"Student_s Bedroom Demonstration" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tavish Mack)

Chapter 2

She hardly heard what he said, for a spasm of terror gripped her at the sight of a razor in Jake's hand. But he bent swiftly and slashed through the cord binding her ankles, and grabbed her roughly by the arm, hauling her off Willy's lap and sending her stumbling out of the car onto a crumbling driveway, hands still secured behind her, sweater rolled up beneath her arms and bra dangling, skirt nicked up about her hips.

She glanced around quickly: a somewhat ramshackle frame house was before her, and seemed to be thickly surrounded by wildly growing woods and underbrush. No hope of being seen from the road by a passing rescuer…

As she stood getting her balance and her bearings the door of the house opened, and her heart gave a throb of relief at the sight of a woman. Surely this would mean defense and protection! She gazed longingly at the approaching figure, at the tall, rather slender brunette whose firm, high breasts moved unrestrainedly beneath a loose denim work-shirt. Her long legs were accentuated by tight-fitting faded jeans and she was barefoot.

"Hi, Doris," Willy called. "We got 'em! And our hostage. Get a load of her boobs, huh?"

The woman came towards them, unhurriedly. She did not return Sally's timid attempt at a smile, but looked at her pokerfaced, the way Jake had done.

"Hey, Doris," Willy tried again. "Bet you'd like to get a feel of them tits, huh? You like tits, don't you? Huh?"

She drawled: "You're not likely to find out what I like, kid." Her voice was cynical, hard. She didn't look much more than thirty, if that.

"I know what I like," Willy announced lasciviously. "Nookie. Hot, wet, juicy nookie."

He suddenly cupped one of Sally's buttocks in his hand and squeezed.

"She's got the greatest ass," he proclaimed.

Jerry came scurrying up on the other side. Sally could see the bulge at the front of his pants, and once again that deep throbbing of fear gathered in her belly.

She said to the woman: "Please, make them – leave me alone! Please!"

Jerry giggled: "No good askin' Doris the dyke, lady. She'll have you laid out with your legs spread as fast as any of us. Jesus, I can't wait to get you spread out, honeypot!"

Doris made a slight grimace and turned away, and Jake snapped: "Get in the house, fer chrissake!"

"Yeah, let's get inside," Jerry leered.

With his hand still on her buttock, Willy gave her a slight shove forward, and in helpless obedience, she climbed the steps to the opened door and went inside.

It smelled a bit musty, as though nobody had lived there for a long time: an impression heightened by the film of dust that lay over things not in immediate use. The room into which she was propelled was furnished with a motley assortment of armchairs grouped around a portable television set and a rickety coffee table, piled with used paper cups and empty cans of beer.

Jake pushed her into one of the chairs and stood looking down into her frightened eyes for a moment Then he turned his head and gave a sharp, summoning whistle.

There was a clatter of claws, and a pair of dobermans came running from somewhere in the house and bounded over to Jake. He pointed at Sally and said: "Guard her."

The dogs sniffed at her, and turned away.

Jalce explained casually: "They've done this before. They've been trained to watch you – to watch anyone they're told to guard. If you try to get out of any room without me – well, you can give it a try if you wanna know what happens."

Sally sat staring at the two dogs in horror. She had no doubt whatever that Jake was telling the truth.

"Outside," Jake said to the dogs, and to her relief they ran out of the room.

"They're very alert – superb watchdogs," Jalce added meaningly. "They've never let me down yet."

Willy and Jerry stood watching the little scene with evident enjoyment, and now another man came in: Sally recognized the pale brown hair of the man who had been driving.

"All okay, Tod?" Jake asked.

"Uh-huh."

Tod's eyes were an Indeterminate color, a sort of fishy gray-green. He looked at her now with a kind of neutral interest, as though she were a specimen of animal he had never seen before.

She said tremulously: 'Please, I – I need to – "

Four pairs of eyes were focused on her. "You'll have to raise your hand, teacher," Willy teased her, and she blushed.

Jake said: "I'll let your hands loose, but remember the dogs, and don't go tryin' nothin' dumb."

He pulled her to her feet and once again wielded the razor, and she rubbed her wrists with relief, then tugged her bra and sweater back into place.

"Soon have 'em out again," Willy assured her. "Soon as you take your leak or crap or whatever."

"Across the hall," Jake told her.

She was disproportionately thankful to find that the small bathroom was recently cleaned. She washed her face clean of the dried semen Willy had smeared there, and cleaned It off her thighs. She was reluctant to emerge from that illusory haven, but a sharp rap at the door summoned her forth. She dared not disobey.

The four men were lounging in the chairs around the television when she emerged, refreshing themselves with cans of beer. Willy held one out to her, and, because she was thirsty, she accepted it.

"Thank you," she said, thinking that perhaps she could establish some kind of sympathetic communication by acting as though this were a usual, civilized situation.

"You're welcome, teach." He watched her pop open the top and take a long swallow. "Maybe I'll come watch you next time you take a leak, huh? Bet you look real cute."

Doris came in carrying a plate of sandwiches which she set on the shaky table.

She said: "Since I'm the only one of you slobs that knows how to cook, I'll do it; but you'll clear up after me and do the dishes, or the deal's off. Work it out how you like."

She slumped down into one of the chairs and reached for one of the sandwiches.

Sally stood nervously where she was, clutching her beer can, wondering if she should sit down too. She was horribly conscious of Willy's pale blue eyes raking over her body, and of Jerry's avid moist-brown gaze.

Doris glanced at her once, and jerked her head towards an empty chair, and Sally sank down into it, trying to make herself inconspicuous.

Without success. The two pairs of eyes never left her, and Tod and Doris and Jake checked her out from time to time. Sally sat with her eyes riveted to the screen, but saw nothing.

Jake finished his beer and sandwich and reached forward to flick off the set. He twisted round in his chair and looked directly at Sally with that icy gray gaze.

There was a gathering of breath among the others, a silent expectation.

Jake said: "We're gonna be here a day or two, schoolteacher. Then we're leavin' the country. We ain't gonna be around for no rap-kidnap or any other kind."

She sat holding her breath.

"It won't make no difference to us if we leave you here well an' healthy to be picked up by the cops, or chewed up dead by the dogs. We won't be here. Get that?"

He waited in cold silence until she managed a tiny nod of terrified comprehension.

"You give any trouble, like tryin' to get away, and it won't be well and healthy they find you," he said flatly. "And since cunt makes trouble if it ain't free for all, you damn well better put out for anyone who wants you while we're waiting. Or I'll fix you so there won't be nothin' to cause trouble over. See?"

Again the long, silent, menacing stare.

Again the tiny nod of compliance.

He shrugged, and flicked the television back on.

For a couple of minutes the only sound in the room was the enthusiastic sales pitch for Junk-o's, The Marshmallow Cereal With Tongue-Tip Tingle.

Then Willy's voice:

"Miss Avalon."

Slowly, reluctantly, she turned her face to him.

"Why don't you take off your sweater and bra, huh? Then those of us that don't like what's on TV can have somethin' real nice to look at."

She sat paralyzed. Until Jake fixed on her his wintry stare, and she forced her hands into action.

Slowly, as slowly as she dared, she peeled her white sweater off over her head. And even more slowly, she groped behind her back and unfastened her brassiere, and slipped the shoulder straps down her arms, and off…

"Sit back Miss Avalon, so we can see 'em," Willy urged.

She sank back against the cushions of the chair, a tide of crimson shame staining her face and neck and her very breasts themselves.

Nothing… nothing… nothing…

The seconds crawled by, each one a blessed reprieve from some more outrageous demand, yet each an eternity of fear of what the next thing would be. The knot of tension in her belly sent tendrils all through her body, making her almost lightheaded.

"Teacher's tits," Jerry gulped. "She ever do that in class, Willy?"

"Nab. Woulda been more interestin' than all that history garbage. Hey, Miss Avalon, make your nips stand up. Play with 'em some, huh?"

Slowly her hands rose to her breasts. Uncertainly, she touched their tips with her fingers, coaxing the pale pink nipples into little towers of hardness.

"Push 'em together," Willy ordered hoarsely, and meekly she gathered the twin masses in her hands and forced them into an exaggerated cleavage.

"Yeah," Willy breathed. "Jerry, you ever fuck a broad between the tits?"

"Real big tits like the ones on her, it's somethin' else, man, I'm tellin' you."

"Yeah?"

"Go on-go give it a try."

"Yeah?" Jerry looked around uncertainly, then gave a giggle of bravado, and heaved himself out of his chair and strutted across to where she was sitting.

The bulge in his pants swelled visibly as he walked.

He stood in front of her and motioned to his fly.

"Fish it out for me, huh?"

She swallowed hard, then reached for the tab of his zipper and pulled downward.

The woolen cloth of his pants contrasted violently with the soft-skinned, heated tube of flesh that flopped out of the opening. It was twitching into hardness as her fascinated eyes stared at it: shorter and thinner than Willy's, with a head shaped more like an arrow than a mushroom; but to her eyes, and to her reluctant fingers, it felt enormous.

"There's the ole joystick," Jerry said excitedly.

His crotch was about level with her breasts as he stood in front of her chair, and his organ was far too close to her face for comfort. She moved her head back, flinching.

Jerry gave an evil grin.

"It's your jugs I'm gonna screw right now, lady," he said, "but it's gonna get a heap closer to your pretty face before we're much older."

Inwardly, she shuddered with disgust. The smell of his was drifting up to her nostrils: sweaty, funky.

"Now," Jerry went on, "what you gotta do, see, is kinda lean forward a bit."

She leant forward, her skin breaking out into gooseflesh when the hot head of his now rigid weapon brushed against one of her nipples, depositing a tiny drop of clear fluid.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Now-squeeze 'em together, like they was before."

With mechanical obedience, she pushed the fleshy globes back into that inches-deep cleavage, and he thrust his cock between them, the tip pushing into the wall of her chest. The material of his jacket and shirt brushed against her face.

"Squeeze 'em harder," he urged huskily. "Tighter. Get 'em tight as you can round my whang…"

She crushed them harder, and he made a slight pumping motion, back and forth, for a few seconds, never very far.

Then he stepped back from her, and for a wild moment she thought he had finished, but he said:

"It's kinda hard that way-you're gonna have to lay down so's I can shove it up 'n down between 'em, see?"

She stared at him.

"Onna floor's good as anywhere," he said matter-of-factly.

"The… floor?"

"Yeah. Lay down onna floor."

She threw a hunted glance around the room. All eyes were watching without pity.

Slowly she rose from the chair, and looked at the rug for a reasonably clean patch. She knelt down, then twisted into a sitting position, and then she stretched herself out on her back.

Nothing… nothing… nothing…

She crossed her ankles and folded her arms across her breasts. She had never felt so totally vulnerable in her life.

Jerry was stripping off his pants and jacket and his undershorts. He stood above her, ungainly in shirt and socks and tie. He straddled her body, his jutting shaft poking at the front of his shirt's long tails, and she glimpsed the wrinkled sack that hung tautly behind.

As though following her glance, Jerry reached between his legs and scratched vigorously.

"Balls get to itchin', this warm weather," he commented amiably, then lowered himself to his knees, then rested his rather plump, sweaty buttocks on her middle.

"Get 'em squeezed up, like before," he commanded, and, mutely, she did so. He supported himself with his hands and began to shove his steel-hard, fire-hot phallus through the slippery, open-ended mammary canal.

He set her teeth. He was heavy, resting on her body, and she loathed the touch of him-the fear-tension in her belly was worse than ever-but at least he wasn't hurting her…

"Hey, Miss Avalon," she heard Willy call, as from a great distance, "whyn'cha spread them pretty legs an' bend 'em up so's we can take a look at them virgin-white panties you got on?"

She cocked up her knees and parted her legs. The throbbing in her belly grew almost unbearable as she felt those four watchers gazing at her nylon-covered private parts, and as Jerry grunted and heaved and sweated… She thought that she might pass out, or scream-the tension was too much, too much…

Jerry suddenly stiffened and let out a series of strangled grunts, and hot droplets of fluid were spattering her neck and chin and shoulders. For a few moments he let the whole weight of his body rest on her middle, then he exhaled deeply and climbed off, groping for his pants.

She lay there, curiously drained of energy, breasts still pushed into that fleshy tunnel, legs still wide parted and bent to the gaze of the eyes.

Fearing that somebody would descend upon her, attack her, tear her apart…

Waiting…

"Ain't there nothin' more interestin' on that damn TV?" she heard a voice, and somebody started to click the channel selector around the dial.

Slowly, almost painfully, she relaxed her hands' grip on her breasts, and pushed herself up from the floor. Semen trickled down her upper body, its thick sliminess now clammy and cool. Feeling bruised, battered, she sank back into her chair and mindlessly focused her gaze on the television.

She hardly cared anymore about sitting there with her breasts exposed.