Chapter 4
Henry Ferguson now took charge as master of ceremonies of the initiation of beautiful mature Christine Bernard. Turning to the four others, he announced triumphantly, "Okay, you heard her, she's going to act real nice just for me. You guys can watch, and we'll give Teach a break. I gave my word you wouldn't fool around if she put on a nice hot show just for me and that's the way it's going to be, understood?"
"Sure, get on with it," Ben Elverson impatiently urged, one hand surreptitiously rubbing his already swollen crotch. "Make her do a nice slow striptease, Hank. And no tricks, Teach, or you get laid by all us guys, savvy?"
Crushed, violently trembling, the bespectacled young woman could only nod helplessly as she comprehended the atrocious alternative which had been granted to her. Either to be the prey of all of them, to suffer their crude, rough mauling and violation, or to surrender, seemingly of her own free will, to this one precocious boy who unexpectedly had conjured up this nightmarish capture and incarceration in a windowless basement far on the outskirts of town with no one to help her.
And yet the thought of having to undress before all of them, to submit herself even to just one of them out of five, was almost agonized anathema for virginal, fearful Christine Bernard. If her dazed and bewildered mind could grope forward to any thought now other than what impended, she might have told herself how much better it would have been to have yielded to Henry Brandt and let him taste in advance the pleasures of a nuptial night rather than endure this odious, degrading martyrdom of her virginal, hitherto untouched, voluptuous body by these boys who had just emerged out of puberty and yet lusted for her even more audaciously than her own mature fiance. But all she could do, tormented by the sudden impatient silence which had fallen on this basement chamber, was to look up slowly and stare through eyes almost blinded by her own tears at the grinning face of Henry Ferguson who now took masterful charge of her. "I-I beg of you, H-Henry," she managed to quaver, "won't it be enough if-if I do-do what you want and you make them go away? You don't know how dreadful it is, to think of-to think of their watching while-oh, God, Henry, have pity on me, please have pity!"
"Look out now, Chrissy," Henry Ferguson mockingly warned, "you made a bargain and you're going to keep it. Otherwise, I won't be able to hold them off, understand? Now stand up. I'm going to untie you, but just your arms, so you can start taking off your clothes real nice and easy. Sure, they're going to watch. They're in on this, and they deserve some fun for the trouble and the danger. Make up your mind to it, Chrissy, it's that or you're going to take them on in turn just like they cut for deal. Now what's it going to be?"
So saying, he reached down, put his fingers into her tender armpits and hauled her to her feet. Christine Bernard uttered a strangled cry of shame at this first rude male contact with her pinioned body, then burst into hysterical sobs, her head bowed against his chest. He stood there, face flushed, eyes glittering with triumph, grinning at the eager, excited youths who clustered around to watch this titillating scene.
"It's going to be all right, Teach," he soothed, stroking her head with his left hand while his right moved along her side and then to a rounded, resilient hip, letting his fingers linger finally on the plump, firm summit of one of her buttocks and pressing intimately so that she understood the significance of his longing. Already, his organ was prodigiously thrusting boldly against the tight fly of the jeans. And even as she huddled against him, shrinking herself in a comprehensible ostrich-like way to vanish from this terrible menace of the aggressive young males who confronted her, she couldn't but feel the prodding of his sexual weapon against her lowed abdomen. For instinctively she uttered a strangled cry again, stepped back as much as her tied ankles would allow, and looked" up at him with an expression akin to horrified consternation and shamed despair.
He moved behind her, and expertly untied the rope cording her wrists. "Now then, take off that dress and then I'll tell you what to do next, Chrissy baby," he instructed in a hoarse, trembling voice.
Christine Bernard's harlequin glasses were misted with her tears, and her face was scarlet. She glanced just once at the pitiless, avid young faces all around her, and shuddered, violently. Then with a groan, she stooped slowly, caught up the hems of the blue rayon skirt and drew the garment slowly over her head, then let it fall to the floor. And then, as if aghast at the realization of what all this intended, she once again burst into choking sobs, her lovely dimpled shoulders quaking with her distraught emotions.
In the clinging nylon slip, which clung to her body adoringly and shaped out the wonderful curves of bosom and bottom, she inflamed them all. There were muttered oaths, "Jeez-she's really got a pair of knockers, Teach has-I'll say she has, and what a squirmy, cute little ass on her too!"
She couldn't help but hear these salaciously muttered praises of her virginal figure, and once again the cruel intention of her captors and would-be ravishers was brought home to her. With a groan, she clenched her fists and stared once again at Henry Ferguson.
"Now pull off that slip and throw it down on the dress, Teach. Let's see what you've got on then," was his next order.
Christine Bernard could hardly control the convulsive tremors which rippled through her petite, delectable contoured body. It was the very first time in her life that she was appearing in deshabille before the opposite sex; even her fiance hadn't seen ser so scantily garbed as she now was. And as again she sent a frantically appealing look to her young dominator, she could see the taut, flushed, excited faces of the other four youths who watched like predatory hawks ready to swoop down upon her and tear her to pieces if she didn't comply with their command. Her exquisite carnation-tinted skin prickled and flamed with innumerable blushes, and a deep sense of overwhelming shame took possession of her as her fingers plucked helplessly at the shoulder straps of the nylon slip, for she couldn't yet bring herself to appear in only her most intimate lingerie before these five young lusting males.
She glanced around nervously at the door through which she had been carried, but the bind of the rope around her ankles reminded her all too hopelessly of the impossibility of escape; even if she weren't tied, she could never hope to gain the door and then the street before these five strong teenagers would be upon her, ripping off the rest of her clothing, flinging her down upon the mattress and ravaging her like a pack of wolves falling upon a defenseless rabbit.
"Get with it, Teach, for Christ's sake!" Bruce Melton panted, rubbing his hands back and forth over his hips and shifting about nervously as his mounting lust began to demand fulfillment ... either visual at least, or, if their victim couldn't bring herself to comply, through actual coital possession of the trembling petite, mature and virgin Venus who cowered before them.
"Maybe she needs some help, huh, Hank?" Joey Elverson snickered, taking a step forward.
"Don't let them touch me, oh, please don't-I-I will-you promised-I-I'll do it-oh, you must give me time, this is so shameful for me-have mercy, oh, Henry, please don't let them touch me!" Christine Bernard clasping her hands in desperate prayer, her eyes brimming with tears, fixed on imploring gaze on the grinning teen-ager who had engineered her downfall.
"Keep back, you guys, can't you see that Chrissy is giving you a nice slow striptease? It's more fun this way, so don't rush her," Henry Ferguson drawled, and once again he winked at the leering youths who stood at Christine's right and waited, their eyes blazing with anticipation over the delicious sights of tempting virgin flesh which they longed to have unveiled before them.
"You better take off the slip, Teach," he told her. "You keep your word, I'll keep mine, they won't get you. Now come on, take it right off, pull it up over your head and drop it on top of your dress like a good sweet little bitch!"
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Christine Bernard dragged the nylon slip over her head and let it fall, then covered her face with her hands and wept unrestrainedly. To see her head bowed, the lovely page-boy curls tumbling about her tear-stained flushed cheeks, and to behold her in the exquisite and provocative attire of only bra and panty set with garterbelt and sheer nylons and her pumps, was to anticipate a sexual ecstasy such as these teenagers who prided themselves on their own meager experiences thus far, had never known before. They stared greedily at her, drinking her in with blazing eyes, their nostrils flaring and shrinking and their chests heaving, while each of them felt the swelling, aching throb of erection-a tribute to the beauty, the allure and the helpless femininity of their beautiful victim.
"Put your arms down at your sides, Teach," Henry Ferguson commanded in a hoarse voice, and with a whimpering sob the young woman obeyed, her head still bowed and her eyes tightly shut as if to banish the nightmarish vision of those leering faces in this windowless room which was to be her Golgotha of sexual martyrdom.
"Boy, is she stacked!" Bruce Melton gasped, pressing his right palm over his bulging organ which strained against the fly of his jeans.
The thin pink bra hugged the sumptuous high-perched widely spaced turrets of her maiden bosom, outlined the firm saucy prodding of her well-developed nipples, and even vaguely allowed the sight of the narrow love-circles in which those tender yet firm buds grew. It was a strapless bra, with a narrow bandeau tight against her beautifully dimple, hollowed back, opening by hooks and eyes. Her bare midriff was smooth and suave, and just above the waistband of the tightly clinging panties one could see the shallow wide nook of her navel, that exquisite niche which could inspire kisses and caresses of tongue and lips and fingers by the knowing amorist. Her mound of Venus was plump, and the panties snugged it, accentuating its sexual prominence; the thin gauzy material showed the shadows of the thickly abundant curls of her pubis, and it was there that the eyes of all five of her captures now lingered lustfully with a savage thrill of eager anticipation.
Henry Ferguson came forward now, knelt down behind her and began to untie the rope round her ankles. Startled by this maneuver, Christine Bernard uttered a frightened cry and glanced back at the kneeling youth.
"Relax, Teach," he chuckled, looking up at her. "You'll have to spread those sweet legs of yours to fuck, so I've gotta untie your ankles, don't I? Remember, you're doing this on your own, unless you want the other guys to take good care of you."
"Oh, now, oh, please don't let them, don't let them, Henry, I-I'll do what you want-only promise me-promise me you'll let me go then-oh, my God, how can I go on teaching after this-how can I face all of you in a classroom after-after-"
She couldn't finish. The immensity, the enormity, the shameful imminence of what awaited her drew all of the thoughts now. She could only sob helplessly, once again covering her lovely face with her hands and bowing her head as her body trembled before them. It wasn't pity which she inspired with this helplessness; it was growing, implacable and ruthless lust.
"Okay," Henry Ferguson's voice was soft and meaningful, "now grab the back of your neck with your hands and stick those bombers out for us like a good sweet girl, Teach!"
Christine Bernard shuddered. She stared supplicatingly at her young executioner, but the glint of determination in his eyes and the tightness of his mouth told her that there would be no reprieve. With a little whimpering gasp, she slowly brought her hands up behind her and clasped her neck, keeping her eyes closed. She couldn't help swaying as tremor upon tremor rippled through her delectable body at the knowledge that each new step was a further one along the pathway to total degradation and humiliation.
"Cripes, that bra is gonna bust-just look at those knockers stick out!" Ben Elverson blurted in a thick, trembling voice. "Make her take it off, Hank!"
"She will, don't go off in your pants," was Henry Ferguson's complacent reply. "Now turn around slowly, Teach. And stick your elbows out more to the sides. We want to see your tits."
His crude words, contrasting so violently with the elegantly erotic tone of that damnable theme, made a new crimson blush burn her tear-stained cheeks. But she obeyed, numb with hopelessness, praying only that this ordeal would be ended and that at last she would be free to escape this oppressive, low-ceilinged, windowless room in which she was destined to sacrifice her long-preserved and fearful maidenhead.
Her elbows thrust out to maximum, and the pink bra became a second skin, emphasizing the projection of her pert nipples, deepening the magnificent firmness of those high-perched, widely spaced love-globes. She could hear the others suck in their breath, could hear them gasp and mutter among themselves, and knew that she was obscenely on display, the object of their pitiless and defaming lust-desires. Her legs felt weak beneath her, and it was only by sheer effort that she forced herself to. stand and to model as an expensive whore might do before perverse and expensive clients who would pay a high fee to enjoy in their own demeaning way the most secret charms she had to offer.
"Turn around again and slower this time, Teach, huh?" Once again, Henry Ferguson's voice broke in upon her agonized and reeling consciousness.
"Oh-pi-please, Henry, don't torture me like this-I beg of you-I-I said I'd do what you want, don't humiliate me like this in front of all those others, please!" she groaned, as new tears began to run down her scarlet cheeks.
"Any time you don't want to go through with the bargain you made, Chrissy, the other guys will take over, see?" was his incisive response. "Now get with it, just the way I said. Slow and easy, you're up on a stage in front of a big fashion-show audience, and they came a long way to see what you've got. Show it to them, Teach!"
"Ohh-you're hateful-if only you knew-"
"Is she going to do what you want or not. Hank? I'm getting tired of this, and I wanna fuck!" Bruce Melton burst out.
"Oh, she's going to do it, all right, Bruce. Don't forget, this is her first time. You'll see Teach get fucked, I can promise you that," dimly as in a hideous dream from which she couldn't wake she heard her young executioner boats-fully declare. But the fear of being manhandled and raped by the other four youths spurred her to obedience; slowly, still keeping her elbows tautly akimbo and her hands twisting at the back of her perspiring neck, the bespectacled beauty turned in a slow and complete circle.
"Make her strip bare-ass, Henry, fer crissake!" Ben Elverson hissed, clenching his fists, his penis jabbing rigidly against the taut fly of his jeans and his eyes narrowed to glinting pinpoints.
"You're in no shape to fuck a broad like Teach, Ben," Henry Ferguson turned back to his crony with a reproving grin. "You'd go off in your pants the first time you touched your cock to that soft little hairy slit of hers. Look at you, up tight like a drum. Now the way to bang a cherry like Teach is nice and slow and easy, just the way I'm going to show you guys how to do it. So hold your water."
Christine Bernard couldn't believe that this reticent, soft-spoken and almost shy boy in her class was the very one who had engineered this deception and captivity of her person, the very one to whom she had just agreed to surrender her maidenhead to save herself from mass rape. Her jaw dropped as she stared at him incredulously. But, sensing her mood, he now turned back to her, "Now you might as well take off that bra, Teach. Give the boys a thrill now, but do it nice and slow. Go ahead!"
Tears blinded her eyes again. "Oh, Henry, you know this is shameful-please have mercy on me-I-I promise I won't tell anybody if you'll just let me go home now-"
"You see, Hank!" It was Bruce Melton in an angry voice. "She doesn't wanna go through with it. Let's us guys drag her over to the cot there and screw the shit out of her, that'll teach her."
"Not yet. Chrissy is going to behave herself, or else I'll take her over my knee, pull down her cute little panties and spank her bare ass," Henry Ferguson drawled. He watched Christine Bernard's scarlet, contorted face as the lewd words sank into her reeling mind, and grinned again, satisfied with the effect. "Take off the bra, Teach, I mean it. If you don't keep your word, I won't be able to hold them back and you know it."
She turned to one side, fighting tears and hysteria, and her hands tremblingly reached behind her back to fumble for the hooks and eyes of the bandeau. At last she unfastened the thin straps, but reluctantly pressed her fingers over them, trying to put off till the last possible moment the atrocious humiliation of exposing her most intimate parts to these deliciously profaning eyes.
"Let go of it, Teach, or we'll rip it off!" Mack Benjamin angrily demanded.
Christine Bernard was conquered by fear. She let her hands fall helplessly to her sides, bowed her head again as the pink bra fluttered to the floor. And once again she heard the collective gasp of her five unwanted male admirers. Her fingernails drove into her perspiring palms, as she fought the instinct to conceal herself, for by now she understood that such a gesture wouldn't only be ridiculed but also at once punished to intensify her mounting shame and humiliation.
Her breasts were bare now, and with every shuddering breath they moved, vibrant and palpitating and exquisitely alive. The firm, audaciously set round globes with the narrow halos of dark-coral hue setting off the smooth purity of the carnation-tinted skin. The nipples crinkly and slightly firm-but out of an emotion of fear, not at all from sensual excitement. They were breasts that needed no bra and now exuberantly and gratefully paraded their naked free-dam before the dazzled eyes of the five avid youths.
"Now walk around a little, your hands on your hips, Chrissy," Henry Ferguson instructed. "And smile at us, or we'll think you're not at all friendly and not ready to cooperate. Remember the bargain you made, you have gotta keep it now by doing exactly what I tell you to-or else!"
She stared dumbly at him, having learned by now the utter futility of argument or discussion. A kind of stoic, resigned defiance took hold of her now, as she thought that by acquiescing to his rude young lust, she might indeed save herself the ignominy and degradation of surrender to his four merciless young cronies. And that was why, blinking her eyes clear them of the hot tears that came unbidden, Christine Bernard put her hands on her hips, straightened and began to walk slowly around the windowless room which would soon become her nuptial chamber in this unholy capitulation to animal passion which all her life till now she had been able to escape, even with her own fiance.
Their eyes devoured the rippling tremors that surged along her stockinged calves and thighs, admiring the flexions of the sinuously sleek contours of her calves and the exquisite dimpled hollows of her knees, then the graceful, delectably rounding columns of her thighs which in their turn merged into the succulent rotundities of her voluptuous bottom. Too, they stared at the dark triangle at the very apex of her panties where those lovely thighs merged into her loins, wanting her naked now and by sublimational yearning each in turn already coupling with her, flesh to hot trembling virgin flesh.
As she moved, her naked breasts jiggled with a marvelous elasticity, and she tried to close her ears to the salacious comments of praise and passionate desire which those crude words detailed, "Boy, wouldn't I like to get my hands on those sweet tits of Chrissy's-you said it, but I'd rather have my cock stuck in that hairy little nest of hers right there between her legs-you can see it through her panties! There's a broad that doesn't shave, ha ha!-Wow! She's gonna make me jack off before she even gets bare, that teasing cunt is!"
It seemed an eternity before at last Henry Ferguson resumed his instructions to the half-naked, trembling shamed young woman, "Well, you might as well take your panties off now, too baby. But you can leave on that garterbelt and your nylons and heels. That way, you won't be bare-ass naked. It'll save some of your modesty. See how nice we're treating you, Teach?"
And the chorus of hoarse guffaws which greeted this indecent and ironic sally made the tears start again and lashed Christine Bernard like a whip as she covered her face with her hands and again began to cry very softly in her desolate despair and overwhelming shame.