CHAPTER 8
THE ONE WITH THE HISTORY LESSON
The big Lincoln Navigator sped through the night on the way back to Godfrey
Daniels High School and the remainder of Tiffany's evening with her tormentors.
Traffic was non-existent, but had there been any, they would have seen a strange
sight: out of the back seat window on the driver's side stuck a cute bare foot.
And out of the passenger's side back seat window, another cute bare foot.
In the back seat, Tiffany was in agony. After she had left the mall with the men
and gotten into the SUV in the parking lot, they had ordered her to strip off her
panties. Mr. White, the principal, had told her they would see how the trip
worked without handcuffs this time, but that they were ready to cuff her again if
she wasn't completely co-operative.
Wedged again in the back seat between Joe Black, the school janitor, and John
Brown, her algebra teacher, the cute cheerleader was ordered to take off the
high-heeled pumps in which she had been strutting around the mall looking like a
slut. She did so willingly, as they had really been hurting her feet. Then White
told her to stick her right foot out the right window, and her left foot out the
left. To make sure she obeyed, Old Joe got out the cuffs and rattled them in her
face.
Although it was difficult, the girl quickly complied, so anxious was she to avoid
being cuffed and helpless again. Fortunately, her cheerleading practice and
teenaged limberness served her well. She went into what amounted to a splits in
the backseat of the Lincoln, and managed, barely, to get each foot out of each
rear window. As soon as they were out, White hit a button in the control panel up
front and both windows began to move upward.
"Nooo!" Tiffany shouted and started to pull her feet in. But in a flash, Black
and Brown each grabbed an ankle firmly in their hands and held her feet in place.
Up, up, up went the power windows, until finally Tiffany's feet were trapped in
place. The glass pinning her ankles to the ceiling wasn't really painful, but the
position was a terrible strain. Her beautiful naked legs were now spread as wide
as they could possible be spread, almost but not quite in a straight line. In
order to accommodate the position, Tiffany had had to scoot her butt forward on
the seat, hiking the black miniskirt up almost to her waist, and completely
exposing her gorgeous blonde pussy to the lustful gazes of the men. The muscles
in her thighs quivered slightly at the difficulty of holding the position, but
Tiffany knew that she had no choice, and that in all probability she would be
trapped like this - spread wide, vulnerable, naked from the waist down - for the
entire half-hour drive back to town.
The teen beauty's big blue eyes were filled with fear and anguish. "Ohh, please,
my legs hurt," she begged her captors. As the Navigator picked up speed, the wind
blew against the naked soles of Tiffany's feet, tickling them slightly, adding
yet another sensation to the over- stimulated girl.
"Hush, Princess," said Tom Green, her English teacher, from the front seat.
"That's what we're going to call you from now on: Princess. You've even got the
crown to prove it," he added, referring to the cheap plastic child's tiara
Tiffany was still wearing. "You've always acted like such the little princess,
and now we're just following through on that. It's going to be a real hoot when
you show up at school tomorrow wearing that tiara, Princess."
The teenager's perfect breasts heaved up and down as she struggled to maintain
her composure at the thought of appearing at school in such a ridiculous mockery.
"Now that we're alone," White said, "we can do without the halter top."
Instantly, Joe Black grabbed the bottom of the skimpy black halter and yanked it
up, and Tiffany's milky white tits spilled out. With the halter now bunched
around her neck and the miniskirt hiked to her waist, all of her lovely charms
were on full display. Her face burned with shame, her leg muscles ached, the wind
tickled her feet, and the SUV pushed on relentlessly.
"Before we start our next game," White told the 16-year-old girl, "I want to tell
you a couple of stories. I suggest you listen well, because your future depends
on how well you understand them.
"As I told you earlier, these games have been going on for about 10 years. I
started it, then Old Joe joined me, then Tom and John. We wait for a student at
Daniels to fuck up, and then we exploit her weakness and blackmail her. Sexual
abuse is part of the game, but after you've fucked 40 or so teenaged girls, the
mind longs for more, er, creative pursuits. So we've been focusing more and more
on entrapping the stuck-up cunts, the cock-teasers, the princesses, the little
girls who walk around like their shit don't stink, and then humiliating them
utterly. Coming up with new ways to accomplish that keeps us on our toes and
keeps the game interesting.
"So far," White continued, "you've performed better than some of our past
victims, but still not quite at the level we expect. Back there in The Rave, for
example, we told you to smile when you were trying on your halter top, and you
didn't. We were shooting the whole thing on video, and it would be much more
effective if it had appeared like you were doing that little number of your own
free will. Now we'll have to have our friend, Mr. Isherwoood, edit the tape, and
it will probably only be snippets of you, stripped to the waist in public being
ogled by a gang. Admittedly, once we get those few shots added on to your ongoing
video, along with the shots of you strutting around the mall like a whore in
heat, it will look to anyone viewing it that you are not under any duress, which
is, of course, the idea. But we hate it when one of our victims makes our little
games harder for us, and when we hate something, it makes us even more creative
and even nastier. So I suggest you get with the fucking program, Princess!"
Tiffany sniffled, and shuddered. They were madmen! But she was trapped, so she
simply said, very meekly, "Yes, sir."
"Now let me tell you about a little girl named Claire. This was about eight years
ago, and Claire was a senior at Daniels. An honor student. National Honor
Society. Salutatorian. Played first violin in the school orchestra. A virgin. A
little on the thin side, but a real beauty. She could have been a model. Such a
good girl. But to keep her grades up and manage all of her workload, Claire had
developed a bit of a speed habit. Not a lot, just sometimes, for studying. One of
her teachers suspected, and sent her to me. I did a search of her purse -
illegal, of course, but I guess Claire wasn't that bright after all - and found a
few capsules.
"The game was on, and for awhile, it went pretty much the way yours was going. We
started with some videos, to get even more blackmailing material on Claire. While
she technically was cooperative, at every step she made it difficult for us.
She'd threaten to tell her parents, or she'd cry throughout a video shoot to make
it unusable, on and on. What a pain in the ass!
"Her attitude just pissed us off. Normally, we cut our girls loose after we've
had our fun, and let them go back to their little teenaged lives, dry-humping
boys in the backs of cars and watching MTV or whatever the hell they do. But not
Claire. We felt she hadn't learned her lesson, so when she went away to Harvard,
we kept tabs on her. We flew up midway through her freshman year with a video
from her senior year of her giving eight consecutive blowjobs to some guys we
recruited, her face clearly visible, and told her we'd show it to her boyfriend
and all her teachers if she didn't make a new one. We rented a hotel room, and
tied her down spread-eagle on the bed, and brought in a German Shepherd we'd
borrowed from a friend.
Tiffany's heart was racing as White told the story. My God, she thought, these
men are worse monsters than I thought! A dog! Oh my God!
"Little Princess Claire freaked out, but fortunately she was well tied and
thoroughly gagged. We spread Alpo all over her pussy and turned the Shepherd
loose. His big, rough tongue started licking, and licking, and licking. We'd
tucked some Alpo well up inside her, and he was rooting that nose up into her
pussy, and lapping for all he was worth. Pretty soon the inevitable happened.
Against her will, Claire started to get turned on by the dog going down on her.
She stopped struggling, and started bucking her hips upward. We took the panty
gag out of her mouth and instead of screaming for help, she started moaning,
"Ohhh, Jesus, yes, Jesus, don't stop! That feels so good!" And right there on the
bed, Claire had herself one shattering, mind-blowing orgasm from being licked by
a dog.
"That's when we told her we had been surreptitiously taping the whole show. She'd
forgotten how devious we were, and when she didn't see a video camera and started
focusing on the dog, she just forgot everything. That was one of our all-time
best videos, and we showed it to Claire. Although the Internet was pretty new at
that point, we'd managed to get in touch with a Japanese businessman who had
offered us big money for that kind of tape, or several other types. We told
Claire she could either continue to cooperate, or we'd sell the tape. She didn't
know if she'd ever even visit Japan, but the thought of a bunch of Japs sitting
around watching her orgasm with a dog and whacking off had a powerful effect. We
turned off the video camera and boned that Harvard freshman up the ass for one
solid hour. She was still so turned on from Rover that with a little tweaking on
her clit, she came over and over even when Old Joe had his rather impressive
piston at work. Hell," White added with an evil leer, "especially when Old Joe
was working that ass!
"So flash forward a few years," White continued. "Claire graduated Harvard, went
to Law School, made Law Review, got a great job on a partnership track at a top
firm in New York. She was about 26 now. This would have been about six months
ago. The four of us flew to New York and made an appointment to see a Mr. Mason,
the senior partner in the firm. We told him we had important information about a
young woman at his firm who was about to be made a full partner. We played Mr.
Mason the video of Claire and the dog, and man, I thought his eyes were gonna pop
out of his head. It was a risk, we knew. The guy could have had us arrested, but
we gambled that most men, faced with the opportunity we were presenting to Mr.
Mason, would take the low road, the testosterone highway. Not only did he pay us
nicely for the tape, but we signed a contract, that if we ever needed legal
representation, he would provide it pro bono. Sooner or later, we figure, some
little girl is going to squeal on us, and there's going to be a trial. But we not
only have high-priced counsel on call, we have the tapes. Any girl dumb enough to
go to the authorities is going to have to sit up on that witness stand, while Mr.
Mason plays the videos we've taken of her, carefully edited so that everything
looks non- coerced.
"Imagine yourself on that witness stand, Tiffany, with your family in the
audience, and your friends, watching that video of you masturbating and sucking a
dick, with a table full of drug paraphernalia spread out in front of you, and
trying to explain it. Or stripping off your top and strutting around a mall like
a bitch in heat. But I digress.
"Mr. Mason told Claire that he was sponsoring a small retreat that weekend with
some powerful lawyers at other firms, but not to tell anyone at the firm because
it might be construed as favoritism. When Claire showed up at the resort, Mason
played the video for her, and then dictated the deal: He would make her a full
partner in the firm, and in return, she would be his sex slave. The guy was in
his 60s, and sometimes had trouble getting it up, but he found that whipping
Claire's ass until it bled got him good and hard.
"So now, every weekend, Claire meets Mason in an expensive hotel room in New
York, where the walls are so thick they're virtually soundproof. He orders her to
strip, and he gags her with her own panties, so her screams are muffled. Then he
has her lay face down on the coffee table, and straps her wrists and ankles to
the legs, immobilizing her. A couple of pillows from the bed are pushed under her
tummy, raising her ass up, presenting it as a target. Mason reaches into his
briefcase and pulls out a thin, supple switch, and proceeds to just beat the
bejeesus out of Claire's ass and the backs of her thighs for a good half hour.
Then, when he's good and hard, he sodomizes her - fucks her up the ass, which
probably really hurts since she's covered with raw, bleeding welts.
"And that is Claire's life for the foreseeable future, Princess."
The beautiful cheerleader was speechless. Her mind churned with the images her
principal had planted there, of a high school honors student who was now the toy
of a cruel and sadistic boss. She knew that somehow she had to avoid Claire's
fate, although she wasn't sure just how far these men would push her. But she
would do anything, she vowed silently, anything!
"Remember the part about the Japanese businessman?" White asked. Tiffany was
silent.
"Hey, Princess, I asked you a direct question!" he barked.
"Yes, sir," she blurted out. "Yes, I remember!"
"Well, we've been corresponding via e-mail for some time, and the market in Japan
just gets stronger and stronger. It seems the really rich perverts over there are
have burned out on anything that smacks remotely of commercially produced. They
want fresh victims, with the emphasis on victims. Real girls, American, innocent,
being defiled and abused in ways that are even a bit disgusting for us. That's
why occasionally we farm out some of our video work to a guy we'll call Dr. Wu.
You know, like the Steely Dan song: "Are you crazy, are you high, or just an
ordinary guy?"
Tiffany had never heard the song, but responded quickly: "Yes, sir!"
"Anyway, Dr. Wu is where we send girls who really a need a wake-up call. OK, not
girls. So far it's only been one girl. Tara O'Hara. She was two years ago. One
week a nice, normal high school girl, the next week, a total wreck. I hear she's
a crack whore now in Dallas, giving blow jobs for $25 a pop.
"Any rate," White continued, "we were at the mall one night with Tara, playing
pretty much the same game we were with you tonight. Little Tara can't stand it,
and breaks away from us when she sees a security guard and goes running up to
him, babbling about how she's been kidnapped by those men over there, and they're
going to rape her, yada yada yada.
"We thought the jig was up. Fortunately, mall security guards are not always your
most upstanding citizens. We quietly offered the guy a sizable bribe and a
half-hour with Tara in his office. Of course, he took it. And he took her. Rather
roughly, from the look of her when she staggered out.
"But Tara needed to be taught a lesson, so we made her call her parents from the
mall and tell them she was staying over at a friend's house. We drove straight to
Dr. Wu's cabin, way out in the boonies. Nobody around for miles. The kind of
place where a girl can scream and scream, and no one will ever hear her, except
for a bunch of horny Japanese businessmen watching the tape of her screaming.
"Dr. Wu made several videos of Tara that night, aimed at different markets. One
of the milder ones was for guys who like watching a girl get pissed on. He
brought in half a dozen bikers, gave 'em a few beers each, propped her mouth open
and let 'em all line up and take their turn. She just about choked to death, but
managed to swallow most of it. Then there was a doggie tape, only Dr. Wu didn't
stop like we did with Claire with just licking. He had a couple of Great Danes
mount Tara and fuck her half to death. One in the pussy, one in the ass.
"Then he made what he called the toys tape, which means different things that
were used to fuck little Tara. He started out small, with a pool cue, then moved
on to a beer bottle. Gradually, her pussy was lubricating and she got looser, so
he moved up to a cop's nightstick, a kitchen glass, a billiard ball. He finished
her off with the fat end of a baseball bat. Got it in about six inches, if I
remember correctly. Six inches of Louisville Slugger. Man, you should have heard
her howl.
"And while he was filming the finale, you know what song he was playing on his
boombox, Princess? That song by the Beastie Boys that goes "I did her like this,
I did her like that, I did her with a whiffle ball bat." That Dr. Wu has one sick
sense of humor, but one eclectic appreciation of popular music!" the evil
principal chuckled. He took a breath, then continued.
"Finally, there were the torture tapes. Because she had to go back to her family,
he was not able to do anything causing permanent damage, which limited him
somewhat. But you'd be surprised what a sustained beating with a rubber garden
hose on the soles of the feet can do. Or how an expert can use a cigarette
lighter and hold it just close enough to a girl's nipples and pussy to make them
unbelievably painful, yet not cause any actual burns. Electricity is pretty good,
too. You shove a metal dildo up a girl's cunt, attach alligator clips to her
nipples, and attach them both to a hand-cranked generator. Then let her rip!
Yeehaw! Little Tara had thought she was screamed out from the baseball bat till
she started getting jolts from volts!
"And all this, Princess, was being done to a sweet little girl, only 15, a year
younger than you. We split the profits of the tapes with Dr. Wu. Tara, as I said,
was completely broken by her night in the cabin and never even graduated.."
Mr. White paused. "And that's what happens to little Princesses who don't get
with the program, Miss Tiffany Daniels."
The luscious young backseat beauty was in shock. She was beginning to
hyperventilate again, and her luscious breasts bounced with the increasing gasps
of air she was taking. She was hardly aware of the pain in the muscles of her
widely stretched legs, or the presence of the men on either side of her in the
back seat.
"So you are facing a choice, Princess," White said. "You can give less than 100
percent cooperation, and face the fate of Claire or even Tara. Or you can go
along with us, do exactly what we tell you, never question an order, and do
everything we tell you with a smile, as if it was your idea, your fondest
fantasy. If you do that, we promise you we will not cause you any real physical
pain. That's not what we're into. We also promise that you will remain a virgin,
at least technically. That's as much for our own protection. We don't like
wearing rubbers, and a pregnancy is just too messy to deal with. Finally, if you
cooperate, eventually we will get tired of you, and some new little piece of
teenaged fluff will present itself, and we'll move on, and you'll be left with
only a set of interesting memories, but can go about the rest of your life.
"So what's it gonna be, Princess?"
"I I I I'll cooperate, sir," Tiffany stammered. "I'll do whatever you say. Please
don't hurt me like those other girls." She has no choice, she told herself. No
choice. It was out of her hands.
"That's a good princess," White said. "And who knows? Maybe not every moment will
be torture. We like to see our playthings having a good time, like you did that
first night with Mr. Green. There are few things more wondrous than a beautiful
teenaged girl having a body-shattering orgasm, or a string of them. And with
that, let's have some music."
White pulled a CD out of the console beside him, pushed it into the Lincoln's
player, and hit the advance button several times. The track he wanted came on,
filling the SUV with the sound of Mick Jagger's nasty vocals, more than 30 years
old:
"Under my thumb
The girl who once had me down
Under my thumb
The girl who once pushed me around
It's down to me
The difference in the clothes she wears
Down to me, the change has come,
She's under my thumb ..."
"Why don't you relax as best you can, Tiffany, and the guys back there will make
you feel good," White suggested. Old Joe the janitor and Mr. Brown needed no more
prompting. Immediately, Old Joe put his fingers up to the opening of her young
pussy and ordered, "Push those ben-wa balls out, baby." Tiffany, obedient, did
just that, and the two metal balls pooped out into Joe's hand. They were wet with
her pussy juice, and they left her young twat wide open.
"Here's a little something to fill up that opening," Joe said, and pushed a pink
vibrator up inside her. He flicked a switch at the end, and the small machine
began to hum and vibrate inside Tiffany's highly stimulated vagina.
While Joe was busy with her pussy, Mr. Brown reached into a soft drink cup he'd
gotten at the food court and pulled out a large piece of ice. He reached over and
began to run the ice on her left nipple. The tip-tit, shocked by the cold, began
to grow erect. Around and around went the piece of ice, making Tiffany's nipple
grow more and more engorged with blood. When it reached its peak, he transferred
the ice to her right nipple and began to rub again, making it erect as well.
"Since your hands aren't cuffed, Princess, I want you to reach down and pull on
your pussy lips and hold 'em open," Joe ordered. "But no fair touching your clit.
That's gonna be our job."
Tiffany, still scared to death of the threats, obeyed meekly, pulling her pussy
lips wide with both hands. Her little clit popped out from under its hood,
looking like a small, moist pearl, glistening with desire.
"Yum yum yum," murmured the older janitor. He licked his thumb, and then pressed
it down, gently but firmly, on Tiffany's hot, throbbing clit, and began to
massage it in a circle.
Tiffany inhaled sharply. It felt soooooo good. Her horniness had temporarily
vanished when she was being publicly stripped and displayed inside The Rave, and
later, during White's long history lesson. But her erotic feelings had really
just been pushed below the surface. She had, after all, spent half an hour
walking through the mall with ben-wa balls jammed up her pussy, stretching her
and massaging the sugar walls of her teenaged twat.
Mr. Black leaned over and began to whisper in her ear. "I gotta tell ya, sweetie,
back there in the mall, you may have been the sexiest girl on the face of the
earth. You looked so sweet and so hot, like Chinese mustard, baby, prancing
around in those high, high heels, that teeny tiny skirt, that sexy top." His
voice had a low, monotonous quality, almost hypnotic. "You got the longest,
sexiest legs of any girl at Daniels High, sweet cakes. Those titties of yours are
magnificent. And what's more, you know it, don't you girl? You know how hot and
sexy you are. You love how the boys all want to have sex with you, how the male
teachers all try to look up your skirt, how everyone ogles those tits. You love
it, Princess."
And all the while Joe was cooing into her ear, telling Tiffany her own secrets,
she continued to hold open her pussy lips with both hands, and Joe continued to
rub her clit, which was getting bigger and bigger, redder and redder. It was if
the tiny organ had a mind of its own and was straining upward for release at
Joe's hand. And Mr. Brown, on her other side, kept rubbing the ice over her
nipples, which were so hard Tiffany thought they might explode, that she might
explode, that she was hovering on the brink of an explosion, that she was getting
close and closer to her orgasm, and the vibrator in her pussy was buzzing and
buzzing, and the wind tickled her toes as they stuck out the windows. She was
going to cum so hard, so hard, and Joe's thumb was moving faster and faster, and
it was a blur, the nipples, the pussy, the legs spread so wide, the clit, the
toes, and she was getting so close, so close....
Tiffany wasn't even aware that she was moaning, over and over, oh yessss, Oh God
yesss, feel so goooood.
And Jagger spat out the words and the music of the Stones filled the Lincoln,
which smlled strongly of musky teenaged pussy:
"Under my thumb
The squirmin' dog who's just had her day
Under my thumb
A girl who has just changed her ways
It's down to me, yes it is
The way she does just what she's told
Down to me, the change has come
She's under my thumb."
And as she got closer, images from Mr. White's stories kept flashing through her
mind, disgusting things, hateful things, about girls being fucked by dogs, being
raped by old men, being tied down and whipped, on their bare ass, being fucked
with beer bottles and baseball bats, and being whipped, and fucked, and fucked up
the ass, and dogs' cocks, and she had no choice, she had to give in to them, it
was out of her hands, she was their slave, she was a sex slave, and she was
getting closer, she was almost there...
"That's enough, guys!" ordered Mr. White, who'd been watching in the rear view
mirror. Instantly, Brown and Black stopped what they were doing, withdrew their
hands.
"Nooooo!" wailed the poor cheerleader, jolted from her dark and jumbled fantasy.
She was teetering right on the brink of the biggest climax of her life. Without
even thinking, she whipped both hands down to her clit and began to rub it in a
frenzy, trying to get over that edge.
And again, she was thwarted, as the two men each grabbed a wrist and yanked her
hands away.
"Pleeeeease! Pleeeeease!" the blonde beauty pleaded.
"No way, Princess," said White coldly. "You don't come until we do. But this is
our exit, and we're five minutes from school, so let's end the evening with a
bang, so to speak, and we'll all get our ya-yas out."
"A siamese cat of a girl
Under my thumb
She's the sweetest, mmm, pet in the world," sang Jagger in his anthem of
dominance and control.
Tiffany's mind was a tangle of dark thoughts, unholy fantasies and images that
she had never thought of in her 16 years, but over all, overwhelmingly, the
desire to cum. Then she felt something, tickling her clit. She opened her eyes,
and saw that Mr. Brown was bending over her lap, over her obscenely splayed
thighs and wide-open pussy, holding the plastic straw from his soft drink, and
blowing on her clit!
It tickled. Wildly. It stimulated her, but not enough. The short puffs of his
breath struck her clit, and where normally it would not bother her at all, now it
was the most maddening thing she had ever felt. It was if the blasts of air were
keeping her clit super-sensitive, keeping her aware of her own pussy, her deep
and abiding horniness.
Her head rolled back against the seat, her hair flying from side to side as Brown
and Black securely held her wrists.
"You ready to cum, Princess?" whispered Black. "You ready?"
"Yes! Yes! Please!" she begged.
"Here's the school parking lot," said White, as Green, in the front seat, shut
off the video camera that had been recording Tiffany's frenzied begging for an
orgasm. "Joe, would you go unlock the cafeteria? Not much longer, Princess
Tiffany, and you'll have some orgasms you'll never forget.
He didn't add, because he didn't need to, that she wouldn't be the only one.
* * *
