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From: "Georgie Porgie" <georgieporgie@fastmail.fm>
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Subject: {ASSM} Desk Thirteen 01: Christina Goes to School {Georgie Porgie} (Bb+/g6 pedo nc humil)
Date: Tue, 15 Apr 2003 15:10:03 -0400
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          Don't skip over this disclaimer!  It's important!

       This and other stories by Georgie Porgie can be found at:
                 http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/GeorgiePorgie/www

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"If the First Amendment means anything, it means that a state has no
business telling a man, sitting alone in his own house, what books he
may read or what films he may watch."  -- Justice Thurgood Marshall

Never let anyone try to tell you that you're not allowed to READ A STORY
because you're under some stupid arbitrary age that changes from country
to country, and year to year.  But if you're under the stupid arbitrary
age at the particular time and place you read this, keep quiet about it.

And never let anyone try to tell you that you're not allowed to READ A
STORY because some people currently in power in the place you live (no
matter if that's your country or your home) have decided THEY don't like
to read what YOU like to read.  But if they've 'banned' this story, then
keep quiet about it reading it.

The author does not condone abuse of any person, by any other person,
regardless of the ages, genders, heritage, or political or biological
relationships between any of the persons involved.  Abuse includes any
activity done without the willing participation of everyone directly
involved, unless done to prevent other abuse under this definition.
But it also includes using force or threats to interfere in, disrupt,
or prevent the activities of others NOT committing abuse under this
definition, by others who are NOT directly involved.  Any person guilty
of abuse under this definition should be arrested to prevent such abuse.

"There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book.  Books
are well written or badly written.  That is all."  -- Oscar Wilde

Fantasies are fantasies, and are not real life.  This story is a FANTASY
and if it involves abuse of anyone by anyone else, then nobody should
act that way in real life, nor tolerate anyone else acting that way in
real life.  But neither should anyone object, in real life, to anyone
else's FANTASIES, let alone try to justify real-life abuse because of
them.  In over 30 years of reading and writing stories like this, the
author has NEVER hurt any real person, nor tolerated anyone else doing
so.  Enjoying FANTASIES like this DOES NOT and NEED NOT not make anyone
a monster in real life, as long as they understand that real people are
not to be treated this way.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

This story is Copyrighted (C) by Georgie Porgie.  All rights reserved.
It may be FREELY reposted to any appropriate newsgroup providing all the
following conditions are met:

1. This header remains attached to the story unchanged.
2. The full disclaimers below remain unchanged.
3. The subject line is unchanged, allowing potential readers to decide
   to avoid the story if they wouldn't like it.
4. The story is posted unaltered, either by addition or deletion.

People who flood the newsgroup with a hundred stories, none of which
have story codes, are obnoxious morons wasting the time of everyone
reading the group, and providing nothing of value.  I don't want any
of my stories to be posted by obnoxious morons.

It may be FREELY archived on any appropriate web site providing all the
following conditions are met:

1. The web site links ONLY to: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/GeorgiePorgie/www
   rather than rudely BYPASSING all of the descriptions and disclaimers
   that would otherwise be required.
or
1. The web site provides FREE access to the story without restriction
   (including, but not limited to, 'registration' or charging a fee),
2. The link title includes enough description to allow readers to decide
   to avoid the story if they wouldn't like it, and
3. The reader is required to SEE, if not read, the full disclaimers and
   description prior to deciding whether to read the story, just like it
   is on http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/GeorgiePorgie/www
4. The story is archived unaltered, either by addition or deletion.

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                             Desk Thirteen

This fantasy involves twenty-four boys, age 7 to 16, and one girl, age
6, forced nakedness, fear and humiliation, with many more activities in
chapters not yet available.

                  Chapter 1: Christina Goes to School

An all-boys boarding school loses a lawsuit, but the real loser is the
winner's daughter.  The little girl arrives at her new boarding school,
and within minutes gets a taste of what her life will be like for many
many years.

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                             Desk Thirteen

                           by Georgie Porgie
                             25 April 1996


                  Chapter 1: Christina Goes to School

     Christina Rose Akin lived with her father after her mother died.
He didn't like children, and as a young lawyer who preferred the company
of ladies, he hated having a daughter underfoot all the time, taking up
his valuable time and interfering with his social life.  Several months
before her sixth birthday, he decided to send her to a boarding school.
When he heard of a previously all-boys boarding school, he couldn't pass
up the opportunity to make a name for himself as a lawyer.  He just had
to sue the school to get her admitted.

     She hadn't wanted to go to that school, but like most adults, and
especially lawyers, he had no respect whatsoever for what children want,
so her desires didn't count.  "It's a matter of principle," he had told
her.  "They have no right to keep you out of that school, so that's the
school you're going to go to, if I have to force them to let you in."

     He had won the lawsuit.  She remembered his smug smile as they left
court.  Her sixth birthday had been during the trial, but of course he
had been too busy with his work to have a party for her.

     The school consisted of a ranch in Montana with nothing but vast
wilderness for thirty miles in any direction, except a small rutted dirt
road.  The boys (amend that now: the students) were required to help
with the ranch chores.  The school limited students to 25, so there were
25 desks in the classroom, arranged in five rows of five desks.  All the
students lived in five bunkhouses, between the stables and the milking
shed, and each bunkhouse had five cots.  Except for the ranch manager's
home, none of the buildings had any plumbing.

     Christina's new classmates were all aged 7 to 16, and of course all
of them were boys.  Most of them had lived at the ranch for many years
without ever seeing a girl.  The older boys were sometimes allowed to
drive to town in their pick-up truck to buy supplies, but the younger
boys were kept on the ranch with essentially no recreation except what
they could make for themselves.

     The teacher was an old woman who drove out to the ranch to teach
the boys (the students) five days a week, because it was a living, even
though she could hardly tolerate the job.  She did as little as she had
to do, then left for home and put the place out of her mind.

     At the start of the school year, her father took Christina to the
school and left her, without even saying goodbye.  She stood there in
her pretty pink and white short knit dress, lacy white socks, and shiny
black leather shoes.  Her long brown hair hung nearly to her waist.  She
held her suitcases which her father had packed for her, with all of her
clothes and a few toys.  She had begged him to let her take her fluffy
kitty-cat doll, Mew, but that was the only doll she had.

     The ranch manager found her standing at the door wondering what she
was supposed to do.  He took one of her suitcases and told her to follow
him, and walked off without looking back.  She followed him to the third
bunkroom where he threw her luggage on the middle cot.  The cots were
cheap and crude metal frames, but strong and solidly welded together.
The head and foot of each cot formed a plain metal "H" with the crossbar
just below the height of the thin mattress.  The metal rods running the
length of the bed were welded to remnants of a wire fence, supporting
the mattress.  The four rough metal posts on the corners of each bed
were crudely sawed off, and left unpainted.  Most of them showed signs
of rust.

     The beds were of different sizes.  Christina's bed, the only unused
one, was the smallest.  The mattress exceeded the frame in size, and had
to bend to fit in, forming a hump in the middle.

     "Where are the pillows?" she asked.

     "No pillows," the manager answered gruffly.  "This ain't no hotel.
As for sheets, you'll get some after laundry day."

     Dismayed, Christina looked around at the rest of the bunkroom.  The
walls were unpainted boards, showing the outer shingles through large
cracks, with bare wall studs, and no inner boards or insulation.  A few
shelves had been nailed up between the studs, but they were all out of
her reach, let alone her view.  Four other cots surrounded her own, two
on each side, covered with rumpled sheets and blankets.  A thin wire ran
upward from a cheap light switch by the door, along a roof stud, and
hung down, suspending a bare light bulb as the room's only light source,
directly over her cot.  This was obviously not an establishment that
cared much about its image.

     With class due to start in ten minutes, the manager led her to the
classroom.  He told her to sit in a certain chair, and pointed to the
middle chair of the middle row.  Christina obediently sat, and began
drawing on the papers with the crayons on the desk before her.  Turning
abruptly, he left without another word, having more important things to
deal with.

     No matter how you numbered them, left to right, right to left, back
to front or front to back, Christina's desk, the very center, was always
Desk 13.

     She was sitting there quietly drawing when two boys about ten years
old entered the classroom.  They took one glance at her and their faces
lit up.  "Wow!  Are you the new student!?" one asked her.  She looked
over at them and silently nodded.

     "Youuu're prehhtty!" the other boy exclaimed, drawling out the
words for emphasis.

     Christina smiled shyly.  "Thank you," she replied, remembering her
manners.

     "Yeah, you have pretty hair!"  "And a pretty face!"  "And pretty
arms!"  "And pretty hands!"  The boys took turns praising her.  Christina
smiled and answered each compliment with a shy "thank you" to one or the
other of the boys, but she wanted to get back to her coloring.  One boy
walked around and stood on her left, the other stood on her right, and
both kept looking at her.

     "You have pretty legs!" one boy added, kneeling.

     Christina began to feel uneasy.

     "I like your dress, too," the other boy said.

     "Me too, we like your dress," the other boy confirmed.  "It's so
pretty, with the lace and everything, and besides, it's so short."

     "Oh!  Pretty panties!" said the boy on her left, while peering up
her dress.  Christina quickly held her legs together and pushed her dress
down with her hand.  She wasn't smiling any more.

     "Let me see too!" demanded the other boy, but Christina resisted
his pull on her arm, keeping her hand between her thighs.  "Come on, let
me see!" the boy insisted, pulling harder.  She tried to squirm out of
his grip.

     "We like your dress so much, we want to keep it," said the first
boy.  "Help me out," he asked the other boy.  They each took one of her
arms and by superior force easily twisted them away from her body.

     Christina began screaming and struggling, but it was no use, the
two ten-year-old boys were much stronger than one six-year-old girl
could ever be, and she couldn't free her arms. "Let me go!  Stop it!
Hey, stop it!!" she screamed, as the boys began sliding her dress up.

     They pulled her dress higher and higher, past her panties, past her
belly button, way up so her tiny pink titties showed.

     Just then another boy came in the room and saw what was happening.
Before Christina could call out for rescue, the new boy yelled "Hey, let
me help!" and rushed over, pushing her desk out of the way.  He grabbed
her wildly kicking legs and held on while the other boys held her hands
high, jerked her dress past her face, making her whimper, and tugged it
off her.

     "Stop it!  Stop it!  Let me go!" she begged, squirming wildly, as
the boys began slipping her panties down.  "Help!  Help me!!" Christina
screamed desperately when she felt her panties slide off her bottom and
past her pretty little pussy.

     The boys reacted in a most undesirable way to her screams.  They
laughed.  And they continued working her panties down, past her knees,
wrapped around her ankles by her lacy socks and shiny black shoes.  They
pulled her panties off her feet, and tossed them aside.

     "Stop it!  I'll tell!!  You'll get in trouble!" she threatened.
The boys snickered.  They didn't seem worried about that at all, as they
shoved her chair away and dropped her to the floor.  One boy held her
arms by her head as the other two boys held her legs spread wide apart.
Christina felt ashamed, knowing the boys could see her pussy.

     More boys came in the classroom door.  As soon as they heard
Christina's desperate screaming and pleading, and saw her naked titties
and pussy, they ran over and crowded around to watch, standing on the
desks or kneeling down to peer between the legs of the boys in front.

     Christina squirmed and twisted and kicked madly, but her slender
arms and legs were no match for the five boys now holding her spread out
on the floor between them.  More than a dozen grinning boys crowded all
around her, watching the nearly naked little girl squirm and struggle
desperately.  Two boys unbuckled her shoes and started removing her lacy
white ankle socks.  Not one of them made a move to help her.

     Poor helpless little Christina started crying.  This was going to be
a very long day for her.  And the next year was going to last forever.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

      This and other stories by Georgie Porgie can be found at:
                http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/GeorgiePorgie/www
-- 
 {Georgie Porgie} georgieporgie@fastmail.fm
 http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/GeorgiePorgie/www

-- 
http://www.fastmail.fm - Same, same, but different...

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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