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Subject: {ASSM} NEW: "Stick Lady" [M,TeenF, f,ped,nc]
Date: Mon, 16 Apr 2001 00:10:02 -0400
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The following story is a work of fiction.  Its contents are of a
graphically sexual nature and may involve non-consensual sexual acts
between underage partners. Any resemblance to persons either alive or
dead is purely coincidental. This story is intended for ADULTS only.
If you are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction,
or if you are easily offended, kindly STOP READING NOW.

"Stick Lady" - by - The StoryMaster

Trisha Nelson was actually a rather pretty child if one were to take
the time to look closely.

Trisha had sparkling blue eyes, high cheekbones, a pretty nose and
sultry mouth.  She kept her auburn red hair cut boyishly short and
above her ears with straight bangs.

In fact, it was her somewhat boyish appearance that was might have
been responsible for Trisha's becoming experienced well beyond her
years at the tender age of twelve.  

Trisha had always worn her hair shorter than most of her friends, but
that wasn't her biggest problem.  The one aspect of her life that was
the most difficult for Trisha was that while the majority of her girl
friends began to develop those enticing curves of womanhood, Trisha's
body refused to budge.  Her reasonably happy childhood swiftly evolved
into a hellish adolescence as she watched other girls her age mature
into attractive young women.  Their hips started to spread and their
budding breasts started to press against the insides of their blouses.
Trisha's anatomy, on the other hand, seemed to have stalled somewhere
around age nine.  To her dismay, Trisha's hips remained narrower than
her shoulders, and while the mothers of most of her friends were
buying their daughters training bras, poor Trisha's chest stayed as
flat as the surface of a billiard table.  As she grew taller, her
physique became even more lanky and angular rather than sleek and
flowing like the other girls.

To make matters worse, there was a group of self-absorbed young ladies
in Trisha's school who seemed to delight in tormenting the unhappy
girl.  In fact, the three girls made Trisha's sixth and seventh grade
years a living hell.  They teased her unmercifully, calling her names
like "Tomboy" and "Stick Lady".  They taunted her often, saying that
she would never have a boyfriend, because `boys weren't attracted to
boys'.  

What's sad is that to a degree, they were correct.  As young ladies
near their teenage years, they become competitive and even ruthless as
they instinctively seek to position themselves for pairing.  With so
many curvaceous bodies to choose from, it was doubtful that many boys
would be interested in a tall, skinny little girl who looked like a
little boy. 

By the time Trisha reached middle school, her more physically
desirable acquaintances had managed to erode away her sense of
self-worth almost entirely.  Trisha's lack of self-esteem was
conspicuously personified by her extreme shyness, and as a result,
although she had a pleasant personality, Trisha had few friends.  At
school she kept mostly to herself in an effort to avoid the fiendish
group of girls who constantly teased and belittled her.  She was never
seen associating with other students her age on a social basis.
Trisha did not involve herself in school sports or other
extracurricular activities, and she did not date.  In short, Trisha
Nelson was a loner.

Although her recluse behavior tended to alienate Trisha from her peers
at school, it made the young girl an attractive target for the more
nefarious groups of young people in town.  "Gang Bangers", they were
called, and their ranks consisted of young men and women of all ages.
Within these gangs lurked individuals who were constantly on the
lookout for young ladies just like Trisha; fresh, innocent, unworldly
and starved for affection.

One such individual was named Jonathon Beasley.  Jonathon was
twenty-four years old, easily making him the oldest member of the gang
by several years.  Jonathan enjoyed a position of power and authority
in the reasonably large group of misguided young people who's ranks
totaled nearly fifty.  Jonathon Beasley was what one might call
ruggedly handsome.  He had curly blond hair, a strong jaw and cool
grey eyes.  Jonathon stood six feet tall and had a muscular build with
broad shoulders and narrow hips.  He was very charismatic and had a
commanding presence.  

The majority of the members of the "Zippers", as the gang called
themselves, were male, but over the past ten months or so, a
considerable number of young ladies had joined up as well.  Most had
been personally recruited by Jonathon Beasley, the girls easily
falling prey to his personal magnetism and alluring good looks.  To a
one, the girls were young and impressionable, most being in their
early to middle teenage years.  Since they were at that age where
their raging hormones and innate curiosity frequently overpowered
their better judgement, Jonathon had little trouble coaxing the young
ladies into his bed, and often more than one at a time.  In fact, at
the time of this writing, Jonathon Beasley had amassed what amounted
to a harem of sixteen girls, the oldest of whom had only recently
turned eighteen and the youngest, just fourteen.

Although Jonathon enjoyed a sex life that would rival the most
provocative fantasies of most men, he was possessed of a virtually
insatiable appetite and was always on the prowl for "fresh material".
Jonathon had recently discovered that he had a taste for innocence,
and as a result, he'd taken to patrolling the middle schools as well
as the high schools.

One afternoon, as Beasley sat parked in his dark blue Miata across the
street from the Anderson Middle School, he observed a gaggle of
vivacious young ladies exit the main building and descend the front
steps.  They were involved in what appeared to be the animated
heckling of a slim, gangly student whom they had surrounded.  At
first, Jonathon couldn't tell if the target of their ridicule was male
or female.  The thin youngster had short reddish hair with straight
bangs and moved with decided ungainliness and lack of grace.  Then as
the group stepped onto the broad sidewalk in front of the school,
Jonathon recognized some distinctly feminine traits about the gangling
youngster.  The way she clutched her books to her chest, for example,
was a dead giveaway.  

Then as if to confirm that which Jonathon had already deduced, one
pretty young blond girl in the pack cried out several times
tauntingly, "Stick lady...stick lady...stick lady!"

Even from across the street, Jonathon could see the color rise in the
face of the slim red haired girl, and as Trisha struggled to break
through the ranks of her fellow students, she had no idea that her
days as an unwanted outcast were about to end.

For a few weeks, Jonathon Beasley frequented the neighborhood of the
Anderson Middle School in order to determine the pattern of the
comings and goings of what he hoped would be the newest addition to
his group of young companions.  He was very cautious not to draw
attention to himself and possibly arouse suspicion as he observed the
young girl.

As a result of his patient surveillance Jonathon determined that the
girl kept almost entirely to herself when she wasn't being tormented
by her classmates. Jonathon figured that because of the abuse she
suffered at the hands of the other girls, the youngster would probably
be very defensive and guarded.  So when he felt that the time was
right to approach her, Jonathon decided to enlist the help of Karen,
the oldest of his female gang members.

Karen was bi-sexual, and had helped him in the past to lure more than
one unsuspecting young lady into his fold.  Karen was almost seventeen
and had white blond hair.  Even dressed in the black leather,
multi-zippered "colors" of their organization, Karen Minski was a
pretty girl.  Although she had a subtle hardness about her, she
covered it well, and could come across as quite charming when she
needed to.  

"I think she's cute," Karen commented from the passenger seat of the
Miata.  Jonathon timed his arrival at the intersection perfectly, and
the two sat innocently in the dark blue sports car while the pretty
auburn haired girl crossed the street in front of them.  Several days
earlier, he'd followed her, keeping a discrete distance, of course, as
she walked home alone after school.  In this way, he'd discovered
where she lived.  The young girl took the same route to and from her
home everyday, so it was almost too easy for Jonathon to plan a first
meeting.  

"Not, bad, I guess," Jonathon responded as he studied his target.  "A
little on the skinny side, maybe."  He didn't bother to remark about
the girl's obviously tender age, or just how much that prospect
excited him.  "You ready?" he asked his accomplice.

"Do you think she noticed us?" the blond teenager asked.

"I doubt it.  She always looks like she's in her own world," he added.
The two sat for a couple of minutes before Jonathon eased the sports
car through the intersection.  Glancing to his left, he watched the
young girl cross a couple of blocks up and disappear down a side
street.  Jonathon drove one block, hung a left then accelerated up the
side street.  He needed to time this perfectly if his plan was going
to work.  When they were still about a half a block from the
intersection, Jonathon watched the object of his desires step off the
curb in front of them.  The Miata covered the distance in no time at
all.  Then with a loud screeching of tires, Jonathon braked hard,
bringing the nimble sports car to an abrupt halt just a few feet from
the startled girl.  Her eyes were the size of saucers when she looked
quickly in the direction of the skidding car.  Her books flew
helter-skelther, as she tripped over her own two feet and fell
unceremoniously to the pavement.  Jonathon's car never touched her.

In keeping with their plan, Karen leaped from the car while Jonathon
remained behind the wheel.  "Are you alright?" the blond girl cried
excitedly as she stooped beside the fallen child.  

"I... I think so," the slim girl stammered after a moment.  She looked
up at Karen, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand.  

Karen instantly fell in love when she got a look at the girl's face up
close.  "She sure is pretty, but kinda young," was Karen's first
impression of the girl.  "But not too young," she quickly concluded.
Karen had after all taken her first lover the day after her thirteenth
birthday.  "Here, let me help you," Karen said offering her hand to
the fallen girl.  

"I... guess I tripped," the auburn haired youngster said sheepishly as
Karen helped her up.  She was all a tangle of long legs and arms.

"Hey, I'm really sorry," Karen responded apologetically as she stooped
to pick up the younger girl's school books.  "My name's Karen.  What's
yours?"

"Trisha," the girl replied shyly.  

"Jonathon really pisses me off some times, driving like fool!"  She
glared with mock animosity at the guy in the sports car.  "Here you
go, Trisha," Karen said handing the girl her books.  "You sure you're
OK?"  Then she smiled when she saw the youngster gazing almost in awe
at Jonathon.  He had that effect of young women.  "Helloooo," Karen
said with a chuckle after a couple of seconds.

"Huh..  Wwhhaa?" the auburn haired beauty stammered.  Then she blushed
a deep crimson.  She had incredible blue eyes.

"I said... are you OK?" Karen asked.  She gave the younger girl a look
heavy with hidden meaning that only two females could interpret, and
the younger girl blushed all the hotter because of it.

"I...I...Uh huh," she nodded, then looked quickly away.

Karen let her squirm for a minute before at last she said, "OK then,
Trisha.  If you're sure you're alright, we gotta go."  The younger
girl nodded again, but continued to avert her eyes.  Unexpectedly
Karen raised her hand to the back of the youngster's slim neck, then
gently slipped her fingers up under her soft hair.  The little girl
was startled, but didn't resist as Karen rubbed her neck for a moment
or two before turning to the car.  "Let's go, Jonathon," the blond
said as she jumped into the Miata.  "Bye Trisha," she called to the
young girl as she walked away without looking back.  

Two days later, when Trisha Nelson started home after school, she had
no idea that her life was about to change so drastically.  As she
descended the front steps of the school, Trisha was immediately
accosted by her two worst antagonists, Sherry Eldridge and Morgan
Perkins.  

"Where're you going, Tomboy?" Sherry asked, her voice dripping with
contempt.  Sherry Eldridge was a cute blond girl, and very popular.  

"Yeah, where're you going?" the other girl called, mimicking her
friend.  The second girl, Morgan was also a very pretty young lady,
and the object of the dreams of most of the male population of the
school.  Rumor had it that Morgan Perkins was dating a high school
boy, and that the two of them had even "fooled around" on occasion.
Then she reached out and pushed Trisha roughly.  "Stick lady...stick
lady...stick lady," she called.  "Where's your boyfriend, stick lady?"

As usual, Trisha stumbled.   She fell against Sherry Eldridge.  "Hey,
watch it, Stick lady!" the other girl said crossly.  Then she shoved
Trisha back toward Morgan.  The two vindictive blonds were in the
process of jostling poor Trisha back and forth between them like a
volley ball, causing her to drop her books in an effort to regain her
balance, when who should come walking by unexpectedly, but Karen
Minski.

"Hey, knock it off, ladies!" Karen said as she approached.  The two
attractive blonds froze as they gazed up at the big girl dressed in
black leather.  Karen bulled her way between girls and held out a hand
to Trisha.  "Why don't you come with me Trish," she said in a familiar
tone.  "You don't need to take any more shit from these two spoiled
little bitches!"  Trisha was stunned, but she stooped down, picked up
her books then took the older girl's offered hand anyway.  Before
going with Karen, Trisha turned and stared at Morgan and Sherry.  The
expressions on the faces of the two girls were priceless.  They had
never been so humiliated in all of their young lives, and they showed
it.  Realizing that her two tormentors were completely intimidated by
the older girl in leather, Trisha stuck her tongue out at them.  Then
she turned away and left the school grounds, hand in hand with Karen,
her new found friend.

"Hop in," Karen said cheerfully as they approached the blue Miata.  

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Trisha hesitated saying, "I really
gotta get home now."

"Home?" Karen said in surprise.  Then she added, "Well, alright.  If
you really want to.  Hop in, and I'll give you a lift."

Trisha would never know what came over her that afternoon.  Perhaps it
was the elation she felt at being delivered from the hands of Sherry
and Morgan.  She would never know for certain.  Casting aside
everything she'd been taught, Trisha threw caution to the wind and
climbed into the car. 

"So why do you let those two little bitches treat you like that?"
Karen asked after they'd gone a couple of blocks.  Trisha didn't
answer.  Instead she sat staring down at her knees.  "You need to
learn to stick up for yourself, girl," the blond said.  "You stick
with me, and I promise you, neither of those two or any of their
accomplices will ever bother you again.  Would you like that Trish?"
Karen asked.  Observing the pretty girl out of the corner of her eye,
Karen saw her nod.  They drove on in silence for a spell.  "So what do
you do for fun, Trish?"

"My name's Trisha," the younger girl said.

"Yeah, well, I like Trish better," Karen said with a laugh.  "You can
be Trisha for those bitchy little blonds, but to me, you're Trish."
The young girl stared at Karen in surprise, but didn't offer any
argument.  After a minute, the older blond asked again, "What do you
do for a good time, Trish?"

Trisha remained silent for several minutes while Karen waited
patiently.  "I...I like to read," she offered softly.

"You like to read?"  Karen retorted incredulously.  "That's what you
do for fun?  You like to read?"  At the risk of having the young girl
think of her as another of her hecklers, Karen allowed her words to
hang in the air for a moment.  "Trish, Trish," she then added in a
more friendly way.  "No wonder those spoiled little bitches tease
you."  She turned and gazed briefly at Trisha with a look of sympathy
on her face.  "I've got some friends you gotta meet, Trish," Karen
added with a tone of finality.

"But, I need to get home," Trisha reminded the older girl behind the
wheel.

"Yeah, well, I promise I'll get you home later, but first you have to
meet my friends.  It'll do you a world of good Trish, baby!  Trust
me."

The front windows of the abandoned corner grocery store were so dirty
they were practically opaque.  After rapping on the glass in the
prescribed manner, someone inside of the old building unlocked and
opened the door for Karen and her new friend.  With a hand on Trisha's
shoulder, Karen escorted the pretty auburn haired girl ahead of her
through the front door of the Zipper's club house and hangout.  

Unfamiliar smells of stale beer and marijuana smoke assaulted Trisha's
senses as she stood gazing around the dimly lit room.  Suddenly she
realized that people were beginning to crowd around her.  From out of
nowhere, a hand reached out and stroked Trisha's right cheek, causing
the young girl to recoil with a startled squeak.  

"Easy, Trish," Karen chuckled, giving the timid girl a reassuring
squeeze on her shoulder.  Then to the unseen crowd she said, "Take it
easy guys, she's new here, you know."

"She's cute," a voice said from out of the gloom.

"She is cute," Karen agreed, causing Trisha to blush hotly.  "Guys,
this is Trish.  Trish, these juvenile delinquents are my brothers and
sisters.  We call ourselves the Zippers.  Ever heard of us?" Karen
asked.  

"I... I... Yeah, I guess," Trisha answered timidly.

"Don't mind Trish," Karen said to her unseen friends with a laugh.
"She's not stuck up like her friends.  She's just a little shy, that's
all.  She's a good kid, once you get to know her," the older blond
added as though she'd known Trisha all of her life.

Suddenly someone put a heavy arm around Trisha's shoulders.  A husky
voice and its accompanying beer breath said, "Hi there, shy girl."
Trisha gasped as the owner of the voice nuzzled his face against the
side of her neck.  She shot a startled and fearful look in Karen's
direction.

"Don't worry, Trish, baby.  That's just Ron," Karen said reassuringly.
"Ron won't hurt you, and neither will anybody else here."  

Trisha shivered as her unseen admirer nibbled at the back of her neck
just below her hairline.  She'd never been touched before by anyone in
any fashion, and the sensation was at the same time both unsettling
and thrilling.

"OK, that's enough, Ron," Karen laughed.  "Down, boy!"  Then she took
Trisha's hand and led her into the gloom toward the back of the room.
All around her Trisha saw bodies or parts of bodies looming out of the
smoke filled air.  Arriving at last in front of a dilapidated sofa,
Karen told Trisha to take a seat, and relax, and that she'd return in
a minute.  

Trisha sat gazing about nervously.  From out of the gloom she heard
voices but couldn't tell what, if anything, was said.  She also heard
strange moans and other animal-like sounds that were both foreign to
her and mildly disturbing.  In addition she noticed a musky smell in
the air, one that was unfamiliar to Trisha, yet strangely familiar
somehow.  Suddenly someone touched her face, causing her to jump.

"Hey, easy there, Trish, baby," a familiar voice said from behind her.
It was Karen.  The older blond girl stepped around the old sofa and
plopped down beside Trisha.  "Here," she said, handing the surprised
young girl an open can of Budweiser.  

"I'd better not," Trisha said timidly.

"Why the hell not?" Karen retorted after taking a swig off her own
beer.  "You're among friends now, Trish.  You need to lighten up and
have some fun.  It's OK, really."

Trisha looked at the older girl who'd come to her aid earlier, and at
last she rewarded her new friend with a cautiously trusting smile.
Trisha took a sip of Budweiser.  It was another first for her.  Before
that moment, Trisha Nelson had never tasted beer or any other kind of
alcoholic beverage for that matter, not surprisingly it didn't take
long at all for the alcohol to go straight to her head.

Recognizing the calming effects the beer was having on Trisha, Karen
began to ask her some questions.  Karen kept the topics innocent at
first, asking Trisha about her school and her home life.  She asked
about her parents, what they did for a living, etc.  Trisha confided
in her new friend that although she got along OK with her Dad and
Step-mom, they were both very busy with their careers and tended to
neglect her for the most part.  

"So your parents don't pester you and monitor your every move?" Karen
asked.  "Hey, I wish my parents had been like that when I was your
age," she then added with a smile.  "So, how old are you, Trish?"

"Twel...thirteen," the young girl replied more confidently.  She took
a big sip of beer from the half empty sixteen ounce can.  Suddenly she
burped loudly.  "Oh!" Trisha exclaimed, startled and embarrassed.
Then she laughed.  It was the first good laugh she'd had for quite
some time.

"Any boyfriends?" Karen asked unexpectedly.  Then seeing the pretty
girl's face cloud over, she added quickly, "Hey, Trish.  Don't worry
about it.  Like I said, your among friends here."  Karen slipped
closer to Trisha and put her arm affectionately around the younger
girl's shoulders.  Trisha did not resist.  "I'm sure there's a boy out
there somewhere just waiting for you."  She nodded off into the gloomy
smoke filled room.  

The true meaning of Karen's statement eluded Trisha, but just out of
sight on the other side of the room, Jonathon Beasley sat staring
intently through the gloom at the pair seated on the old sofa.  The
first part of his plan had succeeded splendidly.  The girl was here,
and with any luck she'd be back.  Jonathon decided that it would be
prudent for him to wait until later to introduce himself.  That would
be the second part of his plan.  The part that he would enjoy the
most.

Karen brought Trisha a second beer, then the two girls sat and just
talked for another hour or so.  Karen kept the talk light, but she
took every chance she got to put her hands on the pretty adolescent.
Occasionally a suggestive groan could be heard from somewhere out in
the gloom of the dim clubroom.  "Just some Zippers havin' fun," Karen
explained with a smile when she saw Trisha's questioning expression.
"We're all real good friends here," she added.  Trisha smiled and
nodded shyly.  She glanced around a little sheepishly and took another
pull off her beer.  Then, as she lowered the can to her lap, Karen
unexpectedly reached out with her right hand and placed it softly on
Trisha's cheek.  Stroking the girl's magnificently soft skin, Karen
asked, "Are you my friend, Trish?"  

Startled at first, Trisha raised her left hand and covered Karen's
hand on her face.  She wore and expression of mild concern as she
gazed into the older girl's eyes.  Then at last, after a little shrug,
Trisha nodded her pretty head.

Karen smiled and said, "I'm glad, Trish.  I want for us to be really
good friends one day."

Over the next few weeks, Trisha Nelson slowly evolved into a different
person.  The usual conservative skirt and bouse she wore to school was
replaced by tight black jeans, a tube style pullover top and denim
jacket.  Her posture became more erect, and she spoke more
confidently.  Once when Morgan Perkins confronted her, Trisha stared
at the haughty blond in such a way that the girl actually took a step
back in surprise.

Trisha saw Karen fairly regularly during the period, and paid several
visits to the club house of the Zipper gang.  The older blond girl
would occasionally meet Trisha after school and the two of them would
either cruise around in the blue sports car, or they'd go to the mall
and hang out.  Karen was constantly running into her friends, both
male and female, some of whom Trisha began to recognize as Zippers,
since they all wore the gang colors, black jeans, black tee shirts and
black leather jackets adorned with many zippers.

Then one fateful afternoon as the two friends sat side by side in the
Taco Bell at the mall, Karen dropped the bomb.  "Hey Trish, baby,"
Karen began in her familiar way.  "The guys have been talking, and
we'd like to see you join our family.  You interested?"

Six weeks ago, Trisha Nelson would have run like hell, had she been
asked to join what was rumored to be a rather notorious street gang,
but now, she wasn't so sure how she felt about the prospect.  Karen
had been so good to her.  In fact all of the Zippers had accepted her
and treated her as an equal.   During her visits to the club house,
the Zippers had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome.  They
let her drink beer freely.  Trisha had even tried a marijuana
cigarette recently.  Prior to meeting Karen and the Zippers, nobody
had ever treated Trisha civilly before.  No one had ever wanted to
include her in anything, at least not that she could remember.

"I...I..." she stuttered.  

"What's the matter, Trish?  Cat got your tongue?" Karen said with a
laugh.  

Trisha gazed in silence at her new friend for a good while, then she
made a decision that would change her life.  "OK, sure," Trisha
replied.

"Cool deal, Sister!" Karen exclaimed.  Then she leaned closer and
kissed Trisha on her right cheek just brushing the corner of her
mouth.  At first this struck Trisha as being a bit unusual, a girl
kissing a girl, but Karen had followed up the seemingly innocent act
with such a winning smile, that Trisha's misgivings quickly faded.

Trisha spent every afternoon the following week at the Zipper's club
house in the company of her new found group of peers.  A couple of the
guys had given her looks that made Trisha feel excited and even a
little self-conscious, but so far no one had made any serious advances
toward her.  

Karen shared some makeup ideas with the younger girl, and the results
were stunning.  A little eye shadow here, some blush there, and Trisha
fairly bloomed, her natural adolescent good looks enhanced by the
cosmetics.  Still, the male members of the Zippers seemed to keep
their distance.  Trisha, now a little more confident in herself, was
puzzled, so she confided in her more mature friend, Karen.  "Why won't
any of the boys, you know, talk to me?" Trisha asked coyly one day.  

"What's the matter, Trish?  You looking for a boyfriend?" Karen asked
her with a good natured laugh and a wink.  Her blunt question
thoroughly embarrassed the younger girl.  "Don't worry, Sister.  Your
time will come.  You haven't been initiated yet, that's all."  

Trisha loved it when Karen called her "sister".  "Initiated?" she
asked her older mentor.

"You bet, Sister.  It's like a huge party, and that's when you earn
your colors.  I think Jonathon has your initiation planned for this
coming Saturday, so be sure to tell your parents that you'll be home
late."  Karen winked conspiratorially at Trisha.

"Wh...who's Jonathon?" Trisha inquired, vaguely remembering having
heard that name somewhere before.

"Jonathon is our Chieftain, Trish, baby," the older girl explained.
Then with a chuckle she added, "Ironically, he's the guy who almost
ran over you a few weeks ago.  Remember?  That's his sports car that
you and I have been cruising around in."

"Oh... oh yeah," Trisha replied.  She suddenly got a distant look on
her face.  Even after having only beheld the curly blond headed
Jonathon Beasley for an instant, he'd left a memorable impression on
Trisha as he did with most young women.

Karen recognized the dreamy expression on Trisha's face, and she
added, "Jonathon will be performing your initiation ritual, Sister.
You're gonna love it.  I promise."  The curious younger girl continued
to press Karen about the mysterious ritual she was to participate in,
but Karen would answer no further questions.  

The week passed slowly for the anxious adolescent.  Then on Friday
afternoon when they met after Trisha got out of school, Karen told the
younger girl to be sure to look her best tomorrow for her initiation.
"You don't want to disappoint Jonathon," she cautioned.

"OK," Trisha replied.  "So, what time Saturday night?"

"Oh no, Trish, baby.  You need to be at the club house by nine in the
morning."  Then observing the surprised expression on Trisha's face,
Karen added, "Like I said, it's gonna be a huge party, and you're the
guest of honor.  Don't be late," the blond girl told Trisha as they
parted ways.

Trisha was so excited that night she could barely sleep.  She was
mildly apprehensive, but the Zippers had treated her with such
kindness so far.  "Why should tomorrow be any different?" Trisha asked
herself just before drifting off to sleep.  

Saturday morning arrived at last.  Trisha heard her parents leave for
work almost an hour before dawn.  They worked six days a week,
sometimes seven.  After bathing, Trisha pulled on her best black
Jordache jeans that she'd reserved for the special occasion.  Next
came her most provacative tank top tee shirt which showed off what few
curves she had.  Trisha then spent close to thirty minutes applying
makeup exactly like Karen had shown her.  She wrapped up the package
with her favorite denim jacket, then stood for several minutes gazing
at herself in the full length mirror on the back of her bathroom door.
Trisha's objective was to impress her new friends and especially their
rather mysterious and reclusive Chieftain.  She looked stunning.

"You're late," Karen scolded as she let Trisha in the front door.
Trisha looked at her watch.  It was only ten minutes after nine.

"But," she began to make excuses for her tardiness.

"Forget it," Karen said with a wave of her hand.  Then stepping back
from the auburn haired girl, Karen said, "You look great, Sister."
Trisha beamed.  Although her self-image had improved to a degree over
the past month or so, Trisha still thrived on the approval of others.
"Grab a beer outta the fridge, have a seat, and I'll go see if they're
ready for you."  

When Karen left, Trisha once again found herself sitting alone, gazing
about the dingy room.  This morning, however, she saw no one else
seated anywhere in the big room or chatting with fellow Zippers in the
shadows. Trisha sipped her beer and waited.  Ten minutes passed before
Karen returned.

"OK, Sister.  It's time.  Come with me," she said smiling and holding
out her hand to Trisha.  Allowing herself to be led by the hand,
Trisha followed her older friend through a rear door that she'd not
noticed before now.  

The room into which Trisha was led was so dark that it took several
moments for her eyes to adjust enough for her to see anything at all.
Peering into the semi-darkness, the young girl thought she could make
out what looked to be a huge bed several feet away.  Suddenly someone
appeared beside Trisha and Karen.  

"Here," the person said, handing a big marijuana cigarette to Trisha.
A few weeks ago, Trisha would have recoiled, but by now, the use of
alcohol and marijuana were second nature to her.

"Thanks," Trisha said, taking the joint from the girl whom she thought
she recognized as one of her soon to be "Sisters" by the name of
Barbara.  Barbara was a lovely girl just a couple of years older than
Trisha.  They'd talked on a few occasions, and Barbara, like all the
Zippers had expressed how happy she was that Trisha was going to join
them.  Trisha took a pull on the joint.  It was powerful stuff and
instantly made her head spin.  

"Come in," a male voice said from the direction of the big bed.

Cautiously, Trisha approached with Karen behind her.  Someone moved in
the shadows to her right.  Then suddenly from out of the darkness,
Jonathon Beasley appeared.  Before Trisha knew it, the charismatic
young man stood directly in front of her.  He looked godlike in his
flowing white robe.

"Welcome, Trisha," Jonathon Beasley murmured softly as he reached for
her face.  Everything in Trisha wanted to pull away from his touch,
but she found that she was rooted in place almost as if by magnetism.
She tipped her head slightly when he placed his palm gently onto her
right cheek.  "We're glad... I'm glad you're here."  The light was
quite poor, but Trisha was sure that he was smiling.  "Why don't you
have a seat on the Ceremonial Altar, and we'll get started," Jonathon
said after a pause.  Then he placed his hands onto Trisha's shoulders
and gently moved her back against the edge of the huge bed.  

Trisha sat.  She had no choice.  It was either that or fall flat onto
her back.  Glancing quickly to her left, Trisha spied several other
bodies on the bed with her.  It looked to her like every female member
of the gang was there, but oddly, there were no boys present.  
"Drink this," Karen said unexpectedly.  When Trisha looked in her
direction, the older girl was standing before her holding out a golden
colored goblet.

Obediently, Trisha took the heavy cup, then realizing she still held a
burning marijuana cigarette, she passed that off to Karen with a
sheepish smile.  "What is it?" Trisha asked, staring down at the
chalice in her small hands.  

"It's ceremonial wine," Karen said flatly.  "Drink it.  It's part of
our ritual and your right of passage."  Trisha took a sip.  It didn't
taste too bad.  She lowered the cup and looked up at her older friend.
"Drink it all," Karen instructed.  

Jonathon Beasley stood nearby observing, and when the young girl had
at last tipped back the painted gold goblet and consumed all of its
contents," he spoke, this time in a very somber tone of voice.  "Do
you, Trisha Nelson, truly wish to join us?".

After a pause, Trisha nodded her head, then in a small voice she
answered, "Yeah, I mean, yes sir."  

Her use of the word "sir" made Jonathon smile inwardly.  "And will you
accept all of the duties and responsibilities of a full Sister of the
Zipper?"

Trisha wasn't at all certain what the young man meant by his last
statement, but she was suddenly feeling so very warm and comfortable
that she nodded her head anyway.  Her eyes appeared even more dreamy
looking than usual as she gazed up at the attractive Chieftain of the
gang.

"And will you join with your sisters and me now in the Ceremonial
Right of Passage?"  Jonathon asked the girl.

After a prolonged hesitation, during which time Trisha struggled to
collect her thoughts, she responded.  "Uh huh.  I... I guess so."
Then to herself Trisha remarked, "I'm so dizzy.  God, I hope I don't
fall asleep."

Trisha naturally had no idea that the cheep red wine she'd just
consumed was heavily laced with a special cocktail of Jonathon's own
concoction.  Disguised by the extremely sweet wine was the more bitter
taste of phenobarbital, a rather strong  sedative.  And, for extra
measure, a small amount of the drug, Rohypnol was added.  Rohypnol,
the popular "date rape" drug of choice, was very effective at
rendering the subject more "cooperative", and it had the added benefit
of inducing a mild state of short term amnesia.  

"Then we'll begin," Jonathon said.  As he spoke the lights in the room
slowly grew brighter.  Just before Trisha swooned, she observed that
on the large bed with her lay fifteen girls of varying ages.  The
young ladies were dressed in identical, loose fitting white smocks and
lay watching Trisha closely.  Even in her muzzy state of rapidly
flagging consciousness, Trisha recognized many of them.  As she'd
previously suspected, the girls represented the entire female
contingent of the Zipper gang.  

Trisha slowly fell onto her side on the soft surface of the big bed,
where she lay in a state of semi-cognizance.  She had a vague idea of
where she was, and that many hands were touching her.  Trisha didn't
feel the slightest bit concerned as she was slowly pulled farther onto
the "Ceremonial Altar".  

She opened her eyes and gazed sleepily up into the face of a girl by
the name of Jamie.  Jamie was a lovely brunette about sixteen years
old .  Trisha had talked with Jamie on more than one occasion, and
liked the girl.  She was particularly surprised then when after
rolling Trisha onto her back, Jamie leaned over her, smiled then
without hesitation, peeled her white smock over her head.  Even in her
semi-conscious state, the alarm bells went off in Trisha's head.  

"Good girls should never take their clothes off in front of other
people," she heard her mother's voice speak from the distant reaches
of her childhood.  Turning her head slowly to the left, Trisha
realized that all of the Sisters were undressing.  Then she felt
someone kneel on the bed close beside her.  It was her new friend,
Karen.

"Hi there, Trish, baby," the blond murmured.  "Why don't I help you
get a little more comfortable," she then offered as she slid her
fingers under the waist band of Trisha's jeans and began to fumble
with the top button.  Karen was naked too.  Although she was unable to
think clearly, Trisha's expression plainly described her concern when
the older girl unzipped her jeans.  "Now, now, don't you worry,
Sister," the older girl whispered.  "We've all been right here where
you are now," Karen said referring, of course, to the rest of the
female members of the gang.  Grasping Trisha's jeans on either side of
her narrow hips, Karen started tugging the tight denim downward.
"It's a little scarey at first, I know, but Jonathon is wonderful, I
promise.  Pretty soon you're gonna feel better than you could ever
imagine."  While she talked, Karen pulled Trisha's pants down passed
her knees, exposing her pale blue panties.  "Why don't you get her
shoes for me, Jamie," Karen said to the brunette who knelt next to
them.  Jamie immediately slid quietly off the bed, and Trisha felt her
running shoes being unlaced.

Trisha was extremely confused.  "Was she having a nightmare?" she
wondered groggily.  She found herself thinking that she would soon
awaken and the disturbing images and sensations would all go away.
Trisha drifted off.

Then her friend, Karen was leaning over her again.  "Let's take your
tee shirt off, shall we."  Then she added, "You look so pretty, Trish.
I know Jonathon is pleased."   Then as the older girl's fingers
slipped beneath the lower hem of her shirt, to Trisha's astonishment,
Karen bent down and kissed her full on the mouth.  It wasn't an
affectionate little peck either.  Before Trisha could even think to
turn her face away, she felt her older friend's tongue dart between
her lips and slide swiftly across the smooth surface of her sparkling
teeth.  Then Trisha felt Karen pull her tee shirt up under her arms.
She hadn't started wearing a bra yet for so far there was no need.
Trisha knew that she was being exposed but was unable to do a thing to
prevent it.  She watched as if from a distance, while her more mature
friend, slipped the straps of her tank top down over her shoulders.
With a warm smile, Karen slid an arm under her back and raised her up
into a semi-seated  position.  "You're a very sexy girl, Trish," Karen
whispered gruffly into her ear as she pulled the tank top over
Trisha's head.  Then after lowering her back to the surface of the
"Ceremonial Altar", she took a minute to fix the younger girl's bangs.

The next thing Trisha realized as she drifted in and out of a
dreamlike state, was that the man named Jonathon was standing at her
feet, staring down at her.  Seemingly from far away, Trisha heard the
man remark, "You're right, Karen.  Trisha is a very sexy young lady
indeed."  Barely conscious now, Trisha felt herself blush hotly under
Jonathon's gaze.  To be naked in front of a man produced conflicting
feelings within the young girl: self-consciousness, fear,
embarrassment and oddly enough, excitement.

While the other girls looked on, Jonathon Beasley sat on edge of the
bed, swung his legs around and lay on his side next to Trisha, facing
her.  She jumped beneath his touch when he placed a hand onto her
naked shoulder.  Her skin was amazingly soft and warm.  Trisha stared
into his eyes, her face portrayed her alarm and confusion.  With a
warm smile Jonathon murmured to her, "You've never been with a man
before, have you sweetheart?"  He moved his hand to Trisha's face and
began to stroke her cheek.  "I'm going to make it wonderful for you, I
promise," the older man said as he rubbed his thumb across Trisha's
lips.  

Somehow, the groggy young girl managed to move her left arm, and with
a great deal of effort she was able to grab Jonathon by his left wrist
in a weak attempt to pull his hand away from her face.

The bed moved on the other side of Trisha's prostrate form, then to
her surprise, Karen slid down beside her, and gently took Trisha's
hand and pulled it away.  After placing the young girl's arm back by
her side where she could do no more mischief, Karen whispered, "Now
you be a good girl and let Jonathon teach you, Trish.  Without his
lessons and blessings, you can't become a Full Sister of the Zipper."
Karen squeezed Trisha's wrist reassuringly.  "We're all here with you,
Trish," Karen went on when she saw the alarm flash in the pretty
girl's eyes as a result of the fact that Jonathon was beginning his
examination of her undeveloped breasts.

Trisha's areolae were only slightly smaller than a quarter, and there
was little to no trace of swelling beneath her smooth skin.  "Such
pretty little titties," Jonathon Beasley muttered as he moved his
finger in slow circles over the silky surface of Trisha's left areola.
The tiny bud in the center of the satin disk began to stiffen.
Jonathon spread his fingers apart and swept them back and forth across
the very tip of the sensitive little nubbin.  

Karen watched the youngster's face while Jonathon touched her breasts.
Trisha was upset.  Of that fact there was no doubt, but underlying the
more obvious signs of distress, glowed an ember of innate curiosity.
Even through her drug induced haze, Trisha experienced unfamiliar and
exciting new sensations she'd never felt before.  "We're all here for
you, Trish," Karen repeated.  "Aren't we, Sisters?"

Several new faces appeared over Trisha, as the young girls lent their
support.  "That's right, Trisha.  All of my girls are here with you,"
Jonathon said, smiling at the little winces he received when he
pinched first one tiny nipple, then the other.  

"Why don't you girls show your new sister how much you care for her,"
Jonathon suggested.  Almost instantly Trisha felt hands on her body.
The Sisters of the Zipper touched her softly, as only young girls can.
They rubbed her shoulders and neck.  They stroked her hair and her
cheeks.  They touched her lips, and her ears, then her chest.  Trisha
lay dazed and helpless while her new friends explored almost every
inch of her body with their gentle hands and nimble fingers; almost
every inch.

Karen had just pressed her lips to Trisha's when the pretty adolescent
suddenly moaned into her open mouth.  She felt the girl tremble and
knew precisely what had just happened.  Trisha moaned again.  Pulling
her mouth from that of the pretty twelve year old, Karen whispered,
"Shh...shh...shh...  It's alright Trish.  Just relax and let it
happen."  Glancing downward out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw
Jonathon's thick wrist protruding from under the waist band of
Trisha's panties.  

Jonathon had, of course, done this many times before.  While the other
girls distracted his new companion, he slowly moved his hand downward.
He didn't touch her until the very last minute.  Then as Karen bent to
kiss the little beauty, Jonathon deftly slipped his fingers under the
thin elastic waist band and down into paradise.  He heard the girl
moan into Karen's mouth and felt her try to rotate her hips away from
his exploring hand.  Jonathon's fingers traveled quickly across
Trisha's soft lower belly until at last he pressed his finger tips
against the warm, resilient flesh of her narrow vulva.

Jonathon Beasley had been with a lot of young women in his time, but
this sweet child was definitely his youngest to date.  To his great
delight, Jonathon was finding the experience to be every bit as
thrilling as he'd imagined.  The little beauty moaned again when
without delay, Jonathon wiggled his middle finger between the slender
lips of her outer labia.  Her hips jerked reflexively once or twice as
he slowly caressed the highly sensitive folds that no man had touched
before.  She was moist, but not wet.  Jonathon heard Karen murmuring
to the young girl as he removed his hand from Trisha's panties and sat
up beside her.  His other girls shifted to make room for him when
Jonathon suddenly muttered, "Let's take these down, now."  Hooking his
thumbs under the waist band of Trisha's panties, the attractive leader
of the Zipper gang, stripped the small garment down to her ankles.
Jonathon then slipped off the bed and stood at Trisha's feet.
Reaching down, he removed the panties from her feet and brought them
up to his face.  Nuzzling his lips and nose into the soft material,
still warm from the heat of her nubile body, Jonathon inhaled deeply
of Trisha Nelson's intoxicating scent.  

The girl's heady bouquet on the warm cotton compelled Jonathon to move
on.  He spent a minute studying Trisha before he knelt at her feet
beside the bed.  Her hips were rather narrow, and her legs were long
and slim.  Her tummy was flat, and between her smooth thighs, her
narrow womanhood rose in a pronounced arch, totally devoid of pubic
fur.  As he'd discovered from his earlier tactile inspection of
Trisha, her labia majora were slender, yet nicely plump, and between
them just a hint of her inner lips could be seen.  It was time for
Jonathon to meet the girl first hand.

He got the attention of two of his young assistants, and while Karen
continued to distract the child with kisses, Jonathon's two helpers
each raised one of Trisha's legs enough for him to slide under them.
Next the two helpful girls lowered Trisha's legs across Jonathon's
broad shoulders, allowing her heels to rest once again on the surface
of the bed on either side of his body.  Trisha Nelson lay open before
Jonathon like a ripe melon.  

A moment later, he dropped his face between her legs and completely
covered Trisha with his mouth.  The young girl heaved her hips upward
against Jonathon's mouth as his tongue darted over her.  Trisha's
savory, pre-pubescent flavor was like ambrosia beneath his tongue.  A
luxuriant musky sweetness with just a hint of saltiness greeted
Jonathon's lips as he gently kissed and suckled the soft folds of
femininity between Trisha Nelson's trembling thighs.  The sweet child
instinctively pressed her thighs together, hugging his head in a warm
embrace.

With Karen on one end and Jonathon on the other, the two older members
of the Zipper gang entertained young Trisha orally for close to
fifteen minutes.  When at last Jonathon Beasley raised his mouth from
his sweet feast, his nose, cheeks and mouth glistened with her nubile
nectar.  Performing cunnilingus on the slender twelve year old had
been one of the most erotic experiences that Jonathon could remember.

The Chieftain of the Zippers located Trisha's panties and used them to
wipe her essence off of his lips and nose, before he slipped out from
under her legs and stood up beside the bed.  Then he stood for several
minutes, watching Karen and the girls with their newest sister.  It
was a touching scene.  He watched Trisha arch her back and writhe
under the delicate attentions of his sweet assistants.  In a few
minutes they'd have her ready for him.

Leaving the girls to their work for the time being, Jonathon stepped
to a small desk on one side of the room.  There on the desk top
waiting for him was his initiation kit.  Picking up the small black
leather case, Jonathon returned to the ceremonial bed and its busy
group of young occupants.  One of the girls had taken his place
between Trisha's thighs while Karen continued to kiss the her deeply.
The rest of the sisters crowded around the recumbent young lady,
moving their delicate hands over every square inch of her slim body.  

Anticipating their Chieftain's wishes, a few  of the girls moved away
from Trisha's right side so that Jonathon could move onto the bed
beside her once again.  After opening the black case and placing it
onto the bed , he carefully picked up Trisha's right arm.  Judging
from her lack of resistance, Jonathon surmised that his little
cocktail had the girl pretty thoroughly in its clutches.  "It's time
to liven you up some, little lady," he muttered under his breath as he
studied the pale skin in the crotch of Trisha's elbow.  "Then you and
I are going to become very good friends," he added with a chuckle.
With his thumb, Jonathon massaged the tender skin on the inside of the
little girl's arm.  "You've got very small veins, my dear girl, but I
think `Doctor Jonathon' can work with you.  Let's give it a try, OK."
He lay her arm gently onto the bed. 

Jonathon removed a short piece of surgical tubing from his kit and
looped it loosely around Trisha's arm just above the elbow.  The
Sisters saw to it that Trisha was thoroughly distracted so that she
didn't notice when Jonathon pulled the tourniquet tight.  Then he
waited.  

After several seconds one thin dark line rose beneath her pale skin.
"It'll just have to do," Jonathon muttered as he dabbed at the inside
of Trisha's elbow with an alcohol wipe.  The alcohol vapor, to a
degree, acted like smelling salts, and as Jonathon removed the clear
glass 3cc hypodermic syringe from his kit, Trisha suddenly opened her
eyes and peered up at him.  The girl's eyes grew wide with fright when
she watched Jonathon hold the pre-loaded syringe up to the light and
thump on the side of its barrel with his index finger.  Next he
carefully depressed the glass plunger until one single sparkling drop
of its contents appeared at the beveled tip of the needle.  This
process served to dislodge any air bubbles that might have been
trapped in the hypodermic.  Anticipating a potential problem due to
Trisha's slight build, Jonathon had selected a very fine needle.  It
would cause the injection to take a bit longer, but would assure a
complete delivery.  

Trisha's face became a mask of fear as Jonathon lowered the syringe,
moving its needle sharp tip toward her arm.  His able young assistants
restrained Trisha's shoulders while Jonathon held her arm tightly with
his free hand.  She made a high pitched whining sound.  "Hush now,
sweetheart.  This won't hurt one bit," the Chieftain of the Zipper's
murmured. 

Trisha's tender skin dimpled inward for a fraction of a second before
the thin needle pushed through.  Jonathon felt her tremble in his
grip.  "Hold still now, and this will all be over in no time," he
cautioned the frightened girl.  Jonathon breathed a silent sigh of
relief when he felt the slight resistance of the vein wall.  Then with
a barely noticeable "thump", detectable through the barrel of the
syringe, the tip of the needle entered the young girl's circulatory
system.  

"Mmmm," Trisha whined softly.

"Shh...shh...shh," Jonathon whispered.  "We're almost there," he said,
his voice hushed with concentration.  He had to be extremely careful
not to push the needle all the way through the vein.  Holding the
barrel of the hypodermic absolutely still, Jonathon gently drew back
on the plunger.  "There we are," he murmured to himself when he saw
the tiny plume of bright red blood jet into the crystal clear solution
of clinical grade cocaine hydroxide contained within the barrel of the
syringe.  The contents of the syringe quickly turned a translucent
pink as it mixed with Trisha's blood.  

He was in.  Jonathon thought of the delights soon to come as he
smoothly depressed the plunger, injecting the powerful drug into the
young girl.  As long as he left the tourniquet in place, very little
of the potent cocaine would escape into the rest of Trisha's system
until he was ready for her.  When most of the contents of the syringe
had disappeared into Trisha's arm, he stopped.  

"If one of you would be so kind as to assist me, we're almost ready to
begin," Jonathon said to the group of young ladies who'd gathered
closely around to witness the thrilling event.  

"I'll help," one girl said as she slid carefully off the bed.

"Thank you, Wendy," Jonathon murmured.  "I know that we're in capable
hands," he said.  

Getting back to the business at hand, Jonathon slowly pulled back on
the plunger of the hypodermic.  He watched the clear glass barrel turn
dark red as it slowly filled with Trisha's blood.  

This procedure is known as "booting", and by mixing the remainder of
the cocaine with a some of the girl's blood, he'd know that a complete
dose would be delivered..  When the syringe was about half filled,
Jonathon again pressed the plunger forward, this time injecting the
entire contents of the hypodermic into Trisha.  

"There we are, my dear," Jonathon said huskily as he pulled the needle
out of the little girl's arm.  One of the Sisters dabbed the injection
site with an alcohol wipe while Jonathon lay the empty syringe aside.
Still in a partially sedated state, Trisha stared muzzy eyed up at
Jonathon as he rose to his knees on the big bed beside her.  

He moved a little faster now.  Sliding his hands under Trisha's
calves, Jonathon raised her knees up.  "You're about to begin a new
life, my dear girl," he murmured as with a little help from two of his
assistants, Jonathon separated Trisha's knees and spread her legs
widely apart.  

As he did he felt the Sister named Wendy dab at his right ankle with
an alcohol wipe.  He remembered his times with Miss Wendy.  Jonathon
had been her first as well.  This morning it would be Wendy's duty to
administer his dosage of the potent stimulant drug at just right
moment.  All of his girls had been thoroughly trained in the technique
of intravenous injection.  Wendy, in fact, had helped him before in
this exact same endeavor, and Jonathon was confident in her ability
and timing.  

Trisha's alarm was much more pronounced now, as the man crawled
between her legs.  "Whaaaaaa?" she cried, gazing up at Jonathon, who
was in the process of hoisting up his robes.  "Nnnoooo!" Trisha whined
as she looked to Karen for sympathy and deliverance.  The man scooted
forward so that the tops of his hairy thighs pressed against the
underside of Trisha's slim legs.  

Trisha was helpless before him now.  She'd seen a few "dirty
magazines" and had a pretty good idea what was about to happed to her.
It was the knowledge of the details of the impending event that she
lacked.

"Just relax, now, Trish," Karen murmured in an effort calm the
frightened twelve year old.  "It's all perfectly natural, and Jonathon
is real gentle.  Aren't you Jonathon?" the blond teenager said,
looking up at her Chieftain.

"That's right, little one," Jonathon cooed as he stroked himself to
full erection beneath his robe.  He purposely kept himself out of
sight so as not to further alarm his intended.  Then he leaned over
Trisha, supporting his weight with one hand on the bed next to the
young girl's shoulder.  "Are you ready Wendy, my dear?"  

"Yes, Jonathon," the girl replied dutifully.  She'd already applied a
tourniquet around the his lower calf, just above the ankle, and on her
leader's signal, she pushed the point of the second syringe into the
bulging vein at his right ankle.

"The tourniquet, please, Karen," Jonathon said.  Then as the blond
girl snapped the rubber tubing off of Trisha's arm, he leaned forward
and brought himself against the young girl.  "This is your special
day, Trisha.  Today you leave your childhood behind you and join the
Sisterhood."

There were few things that Jonathon enjoyed more than deflowering a
young girl.  He had personally helped eleven of the sixteen young
ladies present in the room that morning to make that most memorable
journey out of childhood, and Trisha Nelson would make his score an
even dozen.  Jonathon waited, poised at her gates, for the
unmistakable signs of the cocaine rush to show itself in his young
companion.  He did not have long to wait.

Trisha's lovely face was a symphony of concern, mixed with curiosity
when she first felt him press against her most intimate flesh.  It was
like nothing she'd ever experienced.  A smooth, glowing heat and the
sensation of mild pressure.  

Then, as Jonathon gazed down at his sweet prize her eyes began to grow
wide and staring.  Her facial expression became on of puzzled
introspection, almost as though she were looking through him.  "Now,
please, Wendy, my dear," Jonathon said and began to push with his
hips.

It was as though a wave had washed over her as the precursor of the
powerful stimulant assaulted Trisha's nervous system.  At the same
time she felt an unfamiliar mounting pressure between her legs.  The
young girl had no time to consider its source, however, as the second
and far more formidable wave of omnipotence began to build to a
crescendo.  "Huuuuhhhhhh," Trisha gasped as the full force of the
cocaine struck like a tsunami.  Sounds around her rose and fell in
volume, reverberating crazily.  A feeling of raw, animal power swept
through her, obliterating all other physical sensation, including the
ever increasing stinging, feeling of tearing and stretching, the exact
source of which, she was no longer certain.  Around the perimeter of
her ever narrowing field of vision loomed the faces of her sisters to
be, and in its center was the face of Jonathon Beasley surrounded by a
sizzling aura of light energy.  "Muuuhhhh," Trisha huffed as she gazed
upward into the face of her Chieftain.  There were hands on her body.
Hands everywhere, touching, stroking.

Jonathon Beasley was not an overly well endowed man, which was just as
well, considering his tastes for younger partners.  Besides his group
of sisters, most of whom he'd personally assisted into womanhood,
Jonathon had been with countless other partners, but none held a
candle to this little lady.  As his own dosage of cocaine began to
take effect, Jonathon could feel the young girl begin to dilate around
the tip of his manhood.  This being his first experience with a girl
of Trisha's age, he wasn't sure if he would be successful on his first
attempt at entry, but as the cocaine induced rush of unlimited power
washed through him, Jonathon gave one forceful thrust of his hips.  He
felt her tear, and with a cry of surprise more so than pain, Trisha
Nelson gave up her childhood to him.

Jonathon proceeded very slowly with Trisha.  He knew that there would
be some pain involved with her passage into womanhood.  There always
was.  He also knew if he introduced himself into her gradually,
allowing her unseasoned internal musculature to adjust to his presence
that she would have a much easier time of it.  It wasn't easy going
for Jonathon, however.  The youngster was extremely tight, and her
instincts were to resist his intrusion.  

"Oww," she moaned.  The look on her face was one of confusion, mostly.

"Just relax, baby, and let your Chieftain make everything wonderful
for you," the older man murmured as he lowered his body downward onto
her prostrate form.  He felt her small body tremble beneath him as he
rested his elbows on the bed on either side of Trisha's head.  "Just
relax, sweetheart," Jonathon Beasley whispered, his lips just inches
from hers.  Then, as he carefully eased another inch of himself into
his young partner, Jonathon began showering soft kisses onto Trisha's
cheeks and eyes and nose.  At last, Jonathon covered her small mouth
with his.  The Sisters of the Zipper looked on as the muscles of his
buttocks flexed from his persistent effort.  

Wave after wave of scintillating energy flowed through Trisha until
every nerve ending in her body sizzled with increased sensitivity.
Her vision narrowed to the point where she saw the room as if from the
end of a small bore pipe, and as she stared upward through
uncomprehending eyes her lover's face loomed into view then blurred as
he moved down toward her.  His lips were hot against her cheeks and
eyelids, then suddenly his tongue was in her mouth, searching,
probing.  

The stinging sensation she'd felt moments ago was gone and in its
place was the rapidly increasing sensation of pressure and heat.
Trisha's tummy bulged outward, and she groaned into her lover's mouth,
as her world began to revolve around the unfamiliar yet utterly
enthralling presence in the very center of her being.  

During his first foray into her depths Jonathon Beasley was able to
introduce approximately five inches of himself into his little lover
before he felt the head of his penis press against the back of her
unseasoned vaginal passage.  Once there, he held perfectly still for
several minutes, reveling in the feeling of her nubile muscles as they
contracted around him, clutching him in a warm, steely soft grip.  He
felt soft puffs of her breath against his cheek as she exhaled through
her nose while Jonathon kissed her passionately.  Then slowly, he
began to move.

The minutes seemed like hours, and time seemed to compress for Trisha
as the older man made love to her, slowly at first, then with ever
increasing enthusiasm.  Later when Trisha recalled this, her first
love affair, she would remember it as a rapid series of still images,
much like a high speed slide show.  One moment, Jonathon's body
covered hers, and she felt the weight and heat of him on top of her.
Then he was kneeling between her legs.  Jonathon placed her legs over
his, and then taking her slim thighs in his big hands, he pulled
Trisha onto himself again and again.  

Trisha's Nelson's world became a spell binding progression of
exquisite carnal delights, each one new and unfamiliar.  Faces loomed
into view.  Incomprehensible sounds reverberated at the edge of her
consciousness as Trisha became marginally aware of a tumult of
activity all around her on the "Ceremonial Altar" as other couples
paired up and got down to business.  Dazzling auras flickered at the
perimeter of her vision, and through it all, an incessant and
purposeful thrusting heat alternately infused her then withdrew,
leaving her empty and wanting.

Then suddenly Jonathon's face loomed over her.  Trisha gazed up at her
lover.  Blue/white fire crackled around him as he murmured something
unintelligible to her.

His first salvo was like a physical blow, causing Trisha to grunt in
surprise.  Her innocent blue eyes flew open in response to the
unexpected sensation of an all encompassing liquid heat which spread
quickly through her lower anatomy.  Then like the mercury in a
thermometer the inferno rose upward, until Trisha could feel his
warmth behind her eyes.  His first offering was followed quickly by a
second.  Trisha was stretched rather tightly around Jonathon's girth,
leaving no escape route for the mounting hydraulic pressure, and as a
result her otherwise flat tummy bulged outward as she accepted a
goodly quantity of Jonathon Beasley's bodily fluid into her interior.

Trisha took more than one lover that day, but just exactly how many,
she would never really know for sure.  Once the Chieftain was finished
with her "initiation", another male Zipper jumped right in to fill his
spot, and so on, and so on.  To Trisha the occasion was nothing but a
blur of flesh.  Hands were everywhere, touching her everywhere, and
lips covered her body with kisses.  Tongues licked and mouths sucked,
and always there was the omnipresent fullness, thrusting again and
again into her very center.  

At some point when she was with her second or third lover, Trisha
climaxed.  It was an experience like nothing she could ever have
imagined.  As waves of sensual energy passed through every fiber of
her body, Trisha felt gentle lips upon hers.  Slowly she opened her
eyes and focused on the person kissing her.  It was Karen.  Trisha
would always remember the image of her new friend leaning over her and
smiling.  Later, she and Karen would go on to develop a strong bond,
and the two girls would become almost inseparable.  That is, of
course, when Trisha had free time. 

Trisha's new life as a Sister of the Zipper proved to be an active
one.  She learned from the other girls that as a Full Sister, she had
certain responsibilities and duties to perform.  It was understood
that any gang member, and at times guests of Jonathon's, could request
the company of the Sister of his choosing when ever he wished.  Since
Trisha was new and fresh, her services were naturally in great demand
for many weeks following her "initiation ceremony".  The male members
of the gang and a few of the girls kept her quite busy, and in no time
at all, Trisha Nelson became a very well educated young lady.  And
along with that education, the Zippers provided Trisha with that which
she had always desired.  Companionship. 

End...SM

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