This is a story. It never happened and never will. The General Disclaimer is incorporated herein by reference.

BR&T date: Monday, 1 April 1996

Jim Carson arrived home from his work at the lumber mill. As he pulled into his driveway, he noticed about a dozen boys gathered on the street in front of his home. They all turned and watched his arrival. As soon as he entered through the door from the attached garage, he heard voices and knocking at his front door. He looked out and saw that most, or perhaps all, of the boys had come to his door. He hoped they weren't there to sell him something. He opened the door. "Yes? What is it?" he asked.

"Can Sara come out to play?" one of the boys asked.

He appraised the crowd of boys. They didn't look like Bunnytail boys, judging by their clothing. The private school generally had a higher 'class' of student, giving a subtle but definite difference between these boys and Bunnytail boys, in both appearance and demeanor. "You all want to play with Sara?" he asked. "You're all friends of hers?"

"Uh huh," one said, while others nodded and agreed all around him. "Sure, we're all good friends of hers," one boy finished. Some couldn't help a chuckle until others shushed them.

"I'm delighted she's made so many new friends after just moving here so recently!" he said. "Pardon my asking, but you're not from her school are you? Where did you all meet her?"

One boy in the back started to say "When she was going to-" but another boy quickly interrupted him, to stop the first one from finishing "-get raped." "We met her going down the street," he called instead. Another spoke up, "I saw her when she was going home." Others nodded. "Right, like that, you know, she was just going through our neighborhood," a boy in a t-shirt and ragged jeans said.

Jim immediately knew what they meant, despite their attempt to hide it. He'd let that naive woman who called herself Mommy Nicole sign up his daughter to go to 'rape therapy' sessions with her daughter, little Nicole. He'd even helped get the two girls ready to walk four blocks down the street to the so-called counselor, three times, knowing full well what was going on, and secretly enjoying the knowledge.

When he'd signed up Sara to go to 'therapy' all alone on thursdays, he knew she would have to walk there thirteen blocks, and he had hoped something would happen, even if he would never find out about it. But still, he hadn't expected anyone to come right to his door and ask for her so brazenly, with such clear intentions. This was better than he could have hoped, but he'd have to play it very carefully. He told the closest boy, "I'll go get her for you. She'll be down for all of you in no time." He turned and ran up the stairs to the bedrooms three steps at a stride.

"Sara!" he called, before entering her bedroom without knocking. "Some of your friends are downstairs wanting to see you. Come on," he said, "don't keep them waiting."

Sara quickly pulled up her panties and pulled down her dress, hoping that her father hadn't noticed the redness of her bare bottom from a spanking at school, that she had been trying to soothe. Two boys in her fourth-grade class had, with no reason or warning, grabbed her and dragged her back to the back of the classroom and locked her in the stocks. Her teacher hadn't said a word about it, until she screamed from them stripping her, then he'd threatened to send her to the principal for disturbing the class. Those boys and others in her class took turns sneaking back to the stocks and trying to get her to scream loud enough to get sent to the principal. Everyone knew what was happening to her and why she was screaming, but no one tried to help her.

She'd only escaped from that torment by having to go with a boy from fifth grade who had come to fetch her to practice his play in drama class, that she and little Nicole had been assigned to 'star' in. Afterward, Sara hadn't considered it to be any kind of an escape at all, as it had resulted in the two girls getting spanked by a crowd of maybe a dozen boys, in front of everyone in the gymnasium, for ten more minutes, while walking back and forth across the stage completely naked.

Sara knew that if her father saw the redness and asked her about it and found out she'd been spanked at school again, he wouldn't give her a chance to explain, he would probably just spank her again for getting spanked. She dashed out the door and down the stairs to the front door, wondering who he meant. More than a month after moving there, she still didn't really have friends, except maybe Kaiah in her class at school, or little Nicole who went to therapy with her and exchanged secret letters with her. Neither of them would be likely to come to her house on a whim, let alone both of them together.

With her father beside her, Sara opened the door and looked out, suddenly aghast to see about a dozen boys. She recognised a couple of them who had followed her home on thursday to find out where she lived. It was bad enough to have to walk thirteen blocks, naked and helpless, to the 'rape therapy' counselor, telling everyone she passed on the way that she was going to be raped, and bad enough to be raped for two hours, and bad enough to then be sent back home, still tied up naked and helpless, barely able to walk, but she had also been forced to say "I got raped" and "raping me is always fun" every time anyone asked her, all the way home, every miserable step for the entire thirteen blocks, always with at least half a dozen boys going along.

"Come on out, Sara!" one called. "We want to play with you!" another added. The others just grinned.

She noticed a few more boys who looked familiar from the walk home. From their clothes alone, she could tell they weren't Bunnytail boys, not that that made any difference to her. If anything, she would take her chances with strangers rather than to go play with Bunnytail boys. But she knew exactly what sort of 'play' the boys had in mind, Bunnytail or not. She turned to her father. "I don't want to play with them," she said, and began closing the door in their faces.

Her father grabbed the door just before it closed. "That's no sort of attitude to have," he scolded, "and no way to treat your friends who came here and asked politely to see you. You will change that attitude and go play with them."

"Daddy! No!!" she protested. "They just wa- aahheiiaey!"

He gripped her arm and turned her, and held her with her head pressed to the wall, her face turned toward the door. "Then I'll change your attitude, then you're going to go play with them," he said. "You will not snub people just because they can't dress as nicely as you can. Get your dress out of the way. Panties down too. A dozen swats or until you say you've changed your mind, whichever is more." He pulled his belt out of the loops.

"Daddy! No, please!" she wailed. "The door is still open!"

"They heard you being rude to them. Now they'll hear what you get when you're rude. I said panties down," he insisted, but he didn't wait for her to comply. He yanked her panties down to her ankles as she submissively raised her dress.

Sara screamed, and screamed, and howled, and sobbed, as she got one hard swat after another on her bare ass cheeks. "I'll go! I'll go!" she wailed, "I'll gohh- AUhhh!!" She could see three grinning boys peeking in through the door, not quite closed. She knew they could see her dress up at her shoulders and see the belt hit her bare bottom, and she knew all the rest of them could hear the sharp snaps of the belt and her screams immediately afterward. "Daddy aaawwwww stop! Stop- AUUuwwwwhh!! I'll gohhh! AAUWWwww! I'll go please!!"

Twelve swats seemed like forever to her, but at last he stopped. "Tell them what you're going to do, now," he demanded. He opened the door wide. All the boys looked in.

Sara pulled her panties back up in place, slowly and gingerly at the top, covering her sore tender bottom, then put her dress down. "I'm- I'm going to go play with them," she cried.

Her father pointed. "Tell them, I said."

Sara turned to face the door. "I'm going to go out to play with you," she repeated. If only her father knew what the boys were going to do to her, Sara knew, he would protect her from them, but how could she convince him, when any word she said would be treated as rudeness and get her punished?

"That's better," Jim said. "Now go play with them. And I don't mean just for five minutes either. Let's see, it's ten after five now. If you come home before seven, or they say you didn't play with them, you'll get another spanking, is that understood?"

"Yes, Daddy," Sara cried softly. She turned to the door and looked at the smugly grinning faces of a dozen boys who intended to rape her. 'Why did they claim to be my friends?' she thought. She didn't know one single name among them, nor did she want to know any. She struggled to step forward, to go out the door among them, to let them take her away wherever they wanted. She could almost feel a different boy shoving into her pussy with each new step she took, could already feel them using her body for their own fun, with no regard for what she wanted. Any more protests to her father would only get her spanked again, even longer, even harder, maybe even right in front of all of them, and nothing she could say would save her anyway. "Daaaddy!" she cried, as her father closed the door behind her and locked it. "Daddy! Daddy!" she sobbed weakly as the boys surrounded her and led her to the street. "Daaahhhddy!!"

Jim peered through the side window as his daughter walked slowly away. The trembling of her head told him all he wanted to know. "Have a nice time, guys!" he considered calling after them, but he resisted the urge. He knew they would. Oh how he wished he could watch.

The boys surrounded her and took her away, across the avenue at the end of the cul-de-sac she lived on, and continued north on Little Street for a couple more blocks. Then they forced her with them, half a block west, to an alleyway that provided access to garages, and for garbage trucks. They forced her with them into the alley, and stopped beside a dumpster behind the home of the oldest boy. They rolled it out and shoved Sara past it, into the space behind it. Most of the boys followed her in.

"You're the first lookout," one of the oldest boys told one of the youngest. "If anyone comes out with garbage, offer to take it for them so they don't get close to the dumpster and hear us." Not being from Bunnytail, they just assumed they had to hide when they raped a girl.

A boy in a blue shirt and ragged jeans called to the others. "Remember, guys, we can't take too long. Her father said we have to get her home before seven if we want him to spank her by the front door again!"

The rest of the boys took it to heart, and hurried along with their turns. Nearly two hours later, they had her back home with four minutes to spare. The second spanking, outside her front door with every boy watching from the street, lasted until four minutes after seven, thus being perfect justice.

Sara went to her room, sobbing, in despair. The boys had threatened that if she even tried to tell her father anything, and they found out, they would make her regret it. She knew boys in that town had lots of ways to make her regret it. She had no reason to doubt them, and knew her father wouldn't believe her anyway. Her 'friends' had also told her that every time they came to the door and asked for her, she had to go out and 'play' with them. If she refused, they knew just what to tell her father, then she'd get spanked again and still have to go with them anyway.

BR&T date: Friday, 5 April 1996

"Sara! Your friends are here again!" her father called upstairs. Just to be sure, he opened the front door. "Come on in," he said to the throng of boys on the steps. "Wait here. I'll go get her." He ran up the stairs three at a time, as before, and entered Sara's bedroom. "Go down and go play with them," he told her, "and I better not hear any rudeness this time."

Sara knew what he would call rudeness: any refusal to go 'play' with them, regardless of any reason she might have, like, if they all just wanted to rape her. Which they did. Trembling, she held her words and slowly descended the stairs toward the boys waiting below. Argument would gain her nothing. Obviously, with the boys in the house, they'd see her trying to tell him. Her father would spank her for 'rudeness' right in front of them, she would have to go out with them anyway, and then they would carry out their threat to make her regret it even worse. She covered her face to keep the boys from seeing her nearly crying already, but she left the house and meekly went with them.

Her father waved cheerfully at the boys taking his daughter away. "Be back in about two hours!" he called. He grinned at Sara's sudden shiver. Oh how he wished he could watch.

The boys took her to the end of the same alley they'd taken her to the time before. Along the way, Sara couldn't hold back any longer, crying openly, half hoping (but not expecting) someone would see her crying and stop to find out why, and rescue her. No one did, though several drivers slowed to stare, as she walked three blocks with the crowd of boys. She saw many boys who had raped her in the alley four days before. She saw some others who had come out to watch her walking to or from 'rape therapy' the day before, as helpless and as naked as the previous week. She also noticed some other boys among the rest, that she'd never seen before.

"Stop here," one of the tallest boys, about fifteen years old, demanded when they reached the end of the alley, still in sight of the main street. "And strip here," he added, obviously just to Sara, while pulling his belt free of his pants. He held it threateningly. "Some of these guys didn't get to see you yesterday. So show them."

Sara stood there on the sidewalk, surrounded by a dozen boys who were all going to rape her like they all did before. If she refused his demand, they could either get her in trouble with her father with one little lie, or they could 'make her regret it' in some other way, or probably both if they felt like it. Crying, she slowly pulled off her dress, then removed her shoes and her socks, then her panties. She stood cowering, completely naked but trying to keep herself covered anyway.

The leader spoke to the other boys, but obviously meant for Sara as well. "That crap she had on her yesterday and last week sure was fancy, wasn't it? Collars and rods and locks, real load of crap." Other boys nodded and agreed, unsure what he was getting at. "Well, maybe we don't have any of that fancy crap, but we don't need it, neither. Do we?" He stood in front of Sara and demanded firmly, "Get your arms out straight as if you had that fancy crap on you!"

Cringing and ashamed, Sara hugged her chest with one arm and kept her other hand over her pussy. The boy swung the belt a little, as if he was itching to use it, and would if she gave him any excuse. Sara raised her arms and held them out wide as boys all around her looked at her nakedness. She lowered her head, at least trying to cover her face with her hair.

"Legs out wide too, as if you had all that fancy crap on!" he angrily insisted. "Show them how you were!"

Sara hesitated to spread her legs in front of all the boys on the street, so she stood still. The boy swung, smacking her across her hip and curling the belt around to strike her bare ass. "YYaaahhwww!" she screamed. He raised it for another swat. Sara quickly moved her feet apart. He kept swinging it back and forth, until she moved her feet again. She stood holding her arms out as straight as the rod across her shoulders had kept them, with her legs as wide as the rod locked to her ankles had kept them the day before. She felt even more humiliated. She didn't even have the excuse of helplessness; she had spread her arms and legs for them herself.

"Now tell us where you're going," the boy demanded.

"I'm going to get raped," Sara sobbed.

"Then get going!" he ordered, waving the belt toward the alley.

Sara bent down to pick up her clothes to take them with her, but a brutal swat with the belt stopped her. She stood up again, wailing.

"Leave them there and get going. Maybe your clothes will be there when you get back. Keep telling us where you're going, just like you did the other times."

Sara started walking into the alley. "I'm going to get raped," she remembered to say. But she forgot how she had to walk. She got another painful swat.

"Walk just like you had all that fancy crap on you!" he demanded.

Sara spread her legs wide again and held her arms out, and pretended the rods were holding her that way. She swing-walked her legs the way she had needed to do when she was tied up helpless. "I'm going to get raped, I'm going to get raped, I'm going to get raped," she sobbed, swinging her bare feet forward one by one, keeping her legs wide, trying to remember to keep her arms straight. "I'm going to get raaaaped," she bawled.

"Told ya we didn't need it!" the boy boasted.