From the outset, it was clear that Clive had been telling his schoolfriends about me in advance, and equally clear that none of them had believed him. The jaw-dropping looks from everyone as we entered the assembly room in which the dance was to take place would have been comical in any other situation. All around me I could see people nudging each other and pointing at us. I certainly stood out, a good ten years older than all the people around me, and dressed like a high class hooker. What I really needed was a drink to settle my nerves, but of course this was a school dance, so there was no prospect of that. Well, not officially, anyway.

Clive joined a group of his friends, dragging me along behind him. As he approached them he yanked on my hand and pulled me close to him, draping his arm around me and drawing me into a forced embrace, kissing me full and lingeringly on the mouth; his tongue darted into me and with distaste I felt it probing and pressing inside my mouth, mashing against my tongue and running up and down my teeth. His display over, he turned triumphantly to his friends.

"Hi, everyone. This is Harriet. I told you about her. Now do you believe she exists?"

His friends were dumbstruck, still not, I feel, entirely believing that I wasn't some elaborate hologram.

"Fantastic body, don't you think?" He raised my arm and pushed me away slightly, as though putting me on show to the gathering, and then pulled me back towards him again and I felt his hand gripping my arse. Clive was hamfistedly showing me off as his personal property, treating me as a mere object and leaving everyone in no doubt that I was his. I could see the perplexed looks on everyone's faces as they contemplated how this gawky, spotty adolescent could have achieved it. I smiled awkwardly.

Music was playing in the background, some execrable racket which was almost devoid of melody or interest, belted out by a woman with all the subtlety of a sergeant-major on the parade ground. It was still early and no-one was dancing. This left the stage empty, of course, for Clive, and he dragged me unhappily into the centre of the hall.

"Time for a dance, Harriet. Make it sexy. Shake those hips, show some flesh."

As we made our entrance, someone turned the strobe lighting on, and I knew instantly that my blouse, fairly transparent at the best of times, would now be completely invisible. I could almost hear the collective intake of breath from everyone in the hall as I gyrated beneath the lights, knowing that my breasts were clearly visible. We continued to dance and absolutely no-one joined us, transfixed as they were on my chest. It was the longest three minutes of my life, as I waited for the music to end, waited for the opportunity to escape to the sanctuary of the chairs surrounding the dance floor. No chance. Immediately after the song finished it was replaced by something virtually indistinguishable, and Clive pulled me close to him, grinding his hips against mine and leering triumphantly at me.

"Having a good time?" he asked.

"Wonderful," I replied curtly.

Gradually, to my great relief, the dance floor began to fill up, and I felt less exposed, less like an exhibit in a freak show. Now that the shame of the public exposure had subsided, though, I realised I had to contend with a new danger: Clive and his wandering hands. While we were alone on the dance floor he had not dared get too close to me, not while his teachers were watching, but now that the dance floor was crowded he was free to maul and grope me at will. Which he did. Taking advantage of a slow ballad, he pulled me into an embrace and his hands reached for my bum. I felt him grab a cheek in each hand and he began to massage them through my skirt like a baker kneading bread. I could feel my skirt rising, and I knew that by now the tops of my stockings would be showing, along with inches of my bare flesh. Clive's hand crept downwards, and I felt it, hot and clammy, against my bare buttock.

"Smile," he ordered, "you're enjoying yourself."

Playing my part, I tossed back my head and laughed, as though he had made some witty remark. All the while, his hands were mauling my bared buttocks in front of everyone. His finger slipped underneath the fabric of my thong and I felt it slide into my crack. With his other hand he pressed against my back, forcing me closer to him, and he fixed me in a long kiss. I could feel his cock, stiff and hard, pressing against my stomach. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I was all but being fucked at a school disco, in full view of everyone around us. His finger was continuing to probe my arse, sliding further into my crack, and pulling my cheeks apart, and I felt him press against my hole. I gasped.

He broke off his kiss and looked at me slyly as he pushed hard, forcing his digit painfully up my arse, and I danced on uncomfortably, impaled on his finger. I was hot and flushed now, and in a daze. The music spun on, and I danced round and round, aware that I was being ruthlessly displayed. Clive bent towards me again and whispered in my ear.

"You've got me all hot and excited, Harriet. Let's go. It's time for my blow job."