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Old 05-19-2008, 01:35 AM   #1
Night.Bane
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Default Cheerleader's Revenge (Ella Pt. 5) -- (M/F: Gangbang: Rp)

And we've made it to the end, the final chapter. I wanted to figure out a way for our favorite cheerleader to get a little revenge, Satisfaction as it were, but was stumped on how to do it. One day I was talking to a female friend of mine and asked her, "If you ever got into a really bad situation, what would you do?" She thought about it a minute before answering:

"I'd tell my brother."

THAT'S what prompted me to write this (for now) final chapter.

Feedback is always appreciated, btw.

PS - I had to break my promise to Ella. I hope she forgives me...

__________________________________________________ ______________



Ella finally gets a little Satisfaction.

CHEERLEADER'S REVENGE (M/F: Gangbang: Rp)


March 7th — Afternoon, Dr. Samuels’ Office

It was a typical psychiatrist office, conservatively decorated with comfortable chairs for the patient and doctor. Subdued lighting, ornate desk, hardbound texts in a tidy bookcase, and low sound of air pushing through the vent from above all combined to create a serene setting intended to put patient and psychiatrist at ease.

Ella Sanders sat in one of the chairs, hands resting in her lap. She kept idly running her right thumb back and forth over the back of her left hand, having just finished telling her story.

Peering intently at the young woman, Dr. Samuels asked, “How did that make you feel?” She waited patiently for the answer, absorbing Ella’s body language, the way her shoulders hunched slightly, and the way she constantly looked down.

Ella’s face wore a distant, troubled look; her mind was stuck in that moment of being bent over a chaise lounge, arms held down, the battering ram behind her relentlessly driving its length home, over and over. This story had been her secret, untold to anyone until now. Finally seeking professional help in a desperate attempt to overcome the dark feelings of dread and worthlessness that were a part of her day to day existence, she found herself here, sitting in this chair, sharing these damaging details of her personal life. It had taken her weeks to build up the courage to tell Dr. Samuels the full story. She still couldn’t believe—

“Ella?” Dr. Samuels gently prodded.

Ella’s eyes focused and her attention returned to the office and Dr. Samuels. Dr. Samuels was an older woman, in her late 50s, with a soft manner and understanding nature. Ella had interviewed almost a dozen psychiatrists before deciding on this one, determined to find a doctor she felt absolutely comfortable with. Dr. Samuels fit the bill perfectly.

Brushing a strand of soft brown hair behind her ear, Ella spoke again. “Well, devastated. I… she never liked me, only pretended to. I felt betrayed, strung along, you know?” she continued, with a pleading look. “What am I supposed to feel?”

Dr. Samuels leaned forward in her chair. “All of those feelings are natural, Ella. What they did to you—the way they planned it all out, it’s unspeakable.” She paused a moment before continuing. “And yet, you got out of the situation, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, I did,” Ella said with a certain pride. “I grabbed a towel and ran, kept running until my feet bled—and then ran some more.” She remembered it vividly, the towel wrapped around her waving in the wind as she dashed down the streets, bare feet pounding the pavement over and over. She was panting, breathing with her mouth open, running as fast as her taut legs could carry her. Finally she made it to a convenience store and phone…

“And you obviously moved on,” Dr. Samuels continued, “because you left Key Biscayne JC and went on to the University of Washington, where you graduated with a degree in marine biology. It’s perfectly understandable that you would seek to get as much distance as possible between yourself and that horrible situation. How did you feel about going to Washington?”

“Everybody was so nice,” Ella said, a small smile playing over her lips. “And I made some new friends there. Some real friends.” Her smile brightened.

“Yes, success! So, you got your degree, you have genuine friends. And you’re doing what you love,” Dr. Samuels finished, referring to Ella’s employment at SeaWorld Orlando.

Ella nodded.

Dr. Samuels fixed her gaze firmly on Ella. “You have to like yourself Ella—and forgive yourself, too. They raped you. They took something from you that you have to take back. You did nothing wrong.”

Ella felt it then, the way she sometimes did when the reality of what had happened hit her unexpectedly hard: the powerful urge to go wash her hands. It all felt so dirty, even now, nearly three years after the fact.

“You did nothing wrong,” Dr. Samuels repeated. “Please try to remember that.”

Dr. Samuels tried to lighten the mood. “Now, strictly as a friend, how do you feel about SeaWorld? It must be very exciting, working with the mammals! I was always so intrigued by the Orcas!

“Oh yes, it’s just amazing!” Ella said brightly, warming to this new line of conversation. “I always thought I’d like to be a dolphin, if I could be any animal...”



March 7th — Evening, Ella’s Apartment

After her visit with Dr. Samuels, Ella picked up some Subway and stopped by Barnacle’s Book Shack, a used bookstore two blocks from her condo. She perused the latest best sellers, found nothing she couldn’t live without, and finally decided to head home.

Of course, after she got home the first thing she did was check her email. Scanning the typical spam (“Viagra, cheap!” “Increase your size!” “International Monetary Transfer!”), one subject line caught her eye:

ATTN: All Key Biscayne Junior College Students, 2004 – 2006

Curious, Ella clicked it, began reading.

Key Biscayne Junior College is very pleased to announce the Engagement of John Boy Wiggins and Jenny Thompson. They will be joined in Holy Matrimony on April 12, 2008.

All Key Biscayne Junior College students from 2004 through 2006 are hereby invited to John Boy and Jenny’s ‘All-American pre-Wedding Bash,’ to take place April 5, 2008. This will be the Biggest Island Event Ever! Jack Thompson, father of the bride, is very proud to host this event at his home.

All festivities will begin at 6:00 PM. Click the link below for map and directions…


“No,” Ella whispered. “No, no, no… this can’t… can’t be…” she croaked, shaking her head.

They couldn’t do this, couldn’t just come barging back into her life, not now, not after she had finally summoned the courage to talk about what had happened. Not after she had finally broken down and shared all the sordid details with her psychiatrist.

It seemed almost as if she were being victimized again.

She wasn’t ready to think about John Boy and Jenny… Jenny… especially Jenny, if just didn’t seem fair…

Ella jumped up and hurried to the bathroom, reached into the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of Ambien.

She needed to sleep this off. She would have plenty of time to think about it tomorrow.



March 7th — Night

It was dark in the closet, not quite pitch-black. Her eyes gradually became accustomed to the lower light, enough to vaguely identify rough shapes. The somewhat muted sound of music flowed beneath the door, masking the efforts of Stone Moore adjusting himself behind her. Stone moved in closer, folding his long legs around her lower body. After he was finished, she felt his large hands close around her waist, squeezing softly.

She felt him leaning into her back, rubbing his fingers up and down her outer arms. There was a certain detachment; in her mind, she knew it was happening, but could almost believe it was someone else.

Almost.

Frustrated with her inability to see what he was doing, Ella closed her eyes and sighed. She had expected him to be rough, take what he wanted; she was surprised at the softness of his touch, at the way he smoothly positioned his body so that it cradled her own. He pressed up close to her, chest to back, and kissed her shoulders, her neck, and her ear. His fingertips playfully brushed the sides of her breasts, curled around them and then up, stroking the swell of her rounded bosom above the skimpy white tank top.

Suddenly she was no mere observer; he had broken through and caused her body to respond. ‘This feels so good,’ she thought, flushed, as she felt the heat rise within. ‘This is really nice…’

She felt the pressure beginning to build up in her head, at the tips of her nipples, and deep within her pulsating maidenhead. Her heart raced, pounding in her chest. She felt his hand pause directly over her heart and heard him chuckle softly.

“Your heart’s going a hundred miles an hour,” his deep voice whispered. She felt his breath hot on her neck and was thankful the light wasn’t on; she was blushing furiously and didn’t want him to see.

He casually reached one hand down, cupping a breast, and then did the same with the other. He was caressing, squeezing softly, tracing the outline of her hard nipples but never actually touching them, playing his fingers around the pronounced areolas.

Ella moaned softly, eyes still closed, a vaguely distant smile forming on her lips. She was buzzing, could see the Cliff’s Edge approaching. She was like a boulder, rolling downhill, picking up steam. Everything he did made the boulder roll faster…

He brought his thumb and index fingers to her nipples and pinched them, tugging and rolling the nipples around. Ella felt them harden, drew in a sharp breath. He reached down and pulled the tank top up, freeing her breasts. She felt them drop slightly before he cupped them anew. His hands were warm, confident as they clutched her full breasts; the feel them against her soft flesh was electrifying.

He paused a moment, holding her breasts in his hands, and Ella wondered what was coming next. ‘Maybe he’ll kiss me on the lips,’ she thought, barely able to concentrate. ‘Or maybe he’ll touch me… down there.’ That thought sent her into new depths of shame. Her upper chest felt so hot right now; surely he could feel it too!

“Hmmm, you’re really warm tonight,” he said, apparently reading her mind. “Should I play with these some more?” he asked, bouncing her breasts in his hands. Ella nodded, unable to resist his invitation. Stone chuckled. “Yeah, I like playing with big tits,” he whispered thickly, “been looking forward to this for a while.”

She felt his fingertips play over her areolas, brushing against the elongated nipples. He lowered his head, kissing her shoulder and then running a string of kisses along her neck. The Edge of the Cliff was so close she could almost see over it…

Gripped in anticipation, Ella felt as though she might pass out at any moment...

*

Eyes adjusted, she could see a little more now. She lay on her back, prone; Stone lay beside her, touching, exploring. Her breathing increased, became labored as she felt her chest tighten. The feel of Stone’s hands, softly massaging what the others had been so keen to take, the smooth caress of his lips kissing her shoulders and neck, lulled her into a deep state of arousal. She allowed herself to relax, felt his strength and warmth press against her, solid as a rock. It was almost as if she were in a dream.

He closed his mouth over her rigid nipple, sucked and twirled his tongue against it.

Fire. Ella gasped, unable to breath. She was so close. “Yes,” she whispered, “oh yes, please—“

Discomfort. The Cliff Edge raced away from her, far, far away, as if it had never existed. The buzzing was drowned out, replaced by a piercing pain emanating from her nipple.

“Is this what you want? Hmmm?” he asked as he pinched her other nipple.

She gasped again, gulped. “No! Please, no!”

Stone cruelly twisted and pinched one nipple while still sucking on the other, pleasure and pain, pain and pleasure.

“I think so. I’m giving you something to remember,” he added with a chuckle, ”something you’ll never forget.”

He climbed up between her legs. Ella suddenly realized she was naked from the waist down; she felt his cock rub against her thigh as it traveled up, searching. He was pushing her down, holding her in place.

He was so heavy.

“Here it comes,” he whispered, and Ella felt immediate pressure against her vagina.

“Get ready,“ a new voice said: Jenny. “Get ready, bitch.“

“What…” Ella mumbled, confused. ‘Where is she—‘

Stone forced himself down, his cock darting deep inside.

“Fuck this is tight,” he said, thrusting powerfully. “Fuck yeah.”

Ella gulped, raised her arms and tried to push him away. She rolled her eyes towards the door.

There she was. Jenny sat just inside the doorway, watching curiously in the half-light.

“Fuck her,” Jenny said, clapping her hands together quickly. “Fuck the little bitch.”

In response, Stone shoved again, forcing his cock all the way in. He exhaled forcefully. “It’s so fuckin’ hot in there,” he said as he pulled out and readied to thrust again.

“Slut knows what she’s good for,” Jenny commented, leaning forward.

“I’m… I’m not… not a slut…” Ella said, stuttering as Stone brutally punched his cock in again.

Jenny laughed.

Stone began pumping in earnest, withdrawing most of his length and slamming it back in.

“…not… not a… slut…” Ella repeated between thrusts.

“Trying to convince yourself?” Jenny asked, voice dripping with acid.

Ella felt an icy wave of humiliation wash over her body.

“Fuck that slut,” Jenny hissed, on her hands and knees and easing closer. “Fuck her!”

Ella felt a strange fullness welling in her brain, a sense of tremendous expectation.

Stone, sweat dripping from his brow, doubled his efforts. He penetrated her in rapid-fire, forcefully ripping his cock up inside her too-tight snatch.

Jenny leaned over, gazing down directly into Ella’s eyes. Stone labored above, his orgasm threatening any second. Jenny put her hands on each side of Ella’s head, held them there as she stared down.

“Say it with me,” she said quickly. “Say it: I’m a slut.”

Ella tried to shake her head, tried to ignore the frenzied fucking Stone was delivering, tried to deny the building pressure of what she knew (even though she had never had one) was her own cataclysmic orgasm.

“Say it,” Jenny said urgently: “I’m a slut.”

“I’m…” Ella said. “I’m…”

Tears rolled down her face.

Jenny continued staring down.

“Come on,” she whispered.

“I’m… a slut…”

As Ella said it, she felt the gush of hot cum erupt inside her, heard and felt Stone grunt as he cinched his cock all the way inside.

Jenny smiled, a strange, little smile.


*

Her eyes popped open. Ella found herself breathing heavily, sweating so that the bed sheets were plastered to her body.

She reached for her journal, ready to document this dream as she had so many others. Not that it ever did any good; she kept having them, over and over, so many dreams.

All of the dreams were different, and none of them ever quite matched the reality of what had happened. She knew that, even as she was having the dream—and that actually made it worse. For instance, had she been so turned on in the closet? Had she responded that way?

Had she asked for it?

Did she deserve it?

She was crying now. Tears, the dreams always ended in tears. She would have a nightmare, she would write it down, and then she would cry about it—and nothing would ever change.

“Not this time,” she whispered. “Not this fucking time.” She wiped the tears away, knew immediately what she had to do, what she should have done from the very beginning.

What she should have had the courage to do all along.

She called her big brother.

And told him everything.

*

Robert Lynn Sanders was something of a minor celebrity in tiny Malone, Florida. While in high school, Robert made all state in wrestling, baseball, football, and track and field, something that had never been done before. How a kid from nowhere could place in the decathlon at the US Nationals was the biggest shock of all—as a senior in high school, he finished third in the nation, with minimal seasoning. Sports Illustrated did a two-page story on the small-town country boy.

Big things were expected.

6’0 tall, 180 pounds, fair-skinned with brown hair and eyes, he was respected and well-liked, one of the genuine good guys. He had taken his talents to Florida State, where he focused on track and field and studied aeronautical engineering.

And all along the way, his little sister followed him; she was shy, quiet, but steadfastly his biggest fan. He remembered Pee Wee football, scoring touchdowns and seeing little Ella screaming in the stands. She was there when he wrestled, when he played baseball. No matter what he did, she was there, cheering him on.

She had always been there.

So that morning, when the phone rang and he saw who was calling, he immediately picked it up.

It didn’t take long for him to realize something was wrong. Ella was distraught; she obviously wanted to tell him something, but just as obviously was having a difficult time talking about it.

“Ella, what’s wrong?”

“Bobby, I can’t… I should have called you first…”

Robert gripped the receiver tightly between his fingers. Ella had called; she was upset—very upset—and Robert didn’t like it when Ella was upset. She was his little sister; he was the big brother, three years ahead. It was his job to take care of her.

Finally, he got her talking…

*

After Ella finished the story, sparing few details, Robert found himself shaking in fury as he held the phone to his ear.

It was a time to kill, if ever there was one. But Ella didn’t want that, she didn’t want him to get in trouble for taking care of her, for trying to fix what had happened. She just wanted to talk about it, to try and find a way to deal with it, get over it.

‘Fuck dealing,’ Robert thought, ‘we have to get some satisfaction.’

‘We’ because he was in it now; ‘we’ because he couldn’t allow this to pass; ‘we’ because it was his job to take care of Ella—‘we’ because now it was personal, and there was a price to pay.

And it was his job to extract payment.

“Ella, it’s very simple. We’re gonna get some Satisfaction.” His voice was strong, sure, a chilling voice that would have scared any reasonable man. Or woman.

“Ok,” she replied, sniffling

“This is what we are going to do,” he said, a plan coming quickly together. He knew it would work. “I’m flying in tomorrow and driving down—“

“You don’t have that much time, Bobby!”

“—and I’m gonna talk to some people. I have plenty of time, six weeks to blow however I want. They want a party to remember, huh? We’ll give them one. We’ll give ‘em a fuckin’ party.”

Ella heard the sound of typing through her phone. Robert was making Internet flight reservations.

“I’ve got a ticket for 2:00 o’clock this afternoon. I’ll be getting in to the airport at 4:12…”



April 4th – Afternoon, Dr. Samuel’s Office

Ella sat in her usual chair in the usual way, hands in lap, but something was different today, had been for weeks now: the way she looked up more, the way she smiled, the way she just seemed… happier, more comfortable in her own skin.

Dr. Samuels couldn’t help but notice, and had to comment.

“You seem chipper today. And I like the new haircut, the short look is really nice on you.”

Ella nodded. “Thanks. Actually, I’ve been feeling a little better lately.”

“Good! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was the last month or so. Do you think talking about what happened made it any easier—“

Ella laughed—actually laughed!—at the suggestion.

“No, Dr. Samuels, I don’t think that was it. Well, not exactly.”

Dr. Samuels said nothing, just sat watching. Waiting. Most patients, if you waited long enough, started talking on their own, they almost did the work for you. Ella was no different.

“The day I told you what happened, when I got home, I had an email. It seems two of the folks involved in what happened to me are getting married. At first, I was shocked,” Ella said evenly, her voice becoming more confident as she spoke, “but, after a night’s sleep, I woke up and started thinking about it, and came to a realization. Since then I’ve been doing a little better.”

“Good, very good. Moving on is a good thing.”

Ella peered at Dr. Samuels and smiled. “Yes, I suppose that’s it. Maybe I haven’t moved on yet—but I will be, soon. I think I can get a certain, ah, Satisfaction, out of all this.” She liked the sound of that word, had ever since her brother had used it a month ago. She still remembered it, the realization after she hung up the phone that, for the first time in a long time (longer than she could remember) she was actually looking forward to something.

“Yes, well satisfaction can be a very powerful feeling.”

Ella nodded agreement.

“And yet you tell me you are still having the dreams.”

This wiped the smile from Ella’s face. Yes, the dreams—nightmares—continued, albeit less frequently. She was down to one a week, although they seemed to be getting progressively worse. Last night, for example, she had the worst one yet…

*

The smell of mown grass clung to the air. The sun shone down through a cloudless sky, showcasing the immaculately manicured lawn, the brilliant rose bushes, and the cast figurines.

Jenny’s backyard was a veritable garden of delight.

Ella, clad in a skimpy pink bikini, strolled towards the pool, noting with approval how quiet everything was. The only sound she heard was the pool pump, gently humming merrily along. Even the birds seemed to have vanished.

She might have been the last person on Earth.

She took a seat on the pool steps and reached over to actuate the Jacuzzi jets. Powered, they began churning and foaming away.

‘Ah,’ she thought, ‘this is the life.’ She reached out and positioned the jet, aiming it squarely between her thighs. There were so many bubbles and the pulses of water were so warm, she figured she might as well enjoy them.

Ella leaned back, stretching out her arms on the top step and laying her head back on the pool’s edge. A tingling sensation began in her groin, small yet urgent. She licked her lips—

—and was interrupted by powerful hands, grabbing her arms and lifting her effortlessly out of the pool. Startled, she opened her eyes and saw Stu and Ricky holding her arms, with Dave, Roscoe, and Stone standing right behind.

Stone: “Busy?”

“Don’t, please—“

“Save the sob story.”

“—you don’t understand—“

“Shut the fuck up!”

“—I was just—“

“Roscoe, shut this bitch up!”

“—trying to get—“

A huge hand closed over her mouth, silencing any further attempts to talk.

“Now, bring her over here and put her on the grass.”

Stu and Ricky let go so that Roscoe could carry her over. He held her like a sack of potatoes, pulling her to him with one hand around her waist while clamping his other over her mouth.

“It’s my turn now,” Stu said, staring daggers. “Gon’ fuck this bitch up.”

“Eennh. Wrong answer,” interrupted Ricky.

They turned on each other, both ready to fight for the prize.

“Now, now, you’ll both get your turns,” Stone interjected. “We’ll flip for it. But first, let’s get her down on the grass and spread out…”

*

Two minutes later, Ricky had won the toss. He stood naked over Ella, long cock at attention, looking down. She was spread-eagled, with Stone and Roscoe on her legs and Stu and Dave on her arms, still wearing the little pink bikini. She resisted, thrashing and twisting and turning, all for nothing.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

She wanted to scream, to shout at the top of her lungs, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. This was their game; she was just a plaything, along for the ride.

She stopped squirming.

“Good, bitch knows her place,” Ricky said as he lowered himself to the ground. He climbed atop her, pulling the bikini cups down to expose her substantial breasts, the wide dark areolas capped by protruding nipples.

“Fuckin’ cow tits,” he commented. The others laughed.

“Fuck her up,” Stu said, obviously itching to get a piece for himself.

“Getting there,” Ricky said, staring at her trembling breasts. Holding his weight on one arm, he reached down with the other and pulled the string on her bikini bottoms; untied, he quickly snatched away the thin material.

He returned his attention to her chest, lowered his head and began sucking, flicking a nipple with his tongue. They hardened in response; Ella groaned, mortified, and bit her lip in frustration.

“Yeah, get mad bitch. Get mad!” Ricky said, noting with satisfaction the way she grimaced. “We ain’t fuckin’ around this time.”

Impatient, he slid up between her thighs while angling his lower body, thrusting quickly. A second, deeper thrust and he was almost there, his cock jammed halfway inside. He rocked a little, plunging and withdrawing, working his tool to full penetration.

Ella flung her head from side to side, looking for a weak link between Roscoe or Dave, Stu or Stone. Of course, there was none. She found herself staring at Stu…

“She’s giving me the evil eye,” Stu said with a laugh.

Ella turned her head away.

“Ungh. UNGH!” Ricky grunted, ripping up inside.

It happened so fast. Ricky dropped down, lay on top of her and wrapped his hands around her immense breasts, squeezed them tightly while gripping the nipples between his fingers. “Yes,” he said, pounding his cock relentlessly.

Ricky arched his back, planted himself all the way inside and stopped. His cock throbbed, issuing its intense load in rhythmic pulses.

Ella, powerless to do anything but take it, just lay on her back, staring up at the muscular body straining above. She felt his cock inside her, felt the discharge; she knew it would be seeping out when he withdrew.

She had been through this before.

“Shit,” he whispered, “I came so fuckin’ hard.”

Ricky had taken less than two minutes.

*

“Throw her in the pool, I don’t want his sloppy seconds!” Stu said, hauling Ella up as he stood. The others quickly followed suit, standing and dragging Ella up and over to the pool. They unceremoniously threw her in the water, watched her fumble around and come back up. They watched, amused, as she rearranged her bikini top and pulled the hair back out of her face.

Stu jumped in the water and carved a path towards her. She took a step back.

“Stop! You ain’t goin’ nowhere. Now, we can do this my way, or we can do this MY WAY. Play ball and it’s all gonna be fine; don’t, and it’s probably gonna get ugly.”

They stood in the water, facing each other for a full minute, before Ella’s shoulders hunched ever so slightly, before her chin dipped ever so subtly.

Stu grinned and took a step her way.

“That’s it. Now, come on over and wrap those legs around me.”

What could she do? She couldn’t run—but she wouldn’t help, either. ‘He’ll have to do it,’ she thought, standing still. ‘I won’t resist and I won’t run, but I won’t help him rape me.’

Stu, standing in front of Ella, reached out and put his hands under her arms, lifting her effortlessly in the water. He pulled her to him, dropped an arm to part her thighs and ease them around his lower body.

Stu gazed down, taking in the impressive swell of her breasts. He grinned evilly.

“This has to go,” he said, reaching over and grabbing the thin pink bikini top in his hand. He yanked forcefully, felt the top give as he pulled it away. “That’s better,” he commented, peering intently at the dark-tipped breasts floating buoyantly in the water.

Dread filled her mind as he tugged away the bikini top. She felt unclean, with one man’s ejaculate seeping from her body while another man prepared to put more in. ‘This can’t be happening,’ she thought, ‘please, not again.’

She felt a sudden stabbing sensation: his stiff manhood rooting around, eagerly searching. Ella remembered this cock, the one she had sucked in the closet so long ago; the cock that had so rudely flooded her mouth with salty sperm that dribbled over her lips and down her chin. Now it was twitching between her thighs, wanting something more than her mouth. She felt his hand reaching down, guiding it up.

“Bingo,” he said as he found it, thrust upwards and sheathed his cock inside her hole. “Fuck this is tight.” Leering, he added, “Just like Stone said. Shame I had to wait so fuckin’ long.”

Ella didn’t know what to do. She looked around; Ricky, Roscoe, and Dave sat on the pool’s edge, dangling their feet in the water, and watching the scene unfold. Ricky smirked, seemingly amused; Roscoe had a hungry look, ready for his turn; Dave watched, face impassive, but the bulge in his swim trunks was unmistakable. He wanted some, too.

She turned back to Stu, felt him slide his cock back and forth inside her, quick-fucking in short strokes.

He grinned at her, looked over her shoulder.

“Stone.”

Ella felt the hands on her shoulders as Stone sidled up behind her.

“Mind?” he asked Stu, as if Ella weren’t there.

“Not at all, bro.”

“No, not like this,” she said; she tried to be forceful, to regain some measure of control over the situation (as impossible as it seemed), but her voice was barely audible. “Please…”

“Sweet. Time to take that ass.”

“No,” she said more forcefully; pressure on her anus caught her immediate attention. “NO!” She screamed it this time, threw her arms up and tried to push away.

It didn’t matter.

“Enough,” Stone said, taking her hips in hand. His feet touched Stu’s as he sought leverage, leaned down and then back up, trying to find just the right approach.

“Sorry, bro,” he muttered as his cock drove against Stu’s.

“No problem,” Stu said, hands on Ella’s shoulders as he held her still for Stone. “Get it up in there, fuck that ass.”

*

She had never been this full, not even when Roscoe had his horse cock shoved all the way inside her. Unbearable pressure, like a massive shit, in her ass was counterbalanced by full infiltration of her vagina. The two of them held her there, perfectly still, alternately flexing their cocks inside her.

“Yeah, baby,” Stone whispered. “How does it go? ‘You ain’t gonna shit right for a month?’”

Stu laughed forcefully in her face.

“Ok, I’m gonna start first, get that ass nice and lubed up, then we can start see-sawing,” Stone said. Stu nodded agreement.

Ella felt the massive cock in her ass begin moving; her anus was decidedly uncomfortable, it felt like she was being split in half. She thought she could feel one cock, as it slid back and forth, rubbing against the other through the thin membrane separating the two.

“Please stop,” she whispered again.

It didn’t matter.

Stu started moving then, in counterstroke to Stone. It was as if they had rehearsed it, done this a thousand times. Stone would drive his length all the way home while Stu pulled back; as Stu plowed in, Stone would lurch back, get ready to lunge back up in again. Over and over they did this, ripping Ella’s colon and cunt raw.

“That’s it bitch,” Stone said, hammering it home. “Take it.”

Stu was quiet, only grunting in time with each thrust.

Ella felt like they were jacking off with her body, masturbating themselves simultaneously into her holes.

Stone reached around, put his hands under her breasts and pushed them up out of the water. “Always had big fuckin’ titties,” he commented, the heft of them filling his hands. “God damn these fuckers are huge.”

“Hell yeah,” Stu said, “fuckin’ cow tits. Mmmooooooo!”

They both laughed, joined in by the spectators. Ella felt the shame and humiliation wash over her, the heat burning her shoulders and neck. She could barely breath, pulling in air in great gasps and sobs.

Stone ran his hands up, around and above the swell of her breasts and took hold, pulling her down. He was using them for control, pulling her body down in opposition to his thrusting pelvis.

Stu reached out, seized both nipples and mashed them forcefully between his thumb and forefingers.

‘Stop,’ Ella thought to herself; her nipples couldn’t take this punishment. Stu was pulling them, they didn’t go that far, they were attached to her breasts and couldn’t reach—

“Ggaaiillllrrrrr,” she grunted.

It didn’t matter.

Stu and Stone looked at each other a moment and nodded, reaching an unspoken agreement.

“Whatever it takes,” Stone said. “I’m ‘bout to pop right now.”

Stu again just nodded.

“Stu and I always talked about this,” Stone whispered urgently in her ear. “Never thought we’d get to do it.” He started pumping faster, pressing, needy. “Oh yeah, let’s fuckin’ DO this.”

“Fuck yeah,” Stu hissed. He looked up, grabbed Ella by the shoulders and slammed his cock up. “FUCK!” he cried out, shuddering.

She felt it then, the surge of semen into both holes, the sense of terrible fullness aggravated by twin loads of searing jism flooding deep inside her.

She was… a receptacle, nothing more: a place for dicks to settle in for a time, a place where cocks came to unload.

A place where she just... didn’t... matter...

*

Stu and Stone pulled away, going underwater and swimming out to the deep end. Ella put her hands over her eyes; her body shook as she fought back the tears. Finally, she summoned enough courage to head towards the steps.

Roscoe.

Roscoe sat, blocking her exit, one arm to the side. She looked down and saw what looked like a large purple knob suspended above the water’s surface.

‘Oh my fucking God,’ she thought, ‘that can’t be…’

Roscoe grinned. “Hey Ella, remember? We had us a good time, huh?”

Ella faltered, tripped over her own foot. If she had been on land, she would have fallen face first, but here in the water she was able to collect herself.

Roscoe’s face suddenly went stern. “I like you. Now, come here,” he said, punctuating his words with wicked flicks of his cock.

A Mexican standoff: Roscoe sitting comfortably, obviously expecting her to come over and pay a little lip service; Ella stooped low in the water, her breasts floating up under her chin, just as obviously not ready to move an inch from her current position.

Ella felt eyes boring into her back. She turned and saw Stu and Stone in the deep end blandly staring her way. Dave was walking towards the house, flipping an empty beer can back and forth between his hands. The house: upstairs, the second floor window…

Jenny. She had the window open—the same window Stone had been watching from, back on the day Dave had taken her in this very yard—and leaned on the frame casually. She didn’t say anything, just sat there watching.

Eventually, someone had to break the silence.


“Hey bitch, get your ass over there,” Ella heard from way up high. It was Jenny who had finally spoken. “He ain’t got all day.”

Derisive laughter filled the air as they all piled on, laughing and joking at Ella’s expense. She felt the thick discharge oozing from her cunt and ass.

What was another hole, plus or minus?

Broken, she slowly moved towards the steps, crying for the first time all day.

*

“That’s it, go on over. Sluts like you are all the same. At least you know your place,” Jenny added sarcastically, “numb, dumb, and full of cum.”

Ella heard more laughter; felt more stares; knew lower depths of shame and humiliation.

She finally got to the steps. Roscoe sat, his cock hovering angrily just above the waters surface, a purple-headed cobra ready to strike. Ella went to her knees on the steps, moving in closer. Smiling, Roscoe reached out his arm, put his hand firmly on top of her head and pulled forward while pushing down.

“Heard you suck a mean dick,” he said thickly, squeezing her head between his fingers. His cock waved stubbornly in her face.

Ella glanced up quickly before shutting her eyes.

‘Say it with me,’ the voice whispered in her head.

She closed her lips around the bulbous head. A burst of pre-cum filled her mouth.

‘Say it,’ the voice urged again, ‘I’m a slut.’

“I’m…” Ella mumbled around the cock. Water splashed her face.

“What?” Roscoe asked, pushing her face down.

Ella felt the veiny, rigid cock sliding between her lips.

‘I’m a slut,’ the voice said, ‘say it.’

“…slut…” she managed around the cock, her mouth full of hot pulsating fuckmeat. The indignity of Roscoe’s cock imbedded in her throat was inescapable. His hand moved her head up and down, pausing at the bottom but not at the top, where he immediately shoved her face down again.

Basically, Roscoe was masturbating with her face.

Sticky pre-cum spurted sporadically in her mouth; she felt his hand more insistent, moving her face inexorably up and down.

‘Hurry,’ the voice whispered, ‘he’s about to cum.’

Ella stopped at the top and rolled her eyes up, staring into Roscoe’s.

“I’m… a… sl-sl-slut…” Stark shame, on a level she had never known, washed over her when she said those three words. “I’m a slut,” she repeated, as she opened her mouth and willingly took in nearly all of Roscoe’s thick meaty cock.

He erupted almost instantly, forceful jets of hot semen flooding her mouth and bulging her cheeks. His hand closed on the back of her head, held it firmly in place as his relentless outburst continued.

His cock continued twitching for some time.

*

Finished, Roscoe crawled off of the steps and out of the pool, arranging his swim trunks as he walked away.

Drained, Ella sat on the steps, the bitter taste of semen fresh in her mouth. She heard wet feet on the pavement and looked up.

Dave was striding purposely in her direction, a menacing look plastered on his face.

Ella had a feeling this wasn’t going to go well…


*

A single tear trickled down Ella’s cheek. Dr. Samuels leaned forward in her seat.

“What is it? What are you thinking of, right at this moment? What happened in the dream?” It was more questions than Dr. Samuels had ever thrown at a patient at one time. She sensed something, wanted desperately to explore the emptiness that had so unexpectedly taken over Ella’s demeanor. Ella had smiled, even laughed, only minutes before, but now she was withdrawn and subdued.

Ella brushed the tear away. “I’m… I’m fine…” she muttered unconvincingly. She looked up, tried to gather herself. ‘Tomorrow. I can make it until tomorrow.’ She spoke again, “Really, I’m ok.”

“Are you sure? I can cancel my next appointment, Ella. This could be very important—“

“Nonsense. I’m going to be just fine.” She thought of the next day, of the big pre-wedding bash. She managed another small smile, but this one was different. It was grim, determined. She had some unfinished business to attend to, some wrongs to make right. She was due for a little retribution. ‘Tomorrow I’ll be a-fucking-okay.’

She hoped she was right.

She couldn’t take many more of these nightmares…


(Conclusion to follow)
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Old 05-19-2008, 01:37 AM   #2
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Default Conclusion to Cheerleader's Revenge

(Conclusion)

April 5th — 2:00 PM, Jenny’s Home

Jenny Thompson was sure she had never seen a more festively decorated home. Balloons, streamers, and platters of food all stood ready for the hundred or so expected guests.

Certainly, her home had never been this bright.

She went over the schedule of events in her mind, one last time: guests would probably start showing up within the next hour with most arriving by 6:00 o’clock, some light partying (couple kegs at the ready plus many other libations) until 8:00, a few words by the father of the bride, a few more words by the mother of the groom, a tribute by friends (who knew how that would go? Stone and Anna had steadfastly refused to let her coordinate the tribute, but they promised to keep it clean) of both bride and groom, quick thank you’s from Jenny and John Boy, and then just wicked partying until everybody passed out.

That was the plan, and it seemed like a good one.

Jenny went over the supplies and decorations a final time before putting on her makeup and getting ready for the party.

The fun was about to begin…

*

Two and a half hours later, a dozen people had already shown up. Anna and the girls were in place shortly after 2:00, to help Jenny welcome everyone and make sure the ‘help’ was doing their duties. The ‘help’ was a handful of workers from the catering company who were dressed in serving outfits and charged with maintaining the food, drinks, and decorations. Their primary purpose was to ensure that everything was just right, all the time.

All the prep work done, all her girls and the help in place, Jenny could finally just relax and breathe. She manned the door, radiant in a simple but elegant white flower-print summer dress.

The thin dress was very complimentary; it clung to her body in all the right places, tight and low enough to be slightly daring, loose and high enough to discourage gawking. Jenny eschewed both bra and panties, preferring instead the soft breeze that played between her thighs and under her arms. Her long blonde hair curled around her shoulders, framing an unlined face glowing brilliantly around sky blue eyes. She was a picture out of Cosmopolitan, stunning girl-next-door beauty with an undeniable figure and dazzling smile.

Jenny looked very, very good tonight.

*

Everything was phenomenal, the people, the food, the music, all of it better than Jenny would have ever imagined. Early on, they had to call the catering company and order more food; almost 100 guests arrived by 6:00 o’clock and folks were still streaming in, more than they expected, but thankfully they had a backup plan.

She took another big swig of beer.

“Great party,” a voice said in her ear.

Jenny turned on her future husband and smiled.

“Hell yeah,” she replied, putting down her drink and throwing her arms around his neck.


It seemed like every room in the house was full of talking and laughing. As fast as empty bottles and cleared plates were laid down, one of the catering crew would pick them up, trying their best to keep the place clean.

One of the crew was a smaller girl, about 5’2, with short black hair and ordinary brown eyes. Her headgear was pulled low and she kept her head down everywhere she went. She didn’t want to draw any attention to herself—not here, not tonight. Ella Sanders, catering crewmember, was painfully aware of the potential consequences should anyone recognize her. Not that she expected them to. She had strapped her big breasts down, hiding them the best she could. Her freshly cut short hair was now jet-black, a look she didn’t expect to draw any particular attention. Brown contacts concealed her radiant sea green eyes. Extensive tanning sessions the last month left her skin considerably darker than it was back in the days she had been a student at Key Biscayne Junior College. Every part of her disguise was carefully considered; at a glance, she might have been a random Latina working for the catering company, you would have to look very closely to think otherwise. Robert approved the disguise, and here she was.

Of course, she had to be here. After Robert laid out the plan for her, after she felt the surge in her chest, the quickening of her pulse as he described in detail what he was going to do, she KNEW she had to be there to see it through. She stood ready to provide any needed assistance, but all Robert wanted was her presence, for her to be there to see it unfold, to know that it wasn’t over, not yet.

It was far from fucking over.

Robert Sanders was there as well. He was, for all intents and purposes, a guest. A social butterfly, he flowed from conversation to conversation with ease, rubbing elbows and glad-handing like a politician. There were so many guests in attendance that casual acquaintances were fairly common. Naturally, Robert knew all of the principals involved: Jack Thompson, John Boy, Stone, Stu, Ricky, Roscoe, and Dave, among others, as well as Jenny, Anna, Audrey, Maggie, and the rest of the cheerleaders. He knew them all by name, talked about the wedding, the planning, and the honeymoon, all of it. He schmoozed them like old friends he had known for years. He had gone to pains to ingratiate himself with them—

All according to plan.

*

After following her around awhile, Robert was finally able to pin Jenny alone. He moved in quickly. Smiling, he tilted his drink and said, “Congratulations! You two are going to be great together!”

Jenny smiled warmly and tilted hers in turn. “Thank you so much! Having a good time?”

Robert took a sip, nodded. “Oh yes, I think this party is going to get pretty lively tonight.”

Jenny laughed. “I think so, too. I can’t believe how many people showed up! I don’t know them all, but of course they all know me,” she said, taking a drink. When she spoke, her words ran together slightly—not quite slurred, not quite drunk, but definitely buzzing in a big way.

“Of course, you’re very popular. By the way, you look stunning tonight,” Robert said, and it was the truth. His eyes dropped, pausing at her barely discernible nipples, then roamed further down to her hips, noting with approval the way her dress hugged and accentuated their curves. He brought his gaze back up to Jenny’s bright blue eyes and smiled wistfully. “Would’ve been a beautiful bride,” he muttered in a strange mixture of admiration and contempt. She was just about the hottest—and cruelest—thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Jenny didn’t hear the last, so when Robert opened his arms to give her a hug she obliged. She had given and received plenty of hugs tonight.

“He wants you to meet him out back,” Robert whispered in her ear.

“What?” Jenny asked. Robert held her close, one hand on the curve of her lower back, pressing her firm breasts into his chest.

“John Boy, he wants to meet you out back in five minutes. Said it was urgent.”

Jenny pulled away. “Out back? But it’s dark out there, we didn’t decorate or turn on the lights or anything.”

Robert shrugged. “I don’t know. Do what you want,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “He told me to tell you.”

Jenny thought a moment, and then grinned wickedly. “Wants to meet me out back, eh?” she asked sarcastically. “I’m sure he does!”

She and Robert shared a laugh. Robert sighed in relief as Jenny meandered through the crowd, heading to the sliding glass door. ‘Good, very good,’ he thought, taking a big swig of his drink. He put it down and headed to the living room.

Everything was going according to the plan.

*

A hush fell over the crowd as the projection screen began to drop from the ceiling. It was huge, filling an entire wall. When everything was finally in place, the lights dimmed and an image appeared onscreen.

Jack Thompson: “Yeah, John Boy’s alright. He’s always been very respectful of my Jenny. She’s a real catch, son—you better do her right!” he added, holding up his fist.

Laughter filled the air.

Word of the presentation had gotten around quickly; people were swarming in to get a view.

The image changed to John Boy, sitting in a recliner. “Jenny is so great. What can I say? I love her.”

A collective “Aawww” fell across the crowd, with some scattered applause.

Stone appeared onscreen: “What a disgusting couple, huh? I think it’s fair to say John Boy is marrying WAY over his head!”

Everybody laughed. John Boy, in the audience, smiled and shrugged. He was looking around for Jenny, but couldn’t find her. He turned his attention back to the screen, sure that she would eventually find him. She always did.

Stu appeared onscreen: “Yeah, I mean, we partied a lot. A LOT. Jenny was always a little wild. I mean, she never did anything with any of us,” he added quickly—

A burst of laughter.

—“but she was always ready to kind of push things in the right direction. She was a player’s cheerleader, if you know what I mean.”

Ricky appeared onscreen: “Jesus, John Boy, you had to send out a guy with a video camera to record me saying good things about you?”

Roars of laughter filled the room.

Ricky was still onscreen: “Yeah, it’s true, he’s great. That Jenny, wow, I mean, we had some good times.”

More laughter; only, this time it was a bit more uncertain.

Stone appeared onscreen: “What’s the question?” He looked confused.

Roscoe appeared onscreen: “Yeah, I liked her,” he said, wide-eyed.

Ricky appeared onscreen: “Always wondered what she did, you know? To deserve all that?”

There were murmurs in the crowd. What was this about? Stone looked around uncomfortably.

Dave appeared onscreen: “Said she asked for it, I don’t know. Stone said it was ok.”

Stone appeared onscreen: “It was Jenny, she… she kind of pushed it, you know?”

A grainy image of a naked woman appeared onscreen; barely 20 years old, she was on her knees in the grass, with her back to the camera, bent over a chaise lounge. Jenny was holding down one arm while Audrey held down the other. There was a young guy, bronzed, muscular, behind the naked woman, thrusting fiercely. It was obvious the naked woman was resisting, she seemed to be pleading with Jenny—

The image was onscreen for less than five seconds—but it was long enough to start more muttering, and frenzied whispering filled the room.

“Turn it off!” a voice called out. Stone Moore. He could be seen, looking up at the ceiling-mounted projector. “Turn it off!”

Stu appeared onscreen: “Yeah, I never got to hit that shit. All I ever got was a fuckin’ blowjob!” he said, laughing wickedly.

Ricky appeared onscreen: “Jenny said, ‘Fuck the bitch, she deserves it.’ Who was I to argue?”

*

Outside, it was getting dark. They hadn’t decorated or planned for any partying out back, theory being it wasn’t a good idea to mix this many people with alcohol and a swimming pool. Therefore, the decision was made to declare it out of bounds and just leave the lights off, keeping everybody inside. Now, Jenny stood outside in the twilight, staring down at the pool’s edge, listening to the water softly lapping against the side. She couldn’t help but smile; she loved the pool.

She had a lot of good memories back here.

She felt hands on her shoulders, sighed as they softly squeezed and rubbed.

“Hey,” she said, leaning back. “You made it.”

“Unnh hunhh,” he responded.

“Gonna be all quiet tonight, are you?”

“Unnh hunhh.”

Jenny laughed and tried to turn around; his arms held her firmly in place, pulled her back into his chest. He reached around and cupped her breasts over the summer dress, squeezed them firmly.

“Naughty,” she purred, closing her eyes. His hands felt so good…

*

He shuffled her over and around, until they were facing a chaise lounge. His hands pushed her down; on her knees, she leaned on the chaise lounge, supporting the rest of her body weight on her arms.

“Dirty boy” she whispered thickly, judgment clouded by the accumulation of drinks. “Fuck me,” she hissed, wiggling her ass.

He ran his hands around her ass, rubbing and squeezing. He ran a fingertip between her cheeks (her response was a guttural moan) before grabbing the hem of the thin summer dress and hiking it up past her hips. He dropped a hand down between her thighs and ran his middle finger along her outer lips.

Instant moisture flooded Jenny’s vagina. She was ready to fuck.

He wasted no time, moved forward and pressed his cock to the fore, seeking entry.

“Hurry,” she said, reaching her hand down and guiding him in. “Come on,” she encouraged, urgency in her voice. “Fuck me.”

He obliged, lunging so that his cock slammed in all at once.

“Fuck yeah,” Jenny said, resting her head on the chaise lounge. She was buzzing hard, barely able to concentrate. She focused on the penetration, on the cock buried deep inside her. She felt more full than she could ever remember. “It even feels different tonight, baby, feels bigger,” she slurred. “Fuck that hole!”

Robert Sanders, cock settled all the way inside, couldn’t help grinning.

Jenny Thompson was a freak.

*

He reached up and yanked the dress off her shoulders, ripping the spaghetti shoulder straps and freeing her medium-sized breasts to dangle below. He reached down, pinching the pale pink nipples as he slow-fucked her cunt in smooth strokes.

“Faster,” she begged, almost whining, “You always do it faster.” She felt the anxious pressure building, much slower than normal. John Boy always got frantic, fucked her hard and fast; it was usually a race to see who could get off first, a race she sometimes won, and sometimes lost. Tonight was different; he was going much slower than usual, increasing his pace in slow, measured steps. She didn’t know how to handle it, felt her pussy clutching his hot cock greedily, frantically chasing the breathtaking release she knew lingered just barely out of reach. “Faster,” she repeated, breathing heavily. “Please…” she begged in desperation.

‘Not yet,’ he thought to himself, unable to deny how good her body was, or the strength of his response. He was ready to pound it, to ruthlessly fuck that hole. The time would come and he would oblige—

But not yet.

‘Wait for it,’ he told himself, steadily moving back and forth. He looked straight ahead, at the dimly lit house windows, and listened to the din of noise from inside. ‘Almost time.’

*

“—and then I was like, ‘Damn, what the fuck is she doing?’” Stone’s voice said onscreen. “I mean, she was taking it pretty far.”

“Did you stop it?” a voice asked onscreen.

The onscreen Stone shook his head. “Nope, but I… well, I couldn’t let it go without… “ He looked around suspiciously. “You already know about it, right?”

The voice again: “The video?”

Onscreen, Stone grinned. “Yeah, the video, dog. Wanna see it?

By now, the audience was decidedly uncomfortable. This had strayed somewhat from the usual Groom’s Roast, instead diverging into some kind of sordid confessional. And then there was the five-second video, with Jenny holding down some girl’s arm…

Stone couldn’t figure out how to turn it off; he was frantically trying to find a switch, something, ANYTHING, to stop what he now knew was coming.

Roscoe appeared onscreen: “Had some big ol’ titties. Roscoe like big ol’ titties.”

Stu appeared onscreen: “I should have pumped that shit when I had the chance!” he said, laughing. “Instead, I saved it for Stone. Ungrateful bastard!”

Jenny, scowling, appeared onscreen: “How did you find out about her?”

The grainy image again appeared onscreen, the young man pounding it home, the victim—make no mistake, she was a victim—being held down on one side by Jenny, on the other by Audrey. It played for five seconds before Jenny again appeared, alone, onscreen.

“Fuck that bitch,” Jenny whispered onscreen, slurring slightly. She seemed to have been drinking when the recording was made. “She had it comin’...”

Stone appeared onscreen: “Yeah, I hit it first. It was so fucking tight.”

Ricky appeared onscreen: “I came all over that bitch. Jenny said go for it, said she deserved it.” He grinned, pleased with himself, and shrugged as if to say, ‘What are you going to do?’

Dave appeared onscreen: “We’re not going to get in trouble, are we? Stone said it was ok.”

Stone appeared onscreen: “Jenny said it was ok.”

Jenny appeared onscreen: “Fuck that bitch,” she repeated in her slur, a repeat of the previous clip. “She had it comin’…”

The grainy image again appeared onscreen; only this time there was sound, poor quality but good enough to hear the words.

*

“Why—,” Ella whispered, shaking her head, “UUNNGGHH.” Interrupted, she continued: “Why—UUNNGGHH—are—UUNNG GHH—you—UUNNGGAAHHHH—doing⠔UNGH—this—UUNNGGHH—to⠔AHHHH—me…”

Her body shook with each blow, pendulous breasts bounding forward and back, forward and back, head jolting in time. Her arms and knees were sore from the abuse.

Jenny bent forward, her face inches from Ella’s.

“You don’t know?” she asked softly. Ella lifted her head, tried to focus on Jenny as the cruel pounding continued.

“No,” she replied.

“Don’t you remember? The first time you went in the closet, you came out and lifted your arms, flashing those fat ass titties for EVERYBODY to see. We all saw your ridiculous nipples—even John Boy. Oh, he tried to look away, he hoped I wouldn’t notice, but I fucking DID. So, you wanted to be a whore, huh? Fuckin’ with my man, huh? Fine bitch! FINE! I made sure they treated you like one!” Jenny’s voice increased in volume as she spoke, nostrils flared, breathing heavily. “Oh, I was gonna let Stoney and the fellas have a little fun with you,” she continued, eyes blazing pure hatred, “but after that little stunt it was no fuckin’ holds barred.” She paused, nodding. “You got initiated, bitch.”

‘No,’ Ella thought, ‘it wasn’t like that. I—‘ Her eyes watered again; tears fell, splashing against the chair. Her head slumped down, shoulders shook as a sob wracked through her, followed by another; all while the ruthless pounding continued, unabated. “I wasn’t…” she whispered between sobs, trying to respond.

“That’s right, take it bitch,” Jenny continued, right in Ella’s face. “It’s just more of the same, nothing a slut like you can’t handle, right? You bought this shit, you little cunt, so fuckin’ OWN IT!” She practically screamed the last, spittle flying in Ella’s face.



Dave, all but oblivious to the exchange, tightened his grip on Ella’s waist, pulled back powerfully in time with his urgent pelvic thrusts. He was rutting now; the wracking of Ella’s body, as she broke down in tears, finally triggered his release.

“FffuuuuccCCKKKKK YYYYEEEAAAHHHHH!” he bellowed, unleashing a torrent of hot semen deep inside Ella’s battered pussy. He continued pumping, gradually relenting until his motions were exaggeratedly slow; the feel, every inch of Ella’s cunt fiercely clutching his veiny cock, was intoxicating. Finally he stopped moving, completely spent.

Dave pulled out and away quickly, heading back to the pool where he grabbed his trunks. He pulled them on, picked up a towel, and headed back into the house.



Exhausted, Ella couldn’t hold her weight up anymore, and collapsed onto the lounge chair. Still naked, she laid on her stomach, hunched over, her face twisted in harsh denial. She felt his discharge oozing out; the clumpy cum ran down her thighs, it was everywhere.

Ella shook her head—she couldn’t cope with all that had happened, especially this last. She had no mechanism to understand the level of cruelty that had been perpetrated on her, no reference point for this kind of deviant human behavior. Breathing unevenly, drool spilling from the corner of her mouth, Ella was experiencing a deep layer of profound shock.


She was totally Fucked, in every way imaginable.

“Now, we’re finished,” Jenny said as she stood, releasing Ella’s arm. Audrey quickly followed suit. “Frankly, I don’t give two shits what you do from here.” Jenny looked up at the guest room window and saw Stone, leaning out, staring back down. Evidently he had seen it all. Maybe more—it looked like he was holding his cell phone. Had he recorded it? The corners of Jenny’s lips rose slightly. She turned back on Ella. “If I were you, I wouldn’t stay here—it might be hazardous to your health. Fucking BITCH,” she concluded bitterly, viciously kicking the chaise lounge as she walked back towards the house.


Cold shock was evident on every face in the room. No way this could have happened; it all seemed so calculated, a level of degradation no one would have ever figured on from the likes of Jenny Thompson, former captain of the cheerleaders. There was no describing what they had just seen, the empty feeling it left inside, the cold reality of a young woman wronged, of Jenny being the mastermind, of Stone and Stu and Ricky and Roscoe and Dave, even Junior College All-American Dave Baxter, being the perpetrators.

They did it, they talked about it, they even seemed proud of it. And they made no apologies.

Uneasy murmuring and muttering filled the air. Disgust settled palpably over the crowd. John Boy looked around uncomfortably; how had this gone so horribly wrong? And where was Jenny?

*

Ella, a look of intense vindication on her face, had her hands on the floodlight power switch. She looked outside and saw the two of them on the grass—not far from where the incident recorded on video had happened, as it turned out—and decided now was as good a time as any.

She flipped on the floodlights.

And then she began laughing.

*

The lights came on in a flash. Robert, taking his cue, began pumping earnestly, using his hands to draw her hips back in counterstroke to his thrusts. It was rough, animalistic sex. He was sure he had never fucked a hole this brutally before.

Jenny responded. “Fuck me, baby,” she hissed, “fuck me like you hate me!”

Robert complied, adamantly pile driving his cock home. He felt the orgasmic tickle begin, knew he had only a few seconds more.

He hoped everyone was watching.

Just to be sure they saw what they were supposed to see, he reached up and grabbed Jenny’s hair, pulled the curly golden locks so that her head was forced back, facing her home for all to see. Strain evident in her corded neck, Jenny’s eyes were closed in intense concentration.

She was on her own, blissfully unaware of everything around her. Her focus was fixed on the earth-shattering orgasm building within—and nothing else, no matter how big or small, mattered.

*

“Look, outside,” a voice said. It was echoed by another, and then another. And then a collective gasp as one voice, louder than the others—a female voice, from over by the sliding glass door, to be precise—said: “Isn’t that Jenny?”

“Oh my God,” John Boy whispered, putting his hand over his face. “Oh my God.”

Onscreen, John Boy sat in the recliner. “Jenny is so great. What can I say? I love her.” The image froze there, John Boy smiling.

Not that anybody was paying attention. They were all watching the spectacle outside.

*

“Here it comes,” Robert said with a grunt. “This is for my sister, bitch. All of it, the testimonials I had to drive around and collect, the copies of the video I sent to all of your families, friends, and co-workers. The copy I sent to the Junior College Athletic Association, and the copy I sent to your church.”

He grunted again, paused.

“Oh fuck,” he said softly as his cock gushed blistering cum deep inside Jenny Thompson.

“Aahhhh yeesssss!” she screamed, oblivious to the lights, to the grass, to the rumble of noise coming from inside her home. She hadn’t heard a thing Robert Sanders said, had instead been absorbed in the pending orgasm, and when it came OH MY FUCKING GOD it came.

Tears of pleasure ran down her face as her cunt clamped down on the invading cock, forcing it to roughly jerk back and forth, heightening her towering orgasmic inferno.

Robert laughed wickedly, unable to comprehend how audacious all of this must have looked from inside the home. He kept cumming, filling Jenny up with load until it splurged out around his plunging cock. He kept pushing it in, prolonging the moment as long as possible.

He needed everyone to see.

This, truly, was a moment that would live forever.



April 9th — Satisfaction

Ella waited with Robert at the airport, sharing a moment before he flew home. They sat together at the Starbuck’s kiosk, he sipping a latte, she nursing a hot cocoa.

Robert looked at his sister. “Everybody got copies: family, friends, and co-workers. Every player and cheerleader involved is going to pay for what they did. I was even able to add a bit of Jenny’s Bash performance as a final touch.”

Ella nodded and raised her cocoa. “Was it hard to get them to talk?” she asked as she took a sip.

Robert shook his head. “Not really. Getting them alone was the hardest part. Once I was able to do that, it was nothing to get them talking. They were eager, practically bragged about it,” he said, his hand tightening briefly. “I wanted to kick their asses, but I didn’t. I played it straight.” He nodded. “I followed the plan.”

“It was a good plan.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“A very good plan,” Ella added. She was satisfied with how things had turned out.

Very satisfied.

“Of course, the best part is you aren’t really in the video. They have no way to know who the girl was, you can only see from behind—and nobody involved will ever want the ‘victim’ to come forward, you can count on that.”

Ella nodded, sipping some hot cocoa. She grabbed her stirrer and lazily swirled some melted marshmallows around.

“How are you sleeping?” he asked.

Ella looked up and smiled. “Better. Pretty good, actually. No nightmares so far!”

Robert smiled, put his hand on Ella’s. “I’m glad to hear that, sis, really glad.”

“Me, too,” Ella replied with a smile.

“Flight 595 to Tallahassee, boarding at gate B7 in fifteen minutes,” a disembodied voice announced.

“That’s me,” Robert said and stood.

“Thank you so much, Bobby,” Ella said, stepping over and wrapping her arms around her big brother. Robert hugged her back.

“I’m glad you trusted me,” he said, stepping back.

“Me, too.”

“Bye, sis.”

“Buh-bye, Bobby.”



June 27th — Dr. Samuels

“This will be my last visit,” Ella announced as she stood, the session nearing its end. Dr. Samuels didn’t seem surprised.

“I must say, I’m very impressed with your progress. The way you’ve come to grips with everything, it really is an inspirational story. These last ten weeks have been wonderful, seeing you come out of your shell. I’m very happy for you.”

Ella grinned. “Thank you.”

“And still no nightmares?”

Ella smiled, a twinkle in her sea green eyes. “Nope, not a one.”

“Good,” Dr. Samuels said. She paused a moment before asking: “Can I have a hug?”

Ella melted. “Of course you can, we’ve been through a lot together!”

“I know, and I couldn’t be more proud of you!”

Ella was sure she’d never have another nightmare about what had happened at Key Biscayne Junior College again.

She couldn’t help but smile.



EPILOGUE — The Fate of Dr. Tarsal

(Robert Sanders was more than thorough—the doctor who had taken advantage of his sister during her Cheerleader’s Physical Exam had to be dealt with as well. It wasn't that difficult to get the man behind bars, where Dr. Tarsal made a few, ah, friends...

The two men shared a small, ten-foot by ten-foot cell. It contained a wiry twin-sized bunk bed, a small empty bookshelf, and a single exposed toilet. The slender man slept on the top bunk, the fat man on the bottom. During the day, both men followed the same routine: morning formation, breakfast, eight hours on a work detail, dinner, and then three hours to themselves they could spend lifting weights, playing basketball, reading in the library, or any of the other sundry things convicts do these days.

At night, it was very different.

The slender man would climb down off the top bunk, lean over the bottom bunk and pull down his drawers. The fat man would giggle liked a little schoolgirl—he always giggled—as he rolled out of his bunk and crawled over behind the trembling, skinny man.

The fat man would pull down his trunks, releasing a short fat uncircumcised cock that was always hard and always ready. Positioned behind, he would line up and drive it home, taking that ass.

Every. Single. Day.

Initially, the slender man had resisted.

On his first night, he had refused the offer, opted instead to stay in his bunk; the next morning, in the shower, three men pinned him in the corner and beat the shit out of him before throwing him face-down and taking turns, one after the other, corn-holing the new inmate.

On the second night, he refused again; this time, it was six men in the shower, squealing like pigs as they circled him and repeated what had happened the day before.

On the third night, he had finally learned. He climbed down, swallowed his pride, and bent over. Abject humiliation washed over him as he laid there; apprehension mixed with inevitability and disgust as he bent over, squeezing his anus tightly shut, waiting for it to happen.

And it always happened.

At first, the fat man came quickly. The skinny ass was so tight, he just couldn’t hold back. After a few days, it began to take longer. And longer. And longer. Now, he was up to at least half an hour of pumping before unleashing a heavy load deep in the slender man’s bowels, always with a running commentary. “Squeeze it, bitch” seemed to be his personal favorite, a suggestion he frequently made while slapping the small man’s ass. He was keen to point out that “You’re getting’ a lot better at this, boy” and often suggested “You gonna learn to suck cock,” just as he fired his load.

After two months of this, Tarsal was starting to get used to it. His rectum was stretched to the point that he could mostly tolerate the abuse he received after lights out every night.

He rarely bled anymore.

Most importantly, the former doctor never thought about touching schoolgirls ever again.


REMEMBER: It’s only fantasy.
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Originally Posted by Night.Bane View Post
(Conclusion)

April 5th — 2:00 PM, Jenny’s Home

Jenny Thompson was sure she had never seen a more festively decorated home. Balloons, streamers, and platters of food all stood ready for the hundred or so expected guests.

Certainly, her home had never been this bright.

She went over the schedule of events in her mind, one last time: guests would probably start showing up within the next hour with most arriving by 6:00 o’clock, some light partying (couple kegs at the ready plus many other libations) until 8:00, a few words by the father of the bride, a few more words by the mother of the groom, a tribute by friends (who knew how that would go? Stone and Anna had steadfastly refused to let her coordinate the tribute, but they promised to keep it clean) of both bride and groom, quick thank you’s from Jenny and John Boy, and then just wicked partying until everybody passed out.

That was the plan, and it seemed like a good one.

Jenny went over the supplies and decorations a final time before putting on her makeup and getting ready for the party.

The fun was about to begin…

*

Two and a half hours later, a dozen people had already shown up. Anna and the girls were in place shortly after 2:00, to help Jenny welcome everyone and make sure the ‘help’ was doing their duties. The ‘help’ was a handful of workers from the catering company who were dressed in serving outfits and charged with maintaining the food, drinks, and decorations. Their primary purpose was to ensure that everything was just right, all the time.

All the prep work done, all her girls and the help in place, Jenny could finally just relax and breathe. She manned the door, radiant in a simple but elegant white flower-print summer dress.

The thin dress was very complimentary; it clung to her body in all the right places, tight and low enough to be slightly daring, loose and high enough to discourage gawking. Jenny eschewed both bra and panties, preferring instead the soft breeze that played between her thighs and under her arms. Her long blonde hair curled around her shoulders, framing an unlined face glowing brilliantly around sky blue eyes. She was a picture out of Cosmopolitan, stunning girl-next-door beauty with an undeniable figure and dazzling smile.

Jenny looked very, very good tonight.

*

Everything was phenomenal, the people, the food, the music, all of it better than Jenny would have ever imagined. Early on, they had to call the catering company and order more food; almost 100 guests arrived by 6:00 o’clock and folks were still streaming in, more than they expected, but thankfully they had a backup plan.

She took another big swig of beer.

“Great party,” a voice said in her ear.

Jenny turned on her future husband and smiled.

“Hell yeah,” she replied, putting down her drink and throwing her arms around his neck.


It seemed like every room in the house was full of talking and laughing. As fast as empty bottles and cleared plates were laid down, one of the catering crew would pick them up, trying their best to keep the place clean.

One of the crew was a smaller girl, about 5’2, with short black hair and ordinary brown eyes. Her headgear was pulled low and she kept her head down everywhere she went. She didn’t want to draw any attention to herself—not here, not tonight. Ella Sanders, catering crewmember, was painfully aware of the potential consequences should anyone recognize her. Not that she expected them to. She had strapped her big breasts down, hiding them the best she could. Her freshly cut short hair was now jet-black, a look she didn’t expect to draw any particular attention. Brown contacts concealed her radiant sea green eyes. Extensive tanning sessions the last month left her skin considerably darker than it was back in the days she had been a student at Key Biscayne Junior College. Every part of her disguise was carefully considered; at a glance, she might have been a random Latina working for the catering company, you would have to look very closely to think otherwise. Robert approved the disguise, and here she was.

Of course, she had to be here. After Robert laid out the plan for her, after she felt the surge in her chest, the quickening of her pulse as he described in detail what he was going to do, she KNEW she had to be there to see it through. She stood ready to provide any needed assistance, but all Robert wanted was her presence, for her to be there to see it unfold, to know that it wasn’t over, not yet.

It was far from fucking over.

Robert Sanders was there as well. He was, for all intents and purposes, a guest. A social butterfly, he flowed from conversation to conversation with ease, rubbing elbows and glad-handing like a politician. There were so many guests in attendance that casual acquaintances were fairly common. Naturally, Robert knew all of the principals involved: Jack Thompson, John Boy, Stone, Stu, Ricky, Roscoe, and Dave, among others, as well as Jenny, Anna, Audrey, Maggie, and the rest of the cheerleaders. He knew them all by name, talked about the wedding, the planning, and the honeymoon, all of it. He schmoozed them like old friends he had known for years. He had gone to pains to ingratiate himself with them—

All according to plan.

*

After following her around awhile, Robert was finally able to pin Jenny alone. He moved in quickly. Smiling, he tilted his drink and said, “Congratulations! You two are going to be great together!”

Jenny smiled warmly and tilted hers in turn. “Thank you so much! Having a good time?”

Robert took a sip, nodded. “Oh yes, I think this party is going to get pretty lively tonight.”

Jenny laughed. “I think so, too. I can’t believe how many people showed up! I don’t know them all, but of course they all know me,” she said, taking a drink. When she spoke, her words ran together slightly—not quite slurred, not quite drunk, but definitely buzzing in a big way.

“Of course, you’re very popular. By the way, you look stunning tonight,” Robert said, and it was the truth. His eyes dropped, pausing at her barely discernible nipples, then roamed further down to her hips, noting with approval the way her dress hugged and accentuated their curves. He brought his gaze back up to Jenny’s bright blue eyes and smiled wistfully. “Would’ve been a beautiful bride,” he muttered in a strange mixture of admiration and contempt. She was just about the hottest—and cruelest—thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Jenny didn’t hear the last, so when Robert opened his arms to give her a hug she obliged. She had given and received plenty of hugs tonight.

“He wants you to meet him out back,” Robert whispered in her ear.

“What?” Jenny asked. Robert held her close, one hand on the curve of her lower back, pressing her firm breasts into his chest.

“John Boy, he wants to meet you out back in five minutes. Said it was urgent.”

Jenny pulled away. “Out back? But it’s dark out there, we didn’t decorate or turn on the lights or anything.”

Robert shrugged. “I don’t know. Do what you want,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “He told me to tell you.”

Jenny thought a moment, and then grinned wickedly. “Wants to meet me out back, eh?” she asked sarcastically. “I’m sure he does!”

She and Robert shared a laugh. Robert sighed in relief as Jenny meandered through the crowd, heading to the sliding glass door. ‘Good, very good,’ he thought, taking a big swig of his drink. He put it down and headed to the living room.

Everything was going according to the plan.

*

A hush fell over the crowd as the projection screen began to drop from the ceiling. It was huge, filling an entire wall. When everything was finally in place, the lights dimmed and an image appeared onscreen.

Jack Thompson: “Yeah, John Boy’s alright. He’s always been very respectful of my Jenny. She’s a real catch, son—you better do her right!” he added, holding up his fist.

Laughter filled the air.

Word of the presentation had gotten around quickly; people were swarming in to get a view.

The image changed to John Boy, sitting in a recliner. “Jenny is so great. What can I say? I love her.”

A collective “Aawww” fell across the crowd, with some scattered applause.

Stone appeared onscreen: “What a disgusting couple, huh? I think it’s fair to say John Boy is marrying WAY over his head!”

Everybody laughed. John Boy, in the audience, smiled and shrugged. He was looking around for Jenny, but couldn’t find her. He turned his attention back to the screen, sure that she would eventually find him. She always did.

Stu appeared onscreen: “Yeah, I mean, we partied a lot. A LOT. Jenny was always a little wild. I mean, she never did anything with any of us,” he added quickly—

A burst of laughter.

—“but she was always ready to kind of push things in the right direction. She was a player’s cheerleader, if you know what I mean.”

Ricky appeared onscreen: “Jesus, John Boy, you had to send out a guy with a video camera to record me saying good things about you?”

Roars of laughter filled the room.

Ricky was still onscreen: “Yeah, it’s true, he’s great. That Jenny, wow, I mean, we had some good times.”

More laughter; only, this time it was a bit more uncertain.

Stone appeared onscreen: “What’s the question?” He looked confused.

Roscoe appeared onscreen: “Yeah, I liked her,” he said, wide-eyed.

Ricky appeared onscreen: “Always wondered what she did, you know? To deserve all that?”

There were murmurs in the crowd. What was this about? Stone looked around uncomfortably.

Dave appeared onscreen: “Said she asked for it, I don’t know. Stone said it was ok.”

Stone appeared onscreen: “It was Jenny, she… she kind of pushed it, you know?”

A grainy image of a naked woman appeared onscreen; barely 20 years old, she was on her knees in the grass, with her back to the camera, bent over a chaise lounge. Jenny was holding down one arm while Audrey held down the other. There was a young guy, bronzed, muscular, behind the naked woman, thrusting fiercely. It was obvious the naked woman was resisting, she seemed to be pleading with Jenny—

The image was onscreen for less than five seconds—but it was long enough to start more muttering, and frenzied whispering filled the room.

“Turn it off!” a voice called out. Stone Moore. He could be seen, looking up at the ceiling-mounted projector. “Turn it off!”

Stu appeared onscreen: “Yeah, I never got to hit that shit. All I ever got was a fuckin’ blowjob!” he said, laughing wickedly.

Ricky appeared onscreen: “Jenny said, ‘Fuck the bitch, she deserves it.’ Who was I to argue?”

*

Outside, it was getting dark. They hadn’t decorated or planned for any partying out back, theory being it wasn’t a good idea to mix this many people with alcohol and a swimming pool. Therefore, the decision was made to declare it out of bounds and just leave the lights off, keeping everybody inside. Now, Jenny stood outside in the twilight, staring down at the pool’s edge, listening to the water softly lapping against the side. She couldn’t help but smile; she loved the pool.

She had a lot of good memories back here.

She felt hands on her shoulders, sighed as they softly squeezed and rubbed.

“Hey,” she said, leaning back. “You made it.”

“Unnh hunhh,” he responded.

“Gonna be all quiet tonight, are you?”

“Unnh hunhh.”

Jenny laughed and tried to turn around; his arms held her firmly in place, pulled her back into his chest. He reached around and cupped her breasts over the summer dress, squeezed them firmly.

“Naughty,” she purred, closing her eyes. His hands felt so good…

*

He shuffled her over and around, until they were facing a chaise lounge. His hands pushed her down; on her knees, she leaned on the chaise lounge, supporting the rest of her body weight on her arms.

“Dirty boy” she whispered thickly, judgment clouded by the accumulation of drinks. “Fuck me,” she hissed, wiggling her ass.

He ran his hands around her ass, rubbing and squeezing. He ran a fingertip between her cheeks (her response was a guttural moan) before grabbing the hem of the thin summer dress and hiking it up past her hips. He dropped a hand down between her thighs and ran his middle finger along her outer lips.

Instant moisture flooded Jenny’s vagina. She was ready to fuck.

He wasted no time, moved forward and pressed his cock to the fore, seeking entry.

“Hurry,” she said, reaching her hand down and guiding him in. “Come on,” she encouraged, urgency in her voice. “Fuck me.”

He obliged, lunging so that his cock slammed in all at once.

“Fuck yeah,” Jenny said, resting her head on the chaise lounge. She was buzzing hard, barely able to concentrate. She focused on the penetration, on the cock buried deep inside her. She felt more full than she could ever remember. “It even feels different tonight, baby, feels bigger,” she slurred. “Fuck that hole!”

Robert Sanders, cock settled all the way inside, couldn’t help grinning.

Jenny Thompson was a freak.

*

He reached up and yanked the dress off her shoulders, ripping the spaghetti shoulder straps and freeing her medium-sized breasts to dangle below. He reached down, pinching the pale pink nipples as he slow-fucked her cunt in smooth strokes.

“Faster,” she begged, almost whining, “You always do it faster.” She felt the anxious pressure building, much slower than normal. John Boy always got frantic, fucked her hard and fast; it was usually a race to see who could get off first, a race she sometimes won, and sometimes lost. Tonight was different; he was going much slower than usual, increasing his pace in slow, measured steps. She didn’t know how to handle it, felt her pussy clutching his hot cock greedily, frantically chasing the breathtaking release she knew lingered just barely out of reach. “Faster,” she repeated, breathing heavily. “Please…” she begged in desperation.

‘Not yet,’ he thought to himself, unable to deny how good her body was, or the strength of his response. He was ready to pound it, to ruthlessly fuck that hole. The time would come and he would oblige—

But not yet.

‘Wait for it,’ he told himself, steadily moving back and forth. He looked straight ahead, at the dimly lit house windows, and listened to the din of noise from inside. ‘Almost time.’

*

“—and then I was like, ‘Damn, what the fuck is she doing?’” Stone’s voice said onscreen. “I mean, she was taking it pretty far.”

“Did you stop it?” a voice asked onscreen.

The onscreen Stone shook his head. “Nope, but I… well, I couldn’t let it go without… “ He looked around suspiciously. “You already know about it, right?”

The voice again: “The video?”

Onscreen, Stone grinned. “Yeah, the video, dog. Wanna see it?

By now, the audience was decidedly uncomfortable. This had strayed somewhat from the usual Groom’s Roast, instead diverging into some kind of sordid confessional. And then there was the five-second video, with Jenny holding down some girl’s arm…

Stone couldn’t figure out how to turn it off; he was frantically trying to find a switch, something, ANYTHING, to stop what he now knew was coming.

Roscoe appeared onscreen: “Had some big ol’ titties. Roscoe like big ol’ titties.”

Stu appeared onscreen: “I should have pumped that shit when I had the chance!” he said, laughing. “Instead, I saved it for Stone. Ungrateful bastard!”

Jenny, scowling, appeared onscreen: “How did you find out about her?”

The grainy image again appeared onscreen, the young man pounding it home, the victim—make no mistake, she was a victim—being held down on one side by Jenny, on the other by Audrey. It played for five seconds before Jenny again appeared, alone, onscreen.

“Fuck that bitch,” Jenny whispered onscreen, slurring slightly. She seemed to have been drinking when the recording was made. “She had it comin’...”

Stone appeared onscreen: “Yeah, I hit it first. It was so fucking tight.”

Ricky appeared onscreen: “I came all over that bitch. Jenny said go for it, said she deserved it.” He grinned, pleased with himself, and shrugged as if to say, ‘What are you going to do?’

Dave appeared onscreen: “We’re not going to get in trouble, are we? Stone said it was ok.”

Stone appeared onscreen: “Jenny said it was ok.”

Jenny appeared onscreen: “Fuck that bitch,” she repeated in her slur, a repeat of the previous clip. “She had it comin’…”

The grainy image again appeared onscreen; only this time there was sound, poor quality but good enough to hear the words.

*

“Why—,” Ella whispered, shaking her head, “UUNNGGHH.” Interrupted, she continued: “Why—UUNNGGHH—are—UUNNG GHH—you—UUNNGGAAHHHH—doing⠔UNGH—this—UUNNGGHH—to⠔AHHHH—me…”

Her body shook with each blow, pendulous breasts bounding forward and back, forward and back, head jolting in time. Her arms and knees were sore from the abuse.

Jenny bent forward, her face inches from Ella’s.

“You don’t know?” she asked softly. Ella lifted her head, tried to focus on Jenny as the cruel pounding continued.

“No,” she replied.

“Don’t you remember? The first time you went in the closet, you came out and lifted your arms, flashing those fat ass titties for EVERYBODY to see. We all saw your ridiculous nipples—even John Boy. Oh, he tried to look away, he hoped I wouldn’t notice, but I fucking DID. So, you wanted to be a whore, huh? Fuckin’ with my man, huh? Fine bitch! FINE! I made sure they treated you like one!” Jenny’s voice increased in volume as she spoke, nostrils flared, breathing heavily. “Oh, I was gonna let Stoney and the fellas have a little fun with you,” she continued, eyes blazing pure hatred, “but after that little stunt it was no fuckin’ holds barred.” She paused, nodding. “You got initiated, bitch.”

‘No,’ Ella thought, ‘it wasn’t like that. I—‘ Her eyes watered again; tears fell, splashing against the chair. Her head slumped down, shoulders shook as a sob wracked through her, followed by another; all while the ruthless pounding continued, unabated. “I wasn’t…” she whispered between sobs, trying to respond.

“That’s right, take it bitch,” Jenny continued, right in Ella’s face. “It’s just more of the same, nothing a slut like you can’t handle, right? You bought this shit, you little cunt, so fuckin’ OWN IT!” She practically screamed the last, spittle flying in Ella’s face.



Dave, all but oblivious to the exchange, tightened his grip on Ella’s waist, pulled back powerfully in time with his urgent pelvic thrusts. He was rutting now; the wracking of Ella’s body, as she broke down in tears, finally triggered his release.

“FffuuuuccCCKKKKK YYYYEEEAAAHHHHH!” he bellowed, unleashing a torrent of hot semen deep inside Ella’s battered pussy. He continued pumping, gradually relenting until his motions were exaggeratedly slow; the feel, every inch of Ella’s cunt fiercely clutching his veiny cock, was intoxicating. Finally he stopped moving, completely spent.

Dave pulled out and away quickly, heading back to the pool where he grabbed his trunks. He pulled them on, picked up a towel, and headed back into the house.



Exhausted, Ella couldn’t hold her weight up anymore, and collapsed onto the lounge chair. Still naked, she laid on her stomach, hunched over, her face twisted in harsh denial. She felt his discharge oozing out; the clumpy cum ran down her thighs, it was everywhere.

Ella shook her head—she couldn’t cope with all that had happened, especially this last. She had no mechanism to understand the level of cruelty that had been perpetrated on her, no reference point for this kind of deviant human behavior. Breathing unevenly, drool spilling from the corner of her mouth, Ella was experiencing a deep layer of profound shock.


She was totally Fucked, in every way imaginable.

“Now, we’re finished,” Jenny said as she stood, releasing Ella’s arm. Audrey quickly followed suit. “Frankly, I don’t give two shits what you do from here.” Jenny looked up at the guest room window and saw Stone, leaning out, staring back down. Evidently he had seen it all. Maybe more—it looked like he was holding his cell phone. Had he recorded it? The corners of Jenny’s lips rose slightly. She turned back on Ella. “If I were you, I wouldn’t stay here—it might be hazardous to your health. Fucking BITCH,” she concluded bitterly, viciously kicking the chaise lounge as she walked back towards the house.


Cold shock was evident on every face in the room. No way this could have happened; it all seemed so calculated, a level of degradation no one would have ever figured on from the likes of Jenny Thompson, former captain of the cheerleaders. There was no describing what they had just seen, the empty feeling it left inside, the cold reality of a young woman wronged, of Jenny being the mastermind, of Stone and Stu and Ricky and Roscoe and Dave, even Junior College All-American Dave Baxter, being the perpetrators.

They did it, they talked about it, they even seemed proud of it. And they made no apologies.

Uneasy murmuring and muttering filled the air. Disgust settled palpably over the crowd. John Boy looked around uncomfortably; how had this gone so horribly wrong? And where was Jenny?

*

Ella, a look of intense vindication on her face, had her hands on the floodlight power switch. She looked outside and saw the two of them on the grass—not far from where the incident recorded on video had happened, as it turned out—and decided now was as good a time as any.

She flipped on the floodlights.

And then she began laughing.

*

The lights came on in a flash. Robert, taking his cue, began pumping earnestly, using his hands to draw her hips back in counterstroke to his thrusts. It was rough, animalistic sex. He was sure he had never fucked a hole this brutally before.

Jenny responded. “Fuck me, baby,” she hissed, “fuck me like you hate me!”

Robert complied, adamantly pile driving his cock home. He felt the orgasmic tickle begin, knew he had only a few seconds more.

He hoped everyone was watching.

Just to be sure they saw what they were supposed to see, he reached up and grabbed Jenny’s hair, pulled the curly golden locks so that her head was forced back, facing her home for all to see. Strain evident in her corded neck, Jenny’s eyes were closed in intense concentration.

She was on her own, blissfully unaware of everything around her. Her focus was fixed on the earth-shattering orgasm building within—and nothing else, no matter how big or small, mattered.

*

“Look, outside,” a voice said. It was echoed by another, and then another. And then a collective gasp as one voice, louder than the others—a female voice, from over by the sliding glass door, to be precise—said: “Isn’t that Jenny?”

“Oh my God,” John Boy whispered, putting his hand over his face. “Oh my God.”

Onscreen, John Boy sat in the recliner. “Jenny is so great. What can I say? I love her.” The image froze there, John Boy smiling.

Not that anybody was paying attention. They were all watching the spectacle outside.

*

“Here it comes,” Robert said with a grunt. “This is for my sister, bitch. All of it, the testimonials I had to drive around and collect, the copies of the video I sent to all of your families, friends, and co-workers. The copy I sent to the Junior College Athletic Association, and the copy I sent to your church.”

He grunted again, paused.

“Oh fuck,” he said softly as his cock gushed blistering cum deep inside Jenny Thompson.

“Aahhhh yeesssss!” she screamed, oblivious to the lights, to the grass, to the rumble of noise coming from inside her home. She hadn’t heard a thing Robert Sanders said, had instead been absorbed in the pending orgasm, and when it came OH MY FUCKING GOD it came.

Tears of pleasure ran down her face as her cunt clamped down on the invading cock, forcing it to roughly jerk back and forth, heightening her towering orgasmic inferno.

Robert laughed wickedly, unable to comprehend how audacious all of this must have looked from inside the home. He kept cumming, filling Jenny up with load until it splurged out around his plunging cock. He kept pushing it in, prolonging the moment as long as possible.

He needed everyone to see.

This, truly, was a moment that would live forever.



April 9th — Satisfaction

Ella waited with Robert at the airport, sharing a moment before he flew home. They sat together at the Starbuck’s kiosk, he sipping a latte, she nursing a hot cocoa.

Robert looked at his sister. “Everybody got copies: family, friends, and co-workers. Every player and cheerleader involved is going to pay for what they did. I was even able to add a bit of Jenny’s Bash performance as a final touch.”

Ella nodded and raised her cocoa. “Was it hard to get them to talk?” she asked as she took a sip.

Robert shook his head. “Not really. Getting them alone was the hardest part. Once I was able to do that, it was nothing to get them talking. They were eager, practically bragged about it,” he said, his hand tightening briefly. “I wanted to kick their asses, but I didn’t. I played it straight.” He nodded. “I followed the plan.”

“It was a good plan.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“A very good plan,” Ella added. She was satisfied with how things had turned out.

Very satisfied.

“Of course, the best part is you aren’t really in the video. They have no way to know who the girl was, you can only see from behind—and nobody involved will ever want the ‘victim’ to come forward, you can count on that.”

Ella nodded, sipping some hot cocoa. She grabbed her stirrer and lazily swirled some melted marshmallows around.

“How are you sleeping?” he asked.

Ella looked up and smiled. “Better. Pretty good, actually. No nightmares so far!”

Robert smiled, put his hand on Ella’s. “I’m glad to hear that, sis, really glad.”

“Me, too,” Ella replied with a smile.

“Flight 595 to Tallahassee, boarding at gate B7 in fifteen minutes,” a disembodied voice announced.

“That’s me,” Robert said and stood.

“Thank you so much, Bobby,” Ella said, stepping over and wrapping her arms around her big brother. Robert hugged her back.

“I’m glad you trusted me,” he said, stepping back.

“Me, too.”

“Bye, sis.”

“Buh-bye, Bobby.”



June 27th — Dr. Samuels

“This will be my last visit,” Ella announced as she stood, the session nearing its end. Dr. Samuels didn’t seem surprised.

“I must say, I’m very impressed with your progress. The way you’ve come to grips with everything, it really is an inspirational story. These last ten weeks have been wonderful, seeing you come out of your shell. I’m very happy for you.”

Ella grinned. “Thank you.”

“And still no nightmares?”

Ella smiled, a twinkle in her sea green eyes. “Nope, not a one.”

“Good,” Dr. Samuels said. She paused a moment before asking: “Can I have a hug?”

Ella melted. “Of course you can, we’ve been through a lot together!”

“I know, and I couldn’t be more proud of you!”

Ella was sure she’d never have another nightmare about what had happened at Key Biscayne Junior College again.

She couldn’t help but smile.



EPILOGUE — The Fate of Dr. Tarsal

(Robert Sanders was more than thorough—the doctor who had taken advantage of his sister during her Cheerleader’s Physical Exam had to be dealt with as well. It wasn't that difficult to get the man behind bars, where Dr. Tarsal made a few, ah, friends...

The two men shared a small, ten-foot by ten-foot cell. It contained a wiry twin-sized bunk bed, a small empty bookshelf, and a single exposed toilet. The slender man slept on the top bunk, the fat man on the bottom. During the day, both men followed the same routine: morning formation, breakfast, eight hours on a work detail, dinner, and then three hours to themselves they could spend lifting weights, playing basketball, reading in the library, or any of the other sundry things convicts do these days.

At night, it was very different.

The slender man would climb down off the top bunk, lean over the bottom bunk and pull down his drawers. The fat man would giggle liked a little schoolgirl—he always giggled—as he rolled out of his bunk and crawled over behind the trembling, skinny man.

The fat man would pull down his trunks, releasing a short fat uncircumcised cock that was always hard and always ready. Positioned behind, he would line up and drive it home, taking that ass.

Every. Single. Day.

Initially, the slender man had resisted.

On his first night, he had refused the offer, opted instead to stay in his bunk; the next morning, in the shower, three men pinned him in the corner and beat the shit out of him before throwing him face-down and taking turns, one after the other, corn-holing the new inmate.

On the second night, he refused again; this time, it was six men in the shower, squealing like pigs as they circled him and repeated what had happened the day before.

On the third night, he had finally learned. He climbed down, swallowed his pride, and bent over. Abject humiliation washed over him as he laid there; apprehension mixed with inevitability and disgust as he bent over, squeezing his anus tightly shut, waiting for it to happen.

And it always happened.

At first, the fat man came quickly. The skinny ass was so tight, he just couldn’t hold back. After a few days, it began to take longer. And longer. And longer. Now, he was up to at least half an hour of pumping before unleashing a heavy load deep in the slender man’s bowels, always with a running commentary. “Squeeze it, bitch” seemed to be his personal favorite, a suggestion he frequently made while slapping the small man’s ass. He was keen to point out that “You’re getting’ a lot better at this, boy” and often suggested “You gonna learn to suck cock,” just as he fired his load.

After two months of this, Tarsal was starting to get used to it. His rectum was stretched to the point that he could mostly tolerate the abuse he received after lights out every night.

He rarely bled anymore.

Most importantly, the former doctor never thought about touching schoolgirls ever again.


REMEMBER: It’s only fantasy.
WOW!

What a series! You have some really talented writing skills - perhaps you should pursue something in writing - or perhaps you are, because it is being evidently used! Sorry for the late reply. I hope you continue with more writing . This was EXCELLENT.
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Old 05-25-2008, 03:41 PM   #4
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WOW!

What a series! You have some really talented writing skills - perhaps you should pursue something in writing - or perhaps you are, because it is being evidently used! Sorry for the late reply. I hope you continue with more writing . This was EXCELLENT.
Thanks! I have another couple of stories, but they're probably a little vanilla for the rape board. I have a couple other story ideas floating around, maybe they'll make it here one of these days...
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