Consequences

[rgrove0172]

“Consequences”

“What a sweet girl.” That’s how almost anyone in my home town would have responded had you mentioned my name. Looking back I suppose I was the embodiment of the innocent, fresh-faced and naïve teen-aged girl. In some strange way I guess I knew that and embraced the role with a flourish, always smiling, always sweet, always sickeningly cute to be honest.
I was cute though, physically I mean and not just as a projection of my personality. I got plenty of attention from people, guys especially, who didn’t even know me beyond what they saw. I was blonde, fair, and enjoyed a naturally graceful build that only youth can provide. I had always been told I was pretty but had only recently begun to see it myself as the little girl freckles faded and the face and body in the mirror became more womanly seemingly overnight with my eighteenth birthday. I dressed conservatively, my reputation was a concern after all, but as most teen-aged girls I made sure what I wore was parent-acceptable but with an eye toward a flattering fit. My jeans were a bit more than snug in other words and my blouses selected to accentuate a developing bust line. The result was that I had no shortage of admirers, but as appropriate for a well-bred church-going girl, I enjoyed their pursuit but maintained their distance.
I was popular too, involved in so many activities that one could hardly attend anything in our little town without bumping into me. It was exhausting but all part of the role I was determined to play out. Student council, FFA, Glee Club, theatre, tennis and a multitude of church functions kept me constantly on the go and in the public eye, and yes I had been Harvest Queen my Sophomore and Junior year back to back. Prom Queen had so far eluded me but as a Senior there was already talk that I was one to watch.
I’m telling you all of this not to brag, none of it means a thing now so many years later, but to introduce you to the girl I was, to give you some understanding of the girl of that summer, thirteen years ago. Without that understanding the situation and events I’m about to relate won’t have the impact they should. Keeping a firm grasp of who that girl was is critical in appreciating fully the events of July 18, 2001.
To tell that story however I have to back up to almost a month before. I had spent a Sunday morning, as I always did, working at our church’s nursery, chasing toddlers while their parents sang their praises. As the service ended and the expected throng of parents began to file in for their offspring, Mr. Lowery, my father’s boss, appeared in my room. I was confused at first as the old man didn’t have any children or grandchildren that I could recall and although not really a close friend of the family, my father had worked for him for more than 5 years and I thought I knew him pretty well.
As it turned out he wasn’t looking for a child, but for me. We exchanged a few pleasantries while I bounced a 3-year old on my knee and finally he explained the purpose of his visit. He and his wife were to attend a function, a conference or something, and would be out of town for several days. His wife was uneasy about leaving their place unattended and had asked him to arrange for a house sitter. When he had mentioned this to my father, good ole’ Dad had offered me up.
Inwardly I frowned at first, house sitting? It was summer and besides my regular activities and a part time job as a waitress at a local café I still tried to have a social life when I could. This would mean neglecting plans I had been looking forward to for weeks, a trip to a nearby lake and sparking the attention of a certain boy among them. I didn’t have a regular boyfriend but was seriously considering giving this particularly cute boy the chance, for the summer anyway. Keeping the boys at a distance was a challenge, and certainly kept my father happy but could be misconceived as just being stuck-up, or worse. A regular guy for the summer would maintain my reputation and keep me from sitting home alone when I wasn’t working, or worse having to pay my own way when I went out! The lake was going to provide the perfect opportunity to turn on the charm and let my guard down a little, just enough to rope the cutie in.
In comparison, spending a week stuck in some stuffy house feeding somebody’s dog and watching game shows did not sound like fun at all. My attitude changed instantly however when the old man filled in the details. He promised Fifty dollars a day, two-hundred and fifty dollars for the week, and of course use of their pool and hot tub. I bubbled up with my typical girly enthusiasm and agreed instantly. It would probably be boring but I would end the week with a tan, a purse full of cash and a good story about being cooped up all week to gain the sympathy of that soon-to-be boyfriend.
The Lowery’s were rich, not of the extreme West Texas oil variety, but were more than just well off. I know he owned several businesses like the one my father managed for him and he had property all over town. He was a big contributor too, presenting a check for ten thousand dollars towards our high school’s new athletic track a year before. Their name came up every year during charity drives and Mr. Lowery had been declared the Grand Marshal of our Christmas parade that past December. I was a cute little fixture around town while Mr. Lowery was a power. It was a strange and unfortunate set of circumstances that would bring the two of us together.
My parents were thrilled with the opportunity when I told them about it during lunch after church, my father especially perking up at the chance to get in good with his boss. Dad had been the manager of West Transit for several years but there had been talk about him stepping up to regional manager. Mr. Lowery had built three or four new offices in our part of the state and it would be a big deal for Dad and our family. We were solidly entrenched in what my economics teacher called the ‘American Middle Class’, which basically meant we weren’t poor enough to qualify for financial assistance but not rich enough to live without worrying. My father’s promotion to manager had helped but my older brother’s college tuition and my plans to attend the university as well were a burden. Regional Manager would be a step toward “easy street”, or so my father promised.
Monday morning I arrived bright and early at the Lowery’s place. I had been there before for a couple company Christmas parties but it was still impressive. The big stucco ranch house stood a good half mile from the main road in a rural stretch of housing between the city limits and the oil fields. The neighbors looked like they were doing pretty well too, enough to keep a few acres between their elaborate homes but the Lowery place stood out for sure. It had that western ranch look to it, all woodwork and carved stone, but it was a modern building with all the bells and whistles. An intercom would get you buzzed in at the gate, there were several satellite dishes on the roof and a windmill provided power from its perch in the pasture nearby. The manicured lawn was green despite the heat and shaded by dozens of beautiful shrubs and towering trees. I could only dream of living in a place like that someday.
Mrs. Lowery let me in with a sincere hug and thanked me repeatedly for agreeing to the arrangement. My Dad’s boss made an appearance and shook my hand but was busy on the phone during the next half an hour while his wife gave me a tour, explaining her many, many concerns and her expectations on my stay. In the end I was glad to see them finally just go, her big Lexus packed like they would be gone for a month speeding down the drive in a cloud of caliche dust.
I had a few ‘chores’ that I would have to keep up during the week but otherwise I prepared for a life of leisure. Thinking back now I would love to have the opportunity again, to lie around and soak up some sun, watch a few movies on a huge plasma screen, make good use of a fully stocked freezer of expensive steaks and bask in a whirlpool bathtub the size of my pickup bed. At the time however, and at that age, it was pretty lame stuff. The boredom would cost me, cost me plenty.
So I took a swim first, the dust of their leaving barely settling before I was in my suit and diving in. It was a huge, beautiful pool complete with rock ornamentation and little falls at one end with a hot tub adjoining. Afterward I tanned for a while, lying on a cushy lounger and listening to a stereo system piped out from the house. Lunch was next and then some television and then more swimming. It was great for a few hours but by mid-afternoon I was already beginning to regret my stay.
“A whole week?” I questioned aloud while standing in their massive kitchen with a damp towel and a soda in my hands. I had made several promises that I was already regretting too. I promised to not have anybody over, no friends, just family. I wasn’t to touch their liquor cabinet, not that I would have anyway. Mr. Lowery’s cars, several vintage and really expensive models locked up in the garage, were off limits and I was forbidden to rent anything inappropriate on their satellite. “Right! As if.” I thought, actually laughing at the thought of me renting porn or something.
Now don’t misunderstand, I wasn’t a complete prude, I was maturing normally of course and had my own little private teen-age curiosities, but was a pretty darn innocent eighteen year old for the most part. I had made out, sometimes a bit heavier than intended, with a couple of school boys but it had never progressed beyond kissing, groping and panting. I knew some of my friends had done much more and was even criticized by them for my reluctance. A few had tagged me ‘preacher girl’ for a bit last school year but it honestly wasn’t religion that had kept me so chaste. Instead it was a kind of prissy pride. I understood I had something special to share and I would only be able to really share it like that once. I didn’t mind waiting, besides, it was kind of fun to see the boys paw and beg for something and know they didn’t have a chance of getting it. It would have been cruel had I acted like some other girls that used that power in a sl*tty, teasing way but I wasn’t like that. I never teased, never gave the slightest hope to those I dated, but I couldn’t help what they thought on their own or how hard they tried could I?
Porn though? Not even a consideration. I was curious sure but the idea of someone, anyone, finding out I had watched something vulgar like that was mortifying, enough to dampen whatever curiosity I might experience. Besides, if I had to be completely honest with myself, that stuff embarrassed me. Call me a goody-goody but anything approaching open sexuality was still pretty uncomfortable for me, I laughed if exposed to it but inwardly felt like closing my eyes and blushing.
So with no friends, no booze, and no porn, just what was I going to do? I laughed at phrasing the question in such an out of character way and chided myself for being such a ‘priss’. So I set out to find something to occupy my time and did manage to keep busy the rest of the evening but wound up settling into bed early after a long and completely boring phone conversation with my mother. “What a wild start to a long week.” I thought contemptuously as I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning I was awakened by a call from Tracy my closest friend who was even then preparing to meet the others for the lake trip I had been so looking forward to. She razzed me hard on not being able to come but I played up the money and luxuries I was enjoying, not wanting to sound like a whiney kid. She saw through my bluff though, she always did, and promised as she signed off sympathetically not to have too much fun without me and to keep her hands off my boyfriend. I stared hard at the phone open mouthed. I hadn’t even mentioned the boy before but somehow she had guessed my intentions! We were like that, closer than sisters. I laughed and told her not to worry that he would be mine whenever I felt like it and hung up giggling, feeling miserable.
By ten o’clock I was going crazy, lying on an inflatable raft in the middle of that huge pool all I could think about was the lake and what I was missing out on. Desperate to just get busy doing something I made the hasty decision to go exploring. Yes, Mrs. Lowery had given me the tour but an “open the door and point” version only. It was a big house and although I knew it wasn’t appropriate at all, I needed a distraction and some snooping might just be thing. I dried off, slipped a pair of shorts on over my suit and got started.
The place was beautiful, lots of expensive furnishings, artwork and antiques and it was immaculately decorated of course but pretty darned uninteresting too. That is until I checked out Mr. Lowery’s office. It was locked when I first came across the door which instantly peaked my curiosity. I half imagined one of those dungeon rooms in there with whips and hand cuffs hanging from the wall and had a fit of giggles when the image of Mr. Lowery being spanked by Mrs. Lowery in a latex suit popped into my head. I had heard about rich people being into such things. I was mildly disappointed though when after finally finding a spare key hanging on a ring in the den I discovered a plain old office instead.
The computer was protected with a password, his desk was completely locked (no spare key there) and the shelves were full of incredibly boring ledgers and books on military history. I was about to turn my back on the useless discovery when I noticed a little gym bag, tucked back behind a filing cabinet in the corner. It was a plain, uninteresting red bag with a familiar logo on the side but I was curious. Mr. Lowery was a fairly fit old guy I supposed but not the gym type at all. What was in there?
Money! When I pulled back the zipper I found myself staring at more cash than I ever seen in my life. It was stuffed with fat little rolls of rubber-band bound money, all denominations. Twenties, fifties and even hundreds were all jammed into that little bag to bursting. There were other wads of mixed bills too, tens and fives and singles all rolled up together.
“What the heck?” I asked myself as I stood there looking down at what I guessed was tens of thousands of dollars, maybe more. It seemed stupid to keep this kind of money lying around the house. Rich people never paid in cash anyway, did they? I sat down and fingered through the rolls again, shaking my head. There was so much money just carelessly lying there in a bag when so many other people are struggling just to get by. We were struggling to get by I thought, I was struggling! I had to work through the school year and the summer when others were out having a blast. It wasn’t fair, this was probably some secret little mad-money stash Mr. Lowery kept from his wife, to waste on who knows what. I could imagine him blowing it on one more car for his collection or another thousand dollar golf club or something. It was ‘chump change’ to him. Snapping off the rubber band on one of the mixed rolls, I counted the bills.
There was $2700 spread out on the floor in front of me, just one little roll amid so many had enough cash to make a huge difference in my life. I clicked through a mental checklist; new boots, jeans, that purse I had been looking at, a real leather jacket, gas in my truck for months, and the new cell phone I had been begging for. Of course I couldn’t just go out and buy these things, I would have to be careful, patient, devious, coming up with believable explanations as to how I was making these purchases without revealing my sudden windfall but I bet I could do it. I stopped, suddenly shocked at what I had been thinking. Without knowing it I was already planning how to use this money, money I hadn’t even stolen yet. But I was going to wasn’t I? I had made that decision in the first few minutes after opening the bag. Stealing, really? I hadn’t been brought up that way and I couldn’t imagine myself ever doing something like that, not really.
So I left the bag alone, went back to wandering and swimming and snacking and dozing in front of the television but I came back to it that night, and the next day, and the next evening and again the day after that. I kept telling myself I would come to my senses, finally beat back the temptation but each time I looked at that carelessly stored bundle of wealth it just got worse. By Thursday of that week I had made up my mind. That one fat little roll of cash was coming home with me.
My parents had come by a couple times to visit briefly during the week. They were just checking on me of course and under different circumstances I suppose I would have been grateful for the company but when they showed up Thursday I was uncomfortable the whole time, wishing every second they would just go. The money was still there in the office but somehow I thought they would sense my decision, clue in somehow that their sweet little daughter was a thief, or about to be. I hated keeping things from my parents but this was different, this was big. The guilt was overwhelming though and I honestly felt they would have to notice something was wrong.
They didn’t though, and they eventually left, congratulating me on almost finishing my job. The Lowery’s were to return the next day and with them their gratitude and my check. My Dad gave me a big hug before he left, looking eye to eye with me and exclaiming how proud he was of me and how much this might mean to the family’s future. I smiled and told him it was no big deal, returning his hug ashamedly. I waved from the porch as they drove off, grateful that their own cloud of caliche dust would mask the guilty tears falling down my face. I spun and walked smartly back into the house, a surge of willpower returning along with some token of the honor I had temporarily let greed displace. The money would stay right where it was. That was that!
But it wasn’t that and it didn’t stay. Early that next morning, after taking some time to tidy up the place in preparation for the Lowery’s return, I shoved that little, seemingly unnoticeable, roll of money deep into the corner of my purse wrapped up in a bundle of tissues. I spent the next couple of hours rehearsing what I would say, reinforcing my composure, and promising myself I would give no clue whatsoever that anything was wrong at all when the owners came home.
I was brilliant. I had the advantage of having been active in theatre for several years and I played the part I needed to play. I was a terrible liar when confronted but I could hold a straight face if not under too much suspicion. I was the ever-so-grateful little teenager, so eager to please and concerned about every little detail, praying that they were happy with the job I had done for them. I played the part so well in fact that after a few minutes Mr. Lowery actually started hedging me to leave, my obsessions about how little food I had eaten, the condition of the pool, my keeping the place clean and my repeated appreciation reaching annoying levels. His wife was gracious however and it raised a little lump in my throat when she made her husband add an extra $50 to the amount they owed me. She hugged me in a motherly sort of way and I almost choked when she added, “You’re like the daughter we never had hun.” I left their home feeling relieved but guiltier than I had my entire life.
Over the next few days I reconsidered what I had done constantly. I actually brought myself to the decision of returning the money at one point before considering the horrible implications in it. Even a commendable act of conscience at this point could be disastrous. They might forgive me, and then again they might not. Unlike when you’re a child, saying “I’m sorry” does not make everything better. This was a big deal, a “go to jail” kind of deal, not to mention my destroyed reputation and the affect on my family. There was no going back, I had made my decision and I had to live with it. The trick was now to not make a mistake, play it very cool and very smart. I would sit on the money till winter at least. The guilt would surely fade, given time.
Alter that same weekend my father stopped in at the little café where I worked on his way home late from work. I had been waiting tables for most of the afternoon and was about to clock off when he popped his head in the door. Ordering a slice of pie my mother would probably not have approved of, he swore me to secrecy on it then mentioned that Mr. Lowery needed to see me before I went home. I had forgotten something it seemed and he suggested I swing by and pick it up that night. I smiled and said sure but my guts cramped instantly. What did he want?
The drive to their home was torturous. I figured the likelihood of this visit being related to the money I took was slim to none as discovery of that missing cash would certainly have played out differently than this. For one, the police would have stopped by the café instead of my father. But having to face the Lowery’s again though, so soon, was terrifying. I might well have forgotten something I told myself, a ponytail holder, a pair of socks in the laundry room, anything was possible. That’s all this was about, it had to be. I tried to suppress the agonizing feeling though that somehow they would know, they would take one look at me when I arrived and this time it would be obvious. By the time I reached the house my heart was racing, I sat there parked in their drive for several minutes, praying they wouldn’t notice me out there, trying to regain my composure.
As I waited for my nerves to ease I noticed Mr. Lowery’s pickup was in the carport but the Lexus was gone. In its place was a big crew cab truck I didn’t recognize. They wouldn’t have invited me over if they weren’t going to be here, I thought, and whose truck was that anyway? This wasn’t a major concern at the time but the questions momentarily distracted me from my anxiety. Finally, with one deep ragged breath I got out of the car, strode up the walk and rang the doorbell.
There was a short delay then Mr. Lowery met me at the door with the usual friendly smile. With that smile welcome relief washed over me. Feeling instantly better I followed him in. The house was dark but for the lights in the kitchen off to our right and I was a little nervous that perhaps Mrs. Lowery was already in bed, immediately dropping my voice to a whisper. He laughed and directed me towards the kitchen, laying my concerns to rest. Mrs. Lowery was at her sister’s place for the weekend, he explained, and then motioned me to sit down.
There on the kitchen table where I sat was a pair of my thong sandals and I immediately remembered I had left them by the pool the weekend before. I sn*tched them up and apologized, thanking him and made to stand and leave but he placed a hand on my shoulder and in a startling display of force sat me back down. I looked up a little shocked and hurt by the rudeness of the act and confronted an expression I didn’t understand.
Gone was the happy, friendly smile and kind eyes I was accustomed to. He looked sad now, even a little upset, like he was about to do something distasteful but had no choice. He licked his lips several times then told me he had just gotten off the phone with my father. He had explained he needed my help with some cleaning in the garage for a while that evening so we had time to talk.
He looked at me grimly “And we are going to need some time.”
He motioned to an envelope I had noticed lying there on the kitchen table but had paid no attention to earlier.
“Open it.” He said flatly
So I did, bewildered by the weird change of mood but privately, way down inside somewhere, I was trembling in fear for what this change in attitude probably meant. From the envelope I withdrew a clearly printed photo, apparently taken from a video. It showed me holding the red gym bag in one hand while my other grasped a tightly bound wad of cash. I was caught.
Security cameras, of course there would be security cameras. I suddenly felt as foolish as I did guilty but even more I was terrified. I looked up at him, tears instantly forming and I started to mouth an apology but he just shook his head and placed a hand over my mouth to silence me.
“I don’t want to hear it Shaylee. There is nothing you can say that I want hear right now.” He looked and sounded mournful instead of angry and somehow that was worse. “What you’ve done goes beyond betraying our trust, this is bad, a very bad mistake and I’m afraid there will have to be consequences.”
I did manage to squeak out an apology this time before he continued unhearing.
“I haven’t called the police yet but I will, I owe your father a little advanced warning first. You should make that phone call though. I think it’s only appropriate as it is your actions that will cost him his job. “
My tear-filled eyes suddenly widened.
“His job?” I questioned, my voice cracking under the strain and impending sobs. “I don’t understand.”
“I can’t very well put my branch manager’s daughter in jail and allow him to continue to work for me Shaylee, can I? It’s a conflict of interest. No, darling this little stunt of yours is going to have serious repercussions. I would think a smart girl like you would have considered all that before robbing me.”
I sat there my chest heaving, the emotion welling up inside, looking up at him and realizing fully the enormity of what he was saying, the price my family was about to pay for my poor judgment. I sobbed, trying unsuccessfully to stifle my whimpering. Blubbering, I promised to pay all the money back, offered to give him the money they paid me back too. I swore to work for them at no charge, cleaning or whatever for as long as they needed. I went on and on in a sniffling, gasping fit of apologies, not acting anymore but in sheer panic at the realization of what this would mean.
I would end up in jail or at best on probation and my father would be out of work. It would be publicized of course and everyone at school, our church, heck our whole town would know! The humiliation of such a thing occurring in a small town, the Harvest queen bound for prison for larceny, her parents forced to move unemployed and broke, was beyond comprehension. This couldn’t happen, it couldn’t, my petitions slurred into one long pleading cry for forgiveness.
Mr. Lowery stood there above me silent. He looked down patiently and waited for my weeping to subside. When I finally regained control of myself I looked back at him, his pause giving me a faint hope that perhaps he was reconsidering. His face had undergone yet another change, this one worried me. There was an inexplicably playful edge to his expression now but a cruel one. He smiled mischievously at me, tipping his head to one side for emphasis.
“Do you think there might be another way to make this right Shaylee?”
I nodded hurriedly, my shoulders shaking with conviction.
“Hmm, well, maybe there is.” He followed hesitatingly. “There is so much at stake here, maybe we can come to an agreement of some kind.”
Again I nodded, sniffing hard, wiping away tears and sensing a slim ray of hope.
He knelt down in front of me then, taking my hands in his but gripping them hard, painfully hard. His big ranch-worked hands enveloped mine and I grimaced, pulling back but not able to free myself from that iron grasp.
“Shaylee, if you want to avoid having your father out there in the field again, at his age and with that back of his, you will listen. If you want to not have every person you’ve ever known in this town look down at you like some piece of trash, you will listen. If you want to avoid jail and having a different dyke finger your ass and make you eat her pussy every night you will listen. Got me?”
I got him, I got him completely. His unbelievable vulgarity had hit me like a splash of cold water and the tears stopped. I was all ears now, shocked and scared to death but listening, bent on every word. I had to get this right, whatever he was talking about, there was no room, no room at all for another mistake.
I shook my head yes but he made me say it.
“Yes sir” I croaked, swallowing hard again.
“Good, so this is what you are going to do. For the next couple of hours you are going to do every fucking thing I say in exactly the fucking way I say it. Right?”
Again the profanity startled me, I had never heard this man cuss, ever. I replied “right” without so much a thought as to what it portended. He continued.
“If you don’t, or even so much as hesitate when I tell you to do something, the deal is off and I call the cops immediately. You won’t even go home tonight, I promise you that. Do you understand?
Again I agreed, blindly.
“Ok!” he exclaimed, a big smile on his face again as he tipped my chin up with a huge hand. “We are good to go then! You go on back in the spare bedroom there and put on what is laid out on the bed. I‘ll go have a beer in the living room, come on in when you’re ready.”
He turned around and vanished down the dark hallway before I could even react. It was fortunate he didn’t wait I guess because I didn’t react, couldn’t, not at first. I just sat there, my mouth open and my mind blank. “What the hell had he just said?” I wondered in disbelief. He wanted me to wear something?
I was suffering from a little shock I thought, the rapid flow of recent events overwhelming me. From certain doom and destruction to a sudden reprieve and now this weird request all in the matter of a couple minutes. I wasn’t sure what to think, wasn’t thinking at all really. Having no real choice though, I got up and slipped down the hall in the other direction towards the light of the spare bedroom showing beneath the door.
Opening the door I found the room as I remembered it, having slept there during the week of my stay. There was a one major difference though. On the bed, laid out carefully, were several pieces of lingerie, the kind you see in a magazine or maybe a racy movie but I didn’t think anybody really wore. That was how I viewed them at the time, the sexy undergarments on the bed were as foreign to me then as a space suit.
A pair of white lace panties lay next to a sheer and short baby-doll teddy. There were white net stockings with garters and a slinky mid-thigh, long sleeved robe of some absolutely transparent gauzy-white material. Lastly a pair of white high-heels waited on the floor, higher heels than I had ever imagined. Together they represented an image so outlandish that I just stared in awe.
“Is he kidding?” I thought standing there. Just what the heck was he thinking? He was crazy if he thought I would let ANYBODY see me in something like that. Somewhere deep down the idea of wearing lingerie for my future husband or even a really special boyfriend someday had occurred to me before of course but marching out in front of my dad’s boss, or any stranger for that matter, was totally inconceivable. For the first time I began to suspect what his real intentions might be and a shiver of fear entered into my already wild mix of emotions. The idea of what Mr. Lowery might actually have in mind for me tightened my throat, making it hard to swallow. Was he going to make me do it, have sex with him?
“No way.” I actually said aloud, although in a whisper. He wouldn’t dare, I was still in school and he was, well really old and knew my Dad and everything. I couldn’t even think of him in that way. He was more like a grandpa than anything else. Looking at what he wanted to see me wear made me ill. This couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t be serious. Even if he was though, I wouldn’t do it, I wouldn’t!
Confirming his sick plan, whatever it was, was not going to happen I considered my options instead, and came up empty. I couldn’t run, couldn’t tell, couldn’t fight or whine my way out of this and I got the feeling any attempt at negotiating would be pointless. I sobbed again quietly, standing there long enough that I began to wonder if he would come get me if I didn’t appear soon. The idea that he may actually try to have sex with me was so unreal, so unimaginable that I had a hard time accepting that I might actually have to confront it.
Sex had been something I had thought about of course, planned on even, but it was still a distant discovery. Confronted with it here and now like this, with him, was almost more than I could handle. It wouldn’t happen, I told myself again, he wouldn’t do it, he couldn’t. It had to be something else, I forced myself to accept, some sick and kinky game obviously but not that. I wouldn’t let it come to that. Resigning myself to at least having to play along to some extent however was one of the most difficult decisions I had made in my life. I took a deep breath and I pulled off my t-shirt, unsnapped my shorts, and kicked off my sneakers all the while grasping frantically for some way out.
The lingerie fit, but barely. It was brand new, a tag still hanging from the robe, and I supposed in a sort of gross realization that he had me in mind when he had bought it. It was a bit small however, the panties stretching to fit around even my hips and butt and the baby doll snugged up tightly to my boobs indecently. I was thin sure but had begun to blossom over the past couple of years. My bust line hadn’t increased as much as I would have liked but it was improving while my bottom was maturing at a sometimes embarrassing rate. My own underwear barely fit anymore, forcing me to move up a size, but the panties he had laid out were tight and left no room for modesty whatsoever. The baby doll bodice wasn’t much better, all but transparent but including an underwire that lifted and cradled even my smallish bosom suggestively. The hose and garters were next and totally unfamiliar but I managed to get them right. The shoes actually did fit but I stumbled when taking the first step in them, unfamiliar with anything so garish as those monster stilettos. I finished dressing with the robe, sliding my arms into the gossamer sleeves and tying the wisp of a belt around my waist. It was like wearing smoke, concealing nothing but instead accentuated the next-to-nothing I had on underneath. Slowly I turned to the mirror above the dresser, privately curious.
I actually tore my gaze away with a jolt, completely embarrassed by what I saw, but then cautiously looked back. The girl staring back at me in the mirror was a complete stranger. My legs seemed ridiculously long in the high cut panties and heels. My boobs looked at least a size bigger than they were, smashed into that underwire and forming cleavage I had never seen before. The garters and stockings lent a naughty, sexy aspect to a girl I knew without any of those qualities. It was humiliating but alluring, even to me. I was entranced by the sight and would have stood there gawking longer had a voice not echoed from the living room.
“Shaylee! It’s time to get in here honey. We don’t have a problem do we?”
Gone was the fascination, the allure and the strange curiosity. The stomach-twisting fear was back in a lurch. If I was going to escape this I had to come up with something fast, there was no more time to stall.
“I have to walk in there like this first.” I told myself, not sure if it was still a question or a pronouncement. There was no avoiding that, but God the thought of it caught my breath. Some naive part of me still insisted that it couldn’t be leading to what I suspected. If I just went along it wouldn’t be so bad, it would all work out somehow.
“Take it one step at a time.” I told myself, gritting my teeth. Without really realizing it I pulled the band from my ponytail and raked out my hair, combing some of the heavier sun-bleached curls forward across my shoulders, reaching but not quiet covering my bust. I stepped gingerly into the dark hall and toward the living room, balancing on the ridiculous heels, the dark holding no fear but the eminent exposure sending a cold shiver down my spine.
The room was completely dark. The d****s had been pulled on the massive glass doors leading to the patio and pool outside. There was a trickle of moonlight stealing in through a crack here and there but my eyes were still adjusting from the bright bedroom and I could make out nothing. Evidently Mr. Lowery could see me fine however as he spoke from the far side of the room as I entered.
“Well now, that’s fine Shaylee, that’s a girl. Come on in, just a bit more, now stop right there hun. I know it’s dark but right there will work for now.”
I was standing effectively in the middle of the large living area, surrounded I remembered by a few lush recliners and a huge sofa. The large glass coffee table usually at the center was gone, otherwise I would have been nearly standing on it. My eyes slowly started to adjust and as the features of the room began to take shape I almost screamed. There were men sitting in the recliners, several of them! I stiffened, my breath catching painfully in my chest. My throat tightened in a hysterical squeek, my hands flew up to cover myself and I nearly bolted from the room when Mr. Lowery stopped me with a shout.
“Don’t you even think about it little lady! You keep your happy little ass right there and your mouth shut! We had a deal, remember? I can dial 911 before you even get to the door honey. Try and fuck me over and you and your family are done.”
It worked, his menacing tone I mean, instantly reminding me of the hopelessness of the situation and my secured compliance. I wanted to run but all the strength left my legs and I almost fell instead. Again my mind raced through the choices available to me and I was confronted with the same outcome as before. There was nothing I could do, no way to influence the situation, no way to alter the payment I was about to make for my own bad judgment.
I remember feeling slightly relieved too though, in the midst of the embarrassment and humiliation, that the nightmare of sex with Mr. Lowery might not be forthcoming. With these other men here, each well dressed and professional looking, sipping drinks as they observed quietly, the situation was taking on a different feeling entirely. It was no less humiliating honestly, perhaps more so, but not nearly as terrifying as being ****d by Mr. Lowery. I was so naïve.
“These are business associates of mine Shaylee.” Mr. Lowery announced from the bar as he stood to pour himself a refill. “Dear friends of mine too who have agreed to help me, help you really, reach a solution to this little situation we are dealing with. Don’t worry; they can all be trusted to keep this arrangement our little secret. Once the evening is concluded you can go home without fear of any further complications, on that we are all in agreement. Aren’t we boys?”
There was a slow murmur among the men as they nodded. They met my furtive gaze openly as I scanned the room but quickly returned their attentions to what I was futilely trying to cover with my hands. There were four of them altogether, one distinguished looking guy with thick gray hair and glasses resting back in his chair, legs crossed, completely relaxed as he sipped at his glass. Another man, a heavy set guy in his fifties I guessed, sat beside him leering unashamedly, his hands working his knees in barely constrained excitement. Near the window was a tall rancher type, his skin browned from the sun and wrinkled from probably sixty years. He took his cowboy hat off as I looked at him and actually tipped it my way with a perverse smile. The last man, sitting near Mr. Lowery at the little bar in the corner, was leaning forward fixated, almost appraising me. He was younger, in his forties I think, and would have been almost cute but for the intense way he looked at me. His gaze was the most uncomfortable of all of them because he seemed to be inspecting me somehow, the real me underneath, instead of this dressed up doll Lowery had provided.
“Relax honey” the big rancher eased with a twang “It aint like we’re gonna jump you or nothin. We’re here for a little fun, that’s all!”
His promise was meant to be reassuring but it had the opposite effect. I knew what a gang-bang was and up until his “jump you” statement I hadn’t given that possibility a thought. Their presence had seemed a deterrent at first, removing the possibility of Mr. Lowery taking advantage of me completely, but now I saw that wasn’t the case at all. Despite what he said there was a very real chance I would lose my carefully guarded virginity that night, lose it in a horrible orgy of grasping hands, leering faces and animal lust. I felt suddenly exposed, more naked even than standing there in lingerie on exhibit. I was being stripped of my will, my choice and my innocence as surely as I was my dignity. I started to cry, shamed by the tears as much as by their gawking. I covered my face and hoped somewhere the pitiful display would earn me some compassion. When I glanced up however what I found was the fat guy smiling, laughing silently, his big belly jiggling.
The sight kindled a sudden fire in me, flaring my emotion in a way I didn’t expect at all. It pissed me off! Who was this fat son-of-a-b*tch to sit there and laugh while I bawled my eyes out? Who were any of them to kick back with their booze and stare as a young girl was victimized. The anger was surprising but welcome. I’m not known as the hot-headed type but I can show a temper. Up till now I had been consumed with guilt, regret, fear and embarrassment but this new emotion brought back a spark of dignity. My situation was hopeless yes, I had accepted that, but I didn’t have to weep and blubber like some abused child. Whatever they took from me, there weren’t going to see me groveling, not anymore.
I glared at the fat guy then turned to Mr. Lowery. I tried to straighten up to regain my composure but it was difficult while keeping one hand across my bust and another covering my crotch. I managed it though and tilted my chin up in a show of self-respect.
“Mr. Lowery” I said, voice still quivering but with what I hoped was a confident air. “I know we made a deal and I guess I have to go along with it, but getting hurt isn’t part of it. I’d rather go to jail for the rest of my life than let you do that to me.”
The room was very quiet for what seemed like minutes but was only a few seconds I’m sure. When Mr. Lowery responded his voice was flat, matter of fact, but with perhaps just a touch of kindness.
“Shaylee, we aren’t monsters. What Mr. Kelmore said was right on. We’re gonna have a little fun at your expense sure enough darlin, you earned that, but nobody is going to hurt you. That’s a promise. You’re damned right though that we have a deal and you’re absolutely going to go through with it so the quicker you calm yourself down and get to it, the better. Hell you might just find yourself having a little fun too if you let yourself.”
Inwardly I felt a deep sigh of relief. “Fun?” not likely but it did seem as though my biggest fear could be put behind me. They could do whatever they wanted, promises or no, but there was a sincerity in Mr. Lowery’s voice, and in the expressions of the others (accept for the fat guy who seemed to visibly disappointed) that made me actually believe him. I nodded looking back at Mr. Lowery and blinked away the last few tears.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked meekly.
Mr. Lowery smiled, more genuinely than he had all night. Looking at his friends he gestured to them and replied.
“Well, for starters these boys would like a good look at you sweetheart. I have to tell you, you do that fancy outfit proud. I had no idea you were such a fine looking woman Shaylee!”
I blushed, I actually blushed. I would never have admitted it at the time but his praise affected me. He wasn’t calling me ‘cute’ or ‘sweet’ like a kid but appraising me as a woman a “fine looking woman” he had said. I tried not to smile back but I cracked a small one bashfully and he laughed, encouraged.
“So let’s just start with Mr. Matheson over there and let him go first. He tells you how to pose and you do it. Got it?”
I was a little taken aback by the suggestion but quickly recovered. Posing? Strutting around however they told me to?
“God, seriously?” I thought. The terror of possibly being ****d had removed all other concerns and I had almost forgotten about what I was wearing, or more appropriately what I wasn’t wearing. It all came rushing back now, not just the exposed skin but the lewd image the lingerie presented me in. I bit my lip. Now they wanted me to pose in it.
“It isn’t too bad though, just posing. Is it?” I reflected, desperately grasping for some perception that would ease the guilt and humiliation reemerging. I suppose it’s what I should have expected. They dressed me up in that sexy lingerie like one of those girls in a magazine, they weren’t going to let me just stand there covering up. Still, feeling somewhat relieved by their assurances I began to feel fortunate in a strange way. They only wanted me to pose while they watched. It was sick and unbelievably embarrassing but could have been so much worse. Looking at Mr. Lowery I nodded my head subtly.
“Put your hands up in your hair girl, raise your arms sexy-like, you know?” came the first instruction from the quiet guy with glasses. I did so awkwardly and shifted my weight to one hip like I’d seen models do before. They responded with murmurs of approval and the guy with glasses applauded quietly, smiling and dipping his head in mock gratitude.
The big rancher was next, asking me to face away from him, put my hands on my hips and look back over my shoulder. I tried it and felt like one of those old World War II pinup girls, profoundly self conscious of how my panties rode up in the back, clearly visible through the sheer robe. It must have been the look he was aiming for because he let out a low whistle and muttered under his breath.
“You were right Lowery, she is something special. My oh my.”
The younger guy, in pretty good shape for a man his age, took his turn next. He asked me to lie down on my back, bring one knee up and raise myself up on my elbows. It was intimidating lying there on the carpet with all of them leering down at me but I managed it and again there was hushed praise and another whistle from Mr. Kelmore the rancher.
I was completely embarrassed and awkward in my movements, my breathing was rapid and my heart pounded but some of my anxiety was fading. What I was being forced to do was undeniably shameful but with each passing minute a bit less stressful and the posing required me to think and thinking more meant feeling less. I was constantly aware of what I was at risk of revealing with each pose and hastily attempted to readjust the gauzy-nothing of my robe to maintain some illusion of coverage. Concentrating on the mechanics of what I was being asked to do was distracting me. As a result I was slowly becoming more comfortable with the situation, seeing it as a humiliating but necessary means to an end instead of the nightmare of a few minutes before.
When Mr. Lowery gestured to the fat guy to proceed however and he blurted out his own impatient request, it changed dramatically.
“C’mere girl, right here in front of me. I want you to get on your knees, look me right in the eye and shove your hands down the front of those panties.”
Startled and disgusted, I looked at Mr. Lowery for what I half hoped would be an objection, but there was none forthcoming. He just nodded at me, then again more sternly. Sighing I walked tentatively closer to the chubby little freak, his hands still kneading his knee caps as his heels pistoned up and down. I sunk to my knees in front of him feeling suddenly even more shamed and subjugated in that position than at any time yet that evening.
“Do it!” he stage whispered to me, eyes burning with an unsettling kind of passion.
I looked away as I reached down slowly but was firmly reminded I was to make eye contact throughout. Raising my head I looked him right in those hungry, glassy eyes and slid my hands into the clinging material below my naval.
“Deeper.” He ordered “All the way between your legs.”
I spread my legs a bit and reached further, feeling filthy in a way I had never before imagined. He held me there with his gaze for a long time, his eyes pawing over me and locking for long uncomfortable moments on where my hands were.
“You wet?” he asked sneering.
I didn’t respond, my eyes widening a bit in surprise at the vulgarity of the question. He rocked back laughing.
“You brought us a little choir girl didn’t you Lowery?” He asked mockingly, wrapping a chubby hand around his beer can again. “God aint she sweet though?”
Dismissed I stood up, gratefully backing away from the repulsive jerk. As I edged back to the center of the room I was met with another suggestion and the sordid game continued. For the next few minutes I responded to a succession of suggestive instructions, holding a dozen different poses. They were fairly unobtrusive at the beginning but became more immodest as each followed the last. The fat man especially delighted in placing me in poses that were degrading or outright pornographic.
After sitting demurely, legs crossed on a stool for the guy with glasses the fat guy made me get down on all fours, legs spread, with my bottom in his face as I arched my back. He actually got down on the floor behind me, his face inches from my backside as he commented.
“That is one grade-A piece of sweet ass there boys. I don’t think it’s ever seen cock, do you?”
I shut my eyes and bit my lip in silent defiance. The nearness of him back there and the filth he was spilling about me were intolerable. Again I looked around for some sign of objection from the others but they didn’t interfere. I was starting to get the feeling they were permitting him to push me to exploits they weren’t comfortable suggesting themselves but were equally yearning to see. The trail he was blazing though made it easier for them to follow and follow they did.
I was made to lie down spread eagle, spreading my legs as far as I possibly could and then to stand and jump up and down, causing my breasts and butt to bounce wantonly. Each pose was more brazen than the last and seemed contrived to shed my inhibitions in small manageable steps, inexorably leading me to something just a bit further.
It was eventually the fat man of course that breeched the unspoken limitations of the game so far and edged me into something different altogether.
“Ok girl, enough of this teasing, you strip down a little and let’s get a real good look.” He ordered.
There was no reaction from the other men at all, despite the unexpected and considerable escalation. It was clear then that they had been waiting for this moment, playing me, drawing me slowly along. I knew that had he said something like this at first I would have been panic-stricken, perhaps even preferring the police to the sordid exploitation. Having already broken down some of my inhibitions however, abasing myself in the most humiliating of poses for them, it seemed like a disgraceful but manageable indignity. The other’s silence at his direction was a unanimous show of support and I resigned myself once again to what was coming.
I slipped the robe off my shoulders and it cascaded airily to my feet. Hesitating I couldn’t resist a glance at the fat man, leaning forward eagerly in his chair. He nodded then gestured impatiently.
“Fucking do it b*tch, panties or the top next, your choice.”
The slur stung. Up to that point, despite the liberties they were taking, there had been a sort of respectful measure in the way they addressed me. Their requests had been accompanied with ‘please’ and each pose was followed by a show of appreciation. The tone of the situation had just changed however, markedly.
“Let’s go sl*t, enough with the shy act, you know your into this, quit jerking us around.” He followed, sitting back in his chair impatiently and finishing the last of another beer in a sloppy gulp.
Behind me Mr. Lowery spoke up for the first time in several minutes.
“It’s too far to turn back now Shaylee, better to just get on with it. It would be a shame to go through all this and still end up in jail, don’t you think? Not to mention if you bail on us now I’m not so sure I can keep these boys quiet about it.”
His words were painfully effective. How could I turn back now? Jail would be almost a blessing if by fleeing our agreement it left these men free to disclose what had happened here tonight. Sure there was some risk in it for them but as respected business men they could spin the story any number of ways, all of which ruining my reputation and embarrassing my family on a level I couldn’t imagine. Being outted as a thief would have been terrible but confessing to this sleazy performance was beyond comprehension. I could try to deny it but , oh God, the cameras! I suddenly remembered the security cameras. The same ones that caught me with the bag were catching all of this too. It was all being recorded and would could no doubt be published anywhere they liked if I resisted. I realized at that moment that I had willingly removed every protection I thought I enjoyed. From that moment forward I had no choices, there were no more limits.
The fear of what that lack of limits might bring was back, my chest tightening again and my pulse racing but there was a clear feeling of inevitability to it now. I was scared certainly but determined to do what I had to at that point, regardless of what it entailed. The stakes had risen to previously inconceivable levels and required equally inconceivable measures to manage them. I had lost some innocence somewhere back there bending and stretching and spreading for these men, probing my privacy and virtue with leering eyes. I had lost just enough perhaps to allow a more cynical and callous girl to do what was necessary to keep her reputation and freedom intact.
Comically it took longer for me to decide what to remove first than it did to stripping period. It seems ridiculous now but even under the extreme conditions the self consciousness of a teenager was still intact. The idea of removing my panties in front of these men, showing them my most private of areas, was unnerving but it was where my breasts were concerned that I was truly timid. I had bloomed a bit late and even at that age I was still torn between being embarrassed at their sudden growth or that they had not yet grown enough. When wearing anything my first priority was to make sure it fit well up there. I knew my butt looked good in a pair of jeans but I still wasn’t comfortable with my bust line at all. The under-wired teddy had graciously enhanced and somewhat hid me till now but the idea of leaving my breasts uncovered for their eyes was petrifying.
I was still debating this ridiculous choice when the fat man grew impatient.
“Are we gonna see something or not Lowery? I drove six hours for this shit, loosen this b*tch up already!” Then he turned back to me. “Take it off sweetheart or I’ll take it off for you!”
Before I could react Mr. Lowery interjected but not in any way I might have hoped.
“Maybe Mr. Louis has a point Shaylee. I realize this is hard for you. A little help might be a good idea but I don’t think Mr. Louis is the right one to offer it. He seems a bit anxious, don’t you think?” he laughed when he said this but a hard cast of his eyes as he glanced to the fat guy told me there was a warning there. I was subtly relieved that in some way Mr. Lowery was in charge of this presentation and he was maintaining some sort of discipline. The relief would be short lived.
Mr. Lowery turned to the guy with the classes and the younger guy next. “Harvey, Drew? Do you want to do the honors?”
Both men rose instantly, the younger man chiding the fat Mr. Louis for cheating himself of this opportunity. The fat guy spit a slur at him but remained seated, watching intently. The two men approached me and I had to fight not to flinch as they stepped in close, in front and back. Behind me the man with glasses, Harvey I assumed, reached down and grabbed the frilly bottom of the babydoll, rolling the material in his hands and preparing to draw it up. To my front, the younger man knelt down and slowly ran his hands up the sides of my thighs until a couple fingers hooked into the thin waistband of my panties. He must be Drew I thought and the name shot a memory through me like a bolt of electricity.
My father had promoted to manager three years before and replaced his former boss who had taken an even higher position somewhere else. As a silly girl in junior high I hadn’t paid much attention back then to his professional dealings or co-workers but had met a few. As this man prepared to tug my panties down, inches from his face, I suddenly realized I knew him. He was the previous manager, Drew Morrison, my father had introduced us at his promotion party. He had teased and picked on me that evening like a newly discovered uncle. I had liked him, I remembered that, with a sort of crush-like infatuation that only adolescent girls can experience. He had been young, still was, muscular and handsome and had treated me like a young lady instead of a little girl. Now here he was, his face only inches from my tummy, about to pull off my panties.
After combing his eyes over my legs, belly and crotch for several seconds he looked up and made eye contact.
“You remember me don’t you Shaylee.” He stated, not really asking at all. He knew I did. The connection somehow intensified the unbearable intimacy of that moment. This was no stranger but a man I knew, had spoken to, even crushed on. The realization made me nauseous, my legs trembling. What was happening to me was impossible.
In the next second the baby-doll teddy was drawn up briskly, my arms lifting without warning as the material slid up across my waist, my chest, shoulders and finally over my head. Somewhere, dimly sensed amid the sensation of looking through the sheer material as it flowed past my face, I felt the tight fabric of my panties spill down my thighs. The teddy clung to my hair a moment and as I stood there helpless, my arms suspended above me as Harvey fought to free the garment, the falling panties halted. I realized that my garters wouldn’t allow them to be removed independently. I was shocked as Drew then ripped them from my legs effortlessly with a sudden powerful jerk.
The teddy and torn panties were tossed to the couch behind us and I stood there revealed. My hands were slowly returning to my sides but I made no attempt to use them for concealment. Any such gesture would have been pitiful and senseless. The room had become noticeably quiet. Even the fat Mr. Louis had laid his most recently opened beer can aside and merely sat, staring. The two men who had undressed me stepped back, Harvey’s mouth open in what looked like a staged expression of awe.
My breasts, now fully revealed, stood out plainly in the room’s dim light. Firm, white and unrestrained they tingled from the coolness of the room and the ardent exposure. I gasped a little as the effect stiffened my nipples, the supple pink flesh rising visibly and it drew an appreciative hiss from someone. Each breath I took seemed to augment their display, unintentionally panning them up and then down only slightly but the subtle movement was tracked by every eye in the room.
The cool air brought a chill up and inside my thighs as well, introducing the never-before encountered caress of complete exposure to what lay between. Shaving had never been a consideration down there, a light down of white blonde my only covering. Something more substantial might have been comforting as I stood there, my sheer nakedness screaming at me. I could feel their eyes roaming across the white swells of my butt cheeks, along the smooth toned stretch of my hips and belly and then sloping in to the not quite hidden recesses of my koo-chee. The nickname came unbidden to my mind, given by my mother when speaking to womanly cleanliness or privacy. It took on a whole new meaning now as my koo-chee was on full display.
“Oh my God.” Harvey commented finally, dropping breathless back into his chair. There were murmurs of agreement from the others but in hushed, half-stunned tones. I stood there trembling, not knowing exactly what to do as the seconds clicked by. The sensation of being seen nude was almost overwhelming. Would they ask me to pose again? The idea of taking on those provocative positions with only my hose, garters and heels left to me was frightful. But they didn’t ask me to pose. What was suggested however was much worse.
“You’re doing great honey.” Came Mr. Lowery’s voice and I instinctively turned to him before quickly turning back to the windows in a blush, the only direction not occupied by a leering man. He continued. “Now what I’ve got in mind next might be a little difficult for you but I bet you can do it. In fact I know you can, and will, because as we have established Shaylee, you really have no choice.”
He was still using his tone and words as leverage but it really wasn’t necessary. The last fleeting ounce of resistance had fled me minutes before. I felt keenly every second of the exposure, the humiliation, the embarrassment and fear but I no longer had the willpower to even consider refusal.
“You’re going to a little dance for us Shaylee. Nothing too fancy, I know you’re not one of those girls as the strip club but I bet you can do ok if you want to.”
I had thought nothing could have embarrassed me more than what I had already endured but I was wrong. Dance? They wanted me to dance, like this? I could of course, I mean dance normally, but as Mr. Lowery had guessed I had no idea how to dance erotically. That’s what they expected obviously, no matter what Mr. Lowery had said. The very idea of gyrating out there naked uncovered yet unmolested reservoirs of modesty, but he wasn’t finished.
“What you’re going to do is a lap dance hun, one for each of us. You know what that is don’t you?” He had moved from the bar to an open chair, all of them now reclined and waiting this next development casually. The panic gripping me was in stark contrast to the relaxed and confident air they were all exhibiting now, even fat Mr. Louis had settled down, basking in the certainty of my next performance.
I did know what a lap dance was, vaguely. A stripper would pay close attention to one guy specifically, dancing for him close up, sitting on his lap, straddling him and basically rubbing all over him in the hopes of getting a huge tip. I knew what it was and had even seen it on a few R-rated movies but had no idea how to do it. I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to even if I did. The lost look in my eyes must have cued Mr. Lowery because he gave me a nudge.
“Shaylee? You’re going to do this darlin, it really doesn’t matter how good you are at it. The purpose is to show the man a good time and I’m pretty damned sure you can accomplish that if you put your mind and that body into it.” He waited just a few seconds then pointed at the cowboy, Mr. Kelmore. “Now go on over and start with Niles, he’s a good sort, he won’t bite.” He reached beside him and thumbed a remote I knew controlled the electronics in the house including the stereo I had used during my stay. As I moved gingerly toward the sun-browned old rancher, music ebbed into the room, a slow sultry jazz.
I had no idea what I was doing and for the first few seconds just stood there in front of him, slowly, artlessly moving my hips to the beat of the music. I closed my eyes tight, feeling naked and ashamed and ridiculous all at the same time. Trying to shut out the nearness of the man in front of me I willed myself to just move to the music. It was impossible to escape him however. The scents of cologne, whiskey and cigarettes were strong on him and my legs grazed the denim of his levis when I accidentally ambled closer. Startled I opened my eyes and reluctantly returned his gaze, begrudgingly yielding to the realness of what I had to do.
Fuzzy memories began to return to me, images of a stripper I had seen in a movie once. The similarity of my position here in front of this man brought her movements back in growing detail. Closing my eyes again I accentuated the movement of my hips and then dipped down, squatting provocatively between his legs then rose again, my hands on his knees for balance. It was awkward but it didn’t seem to matter. As the moves came to me and I tried nervously to reproduce them the men in the room responded, especially the old rancher beneath me. I pivoted, dipped, swayed and undulated my hips but avoided several movements coming to memory for the sheer vulgarity of them. After a minutes however Mr. Lowery somehow suspected and chastened me with a sharp urging to quit holding back. My hesitancy had been obvious and with another of his threats pushing me I willed myself to let go.
Spinning, I thrust my bottom in the old man’s face and bent fully over with legs spread slightly and rod straight. Looking back at him from between my legs I knew he was looking directly past my butt and fully exposed pussy to meet my gaze. The name “koo-chee” just didn’t seem to fit anymore I realized, what the men were seeing and what was right there in the rancher’s face was my pussy, there was no other way to describe it. He let out a long shrill whistle and there were grunts of approval from all around me. The stunt had shattered another barrier within me and each move thereafter bled what was left of my dignity. I clasped my elbows tightly to either side of my breasts and shook them to the old man’s delight. I raised one leg and perched one of my stiletto heels painfully atop his thigh while grinding my hips to the front and back. As the song neared its end I shocked even myself by turning away and sitting down on his lap. He barked a laugh in approval and brought his big callused hands up to rest on my hips. I looked each man in the room directly in the eye and began to writhe atop him, rolling my hips as he squirmed and fidgeted beneath me. When the song finally ended I stood up and they responded like school boys.
It was if they had somehow forgotten I was a prisoner to the performance. They clapped and whistled openly and both rude and supportive comments assailed me as I stepped back to the center of the room. They might have forgotten the reality of the situation in their lustful exuberance but I had not. Subconsciously combing my hair back from my face with nervous fingers I could hardly believe I had found the nerve, the guts to do what I had done. Now, with the advantages of years, maturity and experience, I can consider the dance I gave him from a completely different perspective than that of the naïve young girl who performed it. In truth it was just suggestive movements and ogling but at the time it was so much more. I can still feel a tinge of what I felt back then, the utter impossibility of it all, the complete separation between the girl I was to my family, friends, church and school and the one I was presenting to those men. This sweet young girl who cared for toddlers every weekend in her church’s nursery was naked but for heels and stockings, bouncing her boobs and strutting her ass in front of a room of strange men, flaunting herself more with each passing minute.
I went to Harvey next, the most demure of the men, and I repeated my performance almost exactly. Despite the convenient memories I had a limited repertoire of moves to draw from and I repeated them mechanically. The song had a faster tempo than the first however and what had been slow and sultry before became more animated and raunchy. Even my small breasts were prone to bounce and jiggle given incentive, intentional or not. My considerably fuller butt wiggled as well when my gyrations became frenzied, much to Harvey’s delight, his glasses actually knocked from his face once when he leaned too close for a look and got butted in the nose.
By the end of Harvey’s dance I was winded but emotionally more composed. I had adapted to the unthinkable in the last hour and had reconciled myself to behavior previously unimaginable. I was becoming grounded now, fully accepting the situation and my place in it, firmly focused on achieving my goal. Whatever the price, even one slowing inflating, I would pay it and walk out of that fucking house a free girl.
My new-found confidence blanched momentarily however when Mr. Lowery gestured me to Mr. Louis next. His grinning visage and pawing hands filled me with revulsion as I reluctantly approached but I forced it down.
“He’s the worst.” I thought to myself as I stepped between his widening legs. “Get this over with and the rest will be easy.”
The music started and I began to move as before, subconsciously maintaining a bit more distance perhaps and I often wonder if it was my obvious avoidance that caused him to react as he did. Without warning he reached out and grabbed me by my waist and pulled me hard against him. I started to squeal out an objection but my breath left me as my chest slammed into his, my pelvis into his groin. He pinned me there, my arms at my side, legs dr aped across the carpet behind me, hanging ragdoll like from a thick hairy arm.
I wrenched my neck aside, frantically looking to Mr. Lowery for help but his expression revealed silent consent. He was watching, sitting back with a fresh drink in his hand and grinning feverishly. Looking back to the fat man I said nothing and resolutely waited for his next move.
“Stand up b*tch.” He ordered coldly, actually raising me up off the floor with a deceptively powerful arm. He kept his hand at the small of my back as I did and drew me close again. His legs clamped in on me at my knees and his wild eyes were fixed only inches from my naked breasts. Pulling me still closer he slid his other hand around to fill it with my ass cheek then tipped his face up and popped my left tit into his mouth.
I quivered there breathless, helpless as he suckled then licked and finally nibbled on my breast. The hand not occupied with kneading my ass came around and clutched my boob firmly, squeezing the nipple to a jutting point before taking it in his mouth again. His hand and lips hurt and I was completely disgusted by him but my nipple reacted instinctively to the stimulation, perking up hard and red. He smiled eagerly when he saw this and began to nibble harder. I winced and whimpered loudly once, unable to tolerate the unfamiliar and painful sensation but it only served to inspire him.
He abruptly spun me around next, the song graciously nearing its end, and drew me back to sit on his lap. His hand reached around and grasped my breasts tightly, squeezing as my knees all but buckled. I could feel him wedged into the flesh of my butt, his hardness, his penis straining under the material of his khakis. The sensation and immediate recognition found yet another remnant of fugitive innocence hiding in my psyche.
“There is a man’s hard cock shoved into the crack of my butt.” I thought disbelieving.
He leaned forward and half-whispered for me to start grinding like with Harvey, pinching my titties hard for emphasis. I replied. With his hands pulling and pinching at my boobs I worked my hips and ground my ass into him. I could feel the intensity building, a change in his breathing and a strengthening and then trembling in his grip but before it reached whatever climax it was building toward the song ended.
Mr. Lowery interrupted him when it appeared for a moment the song’s end would not. The fat man cursed loudly but thrust me away, almost knocking me to the floor. He tugged uncomfortably at his crotch, pulling his belt higher up on his big belly and smiled at me wickedly.
“We aint done yet little girl, don’t you worry.” He promised, grasping at an unopened beer on the end table beside him. Somehow the threat didn’t surprise me, didn’t even frighten me really. I was sure that he was right and that before I was permitted to leave I would have to deal with him again.
Somehow I assumed, from the way this lap-dance nightmare had progressed, that Mr. Lowery would be last so I turned then to Drew and was hit again with that sense of depravity over and beyond even that already experienced with the others. It was the familiarity I knew, a layer of intimacy absent elsewhere in that living room, even with Mr. Lowery. Yes, as my father’s boss I had seen and spoken to him regularly but had never come close to the connection I had made with Drew as a young girl that night at the party years before. We had shared something that night, on the surface only an unlikely friendship but secretly, I think we both knew, something more. I had liked him in a way I didn’t altogether understand at the time but had been aware of how different, how powerful it was. It had seemed, at least as I look back now, that he had been aware of it too and fostered it. He hadn’t acted inappropriately in any way, my age and his good sense precluded that, but even his innocent attentions seemed intended to kindle my pubescent female curiosity, they had to have been.
Now here I was years later, naked and approaching the same man, some of those old feelings clawing their way through the storm of emotions I was already enduring. They added both an additional layer of shame and excitement as I stood looking down at him. His eyes were on mine, never dropping to the tantalizing flesh displayed before him. As the music started and I began to dance our eyes remained locked, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
He was seeing not only the body of a young girl the others found so appetizing but who I was as a person as well, that connection years ago allowed him that. All the embarrassment and humiliation, the absolute implausibility of this girl; me; Shaylee Moore, doing what I was doing wasn’t lost to him. He was as much aware as I was. The difference I realized as place my hands on his knees and performed the now well practiced dip and grind was that he was feeding off it.
So I wasn’t surprised when he too reached up and pulled me onto his lap, straddling his legs with my own, bringing me face to face with him. I could feel him beneath me, just as hard as Mr. Louis had been but he didn’t squirm or buck. Instead he leaned me forward against his chest and dipped my head down onto his shoulder. In the hidden space between us he traced a finger along my stomach, up across my sternum, narrowly grazing my right breast and then alongside my throat. He whispered in my exposed ear as his hand caressed my neck, his lips touching the flesh there making me shiver.
“I’ve thought about this for years Shaylee. You have too, haven’t you?”
It was an egotistical and disdainful question, wicked in its implication, revealing lewdness perhaps more contemptible than even the open lechery of Mr. Louis. I was just a sexual object to these other men, to Mr. Lowery too, but to Drew I was that little girl at the party again. He was living a tainted fantasy of me he had conjured up countless times for years. The thought repulsed me.
He was right though, in a small way. I had thought about him, shortly after the party and occasionally for months after. He had been an adult, a grown man, and had taken an interest in me. He was the first such crush I had ever experienced. I could not have at that time imagined him approaching me sexually but there had been a tickle of excitement thinking that he might like me that way. Not like Dad or Grandpa, Uncle Walter or even the boys I was friends with liked me, but in that other way. Every woman out there knows exactly what I mean, the strange mix of curiosity, shame and desire sometimes experienced as a girl matures. The feelings for him faded quickly of course and were replaced by more legitimate crushes on boys closer to my own age but the sting of that first, secretly tawdry, connection was still there.
“Haven’t you?” he asked again, nuzzling closer.
I didn’t reply, not sure yet if the answer would be yes or no honestly, but he didn’t wait. His right hand slipped up to my bust and playfully cupped each breast then grazed my nipples triggering their instant response. His other hand was commanding more of my attention however as it retraced its path down my neck, chest and tummy but didn’t stop. It slowed but continued to dip lower, below my belly-button, slightly to the side along the ridge of my hip and then centered again, racing across the curve of my thigh inwardly and then further down. His attentions were mostly shielded from view, nestled between the few inches between his chest and mine but somehow the privacy increased rather than eased my apprehension. His false portrayal of private intimacy was loathsome.
His hand reached the warm crevice between my legs and splayed out, his fingers spreading my legs slightly. I couldn’t help but let out a low moan, nervous energy and confused emotion escaping me. He saw it as encouragement and went further, rotating his hand and cupping my fleshy mound first then probing tentatively with one finger for the slit in the fold. My legs stiffened reflexively and my back arched.
“His hand is down there. Right there! Oh God!” my mind boomed.
He found the edge of my labia and parted me, struggling with the tightly closed lips as a single finger began to advance.
“Why Shaylee, you’re still a virgin aren’t you honey?” he whispered, only louder this time, obviously intending that the others should hear.
Again I didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, all my attention was directed solely on his hand and where that finger was going. The tissue was moist down there, and his digit slid easily between the folds but stopped before moving deeper.
His head turned to catch a meaningful stare from Lowery. Shrugging his shoulders he slowly withdrew the offending digit, flicking the now incredibly sensitive tissue just above. My clitoris responded with an involuntary throb and I inhaled sharply from the intensity of it. He grinned evilly, obviously noticing my discomfort and leaned back, placing his hands on my thighs as he spoke to me but directed his voice to the room.
“Well I guess we are going to have to keep your little cherry intact Shaylee hun. That’s the rule we agreed to and I bet your plenty fucking glad to hear it aint you? You didn’t come over here tonight expecting to go home good and fucked anyway did you?”
The false intimacy was gone, his attempt at connecting somehow with the girl he remembered replaced by a disappointment driven callousness rivaling if not surpassing Mr. Louis’ boorish indecency.
“Still, there’s a woman in there just nagging to get out and I don’t think we need to pop a cherry to find her, do you?”
He reached down again swiftly and rubbed a course finger across my clitoris again, tugging at the little hood of flesh as he brought it back up. I jolted, my legs stiffening and my back arched involuntarily in that brief moment of fierce but unwanted pleasure. Without warning he then grasped me around the waist and lifted me bodily, spinning me around on his lap until I faced the center of the room. His boots caught my legs from within and spread them widely as his hands rudely pulled me back against his chest. His breath was in my ear, his hands moving toward my uplifted breasts as he whispered.
“Fine then honey, you don’t get fucked. Good for you, but I think you owe us something for all the teasing you’ve been doing. Let’s see the woman your hiding behind that little girl bull shit.”
As he clutched at my right breast with one hand he reached down with the other, enveloping my own hand in his and dragging it toward my crotch. I resisted but his strength and purpose were unrelenting. My hand was firmly shoved between my legs and forced to rub, moving up and down atop the warm flesh there in a spastic rhythm.
I understood immediately what he was asking for, no not asking but insisting I do in front of them. The enormity of it hit me with a renewed sense of humiliation and shock I had thought impossible by that point. I had explored myself before of course, all girls do, and had even found that incredibly sensitive region Drew had so bluntly assaulted. I knew there was latent power there, something very special, but I had never had the nerve to explore it completely. Always after a few minutes of building sensitivity with the accompanying gasping, pulse-racing and intense emotion, I had chickened-out. I wasn’t sure where it would lead exactly and the not-knowing was scary. I had read, heard about and even discussed what an orgasm was but had never had the nerve to experience one. I associated it with sex of course and despite being educated to the fact that it was very much a personal and independent experience, I was still intimidated by it. Now, in full view of strangers, I was being made to find it.
“Do it Shaylee.” Again Mr. Lowery had the last word and his tone broached no argument. Drew’s hand released its grip on mine but hung there, prepared to reengage should I find the will to resist. He needn’t have bothered. Looking about the room at the eyes fixed upon me I resigned myself once again to the impossible and brought my other hand forward to join the one set between my legs. Drew’s legs had mine pinned down in a nearly uncomfortable spread and his hand were once again at my breasts, as much holding me reclined as satisfying his lust.
Bent back at the waist and neck my pussy was out of my own sight but clearly in theirs. They watched as my hands found my warm and moistening fold and rubbed there a moment before pulling the tender lips apart. I tried to look away from the hungry eyes feasting on me but I couldn’t, their expressions were animalistic, completely consumed with carnal desire. Fat Louis was tugging at his crotch disdainfully, his tongue looping out to run across his lips. Harvey squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, twirling the drink in his hand to the point it splashed across the chair arm unnoticed. The old rancher and Mr. Lowery looked on stoically but there was a predatory gleam in both their eyes I had not seen before. Behind me Drew began to whisper encouragement in his own sadistic way.
The suggestions he made and the images he placed in my head would have disgusted me at any other time but thrust as they were into the fervor building in my loins they spurred me to abandon. He shared fantasies he had enjoyed at my unknowing expense over the years, some so depraved I blushed despite the completely deviant behavior I was engaged in. He bragged of masturbating the very night of that party long ago, his mind conjuring up impure images of the young girl I had been during countless ejaculations sense. He described in breathy detail what he could do to me, how hard his cock was and all the places he wanted so desperately to put it.
I had found that special place and a mesmerizing rhythm down there. My hands seemed to move on their own, disconnected but oh so influenced by the scene around me and the filth I was hearing. As the mouths of the men twitched and their eyes narrowed or widened in fascination my tempo and pressure increased, the friction building and focusing in on the point where I knew hysteria dwelled.
“If I go there” I told myself, clinging some semblance of control “If I move my finger only a little bit higher I won’t be able to stop. I’ll be on that ride I’ve never finished before and this time there is no slowing down, no stopping.”
Drew’s fingers pinched down painfully hard on both of my nipples suddenly, drawing both a scream and a completely unexplainable jolt of pleasure beneath my hands.
“Cum you little wh*r*!” he said aloud this time “Dig those fingers in and squirt for us Shaylee, show us what a little sl*t you really are!”
Inexplicably his abuse was like gasoline to a smoldering fire. I cried out, in half distress and half passion as I worried feverishly with two fingers directly on my clit. My other hand came up reflexively and pushed Drew’s away, protecting but then grasping my own breasts. My hips began to buck and I might have fallen from his lap had he not held me in place. My breath was coming faster, each inhalation a gasp, each exhalation a whelp of ascending pleasure. My legs kicked and Drew spread them even further, digging his heels into the floor, locking me in that position of complete oblivion, complete abandon.
I came. A shrill scream broke from my lips but was quickly stifled by my own hand, clasped hard across my mouth as my eyes stared wildy. My hips continued to buck uncontrollably and my legs flailed as Drew lost his hold. There was an intense warmness down there and a steady pulsing, sending thrums of pleasure throughout my entire body. The warmness spread, first to my thighs but then in slow liquid-like rivulets down my legs. I realized guiltily that it was liquid, my liquid, my cum cascading in a slow stream. The dim lights caught the dribble clearly and there were moans of approval around me.
I lay there, awaiting the spasms of pleasure to subside, powerless to move or even think clearly before they did. Drew released me, dropping me to the carpet in front of him where I rolled to my side and drew up into a fetal position, small spasms still racking my body but now from tears rather than release. I heard a conversation around me but it held no meaning, no importance to me in my state. There was low talk at first but then raised voices and finally what sounded like tones of agreement. When I finally regained my composure Mr. Lowery was kneeling on one knee beside me, the other’s attentions returned to their drinks for the first time in a while.
He placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke quietly, compassionately.
“You O.K. Shaylee?”
I wasn’t in anyway conceivable by any sane person on the face of the earth even in the most remote of ways FUCKING OK, but it didn’t matter. I just nodded.
“It’s getting late hun and I think it’s about time for you to head home.” He followed, tugging at my arm a bit to raise me to my knees beside him. “Theres only one chore left for you to finish and our deal is complete darling, o.k.? After that you’re home free.”
I leaned over and sat down on one hip, drawing my knees up under me and for the first time in more than an hour covered my breasts with my arm. The confidence and determination I had fostered during the torrid events of the evening were now gone, washed away in that flood of virgin passion. I was just a girl again, me again, sitting naked in heals and garters in front of these strange men. The self consciousness timidity and shame came back in a nauseous surge. Tears were forming again and I sniffed hard against them.
“One more thing?” he had said, hadn’t he? “Just one more thing?” I actually asked aloud.
“Yes Shaylee, just one more thing.” He replied almost laughing. “You’ve been a real sport all night. I wasn’t sure you could handle it but you did. I’m real glad I’m not going to have to make that call to the police. I really, really am, you can believe that.”
Somehow I did believe that, this had been a sadistic opportunity for the old pervert and his buddies for sure but in the calming moments sitting there I could see that I had set myself up perfectly for it. It could have been much worse though, I admitted, prison or ****. He had at least drawn a few lines on their behavior and given me a chance to avoid the police and a life-ending disaster in the process. It was going to be ok now though, wasn’t it? They hadn’t really hurt me, just as they had promised and although I had done things I wouldn’t never be able to forget, I was really no worse for wear physically.
“What is it?” I coughed.
“You’re a gorgeous young woman Shaylee honey,” He began smiling broadly “and this show you’ve put on here has us boys near to losing our minds.” He gestured to the others with this statement and they agreed.
“Fucking A” Mr. Louis said, tossing another beer can into the pile beside his chair.
“Got me so I can hardly think straight gal!” commented the old Rancher Kelmore.
Drew responded with something illegible, his mouth busy downing the bottom of a whiskey glass while the usually demure Harvey stumbled to his feet and spat.
“I’m so fucking horny I think I’m gonna die!”
Their outbursts would have been comical in any other setting, maybe even in that setting had it been anyone but me sitting there naked on the floor. As it was their words reinforced Lowery’s intimation that we weren’t quite through. That promise of home was still just a bit out of reach. I yearned for some to that reckless confidence I had experienced earlier but it wasn’t there. I would have to finish this without it.
I looked up at Lowery and raised my eyebrows, repeating my question silently this time. He looked down and for the first time I saw unease in his eyes, as if he were debating not only how to answer but wondering if he should answer at all. Finally after a noticeably long pause he leaned a little closer and spoke low, almost whispering.
“You’re going to have to give these boys and I some relief before you cut lose Shaylee? With just your hands honey or mouth so don’t go freaking out! I just can’t let these friends of mine leave like they are now, it wouldn’t be right and well, I kind of promised. So take your pick of who and how but get it done right now.”
There, sitting on the floor, with the disgrace and indignities of the evening behind me I wasn’t sure if I had any self-respect left but at this final suggestion I felt what might have remained die. There was some hushed talk between them while I sat there my mind whirling. My refusal however was never even a consideration. Something bounced across the carpet and landed with a cold touch against my leg. I looked down and found a bottle of skin-softening lotion lying there beckoning me.
The site fostered an image of my hands sliding over Harvey’s hard cock or pulling at Mr. Louis’ dick beneath his huge belly. Mr. Lowrey and then Drew came to mind next, panting like a dogs as this time I sucked on their dicks with my mouth, their balls bouncing against my chin. In that few seconds I knew I could never do it, suck them. Jerking them with my hands would be mortifying but endlessly preferable to the indignity and disgust of actually putting them in my mouth.
“Can I just use the lotion?” I asked timidly “I don’t think I can do, you know?”
“Her hands are fine, right boys?” Lowery replied, to which the others nodded although Mr. Louis looked soured in dissapointment.
Taking the bottle in my hand I crawled the short distance to Harvey and kneeled in close between his legs. He fumbled at his belt until Lowery told him to just relax and let me do it. The notion smarted, somehow having to actually unbutton his pants and expose him myself made the deed more personal, even more humiliating. He eased his hands back on the chair arms and scooted forward a bit, nearly dropping his butt out of the chair. I sat the lotion aside and unbuckled his belt, unsnapped and unzipped then tugged his pants down to his knees and then to his ankles.
His briefs got caught in my grasp and in that one swift motion I fully exposed his already hard penis. It was right there, only a foot from my kneeling face. I tried not to look at it but couldn’t help myself. It was surreal, a strange man’s hard cock right there and I was about to touch it, play with it, stroke it until it...I forced an image of the eventuality away in an embarrassed nudge. I tried desperately to separate the task before me from the man waiting for it. Spilling a liberal glob of lotion into my right hand I slid it over his cock and followed quickly with my left, slipping into a quick and steady rhythm.
His penis pulsed in my hands, actually bobbing in spasmatic contractions when I let go to apply more lotion. His legs flexed on either side of me and I watched despite myself in amazement as the initially loose hanging ball-sac began to draw up, tighter and tighter, until it bulged taught and flush just beneath his thickening rod. I increased my tempo and his breath began to come in tight whistles between his teeth. His eyes rolled and then closed, his hands clutching in open air. The end came swiftly and unexpectedly.
As one stroke followed another there was a sudden surge in my hands. Harvey let out a guttural moan and a jet of thick warm jizz spurted from between my fingers and landed with surprising weight on my forearm. I tried to continue, not certain what I was supposed to do at that point but he grabbed for my hands frantically as another shot and then another escaped him, lobbing up and arcing back onto his shirt. I pulled away and watched revolted yet curious as he grasped his own flesh and the shower continued, each succeeding spurt propelling a smaller wad a shorter distance. Finally a single plug of thick cum merely bubbled out and ran down his already sticky fingers. He was done.
I backed away, wiping my arm across his pant leg without either of us really noticing. I was a little stunned by what I had seen, what I had been part of, what I had caused. It had been repugnant certainly, in a visceral, grossly organic way but powerful as well, mystifying in its intensity. It was the first time I had ever seen a man ejaculate, other than in static photographs shared by a more experienced girlfriend. His response had been so raw, his release so violent I couldn’t help but be fascinated. As I turned then toward Mr. Kelmore I had to admit a certain curiosity. Would the old rancher behave the same way?
Kelmore waved me away however, smiling timidly he gestured to Lowery beside him instead.
“There’s nothing I’d like more sweetheart but my plumbing aint what it used to be. I’m plenty happy just watching the show. Go ahead and give Lowery your attention there, I’m just fine.”
He emphasized this last statement with a long pull on his half-empty longneck but there was disappointment in his voice. I felt a strange mix of relief and compassion as I turned to Mr. Lowery. Again I had assumed for some reason that he would last, the very last recipient of what I dared to believe would be my last performance but I was wrong.
My father’s boss looked at me expectantly and shifted back in his chair much as Harvey had.
“You’re almost done Shaylee, make it good and your home in bed in thirty minutes.” He encouraged.
I followed the same routine as before, with his belt, his pants and then his cock. Lowery wasn’t hard however when I exposed him. I considered the half-aroused but still flaccid penis in my hand a little perplexed. He let out a contented sigh and gave each of my boobs a playful squeeze before reclining back fully to accept my services. With another dob of lotion I began pulling him, hand over hand, stretching his member, milking it. He groaned and warned me not to neglect his balls. Responding apprehensively I reached down with one hand and cupped his sack while the other continued to work on his cock. They were heavy in my hand and I rolled them in my fingers uneasily. I must have done it right however as he began to stiffen immediately, his body and his penis in my other hand.
I continued the dual manipulation, his hardening cock making it easier to stroke now and his balls in my hand beginning to tighten as I had seen Harvey’s do. I returned both hands to his penis but he shook his head and gestured to his balls again. I did as I was told and within seconds he came too. It was not quite as explosive as Harvey’s and he reacted differently but it was no less impressive. He shook, from his legs to his shoulders Mr. Lowery shook while I pumped cum out of him. His head pitched back so violently I thought he might be having a seizure or something for a second until he too grabbed at my hands, forcing me to ease back on the pressure and pace of my attentions. As I knew what to expect this time I aimed his pulsing member away and unloaded his spooge on the chair’s armrest and the floor beneath.
He nodded finally, wordlessly indicating I should move on while he lay there looking exhausted. His breathing was slowing but I wondered for the first time about the toll this might take on an old man. What if one of them had a heart attack or something? The thought both scared and humored me.
“It would serve them right.” I thought evily and replaced some of my apprehension and disgust with a desire to actually push one of the bastards just that far.
Looking up from Mr. Lowery I found Drew waiting anxiously. As I approached he tried unsuccessfully to capture my eye but I purposefully directed my gaze elsewhere, anywhere but into his. Frustrated he reached out and spun me about as I neared, then drew me back so that I stood above him, straddling his lap, his words and hot breath behind me, focused right at my ass.
“Go ahead Shaylee honey, get started only this is going to be a bit different.” He teased wickedly. Unsure, I reached down between my own legs and found the button on his pants. As I opened them I had to bend over to reach and involuntarily thrust my butt even closer to his face. I felt his hands on my hips as I tugged at his pants and when his already aroused cock emerged he pulled me back even more.
My hands wrapped around him and began the now familiar routine of hand over hand action supplemented by one or both stroking up and down rhythmically. I was conscious of my ass and fairly spread pussy inches from his face of course but had become numb to such exposure until a strange new sensation drew my attention back there and interrupted my administrations.
“Shhhhh.” He urged, pulling away a bit to deliver the warning. “You just keep doing what you’re doing little girl and I’ll mind things back here.”
The sensation returned and realized suddenly it was his tongue. He was licking me back there. As my hands returned to their work I could feel him lapping at me like a dog, then probing me with a surprisingly firm intrusion. His tongue slid over me, interlaced with kisses to my cheeks and pussy, tracing the flesh there from the sensitive top most portion of my pussy to the back and then further. As I subconsciously stroked faster he moved up and I felt his fingers spread my ass cheeks. I flinched when his tongue found my butthole, drawing a short laugh from him before he began furiously tongue-working the virgin tissue there. It was hard to concentrate on what I was doing while being so eagerly violated and I found my hands halting, a cautionary thrust of his hips necessary to put me back to task.
His face was buried now, I could feel his nose wedged between my cheeks and trickles of his saliva and what might have also come from me ran down my thighs. His hands free he reached them forward and took my suspended breasts and kneaded them as I increased the tempo of my stroking. The hands began to clutch more fiercely and I his legs jerked spasmodically, announcing the impending climax. He began to slurp at the liquid mess he had made of my pussy and I could actually hear him swallow. His cock stiffened all too familiarly in my hand and I cried out as his hands reflexively clamped down hard on my suspended breasts.
A powerful jet of semen erupted from his cock and I jerked my head to the side to narrowly avoid being splattered by it. I aimed it away but continued to stroke him, expecting his interference but it never came. He continued to ‘eat’ me back there, sucking and licking repulsively until his cock finally grew soft in my hands, spent. He released me and I stepped away, not wanting to look back, but I did. He returned my momentary gaze with a wink, his face wet and lips foamy with our sick joining. He laughed at me as I spun away, tugging at his pants.
“You can think what you like of me now little lady,” he said, rubbing a sleeve across his mouth, “but you will be thinking about that later, thinking about me later, I promise you that.”
To my horror I realized he might be right.
I had no further time to contemplate him or his promise because Mr. Louis was next, the last, and he was waiting for me.
I stepped toward him and felt the cold tang of fear in my belly again. He looked at me not with the desire I had found in the other’s eyes but with a fierce resentment, as if had provoked him somehow. He was angry and the emotion was tied up somehow with his clearly visible arousal as he had already pulled his pants to his ankles and sat there ready. His t shirt was drawn up a bit over a huge hairy gut and his fat thighs almost touched despite spreading to the limits of the chair he occupied. His dick barely protruded from a nest of thick brown and graying pubic hair despite its hardness and I was silently amused at his comparative inadequacy.
I wasn’t laughing though; there was a threatening feel to him as I approached and the smile he gave me held no affection, only menace. As I got down on my knees between his and reached for him I could smell a sour odor of crotch-sweat and beer, his odor. I was revolted but accepted he was the last barrier to my freedom and was determined to overcome him. As my fingers folded around his short but startlingly thick and hard prick he grabbed my wrist firmly and shook his head. He held me there for several seconds, increasing the pressure on my wrist cruely until at last he spoke.
“Sorry but no, you little c*nt, a hand job might be enough for these assholes but you’re going to have to work that pretty mouth of yours if you want to get out of this.”
I tugged at his grip on my wrist, shaking my head but he held firm and leaned forward holding my eyes as fiercely as my arm.
“We all get a copy of what Lowery’s cameras have been recording tonight, you know that right? Well unless you want copies mailed to every fucking house in your neighborhood you better just get to sucking, you understand me wh*r*?
“The cameras! Oh God!” I remembered in horror “How could I have forgotten the very implements of my conviction?”
I turned to Mr. Lowery who had recomposed himself and was tucking his shirt back into his pants. He looked up at me and only shrugged, frowning a little but his expression made it clear he wouldn’t intervene.
“I’d rather keep this little show of yours private girl,” the fat man added “no telling the kind of trouble it going public could bring but Ill abso-fucking-lutely show you off to the world if you don’t send me off happy. Do you like the idea of your family and neighbors watching you sl*t it up for us baby?”
He let go of my wrist then and leaned back, diddling his hard penis with a couple fingers while he let his threat sink in. I realized at some logical level that whatever choice I made had very little bearing on their discretion with the video that was even now being recorded. I was dependent on their promises, at their mercies, Mr. Lowery’s most of all. I had been from the very start. The possibility of continued blackmail and providing God knows what favors to maintain my freedom and reputation were very real concerns but they were also concerns I had absolutely no control over. And control was what I desperately needed. I was also desperate to regain that feeling of imminent liberation I had enjoyed only minutes before. I pushed all the other fears away, resolved to manage this situation as I had for the entire evening, one step at a time. My next step was to go home and do whatever it took to get there. I would worry about what came after that when and if it came.
Crawling a bit closer, wedging myself in between Mr. Louis’ fat thighs, I leaned forward and took his cock in my hand again. This time however I grasped low on the shaft with only a couple fingers, my full hand would have covered most of it otherwise. Dipping my head I hazarded a glance up at him and was greeted with a sickeningly imperious look of satisfaction. I closed my eyes and slid my lips over him.
I inserted him fully until he bumped the back of my throat and my nose and chin pushed into the wiry nest of his pubes. I tasted salt and maybe soap and the rank odor of his sweat-stained thighs and ass was stomach-turning. I didn’t stop though, didn’t even hesitate. I continued as if my very life depended on giving this fat, condescending, perverted son of a b*tch the nut of his life.
I sucked hard on the protruding member, my cheeks actually pulling in with the effort. I released my hand from him, his dick so hard it needed no support to remain erect, jutting up into my open mouth. Remembering Lowery’s request I moved my hands to his balls instead, tugging and pulling at them in unison with my oral efforts. He moaned and brought his own hands to my head, entangling his fingers in my hair then dragging me down even further onto his throbbing cock.
My face smashed hard into the fat of his pelvis, my chin bruising his balls which were already drawing up into a swelling pink pouch. His penis was small but becoming fully engorged and probed the back of my mouth, looking for room to grow. I gagged, feeling the muscles in my throat contract around him, but he wouldn’t let me withdraw. My eyes glazed then teared as I fought to breathe, my nostrils flaring.
His hips were moving now, thrusting against what his hands held in a stubborn grip. I gagged again and again, choking on his cock inching deeper down my throat. My nose was watering, my eyes blurring and my stomach heaving but I held on, determined to finish this final, ultimate humiliation. My hands lost their grip and fell lifelessly to my side, my body shutting down in the face of the abuse driving into my mouth. I was virtually flopping on the end of his hands and cock, a soulless bauble for his carnal pleasure.
“Skull fucked.” The obscene phrase came unbidden somewhere from within my semi-consciousness. “He was skull fucking me, fucking my mouth, fucking my face!”
The sickening intimacy of it, the absolute intrusion, the utter and complete domination pummeled my psyche in ways I would only understand later, years later. The thickening tool in my mouth pulsed once and he stopped thrusting suddenly in response. His hands remained locked in my hair however and I knew better than to try and move. He sat almost motionless, his belly heaving with labored breathing but otherwise I felt only a tenseness, a rapidly intensifying vibration in his legs, his hips and finally his cock.
He exploded into me. There was a terribly hot filling of my throat and his jizz spewed from my nose and mouth around his pumping member. He continued to fill me with his seed and I gagged with every milky surge. It went on and on, one mouth-filling flood after another, spurting out between my clenched lips. Finally I felt the spasm subsiding and noisily guzzled in a draught of air. He shoved me away rudely, kicking ineffectively with a still quivering leg as I toppled to the ground. I bent over and vomited a torrent of clotty semen, raking the offensive goo from my mouth with a finger. Above me Mr. Louis hurriedly grasped at his pants, as if in his release he was now reminded of how embarrassed he should be with his fat thighs, gut and prick hanging out.
Lowery spoke from the far side of the room.
“You’re good to go then Todd?” he asked, looking sharply at Louis as he fastened his pants beneath a still rolling belly. “This stays between us, like we agreed, right?”
The big man panted, trying to catch his breath. He finally nodded but Lowery wasn’t content. After waiting another minute for the pig to calm down he asked again and this time Louis answered.
“You got my word Lowery, and you too you little fuck-hole” he spat at me then turned back to Lowery. “I won’t say a God damned thing. Just make sure you get me the tape like you said.”
Reaching pointlessly for an already empty bottle of beer he cursed under his breath. “Worst fucking blow job I ever had anyway.”
Lowery rose, walked over and helped me up by the arm. He pointed to the spare bedroom and told me to get a shower and leave what was left of the lingerie on the bed. I did what I was told wordlessly and dazedly walked what felt like a hundred miles to the hallway and the bedroom beyond, anticipating with every step a call to return and perform just ‘one more thing’ but it never came. They said nothing as I left, nothing at all.
I stood in the shower for almost thirty minutes, having soaped and scrubbed and cleansed as much as a shower could and tried to let the hot water wash away dirt that I would spend a lifetime trying to rid myself of. When I finally emerged and put on the clothes I had arrived in, the house was quiet. The remnants of lingerie were gone. Timidly I made my way to the living room and found it empty, the bottles and glasses removed. Walking into the kitchen I glanced at the clock and was shocked to see it was only a quarter past ten, the entire ordeal had only lasted two hours. I felt exhausted, my body shaking, as if I had run a marathon. My emotional strain had reached levels I hadn’t thought possible and I found myself suddenly overwhelmed and close to collapse. Sitting down beside the table I dry-heaved several times as nausea and dizziness assailed me. Breathing deeply I finally cleared my head and noticed a sheet of paper folded by my car keys, lying where I had left them only two infinitely-long hours before.
“Shaylee,” it began in a hastily scrawled but carefully worded script. “Thanks so much for the help tonight, please be sure to tell your Dad thanks for allowing you to lend a hand. I know it was a bit more work than you expected but it was certainly appreciated. Don’t worry, I don’t have any plans to make this a regular thing, you worked hard enough tonight I think. Unless you’re willing to make a few dollars by helping out in the future, I promise to leave you to your summer. I won’t tell anyone what a great worker you are if you don’t! Thanks again! Signed, Mr. Lowery.”
He had left the note as not only an explanation for my parents but a warning to me, a completely innocent appearing warning, promise and proposal I realized. I was to tell no one of course and he would make sure my secret was kept in turn, but then there was that proposal. God was he serious? Could he actually think I would willingly get involved in something like this again for money?
I grabbed my keys and wadded the note up in my hand, my light-headedness and exhaustion replaced with anger-charged disgust and contempt. I barged out the front door in finality and found the carport empty. His confidence was so complete that he didn’t even worry how I might feel or what I might do now that his little game was over and I might be thinking straight.
“I could rob him blind or torch his fucking house!” I thought viciously. I stood there fuming and enjoyed the rage but admitted reluctantly that I would do neither of those things. I would return meekly home instead, fake my way through an explanation to my parents, crawl into bed, and have nightmares for months that I was here again, whoring myself for their entertainment.
The drive home was amazingly the r pa eutic. I left the windows down and embraced the desert air urging it to sweep the emotions of the evening from me. I wouldn’t have thought it possible but by the time I got home I was almost ok, at least for the moment. I managed a short, uneventful visit with my parents and was restfully snuggling into my own bed minutes later. As I lay there I dwelled on the evening of course, remembering each and every detail of the sordid performance and I would stay fixated on it for weeks, months even. But it was already taking on a surreal almost nightmare like quality. It was tempting and almost possible to will the entire night away as a bad dream, that I was still the innocent girl that had woken up this morning in that very same bed. The horror I had experienced was abating somewhat, the humiliation easing. We are incredible creatures and are designed to withstand and adapt to extreme situations. I know that now as an adult. I was adapting as I finally fell asleep that night, accepting. My last conscious thought that night as my mind drifted off to sleep was an unexpected and unscrupulous question.
“Just how much money was Mr. Lowery alluding to in his note?”

[Shap420]

Extremely well written, cheers

[allmyfaves4ever]

That 's one of the best stories I've ever read. Damm fine job!

[rgrove0172]

Thanks for the kind words. I was worried after posting it that the "wall of text" and slow start would drive readers away. It looks a lot better when properly formatted. Hopefully the content makes up for it. It is one of my favorite fantasies, something about the unwillingly subject just does it for me.

[allmyfaves4ever]

Yeah, the blackmail makes it incredibly erotic.

I kind of wonder if Mr. Lowery purposefully tempted her with the money with the hopes of blackmailing her.

That theory is a little thin since she did have to break into the room containing the money, but I think your average person would have called the cops, rather than risk the scandal of blackmail.

It takes a special, coniving pervert to act out a blackmail scene like that. Perhaps the type of person that would set a girl up hoping she falls for the bait

That what I like to think anyways. Adds to the erotica.

[rgrove0172]

That's an interesting thought, certainly worth some consideration in a sequel!

[allmyfaves4ever]

Duuuude, yes, a sequel please. But take your time. It has to be as good as the first story, but also contain surprises to keep it fresh. It'd probably be best to have Mr. Lowery prey upon a new girl, while still being told from the girl's perspective, but, with maybe some insight into how Mr. Lowery set her up for blackmail. Something like, "What Beth didn't know was, she was his unwitting pawn from the moment she entered the house, for she had thought the nude pics she had sent her boyfriend were for his eyes only. She had no idea her boyfriend had lost his phone, or that Mr. Lowery was the one that had found it. No one could imagine what the preacher's daughter had been texting to her boyfriend..."

See?! So good! Good luck on the writing man.

[incogneto]

loved it, well done.

[rgrove0172]

Just hoping for a few more readers.

[Menorca]

Originally Posted by rgrove0172

Its been a while but I thought Id post a pic of the subject of the story. It might help the imagination a bit.

Show her naked as a young girl, today and between the times! Would love it! Thx!