Chapter 8

THE OTHER THING THAT HAPPENED WHILE I WAS still at home with Sis and Frank — what interested Dr. Wellington the most, I think, was when the gang got me.

It was when Pete cried.

We'd driven out in the country, I was going on eighteen then, and we stopped at a roadhouse and had some drinks. I'm big for my age, very well developed as a woman, and so we didn't have any trouble getting served. We weren't drunk though.

That was where this gang of guys were, and it started when one of them made a remark about my boobs. I didn't think anything about it, but it made Pete mad.

Nothing happened there, though. But later, on the road back when we were driving through the forest preserve this car that had been following us cut in and forced Pete off the road.

All six of those guys were in it, and some of them were drunk.

The leader was a big blond football type, and even though I was scared he made me a little excited when he opened the door and looked in.

He grinned and yelled, "Hey, fellows, it's the brunette job with the little jerk from the bar back there."

Pete is a little small, and what the guy said enraged him. He swung past me with his fist and hit blondy in the mouth. He snarled and reached over, pulled Pete right across me and out of the car.

Pete tried to fight back, but the others were there by that time and two of them held Pete while the blond guy hit him in the stomach.

He hit him so hard my own belly tightened up, and I almost grunted from the impact. Pete doubled forward his mouth flew open and he gagged.

Another of the guys said, "Let's get the cars back in the woods. The cops may come along."

Pete had lost interest and wasn't fighting at the moment, and the two who held him dragged him along. The blond guy came around and got behind the wheel, grinning at me.

"Baby" he said, "why don't you get yourself a real boy friend."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" I snapped.

He said, "Take it easy, chick. Everything will work out all right."

They took the cars back on an old trail with lots of trees around, and they all got out. They were wild, reckless and crazy, and just before the blond guy got out of the car I tried to do something that would help both Pete and me. I played up to the guy because he seemed to be the leader.

I reached over and touched him, my fingers on his slacks very bold, and said, "You're a real man. Maybe we could get together."

The reason I did it was that I thought he'd protect me from the others, and then I could talk him into leaving Pete alone.

He sat there grinning and let me keep on doing what I was doing. But it didn't work out the way I'd hoped it would. Several of the other guys poked their heads into the car and saw what I was doing and one of them whooped and said, "Man! The broad must be drunk!"

I jerked my hand away, but they'd all seen it and they opened the door. That was when it went wrong. The blonde guy didn't protect me at all. He pulled his zipper back up and said, "It looks like we got a real one here, men."

Then another said, "How do we divide her up?"

The blond guy answered, "That's easy. We all take a turn."

I was plenty scared, but I didn't think they'd kill me or anything like that, so I guess I was kind of excited, too.

One of them had grabbed at my sweater and he yelled, "Look, men, no bra!"

But by that time I was staggering around try-nig to get my sweater down from where the guy had pulled it — up over my head so that it was only on my arms and above my neck, and I couldn't see a thing.

I could feel them though. A dozen hands must have been playing with my boobs while I was trying to get the sweater off my face. I knew they weren't going to let me pull it down, but I had to see so I was pulling it off over my head.

They let me do this, one of them yelling, "Oh, man! Big preview. There they are!"

I hadn't worn a bra, so where could my boobs be but out in plain sight?

That wasn't the worst of it, though, because while I was struggling with my sweater, one of them pulled the zipper on my skirt and it fell around my ankles.

I took a step and went to my hands and knees. But I came up fast when one of them bent down and helped me from behind.

"You lousy fairy!" I yelled.

They laughed.

"She's got spirit," the blond guy said with admiration in his voice.

Well, what did they think? That I was just going to stand there and take it without a whimper?

They didn't give me any peace, though. When I bent down to grab my skirt, two quick hands snatched at my panties and they were down too; and there I was.

I hadn't worn any stockings, so I hadn't needed a garter belt. That made the panties all that was left and when they were gone, there was nothing.

Then one of them let out a yell. "Hey, men! There's a blanket in their car. Let's have an initiation!"

Then they brought the blanket and spread it out and made me get down on my hands and knees in the middle of it.

As I waited there, naked, I remembered some of the animal pictures in my book. Most of them were that way, and I had visions of their next move, maybe picking the guy they were going to watch.

But then they grabbed the edge of the blanket all around, and I was flying up in the air, spinning and turning in the light from the headlamps of both cars, my arms and legs flying all naked and wide open most of the time while they threw me up and down in the blanket.

Pete interrupted this. He'd been on his knees at one side, gagging from the punch in the belly, and now he staggered forward, yelling, "You punks! Leave her alone!"

They stopped throwing me up in the blanket and hit Pete again, and he was back where he'd started, on his knees being sick.

Then one of them brought a bottle from the car. He said, "We ought to be hospitable and give our guest a drink."

Then two of them held me, naked like that, while one of them forced the bottle between my teeth and made me drink.

It was a real blockbuster kiss this time. When I refused to drink one of them grabbed one of my boobs, and I gulped the booze down.

I got drunk real quick and staggered so I could hardly stand up.

The blonde leader took over now and said, "Look, men, how about a little organization here? Who wants to be first?"

The first one was a thin, pale kid with a shock of black hair. I was drunk, like I said, but I could still think pretty good; and I wondered why the blonde guy hadn't wanted to be first. It was a little disappointing because I'd gotten real excited with him in the car.

I wasn't letting myself get scared. I knew that would be bad, because then I might do something panicky and get hurt. So I remembered Sis' pitch with Frank and whimpered and said, "Please don't hurt me."

He was shaking like a leaf. I think it was his first time with a naked girl, at least one with what I had, lying there on that blanket to show him. He was shaking with desire so bad his teeth was chattering.

"Don't hurt me, please," I whimpered, but actually laughing at him inside.

He was on his knees beside me, his hands on my boobs. And hardly knowing what to do, he was so eager.

"I won't hurt you, baby. Not me. I come from a good family."

That sounded so funny I almost laughed in his face. Then he was on me, practically sobbing with eagerness, his mouth slobbering on my boob and his teeth closing on the nipple.

There were two parts of my mind in this new experience. One looked at the guy and sneered. The other lay back in my mind somewhere and was more myself.

It kept saying, degraded. Stretched out on a blanket. Naked for a half dozen men to use. Humiliated. Made to crawl and whimper and kiss men's feet.

It was horrible, and yet it had some kind of a sweet fascination to it. I was shaking inside, all hot and excited. Everything was mixed. I felt anxious and excited.

There are no words I can find to describe how I felt.

Except that I wasn't afraid.

And I felt sorry for that pimply-faced boy. It was through him that I learned something. When they'd stripped me out by the cars and were being clowns and pulling my pants down and all that, he'd been right up there with them, poking his fingers at me and feeling my boobs.

But alone he was just a crazy hot kid. And then he tried and failed because he was too quick there was a tragic look on his face; and he began to cry.

He wasn't passionate after that because it was over for him, and he buried his face in my boobs and began to cry.

It was that weird.

Then he got up and ran out of sight.

I lay there waiting. Five left, I thought hazily, through the liquor.

The next one was older, a football-shouldered type I'd seen acting rather sullen when he watched the blond guy run the show and be the leader.

And I guess he decided to take it out on me.

My head was spinning by that time, and all I felt from him was violence. None of these kids, it seemed, were very sophisticated. Lex could have taught them a lot.

There was his weight hitting me. His face close to mine. The frantic lunge as though this that he was doing would even him up with the world.

I whimpered, "please be gentle."

He snapped back, "Cut it out., sister! Brace yourself."

He sneered and lunged, and I gasped and hung onto him. God! He may have been drunk, but he was all man. I changed his face there in the moonlight, and it was Frank lunging and puffing like a bull elk. I moaned and dug my fingers in his back, but he didn't even feel it.

When it was over he grinned down at me and said, "Baby, you're good!"

And he got up and staggered away.

As I lay there I heard a yell, and I knew Pete was getting his lumps again. I wondered if they'd found some place to hit him except in the belly. Then he screamed and I knew they had. I could almost feel the knee going up and see him writhing around on the ground.

But I had my own troubles except the next one wasn't much trouble. He was so drunk all he did was shake and quiver and slobber on me, his hands everywhere but not able to do anything and in a little while another guy came and pulled him off of me, kicked him back toward the group.

This new one wasn't drunk. And he had ideas. He started by being very polite and sympathetic. He said, "Honey, none of this was my idea. And then he was wiping my boobs with a handkerchief and had my head in his lap and was smoothing my hair.

But then he turned me over and his hands were strong and vicious, holding my head, and his breath coming fast. I thought of Lex and how I'd been with him — the new experience — knowing it and being degraded for all women.

I wondered about the strange, crazy thought I got at times like that. How horrible it was, but how excitingly wild to be like under a man's foot.

To be part of a man's passion.

The guy jerked and moaned, and I felt his hard hands and remembered how I'd learned to protect myself.

"Oh, baby!" he muttered, straining and straining and all taut. Then lunging upward and I fought and clawed at him.

He got up and left me there, curled up, cursing my own anger and degradation and tears, and I cursed Pete and called him vile names for not being able to protect me. For cringing away from them and squalling when they hit him, while I was taking the real beating.

The rest of them. The faces in my face. The breath on my breath. And finally staggering up and walking, rubber-legged and dizzy, back outside.

Six of them! Oh, my God! How much could one girl take? Degraded! Crawling up to plead and whimper.

One of the cars was gone. The gang was gone. Only Pete there on his knees with his face in his hands. He was crying.

I didn't feel self-conscious about being naked by this time. After what I'd gone through, it seemed the most natural state in the world.

"Are you hurt?" I asked him.

He moaned. "I'll get them I'll get every damned one of them!"

"Can you walk?"

"I guess so."

I helped him to his feet, and he leaned on my arm as we walked to the car. He was sniffling, and I tried to comfort him.

"Don't cry. Just consider yourself lucky you weren't crippled." "I'll get them!" "They were all drunk."

He jerked his arm away. "Are you defending them or something?" "No. I — "

"I saw you smiling at that guy in the car." "I wasn't smiling. I was — "

"What were you doing? Did you have his pants open?"

"I was trying to keep them from hurting you." "By going to his pants?"

"That's a fine thing to say."

All of a sudden, I laughed. It was funny. There I'd been raped by six guys, and I was being accused of loose living by Pete.

He stared at me. "What's the matter. Are you crazy or something? What's funny about it?"

"You'll never know. Wait 'til I get my clothes on. Then you can take me home."

They'd tied my clothes in knots, and I had trouble getting my skirt and blouse in shape to wear; I looked like the devil when I finally got home. So I sneaked in the back door and went to my room.

Safe behind my own door, I lay down on my bed and was very honest with myself. I think that's good. It's very hard for a person to be honest with themselves, but it's good to try.

So I asked myself if I'd really enjoyed what had happened to me. I don't exactly know why the question came into my mind. It seemed a very silly one for a girl who had just been raped six times to ask herself.

But I guess I remembered the hot, reckless feeling that had come to me while it was happening. One man after another without knowing what would come next.

Finally, I told myself I hadn't enjoyed it. I'd been in terror all the time. I was just thankful that I hadn't been in the hands of degenerates who might have injured me.

Then, after a while, I felt better. I hadn't been hurt, and that was lucky. It meant that I would always have luck. Whatever I did, wherever I went, my luck would always hold.

Thinking that way, my self-confidence came back. I led a charmed life, because if being raped by a gang hadn't been disastrous, nothing would ever be.

I lay in bed thinking of all the things I'd do, all the experiences I would have. All the men I'd meet.

Feeling very good now, relaxed and confident. I concocted a dream about them. I let a lot of them parade past my mind's eyes, and all of a sudden, there was the big blond leader of the rape gang.

I made fantasy the way I wanted it, so I had him forget all about the rape. I was standing on a corner, and he stopped and said, "Haven't we met before?"

"Yes," I replied. "I was wondering if you'd speak."

He was being very polite, not suspecting who I was, and asked, "Would you like to stop in somewhere for a drink?"

"I'd love it," I said, but why don't we go to my place. It will be less expensive there."

He smiled and said, "You're one girl in a million, thinking about a guy's bankroll."

I thanked him for the compliment, and we went to the house. Of course neither Sis nor Frank were there because this was a dream and exactly the way I wanted it.

We had a drink and then I said, "By the way, I wonder if you'd mind coming down into the basement with me. There's something I want to show you."

He was happy to, and when we got down there I stepped behind him; and while he was looking around, I snapped the handcuffs on his wrists. He stood there with his mouth hanging open, and I hooked the cuffs to a rope I'd thrown over an upper beam and pulled his hands over his head. He was helpless.

That may sound impossible to you, a girl doing that to a big football type, but remember it was a dream I was doing it in, and nothing is impossible in a dream.

He said. "What the hell is this?" I laughed. "Don't you really remember who I am?"

"Why you're—"

"That's right. The girl you and your gang stripped and raped out in the forest preserve."

"But it wasn't my fault. I — "

"You were the leader. You could have stopped them."

"I tried."

He was scared now. "Look, this is crazy."

"No, it isn't. I just want you to always remember what you and your gang did to a nice girl who didn't deserve to be treated that way. Six of you. Six! One after another! I just want you to remember."

With that I unbuckled his belt and jerked his pants down and then his shorts. I had a big paddle ready, and I whacked him across the bottom. "We're going to have an initiation, I said.

He let out a howl because the paddle had a thin, flexible handle, and it cracked like a pistol.

I braced my feet wide apart and began to paddle him. He yelled and howled. His bottom got bright red, then crimson. He writhed and kicked, but I kept on whacking him until there was sweat on my face, running down between my boobs and on my legs, and I was exhausted.

He began to cry and begged pitifully.

"Will you ever treat a defenseless girl like that again?"

Whack. "No!"

"Are you sure?" Whack.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure! Please stop!" Whack.

"Please! You're killing me!" I stopped, loosened the rope and let him down. And he was just like Lex. A coward. He huddled down on the floor and rubbed his rear and sobbed.

"You're disgusting," I said. "Get on your feet and pull up your pants and get out of here."

There on the bed, in my dream, I saw his stinging red rear and heard his howls, even after he'd gone, and I was hot with excitement.

All the warmth and vitality was flowing through me. For a minute I saw Hank, and I was in his arms. With the whole world a great ocean, and I was plunging into its depths. Down, down, down, and it was all mixed up.

Sis was on the lounge with her hands locked behind Frank's head. She was moaning, "More, more, oh, more..." And I was on that blanket under the parade of faces and in the pantry and on the balcony all at the same time.

Then my hands worked, and I straightened out and lay perfectly still.

When it was over, I took a long, deep breath. Then I cried a while. I didn't know why I was crying. I just wanted to. And after a while, I went to sleep ...