Chapter 12
Thy let her go to the bathroom after Mack Benjamin had pulled out of her, ecstatic with the pleasure he had enjoyed merged with her perspiring, shuddering and responding naked body. Scarlet to her ears, Christine Bernard had stumbled towards the bathroom and disappeared behind the door, after which the buzz of excited male voices had drifted even to her ears behind that door. "Boy, talk about a change of life," Mack Benjamin was exulting. "I thought we were going to have lassoo Teach and hold her down while I put the prong to her, but did you guys see how she gave down when she felt me in that tight little box of hers?"
"You wait until I get my crack at her," Bruce Melton grimly promised, rubbing his lean chin and staring impatiently at the narrow door behind which the naked bespectacled young woman was sequestered.
"Don't go at her like a bull, Bruce," Henry Ferguson advised. "You already saw how my little idea worked when Ben and Mack there tried it."
"Okay, but can I give it to her when she gets back out here?"
"No, you're going to give her a good half hour to get some rest. Look, jerk, we've got her in the frame of mind that she knows the damage had been done and she understands that she might as well take it nice and easy rather than get roughed up while she's with us. So don't spoil it. I'll bet by the time we let her go back home tomorrow, you won't know Chrissy at all," the stocky ringleader smilingly predicted.
"Well, anyhow, can I screw her in any position I want?" Bruce Melton demanded.
"Sure you can. Nobody says you have to do it the same way everybody else does. Just tell her what you want. If she won't come across, over the table she goes with her ass up in the air for swats, it's that simple," was Henry Ferguson's smirking answer.
But inside that narrow, dimly lit bathroom, Christine Bernard was seated on the edge of the dirty old tub, her face covered with her hands and sobbing softly, trying to choke back those sobs lest her abductors overhear them. And yet there was a singular difference between the tears she shed now and those she had first shed when, aghast at the fate Henry Ferguson had planned for her once she had been trapped in this basement printing shop and forced to come to grips with her captors' physical lust for her, those tears had been drawn by indignation and shame and cringing fear. Now, her eyes smarted from tears that were those of self-recrimination and almost disgust with herself; twice now within the short span of an hour her body had eagerly answered the virile, lusting drive of her young ravisher. It was unthinkable that she, who had been an utter virgin until tonight, should have been moved to such emotional shattering by these terrible boys! She no longer knew what to think about herself or them.
And perhaps for the first time in her life, pampered and sheltered as she had always been, Christine Bernard at last dried her eyes and, gingerly spreading her thighs a little, put her trembling fingers to the chafed-looking lips of her vulva and drew it open to peer into her own delicious, pink-tinted orifice. Had she changed? What was there different about her now, what made her body throb and vibrate, made her senses reel to the point that she could no longer realize what was happening to her? How had it been that, revolted by what that awful boy Henry Ferguson had wanted to do to her-and then made her do even more shamefully when she had been bent over the table to be spanked-she could seemingly forget all that degradation and humiliation and let an utterly strange boy put his sex organ into hers and draw her against her very will to trembling, overpowering acceptance?
It had shaken her equilibrium at its very base, and she felt herself lost and helpless to comprehend what was happening to her in so short a time. And with the cold edge of the tub against the base of her naked pink-sheened bottom, she was more conscious than ever of her unclothed availability to these five teen-aged boys, who, precisely because they were young, wouldn't be content with a single violation of her most intimate person.
At last she rose, her cheeks flaming from her guilty shame at having looked at her own private parts, stared again into the mirror and then resignedly walked to the door and opened it. The buzz of their voices stopped at once as they turned to watch her emerge. With her fingers, she had tried to comb her tumbled disheveled pageboy curls into some semblance of order, and the shimmering cascade caressingly kissed her bewitching shoulder blades and the soft quivering neck.
"Can I please-can I go to sleep now, Henry?" Throughout this seance, Christine Bernard had directed all her questions and petitions to the stocky youth who had initiated her into the priapic mysteries; now, subconsciously, she did so because she recognized him as the leader of these five young predatory males, and better than that, as the keenest intelligence of them, doubtless responsible for all of her ordeal.
"Not quite yet, Teach," he said with a sly chuckle. "Fair is fair, you know. But I've been talking to Bruce and Joey-they're last with you, you know. And they've agreed to have you take care of both of them at once. That'll save some time and you can get to sleep earlier. And we'll probably catch some shuteye till about noon tomorrow. But then we're going to wake you up real good, Chrissy baby."
She shrank back, once more her hand clamping over her mount, as her cheeks flamed to this not only distressing but obscenely terrifying news-two boys at once! But how was it possible, and what would they demand of her?
As if comprehending her unasked question, he glanced up and down at her till her blushes deepened and then said, "Well, Joey is sort of underage. So for his first time, he won't mind if you use your sweet little mouth on him. Then Bruce will just fuck you, but you can take care of both of them at the same time. I'll show you how. Don't get excited about it, no big production. You feel better now?"
"Oh, no-not both of them-but this is-you're making me a prostitute, Henry-oh, its unspeakable, degenerate-"
"Watch it, Teach!" he raised his voice warningly. "That's the old line of chatter you gave us, and it could cost youi ass a whaling, a real good and hard one. I told you it won't be hard. If I know Joey, he'll go off just about the second you get a good mouth-hold on his cock. Now get over to that mattiess, and you, Bruce, give Teach a cigarette and let her have a few puffs so she can settle herself down to the way it's going to be done."
She gasped aloud, her eyes staring at him as if she couldn't believe that so precociously endowed a youth existed, a boy who had been reticent in class and yet here in this basement took charge of her with ruthless knowledge of all her feelings and who seemed actually to revel in her gradual descent into the mire of degradation to which he was compelling her with each new nuance of compulsion.
Then she gasped again because Bruce Melton was stripping naked except for his socks, and taking a pack of cigarettes out of his jeans, lighting one for himself and another for her in his mouth at the same time, and then moving towards her with his lean sinewy lark-veined penis bobbing in the air as he approached, handing her one of the cigarettes.
She almost dropped it, having to stoop to catch it in midair, with a gasp of shamed embarrassment, and they saw her breasts jiggle and jounce in the most appetizing way, saw the thick dark-brown fleece of her pubis no longer shielded from their burning gaze. Hastily she moved over to the mattress, sat down to face the wall and with her back toward all of them, leaning forward and closing her eyes as she puffed at the cigarette. Again her mind was reeling, and she felt the flesh of her inner thighs twitching and the nipples of her breasts almost aching with a restless, hardening sensation that was inexplicable.
She knew the famous de Maupassant story about the French prostitute who had offered herself to the German officer to save all the other women during the Franco-Prussian War. She remembered-she had been sixteen at the time she had first read it-wondering how taxing and torturing it must be for a woman to have to submit to a man's rapacious lusts repeatedly throughout a single night, and how she had wondered-again with a guilty feeling over having such improper thoughts-how many actual times the man had raped that poor girl before he had been finished with her. Now, it seemed to Christine Bernard, she was living that story herself. And yet the singular thing was, the unbelievable thing was, that she didn't find it within herself to try to escape or to struggle or to fight then off. It seemed now that Henry's voice came to her out of a kind of void in which she, standing far apart from her real self, would make passive and yielding answer. And yet she, the real Christine Bernard, was powerless to intervene and tell her physical counterpart to deny these awful boys what they wished of her trembling naked body.
"I'm ready when you are, Chrissy baby," Bruce Melton said hoarsely, tossing the cigarette onto the floor and stamping it out with the heel of his socks-clad foot. "You don't have to get all naked, Joey, you're too young, haw haw! Just open your fly and get your cock out for Teach, Hank'll tell you what to do!"
Joey turned an embarrassed red and mumbled something about some guys being too snotty for their own good, but Henry Ferguson shook his head and whispered something to the youngest boy. Joey scowled, then nodded, and slowly opened and emerged a commendably stiff pale-skinned penis.
"You could have been a lot more in it if you hadn't jacked off, Joey," Henry Ferguson chuckled. "All right, Teach honey, now this is the way you're going to do it. Get on your hands and knees and spread those cute legs of yours. You're going to get it dog-fashion from Bruce, and Joey is going to stand up in front of you and feed you cock. You'll do it just the way you did with me, with that cute tongue and sucking it with your lips until you work him off. Understand?"
"Oh, this is disgraceful-oh, please-if I have to-if I have to do what you want-isn't one-one enough at a time-oh, please have mercy!" Christine Bernard's voice broke with anguished shame.
Careful, Teach, your ass is in danger from Bruce's belt!" Henry Ferguson warned, shaking a mock-warning finger.
Once again a violent blush of shame suffued those tear-wet lovely cheeks, then the bespectacled young woman uttered a groan of resignation and, bowing her head, dropped the cigarette to the floor, then got onto the mattress on her knees and crawled to its middle. Closing her eyes, planting her palms solidly, she crouched in an attitude of fearful waiting.
And yet, in the exquisite hollow of her lower back, which set off the almost impudently wanton thrust of her naked palpitating buttocks, there was a kind of fatalistic submissiveness to this pose, one at total variance with Christine Bernard's earlier attitude. It was perhaps a symbol of what had taken place, a regenerative development of her entire psyche and personality, through the magical medium of her own naked, quivering and finally tutelaged flesh.
Bruce Melton was fitting a condom over his stiffened weapon, while Joey, panting with ill-concealed excitement, stood with hands on hips, blushing self-consciously as the other boys winked at him.
Bruce Melton now knelt down on the mattress behind the naked young woman, reached out his lean strong fingers and cupped the dangling fruits of her shuddering bare breasts. She gave a startled little gasp, sucking in her breath nervously, and her body quivered voluptuously as she tightened-all her muscles. Perhaps instinctively, her knees shifted a little closer together, and it was Henry Ferguson now who had taken up the movie camera and was aiming it on this incredibly thrilling scene. Keeping his left hand on her left breast, Bruce Melton moved his right palm down her belly till he came at last to the thickly thatched apex of her femininity. Then his fingertips began to press lightly here and there all over the palpitating lips, and Christine Bernard uttered a stifled little sob and squirmed uneasily.
"You better tend to Joey, he hasn't got all the self-control all we other guys have," Henry Ferguson directed.
Chrisrine Bernard seemed to nod. Her face was flaming and her eyes were still closed as she groped for Joey's hips with her hands, and then lifted her face and opened her mouth. Henry Ferguson nodded to the excited youngster, who promptly arched himself forward till the tip of his organ passed between her parted, trembling rosy lips.
Again she uttered a gasp, which was muffled because of the obstruction of male flesh, and at the same moment Bruce Melton began to tickle her clitoris with his forefinger. Her eyes opened widely, a startled look dawned on her lovely, flushed and still tear-stained face. Her bottom bent, then arched up, then squirmed from side to side. Bruce Melton was massaging her left breast gently, and now his right forefinger had begun to tickle the rims of her vulva.
In the bathroom, Christine Bernard had sponged her vulva and also inserted a bit of the wet towel deep within the lips so as to eradicate the still smarting mentholated cream which had been used as lubricant for her further initiation into adolescent fornication with her as mature partner. Bur the warm and throbbing and persistent glow of that substance still lingered, and it, too, was responsible for the tremoring which surged along her hips and inner thighs, made her belly quake and shiver, and caused her to squirm involuntarily each time Bruce Melton's forefinger frictioned this or that sensitive spot in the most delicate orifice of her woman-being.
Joey wore no condom; it was the naked, turgid male organ which Christine Bernard's fastidious mouth now sucked upon, passively. Yet the wonder was that she accepted it at all without gagging and regurgitating-but that was what she did. Her eyes were closed once again, and her blushes were hotter than ever. Her fingernails had dug into the mattress to support herself, and the long lovely columns of her stockinged thighs bent inwards, jerked and shifted, sometimes yawning lewdly apart more than at the outset, sometimes tightening as Bruce Melton slyly continued the frigging of her now fully awakened and feverishly attuned love-center.
He could feel with his left hand the burgeoning of her nipplebud, its darkening hardness against his repeated touches. And the globe itself, heaving and shuddering against his palming caress, his gently squeezing fingers, told him that his beautiful mature victim-partner no longer found the touch of the male abhorrent to her tingling naked flesh.
Joey Elverson had begun to gasp and groan, to squirm about, as Christine Bernard's warm moist mouth dutifully sucked.
"Use your tongue too, Teach!" Henry Ferguson counseled as he aimed the camera from the side to take in Christine's beautiful face in profile and then pass to the obscenely thrilling cohesion between young Joey Elverson's rampant sex organ and that adorable, pursed and palpitating rosy female mouth.
But the constant tickling of her vulva now became enervating to the naked bespectacled young woman. Her hips had begun to jerk about convulsively and involuntarily, and her bottom sometimes lowered almost to her heels, only to jerk upwards with a kind of sporadic suddeness, then weave from side to side. The cheeks of her behind, too, were in constant mobility: rippling surges of neural spasms raced along the succulent rounds from base to hipslopes, and the mysterious groove between those luscious globes of womanflesh yawned and then narrowed in the most thrilling maneuvers.
And then Bruce Melton touched the lodestone of her clitoris, rubbing it very delicately and slowly, then pushed it vigorously back into its hiding place, held his finger on that button for an endless moment, and the reelased it to spring forth, turgifying and darkening with the afflux of love-blood.
"Ohh-mmff-aaahhh-mmmfff-ohuuuu-aaahhhh!!!" Christine Bernard's eyes rolled, her nostrils contracted spasmodically, and her breasts heaved wildly, her back hollowing violently. Her stockinged toes twisted and dug at the mattress, threatening to tear through the beige nylons in her neural agitation.
The moment had come, as Henry Ferguson now signified by making a circle of his left thumb and forefinger while he continued to operate the movie camera with his other hand.
Bruce Melton drew back his left hand, planted it on the edge of Christine Bernard's left hip, and then arched himself till he could feel his sheathed weapon press its menacingly pointed tip right against the gaping moist petals of her twitching cleft.
His right forefinger continued now to tickle her clitoris, as with a sudden jab, he entered half his virility inside her quaking vaginal canal.
Her eyes rolled to the whites, she tried to twist her face away, but she still had Joey Elverson's penis clutched between her panting lips, and then suddenly the boy uttered a cry of ecstasy, cupped the sides of her flushed face with his hands, and tilted back his head as he gave up all his essence into her panting mouth. She hadn't been prepared for this, and she gagged and choked! but at this moment, Bruce Melton thrust home to the very testicles and then reached with his left hand for her panting left breast to squeeze and fondle it as he continued to linger deep within her quaking burrow.
Henry Ferguson made a sign, and Joey Elverson now fumbled in his jeans' pocket for a handkerchief and mopped Christine's stickied mouth and nostrils. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she kept her eyes tightly shut. Even her dainty earlobes were red with shame.
But now she no longer had time for shame, only for sensation. His right forefinger pressing and rubbing her turgifying love-button, Bruce Melton began to thrust in and out with deep pronging strokes, and her body vibrated and jerked and quaked to each of them. Her hips jostled against his belly, squirming and weaving, trying sometimes to lower to her heels, but his fleshy harpoon maintained her in position.
And even as Joey finished cleansing her mouth from this her first swallowing communion with male life-juice, she suddenly tilted back her head and uttered a wild cry, wordless, inchoate.
Then she collapsed, Bruce Melton atop her, as with the last rampant charge he drove himself to the hilt and felt himself explode within her. Her fingers clawed at the mattress, her face twisted from side to side, and then she sprawled inert, panting and whimpering. Again, nature had taken over intellect in the quivering naked flesh of Christine Bernard!