were the pictures taken at the
photography studio and the awful video-tape of that night at BCN, where Sharon
had turned her into a whore! Sharon had shown the tape to her the day after the
photo session. How could anyone believe her story after seeing her enjoying
herself so much? She could barely believe it herself. What had happened to her?
Sex was usually so degrading and painful; why had it felt so good? Still,
whatever the reason, there was no way out; no one would believe her now.
So, she took the path of least resistance, and did what they wanted.
It had been three days since the session at the photography studio, and
she was unable to get it out of her mind. It was not just the fact that the
pictures had been taken. That was terrible enough, and she was thoroughly
frightened about what would be done with the resulting photographs. Gary had
told her that they were just for "personal use" (whatever that meant), but how
could she trust him? It was not just the fact that she could no longer refuse
to have sex with the guys she had already fucked; that was bad, but she thought
she could control matters so that very few of them invited her out again. As
long as it was kept quiet, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. It was not
even the sex with Neil; he had fucked her a number of times already, and it was
getting to be almost routine.
What frightened her about the session in the studio was the way she had
responded to the situation, and, later, to Neil. By the time he had pushed up
her dress and forced her to impale herself upon his rigid cock, she had been so
excited that she had experienced an orgasm within seconds of penetration. In
the fucking that followed, she had cum twice more, moaning and squirming like
some kind of slut-bitch on Neil's cock.
As was the case with the session at BCN, she was not sure how she felt
about this. On one hand, she was being forced to do horribly degrading things
and it was as if her own body was betraying her by allowing her to respond
sexually. What kind of girl - what kind of a slut - would enjoy the kind of
obscene activity which had occurred at BCN? On the other hand, it looked very
much like she had very little choice in the matter. She was trapped, and would
have to fuck countless guys in the next few months. Given that this was going
to happen anyway, wouldn't it be better to get at least some enjoyment out of
it? If nothing else, she could do without the constant pain of her pussy being
rubbed raw as a result of her being dry at the wrong time.
What she needed was some way to control the excitement. Some way to allow
her to do what she had to do with a minimum of pain, but which would allow her
to control herself so that her surrender would not be complete. Some way to...
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She glanced at
her watch and saw that it was after 3:15; class was over. She patted down her
green tweed dress and shook her blonde hair, unconsciously adjusting her
appearance. That must be...
It was. The door swung open to reveal a grinning Tim, followed closely by
Dennis. Stacy groaned, but gestured for them to enter the office for their
weekly session.
There must be some better way to deal with this!
*******
Ashley Peters stood, giggling, in a cluster of friends in a doorway near
the water fountain. The girls were pulling a nasty practical joke, and were
waiting for the victim to arrive. Even among this group, basically the most
popular (ie. beautiful) girls at Greenwood, Ashley stood out as something
special. She was taller than any of the other girls, but still well-rounded in
all of the important places, particularly her breasts. Indeed, the only other
girl at school that was in her league was Stacy Richards, but while Stacy was
small and perfectly proportioned, Ashley was big-boned and extremely well
endowed, particularly for an eighteen year-old. Where Stacy had a finely
chiselled face and high cheek bones, Ashley's face was wide and generous, with
thick, pouty lips and wide brown eyes. Where Stacy had shoulder length blonde
hair, Ashley was a brunette, with a thick, reddish-brown mane of hair that fell
halfway down her back. In short, Stacy's was a hard, athletic beauty, while
Ashley was softer and more luxurious: equally beautiful, but in an entirely
different manner.
The two girls were, of course, rivals, but only in a relaxed, friendly
way. There was simply no need for them to compete, for boys or otherwise. The
only real point of contention was the title of Homecoming Queen, and Ashley had
- more or less - conceded it to Stacy the previous year. Stacy's school
activities, from cheerleading to the track and swim team to supervising the
grade eight "Rec" class, made her almost certain to take the title instead of
Ashley, whose list of school activities was somewhat shorter (or, in truth,
non-existent). Life was too short, she figured. So, the two girls ruled over
their little clique in a co-operative fashion, acknowledging the other's
attributes without conceding superiority.
Ashley noticed Stacy coming out of a doorway at the other end of the hall,
followed by a couple of grade eight jerks. She looked a little dishevelled, but
Ashley put it down to the activity of the "Rec" class.
"Stacy," Ashley called after her, eager to have her share in the joke, but
Stacy didn't seem to hear, and moved down the hall away from the group. The two
boys followed close behind. Ashley narrowed her eyes as she watched her friend
turn a corner and disappear from view. Stacy had been acting a little strange
lately. She wondered if...
"She's coming!"
Stephanie, who had been watching around the corner, whispered the warning
and stepped back, out of sight. Ashley dropped Stacy from her mind and joined
the group as they watched expectantly.
They didn't have long to wait. Karen Williamson walked, unsuspecting,
around the corner and up to her locker. The heavy, dark-haired girl didn't
notice Ashley's group as they watched from the doorway. The trap was sprung! As
she pulled the locker door open, hundreds of sheets of paper slid out and onto
the floor in front of, and around, the locker. Each sheet had been carefully
torn from various Playboy and other,similar, magazines, depicting beautiful
women in some stage of undress. Karen watched, stunned, as more and more paper
fell out of her locker. Ashley and her group could contain themselves no
longer, and finally broke out into raucous laughter as more and more people in
the hallway stopped and stared. As well as putting the loose sheets in the
locker, they had pasted up a number of pictures on the door and walls of
Karen's locker. The people in the hallway began to laugh as Karen turned red,
and then began to cry with embarrassment.
Satisfied with the damage, Ashley led her group away from the scene of
their victory as more and more people joined the crowd of students laughing at
and taunting their unfortunate victim as she crawled around on her hands and
knees trying to recover the pictures.
If they had stayed a little longer, they might have noticed Sharon
Stevens, who had watched the whole incident develop, walk up to the humiliated
Karen and start talking to her in a hushed voice.
Karen quickly stopped crying and began to listen intently.
END PART SIX
=================================================================
SSY-07.TXT
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART SEVEN)
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
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.
=================================================================
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
=================================================================
SSY-08.TXT
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART EIGHT)
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story contains blackmail, semi-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 12. 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 the corner 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's, 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
=================================================================
SSY-09A.TXT
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART NINE-A)
by Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
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.
=================================================================
"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 dildos a foot long,
"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 dildos 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 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
=================================================================
SSY-09B.TXT
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART NINE-B)
by Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story contains any number of things which
could cause offence: blackmail, humilation, semi-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.
=================================================================
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
=================================================================
SSY-10.TXT
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART TEN)
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story contains any number of things you may
not want to read about: blackmail, humiliation,
semi-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 .
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 FAILED AND 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.
"Oww..." Stacy stumbled along behind her, trying to pull away but the pain
was too much. Finally, they arrived at the office. The secretary knocked on the
door and then pushed it open without waiting for an acknowledgment. She used
her grip on Stacy's reddened ear to propel the reluctant teenager into the
office and then entered behind her, closing the door.
Rubbing her ear, Stacy looked around. Dr. Grossman sat behind the desk, a
serious look on his face.
"Stacy," he said, "sit down."
"Sir," Stacy began breathlessly, "The yearbook... you have to..."
"SIT DOWN!"
Startled, Stacy fell silent and dropped into the seat directly opposite
the desk.
"This is a very serious matter," the principal explained grimly. "I've
just had some important evidence brought to my attention regarding your
academic performance this year."
"S-sir?"
Stacy flinched as she felt a hand at her shoulder. It was Ms. Peabody,
standing behind the chair.
"I found this cassette tape in my mailbox," Grossman continued, pulling a
small tape deck out of his desk. "Listen."
He punched the play button. Stacy listened. Almost at once, she heard 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?">
Stacy felt an absurd sense of deja vu as she 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. 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.
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..."
THE END???
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