Chapter 3
"Oh, no-please-H-Henry, you know this is shameful-certainly an intelligent boy like you isn't going to be party to this dreadful thing-" Christine Bernard stammered, shrinking back in the armchair.
"You're pretty slow on the uptake, Teach," the stocky teen-ager taunted as he squatted down and ran his palms over both her stockinged calves, from ankles up to the knee hollows. His eyes fixed greedily on the rumpled blue rayon skirt, trying to see the mysterious and as yet veiled contours of her thighs.
Frantic with shame and embarrassment, the bespectacled young woman clutched her legs together and twisted herself to one side, only to see the other four boys standing beside the table watching intently. Joey, the youngest and the only one besides Henry as yet unmasked, called out, "Get with it, Hank! We're all raring to go with Teach."
"You see, Teach?" Henry Ferguson resumed in a condescending tone that made the mature and beautiful victim even more dreadfully aware that this wasn't a practical joke, "you aren't in class anymore. All the guys except Joey are your own pupils. We're not worried about your finding out our names because, as Joey just told you, we're going to have those nice movies of you cooperating with us when you start fucking."
"Oh, don't talk like that! How in God's name could you have thought of such a horrible thing? You know it's criminal, Henry-I remember your work very well, you've always been so proper and nice in class, you've always done such good work-how could you be a part of an awful idea like this? Why, this is kidnapping and worse-these ropes are hurting me, please, Henry, I beg of you, in the name of reason and decency, don't let them do this to me-save me!"
"No reason to fight like that, Teach," the youth blandly replied, his hands still caressing her squirming, tensing calves despite her frantic efforts to jerk her legs away from his profaning touches. "We got lots of Trojans-safes to you, Teach!-so you don't have to worry about getting a baby from all the fucking you're going to dish out to us guys."
"Oh, Henry, don't talk like that-if you only knew-Henry, I'm appealing to you-I-I don't go out with boys, I've never done anything to give you any reason to think I'm this sort of person-and I still can't believe you wrote that theme-it's not like your style at all-"
"Oh, you liked it, huh, Teach?" he. grinned and winked at her. "I guess I have to tell the truth right now, and I did get some help with it. If you really want to know, it was my uncle-he does a lot of writing for a living anyway, and he owns this building. That's why we came here, so nobody's going to disturb us all through the weekend. You can just have all the fun you want, we won't snitch if you're a good sweet cooperative bitch, Teach. But make up your mind to it, you're going to put out even if we have to make you, understand?"
"Oh, no! Please, Henry!" The bespectacled young woman leaned forward and, nervously glancing at the other four youths, whispered hoarsely, "Henry, please save me-I'm begging you, please! I promise I won't say a word to the authorities if you help me get away! I-I told you I'm not that sort of a person-I've never had a man-please respect me-have pity, don't let them do this dreadful thing to me, Henry! I always looked on you as one of my best students-"
"I haven't any kick coming on that score, Teach," he slyly interrupted, pinching her calves and making her squeal and sob as she again tried to twist away from his tactual indignities. "You always did give me either an E or a G plus, I have to hand it to you. I'm not mad at you, Teach, I just want to fuck you, that's all. I can't put it any plainer than that, can I? Now, if I untie you, are you going to promise to be a good little bitch and take off all your clothes and go over there on the mattress and get ready for your shagging? We'll give you plenty of rest between fucks, Teach. We've got all the time in the world till Monday morning, so you don't have to worry about getting honked out or roughed up-unless you give us any trouble. Then we'll just have to make you come across, understand?"
Now there could be no further doubt of their intention. Again she shrank back, her magnificent breasts rising and falling tumultuously, her eyes glassy and huge behind the harlequin glasses, her throat choked with terror and shame, so that she could hardly utter a sound. And Henry Ferguson's hands still kept fondling her ankles and calves, while he stared at her huddled knees as if longing to look under the skirt and slip and see the hidden treasures beyond onto the mysterious, tempting core of her virginal femininity itself!
"I tell you what, Teach, there's just one outside chance, if you want to take it," Henry Ferguson proposed. Now his hands had reached the dimpled curves of both knees, as Christine wildly twisted this way and that to disengage his profaning grasp.
"Oh, my God-please take your hands off me, Henry-this is wrong, you know it's wrong-it's shameful-you-you're old enough to understand you can't f-force me-a woman to do-what you want-oh please tell them that-I can't-I'd rather die-don't you understand-I've never had a man, I'm not a-a prostitute-I'm a decent woman, your teacher, Henry-oh please, please understand and make them understand too, I'm begging you!"
"Come on, Hank, get with it!" the tall wiry boy impatiently called out. "Need some help peeling her down?"
"Oh, no, don't let him touch me, Henry, please don't!" Christine almost shrieked, cowering back in the chair and staring with mounting terror as the youth ambled, hands on his jeans pockets, towards the chair.
"Maybe she'd feel more like dishing it out if she knew who we were, Hank," the youth chuckled as he drew off his stocking mask. "Hiya, Teach baby. Recognize me? I'm a C student of yours, you ought to know that."
It was the nineteen-year-old light-brown haired youth whom she knew by the name of Ben Elverson, who had the annoying habit of whispering to his crony across the aisle and giving her suspiciously leering looks during many a classroom session. Christine turned a furious red at this uncouth suggestion, and once again, with her very soul in her eyes, stared piteously at Henry Ferguson in a desperate attempt to obtain some kind of reprieve from the atrocious destiny she now understood awaited her.
"Meet my kid brother Joey," Ben Elverson drawled as he jerked his thumb towards the bespectacled youth. "That was my buck I gave him to give your cabbie, Christine baby, and I'm going to take it out in trade, see if I don't. Come on, Hank, are you gonna take all night to shag this cute little bitch? Why don't we just strip her down, get her over on the mattress and all of us give it to her?"
"Oh, my God-oh, no, I don't want you to-oh, please, have mercy-Henry, Henry, save me, please save me from them!" Christine Bernard wailed, in a state of near-hysteria. Desperately she wrenched at her bound wrists and ankles, but could make not the slightest headway against those expertly tied pinions.
Meanwhile, the two other boys pulled off their stocking masks also, and Christine, through her tear-blurred, dilated eyes, recognized the eighteen year-old Mack Benjamin and the seventeen-year-old black-haired Bruce Melton, both of them barely passing students in her English class and both given to boasting about their female conquests, sometimes in her very hearing as she stood at the desk while the pupils, breaking into groups and clusters, gossiping and talking about dates and future pleasures, slowly exited from the room.
Meanwhile Joey Elverson had gone to the other end of the windowless room to pick up the movie camera and prepare it for use; now he leaned back against the wall, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, taking in the scene with avid interest.
Tears running down her cheeks, her face flaming to the hair roots, Christine Bernard stared hopelessly at the smirking youth who still squatted before her, his pudgy fingers gliding slowly up and down her nylon-sheathed, quivering and tensing calves. "Oh, Henry, for God's sake, don't torture me like this-don't let them do this to me-I don't want them to-don't you understand-I never have-never, never, I wouldn't until I got married-please make them understand-"
"That won't do any good, Teach," he impatiently shook his head. Now his hands moved again to cup the dimpled curves of her stockinged knees, and this time edged just under her skirt and petticoat. A piercing shriek attested to Christine Bernard's frantic shame, and once again she twisted in the chair to avert this catastrophe.
"No, 'fraid not, Teach. You see," he resumed, choosing his words and savoring each of them as he stared up into her tear-stained, stricken, exquisite face, "this is today, not the ancient times you've been telling us about in class, Teach. Maybe when a girl had a cherry back in those days, it was a matter of life or death for her to save it. But not today, not with the pill and safes and all that sort of stuff. And it's not as if we didn't know how to take care of a broad like you, Teach. If you read that theme I handed in, you ought to have got a pretty good idea that I know how to shag a girl and make her love it. Now, you better make up your mind real fast, because the other guys are getting horny and impatient. Are you going to get up and take off all your clothes like we tell you to, or do we have to rip them off and give it to you the hard way-and I do mean hard!"
His cronies guffawed lubricously as they overheard this salacious pun, but poor Christine Bernard could only cower in the chair and stare at him with incredulous, hopeless eyes, her trembling lips forming the pathetic words, "Oh, please, no, don't-oh, please d-don't!"
"I'll give you just one chance. Maybe I can talk the guys out of it. After all, I was the one that had the idea-with a little help that you don't have to know about-and I found us a place so no one can bother us while we're having fun and games, Teach. Now suppose you were to do a striptease and spread just for me, maybe they would see you're going to cooperate and wouldn't want to pull a train on you. In case you don't know what a train is, Teach, it's sort of used in the leather gangs out on the West Coast where a new broad has to let all the guys fuck her before they take her in as a member. Understand?"
"Oh, no-oh, I'd rather die-I can't-I couldn't do such a thing-please-please don't hurr me-don't make me-oh, my God!" She burst into tears and bowed her head, her magnificent breasts heaving wildly with the wracking sobs of her atrocious dilemma and despair.
"You better hurry, Teach," he whispered again, and this time his hands slid under her skirt and petticoat to go halfway up her thighs. Even as she squealed frantically and lunged this way and that, trying to pull away from his caresses, he insisted, "I mean it, Teach! I can talk them out of all shagging you if you'll just put on a show for me and let them watch. That's your only way out, Teach, I mean it! If you don't come across with me, I won't be able to talk them out of ripping off all your duds and tieing you down on that mattress and making you take us all without any time off at all, get it? Hurry up now, what's your choice?"
For the first time in her virginal mature life, beautiful bespectacled Christine Bernard was faced with an insoluble dilemma, one which entailed not only the most terrifying moral nuances bur also an absolute physical abhorence of what was intended for her. Already, having just experienced the very first sexual manifestation from the man she had agreed to marry and finding it distasteful to her, pampered and sheltered virgin that she had been for so long, she now comprehended that what she wouldn't yield of her own volition, she would most likely be compelled to submit to by sheer brute young animal force.
"Hurry up now," he angrily urged, pinching the soft inner curves of her stockinged thighs, very hear the welt and where the tabs of her garrerbelt tenaciously clamped to hold those nylon sheaths without wrinkle on her delectably curvaceous legs.
"Ouch-oh, don't do that-oh, Henry, my God, Henry, how can I-you don't know what you're asking of me-oh, my God, don't let them touch me-don't let them hurt me-I-I'm afraid-" she could only whimper, her eyes rolling, sweat mingling with her tears as the agonized torment of her situation fully annihilated all her will.
Before the terrible threat of gang rape, her haughty, autocratic egoism had vanished; she was now a classic model of femininity at bay, confronted by the dreadful and ominous Scylla and Charybdis of surrender to the inevitable however much loathed or innumerable acts of sexual violence and degradation which could only contaminate her flesh as they destroyed her narcissistic pampered spirit.
"Well, what's it gonna me, Teach?" Henry Ferguson leaned forward towards the bound, seated victim, his hands sliding forward till they reached the welt on her sheer nylons, till Christine Bernard could feel his moist warm fingertips rub over the bare pink-and-white skin of her upper thighs. In a frenzy of shame and fright, she stiffened all her muscles in furious revolt, uttering a piercing cry, "Ohh, my G-God, oh take your hands away, Henry, don't do it to me, don't!"
But at the same moment the other four boys now moved towards the chair, surrounding her, and she could read on their leering faces only the inevitable and ruthless determination of their male rut. She was about to cross the Rubicon of degradation, a plaything-puppet for the precociously depraved desires of five teen-aged boys.
"Oh, wait, for God's sake, don't let them get me, H-Henry-if-if I do what you want-will you promise-will you make them stay away and not t-t-touch me?" she babbled in her stricken fright.
"Lemme talk to the guys and see, Christine baby. Trouble is, you waited too long to make your pick and now you got them all hot and bothered by now." Henry Ferguson straightened, turned to his cronies and winked, "Now look, guys, Chrissy here, you heard her, says she's never had a guy. You know how cherry is, touchy and squirmy and scared. Now suppose since I drew first turn with Chrissy anyway, she does what I tell her to and puts on a real nice sexy show for you guys. How about letting her off? We'll still take the movies and the Polaroids, and we'll all have prints and copies so we'll know what Teach is like in bed. After all, I'm here to tell you that a piece of cherry isn't always the best kind of lay. She'll be too scared to give you guys a real fucking, 'cause she's afraid you'll rough her up and hurt her. But if she does it with me and is real nice, what about giving her a break?"
"I don't know now," Mack shook his head dubiously, "we figured she'd put out for all of us guys, that was the deal when you talked about it, Hank."
"Yeah, it sure was," Bruce put in as he lit a cigarette.
"Well, you guys could feel her up and kiss her and stuff like that, and don't worry, I'll keep her busy till we let her go," Henry Ferguson boasted. "But look at it from her side for a change. How old are you, Teach, anyhow?"
Christine Bernard had listened to all this with mounting horror, for the nightmare had become even more fantastic and incredible. She faltered now, turning scarlet again and averting her face, "T-Twenty-five. Oh, please, please don't let them get me, please, Henry."
"You heard her, you guys. Just think, she's kept her cherry twenty-five years. Now it's going to take a big effort on Chrissy's part to make her break down and put out to me. And if I hadn't thought this scheme up and found this place, you guys would never have had a chance to see the show Chrissy and I are going to put on for you now. So what about it?"
"Well, we really don't want to get into trouble or go to jail over this cute piece of tail," Mack grudgingly agreed.
"All right, Hank, but she's gotta do whatever you want, or else we take over," Bruce warned.
"You hear that, Teach?" Henry Ferguson rose and, hands on hips, stared down at the trembling bespectacled young woman. "You've gotta do whatever I want, and no tricks, or the rest of the guys will really shag you good. Is it a deal? You behave, and they won't give it to you, just me. Well? Come on, you haven't got any more time to think. What's it to be, me or the gang?"
Trembling so violently that her teeth were chattering, Christine Bernard, her eyes tightly closed, panted out, "I-I'll take you, Henry, if you'll only keep them away from me. I-I'll do what you want-only please-please be g-gentle with me-I never have-oh, I'm so ashamed, I wish I could die!"
And then, bowing her head, she burst into hysterical sobs as the quintet of would-be rapists surrounded her, greedily eyeing her, each boy with his own special lust-image evoked by the sight of her helpless, vulnerable and virginal beauty.