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From: "wendy caulder" <she_cries@ftml.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Ariel: a Punk rock girl - The School Dance - Ch-3 and 4 (Mm/f, nc, humil)   by she cries
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Date: Thu,  7 Apr 2005 08:10:01 -0400
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Punk Rock Girl - The School Dance - Ch-3&4
Mm/f, nc, humil, exhib

by she cries - she_cries@ftml.net

Ch-3

That first step into the gym was a horrifying experience. In any normal
day the gym was a pretty ugly place for a girl to find herself. Stale
sweat, shouting boys, giggling girls clustered in their groups like
white blood cells goggled up behind a zit attacking bacteria (which
usually turned out to be me). In assemblies there would be a thousand of
us packed in here, people shouting, fucking with each other, jocks and
razor-bitches stamping through like they owned the place. Teachers
looking for trouble seemed to always hone in on me, though I never did
anything (well, not often) just because I was the freakiest.

Tonight it was infinitely worse. The lights were dim and strobing reds,
blues, and greens flew around the space The ugly mass of kids were
gathered in a half-ring around the court to my left. In the middle of
them the DJ was set up in front of the girl's locker room in the middle
of the wall. There was a table with those big McDonald's punch servers
on it blocking the entrance to the boy's locker room. Between the throng
and the DJ were a bunch of really shitty dancers. There were a few dozen
people, maybe a hundred packed in there. A pathetic mass of teenage
hormones trying to mate. I'd already found my mates, seven goblin-headed
boys, most of whom thought I was a bandy legged scarecrow, but would
fuck me anyway, because they were boys, and because I was ready for
them, ready, willing--desperate, in fact. I was actually dying to have
them take me, to overwhelm me, to get the damned thing over with so I
could go home and kill myself in peace.

All around big, fake palm trees had been stood up by some ass-licking
committee of idiot girls and their pussy-whipped boyfriends. Tropical
was the theme, apparently, which explained the two girls I'd seen in
hula skirts outside. Tables were scattered to the right end of the gym.
They were mostly empty, the student body preferring to dance or watch
the dancer and wish they were dancing, scoping out their lusts of
choice. This meant, fortunately, that my utter humiliation, was hidden;
forestalled for the moment because no one appeared to have noticed our
appearance.

Mrs. Dee and Jefferson were dragging a pair of guys, two black students
I recognized as new transfers, straight at us. I just stared, delirious
and numb. Bill and Ronnie were frantic, and tried to pull me in two
directions at once. Jerry rescued them, calling out from behind a
cluster of the trees to the right of the doors, not far from the
bathrooms. I was dragged by my loving guardians where we hunkered down
behind the trees until Mrs. Dee and the others made it out the door.

My only hope was that they would distract her Mrs. Dee would forget the
last girl she had cited for violating the dress code. It was a stupid
hope. She knew me, and she had stripped me bare. She'd seen everything.

Still, I was about to get gang banged. Any little bright light...

The boy's breathed relief when the doors slammed shut. So did I, though
I had no reason to, in the clutches of this mass of testosterone. Five
jocks were there. Five JV jerseys and five gloating, imbecilic faces.

"What is she doing here." One cluster of muscle asked.

"She lost the bet," Jerry opined, pulling a bottle out of his jacket and
unscrewing it. It looked like one of those flavored Jack Daniel's
drinks. "She owes us."

I bit back a protest. I was in no position to argue with them.

One of Jerry's friends glared at me with contempt. I squatted on the
floor next to Ronnie, half dressed but for a shirt, the cluster of my
dress, and my knee high boots which exaggerated the knobby knees and
skinny thighs that stuck out the top. "I ain't fucking that." He
uncapped a mini bottle of Red Rum and swigged at it. "She can suck my
dick if she takes that stupid thing out of her mouth."

"Fuck you!" I cried, and struggled to get up, but Ronnie and Bill held
me down.

"In your dreams," Red Rum taunted me, looking at Bill, "She's got to
have like syphilis or something."

Jerry jabbed his friend in the ribs, "She says she's a virgin."

The lot of them broke out laughing. Another guy took the bottle from
Jerry and said, "That whore. She's like the geek slut of the school."
They laughed some more, and Bill leaned across me to Ronnie.

"Where we gonna do this?"

I knew he was talking about taking me.

Ronnie looked around, "Side door doesn't look too busy."

Both Bill and I regarded the emergency exit at the far end of the gym.
We all knew it wasn't locked, and that the big alarm warning signs
didn't work. We'd all used them to sneak out of gym class.

"Give me a drink." Bill told Jerry, who handed him the jack. Bill
offered a swig to me, but Jerry protested,

"Don't let her fucking drink from that. She'll get herpes all over it."

Four boys laughed, though Bill just took a swig.

Ronnie pulled a mini bottle out of a pocket and gave it to me. I saw him
holding my purse, but it seemed a petty thing to ask for it back, so I
looked at the little bottle of vodka. `Stolichnaya' it read.

"Hey Jerry, check it out." Ronnie handed a Polaroid of me up to his
friend. I saw it was the snap of me facing the camera, and I tried to
snag it, but Jerry pushed my hand away as if I were in slow motion and
took it while Ronnie held me back.

"Drink" Ronnie whispered.

"That's pathetic!" Jerry opined, sharing the snap with his friends.

Red Rum disagreed, "Her tits ain't bad."

"Dude!" Jerry wasn't put off his course, "Nice tits ain't gonna make up
for that face."

I steamed in my own vapors, enraged, humiliated, ashamed. I wasn't
surprised to realize how rapidly my arousal had faded in the wake of the
insults. The hovering aura that had so overwhelmed me was gone, and I
was left alone, still hot, still horny, but by no means reacting to
every little touch, and in no way was I relishing the thought of
surrendering willingly to this mass of men.

I looked at the bottle in my hands and uncapped it. I had never taken a
drink before, but I tipped it back and poured the whole thing in my
mouth, gulping it down.

Suddenly I was hacking and coughing. With so much force that Ronnie and
Bill jumped aside, and I fell forward onto my hands and knees, violent
spasms shaking my head, wracking my sides. I thought I was going to die.
I couldn't believe that people drank that shit for fun.

As my hacking faded I heard the laughter shining through. I realized
that I was on my knees, my dress lay in a pile under me, my bare ass
sticking up as I struggled for control.

"You are not going to fuck that!" he laughed, "No, I can't let you do
that. I wouldn't be a friend if I did."

They were all breaking up into hysterical laughter.

"Seriously," Jerry went on, "I'll spring for a ten dollar hooker. I want
to be able to look at myself in the morning."

If my head hadn't been spinning so hard with the alcohol I would have
jumped up and killed him, right there. No one would have asked any
questions, a girl alone, almost naked in a crowded room surrounded by
jocks. They'd have to believe my story and only give me a few years for
manslaughter. That would be worth it to put an end to this.

But between my latent arousal, my fear, and the abruptness with which
the alcohol had worked on me, I was unable to do anything but lean back
on my haunches and take what they were dishing out. My head was swimming
badly.

"Hey, slut." Red Rum called. When I didn't respond he kicked my foot,
and I jumped, "Yo, punk bitch, let's see those tits."

I looked around me. Bill and Ronnie leaned against the palm trees, Jerry
and the other two clustered between Bill and the wall, and the only way
out was right onto the dance floor. I looked from face to face, and
aside from the peculiar look on Bill's face I saw nothing like mercy.

Suddenly I was desperate for something to numb the crushing humiliation
that was overwhelming me, "Give me another drink."

Bill started to hand me his bottle, but Red Rum put his foot on my
shoulder as I leaned for it and shoved me back, "Show us, and you can
have a drink."

I swallowed hard. He was making me a whore, exposing myself for favors,
but that barely hit me compared to the accumulated indignities I was
suffering. I took a moment to turn around to face him, taking the
opportunity to pull the G-string out of my ass and liberate my labia
from exposure to the elements and from rubbing raw against the heels of
my boots.

Why didn't I just start screaming? Just scream. It would end, right
there.

I tried to look up at him, but couldn't, veering my eyes to the wall,
and slamming them shut.

There was a moment of silence.

"Now that is a nice rack." I heard Red Rum say.

Jerry was on top of that, "Yeah, but that doesn't make up for that bony
ass. What, you gonna fuck her tits?"

"Naw, they're too far apart."

"I like those nipples." Someone said.

I felt a cold hand grapple my right boob and shuddered as the
electricity began to surge once again through me. I opened my eyes and
saw Red Rum on one knee in front of me, his rough, clumsy fingers pawing
at me, but my adrenaline was so high and my hormones so overcharged that
it was like he'd tapped a massive floodgate and waves of ecstasy
straddled me as he pawed at my rigid nipple, nearly my whole breast
fitting neatly into his large hand.

"Dude," he said to his friends, but locking eyes with me, "What a
fucking slut."

I slammed the shirt down, backing away, "Where's my drink?" I demanded.

More laughter, and Jerry taunted me with a little white bottle. "This
what you want?"

My head was swimming with the booze, and my body aglow with arousal, but
not nearly enough, "Give it to me."

"You gotta beg, slut." He held it out and I made a wild lunge for it,
but he held it back and I was back on my hands and knees.

"That's it, now beg."

I looked at his feet, "I already showed you my tits."

I heard Jerry say, "That was for Bones. Now you gotta do something for
me."

"Just give it to her," there was Bill again, sticking up for me.

"Aw, come on, Bill, you actually like this slut?"

"Fuck her if you want to, but don't fucking humiliate her."

I scowled at Bill, "I don't want your fucking pity if you're just gonna
sit there!"

But the bottle clattered between my hands, and I scrambled for it,
clumsily unscrewing the top and chugging it down. Make it go away. Make
them go away I pleaded with the little bottle. It was much smoother than
the vodka, and I didn't sputter at all.

"How can you humiliate a slut who has no shame?" Jerry was asking his
friend. "She's a whore. She'll fuck anything that moves."

Red Rum, who they called Bones disagreed, "No, a goth'll fuck anything
that moves, a punk'll just fuck anything."

I glowered at him through their laughter, the bottle still in between my
lips. "You're an asshole."

"Here" he said, reaching into his pocket and squatting down in front of
me, "I'll make it up to you." He pulled out a pack of Camels and reached
out for me.

I was frozen, what was he going to do next. Half of me cried out to
retreat, to run as fast as possible. The other half, the half that
controlled my body waited, eagerly anticipating the sensations that
would accompany his touch.

My eyes closed as I felt a finger touch my crotch. Oh my god! This was
it. I was going to go over the edge. I just knew it. He was going to
touch me and I would lose all control. Stabbing pains shot into my gut,
my belly afire, my loins about to explode, I felt him stick a finger
under the triangle, I was shuddering violently, "Oh god, please." I
heard myself cry as he pulled the cloth forward, exposing me, and the
string tugged through the cleft of my ass. I spread my legs and leaned
back, preparing for the inevitable as I panted, gasping and squealing
with convulsions as if he'd already started to ravage me.

But something hard jammed against my pubic bush, sharp corners poking
into me, and the G-string snapped back into place.

"What a fucking whore!" I heard Jerry cry out, and they laughed more as
I looked down and realized that Bones had shoved the Camels into the
G-string. I was leaning back, my hands stretched behind me, my legs bent
at the knee but splayed wide. What had happened to me, I didn't know? I
had just completely surrendered, ready for a bit of contact, ready to
get it started, but he had just used my acquiescence as another excuse
to humiliate me.

I wasn't sure whether to be astonished by the sheer stupidity of boys,
or if I should take the sleight as an indication of my status among
these boys in particular, but I didn't have to ponder that question for
long, fortunately.

"Come on," Ronnie was saying, grabbing up my discarded dress. I'd have
to follow him now, or else streak across the gym. "Let's do this." And
he peered around the paper mache trees to the side door. The other boys
followed his gaze, and I realized with deadly revelation that the games
were over. They were now going to take me outside and down to the creek.
Once there, I would do anything they wanted. I'd probably beg for it
too, just like Ronnie had predicted, considering the way I was behaving.
He scooted over to get a better look at the door, my clothes gathered
loosely in his lap as he crouched, my purse discarded on the floor.

Bill looked back at me, his friends occupied with the door.

"Coast looks clear," Jerry said, eager to get started like his friend in
spite of his overtures of disgust at me.

Ronnie held him back, "Wait. Bones, get Nick, and Steve. We'll meet you
at the creek."

No longer an impulsive foray, Ronnie had been coldly calculating how to
go about this while his friends mocked me, "Jerry, you and Mickey take
her, I'll cover you while Bill goes for the door."

My eyes were fixed on Bill's. He just watched me and gave a simple shake
of the head. All the fear and terror welled up inside me, crushing my
raging hormones under the weight of total desperation. No matter how
aroused I might be now, seven guys would tear me apart. If I lived to
see the end of the night I'd be a ruined mass of bones and flesh, unable
to lift my head in school ever again.

The willpower that had abandoned me for so much of the night reasserted
itself, and the crushing shame was driven back by the need to survive,
to get away, to save myself, my virginity, and what was left of my
sanity.

I looked at my dress on Ronnie's lap, my belts dangled out an arms reach
away from me. They were fixated on the door I couldn't see, waiting for
something.

I didn't wait any longer.

Grabbing the belts I scooped up my purse and took off, I felt Ronnie
seize up on the dress but it came free as I sprinted into the open,
"Grab her!" I heard an enraged shout. I couldn't tell who it was. I
bolted across the wide open space past the entrance, scrambling across
the hardwood floor, making for the cove of fake trees on the far side. I
dove into place, skidding and slamming up against them, wadding up in a
ball afraid someone might see, or that the fake palms would come
crashing down to reveal me to the assembly. I huddled there for a long
minute, afraid of pursuit, waiting for hands to come bearing down on me
to drag me to my destiny. I'd go kicking and screaming if they tried
that. As horny as I was I knew I couldn't let them get outside with me.
I knew I had to flee but I was too terrified to move again. I was
surrounded by so many people, so scantily clad. Paralysis gripped me,
and all I could do was try not to shiver too much for fear that my
rattling bones would give me away.

Finally I managed to poke my head out. Four faces peered out from the
faux fronds. They were yards and yards away. I had dashed, bare ass and
all twenty or thirty feet to freedom and not been seen. Now they guys
were too scared to come after me. Maybe they figured out that I wasn't
their patsy any more. Maybe they'd seen some fight and were now scared.

Then again it seemed that Mrs. Dee had just let in another batch of
students. Five girls complaining a lot stood by the doorway. Whether
cowardice or providence, I had a chance to escape.

Not far from me, in the opposite direction along the wall, was a stack
of speakers. Normally such a secluded spot would attract a young horny
couple, but it was vacant (no doubt due to the policy of not allowing
thongs into the dance). I scooted along the wall, behind the line of
would-be dancers, holding my dress up and counting on haste, rather than
modesty to hide me from a casual glance. The sense of freedom from the
jocks, I will admit gave the act of streaking a subtle thrill as the
wind blew through my legs, in spite of the risk. I'd spent countless
hours running around this room in uniform. The realization that I was
doing it in my sluttiest panties and half a shirt on made me tingle all
over. As I sneaked into the speaker stack and vibrations overcame me I
felt aghast that I was actually tempted to try it again. Hell, I was
even considering taking my shirt off. Was the sexual thrill worth the
distraction it might give me? I thought. I must be seriously fucked up
if I'm fantasizing about making it worse.

I started to straighten out the bundle in my hands, but was horrified to
discover that aside from the pink wrap and my belts, the dress was gone,
probably still in Ronnie's clutches.

It was enough to cover my ass with, at any rate. I shook it out, letting
the belts fall to the floor and wrapped it around me like a towel,
forging sort of a straight, knee-length skirt. It was just long enough
when it wasn't bunched up, to cover my backside and lay twice over the
front, which meant I could walk freely without flashing anyone. I tucked
it in, and picked up the belts, strapping them into place tightly as the
skirt was no longer bunched enough to hold them up, but I had long ago
punched new holes in them to fit my emaciated girth.

I felt the sweat cooling on my body, the cool breeze blowing right
through the armholes and setting goose pimples on my boobs, reminding me
I was still very exposed up top. I could live with that providing no one
looked too closely (which meant avoiding the male sex entirely, so I'd
have to count on luck that no teachers would see me). My ass was
covered, and that's what mattered. Anyone glancing at me would see a
girl in a normal skirt and a tank top. One who's tits jiggled
dramatically, granted, and whose nipples protruded violently through the
fabric off which the shirt seemed to hang, but that wasn't as bad as
being nearly nude below the ribs.

More comfortable now I noticed the cigarettes that Bones had lodged in
my G-string. I had completely forgotten them. I was shocked to discover
how just the act of removing them sent shivers over my body. I was still
terribly horny, in spite of the humiliation and shame (or utterly
traumatized because of it). I glanced in the pack and saw it was half
full, a lighter tucked unto the empty space.

Well, I figured, now was a probably a good time to take up smoking.


CH-4


I found my purse halfway between my hiding places. With the loud music
and the perverse thrill of streaking through the dance half naked I must
have dropped it while running from Ronnie and his crew and not noticed.
I saw Bones and Jerry lurking in their trees, still. They looked nervous
and paranoid, and that made me feel empowered. They'd crossed a line and
knew it, and now I was out of their clutches. I could fuck them mightily
if I could get anyone to believe me. Still, I was scared of them, so I
moved out onto the dance floor, shoving the smokes in the purse. I was
dressed now, and thought I had nothing to fear as long as I stayed with
the crowds except for wandering eyeballs with predilections towards
exposed boobage. I'd just scream my head off if one of them tried
anything. No one would believe me, but they'd be watching, and Jerry and
his friends would back off.

The alcohol buzzed around in my head and I staggered awkwardly through
the crowd at the edge of the dance floor. I crossed my arm tightly over
my chest to minimize jiggle. Every time I bumped into someone I'd jump,
terrified it would be Ronnie, or one of his friends.

I had to get out of there, and find a way back home. It would be cold,
but I would be safe. The problem is that they had locked the gym down so
no one could get out to tell the students waiting in line about the
searches. I would have found a teacher, told them I was sick. But I
could taste the liquor and I was even more scared of facing Mrs. Dee
again, and another strip search. At any rate there didn't seem to be any
teachers in the gym whatsoever.

I still had the green slip Mrs. Dee had written out for me. I reasoned
that if I played hooky for a couple days she'd think I'd been suspended,
but if I were caught again I'd have to explain how I'd gotten into the
gym in the first place, and I doubted anyone would believe my story,
about my near abduction. I didn't have a bruise on my body to show for
it. Usually a girl has to have a guys cum dripping all over her in order
to prove she's been sexually assaulted. I shuddered as I remembered
Ronnie's grimy fingers pressing into me. How I'd held my legs open and
let him do it.

I shook that thought off quickly. I considered the side doors. They were
unattended, if clearly visible from most of the room but not on the
dance floor, where most of the students were. I remembered the way Jerry
and Ronnie got serious when they got down to the business of getting me
out of the gym. They would be watching that entrance, I was sure; I'd
ultimately end up right where they wanted me. Alone, out in the open
with them. Even with a head start I had no illusions about being able to
outrun seven Junior Varsity players. If they caught me I doubted that I
would have the willpower to fight them off, or even offer any
resistance--not that fighting them would stop them from raping me. I
hated myself, but I guess it was better to be honest about the state I
was in.

I didn't have many choices. The DJ was set up in front of the girl's
locker room, but the drink table was barely blocking the boy's. They
didn't lock the locker room doors either. They were fire exits.

I saw a few people milling about, getting punch from the big yellow
coolers, mostly nerds like me who weren't going to dance much, but I
still hadn't seen any teachers. They were probably too busy enforcing
their draconian new restrictions. I'd just have to scoot behind the
table and slip away. Disdained and mocked though I was, no student was
likely going to run to a teacher to rat me out for sneaking out the
boy's locker room. Not after we'd all been forced to endure the
indignities of being strip searched in front of their peers.

I realized with that thought that I was probably the only girl in the
room with a G-string on. Anyone with a thong had been detained, probably
in the recital hall alongside the foyer. I was certainly the only girl
without a bra who actually needed one. That realization made me feel
particularly trashy as I milled about in the crowd. I liked that
feeling.

Pushing that thought aside, and the consequent rush of exhilaration in
spite of the shame it provoked, I tried to figure out how best to make
my way over to the table while not being seen by the boys. I could stick
to crowds, and that would mask my movement, but there was a pretty big
space between the dance floor and the locker rooms. It would expose me
for about twenty feet. I grew terrified to go out of the crowd, as
unnerving as the press of bodies were. The thought that I'd get grabbed
kept haunting me, so I tried to distract myself by feeling naughty
again, but then I'd just feel ashamed. That made me feel like a slut.
That Ronnie was right. I remembered his finger up inside me. No boy had
ever touched me there before. Not even Wade. No matter how lost I got in
the crowd I could still feel Ronnie's stubby fingers pushing against the
walls of my sex. How much I wanted it.

The fog in my brain made it nearly impossible to plan an escape. I knew
I needed to find where the football players had gone. I needed to follow
their movements so I could plan how to avoid them, but that was such a
daunting task and my mind just didn't want to work, just swim in an
alcoholic stupor while my body floated in a hormonal frenzy. Every bit
of my physiology conspired to keep my mind from working, yet my only
hope was to get it out of first gear.

I wandered the scene again. Even though there was a pretty big crowd it
would take a lot more than that to fill a gym made to accommodate a
thousand for assemblies. The clusters of students were sparse and
scattered,. I had to assume that the guys could see me, even if I
couldn't find them immediately. I wanted nothing more than to find a
corner to skulk off to, but that was the last thing I could look for.
Instead I focused on staying central and public, at least until I
figured out how to escape.

Something awful was blaring over the PA system, NSYNC, or some crap boy
band like that. It made my head want to explode, but I couldn't dent the
effect it had on my hypersensitive body, each pounding drumbeat
reverberating up from the floor into my crotch, sending a throbbing ache
back in return, one that kept me on the tips of my toes (metaphorically
speaking, I couldn't get up on my toes in these boots), trying to bear
the overwhelming sensation while not getting swallowed up in it like I
had when Bones shoved his cigarettes into my G-string.

I wanted to kill that little fuck. I wanted to kill them all.

I looked for somewhere to regroup, ideally a place I could sit down. In
the dark corner behind the DJ booth were a gaggle of popular kids,
seniors, some junior and sophomore girls, clustered around a couple
tables there. Further down the wall was a recessed alcove where the
sporting equipment was kept in lockers, but it was stocked with the geek
set: Computer nerds, debate team jocks, generally pathetic dweebs led by
the genius and pathetic Rusty Meyers, freshman extraordinaire. I
couldn't believe that he'd actually gone out of his way to get a suit
jacket (one that was too large for him) but not take off his headgear.
Unfortunately in the hierarchy of high school these were my peers, which
I guess made Rusty my King. Fortunately I didn't much subscribe to high
school social norms. That hadn't stopped Rusty from making a number of
overtures that would make me his queen. I couldn't decide which was
worse, the lank, zit-faced Rusty, or the squat troglodyte who'd almost
just had his hand in my...

I tried not to think about that.

The back of the gym was clear and was dimly lit. I could spy a few
couples, making out in the absence of adult supervision, but that's
where the locked off main entrance was, and that was where the side
doors were. Going back there was the most likely place for me to be
abducted.

Then I saw Alan.

Alan was a sweet sophomore, somewhat gangly like me, but not really
skinny. He walked with a loping gait and had this odd predilection
towards white. His idea of walking to your own drummer was wearing
things that were not only out of fashion, but completely out of context.
He wore stark white jeans with matching white, leather sneakers (who
ever heard of leather sneakers). He had on this white checkered
button-down, but the sleeves ended just below the elbows and didn't
taper or button at all, like a sailors shirt. He wore a skinny, 80's
style blue tie, which matched his eyes though I doubt he noticed that,
and let his hair stick out in whatever wild direction the towel left it
in after his morning shower.

He wasn't cute, not with that honker, and his skinny face. He really had
great eyes, but they seemed odd over his high cheekbones and long pointy
chin. When he got old he'd probably look like one of those scary guys
who introduce horror films on late-night TV, but right now he was just
an average guy who didn't have the looks or gifts to stand out in
school. At fifteen he was a pale shadow of his athletic, handsome older
brother, and it wasn't without a pang of guilt that I remembered what I
had given up in the car. I didn't know if this was Alan's first date, or
if he'd ever kissed a girl, but I knew he liked me a lot. I wouldn't
have believe that I could feel even worse, but tied up in the failure of
my chastity was my failure as a woman and a person in general.

I wondered for a moment if I was looking at Wade, at fifteen, but I knew
with no uncertain conviction that Wade was more likely to have been one
of the junior varsity players trying to rape me than eagerly awaiting my
arrival. Clearly I'd discovered my preference and it wasn't nice guys.

I'd been at the dance for half an hour. I'd spent the first twenty
minutes of it mostly naked, groveling on the floor half-begging a bunch
of jocks to ravish me. That was after spending ten minutes trying to
give my virginity to another jock. I just wasn't worthy of Alan any
more, and that was pathetic.


`Hey Alan.' I said, finally having built up the courage to confront him.
Having not actually had sex, or kissed another guy I felt that my
indiscretion with his brother left me just enough latitude to act like
nothing had happened.

"Ariel, you made it." He stepped up to me, but maintained a polite
distance, just leaning close enough so we could shout at each other over
the speakers which were much closer where we stood by the DJ booth, than
back at the foyer entrance, behind the palm trees where every word was
crystal as the boys planned to rape me.

"Yeah, sorry I took so long."

"Sorry I wasn't there. Wade didn't give you any trouble, did he?"

I found my heart fluttering madly at the mention of his name, "No. He
was really nice."

"Wade? You're kidding, right?"

I didn't know what to say, and just shrugged, a gesture I'd been
avoiding doing as without a bra. My boobs bounced and jiggled when I did
that. Alan most definitely noticed, checking me out for the first time,
"How did you get past the search in that outfit?"

I really didn't want to talk about that, "You don't like it?" I asked
like a sappy little girl.

"No!" he quickly corrected me, "I think you look great! Wanna dance?"

The thought of letting Alan guide me out on the floor, put his arms
around my waist and turn me around in circles made me very apprehensive.
It wasn't just the ancient Phil Collins blather that the DJ had just put
on to slow things down for a romantic dance, but my seemingly perpetual
state of arousal was making me apprehensive about any human contact. The
thought of what might happen moving so slowly and so closely was almost
as bad as popping around like a bimbo to a fast song in my half top.
There wouldn't be an unbruised face on the dance floor.

But that was why we were there, I reasoned. If I just shrugged that off
and refused to dance all night he might wonder if something was up, and
he already seemed to doubt my lie about his brother's behavior.

I nodded, and cringed as he took my hand, guiding me out to the middle
of the dancing couples. I had never danced like this in my life. In the
clubs Daria snuck me in to people danced alone, strictly by themselves.
You were part of a collective mass, but your steps, your moves, your
motives were strictly your own. That part appealed to me more than
anything.

I had to put my arms around Alan's shoulders. I felt the warm breeze
touch my breasts exposed from the sides again. Alan couldn't see them,
but he took my stiffness for restraint, and kept a respectful distance
though his arms were around my waist. There were a good six inches
between our bodies. Quickly I closed the gap, pushing my chest against
him; a mistake maybe. I felt a warm flush around my bosom, but I felt
masked from any onlookers. I held my hands on his shoulders too, curling
my elbows tight to my body, and rested my head on his chest. He was a
lot taller than I I'd ever noticed.

I felt the boy tighten up as I squeezed him, but he didn't object. Why
would he? His hands cradled me further, his soft, supple fingertips
slyly caressing my completely bare skin. I didn't know if it was
deliberate, but I didn't mind. I held him like that for a long time,
feeling warm, and safe in his arms for perhaps the first time since I'd
crawled out of Wade's car. I knew I didn't have anything to worry about
from Alan. He certainly wouldn't risk my wrath to go further than I
wanted. Even when I felt his cock pressing against me I didn't mind. I
knew he'd only use it on my terms, regardless of the fact that I was a
bitch in heat. I wanted to rub up against it, just to see what happened.
Just to put Alan on the same footing as me. Then I felt him shift, as if
I hadn't notice. Perhaps ashamed of his arousal. I was ashamed too, but
I couldn't help feeling disappointed. I was like a sign of weakness, and
I needed him to be strong for me. Ronnie wouldn't have tried to hide his
cock from me. Jerry wouldn't have...

The combination of alcoholic buzzing and psycho sexual arousal left me
floating on a cloud, despite the sappiest song every written. I drifted
away, lost in the haze of Alan's arms. A silent, drifting, whispering
effigy of myself, where every contact sent me buzzing with tingled, and
a warm, intimate heat enveloped my body, keeping it elevated, aroused,
but not insisting on more. Not determined to humiliate me to hide its
own shame.

Maybe Alan wasn't so bad, I thought, wondering in a distant place if
that was the alcohol talking. Maybe he could do where his brother left
off. Maybe he could be the guy to satisfy the cravings that I'd been
introduced to tonight. He deserved it, if anybody did. Maybe he hadn't
gotten me hot and bothered. Wade had. He certainly hadn't driven me into
the frenzy of mad lust and raging heat I was in. Jerry and Ronnie had.
But he was the reason I was here. He was the reason I was actually in
another man's arms, drifting peacefully, comfortably, heavenly. He was
the one who wanted me for what I was. If he didn't deserve my virginity,
no one did.

That thought sent waves of excitement through my body. Who cared if
there wasn't a real emotional attachment here? I mean, I'd been
protecting my virginity since puberty based on the same hollow
acknowledgment of feminine behavior that I rebuffed every single day of
my life. Really, what did it matter if some fucking football players
thought I was a slut? Who the Hell cared if I was a slut for that
matter?

The only thing keeping me from giving in was really some preconceived
notion that being a slut was somehow a bad thing, something a girl
should be ashamed of and a guy should be proud of. My chest heaved with
the thought of finding a dark, secret place to give myself to Alan, as
tingles escalated from his fingertips, descending over my ass, inflaming
further my loins which had been aching for some contact. I found myself
pressing closer to Alan, stretching my arms tight around his neck, his
erection throbbing against my hip. I rolled my head to one side, peering
up at the nervous, shaking boy. He had no idea what he was in store for.
His brother may have gotten me kick started, but Alan was going to
receive the fruits of Wade's labors. All the torment from the football
players was going to pay out by getting this spindly geek in my arms
laid, and I was going to be liberated in the process.

I found myself getting hotter and hotter. I ground my hip against Alan's
member and he rewarded me with a moan,

"Ariel," he muttered, his breath hot and sultry on my neck.

I turned my head up to look at him. His eyes were wide, his lip
trembled. He was clearly terrified that he'd somehow fuck this up, but
I'd drag his ass outside and rape the shit out of him before that
happened.

But just to put his mind at ease I told him, "Hey Alan, you wanna go
outside and fuck?"

Man I'd become a fucking whore. Twenty-four hours ago I was as chaste a
little virgin as Jesus' sweet dick-free mom, and here I was throwing
myself at a man, actually desperate to surrender my cherry and to get on
with my life.

"Uhh... Uhh, I..." The little schmuck had no idea what to say.

"Alan?"

He closed his mouth and sort of raised his eyebrows, waiting for what I
was going to say next.

"Just say `Yes.'"

He nodded, a little too eagerly, but I knew he was an easy score anyway,
pretty much like any geek in school would be. I slid a hand up behind
the cradle of his ear, tilted my head back and pulled him down for a
kiss.

And he was gone.

Suddenly, yanked from my grasp, I heard, "We need to talk to your little
girlfriend, Alan."

I found myself embraced by Ronnie, right in the middle of the dance
floor, Jerry and Bones were `escorting' Alan away while he protested,
but was too afraid to fight. I heard Jerry saying to him, "We just need
to settle up a bet your little hooker made." And they were gone. I was
left alone with Ronnie while the music changed to another, sappy solo
chick song, singing some shit about loving you the rest of her life.
Talk about being a hooker.

My instinct was to push the troll away, but his hands were gripping me
fiercely around the waist. My actual reaction was to squeal, shaking my
head violently as he pulled me close, jamming my body against his,

"Don't you want to dance, Ariel?"

The frantic arousal that had almost gotten me my first kiss, not to
mention my first lay refused to desert me. I found the heat and pressure
of the chubby little ogre to be every bit as tantalizing as the prospect
of giving myself to Alan had been.

"Oh god, Ronnie, not now!" I pleaded, letting my hands fall on his
shoulders, too weak to fight him but too wound up to rationally think
about any other response. I found my body little concerned about the
substitution of male organs on my hip. I was fighting the urge to keep
grinding away, as if nothing had changed.

"Nice little peepshow you were giving there." He murmured in my ear. "I
like it when a girl flashes her titties." And he leaned just a bit
closer and locked his lips on my neck, sucking and licking as I gasped
in response, my hands tightening up on his shoulders before I threw my
arms around him pulling his face tighter. Even as I did that I realized
that in my abandon with Alan my shirt had hiked up. If you hadn't seen
my tits before through the armholes, you got to see them hanging out
underneath the fabric; the peepshow he had mentioned. I tried not to
look around to see who had seen.

I tried not to think about that, nor the way people must be looking at
me. I tried to freeze in Ronnie's grasp as he mauled my neck, but I let
him grope me, and thrust his cock against my pubic bone. I had to let
the heat swell up around my neck, spreading over my face and shoulders,
the passionate, painful sucking and gnawing was moving down to my
collarbone as my loins erupted with wild enlightenment into the world of
a wanton sex addict. The reality of the situation refused to stop
dogging me, however. I was on the dance floor. I couldn't surrender.
Ronnie was a pig. I couldn't let him make me a whore.

It was Ronnie who pulled me, inadvertently back to reality. He twisted
my head to face him, and spreading his lips he jammed out his tongue and
tried to spear my lips with it. The sheer horror of accommodating that
nasty vessel of slime made me squeal in shock, and I hunkered down in
his arms, refusing to budge a muscle lest I get too carried away, "Let
go of me!" I cried into his shoulder.

"You still have to settle the bet."

I raised my head and shouted at him, "I didn't take any bet you
disgusting little troglodyte!"

He looked confused by the reference to a medieval frog-man, as he should
be, but it was pretty clear that he got the insult. He scowled, "You
agreed, we all heard you."

I tried to push him away, but his had on hand on my ass trying to dig
through the fabric and pressing against my asshole, and he was grabbing
my tit with the other. I could feel my clothes coming off and was more
terrified of that than of letting Ronnie have his way. It was either too
dim for the surrounding dancers to notice, or they just didn't care, but
I clearly didn't have any help coming,

I stopped struggling even as Ronnie jammed me tight against his dick and
slid his hand under my shirt. "I never agreed, you bullied me." I tried
to relax and concentrate on crushing the blistering ache of my erupting
sexuality from persuading my body to succumb to Ronnie. He held his face
close to mine, and caressed and cupped my bare breast under my shirt. I
let him hump me. I tried to think about banana slugs. It wasn't hard,
but it didn't help.

"I had you all figured out. I said you'd be wearing a thong-"

"It's a G-string!" Why I bothered to correct him I don't know.

He grinned at me, and I busied myself trying to fix my shirt to cover my
boobs better. I tried to stop his hand, but he just pinched me and held
on while I bit my tongue and tried not to gasp in pain. Ronnie said,
"And you were wearing it, right there in front of everyone. Wore a
G-string," he emphasized the word for my benefit, pushing his face too
close to my ear and causing me to shudder as the willies stumbled down
my spine, "You were just as hot and bothered as I said you were."

"I wasn't hot and bothered!" I lied.

"Bullshit." He said calmly, grabbing my chin and making me face him,
"You'd have fucked any one of us right there behind the palm trees when
Bones stuck that pack in your cunt."

"He didn't stick it in my cunt!" I shouted, hammering on his hand in a
futile effort to make him release my chin.

"Just admit it. I ain't gonna tell anybody, just admit it."

"I'm not going to admit anything, and I didn't take your bet."

"You did, you even said so in the doorway."

"You were blackmailing me."

"You were begging for it."

"I was half naked, and you were going to lock me out in the hall!"

His organs were slammed against mine. His turgidity and my steamy heat
colliding in an inferno of teen angst.

"You didn't have to come with us."

"My parents would kill me if they knew I was here-" I shut up. I
shouldn't have told him that, but it was too late.

He took a different route than I'd expected however, "Well, we'll make
sure they never find out. We'll even take you home afterwards."

"I'm not letting you drag me out that door."

He smiled, "We won't have to, because I know you want to go."

"I don't want to go."

"Yes you do."

"Why? Why would I want to let seven guys rape me?"

"Cause it won't be rape, you'll be begging for it, just like I said."

"I'd never-" but he cut me off,

"You said you weren't wearing these," and he pinched the string through
my wrap, tugging it upwards, forcing me to gasp, clamping my teeth,
trying not to show him how good the pain felt. He saw it anyways, and
pressed his point, "And you said you weren't hot for it, but Jerry and I
got you hard up just talking about it."

"It wasn't you and Jerry, it was-" and I shut up again, he was running
his hand delicately down my neck, his other hand fondling my ass, a lone
finger occupied with keeping tension on the string.

"Who? Was it Bill?"

I shook my head, still fighting the impulses threatening to make a total
liar out of me and let him walk me out the side door of my own free
will, but I was conspiring against myself. In my efforts to pull down my
shirt and cover my chest I'd started stroking myself. I let my forehead
lean against Ronnie's, and I tried hard not to pant like a dog.

"It wasn't that dork Alan, no way!" he said, his eyes latched to mine. I
pressed myself against the slug, my body overwhelmed by the erotic
impulses that seemed destined to destroy my chastity that night. I
realized with meager satisfaction that for all the incredible,
overwhelming lust that tantalized me against my will, Ronnie was just as
bad off as I was. The boy was visibly drooling (was I? I wondered). His
erection was desperately straining to burst free, and his breathing was
shallow. His voice was starting to crack as he drilled me. It was a
meager consolation. He was the one capable of forcing the issue, where I
couldn't even pretend to feel otherwise. At least I knew it was me who
got him hot.

"No one," I panted, "You're wrong." And with a grin I twisted my hip,
pressing hard against his cock. The sixteen-year old boy shuddered and
moaned. I saw my desperate state reflected in his passions.

"You fucking tease! Who was it?" he belched out, gasping, his lips
blubbering against mine.

Fine, I thought, whatever, "It was Wade, Alan's brother." I was much
more interested in getting on with whatever Ronnie had in mind.

"Wade Prescott? The quarterback?"

I nodded.

"You fucked Wade Prescott?"

I shook my head, feeling evasion and lies just weren't worth it any
more, "We were..." I had to inhale. Panting so much. "Security guard
stopped us..." I trailed off, rolling my forehead against his as the
growing pressure from Ronnie kneading my ass and rubbing my pubic bone
threatened to drop me to the floor right there.

"I knew you..." Ronnie had to moan, as I fought back in kind grinding
against his cock with more vigor. "...knew you weren't a virgin." He
murmered.

"Unh-uh," I shook my head, "I am. We just..." another deep gasp as
Ronnie's hand grabbed my breast again. The one I wasn't touching. "We
just messed around."

"But you were gonna?" Ronnie left his hand there, apparently enjoying
what I was doing to him as much as I hated what he was doing.

"'course I was." I said sardonically, Kind of enjoying the power I had
over him, "He was a quarterback." I let him squeeze my breast this time.
No one seemed to be watching. The lights were dim, everyone was into
their own partners. The crowd was pretty dense.

"He'd have been your first." Ronnie asked, slipping his hand under my
shirt again to fondle my bare breast.

I nodded, eyeballing him while he kept his lips hovering close to mine.
I tasted his saliva on my mouth.

"Now I'm gonna be your first." He was grinning, his eyes glazed.

I turned my head, "I didn't take no bet."

"You did."

I just shook my head, and he looked long and hard at me. "Look." He
said, his words slurring, "You only lost the first part of the bet."

"I didn't take no bet."

"Let's just say you did."

"Nuh-uh."

"Come on,"

"Whatever." We were both a spinning, drooling mess of alcohol stupor and
sexual arousal too long denied. But the groping dies down. Ronnie's
hands were almost proper. I put my hands on his pudgy shoulders and let
him hold me.

"You still have to pass the second part." He said over my shoulder.

"Third base?" I said, trying to remember the terms he had outlined. It
seemed so long ago.

He seemed confused, then stuttered, "Y-yeah!"

"No way!" I lolled my head in sort of a shaking denial, but I was
grinning.

"You lost part one, now you have to do part two."

"Oh, yeah, and then what?"

He was grinning wider, "Then you have to fuck me."

"Without foreplay?" I remembered that part.

"Right."

"Dream on, jocko." I glowered at him.

"Only if you fail part two."

"Oh, I'll fail it."

"Not necessarily." He was acting like he hadn't shoved his fingers
inside me.

"Definitely." I iterated.

"No one forced you to take the bet."

"No one forced you to blackmail me at the door."

"It was your choice."

"And if I lose I'll be your sex slave all year long." I was slowly
coming to my senses. Ronnie didn't seem so alluring all of a sudden.

"Only if you don't pass."

I pushed him back, still dancing with him, but there was space between
us suddenly and the cold air was a blast of renewed consciousness and
relief.

"I'm not letting you go down there."

"You could still pass the test."

"You know I'd fail."

"Maybe"

"You know!" I said, but I was afraid to remind him that he'd touched me
there once. What if I'd been mistaken? The alcohol and the repugnant
desire to fuck this pug-dog was overwhelming my ability to think
clearly, "What do I have to do again?"

"If you're wet you have to fuck us."

"Us?"

"You made the bet with me and Jerry."

"That asshole ain't touching me." But for some reason I was letting this
asshole keep pawing his hands all over me.

"If you're wet enough to do us, that means..."

"What? That I'm a slut?"

"Yeah. Like Jerry said."

"So what if I'm a slut?"

"Well, you have to do all seven of us."

"That'd fucking kill me."

"No way. We wouldn't hurt a hair on your head."

"It's not my head I'm worried about. Have you ever had seven dicks
inside you?"

"Have you?"

"No! And I'm not about to."

"Well, if you're dry like you said you won't have to."

"How am I supposed to know if I'm wet enough to fuck?"

"That's what the test is for."

"Oh yeah, to find out, just sort of an in-out kind of thing, right?"

"Yeah." Ronnie actually looked like he believed it, but considering how
turned on he was it probably would have been in and out like a light.

"I don't remember that being part of the bet."

"It was, all the guys heard me."

"And if I lose, because Wade got me horny, I have to fuck you and
Jerry."

"Yeah, but unless you beg for more we lose the bet and have to look out
for you the rest of the year!"

His earnestness was unsettling. I had little doubt that I'd win the last
part of the bet, but that was probably because I'd be half-dead and
unconscious by the time Ronnie and Jerry were done winning the next
part. If that didn't do it I'd probably die in a back-alley abortion
clinic somewhere since my parents would never consent to me having an
abortion. I'd kill myself before squeezing out a little jock puppy.

"You're a fucking lunatic, Ronnie."

"Don't pretend you don't want it, Ariel."

"I do want it, but not with you." I tried to pull away. "Let go of me."

"You actually want to fuck that jerk Alan?"

"Yeah, I actually do, what business is it of yours?" He still wouldn't
let me go, but I was struggling harder now.

"He won't touch your ass after what Jerry told him."

"Like he'd believe Jerry."

"He doesn't have to believe, your boyfriend won't do it!"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"So you were just gonna fuck some random guy, but you won't fuck me?"

I stopped fighting him for a minute, and he relaxed his painful grip on
my arms. "Yeah, Ronnie. That's it."

"You lost the bet." He said, menacing and scary again. "You took the
bet, and you lost it, now you have to own up."

"It's time to let me go now, Ronnie." I said finally feeling like I
meant it.

I guess I sounded like it. He finally let me go.

"You lied about your underwear." He said. I turned to walk away, "You
lied about being wet!" I tired to ignore him, but he followed after me,
"I felt you, Ariel." The pit of my stomach was burning. I was going to
throw up. "You're lying about me too, bitch!" I started running,
"Ariel!!!"

I was running through the dancers. The music changed and people started
bouncing (really, that's how they dance these days, they just bounce up
and down in little groups). I was lost in the throng of kids rushing on
to the dance floor, my sanity barely in tact. I had actually entertained
the terms of Ronnie's bet, as if my consent had been anything but total
duress. I knew it was because I really wanted to try sex. I liked being
horny and I liked how it felt. I was horribly ashamed to know that I
liked it like a guy, in that groping, stumbling indiscriminate way that
meant I was no different than a jock or a cheerleader, or Mrs. Fucking
Dee and her dyky prudishness.

I walked off the dance floor, pinching myself, frantically trying to
find some way to clear my mind and get my cunt to stop sending these
"FUCK ME!" messages to my brain. I was shaking with the knowledge that
had Ronnie been a little more subtle I would have let his pathetic,
adolescent attempts at seduction overwhelm the last semblance of
rational thought I possessed. Fortunately for me, he had brought up
Jerry, and of course the ultimate gangbang that would take place on my
ass once it became painfully obvious that I was positively gushing with
fucking juice.

How dim and stupid could I have been to let him draw me in like that. I
was a grown woman. I was above all that shit.

I glimpsed Alan. He seemed to be looking for me and I suddenly put the
blame squarely where it belonged. It was that little creep's fault. He's
the one who sent his gorgeous fucking brother over to my house to seduce
me and dump me off in this godforsaken hellhole of a social life. He's
the one who dragged me onto the dance floor and got me all wound up then
abandoned me to the troll king. The little pussy couldn't even fight
them off, and I'd actually asked him to fuck me. I was going to give
that simpering little weasel my virginity who couldn't get me wet
without help with a fire hose. I was ready to bet that he'd sent Wade
over to get me worked up, staged the whole thing with the security guard
and everything just to get me ready and willing to put out for him, but
Ronnie and his slugs screwed up his plans, and now I was at the mercy of
a bunch of horny thugs.

My path had taken me right back to the tables, where a lot more kids
were gathered, drinking their punch, chatting, making a good time of
their pathetic, uninteresting lives. Right next to the tables were the
bathrooms, and I realized with little satisfaction that my predicament
had left me without the need to strip completely to pee. That wasn't why
I eyed the girl's room with interest, however.

But as I formed a plan in my head a tall, lean guy walked up to me. He
wasn't bad looking, to tell the truth, in spite of his plain blue jeans,
striped sweater, and short conservative haircut. He had a nice jaw, and
his aquiline nose was proud on his face, not like Alan's. He also had a
good smile, and really nice eyes.

"Hi uh, Ariel," he stammered, shy like a lot of guys our age. "I'm Mike,
I'm in your history class."

"Hi, Mike." I said, trying to be polite, though my words came out like
an insult.

He was obviously trying really hard not to look straight down my shirt,
his hand clutching a plastic cup, half empty but for the ice in it.

"Wanna dance?" he asked.

I eyed his cup, then reached out and put my hand on it. He let me take
it from him, and I took a sip. It was super sweet, sickly stuff. I felt
my shirt riding up, and I let it. I let Mike see the kind of girl he was
propositioning (though deep inside I hoped he wouldn't see my nipple).

"Tell you what, Mike."

He nodded, waiting patiently for me to finish, looking me in the eye.

I took another sip, "I'm gonna go dump this on my cunt. Then we can
dance, okay."

As expected, he stood there like an idiot, and I turned and walked into
the girl's bathroom.

 End of Chapter 4

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