Chapter 1

"Hey Bud, we got Biology class this afternoon?"

Bud Swift stretched lazily in his seat and glanced at his watch, ignoring the history teacher who continued to lecture in the front of the room despite the fact that almost no one was paying attention.

"Guess not," he replied contentedly. "The new teach isn't in yet, and we ain't got football practice either. Might as well split, eh?"

"Got a better idea," confided the other student, a tall rugged youth of about eighteen with a knife scar on the side of his face. "You know that little sophomore chick we was talkin' to last night after class? The cute one with the nice little tits?"

"Yeah, I remember her," breathed Bud Swift, exhaling slowly as he pictured the girl in his mind. At twenty-one, Swift was the oldest student at Kensington, a man who had been to prison twice and was generally believed to have committed one undetected murder, a fact which gave him considerable status among the students. "So what?"

"I noticed that every night she hangs around the school in the library until everybody else splits and then goes down to the gym for a shower. I hear her old man kicked her out of the house and she's sleeping at a friend's place, but I guess they ain't got a bathtub."

"So what are we supposed to do? Go down and hold her towel for her?"

"Something like that. She should be honored to split a shower with a couple of football heroes."

"You know, Tony, hanging around with me is improving your mind," responded Bud after a moment's consideration. "I guess we'll just amble on down to the Ladies' Locker Room after class and see what happens."

On the door to the office, a sign announced: Mr. Mark Hanson, Chairman, Biology Department, and inside there were two men drinking cold beer from a refrigerator which Hanson kept for that purpose in the corner of the room. Hanson, himself, was feeling vaguely ill at ease, knowing that the replacement for Mrs. Billings was due to report in sometime today, and wondering how much trouble the new teacher would turn out to be. Women teachers who came to Kensington always turned out to be catastrophically ugly for some reason, so there was little probability of sexual interest, and furthermore, Hanson disliked them as a group because they were always incapable of controlling their classes, which usually meant more trouble for him.

"Probably be forty-seven and weigh two hundred pounds," he commented to Jack Flanigan, a science teacher who was sucking morosely on his beer, having his own problems to think about. There were chemicals missing from the laboratory, and Flanigan knew just enough about chemistry to entertain the vague suspicion that the thief may have stolen them with the creation of a bomb in mind. If the chemicals could be traced after the explosion, he was going to be in hot water . . .

"Hey, who was that?" the science teacher said suddenly, snapping quickly out of his melancholy day dreams and staring out through the half-opened door into the corridor. "That broad who just walked by with Phil Matthews?"

"I saw her, I saw her," exclaimed Mark Hanson irritably, setting his beer bottle on the table, and rushing to the door only to find that Matthews and the woman had disappeared around the comer. "Must be the latest Miss America or a visiting beauty queen. Wow! Did you see those tits? Anybody else would get her the hell out of here and back to his apartment, but Matthews is probably showing her the cafeteria and mouthing off about his damn poetry. Wonder who she is?"

"Hey, she couldn't be your new biology teacher, could she?" wondered Flanigan hopefully.

"Sure, sure, can you see the Board of Education sending a piece of ass like that into this place? Those kids would murder her the second day!" Hanson threw his big body back into his easy chair and put the can of beer up to his lips. "And anyway, what would she be doing with Matthews? He's in the English Department."

"No idea, chum. But, man, what a body! What's Matthews got that I haven't got more of?" complained the science teacher bitterly.

"The little queer! As if he'd know what to do with a broad like that!" grumbled Hanson.

"I'll drink to that," said Flanigan.

Actually, the two young teachers did not make a bad looking couple as they paced through the empty halls of Kensington Central High School, their footsteps echoing behind them as they walked. Philip Matthews was clearly no heroic muscleman, but a careful second glance informed the observer clearly that he was not precisely a ninety-seven pound weakling either, despite his thick glasses and absent-minded studious look. His features were regular despite a broken nose, and he talked well, gesticulating frequently with his hands as he explained to the newcomer what the real problems at Kensington were, leading her from the library down to the student cafeteria.

To an inexperienced eye, Miss Kathleen Barton seemed at first to be merely a youngish version of the standard high school biology teacher. She was slender even to the point of being a little frail. Her clothes were as squarely conservative as the hideous black horn-rimmed glasses she wore. Her long brown hair swept back severely, the young woman nodded as she listened to Phil Matthew's explanations, her intelligent brown eyes darting actively around her as she surveyed for the first time the school in which the school board had decided she would teach.

But a second glance at the lovely brunette teacher would tell a different story altogether. Without her glasses and with another hair-do, any man on earth would have found her face extremely attractive, but his gaze would soon have ventured farther down to discover that her old-maidish clothing did an inadequate job of concealing a body which was little short of fantastic. Despite having been anchored down by the most robust brassiere she could find. Miss Barton's full sensuous breasts swayed provocatively as she walked, and there was no way of disguising the fact that they were unusually large and high-set for her slender curvaceous frame. Hanging unfashionably to her knees, her skirt made a valiant effort at concealing the fact that her legs belonged on the cover of a glamour magazine. There seems to be an inexorable law of nature which insists that women who are pleasantly big in front must inevitably be unpleasantly big behind, but Kathy Barton seemed to be a striking exception to this rule, a fact that not even the serious-minded Philip Matthews could overlook.

"Yes, I can see you have some very difficult problems," Miss Barton was saying as the two teachers surveyed the gigantic but empty cafeteria. "I would certainly hate the idea of having a policeman standing at the back of my classroom, but I honestly don't know what I'd do if there was trouble . . . "

"Well, practically speaking, there's a buzzer under your desk which you can press if things should get out of hand," Phil reminded her. "It rings in the principal's office and theoretically anyone there is supposed to come running to your assistance, I've seldom come up against anything I couldn't more or less handle, but I'm not going to pretend to you that every class I teach is a huge success. Pushing poetry at these kids isn't the easiest thing in the world. Half of them can't even speak English."

"Oh golly, I love poetry," enthused Kathy, frankly happy to find a fellow teacher on the faculty who seemed bright and interesting. Kensington had a terrible reputation among the city's secondary schools, and she had heard as a student that most of the teachers employed there were people barely qualified to hold their jobs who stayed on simply because they could not find positions anywhere else. The school was located smack in the middle of one of the largest and most violent slums to be found anywhere in the Western Hemisphere,, and every social problem which existed anywhere positively flourished at Kensington. According to what Phil Matthews had told her, some students were already drug addicts; pregnancies and abortions among female students were routine; prostitution and homosexuality were both rampant, and racial problems caused violence on an every day basis. Since she had finished college on a full tuition scholarship, Kathy Barton had been obligated under the terms of her contract with the city to teach for at least one year wherever the school board decided she was most needed. And it happened that there was a vacancy in the Biology Department here at Kensington, so she had obediently reported for duty. But she was not happy about it.

"Speaking about the principal," she inquired, not knowing exactly how sensitive a question this was. "What kind of man is Mr. Parsons?"

Phil Matthews hesitated for a moment before replying, apparently not yet sure just how far this new young teacher could be trusted. She seemed intelligent and anxious to do a good job as a teacher, but on the other hand she was barely older than some of the students; in any event, she was far too frail and inexperienced to be teaching in a cesspool like Kensington where some of the older boys had already done time in the state prison. But ultimately he decided that she deserved an honest answer.

"Mr. Parsons and I are not in agreement about much of anything," he confessed frankly. "I've never been sure exactly what he does all day except sit in his air-conditioned office, keep anybody .like me from looking at the school's accounts, and send for the cops whenever there's trouble. If anybody runs the school, it's your boss, Mark Hanson."

"Mr. Hanson?" replied the young woman in surprise. "Why is he my boss? I thought he was the ex-football player in charge of physical education and coaching the football team."

"That's precisely what he does do," answered Matthews bitterly, "but he is also head of the

Biology Department and your boss, although he doesn't know much of anything about the subject and never teaches any of the classes. Three years ago, some genius decided that gym had to be part of some academic department and so it wound up under Biology. There's another rule which says that the senior teacher in every department is the chairman, and Hanson's been around longer than anyone else, so he became the chairman. I once made myself unpopular at a faculty meeting by opposing it, but with both Parsons and Hanson against me, there wasn't much to be done. Well, anyway, this is the cafeteria. Let's see what else I should show you . . . we've looked at the library . . . "

"Of course, I'll want to spend a little more time there tomorrow," Kathy put in. "I need to see exactly what's available for my students in Biology."

"You'll find there aren't many books there on much of anything. We seem to have all the money we need for football equipment, but try to get a couple of bucks out of Mr. Parsons for anything as dull as a textbook and you'll have a real argument on your hands. Come on, I'll show you the gymnasium. We may not have many books in our library, and the Chairman of the Biology Department may not know a chromosome from a mongoose, but we have one hell of a good gym, thanks to Mark Hanson and our marvelous championship football team."

"Tell me, why do you stay here? You could get a job someplace else, couldn't you?" asked the girl as they walked down the staircase towards the gym.

"Sure," he responded. "In fact, I teach a night course in poetry at the college downtown, and they've offered to hire me as an Assistant Professor of English on their regular staff. I've been thinking about accepting, but somehow I feel that there's a job to be done here. The reason why Kensington is in the rotten shape it's in is because most competent people won't work here and the few good teachers we do get like yourself leave as soon as they possibly can. Just like you will as soon as your contract expires."

"Well, I don't know that's true," responded Kathy, a little hurt by the blunt accusation. "I might find there's a job for me here as well. I took a course in teaching underprivileged children once."

"Well, you're going to need everything you've got, Miss Barton," the English teacher told her sincerely. "Someone as attractive as you are is going to have problems with the older boys . . . Anyway, this is the gym. Mr. Hanson's Paradise."

"Well, it looks like every other gym I ever saw . . . " She paused, a look of concern crossing her face. "What was that noise?"

"It sounded like a girl," answered Phil Matthews, his body going rigid at the high anguished scream of a young female voice. "A girl who's being hurt. Damn, I bet all the cops have gone off duty . . . "

"It came from in there," cried Kathy urgently. "Come on, shouldn't we see what's happening?"

"That's the woman's locker room," replied

Matthews dubiously, taking a few hesitant steps in that direction as Kathy Barton tugged on his arm. "Maybe we should go for help . . . "

"Well, you do what you want!" the young woman flared at him, angered at his reluctance to take some action. "I'm going to see what's happening in there!"

Aware that Matthews was a few steps behind her, Kathy hurried to the door, hearing a girl's voice groaning inside, and now totally sure that she was being abused in some fashion. Her hand was on the door knob when Matthews caught up with her.

"Wait a minute," he whispered. "If there's some rough stuff going on in there, let's be a little cautious and look before we leap."

It struck Kathy as a little cowardly to be so careful under the circumstances, but she decided that Phil Matthews had more experience in these matters and stepped submissively aside while he cautiously and silently opened the door to the locker room. The scene which met their eyes stunned the two of them into immobility.

There were two men and one young girl in the locker room, all three of them naked, and no one seemed to be aware of the presence of the two teachers half-hidden behind the door. The girl lay helplessly on the floor, a nasty bruise along one side of her face as if she had just been struck, a thin trickle of blood coming from her cracked lip, and she was cowering helplessly beneath a tall black-haired man who stood threateningly over her, her hands upraised as if she were pleading for mercy.

"Come on, baby, up on your knees," the young man smiled menacingly down at her. "I want to see those sweet lips of yours go to work."

"That's it, Bud," said the other student, a huge muscleman with a knife scar on his face. "And when she's through with you, I got something here for her, too."

Kathy's frightened eyes swept over the man called Bud, fear settling in deep as she realized that this was more trouble than she had bargained for. He was well over six foot in height and burly, like a wrestler or a professional football player, but he was obviously only in his early twenties, about her own age, and the English he used was precise and well-pronounced. Could this possibly be a student?

"Jus' don't hit me, Bud," the tormented adolescent girl pleaded, getting slowly to her knees as ordered. "I'll do anything you want if you don't hurt me."

As the young girl spoke, Kathy's eyes switched momentarily to her nakedly glistening body. Her taut, well tanned skin was still wet, and it was clear that the two thugs had surprised her coming out of the shower, stealing into the girl's locker room after the other students had left the premises for the day. She was very young, probably no more than fifteen, but her body was already mature and well-developed, and her two ripely succulent breasts protruded sharply from her chest like two firm little pears. Below, her waist was narrow and sensual, spreading gracefully into full womanly hips. Her brown skin indicated that she was Latin in ancestry, the type of female who reaches the peak of her beauty in her mid-teens. In her black eyes there was both anger and fear, in about equal proportions, but it seemed obvious that she was helpless in the hands of these two nakedly lusting monsters.

It was also uncomfortably clear to Kathy that she and Phil Matthews were not really enough to tip the scales in the girl's favor. Matthews was about thirty and probably weighed one hundred and forty pounds or so, but did not look like the type to tackle two heavy-weights like these. For a moment, there seemed to be nothing much they could do, and Kathy felt the other teacher's arm slip protectively around her as the two of them huddled fearfully behind the door, waiting to see what would happen next.

The teenage girl was groveling at the feet of the man called Bud, a horrified shudder running through her nakedly abused body as she realized what they were going to make her do. The man's hands snaked down crudely, invading the young girl's soft dark hair, and he pulled her roughly up into a kneeling position, her trembling lips only inches away from the monstrously long pole of flesh which jutted out from his groin. The terrified girl grimaced at the sight, but the young thug gave her no opportunity to voice any further complaints as he took the warm moist head of his cock and rubbed it lewdly around the edges of her trembling lips.

"You know what to do, girlie, and don't pretend you don't," Bud hissed at her, a callous smile spreading over his broad handsome face as he looked down at the helpless female crouched so fearfully at his feet. "Get that mouth open and start sucking before I slap the shit out of you."

Kathy gripped Phil's hand urgently, but the other school teacher restrained her, indicating by his behavior that she was to stay where she was and not move. Fascination battled with fright within the young teacher's mind as she watched the student girl slowly comply with Bud's criminal demands, her glistening red lips dropping hopelessly open in submissive obedience. With a brutal chuckle, the young man flicked his hips expertly forward, ramming his thick bulbous instrument directly into the unnatural sanctuary of her mouth. The girl gurgled and choked a little as she tried to adjust to this new and depraved presence in her mouth, instinctively closing her ovaled red lips around the man's rigid shaft.

In her limited sexual experience, Kathy Barton had heard talk of this bizarre and unnatural sex act, but she had never before actually witnessed it, and she shivered with a strange combination of indignation and excitement watching the subjugated teenager slave over the man's jutting penis, using her tongue to lash back and forth across the moist, plum colored cock-head.

"Come on, kid, we ain't got all day. Start sucking. Yeh . . . that's it. Harder now," snarled Bud, seizing the submissively sucking student by her long black hair and thrusting even more powerfully into her bobbing head. The two observers hidden behind the door could see the girl's cheeks hollowing in abruptly as she struggled to obey this depraved new order, the man's hips now beginning to thrust back and forth wildly as he moaned one obscene phrase after another, exciting himself more and more by the minute as he fucked savagely into her ovaled little mouth.

Kathy Barton was several years past losing her virginity and, having slept with two boys during her college days, she considered herself a very modern young lady as far as sex was concerned, but this erotically bizarre scene was a long way out of her league and she found her body trembling furiously as she watched. For one thing, nothing in her own private experience had prepared her for a penis as large as the one she was seeing before her now. Bud's long thick cock seemed enormous, and Kathy caught herself imagining what it would feel like to have something as big as that sliding obscenely back and forth along the surface of her tongue. To her surprise, the thought of being vilely abused in this perverted fashion was almost as exciting as it was repelling, and she wished desperately that fate had not made her a witness to this degenerate spectacle.

The other student, whom Kathy had mentally named, "Scarface," had now moved in close behind the wildly sucking adolescent girl, unable to hold himself back any longer. His own cock was thick and rigid with obvious sexual frenzy as his hands roamed lewdly over the tortured teenager's splendid young body, paying special homage to the tightly clenched cheeks of her smooth round buttocks. While his colleague fucked brutally in and out of the girl's tormented mouth, "Scarface" amused himself by poking and prodding up between her legs, tugging at the small dark tufts of pussy hair, and allowing his idle fingers to stray lasciviously into the enticing crevice of her vagina.

With a sudden shock, Kathy realized that the captive teenager was now doing her level best to please Bud, sucking away as if her life depended upon it, the strained features of her pretty young face bobbing violently up and down as she struggled to suck him dry. Bud groaned and gyrated above her like a king in ecstasy, sputtering obscenity after obscenity down on the girl's nakedly squirming young body, while "Scarface" entertained himself with her soft pliant flesh running his lips vilely down over the yielding half-moons of her buttocks, his thick hungry tongue washing lewdly over her trembling ass-cheeks.

"What should we do?" whispered Kathy desperately, seeing that in another minute or two, Bud would begin spewing his obscenely ejaculating cum down into the girl's helpless throat, and knowing that they would have to act quickly if they were going to spare the trembling young student from the ultimate humiliation of having her mouth used as a repository for the man's vile sperm.

"Nothing," Matthews murmured in an undertone. "Those two are capable of anything . . . we'd better try to sneak away . . . "

But Kathy Barton was outraged at the idea of another woman being abused in this degenerate fashion, and she was having none of this timidity. Suddenly breaking free of Matthews's hold on her, she stalked boldly into the room. If these were students, then she had a right and a duty to stop them! Certainly they would not dare raise a hand against a teacher . . .

"All right, stop that immediately!" she shouted, trying to make her voice firm and authoritative, but dismayed to hear it come out sounding squeaky and hesitant.

"Who the fuck are you?" gasped Bud in amazement, stopping what he was doing out of sheer astonishment, but making no move to withdraw his thick bulging cock from the young girl's tormented mouth.

"I am Miss Barton," announced Kathy with all the dignity she could muster, but realizing that the mere mention of her name was un-likely to have any particular effect upon him and wondering why Phil Matthews was not backing her up with his masculine authority. Or had he fled in terror, the contemptible weakling!

She looked around quickly, half-expecting to find herself alone, but Matthews had not run away, although it was clear from the expression on his face that he would prefer to be somewhere else.

"Fellas, you know better than to pull a stunt like that," Phil began lamely, but Bud cut him off quickly, yanking himself free of the terrorized girl and striding boldly towards the two teachers, his saliva-coated cock still rigid and waving before him like a flag of battle.

"Listen, Matthews," he snarled, "I don't know who this stupid dame is, but if you want to make anything out of this, you're going to find yourself in more trouble than you know how to handle . . . "

"You filthy beast!" Kathy found herself screaming, nervously taking a few steps backwards as Bud advanced menacingly towards them. "You . . . you . . . I'll see you in jail . . . "

"Matthews, who the fuck is this dizzy dame?" demanded the tall muscular young man, now more mystified than angered.

"An excellent question," came the harsh strident voice of Mark Hanson as he strolled angrily into the locker room behind them, his presence only adding to the confusion. "I thought I heard noise down here!"

For a moment, there was utter chaos. The ravaged young student girl was crawling nakedly around on the damp tile floor of the room searching desperately for her clothing, her perky young breasts swaying sensuously beneath her, while Bud and the other student alternated between shouting at Matthews and picking up their own discarded clothing in disgust. Phil Matthews seemed to be overwhelmed by the noise and threats of physical violence, backing into a corner and defending himself in a high-pitched voice while Kathy continued to shriek at Bud, assuring him that he was both a pig and a swine.

"All right, everyone SHUT UP!" Hanson finally thundered. "Okay, lady, I know everybody else, but who in hell are you?" he asked as soon as the room subsided into silence.

"I am Kathleen Barton," the young woman responded with as much dignity as she could summon up for the occasion, "the new biology teacher."

"Well for Christ's sake, the Board of Education finally sent me a beauty queen!" the gym teacher grinned at her vulgarly. "But aren't you a little new around here to start enforcing discipline?"

"Well, you have no idea what Mr. Matthews and I found when we walked in here a few minutes ago . . . "

"Ah yeah, that raises another question. Matthews, what the hell were you doing in the girls' locker room? Getting tired of reading poetry?"

"Now wait a minute, Mark," Phil Matthews rejoined weakly, "I was showing Miss Barton the school, and we heard a noise. And I'd like to know what these two male students were doing inhere!"

"After the close of school hours, the gym belongs to members of the football team," responded Hanson bluntly. "They had every right to be here. Probably stopped in for a drink of water after working out. Right fellas?"

"Yeah," chimed in Bud, seeing that Hanson was preparing to back him all the way. "We just wandered in for a drink of water, and found this chick coming out of the shower, and she starts screaming, and then these two come busting in . . . "

Hanson turned coldly to face the sexually abused girl who had managed to cover most of her body and was now cowering timidly behind a locker. "Now you don't mean to tell me that these two first-string members of my varsity football team attacked you, do you? A very serious charge, I would say!"

"No sir," the girl quavered, avoiding Kathy's eyes. "No, it was all a mistake, Mr. Hanson. They didn't bother me none. We were just fooling around."

"Of course. I would guess that you misinterpreted what you saw. Miss Barton, and I'll have to ask you to be more cautious in the future. Also, I'd like to see you in my office at ten tomorrow for your class assignments."

"But . . . but, tell him, Mr. Matthews," exclaimed the female teacher, unable to believe that the brutal attempted rape of a young defenseless young girl was simply going to be swept under the rug and forgotten.

"It's no use," Matthews said in a defeated tone of voice. "He knows perfectly well what happened, and he's just decided that it didn't happen. In this place, a football player can do no wrong! Let's get out of here."

"Better stick to poetry from now on, Phil!" called the gym teacher arrogantly while the two football players roared with laughter. Kathy Barton felt a humiliated flush sweeping over her cheeks, and the two teachers were half-way across the gym before she realized that she was still clinging desperatly to Phil Matthews' arm, her fragile body trembling like a leaf.