Chapter 13
They had let Christine Bernard go to the bathroom and wash up after her final bout with Bruce and Joey, and then sleep under one of the blankets on the mattress which had been her bed of sexual initiation. Henry Ferguson had instructed Joey to scout the neighborhood the next morning to find a place where they could buy some food to take out, so that they could have breakfast and probably lunch. The drive-in, of course, was always available for hamburgers as a last resort.
Their lovely captive, who had removed her harlequin glasses but retained the garterbelt and hose, slept fitfully through the night. First turning onto her right side with her face to the wall and away from the five youths who had had carnal knowledge of her voluptuous pink-and-white sheened body, she had eventually moved over onto her back, then onto her left side. At times, whimpering gasps and little moans and hardly intelligible words escaped her soft lips, for she was dreaming. And what she was dreaming was the phantasmagoria-story of that unbelievable theme which had begun this incredible psycho of transformation from shrinking demi-vierge to warmly responsive naked female who couldn't suppress the urgencies of her vibrant young body when attuned by these virile young males.
She dreamed again that she was enthroned and alone in her castle, when the flaming torches were suddenly extinguished and the door swung open and the masked knight entered with drawn sword. Once again she seemed to feel herself pulled down from the throne and hoisted over his shoulder, borne out to his waiting white stallion and then delivered into the hands of the grim though sensually beautiful Amazonian wardresses of his own castle on that far distant hill.
And then the realism of this dream-fantasy in which she found herself on tiptoes, shackled and in the thick blackness of night and the dungeon awaiting the will of her unknown captor, took hold of her innate being.
"Oh, please," she murmured faintly as in her dreams she heard the dungeon door creak open. And her body shivered and flinched as she thought of the silken whip he would be carrying as he entered for this seance with her helpless nakedness.
But its first touch was strangely benign, even delightful, on her naked skin. She could feel it moving about her, gliding over her breasts and then her belly, leaping to the tender inner columns of her quivering thighs. And then a sudden stinging pain in both her thighs made her blink her eyelids and open her eyes to wakefulness-and to see Henry Ferguson smilingly mounted atop her, his hands stroking her abdomen and tender groin but not yet touching the tender aperture of her exquisite quim.
"Ohh-Henry-I thought-I was dreaming-ohh my goodness-"
"I woke you up by snapping the tabs of your garterbelt, Chrissy," he muttered softly, "Joey is out getting your breakfast, and the other guys have gone for a walk because it's kind of stuffy in this basement. So we'te all alone, Teach. Now what were you dreaming?"
Now she could feel his sheathed penis at the entryway to her Venus, and she uttered a squeal and squirmed nervously, blushing to her lovely throat.
"Come on, tell me, or I'll take you over my lap and paddle ass till you do, Teach," he huskily hinted. His fingers moved under her buttocks, caressing them gently, and the touch, now far from revolting her, made her quiver with a strange wakening urgency that tightened all her subtle feminine nerves along that complex network of thighs and groin and love-temple and belly and bosom, all the exquisitely united erogenous zones which can be roused in a passionate female only by a knowing and patient male.
"Please don't," she breathed, turning her face to the wall and half-pushing at him with her soft little hands.
"Please don't what? Paddle ass or fuck you, Chrissy?"
"Don't-don't sp--spank me, please don't-please be gentle with me-oh, I never knew such a boy-haven't you done enough to me?"
"Careful now, Chrissy, you're on dangerous territory when you start talking like you used to-"
"The way you used to," she automatically corrected, then exhaled a deep breath and again looked away, dropping her hands and pressing her fingertips hard against the mattress.
"That's my Teach, all right," he grinned wolfishly. "All right, I take it you don't want to start a brand-new Sunday with a spanking, so I'll just go ahead and fuck you, Chrissy. Now put your sweet legs up, knees way up in the air, and spread them as far apart as you can get them. I'm going to do it nice and slow and easy, and you'll be amazed how much you'll like it now that you haven't got a cherry to bother with anymore. Don't worry, I've taken care of things, there won't be any consequences."
"My goodness-where in the world-how did you ever learn these things-you're only seventeen-"
"I've got a pretty high I.Q., Teach, if you'd bother to look up the records in Dean Munson's office. And I've got an awfully smart uncle who has had lots of girls. I was a perfect drip when I started high school, that's why I'm still pretty young to be in junior college. But when I started getting advice from Uncle Dan, he showed me that I could still crack my books and crack a girl's crack, if you know what I mean."
"You're just awful to talk that way!" she gasped, scarlet-faced.
"Then let's not talk at all, let's just fuck, Teach," he chuckled softly as he leaned forward and slithered his tongue around her earlobe and into the dainty little hole of her left ear.
Christine Bernard squealed and squirmed, put up her hands to repel him, but agilely he pressed the tip of his condom-sheathed penis between the twitching and already moistened lips of her exquisite vulva and settled himself over her. And the miracle was that without being bidden a second time, Christine Bernard's stockinged knees rose up and spread well beyond each side of him, giving him delicious and total entry to her love-channel.
"Please, please promise me-you-you and those others won't talk about this at school, please, that's all I ask," she whispered as she kept her case still turned to the wall, but now her fingertips had pressed agitatedly against his shoulders as she felt him sink slowly and completely into her till he was grinding belly to belly and his hands were squeezing her panting round bare breasts.
"You still going to call the cops when you get out of here, Chrissy " he whispered into her ear as he leaned still more forward over her shivering, quivering naked body.
"N-no-but oh, for God's sake, I want you to promise that you won't show those awful movies and snapshots of me around, not to anybody-please, Henry, can you talk the b-boys out of keeping them and not making copies, please?"
"I might. Depends on how nice you are to me right now. Nobody's around and we've got a good five or ten minutes, so just shut up and let's see how much you've learned since last night, Teach," he chuckled again and once more sent his tongue darting into her dainty earhole.
Christine Bernard squealed and squirmed again, and he could feel her convulsively digging fingernails into his bare back. He was naked except for socks, and he could already feel the contractions of her, vaginal walls responding to the imbedded, immobilized structure of his ferocious turgid spear.
"Does it hurt anymore?"
"N-no-not too much-it still is awfully sensitive-please t-take it easy with me-" she whispered, and her face was still averted from his. It was furiously scarlet, also, for to have to discuss these matters while being weighted down by a naked boy whose penis was hiked inside her twitching vaginal sheath while she accepted him as a kind of Price Charming who had awakened her from her fitful sleep to take her now in this lewd costume of garterbelt and hose was supremely embarrassing and without precedent in her lexicon.
"Then suppose you give me a nice sweet kiss to show we're friends, Teach," he urged.
His hands slipped down to glide under her buttocks and to grip and squeeze them, kneading the resilient summits, moving down to the succulent satiny base, feeling her shivering and weaving gurations against his libidinous touches which signified such complete possession of her naked body.
She still didn't open her eyes, but obediently turned her face and proffered her mouth. His mouth came down on hers, and again he felt the tightening of her fingers digging into his bare shoulders. And then he began the age-old rhythm of love-friction, of penis to attuned and now willing vaginal cleft.
As he drew back to the very brink of her love temple, Christine Bernard's body jerked and twitched, for now she could no longer control the responses of her treacherous and totally wakened womanflesh. And that was why she kept her eyes so tightly shut that she might not look upon her own downfall from that vaunted pedestal of attainability. She was no longer the haughty teacher who could contemptuously wither an impertinent pupil with a single look. She had become a palpitating, naked harlot who could be wakened by any male wise enough to know the foreplay and the byplay by which her autocratic veneer could be stripped from her like her own clothes to render her at last a woman whose flesh was honest even if her will and mind weren't.
His thrusts became shorter and quicker now, as he felt her tremoring, her hips weaving erotically; and then, to vary the act, as well as the sensations, he halted himself and ground his teeth to hold back the jut of life-fluid. Christine was perspiring, her knees jerked to and fro on either side of him, and he could feel her lovely warm satiny bottom-cheeks contract and squirm against his digging fingers.
Now, keeping his left forefinger aimed at the sinuous shadowy groove between her bottomglobes, he directed his right forefinger to the rims of her engorged quim, tickling the outer petals, while she gasped and writhed. His forefinger moved above his penis now to touch her clitoris, and her body arched like a bow. At that exact moment, his other forefinger found her anal rosette and just delicately prodded inside the clenching, spasming lips.
"Oh, please-oohh-H-Henry-it's just shameful to do that to me-oooh-you're making me feel so-oh, Henry-aahhh-oh, Henry-oh, I can't stand it-oh, please-do something-aaah!" she wailed. She raked at his shoulders with her fingernails now, her face twisting from side to side, then tilting back with her eyes bulging and fixing on the ceiling overhead. He began to thrust hard and fast now again, edging his forefinger deep into her rectal passage, feeling her bottomcheeks clench to rep. 1 and yet paradoxically yawning to invite even deeper pillaging of that second temple of carnal delight.
Working both her clitoris and his other forefinger as he did his delving penis, Henry Ferguson once again drew Christine Bernard into feverish, uninhibited and uncontrollable upheaval, till her piercing cry announced a further downfall from the prudish grace of chastity.
"Oh-what must you think of me-I'm so ashamed of myself-I know I'm going to have to resign my job tomorrow H-Henry," she confessed in a trembling whisper when at last she had regained consciousness after that sweet black Lethe which is the momentary oblivion that comes with supreme orgasm.
"I don't think so. But I'd take my Uncle Dan's advice if I were you, Chrissy."
"Bur I've never even met your uncle."
"You will, baby, you will indeed. And now to answer your other question, no, I'll see to it that those movies and those Polaroids don't get into circulation. I think I can talk the guys into letting me have them all-if it wasn't for me, they wouldn't have had their fun. But there's something else."
"Wh-what-what else do I have to do?" she gasped, again blushing violently and keeping her face hidden from him. But it was perhaps significant that her arms still were hooked round his neck and that her thighs, in that last moment of frantic cohesion, had locked tightly over his thighs and buttocks and had still not receded as she now clung to him, his limpened organ still deep within her still quaking womb.
"You remember what I did to you after the spanking and the blow job, Teach?"
"Oh-y-oh, yes, oh, my G-God, I won't ever forget that-it hurt-it was so awful-why-it made me feel like an animal-oh, please-it was just like when your finger-oh, Henry-what have you made of me?"
"A sweet piece of cunt, that's what, Teach. Only that's between us. But that's what I was getting at-your cute little brownie. You didn't mind just now when I put my finger in there when I was fucking you, did you? Come on now, don't turn your face away and don't blush and don't keep quiet, or I'll really spank ass till it's raw!" he playfully threatened, squeezing her buttocks to emphasize the menace.
"N-no," she confessed in a tiny whisper that only he could hear.
He grinned. "I thought not. Well, Chrissy, if you want to earn getting back those movies and getting our promise that nobody's ever going to mention what happened this weekend, then you've gotta let me do it to you without being tied down, in front of the other guys. And I'm afraid you're gonna have to give them one last banging, because they're hot for you, Teach. Is it a deal?"
"I don't-I don't know how I can help myself with five of you against me. I'm just begging you please not to hurt me-please be nice-and that you will keep your word about the pictures-please!" he heard her whisper in a breaking, trembling little-girl voice.
It was five o'clock on that Sunday afternoon when Christine Bernard was finally allowed to go to the bathroom for the last time and then to put back on her panties and bra, her slip and the blue rayon dress which she had worn to keep her mysterious rendezvous. Her eyes were warm and humid, and the selfish curl of her mouth had given way to a shy, tremulous smile. She couldn't help blushing, though, as she shook hands with all five of her ravishers and abductors, Henry Ferguson last of all. And she blushed most of all when their fingers lingered together and he whispered into her ear, "You'll meet Uncle Dan sooner than you think, Teach. And the guys have agreed that I can turn all the films and snapshots over to him."
"Oh, my goodnes gracious-but that's just awful-he-"
"Don't worry, it'll all work out. You were a terrific piece, Teach. See you tomorrow afternoon in class. And when you look at us, you won't even recall that we gave you a hard time-and I do mean hard. There's your cab, I think-yeah. Well, don't be late to class tomorrow, Teach baby!"
Her cheeks burning, she opened the door of the basement through which she had been brought as a captive for violation and degradation, and walked out into the open air. It was sunny and warm, foretelling that a bright new day would perhaps-
She got into the cab and in a low husky voice, without looking at the driver, gave her address. The driver shook his head; it was a long haul and an expensive one. Seeing his hesitation, she stammered, "Don't worry, I've got money, and I live at that apartment. Please, I'm in a hurry to go home."
As he turned off onto the freeway, Christine Bernard leaned back and closed her eyes, trembling violently in aftermath of all that had taken place since her being wakened this Sunday morning as she had never dreamed anyone would waken her, perhaps not even as a bride. For Henry Ferguson had induced her to accept the amorous wooing of first Ben and then Bruce and then Mack and finally young Joey. And Joey, trembling with ecstasy and wonder, mounting between her widened thighs, had acquitted himself like i. real man deeply and satisfyingly within her love-canal.
But as a finale, Christine Bernard had willingly bent over the table without being held down, had reached back her own soft hands and pulled apart the quivering globes of her voluptuous naked bottom. A double blanket had been put just under her lower abdomen to arch up her buttocks and thus elevate her dainty anal rosette at the ideal angle for amorous penetration.
It had been very different this time! She gasped and blushed again as she thought of it, her body rocking to the movement of the cab swiftly speeding down the freeway. Henry had sent Joey to a drugstore not far away for some cold cream, and he had first aointed the lips of her anus and then well inside with the cool lubricant. Then he had greased his own organ, and then very gently begun to insert it while his right forefinger tickled her clitoris and his left the rims of her vulva and the crinkly outer labia of her sex. She had grabbed the front ends of the table and closed her eyes tightly, arching herself, her leg muscles rippling violently. And to her intense surprise, she had begun to gasp and moan, thinking that after all the sex she had had to yield to she would be exhausted by then, yet finding an incredible new vibrancy within her entire being,-thanks to his multiple manipulations of her tenderest nooks.
And when at last she had felt the splash of his hot semen deep into her bowels, she had bucked and twisted and writhed over the table, sobbing out broken phrases, even using some of their own vulgar words like "F-fuck me-oh, please do it, fuck me h-hard, Henry!"
What would she do now? How could she possibly go back to class tomorrow? She would have to leave town, find another job. She couldn't trust herself to look into their eyes and to know what they knew about her and what she had learned about herself!
"I guess this is it, lady," the bearded cab driver turned back to Christine Bernard, bringing her sharply out of her strange, almost dazed reverie.
"Oh-yes-this is fine, driver. Th-thank you. Here you are." She opened her purse and paid him, tipping him generously. Gallantly, somewhat to her surprise, he got out of the cab and opened the door for her. She stammered another faint thanks and then moved quickly towards the vestibule door of her apartment building.
As she opened the door, the inner lobby door opened and she recognized the tall black-haired man who was her first floor neighbor.
"Miss Bernard? I saw you come in just now, and I thought maybe you'd like a drink."
"Oh no-th-thank you-I-I've been away for the weekend-and-I'm tired."
"I didn't mean to force myself on you, Miss Bernard. But you do happen to be my nephew's English Literature teacher, and he's talked so much about you-"
Christine Bernard stared at him, her mouth agape. Then a violent blush began to spread on her exquisite face, and her eyes to blink and mist and widen behind the provocative harlequin glasses. "You-you-you're-D-oh no!"
"That's right, Christine," he was smiling almost paternally at her as he took her elbow and held the inner lobby door open for her. "Henry Ferguson is my nephew. Come in, you need a drink, a good stiff one."
"But-oh, my God-then you-"
As she entered his living room, she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at an electric typewriter in prominence on a large secretary writing desk at the wall to her left. Then her eyes slowly turned to fix his virile, sardonic face, and to see his steely gray-blue eyes regarding her with a twinkle of amusement, his thin sensuous lips curved in a sardonic smile. "It was you-that theme-"
"That's right, Chrissy," he murmured, leading her over to a wide leather padded sofa and gently pushing her down. "I'll get you that drink."
She was dazed, she was in a dream, her legs were too weak to move, and so all she could do was sit there and wait while he came back with two glasses filled with bourbon and ginger ale, handed one to her, then sat down beside her.
"It was you-you wrote the theme--you-you had them do all this-" she said in a voice that wasn't her own, dreamy and contemplative as if it were this other person all the time, the one that responded to their voracious young desires in that windowless basement for what had been an eternity and a new life.
"Yes, that's true. I happen to be a novelist, Chrissy. Also, I teach English Literature too. I've been taking a sabbatical for about a year doing a novel which I've just finished. But I've got a job this fall teaching at a junior college in Denver, at a very good salary. And as a matter-of-fact I'll need an assistant. What would you think of going there with me?"
Again her jaw dropped, and she stared at him as if she could not believe her ears.
"As my wife, of course, after a proper courtship and engagement period," he chuckled. His left arm went round her waist, he took her glass from her and set it down on the coffee table beside them. Then, cupping her face, he kissed her very gently on the lips.
Christine moaned, but there was a fluttering in her thighs and in her sex and a hardening of her nipples even as she could not, would not, dare not believe what was happening.
"Henry will bring the movies and the Polaroids later tonight. He'll be going with me to Denver, and of course will be in my class. Or," his eyes were whimsical again, "in yours, if you like, Chrissy."
"Then it was you-who told him all those things to do-and he told all those boys-and that's why-oh, my God-" she gasped faintly, and then hid her blushing face against his chest.
She felt his other hand creep under her skirt and slip, caressingly stroking her trembling thighs. And she felt the lips of her vulva twitch and moisten, treacherously betraying her once again. Always again now, for Christine Bernard had come out of the crucible of this lottery of lust into a knowledge of what she needed and must have to be the woman she had been destined to be from the very beginning.