Chapter 7
Henry Ferguson suddenly drew himself out of the sprawled, shuddering, almost naked young woman and rose from the mattress. His four companions stared lustfully at Christine Bernard's exquisite pink-and-white skinned beauty rendered all the more provocative by the taut, clambering, sheer beige nylon hose and the narrow tabs of her white satin-elastic garterbelt which cinched so lovingly around her waist, then back at his dwindled organ in the no longer white prophylactic sheath. For it was stained by the blood of her sacrifice to Priapus, the undeniable proof of her verginity at the extremely advanced age of twenty-five. This seventeen-year-old boy had, by the simple act of coitus, turned her into a full-fl-edged woman!
She lay there trembling and gasping, shaken by the force of his violent conquest of her body, till at last realization came to her that she was the object of all eyes. Even he had turned back to stare, hands on his hips, in a swaggering attitude that spoke of his arrogant victory over his own beautiful young teacher.
"Boy, wouldn't I like a piece of that!" Mack Benjamin hoarsely muttered, nudging Bruce Melton in the ribs. "Look at that little pink slit of hers, all juicy and wide open now after what Hank gave it! I bet he stretched it good for us!"
Vaguely Christine Bernard heard these words, and the terrifying threat of a repeated violation brought her back to a horrified consciousness. Planting one palm on the mattress, she managed to sit up, at once concealing her deflorated mount with the other hand as she gasped, "Oh, no-Henry you promised you wouldn't let them-not if I did-what you wanted-oh, my God-let me get dressed and go now, I'm begging you, oh, please let it be over! I-I swear-I-I won't tell anyone about this, if you'll only let me go now!"
But in her mind even more strikingly now there loomed the horrifying dilemma of how she would continue her life and her career. How could she go back on Monday to face these jeering youths who had mocked and taunted her, watched her forced to undress herself and yield her body to one of them? It would take only a whispered rumor, and she would be the laughingstock of the entire campus. There would be obscene phone calls, anonymous letters asking for an assignation, waiting to have what so and so enjoyed.
She was utterly annihilated by this reasoning, which came as a pitiless aftermath into her conscious mind now that the physical destruction of her chastity had been achieved. She had crossed the Rubicon of degradation and shame, and there was nothing that could keep her from being destroyed by their vile intimations, their gossip as boys gossip among boys and boast of the females they have savored. Only this time, it wouldn't be a product of fantasy or wishful thinking; it would be an actual fact: she, Christine Bernard, teacher of English Literature, had actually gone to bed with one of her youngest students and let him have the rights of a husband over her!
"Don't worry, Chrissy, they won't bother you unless I tell them to," Henry Ferguson chuckled. "Now why don't you go to the John and tidy up? Besides, it's time for chow. Joey, use the camera on Teach here because I want a shot of her walking to the John with that cute tail of hers squirming around before she gets there. And then you go find a hamburger joint and bring us back the works, savvy? Hey, Chrissy, how many hamburgers are you good for?"
"I don't know about the hamburgers, but boy, I got a wiener here that's just ready for popping into Teach's little steam cooker!" Ben Elverson leeringly declared.
Christine Bernard shrank back, her eyes enormous behind the harlequin glasses. "Oh, please-I don't want anything-I just want to dress and go-please let me go now, Henry, you promised-"
"I didn't promise you anything except that I'd hold the guys off if you gave me a good time, Teach" he coldly interrupted. "I'm not finished with you yet. You ever hear of seconds? Now the John is behind that door right over there-" he jerked his thumb in the direction. "Go freshen up. There's a washbasin there and you can sit on the throne if you have to, and there's a towel to wash all over. Even some soap. We planned everything nice and ready for you, Teach, all the comforts of home, and nobody's going to know about this except just us. And of course the movie camera, don't forget that."
She stared up at him, not believing her ears. Tears again began to well to her eyes, and her voice shook as she unsteadily tried to reason with him, to implore mercy. "Oh, please-how can you-how can you possibly enjoy anything when you know that I-that I find it so horrible and shameful and disgusting? Please, I can't possibly-to use your own awful words-be more cooperative than-than this-oh, do let me go now, in the name of decency!"
"Maybe Teach is shy now, maybe she doesn't want us to know that she has to use the John just like anybody else," Mack Benjamin now suggested. "Maybe we ought to give her an escorted tour and even wash her all over, huh?"
"Oh no! Oh, my God, don't any of you touch me again, I'd just die! I-I'll go by myself-oh, please, give me back my clothes, Henry!"
"What's the use? I told you, I'm not ready to let you go yet. Why, we're only just beginning to get to know each other real nice, Teach," he sardonically countered. "You just get in there and wash up, then Joey'll bring you something to eat, and then we'll have some more fun. After that, we'll talk about when you can leave."
Again he pointed to the door, taking a menacing step back towards the mattress. Christine Bernard uttered a cry and got to her feet, still holding her palms up against her pubis. Then, crooking her other arm over her heaving naked breasts, she awkwardly moved towards the door he had indicated. All five boys stared at her entranced; their eyes fixed unerringly on the jouncy, upstandingly rounded, pink-sheened cheeks of her bottom which shifted and undulated, at times diminishing the narrow ambery-rosy crease between the hillocks, at other times giving a most salacious glimpse of the wider, more mysterious sinuosity of the perineal area which led to both her temples of delight.
Her dark-brown pageboy curls were tumbled over one cheek, and she had had to grope for her pumps with her stockinged toes because, during the act of intercourse to which she had unwillingly yielded with Henry Ferguson, both the trim black leather pumps had been kicked off and fallen to the floor. Leaning forward to retrieve the pumps, with her dainty toes, she had unwittingly exposed the jiggling globes of her naked breasts to their avid eyes, affording them still another lust-image to retain in the indelible camera of their minds, one they would remember for years to come, would embroider upon, embellish until perhaps a generation from now, each would be able to boast he had enjoyed a long unending orgy of sexual abandon with a beautiful mature woman who had taught his English Literature class!
Once inside the narrow bathroom, which she discovered that she couldn't lock but only close tightly, Christine Bernard felt the dangling cord of an overhead light fixture and groped for it, pulled it on. From a naked bulb in the ceiling, she could see herself reflected back from a dirty narrow medicine cabinet mirror above the equally dirty washbasin. Her face was stained with tears, her eyes puffed and red from weeping. Her nostrils flared and quivered, her lips constantly trembled, and the rhythmic surge of her naked bosom indicated the emotional stress which she had just endured and whose aftermath was only now taking its violent nervous reaction unpon her deliciously voluptuous young body.
She stared down at the tangled, thick dark-brown curls of her pubis, and shuddered and closed her eyes with abhorrence to see the telltale signs of blood ... the symbol of her defloration. Imbued much as Lady Macbeth must have been, she stiffened and then hurriedly seized the bar of yellow soap, turned on the hot-water tap and let it run until it was warm enough to suit her. Then, making a lather with both hands, the strong-smelling bar clutched between them, she feverishly rubbed the soapy froth against the fleece of her mons veneris. With a groan of shame, she winced to feel the tender sensitivity of the lips of her pink, soft, twitching vulva. Cupping her hands, she brought water to the soap and rubbed, almost pitilessly ignoring the sudden twinges of pain which followed this energetic friction. So intent was she upon obliterating that shocking and revolting sign of her fall from grace, her downfall from that pedestal of unattainability, that she ignored the aching, almost bruised feeling of her inner thighs whose muscles had flexed violently in an instinctive defense against the thrusts of her formidable young ravisher.
Then she took the towel and, her lips curling in distaste over its condition, searched for a patch of reasonably un-soiled material by which she might sponge and wipe herself after several more applications of soap and water. This done, she removed her glasses and set them on the porcelain stand behind the toilet bowl, then adjusted the cold-water tap with the other and began to splash water against her swollen eyes.
Finally, after a last look into the mirror, she replaced her glasses, glanced down at her pubis, and turned scarlet with mortification at her sudden new awareness of her own body. As she turned to leave the narrow bathroom, from her sideways position she could see the sleek curve of her hip and thigh in the mirror, the sight of one magnificent round breast, and the cling of the white garterbelt which still tenaciously hooked up the welts of her beige nylons. She would have wished for a comb, but there was none in the empty medicine cabinet. She put her hands behind her automatically to smooth the pageboy curls, and this exquisite gesture arched out boldly the superb globes of her naked bosom. In turn, she was forced to look at herself, and she saw that her nipples were darker and firmer than they had been when she had been forced to remove her bra at the order of her young rapist-for such he was, and by no stretch of the imagination could he be considered anything else. "Oh, my God, is he going to let me go after this? What am I going to do? Oh, what am I going to do?" she whispered to herself. And then slowly, putting the towel back on the little plastic rack, she slowly opened the door and came out into the basement to see once again the matttess on the box frame where she had expiated her purity and sacrificed the prize and pearl of her maidenhead.
A murmur of appreciation greeted her upon her return, and all four of the boys-Joey had still not returned from his errand-turned to stare at her.
"Wowie! Teach looks like a brand-new piece, and do I ever want one!" Bruce Melton sniggered. He picked up the camera which Joey Elverson had set away, adjusted the lens, checked the fottage, and then pressed the shutter which set that whirring noise into motion, a noise that made her tremble and groan, and then quickly put a hand over her vulva and try to shield her panting bare breasts with the other arm. "Oh, please don't-I beg of you-haven't you done enough already?" she gasped, her cheeks scarlet again. For now it seemed to her that this was beginning all over again, with a new gamut of shame and desolation and despair in store for her.
"Go sit down and take it easy till I get back, Teach," Henry Ferguson ordered. "It's my turn to clean up now and get ready for you, Chrissy."
"Oh, no-you can't mean-why that's impossible-" she gasped.
"You must be kidding! You think one little piece is enough after all the planning and figuring out I did, Teach?" he laughed gloatingly at her as he strode towards the bathroom she had just quitted. "Now you just sit down and behave yourself, or Ben and Mack and Bruce might just forget we made a bargain and try you out before I get back, get it?"
She hurried over to the mattress and sat down, leaning forward and huddling herself into as small a ball as she could, her arms still shielding her bosom, the other hand clamped over the still twitching and extraordinarily sensitive lips of her vulva. She closed her eyes tightly, and she wished that she could be deaf at this moment, for the three boys had begun to appraise her voluptuous charms as if she weren't there, "Some guys like a tall lanky piece of cunt, but me, I'll take Teach any old time-You said it, Bruce! She's got the squirmiest little ass I ever saw on a broad, and those tits of hers give me a hardon just thinking about them-but that pink little twat of hers, that's the part I like about Teach most. You other guys can have the rest of her, just give me a chance at that slit she's got between those cute sexy legs, and I'll stay there and never come up for air!"
She wanted to sink through the floor, vanish into thin air; she wanted to turn back the pages of the calendar and even marry Henry Brandt, predictable and stodgy as she now knew him to be. For he represented security, and even though he had gone out of character last night by trying to make love to her with the pretext that as an engaged couple there was no reason to delay their pleasure in each other, at this moment Christine Bernard would have given all she possessed to summon him back to her apartment and to let him put the ring upon her finger after the deed was done. Because then at least it would be a sancrosanct union, wherein two married people would have their own secrets which no one else could possibly share. Yet now, even if Henry Ferguson kept his promise and released her after he had had his fill of her body, Christine Bernard could not be sure that what had taken place just now wouldn't be the subject of endless salacious gossip and scabrously detailed obscenities throughout the rest of the school year and for God knows how long thereafter!
"Hey, here's Joey with the chow!" Mack Benjamin excitedly called out. Joey Everson, grinning from ear to ear, was carrying two large brown bags. "I found a real nice drive-in a coupla blocks from here, you guys," he boastfully announced. "They make the biggest burgers I ever saw, and they're not all that expensive either. Yeah, I got plenty of French fries-they're nice shoestring and crispy-'n ketchup 'n mustard, yeah, and chocolate milk shakes. Let's see now-I got twelve burgers and six shakes. That makes a shake and two burgers for Teach there, that oughta to do her."
"I-I don't want anything-please-please just get it over with and let me go," she repeated, numb, her voice dull and resigned now. She hoped by calling as little attention to herself as possible to make them at last tire of their sport, or perhaps for the first realize the great risks they had taken in abducting and keeping her here prisoner against her will and then forcing her to this odious degradation of the flesh.
But at that moment, the bathroom door opened and Henry Ferguson strode out. Attracted by the sound of the opening door, she had turned to look, and now she shrank back, clapping a hand to her mouth, her eyes huge with consternation behind the piquant harlequin glasses.
For Henry Ferguson was stark naked except for socks and loafers, and he had sponged himself thoroughly, even to slicking down his hair. Worst of all, his penis was again nearly fully erect, an obscene symbol of her martyrdom which intimated that this unspeakable ordeal wasn't yet over.
"First we'll have chow, Chrissy," he announced as he walked over to the mattress and sat down beside her, "and then we'll fool around a little, okay?"
"Oh Henry-can't you-won't you please-oh, my God-I can't stand much more of this-I've done what you wanted me to, isn't that enough-oh, please have mercy on me, I'm only a woman, I've never done anything like this before in all my life-"
"But you're picking up new tricks fast, Teach, I'll say that for you," he twitted her. "Hey, you did a real good job cleaning up. You look good enough to eat." He winked at his cronies. "But I'll be a gentleman and let you chow down first, Teach. Give her two hamburgers and some fries and a shake, Joey."
"But I-"
"But you're going to eat, or else I'll let the guys take over," he roughly interrupted, glaring at her.
Christine bowed her head, speechless with terror and shame. The grinning bespectacled youngster had delved into one of the sacks, taken out two of the wrapped hamburgers and a tissue-wrapped packet of French fries, and one of the milk-shake containers, was moving towards her. "Here y're, Teach honey. Soo how good we're treating ya? You get first pick. No charge either," he sniggered, and the other boys chuckled at this sally.
"Go ahead, take it and start eating. I'm not done with you yet, remember? So make it snappy," Henry Ferguson again ordained.
"Here's a straw for ya, Teach," Joey Elverson proffered one of the straws from the bag.
Christine Bernard began with trembling fingers to unwrap one of the hamburgers, leaving the other placed against her thighs which she continued to clench together with a desperate urgency as if to hide her most intimate parts from all those prying eyes. There was something ingenuous and pathetic about this maneuver, as if by it she sought to tell herself that what had happened hadn't really taken place, that she was still inviolate, still untouched and chaste. But her trembling when she encountered the greedy, knowing leers of the other youths who stood nearby and watched every movement, made her cheeks redden with an awareness that belied this desperate pose of innoncence and unattainability.
Henry Ferguson took his share and began at once to eat with voracious bites, stopping from time to time to suck greedily through the straw in his milk-shake container. When he paused, it was to stare greedily at the naked young woman beside him who shrank away and averted her face. She managed to finish the first hamburger, but couldn't do more than take a few bites of the second. She finished nearly half of the milk shake, however, as she found herself to be unusually thirsty. "That-that's all I want, th-thank you," she said faintly as she set the container down on the floor and, carefully wrapping the rest of the remaining hamburger, placed it atop the container.
"I'll be with you right away, Teach. But for now, why don't you get better acqainted with me, huh? Go ahead put your soft little hand on my whang and feel it up. I haven't got a rubber on now, so you can see and feel what it's really like. That's what went inside of you just now, remember, Chrissy?" he taunted her.
She gasped and her face flamed violently. She stared at him appealingly, tears again forming in her widened eyes.
"Do what I told you to, unless you want the guys to take over," he again ominously reminded her.
With a sob, Christine Bernard extended her trembling right hand and gingerly brushed the shaft of her ravisher's now again turgid penis with the tips of her fingers.
"It won't bite, don't be bashful. After all, you and I just fucked, didn't we?" he said brutally. "Now go ahead, put your fingers around it, take a good hold of it and give it a loving little squeeze. And then you can start tickling the top, till I'm ready for you again."
"Oh, no-you mean you're not-oh-oh, my God-oh, please, Henry-"
"No, I'm not going to fuck you this time, but you've got two other cherries that I think would be just as much fun having as your pussy's," he said to her.
She stared at him uncomprehendingly, her mouth agape. Incredulity as well as shock left her unaware of his meaning except the general knowledge that her ordeal would be prolonged.
"That's right, Teach. This time, I won't need a safe. You see, Teach, you're gonna gimme a blow job first, and then I'm gonna put my cock right into your cute little brownie."