Chapter 5

"EEEEK EEEEEEEEEKKK!!!" Carolyn yanked and tugged at the doorknob as hard as she could while the din rose to a caterwauling, clattering riot behind her. The door yielded but did not give, being held as it was by the four boys who'd thrown her so unsuspectingly in with this horde of screaming, shouting, table-overturning monkeys at her back.

She turned and dashed toward the serving area, one hand held futilely before her heavily bobbing breasts, the other before her bald-shaven loins, still screaming, piercing the air over the shouts of the lusting, sex-mad boys. Rounding the serving partition, she collided with the bulky form of the cook, went sprawling, caught sight of her pursuers, and went scrambling on behind the safety of another female's back, while the cook held off the horde by slinging slices of bread at them and shouting, "Back, you little bastards! Get back and eat your fucking dinners!"

Carolyn dragged herself to her feet by the cook's apron, sobbing profusely but somehow unable to shed any tears, perhaps because her waterworks had been turned off for too long, perhaps because of the impassive expression on the plump, jowly face of the woman who'd saved her life.

"What the hell you runnin' around bare-assed for, blondie?" the woman asked, hoisting her easily to her feet, where Carolyn crouched and cringed, still very heedful of the clamor just yards away. "You come to dinner like that every night and every one of these boys'll get malnutrition."

"I was r-r-r-r . . ." Carolyn tried to explain. "In the forest, I thought it was wolves, and they came out from the bushes and s-s-s-sc-sc ... did awful things to me, took off my clothes and r-r-r-ra . . . They fucked me, those little baboons, they fucked me black and blue!"

The cook stepped back and surveyed her, said, "You look pink and red to me, except for all those pecker tracks on you. Little bastards, give them their head and they'll fuck all night long, or at least till it's time to eat. 'Scuse me, I gotta get dessert served up. Brown Betty tonight."

"They raped me, four of them, don't you understand!" said Carolyn, grasping the woman's thick arm, trying to turn her to face her.

She brushed Carolyn easily aside and headed back toward her kitchen, and Carolyn followed, propelled by the raucous clamorings behind the partition, drawn on in amazement by this woman's indifference. "Don't you understand, I was raped out there in the forest, at least four times! And by boys from this camp, boys who eat in this very dining room! I want you to call the police, right away, and call a doctor too!"

"It's a mess hall not a dining room, and you'll be in one helluva mess if you call the cops. Big old busty blonde like you gettin' raped by them little tads? Think they'd believe that? It'd be you to go to jail, for statutory rape. Quit hanging on me, will you? Them boys is hungry. As for callin' a doctor, you don't need one. A little fucking in the woods never hurt no woman."

"But I might be p-p-p-pregnant!"

The cook stepped back and surveyed her, looked her up and down, and made her vainly try to cover her nudity with her hands once again. The bulky woman said, "You ain't pregnant. You got all their cum on the outside of you, from the looks of it."

"EEK! Get it off! It's burning me!" Carolyn cried, slapping at her loins, her breasts, everywhere she could feel that dried crust of sexual vileness.

"Get it off yourself, I'm busy. BROWN BETTY ON THE WAY, BOYS," she yelled, and elbowed Carolyn aside.

This time Carolyn stopped her. She grabbed her arm and dug in, turned her about, and said to her weary face, "I've got to wash myself, I can't get p.g., not at the hands of those little baboons!"

"So? You got a shower at your place, don't you? Use it."

"I can't go out there naked!"

"It's the way you got here. Aw, shit. I can't stand here arguing all night. Grab a burlap sack out of that pile and get on home before you have a litter of kittens in my clean kitchen. 'Scuse me, lady."

Carolyn rushed to the pile in the corner, grabbed up a potato sack and immediately found a pair of scissors close at hand. She was busily cutting out a hole for her head when she saw on the floor some disks of sacking, just the same size as the eye and mouth holes of the sacks those boys had worn over their heads during her horrible ordeal in the forest. She proceeded to make her makeshift costume and was dressed in it when Martha Wilkes returned.

"Not bad," said the cook. "At least you got yourself a skirt of the right length now."

Carolyn confronted her coolly. "My attackers used this kitchen. I have evidence of that, and I have at least circumstantial evidence that you had some prior knowledge of it all. Now, are you going to call the police or not?"

"That's up to David," said Martha, busy again at her work, unconcerned. Obviously guilty as hell, but of exactly what and why, Carolyn had no idea. "I'll call him and tell him you want to see him, but my best advice for you, girlie, is to keep your mouth shut. It don't do no good to complain. If you don't like the situation you're in, then just move on down the road."

Carolyn slipped out the back door and into the night, and the moment she was out there it struck her that her rapists might still be on the prowl. She knew she had to be utterly silent as she glided through the gathering dusk to the safety of her cabin and she tried to keep close to the mess hall for as long as she could and out of the moonlight. The burlap sack was chafing unbearably against her bruised skin and her socks were drooping down around her ankles. She was covered with dirt, and now as she tiptoed through the shadows she fell over a trash can, sprawling forward with a loud clatter and rolling out into the moonlight.

"Keep away from me! I know you're out there," she cried, "and it won't be so easy to rape me now! Keep away, I say, keep away!" she kept calling out as she edged toward her cabin, looking all around her and going carefully.

She entered the cabin with a great sense of relief and immediately took off the burlap sack. Her skin felt scraped raw, every square inch of it, and her nerves were shot. She was in a state of shock and should have been in a hospital, but as it was, the shower was a very good second choice. She turned the water on good and warm and she soaped herself lavishly. The bathroom filled with fragrant clouds of steam as she scrubbed herself from head to toe. She washed her hair and rinsed it under the thick stream of warm, comforting water, washed all those dreadful semen stains from her body, then settled down to washing her vulval area, her vagina, and her clitoris.

Carolyn intended to do a thorough job of it. She certainly didn't want to get pregnant. She leaned back against the shower wall and directed the shower head right at her loins. The head was adjustable, so she could get one thick stream of water that thudded hard against her pubic mound. Legs apart, she soaped herself vigorously, all up and down her swollen labia, up within her poor, violated vagina, all around between her legs while she let the stream of water give her clitoris a good, hard washing. It, too, was still swollen and the steadily thrumming water hit against it directly. She helped in the process by spreading her labia wide and tilting her hips up, smiling down with satisfaction as she watched the thick stream hitting against it, washing it very very thoroughly indeed.

She lathered up a wash cloth and repeated the process, going all over everything again with the nice, rough cloth, scrubbing and scrubbing to make sure every trace of her rapists was gone, and then she rubbed in big handfuls of hot water, feeling better, cleaner all the time. Settling back against the wall, hips tilted and labia spread, she watched, smiling as the thick stream of water thrummed against her clitoris once again. She was beginning to feel a little human again, she decided, as the big waterspout beat steadily against her clitoris, well over an inch long now, and being cleaned of every trace of the four baboons who'd followed her into the forest.

Martha was right, they're bastards all of them, she thought as she watched the cleansing job. Stuck their hard little white pricks in me. Sucked on my titties like pigs. Just about smashed my clitoris flat, but it's going to be all right now, it's getting nice and fat again. And they squirted their stuff all over me, all over me! Awful stuff, awful boys, terrible ordeal. Worse than what Spike did to me, worse than Miss Trowbridge catching Iris and me modeling lingerie, but I'll survive, starting to feel better all the time. Whew! The water's so nice and warm. I'm feeling good all over. Scrub again. Real hard! Mmmm-m-m-m. Now rinse.

Oh God, my clit looks so big! Give it a good washing this time. Lay back and just feel it getting washed. Wonderful. Wonderful.

"Miss Holm, are you all right?"

"Eek!" She yipped and covered her crotch with one hand, a part of her breasts with the other. "Who is it?!? Who's out there?!? Don't come in here! I'm completely naked!"

"It's Mr. Sloane, Carolyn," he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief and opened her hand to the stream of the water again. "Martha told me what happened to you and I came right over with some medicinal brandy to see what I could do. I heard your voice. Are you alone in there? It's so steamy in here I can't see a thing."

"I guess I was talking to myself. I'm all alone. I'm still a little hysterical. It was terrible, Mr. Sloane. They even paddled me out there! Did you say you had some brandy?"

She stifled a squeal as the shower door opened and his hand, holding a glass filled nearly to the brim, appeared through the rising mists. She could see him dimly through the steam, but he obviously couldn't see her, for his expression didn't change as he stood there offering her the brandy. She took it and sipped it while he stood waiting for the glass. It warmed her going down, choked her a little with its fire, but she sipped steadily at it while continuing to smooth the rinse water over her loins.

"I want to report this to the police," she told him.

"Well talk about that in the morning. Did they paddle you severely?"

"They blistered me," she said, half turning, and rubbing her sore bottom.

"Little animals. I'll attend to that. I'm qualified in first aid. Are you feeling faint?"

"A little," she said, and handed him back the empty glass.

He turned off the water. "Best come out of there now."

"Please, Mr. Sloane!" she said, covering up again as the mists began to clear. "I can take care of myself."

He smiled a kindly smile and said, "I'm sure you can, my dear, but we can't have you fainting and knocking your head against something, now can we? Come out now, we'll dry you off, and I'll tend to your blisters while you tell me exactly what happened for my report."

He was holding up a big towel and looking away, and Carolyn timidly stepped out of the shower and into the snuggly warm folds of the terrycloth. He patted it around her shoulders and back and waist while she assured him her faintness would pass. She dried her breasts and tummy and loins while he very helpfully got to his knees and rubbed the long folds of the towel over her legs, briskly and yet tenderly, aware that she might have bruises everywhere on her fine young body. She thanked him and tucked the big towel around her torso just under her armpits, then used a smaller towel to dry her hair. She wrapped up her hair using the towel like a turban while he waited watchfully, ready to catch her if she fainted, and he steadied her by the arm as he led her into her bedroom.

"Just lie down on your bed on your stomach, Carolyn," he said. "That's right. Here. Best have a few more ounces of this brandy. Drink it slowly," he said, patting her back, holding the glass for her. She drank and smiled up at him gratefully. "Now lie flat, get comfortable, and we'll examine your injuries."

The light had been dimmed, so he had to bend close over her as he gently pulled aside the towel. She could hear his breathing, even and deep, as he gently touched the myriad little cuts and bruises that marked her back and buttocks and legs. He clucked and said, "Contusions, abrasions, and bruises, but this lotion will make them feel better. Brandy settling well in your stomach, Carolyn ?"

"Mm-hmm," she said, nodding and smiling as she felt his large, comforting hand smooth a generous amount of cooling lotion onto her back.

The lotion smelled good and felt good as he smoothed it over her relaxing shoulders, on the narrowing vee of her back, down through the long, shallow indentation of her spine. He sat on the bed beside her to do this. There was just enough room for him. His tweed-covered knee was four inches away from her nose as he worked the healing lotion in, talking to her smoothly and comfortingly, sympathizing with her for the ordeal she'd been through, assuring her that she'd be feeling just fine soon. She was feeling better already. The brandy had worked wonders toward relaxing her and his hands and the lotion were most effective in making the little pains in her back disappear.

"I'll just turn around and get your legs. Lie still, dear, don't move a muscle."

"Mm-hm-m-m-m," she murmured, as he shifted around on the bed, clucked over the little pine needle cuts on the backs of her legs, and began with the lotion there. It was good to have him there. He gave her strength. She liked his soft, warm voice, even liked the gentle rustlings of his clothes as he massaged her legs and healed them, starting at her ankles, working up over the soft bulges of her sore calves, working the lotion in behind her knees, and massaging it in very thoroughly up the swelling tapers of her thighs. All over the outsides of her hips it went, feeling almost as good as the brandy inside her. Magically, he was making the pain disappear, until his sleeve brushed against the sorest swell of her bottom and she flinched.

"Carolyn, I'm terribly sorry. Tsk. Didn't realize just how tender you are there. I'll be as gentle as I can. Be brave, dear."

She tensed as he poured the cool lotion onto her buttocks, forming discernible patterns with the creamy stuff, letting it drool down over the reddened hillocks of her posterior and into the deep crack between them. It tickled a bit, it felt good, and he was so gentle that his hands hardly hurt at all when they began working it in. She felt close to dozing, yet strangely and wonderfully awake. She knew he was making an effort to be gentle, for his hands were slightly trembling and there was a slight wavering in his voice as he spoke to her, telling her how very lovely she was, and what a terrible crime it had been for those boys to take off all her clothes and kiss her breasts and clitoris, and put their hot little cocks in her sweet little cunt and fuck her and fuck her and fuck her till they all felt good.

"Don't know how I stood it," she murmured.

"I don't either. I feel so very badly about it. Let's spread those lovely legs wider, dear. Here, I'll do it. Now I can smooth in the lotion down here in this sweet little crack of your lovely little bottom. There. Doesn't that feel good?"

"Yes. Oh, yes."

"You know, Carolyn, you really do have an exceptionally lovely posterior. If you weren't so devoted to teaching, you could model panties."

"Do you think so, Mr. Sloane?"

"Definitely. I could picture you modeling lacy little panties for that company out west that specializes in daring, wicked undergarments. And I can picture you modeling them in person, at buyer's shows and at businessmen's luncheons, walking around with nothing on but a wisp of blue satin, smiling your beautiful smile, exposing what's got to be a perfectly lovely pair of breasts, and getting paid very well for it. Yes, it's a lovely bottom."

"Nice of you to say that, but I'd rather teach!"

"Oh, of course. Here, let me get those legs a little wider apart. Mm. Even your anus is pretty. It's all pink and puckered, just like a very sweet and very special mouth, all waiting to be kissed. Does that feel good when I rub in the lotion right there?"

"Feels fine."

"Yes-s-s-s. That's right, get your legs a little wider apart and raise up that beautiful, gorgeous, lovely ass of yours just a little. Fine. Now I can rub the lotion in really well, really well, all around that precious mouth and even a little ways inside it. Oh, I'll bet that does feel nice."

"Mm-hm-m-m-m-m."

"You know, late at night like this, I'm often given to fantasy when I'm alone in my cabin. Right now I'm fantasizing. You're so lovely I can't help it. Know what I'm wondering?"

"Mm-mm."

"Given the opportunity, I'm wondering where a man would kiss you on this perfectly gorgeous body of yours. If a man were granted just one kiss, I think he might do it right here," he said, and his fantasy became so real that Carolyn entered into it, and could tell exactly what it would feel like to have a man press his warm lips against her anus and slip his tongue inside the tingling hole for a moment. It made her blush, and it made her smile. It made him sigh dreamily.

"Right here is where they raped you, eh? Legs a bit wider, dear, and hips a little higher. That's right. You can put your hands under your loins to properly elevate your lovely round ass. Is this where they put their hot cocks in you Carolyn? Did they slip them in this hole here?"

"Mm-hm."

"Tsk. Right in your vagina. Right in your love-hole. I don't think they stretched it. It's nice and tight. Wet, too. Is it sore at all?"

"Feels good."

"Yes, I'll just bet it does. I'll bet it felt good for those little baboons in the forest too, eh? That's right, help me with the massage, move your pretty hips a little, move that gorgeous ass. Keep moving, darling, while I have a look. Just bend right over here and . . . Oh, my. Oh Carolyn."

"What's the matter?"

"Lie still, dear. Nothing's wrong. It's just that I'm very pleasantly surprised to see that your sweet little cunt is even prettier than your anus. Amazing. They certainly did a fine job of shaving it. Hips up higher, honey. My, what a big clit you have! No, go right on squeezing it with your precious little fingers. You know, there isn't a man alive who wouldn't want to kiss you here. Mmmmm. Mm-m-m-m-m. Tastes beautiful. Mmm-m-m-m."

"Feels nice, real nice."

"Yeah. Yeah, it sure does," he said, breathing very deeply now almost panting, clothes rustling softly. "Rub that clit, honey, and make it feel good."

"I am. Oooo, I am."

"Yes-s-s-s. We'll both feel good together."

"Mm-hm-m-m."

"Gorgeous body."

"Nice man."

"You're feeling good all over, and so am I."

"Yes-s-s-s."

"Want some more good lotion?"

"Want your hands, too."

"Here it is, honey, nice and warm, good and thick, plenty of it, oh yeah, yeah, yeah-h-h...."

"That's it. All over my fanny, all over my gorgeous ass."

"Yes. Yes-s-s-s! Yes, wiggle it around while I squirt it all over you, while I rub it in hard and make you feel good all over, good all over! Yes! Yes! YES!"

"Yes, Mr. Sloane! That's it! Rob it in hard! Oh, it's so warm, and it smells so good!"

"So fucking good!"

"Yes, so fucking fucking fucking good!" she said, and he stayed right with her until her very relaxed body settled down into a beautiful dreamless slumber.