Chapter 2
Bart sat there for a long time, just enjoying the pleasant feeling of relaxation that always followed a sexual release. Cathy was still kneeling before him, her body all folded up in itself, as though she thought she could make herself less noticeable that way. He had no doubt she had just undergone the greatest humiliation of her life, and one far greater than she had deemed possible. It made it all the nicer, thinking about how she felt. He had bent her to his will, and forced her to do something repugnant to her, just to give him a few moments pleasure.
Finally, he rose from the chair. She leaned back quickly as he came up, to keep from being knocked over by his legs. Then she made it to her feet. Bart stuffed his cock back into his pants and put an arm around her. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it, darling?"
"No."
He knew she was lying, just to keep from making him mad, and that made it better yet. He laughed a deep, comfortable laugh. "Take off your clothes now, baby," he said casually. "I'll have that look I mentioned." She bit her lip, but of course after what she had just done for him, taking off her clothes wasn't as important any more. She stripped down to panties and bra while he went to get her fix ready. But then she stalled, looking uncertain. "All the way, honey," he said. "I don't have X-ray vision, you know." She looked at him with a hint of pleading in her eyes, then hooked her fingers in the band and began to peel her panties down. She stood before him, looking humiliated and scared. "Take off the bra, too, honey."
"But why? You said you just wanted to-"
"I told you, this guy's a connoisseur. I have to make sure you're something worth offering to him."
"All right." Reluctantly, she unhooked the bra and tossed it into a chair. She was completely naked then, except for the little flats on her feet.
"Get on the table over there," he said, pointing to the big, dining room table. She looked at the needle longingly and crawled up on the table. Bart swabbed the needle with alcohol and thrust it into her arm, in the fleshy part underneath. Almost instantly when he pressed the plunger he saw the difference in her. She relaxed, and her eyes took on a dreamy look.
"Okay," he said. "Now you feel better?"
"Oh, yes." She looked as though she wanted to go to sleep.
"Open up," he ordered. She looked up at him for a moment, then spread them. "Good. Now pull up your knees a little." He walked to the foot of the table and leaned over it. A glance at her face told him that even the dope wasn't keeping her from feeling the shame and humiliation of this moment. Bart placed his hands on the insides of her knees and pushed them wide. Her slit was tight, but it opened for him. He leaned in between her legs and looked into it. The membrane was there, all right, fragile but intact. It was worth more money to him, he thought, than the average man made in six weeks. He placed his fingers on her cunt and spread it nice and wide, pretending to need the better look. She was crying now, and he was enjoying her chagrin. He looked for a long time before he let go of her.
"Okay," he said. "Get up and put your clothes on, baby. Or better yet, go in and take a shower. Then get your clothes on and go into the bedroom. The small one. I'll be in in a little while to tell you what to do next."
When she was gone, he picked up the phone and called Arnold Towers. "Towers? I've got someone for you. Someone who's going to fill the bill."
"When?"
"Today. Just as soon as you can get down here."
He heard the man's heavy breathing from the other end of the wire. "Okay," Towers said. "Is she really good?"
"Have I ever fooled you?"
Towers was there within forty-five minutes. They sat on the couch and talked business. "She's sixteen," Bart said. "A cheerleader, blonde and cherry."
"How do you know?"
"The only way you can know. I looked."
"She's such a nice girl, and she let you look to see if she's cherry?"
"She needs the money badly. You interested?"
"Well, sure I'm interested."
"It's going to cost you."
Towers was instantly on guard. "No more than usual, right?"
"Wrong. Virgins are hard to find nowadays. Right now a sixteen-year-old virgin is hard to find."
"All right, never mind the sales pitch. How much?"
"Two yards."
"What? Two grand for a piece of tail?"
"Now, you know you're getting more than just a piece of tail for your money, Arnold. You're getting the right to bust a nice, well brought up Catholic girls' school cheerleader type. You're getting the use of a nice, safe bedroom for as long as you want, up to tomorrow morning. You're getting the right to break her in, have the fun of letting her do anything you can think up, when she's never even taken her pants off for a man before. You get all the booze you can drink, and all the booze you want to pour down her."
"I don't give a shit. Two grand is too much money."
There was a knock at the door just then, of course. It was just what Bart had told her to do. When he told her to come in, she opened the door and stood there in her miniskirt and blouse, looking nervous and lovely. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know-Where do you want me to go, Bart?"
"The bedroom at the end of the hall, honey," Bart said. She knew that very well, of course. She had been there for the past fifteen minutes. It was part of the sales pitch. She smiled nervously at Bart, looked at Towers with a nervous glance, and left.
"That her?" Towers asked raspingly. "Yeah. But since you're not willing to spend the money-"
"All right, you made your point. She's something special. But two grand!"
"That's my price, and you can afford it."
"Okay, okay. Good thing for you I carry that kind of dough with me."
"A good thing for both of us, I'd say."
Cathy Winslow sat in the strange bedroom, wondering how she had gotten there. The one look she had had of the customer had made her want to run away. She almost had, in sheer panic, before she had remembered the warning Bart had given her. He had described it so graphically. She didn't know if she would be able to give that man the kind of service he wanted, but she knew she would stay and do her best for him.
She didn't know how long she had sat there when she heard his heavy footsteps in the hall. It seemed like an impossibly long time, and yet like just a few seconds. Time always seemed mixed up when she had just had a fix. And now it was worse, because the fix hadn't deadened things enough to keep her from dreading what was coming. She looked at the window for a second. She was on the twelfth floor. If only she had the courage ... But of course she didn't.
He opened the door and walked in, looking huge and gross, a little distorted by the drugs. She could hear him breathing clear across the room, and she knew he was excited. He seemed all the more disgusting to her for that. She looked past him, into the hall, and thought for a moment she was going to make a break for it. But of course, there would be no place to go beyond that hall. No place where Bart's friends wouldn't be able to find her.
"Hello," she said, in a soft, spongy voice. She was suddenly aware that he was staring at her legs as though they were something to eat, and he were a starving man. She had an insane desire to tug at her miniskirt, but she fought it down. Only her fingers moved a little, flexing and straightening.
The man came the rest of the way into the room and closed the door behind him. It sounded surprisingly loud in her ears, as though he had slammed it, but he hadn't. It was the horse again, and her own high strung emotions. She stood up, just to be polite. She couldn't seem to think of anything to do or say. He just kept staring at her like that.
He came closer then, and she backed up the half step that was allowed her by the nearness of the bed, and almost lost her balance. She noticed that his shirt had a button missing right at the level of his huge belly, as though the belly had popped it loose.
"Goddamn," he said, breathing the words on her from very close. "Jesus, you're worth it." Then his huge, flabby arms were around her, and he pulled her against him. She felt his belly against her, and she was stiff and scared, her body tense with the urge to struggle, to break and run. But she didn't. She made herself stand there, held tightly against him. She was amazed at his strength, for a man so out of condition. The arm was like a steel band, the way it held her. "Relax," he said, barely vocalizing the words. His face was very close to hers now, and he was sweating. It wasn't hot in the room, so she guessed that he was just sweating because he was emotional at the moment. He wanted her. She knew that with frightening certainty. She had never been aware of being wanted before, though she had always taken some pride in her attractiveness, and had known that men desired her in the casual, offhand way they desired all attractive women.
But this was different. This animal wanted her with an obscene intensity she had never known before, and the most frightening thing about it was he was going to have her.
"I said relax," he ordered more firmly. She forced her muscles to slacken a bit, made her rebelling body melt against him. She knew that would inflame him all the more, and she didn't want that, but of course she had been paid for this night, and unless she wanted to be paid again, and in a coin she didn't want, she had better do what was expected of her. She only hoped that it would be over soon.
What she had done for Bart had been horrible beyond anything she had imagined. But now she was going to do anything this man wanted. Anything. For as long as he wanted to keep her here. "That's better," he said with a slack smile. He pulled her closer into his body, and held her tightly.
Cathy became aware of a stiffening down below. She had heard enough about sex to know what it was, of course, and the awareness made her want to vomit. At the same time it filled her with the urge to run again. And there was something else, too. She felt a sickening, perverted excitement, and a queer sense of power at the thought that she had gotten a man excited, and had brought about this reaction in him, a reaction over which he had no control.
His hand moved to cover her throat, and then slipped up to her chin and lifted it. She had all she could do to let herself be tilted back. He bracketed her face with his thumbs and pinched inward on her cheeks, opening her mouth. She knew what he was going to do, of course, and she was panicked by the thought, but she allowed her mouth to be opened by him, and when he kissed her she just tried to think of something else.
It wasn't a complete success. She couldn't help being aware of his mouth on hers, and his rancid breath. His tongue, intruding on hers, was too much to be ignored. Her body stiffened a little, and she had to work to make it relax. She didn't want to make this man mad at her. If she did, he'd complain to Bart, and then she'd be in trouble. .
Finally, the kiss was over. The hardness pressing into her belly had grown. The man let her go and stepped back to look at her. He took both of her hands. His hands were huge and soft and flabby, and they were moist with sweat.
"You're no bigger than a minute, are you?" he said. His eyes were like two drips of fire in his pasty face as they moved over her. She didn't know what to say, or do. This was so new to her.
"Do-" She started to say it before she realized the words were coming out of her mouth, and she had to go through with it then, no matter how embarrassed she was. "Do you want me to undress, sir?"
He laughed at her, and she didn't know whether it was from sheer delight at having her here like this, or whether he found her question, or her obvious discomfort, amusing. She felt herself flush deeply, and that made him laugh again, more heartily than before.
"Don't be in such a hurry, baby," he said. "We've got all afternoon, evening and night to get acquainted. We'll get the clothes off of you, but only when I want to."
"Yes, sir, I-I didn't mean-"
"Besides, I'm like a kid at Christmas. I like to unwrap my own presents." It took her a moment to get the drift of his last statement, but then she felt herself flush all over again. She had never been undressed by anyone in her life, or not since she had been a baby. She thought of what it would be like to have this hideous toad of a man undress her, to sit or stand very quietly and let him do it. The thought made her bile rise again, and she had to choke it down. She was glad she hadn't eaten anything since lunch time, and not much then. She had been worried about the fix she knew she was going to need. Well, she thought, she had certainly taken care of that problem.
He took her in his arms again, holding her very close, and she was suddenly, horribly, aware of his hand sliding down over her fanny. The hand reached the hemline of her skirt and lifted it, very slowly. Cathy felt like screaming. Then his mouth covered hers again, cutting off any chance of that, and she stood there against him, rigid and terrified while her skirt was pulled up and the hand began to play over her cheeks, feeling them luxuriously through the thin panties she was wearing. It sent chills up her spine.
His arms were around her body, and her own were outside of his, sticking down rigidly, her fists clenched into hard balls. "Put your arms around my neck, honey," he ordered her softly. His voice was tense with excitement. She hesitated, and he started to give the order again when she suddenly managed to work up the nerve to do it. She circled his neck with her arms and held her left hand in her right, using all her will power to keep from drawing away from him. She could feel sweat through his shirt collar, and she could smell it all over him, a rancid smell, the sweat of a hundred months of drinking whiskey and beer.
Sometimes, when she was alone at night, she had indulged in fantasies about losing her virginity, or giving it up, yielding it to the right man. She had imagined what it would be like, with a man she loved, maybe her husband, in a fresh, clean bed, in a lovely suite in some hotel. She almost had to laugh now to compare the dream with reality. It was such a grotesque comparison: her dream of a lean, hard, gentle man, and this flabby, sweaty animal who was pawing her ass.
He moved his hand upward to the top of her panties, and she bit her lip hard to keep from screaming. She knew what he was going to do, of course. She had expected it right from the moment he had begun to lift her skirt. For the first time she really clung to him, just to hold to something solid and real, something that would keep her from losing her balance as the dizziness of horror passed over her.
The hot, damp hand moved down inside the tiny panties, breaching the thin defense of nylon that had guarded her skin from his palm. The hand moved with deliberate slowness, with real luxury, over the round, soft cheeks of her ass, squeezing and moving a little and stopping to squeeze again. She heard little grunts of pleasure from the man, and she knew he was working himself up into an intense state of desire. She clamped her eyes tightly shut and tried to think of something else, but couldn't. It was too real at this moment. She couldn't fool herself now, and she couldn't accept it either. She couldn't believe this was going to happen, not all the way, surely God wouldn't let it, after she had been a good girl all these years.
The hand spread out, flattening against her flesh, flexing and resting there, and then he withdrew it. Cathy felt her breath whistle out of her lungs as the tension in her lessened just a little.
He began to kiss her face and neck, and she made herself stand still and take it, fighting the almost unfightable urge to scratch and bite and struggle, to run away from him. His mouth moved over her skin like some slimy reptile, almost driving her into a faint, it was so repulsive. But she stayed there. She wished he would get on with it. This had to end sooner or later, she told herself. It had to. Why did he have to draw it out like this?
He released her finally. "Go over and sit on the bed," he ordered her hoarsely. She did as she was told, walking carefully and slowly, because she was afraid her shaky legs might fail her if she weren't careful. He looked at her when she sat down, and she was aware of his eyes on her bare legs, watching the retreat of her skirt as she sat. She wanted to pull the skirt back down, but she kept her hands away from it, folding them neatly in her lap. She tried to return his gaze, but her eyes kept sliding away from his face. She couldn't stand to look at him, not knowing what he was going to do to her. She couldn't stand to think about that, nor could she keep from thinking about it. If he didn't get it over with pretty soon, she would lose her mind. But he continued to enjoy the sight of her, while she sat and waited for his pleasure.
He walked to the bed, and she saw his cock now, bulging against his pants, as he approached her. She bit her lower lip and fought down the dizziness that swept over her. He sat down next to her, and his hand lowered, slowly and without haste, and she sat, tense, waiting for the touch of his fingers. The hand moved with exaggerated slowness, and she realized he was enjoying her discomfort, deliberately drawing out the preliminaries to make her squirm.
The hand moved back and forth along the length of her leg as it came down, so she wouldn't know where to expect the contact to come. Then he stopped it, only a half-inch above her flesh, and finally lowered it all the way, slowly, with contemptuous gentleness, showing her he had no need to be hurried, since there was no chance that she would draw away or offer him any resistance.
She felt the heat of his palm just an instant before the soft, moist fingertips touched her above her knee. The hand came to rest there fully, lighting slowly and tantalizingly, and Cathy almost screamed at him. She couldn't stand this kind of thing much longer. If he was going to do it, why didn't he?
He slid his hand up the length of her thigh, letting it go up very slowly toward greener fields, fuller, softer and warmer flesh. She sat looking straight ahead, painfully aware of the hand there, moving over her skin with the casual gentleness of ownership. He was breathing hard and heavy and fast now, and she felt the bed shake from the trembling of his huge bulk.
"You got fine stems, Cathy," he said, and she murmured some kind of thanks. All she could think about right then was that hand, nesting on her thigh like a toad.
He was getting a strange look about him, almost like someone who had turned on with grass. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and his tongue kept darting out to moisten his lips.
"Let's start the unveiling, baby," he said. He gestured to her, letting her know what he wanted her to do, and she turned slightly away from him, presenting her back. He began to unbutton her blouse, his hands shaking slightly. But he didn't hurry about it. He took his time, enjoying the revelation of smooth, white skin that he was earning for his efforts. He worked the vee of open cloth downward, widening it with each new button that was opened.
Cathy was aware of the coolness of the air on her skin as the blouse opened, and she imagined she could feel his eyes, too, looking at her. She was only wearing a bra under the blouse, and as it opened her back was increasingly revealed. She tried to tell herself that she had shown more of herself on a public beach, or at a swimming pool, many times, but it was no good. She felt more embarrassed, more humiliated and more helpless than at any other time in her life.
He leaned over after a while and traced a line down her back with his lips. She tightened convulsively and heard a muffled chuckling sound behind her. Then he slipped a hand under the open blouse, squeezing the flesh on her side lightly, and she had to grit her teeth to keep still. The sweaty palm moved moistly over her, stopping to squeeze her every once in a while. Cathy put her hands in her lap and gripped her thighs until it hurt. She looked down and saw little white marks on her legs from the gripping, and her fingers ached from it. Her jaws ached, too, from the work of trying not to scream.
The man withdrew his hand from her blouse and began to pull the garment free of her skirt, working it out a little at a time, pulling out an inch of the cloth and moving on, and she could feel the top of her skirt bite gently into her skin as the blouse was withdrawn.
When it was all out and hanging freely about her, he took the shoulders in his hands and drew it forward, pulling it off of her altogether. Cathy raised leaden arms slightly to allow the sleeves to travel down them, and the blouse was gone.
He looked at her for a moment, and she could see obscene glee in his eyes as they traveled over the expanse of naked flesh he had just undraped. Her bra was a light one. Her breasts were good sized and firm for her age and height, and didn't need the support of an uplift bra yet. She knew the color of her skin showed faintly through the thin white cloth, and she had a feeling he could see her nipples, too, just the pink shadows of them. She closed her eyes, clenching them tightly for a minute, and he laughed softly again. She could hear his breathing more clearly than ever now. He was excited, and getting more so with each passing second.
He laid his fingers on one of her bare shoulders and let them slide down the front of her, over the bra. She could feel the light pressure of his fingers through the garment. He squeezed the point of her breast lightly with a pinching motion, and then let the fingers move on down over her belly, making it quiver with the tickling sensation they caused, and also with the revulsion she felt at having him touch her there.
"Turn around again," he ordered her, and she showed her back to him once more. She felt his hands moving over her for a while, and she could feel them moving to converge on the clasps of her bra. She sat very still by a supreme act of the will, clutching her thighs again, while he opened the clasps one at a time. She felt little sounds of horror welling up in her, heard them in her throat, and he laughed as he heard them too, and his hands moved, if anything, more slowly than before. Then the first clasp was open, then the second and he only had the one more to go. She felt the bra loosen and her breasts bulge against it more freely. He waited a good long time before working on the last clasp, but when it fell open, she made a slight movement, as though she had been taken by surprise. The bra loosened and fell away from her breasts, and she lifted her hands convulsively, to hold it over them. He didn't say anything, but of course he didn't have to. She forced her arms down again, and the bra fell outward, hanging loosely by the shoulder straps.
He embraced her from behind, his arms circling her at the waist, his hands sliding up her belly to her breasts. They slipped under the meaningless bra and cupped her breasts lightly, luxuriously. She had to choke back the vomiting action in her throat. She didn't see how she could take much more of this. The man was dragging things out as long as he could, and they were only down to her breasts now.
He pulled her back against him, holding her that way with a light pressure on "her breasts. His palms flexed and relaxed lightly, squeezing her breasts with obvious enjoyment.
Then he moved his hand slightly away from her right breast and began to move his fingers lightly over the nipple, just tickling the tip of her breast with them, and she twisted a little, drawing away from him convulsively, as the revulsion she was filled with got the better of her for a moment.
"Let's not have any more of that shit," he said sternly.
"I'm sorry," she replied. She heard her own voice with a dull shock. She sounded hoarse, almost old.
"I'll be better," she said, feeling panic at the thought that he might get mad at her and report her to Bart, held herself still, giving herself up to his touch, and he worked on her nipples awhile longer.
Finally, he pushed the shoulder straps down, one at a time, and she held her arms out to let the bra slip off. She almost felt better to be rid of it. The half-on, half-off position had been more obscene than its absence.
He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him. She closed her eyes tightly and allowed herself to be turned. She couldn't bear to look back at him now. He must have found the sight of her breasts enchanting, because he waited a long time before he did anything else. Finally, she opened her eyes, because she couldn't just sit there with them closed forever. He laughed.
"I was wondering when you were going to pull your head out of the sand," he said. He looked at her face for a while, and then let his eyes slide slowly, insolently, down over her breasts. He stared at them openly for a long time, until she felt shivers begin to move over her body, and then he touched them again, cupping them one at a time. Finally, he leaned forward and unhurriedly covered one breast with his mouth, while he played over the other. Cathy felt her hand clench into a fist and her arm came up in front of her, a convulsive, defensive action that went no further.
She felt his tongue slithering over her nipple and the skin around it, and he made little animal sounds in his throat. He pressed forward, pushing her back, and she yielded to his pressure, lying on her back while he continued to lick her breast with increasing exuberance.
After a while, he withdrew from her, and stared down at her from a sitting position. She lay there, terrified and humiliated, wishing he would get on with it and get things over with, and at the same time wishing she could stall forever. He reached down and ran his fingers through her hair, spread around her head like a blonde halo, and then he began to work down the zipper on the side of her skirt. She felt the panic in her rise to the level of near hysteria, but she fought it down. She had to get through this, she had to, she kept telling herself. No matter how hard it was, she had to let him do whatever he wanted.
She had never been naked in front of a man before, except for a couple of doctors, and of course Bart. The thought of what Bart had done to her out there made her flush even more deeply, and the thought of what she had done for him made her dizzy with embarrassment.
The zipper moved downward as far as it would go, and then he went to work on the two buttons at the top. They yielded to his fingers one at a time, and then he slipped his hand under the top of the suddenly looser skirt. She felt the hand move over her panties, and for a moment he seemed to consider pushing it underneath. But he didn't.
He pulled the hand out and began to work the skirt down over her hips while she lay there. She bit her lip and looked at the ceiling.
"Hoist your ass," he commanded, and she managed to obey him. He pulled the skirt down to the level of her knees then, and she let her ass move back to the bed. She felt obscene again, as she had when the bra had been half on. She wished he would hurry and get the skirt off of her.
For once he did what she wished. He pulled the skirt down until it was off the bed, then let it fall to the floor. It made a little, wispy brushing sound as it hit the carpet.
He looked at her, and she knew he could see through her panties, as he had been able to see through her bra, just the shadow of blondeness under her belly. She felt sick as his eyes crawled over her, and she had to force herself not to retch.
He took her by one hand and pulled her to a sitting position again. She came up heavily, sitting there like a stone, wondering what he was going to do next, and wondering how she had come to be here, nearly naked, with a man like him.
His arms went around her, drew her close to him, and he kissed her again, his tongue moving through her mouth, a slithering intruder that moved over her own tongue with complete familiarity now. At the same time his hands slid up and down her back, sending chills of fear over her. She could feel his nails scratching her lightly.
"Now stand up," he said, breaking off the kiss. She had to try twice before she could get her shaky legs to lift and support her. She stood facing him, only inches away. He spread his legs so that she could stand in between them, very close to the bed. She saw him staring at her panties, his face almost even with them, and she squirmed.
Then he reached out and hooked his fingers in the elastic of the garment, pulling the panties down a little and stopping. He was relishing this moment, of course, the moment in which he was stripping off her last article of clothing. Cathy had to fight herself to keep from pulling away. She felt her knees shake under her, and she knew the shaking was becoming uncontrollable. She could no longer keep them from quaking, and he could see them doing it. He chuckled with amusement and slid his hands around to the back of the panties, pulling the elastic down there too, to even the back with the front. The elastic had made a faint red mark on her skin, which was visible now.
He was almost drooling as he looked at her, his hands moving over her body with obvious delight. He pulled the front of her panties down a little farther, then evened the back again, and went on to pull the front down another half-inch. The first wisps of blonde hair came into view, just strands, and barely protruding from the panties, but it was enough to make him laugh in what sounded like a burlesque of a villain's laugh in a melodrama.
Then he evened the back again and sat back on the bed, enjoying this moment. Finally, he reached out with fingers shaking in nervous anticipation and pulled the panties down to her hips, revealing most of her pussy all at once.
It was a shock to her, because she had come to expect the slow, deliberate, tortuous lowering of the garment. She gasped, but for once he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were glued to the treasure he had just uncovered, and he didn't wait long to pull the panties down to her thigh, making her body an open book. The wispy garment fell down around her ankles, a puddle of nylon. He looked at her pussy, staring at it for a long, long time, until she squirmed under his burning gaze. She felt the tears streaming hotly down her face now, and some of the shaking of her body was sobbing.
A hand came forward slowly, tantalizingly, toward her cunt, and Cathy shook with the desire to pull away. It was hard to stand still. Her thighs and calves ached with the effort of it.
The fingertips touched her there, brushing lightly over the wisps of hair, and she let out a mewing cry that made him laugh again. Then his hand came against her pussy more firmly, and she felt the violent, shaking convulsions pass over her body as she fought down the almost uncontrollable urge to run from him.
He slipped his fingers between her thighs, and she cried out as he ran his thumb and then his hand over her cunt.
Finally, he took her hand in his and pulled her down to his lap. She sat gingerly, waiting to see what he was going to do. She sat with her knees pressed together like a maiden aunt. "Open up," he said hoarsely, almost grumpily. Her joints almost creaked with the effort of obeying him. She watched her own thighs part as though they belonged to someone else, unable to believe she was really doing this thing for this man.
He laid a hand on one soft, warm thigh and stroked it, his fingers on the inside, moving up toward Cathy's crotch. She almost screamed. No one had ever touched her there. She couldn't believe this. It wasn't real. But yet it was the most real moment of her life. She couldn't escape it.
He kissed her again, and his hand nestled into the warmth of her crotch, squeezing and exploring. After a while he broke off the kiss. "All right, get up, baby," he said. "It's time to get on with it."
He made her turn down the bed while he undressed. She actually welcomed the duty. It was something to do, something to keep her occupied, and to keep her eyes off of him.
When the bed was turned down to his satisfaction, with the covers pulled all the way down and draped over the foot of the mattress, she sat on the edge and waited. He was down to shorts and T-shirt now, and he looked uglier than she had thought he would. He pulled the T-shirt off over his head and tossed it onto the chair with the rest of his clothes, then peeled his boxer shorts down. He had some difficulty doing that, because of the huge bulge in front. She had never seen a naked man before, but she had seen pictures in some medical books in the school library, so she had a vague idea of what she would see.
The organ was hard, erect, standing out from the man's slack belly like a flagpole. It was almost ridiculously big, compared to the rest of his body. But the ridiculousness of it didn't make her want to laugh. She bit her lip and looked away.
He came across the floor to her, his feet padding on the thick carpeting, and when he got so close she could feel the heat of his body, she looked up at him, drawing on all her courage to do it.
His cock was almost even with her face, and it was very near to her now. He chuckled and told her to lie down in the middle of the bed.
Cathy felt horribly vulnerable in the prone position. She lay there, her legs stuck straight down from her body, rigid as death, waiting for him to join her. She didn't have long to wait. In a moment he was beside her on the bed, his body making a depression in the mattress. He slid over to her, and his arms went around her, drew her close. She could feel his belly, heavy and slack, against her. His cock nudged her side lightly.
He moved his hands over her body, her belly, her ass, her breasts, and his breath was heavy against her between kisses.
Finally, he moved away from her. "Spread your legs," he ordered, and she obeyed, as she had on his lap. It was the most difficult thing she had ever had to do, but she managed to get them open for him. She was conscious of the cool air on her inner thighs and her crotch. She could feel her slit stretch open.
He moved down on the bed, kneeling beside her at the level of her hips. He bent low and stretched her wider with thumbs and fingers. Cathy felt more embarrassed now than she had been when Bart had looked her over out on the table. He seemed to take a very long time about it.
"I just want to make sure I'm getting what I paid for," he said. She felt his finger probe into her a little way. He drew it back quickly. "I don't want to tear the little thing," he said with a laugh. "At least, not with my finger. I have just the right tool for that."
Cathy felt her body turning cold, and she wondered whether she was moving into a state of shock. She didn't know how much longer she could stand this kind of thing. But she had to! She had to stand it, because if she tried to run away, she would have Bart's friends to contend with.
She lay there while he stared into her all he wanted. Finally, he moved up beside her again. She started to move her legs together automatically, but he laid a hand on one thigh, and she stopped. "You're the real thing," he said. She glanced between his legs, and saw that his cock was bigger than ever, as though the mere fact of her virginity at his mercy had made him more excited.
He lay down next to her and kissed her again, then mounted her, his body slithering over hers, the huge, soft belly seeming to envelop her, and she heard the scream die in her throat as she forced herself to lie still. The cock, rigid and big, protruded between her welcoming thighs, and she had to clutch the sheet under her to make herself lie still for him.
One of his hands went down between them to grasp the cock, and he centered it on her cunt. She gasped, a sound that was almost a cry.
This was it!
This was the moment when he would take her virginity. If she didn't do something now, she wouldn't ever be the same again. She'd be something else, something she hadn't ever been before. She clamped her eyes shut and waited, feeling panic and helplessness mingle in her.
He pushed the cock into her a little, just a fraction of an inch, but already it was painful. She could imagine how it would feel when he pushed it in farther. Sweat broke out on her body and on her forehead, and she lay very still now, not only because she had to please him, but because any movement would be painful.
He pushed in a little deeper, and she suddenly realized that he was probing for her hymen, feeling gently for it, so that he wouldn't tear it before he was ready. Then the tip of his cock came into contact with the membrane, and he stopped cold. He lay there atop her, his breathing loud and gross in her ears, and she could look over his shoulder and see his ass humped up higher than the rest of his body as he held back from punching through her cherry.
He began to lower his hips slowly, letting his weight come more and more to bear on her hymen, stretching it painfully. She cried out, unable to choke off the sounds in her throat any longer. The pain was mounting as he stretched the lips of her body and the membrane in her at the same time. She cried out again and again as he lowered himself slowly, and finally she actually screamed in pain, let go with all her might, and suddenly her cherry tore, and his cock drove into her in one great lunge that turned her white with pain and almost made her pass out.
Her virginity was gone, but she only thought of that fleetingly at the moment, realizing that she would think of it more later on. Right now the pain was all she could think of.
He had begun to pump above her, his body lunging down onto her, and withdrawing, pulling his cock out for another shove, burying it in her then deeply, all the way to the root, and the pain was like fire between her legs. She screamed again and again, praying that she could pass out, but the respite never came. The pain became greater and greater as he worked above her, pushing in and pulling back, pushing and pulling, until it was all she could do to keep from raking her nails across his flesh to drive him away.
It didn't take long, now that it was started. He had driven through her cherry, and that seemed to excite him too much for him to hold out. He jogged atop her for a while, and then, suddenly his whole body began to quiver loosely, and then something hot and liquid flooded into her insides. She screamed again as his body accelerated, driving with new vigor into her, and then it was over.
He lay atop her for a while, and she fought for breath. Then he pushed himself off of her, his cock pulling slackly free of her pussy. She lay there, sobbing quietly, the pain and humiliation flowing over her like a wave. She had time, now, to think of what he had done to her. The virginity she had nurtured, had kept and maintained, had been taken from her, not by a man she loved, but by this huge animal next to her, this great, slack toad that lay there soaking the sheet with sweat.
There was blood on her and on the sheet under her. "Go clean yourself up," he said irritably. She got out of the bed gingerly, the fire between her legs as hot as ever, and made her way to the bathroom. She half expected to see Bart in the hall, but he wasn't in sight. She cleaned herself carefully, grateful for the soothing action of cold water on her belly and crotch and thighs, and then went hack into the bedroom. He was still lying there on the bed, and he looked like he was asleep. She remembered what he had said about them having all night to get acquainted. Her nerves were already on the ragged edge of hysteria, and her body was a mass of pain. She didn't see how she could possibly take hours more of his attentions. But then she recalled what Bart had said, the threat he had made, and she knew the pain she felt now was nothing compared with what she would feel when he got his friends after her. So she would stay. She would stick it out this once. This was her first sexual experience, and it would be her last act of prostitution. She was determined never to go through this kind of thing again. She had never even thought before that she could be a whore.
She walked to the bed and stood looking down at the sleeping man. She was tired, and it would feel good to lie down. But she didn't want to take a chance on waking him up. He might want some more sex, and she didn't want that to happen again until it was necessary. She went to a chair and sat, bending herself into position with great care as the pain bit up from her crotch into her belly.
The pain eased a bit when she kept her legs spread open, she discovered, so she sat that way, leaning back in the chair and wishing she could go to sleep. But she was too tired and too keyed up, and the pain was too great for sleep. She sat very still, to keep from waking the man up. But it wasn't any good. Just a few minutes after she sat down, he stirred, and opened his eyes. He looked blankly around the room for a moment, scratching his massive, soft belly, and then his eyes fell on her. He smiled, and Cathy managed to return the smile with a tremulous one of her own. She rose gingerly, trying not to think of the pain between her legs, or the things she was going to have to do before he would let her leave....