Let's Go Play with Mrs. Day
by Willailla
The hot summer sun hung above them, blurred by the limp leaves of the
forest trees.
There were six of them. Three girls and three boys. They called
themselves The Pack.
Their leader was a dark-haired beauty by the name of Kaitlynn.
The blonde girl, Gail, following behind her, they called Piggy because she
wore her hair in pigtails and was chubby.
The oldest boy, Jeff, couldn't wait until he graduated to join the marines
and kill towel heads. He was a blond-headed and well-built, taller than the
others, of average intelligence, quiet, non-assertive.
Peter was thin and wore round, steel-rimmed glassed that magnified his blue
eyes as if they were floating in a fish bowl. He was an introverted genius who
had aced his SATs and was already in his third year of college despite his
youth. Some day he would be a surgeon. He had a thing for sharp instruments
and women's breasts.
Peter's sister, Beth, had small breasts. Like peter, she was thin with
stringy hair and a slightly large, Gothic nose. She was neurotic and
habitually chewed her fingernails.
Doug was a camera buff. Short and stocky. Burr-headed. His smiles looked
like grimaces. He liked to masturbate to photos of women he took in secret at
parks, swimming pools and beaches; anywhere where they were apt to be scantily
dressed. A poor student, he was always daydreaming, addicted to sodas and
sweated heavily with the slightest exertion.
The girls were dressed in halters and shorts, etc.; the boys in T-shirts
and shorts. Except for Jeff who wore a colorful tropical shirt unbuttoned to
show off his abs.
Kaitlynn wore a low-cut blouse with thin straps and tight, short cutoffs
that rose above the creases of her firm buttocks.
She led them down the forest slope a new way. She told them she didn't
want to keep taking the same route and wear a path to their secret place.
The secret place, farther down the slope, was a cave set back on a
sandstone shelf that hung above Kullhorn River. The water was deep,
light-green; the sandy bottom, thirty feet below, was clearly visible. Huge,
smooth boulders as big as two-car garages peeked above the slow swirls that
formed around them.
The cave was really just an overhang about fifteen feet high, twenty feet
deep and about as wide.
It was here on this rocky shelf that The Pack finally emerged.
There was a building tension. Faces took on an eager look.
Kaitlynn picked up a willow switch from last time and flicked it absently
against her tanned thigh like a swagger stick.
They moved toward a sycamore.
"Who's it this time?" Doug asked, brushing sweat from his eyes, his voice
quavered. He was fantasizing Kaitlynn, but that would never happen. She was
the leader.
Kaitlynn nodded toward Gail. They all knew.
Gail took a deep breath and undid her halter top, slipped out of her khaki
shorts with a wiggle, then kicked off her sneakers. She was naked underneath,
her body fleshy, but firm and well-shaped. She had a pretty face, the lips pink
and glossy. Her cheeks were faintly blushed. Her blue eyes glowed. Her
breasts, full and well formed, jiggled as she backed up against the trunk of the
tree.
Kaitlynn handed Jeff a coil of rawhide shoestring.
He tied one end around her wrist, then stepping behind the piebald trunk,
pulled her arms back around it and finished tying her other wrist. When he was
finished her hands had begun to turn red.
"Ow, that hurts!"
"Shut up, Piggy," Kaitlynn ordered, without raising her voice.
Kaitlynn drew the end of the willow switch across her nipples.
Gail shuddered, lowering her eyelids for an instant.
Kaitlynn tossed the switch away and pulled a packet of tin foil from her
pocket.
"We're gonna do something different this time." She dangled the packet
pinched between her thumb and forefinger and wagged it. Jeff pressed his
hand over Gail's mouth. Her eyes grew wide.
"We don't want you to get pregnant, Piggy."
Doug felt his heart begin to pound furiously in his chest. This was too
good to be true. Peter's magnified eyes went from the packet to Gail's breasts.
Spittle formed at the corner of his mouth.
Kaitlynn and Beth grabbed Gail legs, spread them, forcing the knees up
beside her shoulders. Her pussy lips were visible through the thin, blonde
pubic hairs.
Kaitlynn put her hand over Gail's mouth as Jeff stepped around.
He stared down at the girl's firm pussy lips, his face impassive as he
briefly poked his tongue between his lips to wet them.
He dropped his shorts, broke the packet open with his teeth and rolled the
rubber onto his erect cock.
Gail struggled at first, but when his cock was fully in she went limp, her
shapely breasts jiggling with the rapid, audible impact of his hard body against
hers.
Peter and Doug watched in breathless anticipation, their cocks straining in
their shorts. Doug pulled his out and began masturbating.
"We'll whip her when everyone's fucked her," Kaitlynn said.
Gail felt the warmth of the sun on her skin as it moved from behind a
fleecy cloud and the warmth of Jeff's hard body thrusting against her, his hot,
panting breath on her cheek. Sweat trickled between her breasts. She was aware
of the others watching. She could see the animal hunger in their eyes. Scared
at first, she was excited now. The pain caused by her bound wrists only added
to her excitement.
Jeff's cock was big. She could feel her cunt muscles spreading to
accommodate it. There was a faint squishy sound as it moved in and out. She
had been humiliated stripping in front of them. But this . . . this was going
too . . . . They'd never gone this far before. But every since the six of
them had started hanging out together she'd known that something like this was
in the offing.
They were just ordinary kids, but something had drawn them together like
iron filings to a magnet. Some secret need or longing that they sensed
intuitively.
Kaitlynn was the center of their little group. So beautiful. They all
lived to be in her presence. Just being near her gave their lives meaning. She
was the head cheerleader at Kullhorn High; she had her pick of the coolest guys
and her daddy had money -- lots of it. Yet, it was with them, The Pack, that
she spent her leisure time.
She was smart, too. She made straight-A's without seeming to crack a book
and was fluent in French and Spanish.
They'd all done a little pot and Ecstasy, but Kaitlynn introduced them to
coke and a plethora of designer drugs that she had scored from Euro hot spots
during daddy-paid-for vacations.
Life was wild and exciting with Kaitlynn. Summer was no longer boring
doldrums of lazy unproductive days. Everyday Kaitlynn was there to challenge
them, educate them: the government was corrupt. Presidents got blow jobs in
the White House. Wars were fought to enrich a wealthy few. Presidents were
buddies with dictators. More people lived in slavery now than in the whole
history of the human race. All of it financed by American and European banks.
Columbus, instead on being a noble explorer, had been a sadistic rapist and
murderer. Lincoln, the great emancipator, had been a racist.
What they were taught in school and church was bull shit. They were being
conned and lied to. Kaitlynn would set them straight.
The sum of it? There was no benevolent creator. Only an indifferent
universe. There were no rules. They could do whatever they wished.
And on and on, Kaitlynn opened their eyes.
The lips of Gail's labia were tingling. Her nipples felt like pebbles when
Jeff's chest pressed against them. She was taking the full, rapid thrust of his
cock. His tightened balls slapped against her perineum. He bit into the soft
skin of her neck. It hurt, but the pain only increased her excitement. It was
like being seduced by a vampire. One of her favorite fantasies.
Kaitlynn removed her hand from her mouth, and Jeff forced his wet tongue
deep inside. She felt faint. She had never dreamed anything could be this
good. She murmured encouragement as he cupped her breasts, squeezing them,
thumbing the hard nipples.
Electric bolts shot through her body. She would die! Her heart raced; her
breathing became a wild, uncontrollable pant, her incoherent words a hoarse
mingling of grunts and groans.
She could feel his cock swelling inside her. Cunt juice dripped down the
crack of her ass.
Suddenly, Jeff began pounding into her faster and faster. Harsh groans
erupted from his throat as his body stiffened against her. He rammed his cock
in with a powerful thrust and held it there, his body quaking violently.
Then with a loud sigh he pulled from her.
She had wanted more. He couldn't quit now. She needed more. Wanted
more. She hadn't cummed.
Kaitlynn and Beth lowered her legs. Trembling, she could hardly stand.
Her breasts and cheeks burned a bright red from where Jeff's skin had rubbed
against them. She was dizzy. The sky swirled above her.
The others watched her hungrily. Especially the wetness around her cunt.
Jeff peeled the wet rubber off his cock. The end was heavy with cum.
"Give it to me," Kaitlynn said.
She turned to Gail.
"Open your mouth."
She pushed the open end in.
* * *
Duncan Heights was a subdivision situated on what had once been a 500 acre
farm belonging to Ishmael Duncan. Half of it had been lush meadow elevated on a
rise above Kullhorn River, the other half, woods. The woods had been cut for
timber, after old man Duncan sold it to developers, and three hundred homes had
been erected in the then style of the 50s with lots of stone, wood beams and
picture windows.
The fringe of these houses bordered a bank of forest land that sloped down
to Kullhorn River. In the front lawn of one of these homes, a pretty woman, by
the name of Rebecca Day, was surveying the recently purchased property of her
and her husband. She strolled through the ankle deep grass with her dog,
Scruffy, a mutt Terrier.
Her nose wrinkled as she squinted her eyes against the morning sun. She
pulled the wide brim of her straw hat down farther. The grass was wet against
her bare feet. It was going to be another scorcher. Already sweat was
trickling down between her breasts even though all she had on was a thin,
bare-shouldered, summer dress. There was the gleam of a gold necklace around
her neck and a small cross.
Scruffy trotted off in front of her and around the corner. The grass in
back was even more overgrown than in front. There were two acres of lawn
stretching back to a thick wall of trees. She would have to use a lawn service
until she could buy a mower. Privacy hedges on either side had been left to
grow wild and were fifteen feet high, ragged but at least thick enough to block
her neighbors' view.
For a moment she thought about her husband, Alan, whose reserve unit had
been called up and shipped to Iraq a week ago. He would have had the place
shipshape in no time. The roof shingles were old and needed replacing. And
the concrete drive was cracked here and there. The renovations he had been
planning would have to be put on hold now. He had to serve a year, and there
was no guarantee that his term of duty wouldn't be extended, as long as there
was no draft.
Scruffy ran back to the edge of the trees and came to abrupt stop, barking
and growling.
"C'mon, Scruff."
Rebecca clapped her hands and bent over at the waist to pet the little dog
as it ran back to her.
"What did you see, numb skull, a rabbit?"
She hoped that was all it was, for she had been told by her next door
neighbors, the Pierces, that there were bears and mountain lions in the woods.
Which was probably true since Duncan Heights was on the edge of the state park.
She didn't want Scruffy gobbled up.
As they headed toward the newish wood deck at the back of the house, she
cast a glance over her shoulder. The lines from the Frost poem came to mind:
". . . the woods are lovely, dark and deep . . . ."
She walked up the steps and paused next to the chamfered Jacuzzi. After a
moment she drew back the heavy, insulated cover. Beads of warm water dripped
onto the deck.
She took her hat and dress off and climbed down into the swirling water. A
tingle of excitement surged through her body as a jet of water palpated her
labia.
* * *
Jeff woke up with a hard-on. He'd been recalling, in a semi-dream state,
fucking Gail.
How fuckin' hot was that!
That little bitch was tight.
After he'd fucked her, they'd made her get on her hands and knees. Doug
had fucked her in the ass while she sucked Peter. What was really hot was when
she ate Beth out. God, that dyke shit really turned him on.
As he remembered he became aware of his mother standing in the doorway.
"Time to get up."
Jeff groaned.
"It's raining," he said. "I won't be able to work today."
"Yeah, but your father thinks you should go see our new neighbors, the
Days. They just moved in and you might get them to let you mow their lawn. You
need all the summer work you can get if you plan on going to college."
Jeff mumbled an okay and sat up after his mother padded back down the hall.
Fuck college. He'd never told his parents that he was going into the
Marines as soon as he got out of high school. For a moment images of Rambo
filled his head. He was there in the desert. His chest was bare; his muscular
arms held a machine gun; there was a naked girl clinging to him as he fired
rounds of ammo into an advancing horde of sand niggers.
It was still raining when he'd peddled his bike to the Days. He was
looking at the unkempt lawn and feeling hopeful when the door opened.
"Mrs. Day?"
Damn, she was a looker. Fine blonde hair cut short and parted on the side.
Fuckin' dog barking somewhere. Sounds like a small'un. Incredible tits in a
pink halter. A long multi-colored wrap skirt down to her ankles. Bet there's
nothin' on underneath.
"Yes."
"I'm Jeff Willis. I have a small lawn-care business, and I was wondering
if you would be interested in my services on a weekly basis?"
She looked at him as if he had spoken in a foreign language. Then a look
of concern form on the pretty face.
"My goodness, Jeff, you're soaking wet."
Jeff gave a short embarrassed laugh.
"Well, it had stopped raining when I left the house, but it started again
when I was about halfway over."
She stepped back, opening wide the door.
"Come in."
The dog barked again.
A small fucker.
It growled softly, then hid beneath a dinning room table.
"That's Scruffy. He's harmless."
He followed her into a living room. Unopened boxes were lined up against a
book case. There were no curtains on the window. On a leather sofa, where she
must've been sitting, was an opened Bible with gold edging. A lamp gave off a
yellow circle of light on an end table.
She disappeared through a doorway and after a moment reappeared with a
fluffy, blue towel.
"Here dry yourself off with this before you chill."
His T-shirt and canvas shorts were soaked, but there was nothing he could
do about that. He rubbed his head until his hair was only a little damp then
handed the towel back to her.
He looked out the patio windows and beyond the deck to the fringe of privet
hedges and the enclosing woods farther back. Unlike the front of the house the
back was entirely secluded, special. It reminded him of the rock shelf and the
cave. A place were The Pack could do all those thing that society said were
taboo.
She folded the towel, then held it down in one hand against her thigh.
"I haven't unpacked half our things yet," she said, with a slight wave of
the hand holding the towel at the boxes near the bookcase. "My husband was
going to fix things up, but his reserve unit was called up."
Jeff brightened.
"I'm gonna volunteer when I graduate. Marines."
She smiled, and it seemed, a little sadly.
"Well, Jeff, how much would you want to mow the yard? I'm sure anyone
ambitious enough to get out on a day like this must be a good worker."
Jeff grinned and held up his index finger to the side of his head to
indicate a pause for consideration and stepped back to the patio windows. He
estimated about two acres. He usually charged twenty bucks an acre, but there
was a lot of scraggily branches growing out of the privet hedge. He'd have to
use a chain saw to prune it back. Helluva lot of work, but he wanted this job
-- not for the money but just in order to be around her. Her husband was outta
the picture. Who knows, maybe she'd get horny for a little young meat.
He was thinking he could easily charge sixty bucks a week for a yard like
this, but he wasn't going to.
"Twenty a week, and I'll keep the undergrowth clear around the hedges."
She didn't even consider. She smiled and nodded. He was sure then that he
could've gotten more, but why take a chance and blow it? If things worked out
the way he was hoping, he'd be getting something from her worth a helluva lot
more than money.
She held out her hand, and it was warm and soft when he shook it.
* * *
Bathed in a red glow, Doug was in the basement in a small storage room that
he had converted into a darkroom. He had just exposed a sheet of photo paper
and placed it in a tray of developer.
He was eager. This was the first time he'd gotten pics of a naked woman.
His cock was painfully hard. He'd had to reach down under his waistband and
adjust it to a more comfortable position.
He could have used his digital camera and transferred his pics straight
into his computer except it didn't have a telephoto lens and the pics wouldn't
be as good as these. He'd used an old Canon that his father had given him years
ago.
A form began to appear. When the contrast was just right he flopped the
photo into a stop bath with a pair of plastic tweezers.
As it floated in the stop bath he stared at it. The woman was standing on
a wood deck. She'd just taken off a floppy straw hat and was in the process of
raising her dress over her head. She was bare from the waist down. A little
white dog was sitting near by on its haunches watching her with its head cocked
to one side.
That damn little dog had almost given him away as he hid in the woods at
the back of the woman's house.
The next pic showed the dress hanging in mid air. The woman totally naked.
Hot!
There were more pics. He'd snapped frantically. Dozens of frames freezing
and gradating her descent into the Jacuzzi. Degradating her descent.
His mother had pointed her out a week ago in the parking lot of Big K
supermarket. She had been wearing a pair of white shorts and a black T-shirt
and was getting off a yellow motor scooter.
She was, his mother said, the new English teacher to replace Mrs. Germond
who had died recently. Her husband had been sent over to the Gulf.
It was then that Doug knew what he was going to do. For a week he had hung
out in the woods behind her house with a 500/1500mm fixed zoom lens on the Canon
and waited. Even in the fuckin' rain. It'd been shit, but it had paid off.
He reached down and squeezed his throbbing cock through his jeans. It'd
been worth it. Nude pics of his future English teacher.
Wait till he told The Pack.
* * *
Brace Turpin watched the pretty woman come to a halt under the green and
white striped canvas awning in front of Turpin's. A sudden sheet of heavy rain
began pelting the world outside the wide glass window.
She was wearing a billowy, low-cut, summer dress with shoestring straps.
The waist was elasticized showing off its narrowness. From there down the dress
fluted out. A pair of tan , high-heeled sandals on her feet matched the color
of the dress.
Turpin tapped on the window with his diamond pinky ring, next to a small
neon Budweiser sign.
She glanced at him, then up at the gray sky swirling with dark purple
clouds. The wind picked up, lifting the dress, revealing shapely legs, then the
rain blew in on her
Turpin stepped to the door and opened it as she hurried inside.
"Might as well wait in here; looks like it's gonna rain for awhile."
"Yes, I think you're right." Her thin dress was soaked and clung to her
thighs and breasts revealingly.
Turpin inclined his head toward a booth. The place was deserted except for
a couple of men at a pool table in back and a tired looking woman, with a gaudy
red dye job and heavy green eye-shadow, tending the bar. A cigarette dangled
from the red slash of her mouth.
"How 'bout something to drink? On me."
Her blonde hair was plastered to her head. She brushed at an errant
trickle down her cheek.
"I don't drink."
"Nothing?" Turpin replied with a humorous raising of a bushy eyebrow.
"Well, maybe a diet Coke or something," she grinned.
Her teeth were smooth and white.
"Sure."
He motioned to the tired-looking woman, and she nodded.
"And you've never drunk anything stronger than sodas?"
"Nope." She smiled.
"Oh, that wouldn't be good for business -- if everybody was like that."
She smiled.
"I don't think you'll ever have to worry -- about that."
"Nah, I don't suppose. Just a little rain is more than enough to keep'm
away. Do you always wander around in the rain? Maybe you're a mermaid, no? A
beautiful siren luring unfortunates to their doom?"
"Hardly." (She actually blushed.) "More like a drowned rat. My motor
scooter is across the street. I thought the rain was over, so I came into town
to get a few things, but it wasn't -- it seems -- over."
"No car?"
"It's in the shop getting a transplant."
Turpin smiled.
"Well, I'm certainly not needed around here. Wahdayuh say I give you a
lift home, pretty lady?"
"Well --"
"Liable to rain the rest of the day."
"What about my scooter? I can't leave it parked on the street."
"I'll have one of my boys load it up on a truck and bring it to you."
"Well, if it's --"
"No problem. No problem."
* * *
"The rain makes you sleepy, doesn't it?"
The windshield wipers were swishing back and forth. The sound of the rain
on top of the car roof was deafening. Rebecca couldn't understand how he could
see to drive. The windshield was a blur of water, even with the wipers on high.
She felt disoriented. Tired. She could hardly hold her eyes open.
His hand was on her bare thigh. Her wet dress was pushed up to her hips.
How had that happened?
Thinking was too much of an effort. She kept losing her train of thought.
He had drugged her. Yet, knowing that, she couldn't determine how she felt
about it. Then she forgot about it.
Had she mentioned that Alan was in the Gulf? She couldn't remember.
She was naked on a bed. She could see him in the bathroom mirror palming
some pills into his mouth, then taking a drink.
She felt the bed tilt as he sat down. The world spun around in her head.
His hand rubbed her naked belly in a slow, steady circle. It felt good. His
fingers gently tweaked her nipples making them hard. Tingling sensations moved
down her spine; spreading through her thighs. She felt her labia tighten and
swell. The urge to have him in her was deliciously overwhelming.
Without his clothes she could see his body was covered with a thick coat of
grizzly hair. A thick, long cock poked out from beneath a pot belly. He spread
her legs and positioned himself between them.
With a sharp grunt and a jab of his hips his cock enter her all the way to
the balls. She could feel them taut and warm against her perineum. She saw his
face grimace; brown, crooked teeth clenched. She felt him quiver in her. He
sighed; pulled out, then rammed back in her. He fucked her with harsh
intensity. The headboard creaked.
He lay panting on top of her.
A hand pushed some pills between her lips.
Her hips were clenched between powerful hands; fingernails dug into the
soft, white flesh above her hips.
She was on her hands and knees on the bed. She turned her head.
The wide-screen TV was showing a porno flick. But that didn't make sense.
They didn't have a wide-screen TV. A burly man was fucking a well-built babe on
her hands and knees. Rebecca stared with fascination as the man's huge dick
rammed in and out like a piston. The woman seemed to be enjoying it. Her eyes
drooped seductively, and her tongue kept wetting her lips. Her hips swiveled
back eagerly to meet the man's thrusts.
He held her head back by the hair so that her throat was bared as if for a
sacrificial knife. Rebecca could feel the painful protest of scalp sinew.
The woman on the TV screen had well-rounded breasts and they jiggled
provocatively as the man's beer belly thumped against her firm ass cheeks.
God, he was as hairy as a bear.
Then the fog in her head cleared for a moment. The TV became her vanity
mirror. She could feel the painful thrusts. Then everything softened again. A
purple haze descended.
She was on her knees; in the living room. His dick was in her mouth,
gagging her. Her nose was bent against his hairy belly; his hands pulled on her
ears forcing her head forward.
Spittle dripped from her mouth down her chin.
His cock swelled in her mouth as cum spewed forth. She had never tasted
cum before. She could feel the jerky, hot spurts against the back of her
throat.
An oldie went jangling through her brain:
"Yummy, yummy, yummy, I've got love in my tummy."
* * *
Another month had come and gone and The Pack were on lounge chairs around a
rectangular-shaped pool at Kaitlynn's palatial home high on a knoll overlooking
Duncan Heights. Golden sparkles of light played through the brilliantly blue
water. High above the unsheathed sun forced heat waves from the green forest
that encircled the horizon.
They were all naked. Kaitlynn's parents were in Morocco for business and
fun.
Gail was lying on her back while Kaitlynn shaved her pussy with a straight
razor.
"It feels really good when it first begins to grow back," she was saying.
"When it's all stubble and scratchy. It'll make your cunt tingle."
Kaitlynn looked around at the group. They weren't much. They weren't
self-starters like herself. They lacked imagination. Without her leadership
they would vegetate. But then, that was what she wanted: followers; she didn't
want competitors. It was sexually exciting to have others at your beck and
call.
She had turned both Gail and Beth into bisexuals. They had been innocent
virgins before The Pack. Now they were sex sluts. And maybe just for the fun
of it she would turn them into prostitutes. She had made them perform every
kind of perverted sex act possible. Jeff, Doug and Peter had fucked them in
every possible position. It was getting harder and harder to come up with new
ideas.
But she was confident she would come up with something to keep them
engaged.
She had really got off on it when she'd made Peter fuck his sister without
a rubber. They were still waiting to see what the outcome of that would be.
"We need to try something different," Kaitlynn said, looking around at all
of them. She took a damp cloth and wiped excess shaving foam off Gail's cunt.
The little slut was wet -- and not from the cloth. Her cunt was leaking
like an old radiator. Her blue eyes had a dreamy, turned-on look.
"Anyone got any ideas?"
Peter and his sister were seated together. She was between his legs with
her back against his chest. His bony fingers played with her small breasts.
They were inseparable now. Zoned out on hash.
Jeff was seated on the foot of a lounger staring at Gail's pussy. His
large cock was hard.
Doug was belly down on a towel next to the pool. He hadn't told them about
the nude photos he had of Mrs. Day. Keeping them secret and masturbating to
them had been exciting, but that thrill was beginning to wear thin. And he was
curious, now, to see what Kaitlynn's reaction would be when she saw'm.
He was willing to bet it would be interesting.
* * *
Rebecca had just finished taking a home pregnancy test. It was positive.
How would she explain this to Alan? If she said she had been raped, why hadn't
she reported it?
Why? How could she have faced the humiliation?
She studied her figure in the full length bathroom mirror. She wasn't
showing yet. She was still slim and shapely.
She slipped on an ankle-length, black silk skirt and a gauzy top with
spaghetti-string straps. A gold bracelet with tiny bells jingled around her
ankle.
She heard a mower start up and padded barefoot into the dining room and
stared out the patio door. Jeff was seated on a riding mower wearing only
sneakers and a pair of cut-off jeans. His long blonde hair was sun-bleached in
silver streaks from days spent outdoors. His muscular, well-shaped body had a
deep reddish gold tan.
As she watched she realized that Scruffy wasn't about. She called his
name, but she didn't hear the familiar jangle of his dog tags whenever he came
on the run. She went from room to room calling out his name; she looked under
the bed, in closets, but he was nowhere. Yet he couldn't have gotten out. The
outside doors were shut.
Becoming worried she went back to the dining room and opened the patio
door. Stepping down into the lawn she waved Xs at Jeff. He brought the mower
to a halt and shut the engine off.
"Jeff, have you seen Scruffy?"
"Yeah, he was around here somewhere. He was scratching at the patio door
when I got here, so I let him out. I figured he had to go. He went back toward
the woods to chew on some of the tall grass. Probably had a little stomach
upset."
"I don't see him." She glanced back at the woods with a worried
expression. With her mind preoccupied she wasn't aware of the lustful look that
Jeff directed at the firm fullness of her unrestricted breasts beneath the
flimsy top.
She called out the dog's name several times, but there was no jangle, no
answering bark.
"Probably went back into the woods and got lost," Jeff said.
She stepped past him a little ways toward the thick cover of trees. He
stared at her, his eyes traveling up and down the svelte figure. It wasn't hard
to imagine her nude.
"Want me to go looking for him, Mrs. Day?"
"Would you?" (anxious) Yes. I'm afraid he might get hurt wandering around
in there."
"No problem."
Jeff slid off the mower seat, then hesitated.
"Maybe you'd better come with me. He doesn't know me that well, and he
might not come to me."
Rebecca nodded.
He held some branches back for her.
"Careful, Mrs. Day; there's a lot of saw briars; scratch the heck out of
you."
They moved slowly down the slope. It was cooler within the shade, but more
stifling. Insects buzzed and flittered about in the humid closeness of
vegetation.
Their feet crunched on a carpet of leaf-fall from previous years. Spider
webs, like phantom tendrils, so fine as to be invisible to the eyes, brushed
along her face, shoulders and arms. Sweat coursed down her freshly bathed body,
naked beneath her thin blouse and skirt.
She called out Scruffy's name, but sound itself was swallowed and dispersed
by the immense maze of trees and underbrush. It was like being in a silencer.
If Scruffy was out there would she hear his bark?
At the bottom of the slope they stepped out onto a rock outcropping.
Rebecca could see a cave set back into the slope. Off to the side the Kullhorn
flowed by with majestic ennui. Large boulders stuck up from the water like gray
helmets forming islands here and there.
As she followed Jeff farther out on the shelf she felt something soft and
squishy under her barefoot. Looking down she saw a rubber, the bulbous end
filled with viscous-looking, gray fluid.
Behind her she heard a twig snap. Looking around she saw a stocky,
burr-headed boy step out from the thick underbrush. There was a camera hanging
from a strap around his neck.
He was naked.
His body was painted like a savage's with surrealistic designs.
More sounds made her spin back around, her heart suddenly racing; fear
constricted her throat.
A thin boy and three girls came from the cave, naked, too; their bodies
equally painted in brilliant psychedelic colors.
The tallest girl, shapely with long black hair, stepped out ahead of the
others.
Her face was white with dark circles around the eyes making it look like a
skull.
"Welcome to hell, Mrs. Day."
The burr-headed boy grabbed her wrists. He was strong. She was so afraid
she didn't dare resist.
Jeff was staring at her hungrily as he took off his shorts. His cock was
becoming hard with a series of jerks.
"You can scream if you like," the dark-haired girl said. "But no one will
hear you except us, and we're not exactly on your team."
"Whaaat arrre you goin . . . going to do?" Rebecca could hardly speak from
fear; her voice quavered; her body trembled.
Kaitlynn stepped in front of her and let her eyes travel up and down the
sexy body.
"Nice. Really nice."
She reached out and stroked Rebecca's cheek lightly with the tips of her
fingers, then pressed the tip of her index finger against her victim's trembling
lips.
"Umm, you don't wanna know; trust me."
She lowered the hand, drawing an imaginary line down the chin and throat.
She brushed it lightly over a breast.
Despite her fear, Rebecca felt a quick tremor of excitement that quickly
dissipated.
The girl touched a nipple through the thin cotton blouse and tweaked it
lightly with a slow milking motion.
"What should we do with her, guys?"
Jeff laughed coarsely.
Rebecca felt her knees go weak, but the burr-headed boy kept her up.
"Have you ever done the girlie thing, Mrs. Day?"
Rebecca turned her face away.
"I didn't think so. How 'bout three young studs at once, wouldn't you like
that, old lady? Be a sin to waste a sexy, little bod like yours."
"Stop it! Stop it!," Rebecca cried out with a sob. "Let me go! Please
let me go!"
Kaitlynn's blue eyes flashed down at her with anger. Her hand shot out
with a resounding slap against Rebecca's cheek that jarred her head sideways.
"Shut the fuck up you little slut!"
Her lips formed into a malicious smirk.
Rebecca felt the burr-headed youth press against her; she could feel the
hot, hard texture of his cock through the thin material of her dress as the full
length of it snuggled in the crack between her firm ass cheeks.
His tongue, wet and warm, darted into her ear. She jerked away, but with a
crude chuckle he pulled her back against his chest.
"That's right. You fight, teacher. We'll like it better that way."
The others were grinning through their macabre face paint.
With a shock Rebecca realized that they had planned this. For how long?
They knew who she was. Jeff had tricked her. Scruffy's disappearance had been
a ploy to get her here.
Fear radiated through her tensed body. Her nipples grew hard in a
perverse reaction.
What were they going to do to her?
The tall girl snapped her fingers, and the chubby blonde slapped a narrow
object into the palm of her outstretched hand.
With a flick of her wrist a shinny blade appeared and reflected the gleam
of the sunlight. A straight razor. The cock burrowed against her ass became
instantly harder. She writhed and twisted in the boy's steel grip trying to
break free, then stopped as she realized that she was turning him on. He held
her wrists so tightly that she could no longer feel her hands. They were numb.
He laid wet kisses on her neck and shoulders. Spittle trickled down
between her breasts.
"I'm Kaitlynn," the tall girl said.
She raised the shinny blade to the thin strap of Rebecca's blouse and cut
through it. The blouse slanted down revealing a swollen nipple.
Kaitlynn paused; as if musing, she pressed the side of the blade casually
against her own lower lip. Then, glancing around, she playfully introduced the
others one by one.
"We would have been in your English class, Mrs. Day."
The 'would have' went through Rebecca like an arrow.
"What are you all going to do?" Rebecca asked again.
Kaitlynn merely smiled and cut through the other strap.
The blouse dropped down onto her hips in folds.
"Umm, that depends on you," Kaitlynn answered. "If you're cooperative
maybe nothing."
She flipped the razor back to the blonde, Gail. Then she grabbed the skirt
with both hands and jerked it down letting it pile around Rebecca's ankles.
Only the hip-clinging blouse covered her nakedness. Kaitlynn yanked it
down.
Now Rebecca could feel the boy's raw, drooling cock against her bare
buttocks.
Slowly he slid his cock up and down the crack of her ass. Occasionally the
slick, rubbery head would poke against the tight ring of her anus, then slide
farther down between her legs and rub up against her labia.
"OK, bring her along," Kaitlynn ordered.
The two girls, Gail and Beth, each took a wrist and led her across the rock
shelf to where a red oak lay on the ground, its trunk three feet wide.
The three boys stayed behind on the shelf watching. Each had a full
erection.
"Guys, this is hot, but we're all gonna go to prison after it's over,"
Peter said, adjusting his steel-rimmed glasses.
"I wouldn't worry," Doug said, tapping his camera. "That's why Kaitlynn
had me bring this. I'll take a bunch of photos of her naked, doing it; she
won't tell on us then."
"Is that what Kaitlynn told you?" Peter's magnified eyes swam behind the
thick lens giving them a cold, alien look.
"Not in so many words, no, but, hell fire, no worry. Kaitlynn's got it all
figured out. You can bet on that. What woman would want it known she was gang
raped? And especially she wouldn't want photos given out to all her friends and
associates, would she?"
Peter didn't reply right away. He slowly stroked his long, thin cock, the
foreskin moving back and forth over the dark-purple head. He stared off into
space as if his mind were elsewhere.
"She has nice tits; do you think Kaitlynn would . . . let . . . us . . . ."
His voice drifted.
"Would let us what?" Jeff asked, glancing significantly at Doug. Both
youths knew that Peter was a little strange. They'd heard stories from his
sister about frogs being operated on when he was in the first grade, then later
cats and small dogs. He wanted to be a surgeon though, so maybe it wasn't all
that weird.
But hellfire heck then, weren't they all a little bit weird to be doing
what they were doing? And when you get right down to it, who's to say when
'normal shit' steps off into 'weird shit'? Governments kill millions of people
every year and no one thinks that's weird. But let some punk-ass kill a gas
station attendant and it's splashed all over the media.
Maybe The Pack, maybe they, were the sane ones, and the rest of the world
were the crazies. Or maybe everyone was crazy. Or maybe sanity and insanity
were the same thing.
Jeff liked the paradox. He didn't often fancy himself a philosopher, but
he thought he had arrived at some weird-ass, universal truth quite nicely. And
wasn't that the goal of philosophy: to arrive at the truth?
What the fuck is truth?
Doug moved closer to where the girls were tying Rebecca over the trunk of
the tree. His heart was hammering as he sighted through his camera and snapped
several photos.
God, they were actually gonna do her!
She was bowed belly down over the gray trunk, her wrists and ankles tied to
ropes anchored to stakes in the ground. Her legs were stretched far apart so
that the pink rims of her cunt and anal crater were visible.
He could imagine how good it was going to feel sinking his dick to the
balls in those sweet looking orifices.
Gail was shaving her cunt hairs, revealing smooth labia lips slightly
parted so that an inner dark pink was visible.
Rebecca was making tiny squealing protests as Kaitlynn and Beth tightened
the ropes around her ankles and wrists, taking out the slack.
Boy, it had to hurt bad, Doug was thinking. Her tender breasts and belly
were fully stretched over the rough bark of the tree trunk, her hands and feet
were already turning purple. Her firm ass cheeks quivered with tiny, sharp
spasms as her naked body protested against its unnaturally contorted position.
Gail slapped the quivering ass, giggling, as she finished shaving their
lovely victim's cunt.
Rebecca, unable to believe what was happening, was staring at the rawhide
straps that bound her wrists to wooden stakes hammered into the ground when a
cock entered her. It moved into her slowly but steadily until a warm belly
pressed against her buttocks.
Her husband had been the only man to enter her until Turpin raped her. Now
she was being violated again while being watched by a group of savage children.
Children who would have been her students in the fall.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the youth called Doug snapping his
camera.
What were they going to do with the photos?
What if, she thought with alarm, they put them on the Internet, for anyone
who wants to download?
The cock moved in and out more rapidly. With each jarring impact of flesh
on flesh the straps cut into her delicate wrists and ankles painfully.
* * *
"You like it don't you?" Turpin said.
He was in her, naked, on top of her. He had just cummed for the second
time.
He pulled his fat cock out of her and let it drip on her belly.
There was a smirk on his round face.
He knew!
The tightening of her cunt muscles had given her away.
Shame overwhelmed her.
She had cummed.
The face of her husband floated before her. Oh, Alan, I . . . .
Alan, dear, sweet Alan. Your naked bride never cummed like that for you.
I faked it. Always faked it. You tried, but you just didn't make me
climb the ladder . . . over too fast? Or . . . weren't you rough enough? More
demanding? Some women like to be made to . . . ?
Oh, God! This beer-bellied, hairy low-life knew how to make her go
crazy-wild. He had turned her into a lusting animal.
He had raped her into submission. And she loved it!
She felt sick to her stomach.
He had come back the day after with her scooter.
He must've taken her house key.
She was in the shower when he opened the opaque door and stepped in. The
arrogant smirk on his face.
He backed her against the tiled wall and pinched her nose closed,
smothering her, until she was forced to swallow more of the multi-colored pills
he pressed against her mouth.
Soon her reality became a swirling kaleidoscope of psychedelic fragments
changing from one moment unto the next without rhyme or reason.
He lifted her legs up, keeping her backed against the wall. While the
shower gushed down upon their naked bodies, he rammed his swollen cock into her,
grinding his fat belly against her.
He stepped back slightly so that she had to put her arms around his neck to
keep from falling backwards. This forced her to cling to him intimately in a
physical, albeit involuntary, acquiescence.
His wet tongue slithered between her lips forcing her mouth open. He moved
it in and around washing her out, then clamping her tongue between his teeth he
pulled it out as far as it would go. The pain caused her nipples to become taut
and her cunt to tighten around his cock -- which was, no doubt, the end result
he was seeking.
Despite the humiliation of being raped she felt something stirring deep
inside her, a faint tingling sensation that began to build and spread through
out her ravaged body.
Slowly it became an insistent, surging wave that overwhelmed her, drowning
her in a sea of lust.
She found her hips moving in rhythm with his. It no longer mattered that
it was rape. In fact that made it more exciting. His crudeness, his ugliness,
his fat, hairy body made it almost like an act of bestiality.
She was quivering uncontrollably as she came and came again.
He had come back almost everyday after that filling her with his fat cock
and his cum.
"You like it," he said, his fat cock dripping on her belly. "You're one of
those women."
He moved off the bed and went into the bathroom to shower off.
She stood in the doorway as he toweled off minutes later.
"What kind of woman is 'one of those'?"
"One of those," he said, with a smirk. His arrogance was maddening, but
exciting.
He snapped the damp towel against her breast. It hurt.
She covered it with the palm of her hand; the grimace disappeared as her
eyelids lowered; her lips parted slightly. Anger and frustration, her sense of
powerlessness, mixed with something dark in her: a need fueled by pain; and he
knew it.
"You know," he said.
He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed until it
hurt.
She jerked her face away from him.
He chuckled.
"You like it. You're one of those women who'll do whatever she's told."
Anger flashed in her eyes.
"You're turned on by being submissive, turned on because you hate it; it's
a weakness, and you don't like that; you want to be strong -- and, yet, you want
even more to be dominated. You hate me because I turn you on, reveal your
weakness. But with your type hate is really love in some twisted sense, huh?"
He grinned smugly, and she barely resisted a impulse to slap his face.
"I am not . . ." she stammered, her confident tone dwindling off. ". . .
one of those."
His grin grew wider.
"Oh, yes you are. If I told you to get on your knees and drink my piss
you'd do it."
"Never!"
"You'd do it because you wouldn't want to. That's what turns you on."
"No. You could force me; you're stronger than I am, but I'd never do
anything that disgusting of my own free will. Never."
The grin disappeared from his face to be replaced with a stern, unyielding
look.
He tossed the towel at her feet.
"We'll see," he said, with a certainty that unnerved her. "Take a shower,
then fix yourself up the way I like; I'll be on the deck."
"We'll see," she repeated hotly in the shower as she scrubbed her naked
flesh trying to clean off all trace of him on her.
The streams of hot water stung her breasts like a torrent of pine needles.
He would see, she thought, as she briskly rubbed herself down with a
fresh-scented towel.
She stared in the mirror for several minutes, motionless, fuming. Then she
begin to apply her makeup -- the way he liked: glossy, candy apple red lips;
green eye shadow, pancake, mascara, lip liner, eyeliner, blush. Strong perfume
from a bottle he'd brought her -- until she looked and smelled like a back-alley
whore.
He was naked, sitting up on a lounger. On a sideboard sat two freshly
emptied bottles of beer. Beads of sweat still clung to them. Another bottle
was in his hand.
His cock was soft now but still thick and menacing-looking. She could
still feel its previous hard massiveness moving in her.
"Get on your knees," was all he said.
She looked around at the now neatly trimmed lawn and hedges. It was noon.
The sun burned a hole in the sky.
"Somebody might see us."
He stared at her without replying.
She got on her knees next to the lounger.
"I'll suck you but nothing more."
It didn't take long for the cock to become hard forcing her mouth fully
open. She felt the foreskin slide back over the head and got a leaky taste of
pre-cum on her tongue.
He pinched her ears and pulled her face toward his gut, forcing her to
swallow all of him. Tears gushed from her eyes as she fought an impulse to
vomit.
She couldn't breathe with the huge organ rammed down her throat. She
squirmed backwards making choking sounds, but her struggles only seemed to
excite him more. She felt his cock become harder, thicker.
Suddenly a stream of bleach-tasting cum shot down her throat as the massive
cock spewed out its load.
She gulped frantically. She almost swooned. The sun spun out of control
in the sky. Its rays flaming her naked flesh.
It was over.
The cock softened in her mouth, but, still, he held her face pressed
against his pudgy, wiry-haired belly.
Then she felt it. The first wet drips. Then warm spurts, then a gushing
stream of tepid piss filled her mouth, and she swallowed . . . hard.
.
The stringy haired girl called Beth and the blonde, Gail, held her up by
her arms. Skullface, the tall, blackheaded girl, who seemed to be their leader,
the one called Kaitlynn, held her ankle while Jeff, her lawn boy, held her other
ankle.
They held her spread-eagled between them, her ass a couple of feet above
the sandstone shelf.
Above, the sun glittered through the breeze-fluttered leaves. A jerky
squirrel hopped from the high branch of an oak onto the branch of a black cherry
and vanished. She blinked her eyes against the brittle, darts of light.
As they carried her out onto the shelf open patches of sky appeared through
the towering trees that seemed to converge over her, and in this sudden openness
she felt inverted over a wide blue bowl. If her captors would release her she
felt that she would fall up into it.
She raised her head farther up and stared down over her belly. The skinny
boy they called Peter was lying on his back on the center of the shelf. His
long, thin cock was jutting up in the air. They carried her to him and
positioned her spread legs over him and lowered her onto him.
He stared up at her through the thick lens of his glasses. His eyes were
like huge blue marbles with dark moons. There was no emotion in them. They
moved from her face to her breasts, and she saw a salacious gleam of hunger form
across his face. The thin tip of a tongue moved out from thin lips and licked
them. The cock quivered.
She didn't resist. She knew it was futile. She held her breath as the
tall girl grabbed the cock and placed the glans against her slit.
The cock was thin, but there seemed to be no end to it. And when it
seemed that it would be impossible to take anymore of him, there was the soft
feel of fuzz-covered sack-skin. Golf ball sized testicles were constricted up
tight against the base of the cock rubbing against her velvet-skinned perineum.
It moved in her belly like a giant worm. Her handlers jostled her back and
forth, up and down on its stiff length. Underneath her the boy humped, moaning
in ecstasy.
Viscous cum juice, from the previous rape, oozed out of her cunt and
dripped onto his belly.
The two girls. Beth and Gail, pushed her down onto the full length of
straining cock until it was seated deep in her pussy, then they began sucking on
her tits, pulling the nipples outward with their teeth and tonguing them until
they were as hard as pebbles. A finger moved down to her asshole and slid
inside and began working in and out in conjunction with the cock.
As her handlers lifted her up and down on Peter's cock, it slipped from her
pussy. The boy groaned loudly as hot streams of cum shot up onto her belly and
breasts.
Nearby, Doug was frantically snapping pictures, his heavy erection bobbing
from his groin.
"You guys can watch now while we girls have a little fun," Kaitlynn said.
The three of them formed a circle around Rebecca who was forced onto her
hands and knees.
Kaitlynn got on her knees before Rebecca and pulled her slumped head up by
the hair until she was forced to stare up at her.
"Eat me, bitch!"
Rebecca stared at the shaved pussy in panic. She had never had oral sex,
not even with her husband, until Turpin had forced her to service him. The
thought of eating a woman's pussy had always occurred to her as something
repulsive when she had first heard tales about it from giggling girlfriends in
grade school.
Her religion forbid it. Any kind of sex, other than for procreation, was
forbidden. And, even then, only the missionary position was grudgingly allowed.
Lesbian sex was blasphemy. The punishment, eternal damnation. Burning --
writhing naked, as depicted in all those medieval paintings -- in the flames of
hell.
Never with a woman . . . at least until one evening when Turpin came over.
.
She was naked in the Jacuzzi when he stepped out onto the deck from the
patio doors.
He tottered slightly as if drunk, and he wasn't alone.
The aged redhead from the bar was with him. A cigarette dangled from the
scarlet slash that formed her mouth. Her face was garishly made up but couldn't
hide the age lines. Her chin sagged, and her mottled neck was full of wrinkles.
Her hair had been fluffed and teased out so thinly that it was like a cloud
floating around her head. She wore a pair of red knee-high boots and a green,
low-cut mini dress with thin straps.
"What is the meaning of this?" Rebecca asked.
"Get out of the tub," Turpin replied.
"No."
"Oh yeah you will. I intend on watching tonight while you and Kitty
entertain me."
"Get out of my house or I'll call the police!"
It was an empty threat, and they knew it. She could see the glimmer of
amusement in their eyes.
"You keep forgetting something, Rebecca."
"What's that?"
"I own you."
It was a simple statement, but it hit home.
A panicky feeling rose up from her gut. A tingle of fear made her nipples
stiffen.
Turpin grinned and popped open a can of beer that he had been holding in
his hand. The diamond pinkie ring flashed in the rays of the evening sun like a
tiny star.
Both his eyes and the woman's glowed with a preternatural brightness due,
no doubt, to drugs. Neither looked like they could be reasoned with, and there
was nowhere she could run, being naked.
"I own you," Turpin repeated, a menacing tinge creeping into his voice.
"Unless, of course, you don't mind your husband finding out about all the nasty
little things you've been doing since he left."
"You forced me," Rebecca cried out.
Turpin raised his lower lip up against the upper one in a mocking taunt.
"True. "And I'm sure he'll understand why you never went to the police."
His derisive tone cut into her like a knife. And much as she hated to
admit it, she knew he was right. But how could she have gone to the police,
have it all be made public and then, as a teacher, face her students, knowing
that they would know all the lewd details? It was impossible, but no one would
understand that. They wouldn't want to. They would want to believe she asked
for it in their dirty, little minds.
Turpin had her over a barrel.
"Get out of the tub," Turpin repeated.
"Please . . ."
"Please what?"
The word would choke her, but she knew she had to say it. He expected her
to say it, had taught her to say it with his leather belt when she had first
refused.
She didn't want to have to say it in front of the woman -- a witness to her
humiliation. But --
"Please . . . master."
It had taken a week for the red strips and welts to disappear from her
breasts, thighs and ass.
She stood at attention before them, her arms down by her sides, her chin
jutted out, her back straight.
Kitty strolled around her in a leisurely fashion examining her, pinching
her, here and there as if she were a prime cut of meat or some form of live
stock about to be purchased.
She'll make a lot of money in tricks," Kitty said. "Mind if I sample the
goods?" she added with a glance at Turpin.
Turpin waved his hand as he plopped down in a lounger.
"That's why I brought you. Nothing like a les show to get the old pecker
up in the air."
Kitty pulled a floral decorated mattress off a lounger and set it on the
deck.
"Get on your back," she ordered Rebecca.
"Please, master."
"Do as she tells you." Turpin tapped his belt buckle.
Kitty waited until Rebecca was lying down, then she took a final deep drag
off her cigarette and flicked it off into the lawn. She reached around behind
her back, exhaling smoke from her nostrils, and unzipped the dress, letting it
fall to the deck. She was naked underneath. She smacked her rubbery lips
loudly as she ogled Rebecca lying defenselessly before her.
Turpin had pulled his cock out to masturbate with one hand and drink from
the can of beer with the other.
Rebecca stared up at Kitty her eyes drawn involuntarily to the older
woman's body. Her tits were huge, as big as melons; she'd probably had a lift,
for they hardly sagged. Her body was a little fleshy in places; there was a
slight paunch around her middle, but all in all she was still in pretty good
shape.
Kitty got down on her knees and pushed her legs apart.
Rebecca wasn't prepared for the feelings that raced through her body when
Kitty's tongue licked up between her labia and centered on her joystick.
It was electric. Her body stiffened, then melted as voluptuous sensations
overwhelmed her. Her cunt became instantly wet; her nipples swelled to twice
their normal size. Her heart raced and her breathing became frantic.
Moans of intense pleasure escaped from her lips as the older, more
experienced, woman tweaked her hardened nipples with her fingers while plunging
her tongue deep inside her cunt, sending tingles of unbearable excitement
swarming through her.
Despite the humiliation of being assaulted by a woman, Rebecca began
responding by raising her hips off the lounge mattress and grinding her cunt
into the woman's face. With each thrust Kitty buried her tongue deeper and
deeper into her cunt driving her wild.
Out the corner of her eye she could see Tupin wrenching his swollen cock
back and forth rapidly, his teeth clenched as the muscles in his jaws drew taut.
His usually pale, barroom face was as red as a blacksmith's furnace. Beads of
pre-cum bubbled from the pee hole and dribbled down over his knuckles.
Kitty raised up and began sucking on her swollen nipples; then moved her
thumb into her cunt-hole while, at the same time, inserting her fuck-finger in
her asshole.
It was more than Rebecca could resist; she began cumming wildly.
In a post-cum daze, she felt herself being turned over. Then the painful
thrust of something huge entered her ass.
"It's only beginning," Turpin's voice whispered in her ear. "You belong to
me."
.
The stars were out in the space above the rock ledge. Rebecca stared up at
them just from within the overhang of the cave, her wrists handcuffed to her
ankles. The taste of the three women was still in her mouth. She had been
forced to lick and suck each of them to a climax. It had taken hours.
Now they were gone. All of them except for Jeff who sat hunched over a
small campfire nearby smoking a joint.
She was still naked.
They had placed her on a foam mat when they had finished playing with her
and handcuffed her wrists to her ankles with two sets of cuffs.
The cool night air breezed over her naked body causing her nipples to
tighten. She shivered slightly; her throat was parched; thirst overwhelmed her.
"Could I have a drink of water?" she pleaded, her voice hoarse.
Jeff turned his face to stare at her. Her jailer. She his prisoner with
no rights. His face was expressionless. He drew deeply on the joint, then
after a long pause, expelled the smoke.
"Kaitlynn said not to give you anything."
"But I'm really thirsty, Jeff," she said, playing up to him. "What harm
can it do, really?"
"It's part of the game," he muttered, not looking at her, almost, she
sensed, as if he were ashamed.
'Game?'
She had to win his sympathy. She was a human being -- not an object.
Didn't he realize that? You don't play with people. My God, what kind of
children were these? How had they been raised that they could do this to
another human being without any apparent concern? Did they not realize how much
she was suffering?
"Listen, Jeff, I know you're not like the others. I can sense it. These
metal cuffs are cutting into my flesh. Why not take them off. I won't try
anything. And besides you're much stronger than I am, so what harm could it do?
I would be grateful," she added, trying to sound sexy through the hoarseness.
"Not . . . supposed to," he answered, shaking his head, but the tone of his
voice was less strident.
"If you uncuff me -- just for a little while -- I'll do anything you want.
No one will have to know."
Eyes glowing from the grass, he stared at her firm naked flesh as if coming
to a decision.
"Maybe . . . maybe just for a little while," he said after a moment.
He stretched out a leg and withdrew from his pocket a metal ring with
several keys attached.
He stood slowly and unbuttoned his shorts. Naked he knelt down beside her
and unlocked the dual cuffs.
Her wrists and ankles burned from where they had dug into the flesh, but
the relief that came from being able to stretch out her limbs more than
compensated for the pain.
The moist tip of his cock grazed across her belly as he palmed her tits and
squeezed them.
"We could go up to my house, Jeff. I could clean up and make myself all
nice for you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
As she stalled for time she looked around for a weapon: a rock, a stick, a
broken piece of glass, anything at all. There was a jagged palm-sized stone,
but it was slightly out of reach.
His fingers punched at her nipples, forcing them to become swollen and
hard.
"This is good," he murmured, nuzzling into her neck and leaving a wet trail
with his tongue. "Spread your legs."
His cock was big, and it sheared into her like a huge rat-tail file. He
humped her rapidly, and, despite the pain it caused, she thrust her hips toward
him rotating them seductively; she greeted his wild kisses with her own, their
tongues entwining like snakes.
She felt a wet slickness in her cunt and realized he was already cumming in
her. His thrust became more rapid, fierce.
She gripped his asscheeks and pulled him fully into her, sinking his cock
as deeply as possible, until his tight scrotum was pressed against her labia.
As he collapsed on top of her, she ran her fingers through his hair,
exclaiming with ragged breath how good it was.
"Jeff, you're such a great lover. Oh, baby, I can't begin to tell you how
good it was."
He raised his head and there was a stupid grin on his face.
"Yeah, I am pretty good ain't I?"
"Better than all right, baby; you're every woman's dream." She felt vomit
rise in her throat, but she suppressed it.
"I've got a great idea," she went on. "Why don't you let me go. We'll
forget what happened here today. Hey, it's over and done as far as I'm
concerned. Then tomorrow you can come by and we'll make love all evening.
It'll be fantastic."
Jeff had risen up off her and was reaching for the handcuffs. He wasn't
buying her little act -- perhaps never had. It was now or never. She rolled to
her side and grabbed the jagged stone and, in one motion, slammed it against his
temple.
As he crumpled to the ground she jumped to her feet, staggered dizzily for
a moment, then lurched forward out of the mouth of the cave into the night.
*
Mary McGuire had just finished putting the icing on a German chocolate cake
when she glanced out her kitchen window and saw a naked woman running across her
backyard and scrabble through a row of her privet hedge.
* * *
Deputy Sheriff Matt Vernon was staring at a pair of queens and jacks with
forty bucks in the pot. He scratched his nuts, then took out the stub of a
cigar from his mouth blowing out a cheap fume of bluish-gray smoke.
He glanced at Howie Mercer, another deputy, across the table from him
wearing his usual moronic grin. To his right Ben Gleason, a public defender,
was tapping the fingers of his left hand impatiently. To his left Debra
Hoffman, night dispatcher, had cast her cards down and was lighting a cigarette
from a half empty pack.
He didn't have to worry about her and Mercer was a shit player, Gleason
was another matter. He was pretty good. And he was tapping his fingers -- a
dead-fuckin'-give-away --which meant he was eager to get on with the betting.
Vernon didn't figure he had a flush or straight, maybe a trey, but he
didn't think so. The son of a bitch was eager though. He stuck the stub back
in his mouth gripping it between his teeth. Nothing to do but plow ahead. He
tossed in two bucks to stay in, then glanced at Howie.
About that time the phone rang and Debra scooted in her wheeled swivel
chair over the linoleum floor to the dispatcher's desk.
Howie scratched his head, then with a shrug folded. Now it was all up to
Gleason.
Debra finished the call and came scooting back to them, the wheels of the
chair making a faint sticky sound on the waxed floor.
She was grinning.
"Got a streaker up on Duncan Heights. Woman named Mary McGuire says she
saw a nude woman hauling ass through her backyard just now."
"Was she good looking?" Howie asked, grinning.
Debra gave him a cocked eyebrow.
"Probably an aviator," Gleason said, using the slang term for someone
'flying' on model airplane glue.
"Been gettin' a lot of that lately," Vernon added. Makes'em crazy."
"I'll check it out," Howie said rising up. "I'm out anyway." He nodded at
his folded cards.
"Shouldn't it be aviatrix?" Debra said, grinning, as Howie grabbed his
wide-brimmed hat and walked out.
* * *
Rebecca pounded on another door. Why wouldn't anybody answer the damn
things? A few cars had passed her as she tried to wave them down, but no one
stopped. Instead they speeded up.
She was disoriented in the dark. The neighborhood was new and strange.
She didn't recognize any of the streets. There were sodium vapor lights on the
corners, and porch lights, the few that were on, seemed to offer little hope.
Through curtained windows she could see the gray glow of TVs.
But no one opened their doors!
They were home. Their cars were in their driveways. But --
She stood back from the door and saw a face quickly disappear behind a
flick of window curtain.
It was if she had stepped into some nether Alice in Horrorland world.
Rapid barefoot steps sounded on the street pavement. Around a corner Jeff
came running her way. A frantic whine strangled in her throat as she took off
through well-kept lawns still wet from sprinklers that had spun through the
long, hot day and were now like so many still antlers sticking up from the
grass.
A woman had come out on her porch for a moment; Rebecca headed toward her
screaming. The woman had a horrified look on her face and quickly turned and
hurried back inside slamming the door behind her.
Rebecca fell against it screaming and clawing. She heard a wet stride
cross the grass and a huff of muffled words as a hand grabbed her by the hair
and dragged her backwards.
As he pulled and pushed her back through the empty streets she could see
lights going off in houses along the way as if the residents were linked
telepathically, and she knew they were being watched from the darkened windows.
Howie Mercer passed by a few minutes later, but by then there was only
orange-lit empty streets.
* * *
Seventy years later, Mr. Hopper, as he was known at the Sunny Dale Nursing
Home, sat at his usual spot on a gray wooden bench enjoying the sweet smell of
fresh spring grass, budding trees and a panorama of white fluffy clouds ranging
overhead in a turquoise sky.
A pretty young aide had just brought him his shawl, for there was a slight
chill in the air. She was good to him, always doing little considerate things
for him. Today she had slipped him a banana. He munched on it while watching a
squirrel frolic on the branches of a red oak. Later he would go back to his
room and watch TV. Not that he much cared for the crap that passed for
entertainment these days. The kind of programming he liked they didn't show on
TV. Never had, in fact.
With feelings of nostalgia he thought about his private collection of
pictures, tapes, CDs, and chips that he had acquired through scores of years.
All gone now. All gone . . . mostly.
Soon he would be gone too, but he didn't really care. There wasn't much
left to live for. There was food -- he still enjoyed a good meal -- and an
occasional hard-on, but . . . not really much more.
He fixed his glasses on his nose and watched the pretty young aide walk
back toward the steps of the west wing. She was blonde with a sexy sway of hip.
Couldn't be more than nineteen or twenty.
She reminded him of another pretty woman years ago when he belonged to The
Pack. He would never forget her and what they did to her. He felt his tired
old cock stiffen at the memory.
They were all dead now. He was the only one left. Just as well. You can
only enjoy life while in the fever-pitch of youth. Once that's gone there are
only memories which are no substitute for the real thing.
But what memories!
Wouldn't the doctors and nurses be shocked to learn what went on inside his
old head. Ha! Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe we all have our little secrets. Our
little transgressions from the supposed norm.
Aren't we all just actors, when you get right down to it, playing a series
of roles in public and quite a few opposite ones in private. Multiple Jekylls
and Hydes?
They had all come down to the cave the next day after abducting the
teacher, not knowing what Kaitlynn had planned but sensing something exciting
was in the offing.
Jeff had staked the teacher out on the ground spread-eagled. Kaitlynn
gathered them around and finally told them what we were going to do with her.
And Doug was to film it.
Peter was literally foaming at the mouth as he shuffled from one foot to
the other in anticipation. Jeff stood back, kinda aloof from it all. The girls
were giggling and eager to begin.
Jeff made a fire and Kaitlynn produced a poker from her daddy's fireplace in
his study.
They didn't gag the teacher. Kaitlynn wanted to hear her screams. They
all did.
When the poker was ready she gave it to Peter.
The boy placed the red hot end against their victim's breast and shoved it
in. Her screams were electrifying.
When he pulled it out a black charred clump of flesh fell off the end.
The poker was placed back into the fire, then, after a minute or so, Gail
pushed it into the bottom of the teacher's foot until it came out the top.
The punishment stopped for a while as the guys fucked her, then continued.
Jeff shoved the poker in her other breast.
The torture went on for several hours until there was little response from
their victim.
Then Kaitlynn took a length of rope tied to a stick and twisted it around
her neck until she stopped gagging for breath.
They dumped the body in the river.
* * *
Old man Hopper got up from the bench and headed toward his room in the west
wing. His cock was harder than it had been for months.
The aide was there, going through his shit. She had obviously intended to
make his bed, but something had distracted her.
He cursed under his breath. With old age he had become careless,
forgetful. He had saved a few photos of The Pack torturing the teacher. He
couldn't bear to part with them. They were luscious. He had been looking at
them before going outside. But he had absentmindedly forgotten to replace them
in the false bottom of his shaving kit.
And so now this hot, little cutie was viewing his secret past.
He wondered briefly if the pictures turned her on or horrified her.
The answer was on her face when she heard him enter and turned to face him.
Too bad. She obviously wasn't into it.
So maybe the time had come to turn out the lights.
He stared at the pretty, oval face with the wide blue eyes; the full, pink
lips; the firm breasts; the narrow waist; the rounded hips; the shapely legs.
No true pervert could resist -- not even an old one, especially not an old
one.
The impulse was too strong; he couldn't fight it. He didn't want to.
He grabbed her and clamped a hand over her mouth.
She was small, her body nice and firm. She struggled, but he was stronger;
her writhing body made him hotter. He dragged her into the bathroom and forced
her into the shower stall.
He held her in a choke hold until she fainted, then eased her down to the
tile floor. His hands trembled with excitement as he untied her shoes. The
feet were dainty, well-shaped, the toenails like little red jewels.
He lifted the feet to where his cock swelled against his pants and pressed
them against it. He could feel the warmth of them through the cloth. His head
spun dizzily; his breath was so sharp and shallow that his chest hurt.
He was going to fuck her. He knew it. There was no feeling -- no drug --
like it: total freedom to do as one wills. To cast off all the chains of a
phony morality. To do what one's nature intended.
He turned her limp body and unzipped her white aide's uniform and pulled
the panties and bra off.
He stared at her perfect little body, slumped back into the corner of the
wall in a sitting position, her head tilted over a shoulder. The tits were
full; he hefted them, thumbing the pink nipples.
He moved her thighs apart. The cunt was clean shaven. There was a tight
look to it that made his cock tingle with anticipation.
He stripped quickly. His stocky cock flared up against his full belly, the
foreskin skimmed back, the pee hole dribbling.
Her inviting lips parted slightly, and she murmured something as he pulled
her hips up to ram his cock in her.
It had been a long time since he had fucked a woman; scores of years since
he had fuck a young hottie. His old cock moved in her with reckless abandon.
She was tight, unused.
She wasn't dry.
Her blue eyes opened, but she made no attempt to fight him. It was too
late for that. He was in her. She made a protesting moan, clenched her teeth
and turned her face away.
After he came in her he took his pocket knife from his pants and cut her
throat. As her warm blood gushed over them he fucked her again, then placed the
blade against his throat and took the only ending life has to offer.
fini
