Chapter 10
Don stopped midway up the walk that led to the entrance of the Benton High School. He looked around. Then turned again when he heard his name called from a distance horizontal to him. And then his heart leaped to his throat and jammed there when he saw that it was bright, bubbling, very sexual, Lisa Dewey who had hailed him. She came bounding toward him across the school lawn like an uninhibited puppy dog racing to meet his master.
Don's body tensed. His mind flashed a memory of himself and Lisa fucking in the front seat of his car. He tried to blot it out. He could not. He felt miserable.
"Wheeeee," exclaimed Lisa, pulling to a halt in front of him. "I was afraid I would miss you."
"Hello-Lisa," Don said.
"Hi, yourself, and welcome to Benton, Prof." She lowered her eyelashes demurely, then added, "I-I couldn't wait until you got here."
"Oh, Umph. Well, it's good to see you, too, Lisa."
She glanced around, then said, "What's the matter? You sound so-so kind of formal and everything. Aren't you glad to see me?"
"I said I was," he replied, his voice suddenly becoming crisp.
"When can I be with you-alone?" she asked.
"My schedule's very full, very full, indeed. But I might work you into my interviews this afternoon if you care to stop by the office."
"Hey, what the hell is this anyway?" she said, drawing back a bit. "You're acting like a regular square professor. Have you forgotten how things were between us before you started this jazz? Have you forgotten already-the way you-."
"Lisa, I have to be getting along," Don said. "Shall I look forward to seeing you this afternoon?"
"No, you sure as hell cannot look forward to it," she exploded, her voice going high. "And what about my application for Blair? Have you approved it? And there's another little matter I want you to look into, Prof. Take a good look at Dan Mark's application because, baby, I want him at Blair with me."
"Really, Lisa-."
"Really, yourself, jazzbo. And, yes, I will be at your office this afternoon. I want to see your approval on those little white sheets."
She spun around on her heel and hustled her body away from him. Don watched the sassy bounce of her hips, the flashing bare legs and the loose, free-swing breasts. He remembered all of it. Very well. Too well. He wished now that he was absent of this tormenting memory of her young body thrashing to his.
Slowly, feeling very tired, Don continued up the path to the school entrance. He wished that he could shake the tiredness that seemed a constant part of him now, that had been with him from the very moment that he realized what he was doing, what he had done when he had almost compromised the last of his principles for the body of Lio. That had been the last time for him. It would be the last time it would ever happen he had vowed. The memory of the quick change that had come over Lio had haunted him. It was impossible to shake it. And in a way, the girl, Lio, represented all of the evil he had dallied in since beginning the interviewing tour. Now, Don wanted it over with and forgotten. He wanted the tour finished and wanted to know once again the comfort and security of his academic life at Blair State.
Don entered the school building, then turned right and moved down the corridor to the small office at the end of it that he was to use.
He opened the door, stepped inside, then recoiled with shock when he saw Cass sitting on a small leather couch at the side of the room.
"Oh," he said. "I wasn't prepared for a guest."
"I'm hardly that," she said, smiling slightly, but without enthusiasm.
Don walked over to the desk, then turned to Cass, and said, "What can I do for you?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," she answered.
"Well, that's direct and not very flattering."
"No, it isn't," she laughed. "But I didn't mean it that way. I stopped to see you because I felt like a little conversation. We really haven't seen much of each other during this tour-not nearly as much as I had planned."
"That's true," he said. He felt a certain regret tug at his heart, reminding him that it could have been different, that he and Cass Bigelow could have enjoyed the companionship that was their right-could have, had he not become so infatuated with the youthful bodies of high school girls.
"You look tired, Don," Cass said, leaning forward in a manner that revealed the soft, comforting contours of her breasts against the thin white blouse she wore.
"I am," he sighed. "I'm very, very tired."
"I am, too" she said. "And it's odd. We shouldn't be"
"No, we shouldn't."
"Are you glad this is nearly over, Don?"
"Very glad."
"I'm glad, too," she said.
"Are you really?" he said, surprised. "I wouldn't have thought you'd ever want the tour to end."
"But I do. Frankly, I can't wait for the peace and quiet of Blair. I've missed that darn place. It's-well, like home-more home than I've ever known."
"Yes, that's the way I've always felt about Blair, too," he said, his voice sincere, showing, too, a kind of respect for her evaluation of the college he loved.
"Maybe faculty living is a coward's way to face life," Cass said. "But I like it. I think it's just about everything I ever want."
Don felt a warmness toward Cass that he had never yet known, not even when they were involved in the deviate love of whips.
Cass pushed up from the couch, then she said, "Well, I better get to my office. There's a parade of kids waiting."
"Yes, I suppose you should," Don said, rather sadly.
They smiled at each other, then Cass turned and left the office. For a long time Don looked at the door through which she had disappeared, then he sighed and seated himself behind the desk.
For a half hour Don read the Blair applications that awaited his attention. Then he pushed the buzzer on his desk to signal the presence of the first interviewee.
Don interviewed students without a break until late in the afternoon. And then he saw one more. Lisa undulated into the office.
"Hi," she said brightly, looking bright, too, in a tight sweater that clung to her body as if it were embracing her in love. Her breasts bulged frantically. Her nipples were large and sharp pointed. And the skirt that she wore was tight, too. It hugged her hips and buttocks so that every line of her was clearly revealed.
"Sit down, Lisa," Don said sternly.
She seated herself in the straight chair next to his desk.
"I've rejected your application for Blair," Don said quickly.
Her eyes blazed. Her breasts lifted. Her mouth parted. And then she exclaimed. "You must be joking-I thought we had all this settled."
"I'm not joking. And no, it wasn't all settled."
"I could ruin you," she said, leaning close to him.
"I know."
"And you don't care?"
"I care, but not as much as I would if I approved this application of yours. And I've turned down your friend's application too. Dan Marks."
Lisa leaped to her feet, "You bastard. You rotten bastard. You play a con game to get into my pants then you don't keep up your end of the bargain. You rotten bastard."
"That's not quite the way it happened, Lisa," he reminded her. "But, you'll never think differently, so let it go at that. But you're not going to Blair. Neither is the football captain.
Sorry. Try another school. One that's not as fussy as we are."
Lisa leaned forward and raised a clenched fist as if she were going to strike him. But she did not. She dropped her hand. Then a slow, wicked smile spread over her pretty face.
"Better change your mind, Prof," she said. "You'll be sorry if you don't."
"I'll be sorry if I do," he told her.
Her body stiffened. Her fists clenched again. Then she whirled around and dashed out of the office.
Don watched her disappear. He felt the slight breeze she had created. It was hot. He tried to determine if it was heat produced from sexuality, or from blazing vengeance and hate. He could not tell. And, he didn't care.
Don remained in the office until it was dark. He worked hard over applications, bringing together the odds and ends of the trip he and Cass had nearly completed. Except for his own indiscretions, it had been a successful trip, he decided. Most of the students who would be attending Blair in the fall were those of whom the college could be proud. And those who didn't belong at Blair, well, they would soon become dissatisfied and withdraw.
After he had stuffed the last of his papers into his briefcase, Don snapped it shut, hoisted it to the crook of his arm, then turned and walked out of the office.
At the school exit which bordered the parking lot, Don paused. Then he headed in the direction of the rented car that he and Cass were to use for their trip home to Blair. But now, all he wanted was to return to the motel on the outskirts of town, there to rest, there to ready himself for his return to academic duties.
Don got in the car. He started the engine, put it in gear, then bumped over the gravel lot until he reached the road. Then he turned right and headed directly for the motel.
When he reached the motel, set far back from the main road and made up of a series of individual cabins, Don slowed the car and brought it around the deep, circular drive. Then he halted it in front of his cabin which was set at the end, a considerable distance from the others. He glanced at Cass's cabin. It was dark. He felt a little sorrow that it was. They could have had dinner together, he thought. But, undoubtedly, she was already so involved.
He got out of the car slowly. He dragged his briefcase out after him, then slammed the car door shut. Then he went to his cabin's entrance. He fumbled for the key, found it in his jacket pocket, put it to its lock, then twisted as he pushed the door inward.
He stepped into darkness. He closed the door behind him and placed his briefcase on the floor. Then he reached for the light switch, found it, flicked it on, turned and felt an entire stammer of his body when he saw the fearsome scene that awaited him.
"Hi, Prof," Lisa said from across the room.
"Yeah, Hi," joined her friends; two large boys and another girl.
Don looked at them, but did not speak. Not until he looked at the side of the room and saw Cass, minus clothing except for a towel that was used as a mouth gag. She was bound to a straight backed chair.
"What the-," Don exclaimed. "Cass-are you all right?" He moved to go to her side but the tallest boy held up his hand to detain him. Don slowed, then stopped.
"That's right, Prof, hold it right there if you don't want to get hurt," said the boy.
"Aw, go on, let him get hurt, Dan," Lisa laughed. "Let him get hurt real good."
"Yeah," agreed the other girl. "We haven't had any real kicks lately."
Don looked at each of them, then at Cass again. Her eyes were very round, as if bloated with fear, and she looked very odd with two-thirds of the towel projecting from her mouth. For a moment, it looked as if Don was about to dash to her again, but Cass shook her head, signaling caution and care.
He looked at the teenagers again, then said, "All right, let's have it. Why are you here?"
"Listen to him," Dan Marks laughed. "Acting as if he doesn't know why we paid our little call."
"Yeah, old Mr. Innocent himself," Lisa joined in.
"Come on, let's get cuttin' with him," the other boy said anxiously.
"Take it easy, there's plenty of time," the other girl told him.
"All right, state your business, release Miss Bigelow and get out," Don tried again. His body quivered. He boiled with indignation, with fury for himself, too, that his first contact-his lust and indiscretion-with Lisa had caused this evil gathering.
"Man, how he does go on," Lisa said slowly.
"There's the police, you know," Don reminded them. "This will become a police matter if you don't leave this instant."
"Yeah, the fuzz," Dan Marks said. "But you're not going to be going to them. Not unless you want them to hear Lisa's little story about statutory rape, indecent liberties with a minor, with-."
"Shut up," Don blurted.
Instinctively, he turned and looked at Cass. Her eyes had changed their expression. The fear was gone. It was replaced with shock as she looked at him, then turned her head, looked at Lisa, and finally looked at Don once more.
He turned away from her accusing eyes.
"You see," Lisa said, coming close to Don. "We planned this little committee meeting for you to show you how much we appreciate being turned down for Blair. We kind of want to show you what your rejection means to us."
"Yeah, how we react, you might say," Dan Marks growled.
"Come on, let's cut the goddamn gab," the other boy mumbled.
Lisa turned toward him. She smiled. "Did you say cut?"
"You know I did," he answered.
"Now that's really a stupendous idea," Lisa said. "Really terrific."
The boy looked confused.
Dan Marks stepped closer to Lisa. His expression was one of intense curiosity. He looked not at all confused and he said, "Hey, I get you. The teacher-broad, eh?"
"For a start," Lisa replied crisply.
Quickly, Marks stepped to Don's side as the other boy pushed forward and moved to the other side. When Don made a lunge forward, ready to fight, to snatch Cass from the hands of evil, the one boy gripped him by the arms and pinned them to his back. Don struggled a moment, then quieted, knowing that resistance was futile, that it could only cause greater trouble for Cass.
Dan Marks stepped in front of Don. He reached to the hip pocket of his jeans and produced a pocket knife. Then he flipped a catch and the long, sharp blade sprang open and gleamed. He approached Cass.
Marks glanced at Lisa, then said, "Let me have the pleasure, okay?"
"Okay," Lisa said, "But hurry-I'm getting a little impatient myself.
Marks approached Cass. He looked at all of her body, at the way most of it was exposed because of the small bindings that held her arms at the back of the chair and pinched her ankles together in front. Cass was breathing deeply, crushing her large breasts out, then back, then outward again. Marks looked at the breasts and grinned. Then he moved closer. He bent a bit. Then he straightened and looked at the others.
"What the hell," he said. "She might dull the steel."
He flourished the knife in front of her, then lowered that hand as he bent in front of her. Then, with a savage growl, he clamped his mouth to her right breast and closed upon it.
Cass cried a muffled call, one of hurt and fear. And Don tried to lunge to her rescue once more, but was again restrained by the tall boy's hold upon his arms.
Lisa and the other girl laughed and shouted remarks, all ribald, as Marks began to shake his head from side to side, moving her breast as he thrashed, harder, more hurtfully. Soon, Cass moaned another loud, muffled call, and it seemed a signal for blood to ooze from her breast and streak down her bare belly until it became lost as her thighs.
And then Dan Marks released his grip upon her tit and straightened.
"Man, you're a regular vampire," Lisa exclaimed.
"Yeah," Marks replied. He seemed very quiet, as if had been enraged by some new desire for Cass's body. He looked at her. Then he turned and looked at the others.
"What's the matter, aren't you going to do any cutting?" the boy holding Don asked.
"I got another idea," Marks answered. He turned and stared at Cass again.
The white of one breast and her flat belly, and even her firm thighs, were streaked with odd-sized lines of blood. She was lined like a crazy road map. But she seemed less hurt than indignant, less pained than angry.
Marks walked closer and stared down into her face. Defiantly, Cass glared at him, arched her head back so that she could cast her hate directly into his eyes. And that sudden arch of her throat caused a reaction in Marks. His body suddenly trembled, then he turned to Lisa.
"Take the gag out of her mouth," he ordered.
"Hey, are you crazy!"
"Take it out," he said again.
"But she'll yell."
"No she won't," Marks said, Not for long, anyway."
Lisa cocked her head to one side. Her eyes, widened in curiosity. Then she moved toward Cass. But when she started to tug at the rough towel loosening it from her mouth, Marks stopped her.
"Never mind," he said. "I'll do it."
Lisa looked at him, then stepped back.
Dan Marks hovered over Cass a moment. Then he brought one hand to the towel. He waited a second then gave a mighty jerk upon the towel, dragging it hurtfully from her mouth and throat.
"Uhhhhhh," she suddenly breathed. Her tone was low and dry sounding.
Marks waited. Her head slumped forward. Then it raised. For a moment she looked at Don and it was as if she was conveying a message to him, telling him to wait, that it would soon be over, that they would be free, telling him, it seemed, that she, and perhaps he, must suffer for a little while before it could all be behind them, before they could resume a life that was absent of evil and corruption.
Marks wadded the towel into his hand, made a rough, hard ball of it. Then he paused and looked around as if undecided as to exactly what his next move was.
He glanced at Lisa, let his eyes travel over all her body. Then he glanced at the naked Cass, then the other girl, then back to Cass. Then his body relaxed a bit. Quickly, he raised one hand and unclasped the buttons of his shirt. Still holding the towel with the other hand, he removed his shirt, exposing the hard muscled lines of his football-body.
"Hey, you gone crazy or something?" Lisa asked.
"Yeah," he breathed, still staring at Cass. "Crazy. Real, real crazy." He paused as he kicked off his loafers and pulled his socks from his feet. Then, as he loosened his belt and squirmed from his trousers and shorts, he said to Lisa, "You and Marge get out of your duds, too."
"Now you're talking" Lisa exclaimed.
"Quickly, she pulled her sweater over her head. She was bare beneath it. Her breasts heaved forward like crashing hills. And her nipples were the stalwart signal towers upon those hills. Then she wiggled her hips and disbanded skirt, half-slip, and finally her shoes. Marge, the other girl, a similar rendition of Lisa in dress and physical attributes, did the same-undressed gleefully and without inhibition.
Don watched the teenaged girls as they scurried to nudity. He looked at their breasts, full and round and very firm, at their nipples which blazed deep pink, were long and hard. And he looked at their small waists and flaring hips, at their legs, shapely and vibrant. He looked at them. At all of their bodies. Then he looked at Cass, nude, a prisoner, awaiting some horror from the naked boy, and he knew that his own body was drained of lust for the young, that he was without ability for them any more. And he was glad. It was the way it should be. Then Don looked again at Cass and felt deep sorrow for the waste he had committed, for the time and contrivance he had given to the very young while a woman had waited for him-a woman who now, he feared, would have nothing but loathing for him.
Lisa and her friend, Marge, wiggled nudely to Marks' side where he stood in front of Cass.
"Okay, Dan, what have you got planned?" Lisa asked.
His eyes went vacant, "I don't know."
"You don't know!" the other girl complained.
"No, I don't know." His voice was as if it originated from a distance far away.
"Man, you're flipping," Lisa said.
"Maybe," he answered, his voice still distant and uncertain.
The girls grew quiet. It was as if they sensed some determination by Marks, some event that might shock and thrill and change their lives.
His body rippled. The muscles glistened with perspiration. Then he raised his hand with the bunched towel in it, and he seemed to quiet for a moment. He raised the towel above Cass's face, then he quickly lowered it, seeking to jam it within her mouth, return it to where it had rested as a gag. But he could not. Cass kept her teeth tightly clamped. Marks exclaimed a grunt of anger, then brought his other hand to her collar bone. He gripped her there, pressuring his thumb tightly into the hollow.
Her eyes bulged with pain. She moved her head from side to side as if the motion might lessen the hurt that had come to her. And finally, as Marks continued to pressure his strength against her, she cried out, unable to keep from opening her mouth.
Marks jammed the rough towel into her mouth. Then he jammed harder as Cass writhed in the chair, as Marks pressured harder at the hollow of her collar bone. He hovered over her like an angry cloud. He worked furiously, jamming the towel deeper and deeper into her throat as the naked girls watched him, intrigued by his effort, by the way he reacted.
Again, Don fought against his captor's hold upon him, but he could not free himself. But the boy who gripped Don's arms seemed less intent upon keeping him prisoner than he did the frantic action taking place before his eyes. He breathed heavily, as if in awe of the scene he witnessed. And the girls standing at Dan's side, seemed awed too by the strange compulsion which had taken their comrade.
When Cass's eyes looked as if they would pop from her head, when she gurgled the muffled sounds of strangulation, Marks whipped the towel out of her mouth, allowed her a fierce, dry sob, then jammed it to her again. And then he repeated the action again and again, each time showing the response within himself.
Lisa, glancing at him, whispered, "My God."
Marge looked and gulped a muffled sound of astonishment.
But Marks was oblivious to them all, without knowledge of them, at least until he knew Cass's rejection.
"Hold me," he suddenly mumbled to Cass as he continued to jam the towel deep into her throat, withdraw it, then jam it again.
When Cass made no move to do his bidding, he cried out again, "Hold me, goddamn it. Hold me! Take me! Twist me, do something to me for crissakes!"
Cass merely closed her eyes, made no move to tear her hands from her bindings.
"Lisa," Marks shouted. "Lisa-for crissakes, untie her-let her hand loose-quick-now, for crissakes, now."
Lisa, as if suddenly frightened, made no comment. But she hurried to the back of the chair and after a few moment's fumbling, freed one of Cass's hands. Cass brought it forward at the same time forcing her hand to him.
"Take me, goddamn it," he ordered
"He released her hand. And Cass allowed it to fall back into her lap, rejecting him even as she was forced to know a new, hurtful descent of the towel into her throat.
Marks' body rumbled and trembled like an earthquake ready to break open all the earth. He jammed harder at her throat, stuffing the towel ever deeper, yanking it clear in a greater, more painful withdrawal.
But at last he knew that this was not enough. That he could do nothing but increase his excitement by the continued gagging of his beautiful subject. And there had to be some end, some contact that would make an end.
"Lisa! Marge!" he called out as he jammed the towel deep another time. "Take me. Hold me. Grab me, for crissakes grab me-both of you-right now or I'm going to die."
The girls looked at each other. Then they moved closer.
For a moment, both Lisa and Marge stood at each side of Marks as he continued to violate Cass with the towel. Then Lisa took the initiative. She reached with her right hand and grasped him, stroking his giant cock. And Marge moved closer, then waited as Lisa began a furious manipulation, a twisting and turning and yanking and jerking that matched in every way the desires his shuddering body lurched to attain. In a moment, Marge, too, reached and made her grasp. Her hand gripped lower than Lisa's, moved with as much speed but in a different rhythm, one of squeezing and crunching, then releasing.
Marks threw the towel into the air. Cass's head slumped forward. The girl's hands worked incessantly and Dan Marks arched deeply to their giving. And then it was over. The girl's flying hands, the deep arch of his body, the deep stretch he made of himself. It was over. Everything.
Don lowered his head, trying not to witness this strange, sick finale of perverted lust, of a perverted lust that even those children who plied it did not truly understand. Nor would they, thought Don, not until their lives had corrupted to some final, awful end.
Silence prevailed throughout the room. It was a sick silence, as if everyone had stood a death watch and knew not how to explain it. Soon, the silence was filled with Cass's exerted breathing, its harshness, and then at last, its even rhythm.
Marks finally raised from his slouched, exhausted position. He looked around as if awakening from an evil dream. Then embarrassment flushed and streaked his face. He avoided everyone's eyes. He picked up his clothes, turned his back to all and dressed.
Wordlessly, Lisa picked up her clothes and began to do the same. Marge followed her example. And at last, the boy who held Don's arms pinned behind him, released his hold. No one moved. Everyone waited. It was silent again for a long, long time.
Finally, it was Lisa who spoke. Her tone was different, held both shock and shame.
"We'd better get out of here," was all she said.
It was enough. The others made no reply but slowly filed out of the room. When the door closed behind them, Don leaped forward to the chair that held Cass. His heart ached. His mind felt sick. And his fingers fumbled at her bindings.