"Do you remember Peter Jenkins?"
Sharon looked up from her position on the bed, where she was skimming through the latest National Enquirer. Gary was sitting in front of his computer with an old Greenwood school yearbook open in his lap.
"Jenkins," Gary repeated. "Peter Jenkins. He was in grade twelve when you were in grade nine." He turned and handed over the old school yearbook, pointing to a picture. "That guy. He went out for Stacy for a little while, but she broke up with him."
"Oh... that's right. He's the one who got so drunk at the Prom that he vomited all over himself; they had to throw him out."
"That's him." Gary took back the yearbook and gazed at the picture. "He was fucked up over Stacy for months: a real basket case."
Sharon glanced back at her National Enquirer for a moment, but then turned her attention back to her boyfriend. He must have something in mind, even if it was taking him a little while to get to it.
Gary just stared intently at the picture for a moment, saying nothing, and then went back to work on his computer.
Maybe a little prodding was necessary.
"Nothing special." He hit the return button on his computer, saving some work. That done, he turned back to Sharon.
"I heard he was working up in Point Hope."
Sharon waited silently for the other shoe to drop. This time, it was not long in coming.
"I was just thinking," he mused, gazing again at the yearbook, "that maybe we're being a little greedy, keeping Stacy to ourselves up here in Bakersville. Wouldn't it be nice if we could get him back together with his old high school flame... at least for one night?"
The game was over, and the players had long since showered up and left the building. Biff Talbot lead his four friends into the now-deserted locker room. Together, they made up the first- string offensive line of the Greenwood Bulldogs, the football team at Greenwood High. As offensive linemen, they had not been picked for their speed, dexterity or intelligence. No; they occupied the position they did on the football team because of their size. The smallest of them, Billy Paxter - "little Bill" - was 6'2" and weighed just over 240 lbs. He received a lot of ribbing on the team because of his size.
Being an offensive lineman, even a good one, was not a particularly glamorous position. It was pretty much all grunt work - "down-in-the-trenches" kind of stuff. The type of football that won games by attrition, not by spectacular solo efforts. Hence, all the attention... all the acclaim; all the girls went to the players in the flashier positions, such as the quarterbacks and wide receivers and the like.
Grinning his big, stupid grin, Biff flipped open the door to one of the unused lockers at the end of the wall.
Stacy flinched at the sudden brightness.
She had been crouched in the locker for almost three hours, ever since the end of the game when Barry Packard had hustled her into the locker room just as the final few moments expired on the clock. Barry hadn't been "using" her since early January, when he had started going steady with another girl at school, but he hadn't forgotten Stacy either. Particularly when Neil had "explained" a few things to him. At first, he had been a little depressed at the knowledge that Stacy had only been fucking him because she was being forced to do so. Then he got angry; the bitch wouldn't give him the time of day unless she had to! At least he was seeing Heather now. And, he thought, philosophically, Stacy was such a slut these days, he didn't really want to fuck her anymore. She was used goods. Who knew where her pussy had been?
Nevertheless, although he might not want her anymore for himself, he could always do favours for his buddies. Stacy hadn't complained when he told her what she was to do, not that it would have done her any good. He had been quite prepared to "insist". She had just stared down at the ground and nodded her head silently when he had told her what she was going to do; all five guys were "new meat" (Sharon's term). Each fuck would bring her closer to the end of her ordeal.
"Get in," Barry ordered, opening up a locker. "Hurry."
Stacy hesitated slightly - the locker was pretty small - but then she obeyed. Making certain she had a firm grip on the small flask (red wine this time), she wriggled ass-first into the locker, facing outwards. Her tight little cheerleading costume - green, sleeveless blouse and white skirt - rode up on her thighs, exposing her bare pussy to the open air. Barry, unable to resist, reached down and fondled it, slipping his middle finger into her snatch and wiggling it around. Stacy had not yet ingested any of the wine, and thus squirmed away. Barry didn't notice.
A few seconds later, Barry stepped back to take a look. Stacy was wedged backwards into the locker, crouched on the heels of her feet, with her thighs splayed open. 'Looking good' he thought. 'Just one more...'
"Hold on," he muttered, moving away out of Stacy's line of vision. Stacy waited nervously. The game must be over by now. Any moment there would be...
"Here we are."
Barry had returned with a couple of dildos a foot long,
"I know how hot you are," he muttered bending down. "I wouldn't want you to get lonely down here while you're waiting." He reached under her crotch and slowly inserted one of the dildos handles into her dry pussy. Stacy squealed and tried to wriggle away, but the silver tube slid quickly up into her pussy until about eight inches of it was lost from view. Barry propped it up on the base of the locker. Stacy tried to push herself away, but was only able to move up about four inches before her head hit the top of the locker; she was now effectively impaled on the handle until she left the enclosed space.
Leering, Barry passed the other to her.
"This is for your mouth," Barry instructed her. "When my buddies open this locker, I expect you to be tonguing it the way you sucked my cock a couple of months ago."
Stacy looked up at him from where she crouched in the locker, her eyes watering with humiliation. "If not," he continued, unrelenting, "I'll have to complain to Sharon." He smirked at her. " We wouldn't want that, would we?"
A tear trickled down Stacy's cheek as she nodded.
"How about a demonstration?" Barry suggested.
Stacy hesitated momentarily, but then brought the handle up to her mouth and began tonguing and licking it. She closed her eyes as she did so, trying to imagine that it was a real cock; that she was anywhere but here...
Stacy's eyes flew open. Barry was standing in front of her with a polaroid camera. He took another picture while she stared at him in panic and then lowered the camera.
"Looking good," he laughed.
Stacy turned red, but continued sucking hungrily at the handle as she had been ordered to do.
Still laughing, Barry moved forward and slammed shut the locker door. Inside, Stacy pulled the handled out of her mouth and reached down for the thermos, wincing as the slight movement caused the unwelcome visitor in her pussy to grind itself in a little further.
Stacy had remained in the cramped confines of the locker for the next three hours before Biff and the rest of the linemen arrived. It had been quite hot in the locker room, particularly as the boys were showering, and by the end of the three hours, her entire body was damp with sweat. Her skirt was bunched up at her waist, and the shirt of the cheerleading outfit, never all that concealing in the first place, was now plastered to her upper body, clearly revealing her rock-hard nipples.
She had gone through most of the wine in the thermos, more from thirst than anything else, and she was almost unbearably horny. More than once during her stay in the locker, she had been tempted to burst out and grab one of the cocks that floated so temptingly across her limited field of vision (there were small ventilation slits in the front of the locker), but common sense - and a good dose of fear - had won out. There were over twenty boys in the locker room. And she still had some pride left. Her sluttishness was not yet common knowledge at Greenwood, and she desperately wanted to keep it that way. Only another fifteen or so guys to fuck.
So, in the end, she had to settle for sliding up and down on the now-slippery handle Barry had stuck in her pussy. By doing so and wriggling around as much as she could, she managed to bring on several small orgasms in the course of the three hours as the boys of the football team showered and changed, unsuspecting, all around her. At one point, she was afraid that her moans would give her away, but she was unable to stop herself from sliding up and down on the metal "cock".
So instead, she stuck the second handle in her mouth and began to suck, thus muffling any noises she might have made. Three hour passed slowly...
Stacy Richards squinted up at the surprised football players from inside the locker. Her cheerleading outfit was plastered to her sweat-soaked body. Her pussy, clearly displayed from in between her splayed thighs, sucked hungrily at the shiny metal cylinder as she slide herself up and down on it. Her hands clutched another metal cylinder - barbell handle, Biff realized - and slid it suggestively in and out of her mouth, between her shiny, wet lips. Her charm bracelet jingled quietly as she moved the metal handle up and down, all the while making quiet moaning sounds around the object in her mouth.
Biff tore his eyes away from this incredible sight and turned to his equally stunned friends.
"Guys," he chortled, "I give you... Stacy Richards. She's ours for the evening."
They couldn't believe it. Stacy Richards; the Stacy Richards who had been flaunting herself in front of them from the sidelines these last three years; the Stacy Richards who had teased them, yet only gone out with the quarterbacks and other stars; the Stacy Richards of their dreams. Bill moved forward first, reaching into the locker.
"Wait," Biff told him. Barry had given him some instructions. "Just wait a second."
Biff moved forward and looked down on Stacy. She looked back up at him, tears of humiliation burning in her large, green eyes; tears of humiliation... and something else. He reached down and gently took away the barbell handle she had been sucking on. She moaned softly, but didn't resist as he slid it out from between her lips.
"Stacy," he said quietly, "is there something you'd like to say?" Despite what Barry had told him, Biff still couldn't really believe she would say it. Once again, he was surprised.
"Fuck me," she moaned, eyes closing as she ground the second handled deeper and deeper into her sopping pussy. "I need your cocks."
This was enough for the guys, and they surged forward. Biff, however, held them back again. One more thing...
"What do you say?" he asked the desperate girl.
She looked up at him for a few moments, but then glanced away, unable to meet his eyes.
"What? I didn't hear you."
Stacy looked up at him, lips parted. "Please," she said, her voice louder. "Please fuck me. I need you all; I n-need your cocks in me. Please fuck me... p-please shoot your sperm into me. Please..."
And they did.
Friday afternoon. 3:45 PM. The school cafeteria was almost empty, as most of the students at Greenwood had, typically, declined the opportunity to hang around the school after classes. The weekend beckoned, and, with the wonderful late spring weather, the beach was exerting its almost magnetic pull on the teenagers of Bakersville.
The cafeteria was not, however, completely deserted. Three students sat quietly talking, in a corner table. Gary, as usual, did most of the talking. He was also the one who handed out the latest round of money from the sale of pictures to various magazines. May had been a good month for them as far as picture sales went. Stacy had now unwittingly adorned the pages of over a dozen magazines across the country, with more to come. It was only a matter of time before she found out - before someone in Bakersville saw some of the pictures and spread the news - but they didn't really care. Their time with Stacy was nearly done anyway.
The main cafeteria door opened and Karen walked in, followed closely by Ashley. The two girls had spent more and more time together over the last six weeks as Karen tightened her hold over the older girl. Like Stacy, Ashley was the victim of blackmail, and, as had been the case with Stacy, events had quickly moved beyond her control. Since the incident which put her in this vulnerable position in the first place, there had been any number of events which had deepened Karen's hold on her. All Ashley could think of was the end of the school year and freedom. All Karen could think of was how nice it was to have such a beautiful girl as Ashley as a personal slave, and how hard it would be to give it up.
If she gave her up...
"Wait here," Karen ordered, moving towards her three friends in the corner. Obediently, but not without a flash of anger, the tall brunette sat down on a bench near the door.
"What's up?" Karen asked as she approached. "Neil said you wanted to meet."
"Just the final plans for tomorrow night," Sharon told her. "The football party." She looked over at where Ashley sat, staring at the floor. "Everything's cool with her? Did she cause any problems?"
Karen plopped herself down beside Neil. "No," she answered. "No problem. We'll be there."
"Great," Sharon smiled. "I've got the perfect costume picked out; the guys are gonna love her." Neil chuckled at this, but Karen only frowned.
"Listen," she said tentatively, "she's not gonna get... you know... hurt or anything like that?"
"Ha," Neil laughed. "Just get her brains fucked out. That's all."
"No," Karen ignored him. "I mean like, beaten, or... well... you know."
"Huh uh," Sharon shook her head. "Nothing like that. It's just a party; the guys on the football team at BCN just want to celebrate the end of the season with a big blow out. Stacy was such a big hit the last time, they want her back again." Sharon looked over at Gary who didn't react. "I offered them Ashley as well because you said you wanted the money. They were willing to pay twice as much for two girls."
Karen looked undecided.
"There's not a problem with that, is there?" Gary asked. Karen looked over at Gary, meeting his intense stare for a few moments and then looking away.
"No," she answered finally. "I just don't want her hurt. That's all."
The table fell silent for a few moments.
"OK then," Sharon stated. "That's settled. You'll meet us at my house at eight to get the girls dressed."
"Yeah," Karen told her, getting to her feet. "We'll be there." This said, she turned and walked away towards the waiting Ashley. She walked straight past her and out the door. After a confused glance at the three teenagers in the corner, Ashley scrambled to her feet and followed her out.
"What was that all about?" Neil muttered.
"Dunno." Sharon shrugged her shoulders.
Gary laughed. His two friends turned towards him. "It's spring," he explained, grinning.
"You know," Gary insisted. "Spring. Birds and bees and that sort of thing."
His two friends stared at him, blank looks on their faces.
"I think our Karen is falling in love..."
When Peter Jenkins had called to invite her to a party up in Point Hope, Stacy had jumped at the opportunity. Peter was two years older than her, and had been a senior at Greenwood when Stacy had been in grade ten. They had gone steady for a little while - about nine dates altogether - but Stacy had eventually dumped him when the current captain of the football team had expressed an interest in her. She had never really seen much of Peter after that; she knew that he didn't get another girlfriend that year, but never really thought about it. In her mind, the split-up had been entirely natural, and, if it bothered him, well... he'd just have to grow up a bit, wouldn't he?
Thus, when he called her up, she had not hesitated to accept his invitation. He had moved to the nearby town of Point Hope after graduation, where he worked as a clerk in a department store. For Stacy, it represented the chance to get away from her present situation; to go to a party with people who didn't know her and wouldn't force her to have sex with them. It sounded perfect.
She even bought a new dress for the occasion. A sleeveless green dress with little ruffles on the shoulders. It matched her eyes perfectly, and, she thought, it made her look a bit like a little girl. She had made a mental note to do her hair up into a pony tail. It was the sort of look which used to drive the guys wild back when she had enjoyed that sort of teasing. Now, of course, she was obliged, as often as not, to put out, so the cock-teasing was not as much fun as it used to be.
Not tonight, though. Tonight, she could be her old self. No one in Point Hope knew her or went to Greenwood. It would be just like old times.
Peter showed up at 7:00 PM as planned. It was almost a two hour drive to Point Hope, so he wanted to leave fairly early. She had been ready a good fifteen minutes before he arrived, but she still kept him waiting downstairs for almost half an hour; it was just like old times.
He hadn't changed much. Always rather short, the last couple of years had seen his body fill out quite a bit until he was beginning to show a bit of pudginess. Obviously, the clerking job at the department store didn't involve much physical activity. Stacy felt herself sneering a bit as he led her out to his car - a somewhat battered Toyota Tercel; he was turning into a bit of a slob. The way he looked now, he couldn't be getting too much in the way of attention from any girls; that was probably why he had turned to his old high school girlfriend for a date at this party. No doubt he'd be so overwhelmed at having such a beautiful date as herself, he'd do whatever she wanted. What a schmuck!
The drive up the coast to Point Hope was not particularly scenic. The only real nice part of the drive came just as they passed by the Point Hope Maximum Security Penitentiary and crested the hill leading down into the town itself. Point Hope was a quiet little town nestled against the beach below the sandstone cliffs. The view from the top of the hill was little short of spectacular.
Stacy, however, had seen it all before. Besides, she was having too much fun annoying Peter. The two hour drive had been marked by small talk and long silences, but Stacy had quickly discovered that Peter was still easily upset by talk of their brief relationship a couple years earlier in high school. He had flushed an angry red when she had brought it up earlier in the trip, and had, since then, shut up almost entirely. Stacy, however, was enjoying herself immensely. She made a point of bringing it up as often as possible. By the time they arrived at the party, she was in a great mood, and Peter was quiet and sullen.
Peter fought to remain patient as he led Stacy up the walk to the front door. This had better be worth it!
He had received a phone call from a guy - some kid - at Greenwood, telling him something about Stacy's recent activities, and about her "weakness" for alcohol. The caller had suggested that once she had a couple of drinks in her, she would do anything, and that 'wouldn't it be nice if the two of them got back together for a date.'
Peter wasn't sure if he believed him, but it was worth a try. Stacy had been an incredible bitch to him in high school, and any chance to get even was well worth attempting.
Since the phone call, he had been experiencing this recurring fantasy...
Stacy quickly realized that she was overdressed for the party. Most of the guests seemed to be blue collar workers from a local fish packing plant; the majority of them wore nothing more fancy than jeans and tee-shirts. Stacy was the only woman there in a dress. She was also the only one young enough to be in high school.
Peter immediately brought her a glass of punch. When she sipped at it, Stacy discovered that it was a bit strong for her taste, but not too bad. She took another, longer, drink from the glass. The way things were shaping up at the party, a couple of drinks might well be called for. The whole idea of coming to this party with her ex-boyfriend was beginning to look like a bad idea. A little alcohol never hurt anyone; she finished the drink. Peter brought her another one and stood talking with her while she finished that one as well.
He asked her to dance.
At first, everything went well. The music was up-tempo and the dancing was fun, despite her inappropriate dress. After a while, though, she began to feel a bit queasy. It must have been the punch. In fact, she realized suddenly, if felt a little like...
A new song started. A slow song.
Peter pulled her close, into his chest; instinctively, she draped her bare arms over his shoulders and they began to dance, slowly revolving around the dance floor. As they danced, Stacy began to experience the now-familiar feeling of disassociation as the room started to spin. She closed her eyes and held on to Peter's shoulders, trying to fight off the dizziness. The music and other noise in the room seemed to recede into the background. The drug! They had drugged her; Gary must have arranged this.
Panicked, Stacy tried to disentangle herself, but she was unable to do so. Her limbs failed to respond properly, and it was all she could do to hold onto her dance partner in order to keep herself from sinking to the floor. Around and around they went, each revolution sending Stacy's perception spinning, until all she was aware of in the room was Peter. There was nothing else; just a blur of sound and a solid object she could hang onto.
She felt the warm tingling begin in her groin.
A voice! Her eyes opened and struggled to focus on the face in front of her. Peter? Everything else was a blur.
"Do you remember going out with me in high school?"
Remember? Of course she remembered. Stacy nodded in the affirmative, still trying to focus. Why was he asking? The tingle in her groin grew stronger.
"We went on nine dates," Peter murmured to her. "Nine dates..."
Stacy felt one of his hands leave her shoulder, slide down the back of her dress and latch onto her ass. She felt that she should make some objection, but...
"And all I got was one kiss," the voice continued. "One kiss..."
The blonde teenager tried to focus on what Peter was saying, but the hand on her butt was making concentration difficult. She felt the hand pull away...
...and begin pulling the zipper of her dress down her back. She tried to wriggle free, but her arms remained wrapped around Peter's shoulders.
"I don't think that's fair. Do you?"
"N-no." Stacy discovered that she could speak, although even her own voice seemed distant to her. The zipper was now all the way down, and she could feel the cool air of the room on the small of her back. The feelings of arousal increased, spreading up from her crotch into her belly. Involuntarily, she ground her lower body against Peter as the dance continued.
"So," Peter continued, "we're going to work through those dates now. All nine of them. As they should have been."
Stacy tried to shake her head, no. Not here; she wanted him to take her to a bedroom or something... do what he wanted there, but not here. Not in front of...
"First date," he whispered, his tongue licking out at her hear. "A kiss would be nice."
Retreating from her ear, he brought his lips down against hers. She moaned softly, parting her lips, but he quickly pulled away. That felt so good, but not here. Please, not here.
"Second date," he continued. One of the straps of the dress slid off a shoulder. She tried to shrug it back on, but it just slipped further down her arm.
"Maybe some tongue."
This time, he thrust his tongue into her willing mouth. She kissed back, unable to do anything else as a wave of lust surged through her body. Oh god...
The kiss broke, but the dance continued.
The dance continued through the "third date", where he copped a feel of her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Her nipples hardened immediately when he ran his fingers over them.
On the "fourth date", he removed her bra, unclipping it from behind her back and sliding it off. By now, her dress had slid down off the other shoulder, uncovering her back all the way down to the top of her ass and leaving her breasts partly exposed...
More of the same on the "fifth date". Some heavy necking while mauling at her now almost-naked breasts. By now, Stacy was panting with lust, all thought of where she was and who she was with having fled her mind. All that mattered was...
The dance. She missed what he said on the "sixth date", but by the end of the "seventh", she was grinding her crotch against him with abandon...
"Eight date," he panted, hoarse. "It's time you felt my cock."
She didn't need to be told twice. Groaning with lust, she disentangled one arm from around his neck and reached down to his crotch. With an ease born of much practice, she pulled down the zipper and slide his cock free of his pants. It was already damp and rigid...
"Ninth date," he gasped. "You need to be fucked." He looked at her. "Beg for it."
"Please fuck me," she moaned. "I need to be fucked. Please put your lovely cock into me, Peter. Fill me up. Please..."
Peter could take no more. He had been dreaming of this moment for over two years. With a cry, he shoved her back against the wall, pulled one of her legs up, and shoved his cock straight into her dripping pussy. The dress, bunched up at the waist to allow him access to her pussy, fell forward, abandoning any pretence of covering her breasts.
Stacy didn't care.
Holding onto his shoulders, she wrapped both legs around Peter's ass and fucked him right back as he drove her again and again against the wall. She drooled and slobbered and squirmed out her lust, all the time moaning and crying for him to fuck her harder.
The last trembling vestige of orgasm rippled though her beaten body. Groggy, she looked up from the floor where she sat, propped against the wall. Just as she did so, a flash went off... and then another.
Dazed, the blonde teenager looked around. She was lying, practically naked, against the wall, her green dress a shapeless mess around her waist. A group of people - the guests at the party - were standing around, looking down on her and laughing. A few of them had cameras and were using them. She heard the word "slut" and "whore" coming up in conversation.
Were they talking about her?
Just as had happened before, the orgasm seemed to have burned away the effects of the drugs, leaving Stacy clear-headed and sober. Sobbing with embarrassment, she stumbled to her feet, breasts bobbing merrily, clutching her dress around her as the crowd laughed.
Another flash went off.
The dress didn't seem torn, and she quickly had it back over her tits, but she was unable to zip it up on her own. Eyes downward, she pushed her way through the crowd, looking for...
He was standing with a couple of guys near the entrance to the kitchen, drinking a beer. "What... what are you..."
He looked over at her and smirked. "I'd heard that you had become quite a slut since my days at Greenwood. I just wanted to see if it was true."
Stacy stopped talking and began to cry. Yet another flash went off.
"Stop it," she cried, spinning around to strike out at whoever was taking the picture. The blow missed, however, and she succeeded only in letting the front of her dress flop forward again. Two pictures were taken of her re-exposed breasts before she was able to cover up.
Furious, she turned back to Peter. "Take me home," she ordered. "Now."
Peter just laughed. "Are you kidding? Get home yourself, you slut." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. "Take this," he said, handing it to her. "There's a bus depot just down the block. There are buses to Bakersville every couple of hours."
Stunned, she held the ten dollar bill in her hand, staring at him. Eventually, she turned and stumbled through the laughing crowd to the door, still holding her unzipped dress around her.
"And Stacy," Peter called out from behind her.
She turned; maybe he was going to give her a ride after all.
"You were worth every penny."
The crowd roared with laughter as Stacy, tears running down her face, ran out into the cool night air...