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From: "wendy caulder" <she_cries@ftml.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Ariel: a Punk rock girl - The School Dance - Ch-7/7 (Mm/f, nc) by she   cries
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Date: Mon, 18 Apr 2005 07:10:02 -0400
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     Punk Rock Girl - The School Dance - Ch-7 (finale)
     Mm/f, nc, humil, exhib
     
     By She Cries
     she_cries@ftml.net.
     More of my stories at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/she_cries/www/
     -------------------------------------------------------

     
     Ch-7
     
     Walking through the gym now seemed very different than
before.  There were now easily four or five hundred people
inside.  The floodgates had finally burst, I gathered from a
conversation I overheard, and the staff finally admitted
defeat to the new policy and issued a general amnesty to all
the kids they'd busted, simply because they couldn't police
them all.
     Ironically, they also let all the kids they had busted
for alcohol, cigarettes, and other contraband were allowed
in.  The only ones barred were those who overtly violated
the dress code, such as girls with their bras showing and
slits up the side of their skirt ot the waist.
     The amnesty, and the throwing open of the doors meant
that there were now a number of teachers patrolling the gym,
our `chaperones' as it were, but the large numbers also
meant that I stood less chance of being detected.  This was
good for me, as I'd undoubtedly be sent home immediately.  A
fact that was attested to by the number of guys turning to
regard me as I passed through the crowd, and the number of
evil stares I got from girls more conservatively dressed.
They were wondering how I had gotten away with it, and I
wasn't going to bother to explain that it involved crawling
around in a G-string while a bunch of guys humiliated me,
then sucking off a freshman, eating his cum, then beating
the living shit out of him.
     The only reason I hadn't made a B-line for the exit,
now that I was free to split, was because I had to find
Alan.  Aside from being my ride home, which I could have
lived without, I felt the need to clear things up with him.
     The alcoholic haze wasn't doing much to help my hunt,
not with all the extra students crowding the place.  It was
mostly a distraction, not the drunk I'd felt before.  I had
to divert a few guys who wanted to dance (I guess looking
slutty worked even for skinny nerds like me).  I almost ran
right smack dab into Ronnie and Jerry, both hanging out on
the sidelines, watching girls.  Maybe they had given up on
me, I hoped.  I snuck away, and was about to slip out and
run to the foyer, abandoning Alan to his own problems (he'd
abandoned me, after all) when I ran smack into Mike, the guy
whose drink I had stolen for a douche.
     He turned to face me.  "Ariel."
     "Oh, uh, it's Mike right."
     He nodded, "Listen I-"
     "I'm sorry!" I interrupted.  We were both shouting at
each other, so close to the speaker stack we were standing,
"I shouldn't have stood you up like that."
     He acted surprised to hear that.  "Yeah, you should
have.  It's okay."
     I shook my head, thinking I'd misheard him.  He wasn't
making sense.
     I felt his hand snake around my arm, a gentle skin on
skin grasp and he leaned in close, talking straight in my
ear, "I was a shit, I didn't even look at you till after.
I'm surprised you didn't throw the drink in my face.  I'm
sorry."
     He pulled back a bit, to look at my face, "You look a
lot better." He shouted.
     That was when I realized the horror show I was when
he'd first encountered me.  He'd asked me to dance, then
noticed I was a wreck.  He put me on the spot while I was
running for the safety of the bathroom.
     I pulled him down so I could shout in his ear.  He
smelled nice, "It's okay, I feel a lot better now."  This
was true, in spite of being forced to blow Rusty and having
hairstyle a'la man-whites.  I wondered with a malicious
inner giggle if he could smell that.  If he thought it was
nice too?
     I shrugged at Mike, he had made an innocent mistake,
"Besides, it was dark."
     He turned to talk in my ear, and I felt his lips flick
them for a second, "Not that dark, I was just ogling your-
You, I mean."
     If this was his idea of an apology it had an uncanny
resemblance to a come on.  However, in spite of the
proximity of Ronnie and Jerry, I was actually enjoying it.
It made me feel like an innocent girl again, playing the
high school game.  The whole reason I'd come here in the
first place, to flirt, to show myself off, to make fun of
the squares.  Now here was a square hitting on me, but I had
to admit he was pretty unconventional.  I decided to see how
unconventional.
     "You mean you were ogling my boobs, right?" and I stood
back quick to see his reaction, conscious of the huge grin
on my face.
     Was that a blush?  But he grinned through it, "They
were leaping from under your shirt.  I was worried they'd
get away." He shouted, blinking, but laughing, and so was I.
"I notice you found a bra."
     I nodded, leaning in close.  My voice was too hoarse
for shouting, "I found a sympathetic friend in the
bathroom."
     He pulled back to look at me, then said, "So you're
telling me there's another girl walking around here without
a bra on?"
     I nodded.
     "And she's your size?"
     I leaned in, "A little bigger."
     He pulled away, making a big show of craning his neck
to look around the room, saying, "Well, Ariel, it's been
nice talking to you," he was obviously forcing himself not
to crack up, "But I've got to go find someone." He turned
back to me, and leaned in close.  There was that flick of
the lips again, and it sent tingles down my spine.  "It was
a girl, right?"
     We both started cracking up, and I pushed him away,
thumping him on the arms he held up to defend himself, only
stopping to flinch as my split knuckle flared up in pain
with the action.
     That stopped me cold.  Twenty minutes ago I'd been
sucking another guy off.  Fifteen minutes ago I beat the
living shit out of him.  Now I was flirting with this really
sweet guy, and I hadn't even found my date yet.
     Mike was as perceptive now as he'd been oblivious
before.  His hands fell to his sides and his entire body
seemed to close off, reacting to my own shut down and
crossed arms, "Okay, well..." he said, "I guess I'll see you
on Monday."
     I nodded, and watched as he started to turn away.  He
seemed reluctant to pull his eyes away.  As he did I lunged
out, my body acting without thinking.  I grabbed his hand,
hooked an arm around his neck and shouted into his ear, "You
still owe me a dance."
     The song wasn't over, but it was one of those semi-slow
pop numbers that some kids hopped to, and other could slow
dance to.  I dragged Mike into the heart of the crowd,
promising myself that I wouldn't do anything abysmally
stupid, and if someone tried to cut in I'd scream my head
off.
     We found ourselves in the thick of the dance floor as
the song ended, cuing yet another boy-band ballad.  I looked
up at Mike, and found myself biting my lip in anticipation.
I didn't know what to say any more, and he didn't seem to
think words were necessary.
     His hands cradled around me, gentle thumbs resting on
bare skin, but his fingers on the skirt.  Almost too low for
comfort  had I not been molested sixty ways since eight
o'clock.  I had to wonder if he wasn't actually being over-
sensitive.  Moving his hands low enough to avoid touching
too much skin.
     I laid my arms on his shoulder, and didn't have
anywhere to put my head but to lay it on his chest.  His
grip got tighter, though I wasn't sure if he was pulling me
closer or tensing up.  He certainly seemed involved, and I
was surprised to discover his hips actually swinging a bit
with the rhythm as we made the obligatory slow circles.
     I found myself matching his motions, and was not
displeased to discover his thumbs, those gentle subtle
contacts, gently rubbing the base of my spine, each going in
slow, circular movements, right in rhythm to the song.
Something in me just knew that he had no idea he was doing
it.  I could feel his jaw resting on my scalp, just a bit of
contact.
     I really hoped he couldn't smell Rusty up there.  Who
wants to date a girl that smells like spunk?  (It wasn't
until I was much older that I learned the answer to that
was:  every guy wants to date a girl that smells like spunk)
     But in his arms, to the malodorous ballad of four guys
harmonizing, I found myself drifting away.  I was more tired
than I could remember being, ever.  I just wanted to curl up
in Mike's arms, and I found myself doing just that, letting
him hold me up with tighter and tighter hands.  I was trying
not to rub off my make-up as I drifted away in his arms, but
rubbing my face against his chest I found it just wasn't
worth the effort.  What I really wanted was for the song to
go on forever.
     I never noticed the song winding up, and Mike gave me
no indication that he wanted to let me go.  But the eruption
of the boom-thump of the requisite alternative band of the
night, mocking rap and punk in one popular genre, not to
mention all the bouncing imbeciles around us shattered my
sphere of wonderful escape.  Fortunately, Mike, like me,
seemed to have an aversion to staying on the dance floor,
and promptly led me off.
     As we crossed off the dance floor I felt myself clawing
from the inside, something trying to get out.  All the
struggles and stupid mistakes, and asshole boys, and the
shit they'd made me eat.  Here was this great guy, sweeping
me off my feet, but I had all this fucking baggage thrust on
me, not to mention an actual date that I should have been
dancing with.  I really wanted to stick it out with Mike,
but I also didn't want him to wind up in confrontation with
Ronnie and his friends.  Mike was tall, but he was skinny,
and he didn't look like a fighter, much less a bully.  We
got past the crowd gawking at the dance floor, and Mike
turned to me, but I cut him off, pulling my face up to his
ear, deliberately leaning too close, so he could see what it
does to a person when your lips tickle their ear,
     "Mike, I can't stay here."
     He pulled away, watching me questioningly.
     I moved in again, this time at a normal distance,
"Mike, I came here with a guy." Not technically true, but it
really wasn't worth explaining.  I could tell he got the
point.  "I have to go find him."  I had to get out of that
gym, but I wasn't going to ditch Alan.  Something inside me
insisted on doing that much.
     
     I was a little disappointed that Mike was so
understanding.  Walking through the crowd again I realized
that I'd have preferred him to argue, or at least to push me
for something, though I didn't know what.  A date, maybe, or
just maybe wanting to know if Alan and I were a thing.
You'd think that after that dance he'd want to know if I was
taken.
     But he didn't, and I was staring at my date, sitting
alone at the edge of the cluster tables still devoid of
students.  Every table, however, had one empty punch cup, as
did Alan, slurping on a cup of the nasty stuff in his stupid
checkered shirt.  His tie was nowhere to be seen.
     I took a deep breath, glanced around the room for
roving football jerseys, and made my move.  The fact that I
hadn't seen a teacher worried me a bit.  This table was
about as close to the back of the gym as you could get,
which also meant it was the fastest route to the side door,
which had begun to fill me with apprehension every time I
saw it.  Furthermore, Alan, probably in a depressed funk
about being dragged away from his date by a bunch of jocks
was sitting in the darkest spot, half hidden by a bunch of
palm trees.  It had taken me forever to find him till I
started looking in the few secluded places left.  Still, I
reasoned, if it hid him, it would hide me, so long as the
jocks weren't still looking for me.
     I made my move.
     "Hey Alan."
     This far from the speakers we could talk without
shouting.
     Alan sat up straight, but didn't look up from his
punch.  "Ariel." He said flatly.
     I sat down across the table from him.  It was fairly
large, could seat six, but I could almost touch him if I
reached across and he met me in the middle, "I've been
looking all over for you."
     He glanced up, then back at his cup, "Took you long
enough."
     "I-" I had no idea how to explain it, "I'm sorry about
that."
     He looked up, hatred in his eyes, "Did you really make
that bet with them!?"
     I was shaken by the venom in his voice, "N-no!  Of
course I didn't!  What did they tell you?"
     Ice shot up and punch spilled everywhere as he crushed
the cup in his fist, "They said you agreed to fuck them if
you were wearing a thong."
     My own anger started to rise up, "And you believed
them!?"
     "Should I?" he spat back.
     My own hands had balled up into fists, "They dragged
your ass off the dance floor and you trust them?"
     He was glaring coldly, "I saw you dancing with that
guy."
     "Who?  Mike?"
     "The jock who broke us up!"
     My jaw fell open.  My hands went slack.  I recalled how
I had swooned in Ronnie's arms, on the verge of sexual
frenzy.  How my body had reacted to Ronnie suckling my neck,
how I'd ground myself against his cock, and how the flares
of pleasure had taken over me as Ronnie tugged at the G-
string.  How I'd almost been willing to go off with him,
just to settle his stupid bet.  Alan had watched the whole
thing.
     "They told me you were going to fuck them."
     "I was going to... have sex with you, Alan." I said
weakly.
     "Bullshit!" He hollered, hurling his cup at me and
standing up, but missing by a wide margin.  His seat went
flying away behind him.
     "Alan, I'm not like that!"  I saw pink drops staining
his perfect white pants in the flashing lights.  It was
humorous, in a distant, pathetic sort of way.
     "Oh, you're not?" He drilled me.
     "No!" I was getting indignant at Alan's behavior.  He
didn't own me.  This was our first fucking date.
     "Then what's this all about?" he smacked a picture down
in front of me.  It was me, standing up in my G-string and
boots, covering my tits with my hands, crying.  I couldn't
see the details for the lack of light, but I remembered it
well enough.  It was like I was still standing there.  I
felt very cold all of a sudden, this thing haunting me.  My
breathing got shallow, but I felt an icy grip of control
settle over me.
     "Alan, didn't you notice that I'm crying in this
picture?"
     "What?"
     I leaned forward and pulled the sputtering candle
burning in the center of the table closer.  As humiliating
as the picture was I had to show him the details.  "Look."
     He crossed over to my side of the table.  His hands
were shaking badly.  "I-I-  How?  What?"
     "Alan."  I said very calmly.  "This is the picture Mrs.
Dee took of every girl wearing a thong."
     "No."
     I glared up at him.
     "Really?"
     "Goodbye, Alan."
     "Wait, I- I didn't know!"
     Like I cared.  I didn't need a super-possessive date to
feel sorry for me, and he certainly hadn't earned any points
tonight to deserve my understanding.  "Well, see ya around,
Alan."  I couldn't believe that I'd ditched Mike for this.
     "Ariel, I'm sorry, I thought-"
     "You thought wrong." I cut him off.
     Finally taking the hint, Alan turned to leave.
     "Alan." I called back to him.
     He stopped, looking at me with this sad beam of hope in
his eyes, like I'd forgiven him.
     "Tell Wade he can come by any time."
     His face clouded over, and he was gone.
     I felt a momentary pang of regret for hurting him, but
he'd just driven a big fat stake into my chest, and he
really didn't deserve any less.  I reached across the table
for an empty cup, half full of melting ice and fished out a
cube, suckling on it for a second while I regarded the side
door.  There was no one around it.  No one at all in between
my table and that damned door.
     It was time for me to go.
     I crunched the ice loudly, its chill splintering
pleasantly between my teeth, and I dumped the rest of the
ice in my mouth, drinking down the pinky sugar tinted water
and chomping on the rest of the ice.  The side doors were
dark, menacing, foreboding, but I didn't have to use them.
I could walk right out the front entrance.
     I stood up to go.
     
     And was slammed right back down.
     By body reeling I was horrified to discover Jerry
pinning me down to the chair as he pulled a seat alongside
me.  Ronnie sat down next to me on the left, and Bones and
the other guy joined us at the table.
     I was so fucked.
     "Been wonderin where you got to, Ariel."
     "Let me go." I ordered Jerry, but that only got
Ronnie's iron grip planted on my other shoulder.
     "Still waiting for you to settle up, slut." Jerry
menaced in my ear.
     I was trembling with fear, "I ain't got nothing to
settle, Jerry!"
     Ronnie gripped my head and turned it to him, "You still
have to pass the second part of the bet."
     "I didn't take your bet, Ronnie!"
     "What's the second part of the test, Ron?" Jerry asked
him as if I hadn't said anything.
     "Have to see if she's wet." Ronnie said, loosening his
grip and starting to caress my neck, no doubt trying to
illicit the reaction he'd gotten from me an hour, several
drinks, a blow job, a fight, and an argument ago.  It didn't
work, and I tried to shake his hand off, but Jerry held me
pinned to the chair.
     "I like the new skirt, Blondie." Jerry had discovered
the slit, and I silently cursed Muffy, the slut as he stuck
his hand inside, grabbing my thigh as I scrambled vainly to
move away.
     "Come on, Ariel, just cooperate, and it'll all be over
with." Ronnie was pushing me.
     Bones decided to get a piece of me, "Hey, man, no one
likes to lose a bet, but we gotta buck up and face the music
when we do." He was talking pleasant, friendly.  I started
to realize why the cheerleaders had been so supportive of
the innocence of these guys' behavior.
     "Besides, if we lose, we gotta take care of you ass for
a whole year."
     I looked at the fourth jock, "What the fuck is your
name?"
     He looked insulted.  "It's Mitch."
     "Well, Mitch, why would I want you guys to take care of
me for a whole year."
     Ronnie took that one up, "We'll do everything for you.
Stick up for you if someone's giving you shit, get you out
of any jam you get into, stop the other kids from making fun
of your clothes, your hair, be an alibi if you want to ditch
school or something."
     Bones had more to add, "We can get you booze,
cigarettes, rides, even cash if you're hard up."
     As much as I couldn't care less about their offers, I
had to acknowledge that they were putting just about
everything they could on the line they could.  Basically
they were admitting me into the protection racket the
popular kids ran, only this was unconditional, meaning I
didn't have to put out to be in on the game.
     "And all you have to do is pass the next test."
     Unless you count fucking Ronnie and Jerry putting out.
     I didn't hear who said it, because I realized for the
first time since they'd re-captured me that I could now pass
the next test.  If I'd been able to tolerate giving Rusty a
lesson in finger sex, I could let one of these ogres get a
little feel.  I hadn't been remotely excited since kicking
the crap out of Rusty nearly an hour ago, and I'd mopped up
after that.  It didn't look like Ronnie was willing to admit
that he'd already seen to that part of the bet on his own.
     "Look," I said, grabbing Jerry's hand through my skirt
as it wandered up to my crotch.  "Wait." I looked at him.
"I said, wait!" I repeated when he didn't move.
     He glared at me, then pulled his hand out.  Good, I
thought.  I had some control.
     I looked around the table, then addressing them all
together I said, "Look, if I lose this bet I can't stop you
from dragging me out and finishing it.  What guarantee do I
have that you'll keep your end of the bargain?"
     "You calling us liars?" Mitch said, puffing up his not
inconsiderable chest.
     "Yes." I said calmly, though my body was trembling.
     I heard Jerry's voice croak, "I will personally beat
the shit out of anyone who doesn't live up to the bet."
     I looked him in the eye.  He looked dead serious.  I
turned to Ronnie, who had the same, direct look, "So will I.
No matter what happens, I won't let anyone back out."
     "Neither will I."
     I spun around, jumping at Bill's voice.  He was
standing with the other two jocks in the original line-up.
They were all there.  Christ, I couldn't do this with seven
guys standing around me.
     But they were nodding.  All deadly serious as if they
had something like honor on the line, instead of idiot
machismo.  I couldn't just throw it back in their faces.
Not that they'd let me.  Besides, I was terrified.  I was
cold from crunching ice.  I didn't think I could fight them
any more.  Not that I'd put up much fight before.
     "And no more pressure to put out.  No one harasses me
for sex."
     "That's part of the deal." Jerry stated, coldly,
bluntly, a matter of fact.
     "Okay." I said.  "Let's do this."
     But Ronnie had to settle things first.
     "So you agree you took the bet?"
     I was trembling, but I nodded.  I couldn't lose.
     "And if you're wet, you have to fuck us."
     "Just you and Jerry.  That was the bet."
     "But if you're wet enough for both of us to fuck you,
you have to do all of us."
     I had to grab my hand to stop it from shaking
violently.  Didn't any of them care how fucking freaked I
was.  I forced a nod.
     Jerry finished it, "And when you beg for more, you're
ours.  For the rest of the school year."
     I swallowed, my head shaking too much to nod any more.
     "Any time, any place, any way we want it." Jerry said.
     "Any way you want." I heard myself stammering.
     "Well, let's see." He said.
     I shook my head, not understanding.
     "Get up." Jerry ordered.
     I stumbled to my feet, almost tripping, and barely
catching myself on the table.  No one made a move to help.
     "Take off the skirt."
     "H-here?"
     Jerry shrugged.  "We could go down to the creek."
     I did as I was told, it was almost too hard to undo the
buckle, but I did it, and the skirt clattered to the floor
at my feet.
     "Take that other one off too." Jerry told me, and I had
to repeat the act, but the second belt was easier, and I
felt it clatter to my feet.  I don't know why I then reached
up and pulled off my shirt, but I felt the need to do
something without being told.
     I looked around at the boys.  I might as well have been
alone in that crowded gym the way they clustered around me,
a wall of muscle and football jerseys.  I was shivering
badly, just in a G-string, and all the boys regarded me, the
ones who had mocked me, humiliated me, told me I was ugly,
skinny, a whore, waited with intensity for the next step.
     "Take off those boots," Mitch ordered me, "You'll look
like a normal girl."
     They unzipped quickly. My last armor.  Gone.  I was
really vulnerable.  The cold gym floor.  Hundreds of people
mere yards away.  I felt so vulnerable, in spit eof the
seclusion.  No one can see you, I kept thinking.  No one but
seven of the most evil men on Earth.  They're the only ones
that can see your skin crawling with goose pimples because
the floor is cold and your feet are tender and bare.
     I looked at Mitch, perhaps hoping for some kind of
approval.  He just stared back at me, then looked me over.
I hooked my thumbs under the string and pulled it down.
Maybe that would make him smile.  I bumped the table with by
butt, staggering and barely stayed standing.  I stumbled as
I pushed the underwear over my toes.  I didn't feel sexy or
powerful any more.  I felt like a skinny runt.  Watching all
of them, watching me.
     "I told you she was a slut." Jerry said coldly.  "She
didn't even have to be told."
     "Just do it." I croaked out, my voice breaking up.  I
was having trouble breathing.
     Jerry did as he was told, but reached low, and slowly
tortuously dragged his hand up my inner thigh, leaving a
kind of heat that threatened to buckle me at the knees.
     "Get on the table." I let him push me back so I was
leaning against the table, and realized with horror that he
was spreading my legs, showing all seven of them my loins.
     Then his hand was there, and like a flame on ice I
melted, the hard crust shattering and I cried out, but it
came like a squeak.  My whole groin flamed up and bolts of
lightning shot through my body, sending spasms as I gasped
for more air to cry out some more.  I grabbed his hand and
pinned it there as he dug his fingers into the crevices of
my labia, but he pulled it back, and I felt it slipping out
of my grasp though I clung to him with all my might.
     My eyes snapped open as I felt it, and I saw glistening
in the candlelight my hand glittering with the taint of my
arousal.  I could feel my fingers sliding through my
dampened lips, even as the well of pleasure was replaced by
the magnanimity of what I'd done.
     "No!" I cried, trying to stand up, but my legs were too
weak, and hands reached out to hold me down.  "I can't be.
I can't be!" I cried again, bawling begging for them to let
me go, completely unable to stop them.  I wasn't this wet in
the car with Wade.  I wasn't this wet when I stripped off in
the bathroom.  I wasn't this wet when I came with Rusty.  I
couldn't possibly-
     Jerry grabbed my face, "So you're a virgin, right?"
     I nodded, "Please don't."
     "Let me," Ronnie said, "It's my bet."
     "Wait your turn," Jerry said.  He was going to take me,
right there on the table.
     "It's a mistake." I cried.  "I can't be this wet."
     Jerry didn't care, "The mistake was taking the bet.
You lost."
     I looked at him in horror.  I had taken the bet.  After
all my resistance I had been so confident, but my body
betrayed me, flooding my channels with juices and filling me
up with raging hormones, dying for the release I'd been
crushing down all night.
     Ronnie stopped Jerry as he moved in on me, "If she
can't take you we lose."
     Jerry looked at me and said, "She can take me."
     I stopped shaking my head.  I knew what was going to
come next and I knew what to do.  I couldn't think of any
force on earth that could stop him from breaking my hymen
and owning me like he owned Muffy, and I started thinking
about Wade.  Wade was going to take me.  Wade.  Just Wade.
     I heard a zip, and scooted back on the table, so I
wouldn't have to do it standing up.  I felt a hand on my
knee and spread my legs.
     "Dude, she's dying for it." I heard a voice, not
Jerry's say.
     He was right.  I was dying for it.  I had been dying
for it all night.  There wasn't any point in fighting it.
It was inevitable now.  It was give in and enjoy it, or be
raped, and hate it.  I didn't care if they thought I was a
slut.  I needed this, and if it had to be Jerry, it would be
Jerry.  Then Ronnie, then Bill, then Bones, the Mitch, then...
     But I tried not to think about that.  Wade.
     What was he waiting for?
     I looked up, and Bill was whispering into Jerry's ear.
He and Ronnie were arguing.  Stupid boys.  Didn't they
realize that they'd all get a turn?  I felt myself smiling
at the absurdity of them fighting over me when a week ago
they'd be fighting over who gets to spit in my hair at the
assembly.
     But still the arguing continued.  Bill actually pointed
at my crotch.
     "Would you just fucking do it!?" I hollered.
     Seven boys looked alarmed at me, and I decided to Hell
with it.  Jerry was closest, his cock was out, and I grabbed
him, pulling him close, "Don't back out on me now, Jerry." I
moaned at him.  I reached down and grabbed his cock, rigid
in anticipation for me, and I gasped again.  It was
enormous.
     I'd seen dicks on the internet that were bigger, but I
thought that was all photo tricks.  My fingers couldn't wrap
around the girth.  It was more than my hand's width on
either side of where my hand clutched him.  This thing was
going to kill me, I thought.  At least then I wouldn't have
to do all seven of them.
     "This what you want, slut?" Jerry demanded, his face a
wide, malicious grin.
     I bit my lip.  I did want it.  I didn't want to be
split in two, but I reasoned if I was this wet, and Muffy
could take him, then I could.  Anyway, I did want it.  That
was why Jerry got me so wet.  There could be no other
explanation,  "Yeah." I said.
     "You want to get fucked?" He taunted me, refusing to
come any closer.
     "Yeah." I cried.  I had no idea what sex would be like,
but if it bore any resemblance to what Wade had done to me
in the car it must be fantastic.  Once you got over the
initial pain, as Daria would have said.
     I started stroking the massive schlong in my fist.
There was going to be a lot of 'initial' to get over with.
     "You still want to get fucked?"
     He asked again.  What the fuck was wrong with this
dick?  He spent the whole night trying to get between my
legs and now that he was there all he cared about was being
right.
     "Yes, Jerry!  I still want to get fucked!"
     "By all of us?"
     I seized his shirt hard and yanked.  His cock slammed
against me and I cried out as I groaned, "By anyone who
fucking will, now do it you fucking lard-brained jock!"
     He shook his head, "It's your dime."
     And he did it.
     
     Forget about pleasure.  Forget about electrifying first
times, and pleasure mixed with pain, and all the stories
about how girls lose their virginity and there's a little
discomfort, or a bit of pain but they grow used to it.
     They never had Jerry take their virginity.
     The first conscious realization I had was a hand
clamped tightly over my mouth.  There were jocks all around
me looking around frantically.  Then I felt the pain.
     It was like someone had parked a Volkswagen in my cunt.
Oh, he'd gotten in, buried to the hilt, speared me
completely.  There was no air.  I had nothing to breathe
into.  My insides were boiling, fiery lines of side-
splitting pain lanced through me, and above me, hovering,
his eyes bugged out in horror was Jerry, shaking, his lip
glistening, a thick line of drool connecting us like a soul
weave attached to my throat.
     He belched out a mighty groan, his whole body
shuddering as surges and surges of pain splintered through
me.
     I was dying.  I was being torn to bits and Jerry was
cumming inside me.  My head was about to explode, and Jerry
was impregnating me.  Nothing on earth existed but me and
Jerry's cock, and the cock was winning.  It took everything
I had to keep from blacking out.  My teeth were sunk into
the hand that clamped my mouth and I was drinking blood.  I
still couldn't breathe.  I still couldn't do anything but
wait for Jerry.  Wait for him to stop killing me.
     Then from far away I saw his face moving.  A blur in a
white space, far, far off.  It was so warm and it got very
quiet.  I felt his hot breath before I heard the sounds, and
then as if they had had to burrow hundreds of miles they
penetrated through to me "let go." They whispered, as if
screamed from galaxies away.
     What little I could feel of my body told me I had to do
something.  Just figuring out what was difficult.  I was
retreating into a tiny hole, far away from the pain and the
shouting, far from penises and cunts, and stupid jock boys
and bimbo cheerleaders.
     Then it struck me.
     The message was for me.
     I thought about that for a minute, then the world came
flooding back.
     Shouting boys, thumping music, a painful cock jammed
all the way up inside me.  Blood in my mouth, tears in my
eyes, my body drenched with sweat, my arms and legs locked
tight around this mighty warrior who could not break free of
me, his face blood red from the agony he both inflicted and
shared.
     My body went weak.  I heard the command deep inside,
but I couldn't obey, and just went limp.  The creature
retreated, a blast of freezing air filling the void of my
sweating, saturated stomach, and a sudden blast, a painful
pressure, a tugging, pulling me down the table, and then,
like the biggest crap you've ever taken in your life he was
gone, and I cried out, a blast of pain rocketing through me
as I bucked upright.  A hand smacked hard onto my face and I
bit down, tears flooding from my face as I tried hard not to
grab myself where it hurt so much, and the music thumped,
thump thump thump, far away, the distant flashing lights.
     Jerry curled on the floor at my feet, between my legs,
underneath me, clutching his massive rod as semen pumped out
in little globs that made him cry out with each surging
burst.
     Numbness began to descend, the shock overwhelming me
and blissfully turning the fire in my crotch into a simple,
horribly painful ache.  I pushed the hand off my face and
saw the blood.  Gallons of it, it seemed, spread all over my
thighs and crotch.  Jerry's cock and hands were covered with
it, and I tasted it on my lips.
     Too much blood.  He must have torn me, split me in two.
I was bleeding to death.  I knew it.  I was dying and all
these boys just stood around watching Jerry moan in pain.
The big junior looked up at me, and very real fear sat in
his eyes.  Apparently my vice-like virgin cunt had been too
much even for his mighty member, and I had crushed it like a
mountain of ash, even as he came inside me, the pain had
been communal.  We had shared more than the simple act of
intercourse, and in that moment I felt a very real sympathy
for the poor, misguided fool, but that passed fast as my
insides twinged, a sharp cramp biting me in the gut.
     I felt my eyebrows crinkle.
     Looking down again I saw the blood, but it really
wasn't all that much.  Far too much to be my hymen.  I knew
some girls could bleed a lot, but there was a lot down
there.  I started ticking off days in my head and it struck
me.
     Bill had seen it, and he had pointed it out to Jerry,
which is why he was so surprised that I still wanted to fuck
him.
     My body had betrayed me after all, but not out of need
for sex, but because of bad timing on my part.  It was the
first of the month, and my cycles had begun.  I had won the
bet after all, though they probably wouldn't let me hold
them to it.
     "Give me my skirt." I croaked.
     I wanted to cover up the mess, having nothing handy to
wipe up with and no desire to do it here.  The boys were all
watching with horrified fascination.  Ronnie clutched his
fingers, blood staining making it obvious whose hand I had
been chewing on.  His blood didn't taste all that bad.
     I stood up, taking my skirt from Jerry's upheld hand,
and buckled it around me, glad to mask the stains.  I took
my shirt off the table and pulled it on.  I tried to avoid
getting blood on it, but ended up using it to get my hands
clean.  They had just watched me fuck Jerry to a fetal
position.  Who cared if they saw my tit through a bra for a
few minutes longer?
     I dragged my purse over from where it had been shoved
during sex, and pulled out the near empty pack of camels.
There was, somehow, one last cigarette left.  I stuck it in
my lips and lit it.
     I had to pause while I coughed.  Every hack sending
spasms of pain lancing through me like needles on my cervix.
     Jerry tried to stand up, but failed and collapsed on
the closest chair, he was still clutching himself, one hand
on his limp, bloody penis, another pressing into his gut,
where guys hurt when their balls are crushed.
     I took drag off my cigarette, sitting up higher.
     "What's the matter?" I asked Jerry, "Had enough
already?"  I blew a long, narrow line of smoke over him
while he glared up at me, unable or unwilling to attempt a
retort.
     I looked Ronnie standing next to me, then the cluster
of boys in front of me who'd just watched me get ripped in
two.
     "So," I asked, my voice dry and hoarse, "Who's next?"
     
                         The End
     
     
     

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