Chapter 1
Snow covers the campus of Conrad J. Sapp Memorial High School. It is seven o'clock in the morning, and soon, despite the fact that it is winter and bitter cold out with a thick blanket of snow everywhere, the school will be alive with students and faculty.
Now, one man makes his way through the corridors muttering softly to himself.
Lars Svensen takes his job seriously. He'd better. Without him, there would be no school. It is his job to insure that the business of dispensing knowledge can proceed in relative comfort, whatever obstacles the elements might place in the way.
Just now Svensen is checking the thermostats and pressure gauges of the giant boiler in the basement. Here, amid pipes and unpainted brick, he is at home. Here, he rules. Here, he spends the winter days in comfort. It is quite frankly, the warmest spot in school. And, due to the fact that no one in their right mind would ever want to go down there, it tends to be a place of perfect solitude, a place where he can escape the hassles up topside, the myriad problems and details that demand his attention. It's a big school. There's a lot of things that can go wrong.
He's the Maintenance Engineer, and he performs his tasks with pride, and with a will oiled efficiency that make him, for the most part, invisible. They don't think about him unless something goes wrong.
Things seldom go wrong.
Julia Perkins looked in the mirror and saw Steve Randal's naked legs hanging over the edge of the bed.
"Don't you think you ought to get a shower?" she asked. "It's getting late."
He propped himself up and looked out the window. "Shit, they have to call off school, don't they?"
"An optimist," she said from the bathroom, splashing water over her face. She would have taken a shower herself, but they'd spent the time fucking and now she had to content herself with this. Between her naked thighs, she felt his freshly cooked jism oozing back out between her still parted lips, flowing from the deepest parts of her pussy, where his throbbing cock had shot it only a few minutes earlier.
"You want to take a shower with me?" he asked, finally pulling himself up off the bed and staggering into the bathroom.
"Yes ... of course I do. But there's no time."
"Woman, for God's sake, don't be such a tight ass."
"Steve, you drove me crazy all night long and I'm going to babble like a deranged idiot in front of my students today because of it, and furthermore, I don't care. Does that sound like a tight ass?"
His hands found her buttocks.
They squeezed. He slid his fingers through the crack and down farther, between her legs now, sliding back into her juicy slit. Now that you mention it, no ... it doesn't feel all that tight. Of course, you just stretched pretty strongly, wouldn't you agree."
She leaned back into him. "Mmmmm hmmmm. . " she purred, contentedly. "I couldn't agree more. What would our students say if they'd seen us last night?"
"They'd look at us like we were from Mars, and then they'd go out and try the same thing. Now about that shower...." He slapped buttocks to punctuate his comment.
Ouch! That hurt. No, I told you, I don't have time for a shower, not if you want breakfast."
He turned on the water, let the jet form a cloud of steam in the tiny bathroom and said, "Forget breakfast. We'll stop at MacDonald's and get a couple Egg McMuffins."
"Yech! Do you have any idea what they do to those eggs before MacDonald's gets their grubby hands on them "
"No ... thank God. And don't you tell me. I'm one of those who firmly believes that research reports cause cancer, so beware."
He turned to step into the shower. ""What about it? You gonna join me?"
"Steve, I told you, there's no time. I'd have to dry my hair--! "
She let out a scream as he bodily lifted her up over the edge of the bathtub and set her down beneath the jet of hot water, chortling hideously all the while like a Hungarian hunchback with whip in hand.
"Did the lady really think she was going to escape my clutches? Ha ha. Foolish. Quite foolish indeed."
She shrieked and then squealed, and then, as his hands moved over her body, she started to laugh from the tickling. And then, as his hands turned more serious and dropped down between her legs, the tickling turned to something far more intense, and the laughter turned to soft moans, and time suddenly didn't seem to make too much difference.
"Hey!" cried Toni Francetti from the back seat of Wally-Joe Jordham's sixty-nine Chevy, "Watch it! You're getting ashes all over my sweater."
"Yeah, well, that's not all I'd like to get all over that sweater," he muttered, forming one of the longer sentences that she'd heard him speak.
"I know what you've got on your mind," she said.
Bruce Madden, sitting next to her said "Shucks, Toni, we're just a bunch of healthy guys."
"Yeah...." she said, pausing to take a hit on the joint, 'too healthy, if you ask me."
"Shit," said Randy Hunsucker from the other her other side, "no one put a fucking gun to your head and made you ride with us."
"Why, Randy," she said, mussing up his curly hair, "you're so cute when you're still half asleep."
He took the joint from her and said, "Why don't you suck my cock, cunt."
"I just might, fellow, if you treat me nice."
Scott Nunlet belched. "Sounds pretty fucking complicated to me," he laughed, "but then I was always lousy at compromises."
"Scott, you're just an uncouth ass-hole, that's all you are," she said to the boy riding shotgun in the front seat.
"Yeah., well, when you finish with Randy, you can suck my whang."
"Be patient, I'll get to you."
Wally-Joe Jordham said, "Cool it, here comes Gayner."
"Shit," was the universal reaction. Officer Blanchard Gayner. Highway Patrol, self-sworn nemesis of all students in possession of their own automobiles cruised slowly past in the black & tan with the blue dome on top for which he was noted and feared.
"You get pulled by Gayner, you'd better have seventeen witnesses ready to swear in court you were somewhere else. That's the only way you'll get off," went the local lore. Not all that many people had actually met with his wrath, face to face, but those unfortunate few who had were more than enough to keep the legend alive.
"Do you think he saw us smoking?" asked Toni, holding the joint down below the window.
Wally-Joe stared impassively ahead.
"Fucker can't see nothing," the boy said finally. "Car's too full of smoke."
For some reason that calmed them. They were parked at a roadside rest-stop on Highway 40 out on the west side of town. They didn't look right, sitting there, and he knew that if he pulled up next to them, they'd all be pissing in their pants ... so he contented himself with cruising slowly past, noting the license number cruising back one more time and then leaving them to wonder what he was up to.
"Fucking ass-hole," observed Scott Nunley, looking at his watch. "Shit, it's getting late. We're gonna have to get to school."
"Fuck school," Randy Hunsucker observed, placidly, unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. "I've got a date. You ass-holes can jerk off if you want."
Wally-Joe turned around and watched Toni drop her head down into Randy's lap.
"When he blows, you'd better not spill any on the seats. I just put them covers on."
"Oh Christ, can it, will you?" Toni said. "You sound just like my mother."
"Fuck your mother."
"You probably could."
That shut them up.
She started to suck on Randy's cock, while the other three watched, getting horny. They figured that she'd take a while and they'd have to get to school by the time she was done, but after a moment or two her lips slurping up and down over Randy's cock, she started to make watery, liquid sounds, and then, she raised up off his cock. Her lips were wet with a thin coating of cum, and there was still a droplet or two on the tip of Randy's cock.
Sheeeeeeeeiiiiiiit! You got yourself one powerful sensitive trigger there, boy," Scott Nunley jeered.
"Fuck you. It's too early in the morning. Besides, if I was fucking, I'd have done it nice and slow, but I wasn't so what's the point." He looked at Toni who was licking the last of his cum from her lips. "Right sugar? You'd just as soon get it quick as wait for it, wouldn't you? "
"Whatever you say, Randy darling."
"Aw...." he muttered, looking out the window, dismissing the rest of them, as was his way, with his silence.
Scott Nunley said "Well hell, I'm next, right. We got time. I'll make an exception this time and shoot fast ... like Randy."
Randy shot him a bird, never bothering to glance up. How about some fucking music," he grumbled.
Wally-Joe slipped a cassette into the slot and the sounds of a sharp guitar crashed over the speakers, effectively blotting out the sound Toni's mouth made slurping up Scott's cum, which was produced in approximately half the time it took for Randy's balls to blow, but Toni being discreet, sucked on the thing, even after it had gone soft, pretending that he lasted at least as long as Randy. Then, she winked at him, and, with a blob of his cum still on her lips, gave him a kiss.
The guitar also muted the sound of his gagging.
Polly Pritikin stepped from the front seat of her father's car. Her father said "You take care of yourself, darling," and she turned to give him a big kiss. "Thank you, Daddy. I couldn't stand the thought of walking today."
"That's fine, Princess. Nothing's too much trouble for you."
He grinned, and then he gunned the engine underneath the hood of the Coup Deville he drove for sport, and engine roughly the size of a small elephant. It succeeded only in spinning his back tires and digging a trench from which his car had no hope of escaping, wheels spinning fruitlessly over the smooth snow.
"Aw ... shit," he muttered, giving his little girl a hurried grin, and then he got out to study the situation, not wanting to admit that he didn't have the faintest idea what to do.
Polly saw Dick Wilson walking up Copeland street, a nap-sack slung casually over his shoulder, trudging through the snow like a pioneer wandering in from a few hard months of trapping.
"Oh. Dick," she called, overjoyed to see him. Her father didn't quite approve of her dating anybody, but Dick, for some reason, bothered him more than most boys did, even though she'd assured him that it was love, and that he respected her enough to wait till they were married.
Her daddy couldn't forget the rubber that had fallen out of Dick's wallet on their first meeting, however.
"Sonofabitch wasn't carrying that around waiting for a water-balloon fight, I can tell you that."
"Oh ... Daddy," Polly had sighed.
Now, Mr. Pritikin's eyes narrowed, and he watched Dick approach. "What's up?" the boy asked.
"Daddy's stuck in the snow."
"Aw, shucks, that's no problem," said, Dick, an Eagle Scout who was always prepared.
Sure enough, he reached in to his sack and pulled out a small paper bag and said "You just get on back in the car. Mr. Pritikin, and I'll have you out of here in a jiffy. Don't gun the engine too hard now."
"What the hell you got there?"
"Just trust me, Mr. Pritikin. It'll work."
He would have argued with the boy longer, but he was already late, and he knew that the bank would never be able to function without him. otherwise, he'd have stayed right where he was and demanded that the lad justify himself ... but as it was, he climbed back into the huge automobile and said "Okay, kid, do your stuff."
Dick sprinkled a layer of dry sand out of the paper sack beneath both of the back tires, extending the sand until it reached the freshly plowed road.
"There you go, sir," he said, smiling sharply, "that should hold you."
Dubiously, Mr. Pritikin eased off the brake and eased on the gas pedal, and to his amazement, and relief, the tires grabbed and moved the hulking behemoth forward.
"Sonofabitch," he muttered, then, rolling the window down, he gruffly tossed off a quick "Much obliged," and took off down the road.
Polly and her beloved stood there in the road watching. Then Steve turned to Polly.
She sighed, hearts surging out of her breast and filling the air around them, cartoon fashion. "My hero," she mooned.
"You know ... your old man ... even for an ass-hole he's pretty fucking pathetic."
"I know," Polly agreed. "We keep hoping they'll find a drug, but I'm getting discouraged."
"Understandable. If this was a fair and just society, we'd make provisions for his kind to be humanely shot."
He put his arm around Polly, and, laughing, they crossed the parking lot to Conrad J. Sapp Memorial High School, walking towards their home room class which they both shared.
Polly was wondering what she'd wear at the wedding
Dick was trying to figure out a new way to make her put out. A perfect affair.
As they wandered into the building, they saw old Mr. Svensen puttering past, a large pipe wrench in his hand.
"Make sure the heat's working, Mr. Svensen," Dick called out merrily. "Don't want to freeze my gonads off."
Polly slapped Dick on the shoulder. "You shouldn't talk like that in public," she scolded, indignantly.
Svensen looked up and said "Ya, but I be there the working for the make ... over and over ya!"
He laughed, puttering on his merry way, oblivious to the fact that he still, after some fifteen years in this country, hadn't come close to cracking the secret of English.
Conrad J. Sapp Memorial High School, a medium sized institution in a medium-sized city in a medium-sized state. Which state isn't important., it could even be your state ... perhaps, you might even recognize some of the players thus far introduced in our sordid tale of degradation.
Degradation? You ask, what degradation?
A good question, for the story has yet to begin it's development. We've witnessed only the opening movements of the participants, unaware that they are linked together in a common experience that will change the very fabric of their lives.
We've watched their waking rituals, watched them stumbling out into the daily world and begin what they think will be just another day.
But they are wrong. Already event's have been set in motion, like a first small disturbance in a snow bank sending a drift sliding down towards the unsuspecting valley below, gathering momentum until it avalanches over them without warning.
"So what about it, Toni," said Scott Nunley. anxiously, "you want to go out and get drunk with us tonight?"
She giggled.
"Scott, you mean you don't have a real date?"
"Aw, you don't have to be like that, Toni," said Randy. "We're glad to go out with you."
"Sure you are, fellows, so long as it's along a dark road somewhere."
Wally-Joe, a huge silent mountain of a man pried himself out from behind the steering wheel and said "Got us some acid."
Toni was tempted.
"Can't do it." she finally said. "Maybe you boys don't have any dates on a Friday night, but I happen to have one that's going to be very, very hot."
Whistles, hoots and derisive jeers greeted that.
Then Scott said "Really?"
She smiled. "Ta-ta, boys. It's been a LOAD of fun, but I've got to get to class. You all be good, now, hear?"
She walked away from them, feeling their eyes burning into her ass as she made certain to wiggle it from side to side in a manner that some said should have torn her legs out of joint.
She hadn't been lying about a hot date. She was going to spend the weekend up at Rollins College, with J.R. Rodgers, ex-B.M.C.C. here at Conrad J. Sapp Memorial High School, and now a sophomore up at the big college in the big city, and she was looking forward to it. Looking forward to getting someplace where a healthy desire for cocks didn't automatically relegate her to the species "WHORE" and leave her with only Wally-Joe Jordham and his cronies for male companionship. Whatever else you could say about them (and there was lots to be said, most of it bad) they had cocks, and they knew how to use them. And they had no qualms about using them on her, which suited her just fine. She was mature for her age, she'd started to sprout tits at the tender age of ten, and by the age of fourteen they were firm and round and now that she was a senior and they were still growing, she was convinced that she'd been given a special mission in life. Just what it was, remained unclear, but she knew instinctively that the time she spent sucking cocks and riding them buried in her cunt was all moving her in some small way, towards that calling. And anyway, it felt good.
"Pssst " said Dick, in home room, leaning across the aisle.
Polly, studious, didn't like him calling attention to either herself, or the fact of their relationship and so she tried to ignore him.
"Psssssst!" he repeated, louder this time.
She turned to him, eyes flashing. "Would you calm down!"
He tossed a note onto her desk. She blanched and quickly slipped it into her composition book. Note-passing was severely discouraged.
But as soon as she ascertained that the homeroom teacher. Miss Perkins, wasn't watching, she pulled it back out and read-Is it my imagination, or are there some really heavy welts running down Miss Perkins' back?
She shoved it into her composition book again.
She stared straight ahead. That was the biggest problem with Dick. He kept thinking about sex all the time, and she was starting to fear that he was going to look elsewhere. She didn't know how much longer he'd put up with hand jobs. If only he wouldn't keep springing sexual comments on her. It just wasn't fair. It wasn't polite. If he was a gentleman, he most certainly wouldn't be that way. She felt an anger building inside her which caused her to keep her head forward, ignoring him. That would show him, she thought. That would show him that he couldn't! Hmmm ... now that he mentioned it ... there were indeed some strange looking marks, dimly visible through Miss Perkins' White blouse. Polly doubted seriously that the teacher realized her blouse was a thin a material as it was, or surely she would not have worn it.
Dick was always making jokes about the way she would look tied up ... about how much he'd get a kick out of it.
"You're awful to her Dick," she'd protested, finding Miss Perkins a gentle, graceful teacher who most certainly would not permit herself to suffered the indignities that Dick spun out in his fantasies.
"Yeah, well, check her out for rope burn sometime," he'd said.
She'd ignored him ... but now, after a second glance at the woman's back, finding the crisscross matrix of faint red lines showing through the material to be impossible to discount (whips and chains and handcuffs and spikes and clamps and needles and all those other awful things she'd seen when she stole her daddy's catalogue from the top of his closet and masturbated looking at it now popped into her mind) and she turned her attention to the lady's wrists.
The blouse she wore was long-sleeved, of course, but once when Miss Perkins walked past, handing out an announcement sheet, Polly had stolen a quick, furtive glance at the lady's wrists, and, sure enough, just as Dick had predicted, there was a dark red band showing just past the edge of the sleeve, a mark that Miss Perkins hastily pulled her sleeve down to cover when she saw Polly's eyes pulled in that direction.
Polly quickly looked away.
She felt a strange sensation between her thighs.
An itch. She pressed her thighs together harder ... and then, by flexing the uppermost muscles, again and again, rapidly, as rapidly as she was able, she felt a series of shivering sensations starting to delve into the depths of her body ... homing in, particularly, on the hardening berry of her clit.
She was only half aware of the movement of her thigh muscles ... only half aware that images of naked women in ropes were now starting to seep into her mind....
She knew only that she felt strange ... that she felt ... hot ... hotter than should be the case, even with the heater running full-bore.
Her body began to tingle ... she increased the movement of her thighs to the point that she could feel violent tremors starting to shake her.
But they were invisible to anyone watching her.
She looked, as she always looked to the casual observer, like a typical prim, proper, studious young lady.
Her pussy juices flowed from inside her cunt. She felt her body expanding ... felt herself growing light headed.
And then the bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom.
She snapped to attention, realized, sheepishly, what activity had occupied her for the past two or three minutes, and looked around furtively to see if anyone else knew.
Obviously, they'd remained oblivious to her behavior, which was why she indulged herself in it so often.
But it would have been nice if she'd been able to come.
She'd been close too, there was no doubt about that.
Her panties were sticking now to the outer lips of her cunt ... they felt wet ... no, saturated was more like it. Damn, that meant that her cunt was going to freeze going to her next class. Mr. Randal's history class.