No Controlling Legal Authority Ch. 03

"Get over here, now." Headmaster Justice's voice shattered the stillness. She whipped her head around and saw that he was standing behind his desk, pointing to a chair he had pulled along side his.

"Mr. Justice, I ah," she stammered. She didn't move immediately. Fear, uncertainty, shame had paralyzed her legs and kept her rooted by the doorway. He loomed up, towering over her even from across the room and appeared to be much larger than she realized before.

He spoke. His tone was hard and sharp, like a rasp honing steel. "Does your job mean anything to you at all, Miss Anne?"

She quailed at the sound of his voice. His words slammed her against the austere block wall of his office, and her hands twisted the seams of her skirt anxiously. "Mr. Justice," she began hesitantly, but her strength failed her, and the remainder of her response died on her tongue.

"It is a simple question for you, girl," he spat at her impatiently. "Either you want your job or you do not. If you do not, then gather your things from your desk and leave. On the other hand, if you wish to retain your position here, you will do exactly as I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Is that clear?"

She was wringing her hands desperately. Her eyes darted from the photos on the desk to Rufus and back. Her mind reeled in disgust and revulsion. They had forced her to make those photos. She had refused and threatened to go to the police, but Nadeen had slapped her face and spit on her. She had said that half the football team was still talking about her and what she liked to do with boys, so's they wuddunt no cause for her to be gettin all goody-goody with them; they knowed what she did. She had fought them anyway, at first, but they were incredibly strong and resistance was useless. Nadeen had pushed her down on the bed and held her arms over her head, and Cletus had torn off her dress and pulled down her panties. He had hurt her with his fingers, and she had cried and begged him to stop, but he paid no attention. Nadeen stretched her arms and whispered to her that hit wuddn't be no worse than what them boys had did to her on that table up at the school that time.

Cletus had leered at her hungrily, staring down at the place between her legs and licking his lips. He probed her with his rough, pudgy fingers, and she screamed in pain. He slapped her to make her shut up, and Nadeen told him to get her wet first or she'd wake up everybody in the house with her screamin'. He looked kinda stupid for a minute, and then he pushed her legs apart and knelt between them. She thrashed, trying to evade him, but his mouth found her anyway, and she felt the wet ribbon of his tongue dipping into her. She cried and shut her eyes, and pretended he was gone. She fought back, willed her body to ignore his slippery probing, and for a while it had worked. She lay still and sent her mind on a journey across time and space, and he licked her ineffectually, grunting on his knees above her motionless hips.

Finally, Cletus lifted his dripping face and complained to Nadeen that it wasn't working, to which she replied that she wasn't in the least surprised cause he never did show much aptitude for it anyway, but to keep trying. He called her a "cold, old bitch" and said it was "her problem" and went back to work on Anne.

She fought the rising tide of her emotion, but the pressure of his lips and tongue on her was too much. She had felt the subtle stirring of sensation in her loins and she had sighed. Nadeen chortled gleefully and told Cletus that she was startin' to come around. She had moaned when Cletus's tongue entered her, and Nadeen released one of her hands so she could use it to press Cletus' head closer to her body.

Her head began to toss on the pillow and Nadeen stroked her face and hair and cooed at her that it would be all right, that they only wanted to make her feel good. Her hips lifted from the mattress toward the rapture of Cletus' tongue, and she heard Nadeen pronounce her ready.

She gasped when Cletus stood and removed his pants, revealing his erection to her, and shielded her eyes in embarrassment. She felt him nudging her, seeking her opening and tried to squirm away. Nadeen whispered soothingly in her ear for her to relax and enjoy it, not to fight cause she couldn't win.

He pinned her hips with his massive hands, and she couldn't move. He jabbed at her and missed and jabbed again. She was small and delicate, and he was anxious and in a hurry, and it made him inept. He grunted in frustration and grumbled to Nadeen that it wasn't working. Nadeen called him an "incompetent old fool" and reached across Anne's body to take hold of him and guide him right. "Do I have to show you how to do everthing, goddammit," she had said as she guided him to the girl and held him fast against her portal. "Now shove, you fool," she snapped, and he rammed so hard that he nearly crushed Nadeen's hand against Anne's pelvis.

She nearly fainted when he filled her, and her hands pushed ineffectually on his hips trying to dislodge him and diminish her pain. He overpowered her easily and plunged into her young, yielding body. "Jesus, she's a tight one," he grunted upon entering her. "Oooofff," she gasped breathlessly when he collided with her, and Nadeen warned him to take it easy and allow her time to get used to him. "Ain't like screwing one of them pigs out back, Cletus," she rebuked him. "You gotta give her a chance to loosen up a little."

He paused for a minute and Nadeen reached for Anne's breasts, taking her nipples between her fingers and playing with them. "She's got some nice tits on her, big firm nipples, too," she crooned, and to Anne's horror she felt her nipples tightening in response to the fingers pulling on them. She fought her responses, but it was a futile effort. She felt her body betraying her, answering their unwanted caresses with wanton lubriciousness, and she cried, "Noooooo, noooooo," but they continued, undaunted by her words and inspired by her body's responses.

He filled her, and she moved under him lewdly in spite of her revulsion, and Nadeen urged him on, saying, "Fuck her, Cletus, she loves it." And rightly so, for, to her shame, she did. It felt good; he felt good moving inside her, filling her with his hot turgid flesh, driving his spike into her again and again. Her nipples were aflame, tingling fire ran from her tits to her loins in a billowing conflagration of sensation. She opened to him, spreading her legs wantonly, arching her back, rising to meet his thrusts and gurgling with pleasure each time he filled her. She licked her lips with urgent passion and thrust her breasts at Nadeen's twisting fingers. She was horrified to hear her voice rising above the clamor of Cletus' grunting and Nadeen's hoarse encouragements, her words ringing clear and heated in the small room, "Yes, yes, do it to me, do it," and in that moment of her total capitulation to lust and the abandonment of all hope of control over her own body, she sensed that she was lost for all time.

Her focus wavered, and she squinted at Cletus hovering above her. Her loins screamed for release, and she felt her orgasm welling up from deep within her. He thrust into her soft flesh ferociously and growled at her, "Cum, you slut," and she convulsed about his impaling instrument in the desperate throes of her release.

She slipped from consciousness for a moment and was only vaguely aware of Nadeen snapping pictures as Cletus savaged her limp body. Dimly, she heard Nadeen warn Cletus, "Pull it out, Cletus, don't knock her up," and she felt a keen disappointment as he withdrew from her before he came, but she came to learn in the ensuing months that Nadeen had no patience at all for pregnant girls or babies either, on account of the attention and complications they bring on. She felt his hot seed pouring on her nude belly and breasts and blinked uncomprehendingly as Nadeen moved in to take close-ups of her slender, virginal fingers while they masturbated his spewing member.

Thereafter, of course, she had been helpless to oppose them in any manner and there followed in the months and years to come, a litany of depraved encounters orchestrated by the Caruthers and involving Cletus, Nadeen and many of the boys and one or two of the girls at the home. Her head shook in shame as she recalled the vile and degrading orgies the Caruthers had demanded she arrange; how they made her, forced her, to invite the boys into her tiny room to seduce them, while Nadeen and Cletus watched and snapped away through peepholes strategically drilled into her walls. Sometimes only one, other times more, but always performing to the Caruthers' scripts and always engaging in acts so deplorable and degrading as to defy description. She always refused at first, stamping her feet and tossing her head in disgust; "No, he's too young," or "Never, not with three of them," but in the end, her fear of the Caruthers drove her to capitulate to their demands. She always thought she could remain aloof, do what they told her and remain detached from it, but her body invariably betrayed her, and she would succumb to her lust, becoming a willing, even eager, participant. She hated herself, at times, and the awful gnawing need in her loins that robbed her of her self-control and turned her to sexual putty in the hands of anyone who forced themselves upon her.

She leaned against the wall and looked anxiously at the Headmaster. She battled the remnants of her panic and struggled to regain her breath to speak. "Be calm," her inner voice urged. "You can handle this; you've been through worse. Whatever he wants, you can survive it, endure it and go on." She shuddered, wondering which of the thousands of photos of her were there, scattered on Rufus' desk. What nasty acts do they depict her doing, she wondered, recalling the myriad filthy, degrading performances Cletus and Nadeen had devised for her. What, she pondered in that instant, with all that to choose from, did Rufus pick to purchase? How did this man's tastes run? Would he reveal himself to her in his choices? Or, perhaps, Cletus gave him no options and made the selection himself. No, she reasoned, for thirteen hundred dollars, Mr. Justice, would be doing the picking, and in spite of her revulsion, she felt the awakening chill of an unhealthy curiosity. "I need my job, Mr. Justice." She spoke softly, her tone moderated with resignation.

"That's what I thought. Get over here, then, and sit down." His voice was firm, but no longer harsh.

She gathered herself, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, and walked with as much dignity as she could manage to the chair, which he had indicated. It was a narrow, straight-backed chair without arms, and he had pulled it along side his. She sat down, and he immediately sat beside her. He reached across the desk and gathered the photos into a neat stack, which he placed on the desk in front of her.

"Just look at these pictures, Miss Anne," he chortled huskily. "I had no idea you were so, eh, ah, photogenic." He laughed mercilessly, and she was thankful that the growing darkness in the room concealed her blush of shame.

She said nothing, but, in spite of her resolve, she glanced surreptitiously at the photo on the top of the stack. Ohmygod, she gulped in shock. It showed her nude, lying across the butcher's block in the Caruthers' kitchen. Cletus was standing between her legs wearing his overalls, with his fly open and he was partly exposing himself. Her legs were upraised; her ankles rested on his shoulders, one on either side of his thick neck. The camera angle showed her whole bottom, naked and exposed, and Cletus' distended member, which he was in the act of inserting into her opening. He was holding on to her legs and appeared to be about to thrust into her. She was holding on to the side of the butcher's block with one hand to keep from being shoved off, and her head was hanging over the far side. One of the boys, Tim, she thought, was standing next to her exposing himself through his fly and she was masturbating him into her open mouth. Nadeen must have timed the shot perfectly, because the boy was caught in the act of ejaculating, and her lips and tongue were covered with his white fluid.

"My, my, Miss Anne," he chortled, turning the photo in the light to better admire it. "I had hoped that you could be as accommodating as you appear to be in this photograph; if you were approached with the right inducement, of course." She felt his hand on her knee and stiffened, but made no move to remove it or protest. She looked upward toward the windows high on his office wall and tried to ignore him. The sun had set and just a faint tinge of orange remained to color the edge of the growing darkness. She squinted at the darkening sky and imagined the streetlights along the highway far down the drive coming on and illuminating the deserted street with scattered circles of clean white light. She felt the heat of his palm through her skirt, and her heart sank like the setting sun. She closed her eyes to await the fate she was sure to come.

"Oh, gracious, my dear. Take a look at this one; isn't it wonderful?"

He squeezed her knee for emphasis, and she peeked at the photo he was brandishing in front of her. Oh no, she thought immediately, not that one, too. She had tried to forget them; to suppress the memories and move on with her life but some continued to haunt her through college and right up to this very day. She was naked and kneeling on an ottoman. Someone, faceless and nameless now, was standing behind her with his pants down around his ankles. It was impossible to determine from the photo exactly what he was doing, but he had her hips pulled up tightly against him and was obviously enjoying her. She was leaning forward and two, stark naked, little boys were standing directly in front of her. They were standing close together, so close their hips were touching and they were both, simultaneously, thrusting their diminutive members into her open mouth. She had a hand on each's buttocks and was encouraging and directing their efforts. The expressions on their faces were a mixture of delight and amazement, and, clearly, they were both close to orgasm cause their little hands were fluttering in her hair like tiny birds caught in netting.

Anne trembled and a soft sigh escaped her lips. She remembered that photo so well, so clearly, it was like yesterday that she had knelt there to take those children into her mouth, stroking their juvenile flesh with her heated tongue, coaxing them, encouraging them with her hands to give up their essence. She shut her eyes and sensed the taste of them lingering on her tongue. She remembered their heat, their excitement, and the featherlike beat of their pulses against her lips as they shuddered into their manhood.

She licked her lips subconsciously, and Mr. Justice caught her out of the corner of his eye. He caressed the top of her thigh with his sweaty palm, and thought that her tension had subsided.

"Oh my, look at this one, young lady. I do think you were enjoying yourself with this one."

Anne tugged at her collar. It was becoming warm in the small office. She squirmed in her seat uncomfortably and her movement, involuntary though it was, had the undesirable effect of sliding Mr. Justice's hand several inches up her thigh. She looked down and was startled to see his hand poised on her leg near the junction of her thighs. He had pushed her skirt up, exposing her thighs and the tops of her hose. She started to move his hand and straighten her skirt but thought better of it.

Her eyes lifted to the photo and she blushed again. The heat in the room increased measurably. His hand weighed heavily on her leg and felt hot on her flesh. The pressure of his hand pulled her attention from the picture and she felt a sickening tightening in her loins. Ohmygod, she gulped recognizing the signs and wrenched her focus toward the photo.

It was a frontal picture of her reclining in Cletus' naughahide recliner. She was naked, of course, and had spread her legs as wide as she could and they were hanging over the arms of the chair. Her belly and bottom were completely open and exposed. Her hair down there was wet and matted, and the insides of her thighs were shining with her wetness. She was obviously aroused; her fleshy parts were distended and engorged and flashes of bright pink tissue peaked through her wet curls. She was smiling at the camera and had two fingers inserted into her mouth suggestively. A large rubber dildo protruded from between her legs, and she was holding it in position with two fingers pressing on its base. It, too, was slippery looking and was coated with her moisture all the way to its base, giving the impression that she had just withdrawn the majority of it from her body.

Her shoulders jerked spasmodically as she stared blankly at her image. Cletus had made her buy it. Waited outside in his pickup while she went in alone, scared half out of her wits, into that adult bookstore across the tracks and behind the old railroad station. Told her to pick out "a bigun" and gave her twenty dollars. It had cost thirty, but she had unbuttoned her blouse a little and smiled at the clerk when she handed him the twenty and he got so distracted he gave her ten dollars back in change.

"You liked that pretty good, didn't you, my dear?" Rufus' voice called her back from the past. She could almost feel herself inserting the thing, feel it stretching her resilient softness to the point of tearing, then breaking through and sliding into her depths unimpeded. She nodded absently, still hovering near the margin of her memory, and Rufus' fingers brushed her panty-covered mound.

His touch startled her. She jerked her head toward him, eyes wide, searching, questioning, appealing for mercy. His caress upon her was like the touch of a welder's rod to metal, a hissing arc of light and a shower of hot sparks, and her loins melted at the heat of his touch. Rufus returned her gaze unabashedly, and felt the hot flash of her response on his fingers. She fought herself and him in her mind, conflicting purposes and desires entwining like opposing vines, twisting and contorting into trackless shapes. Her lips parted to voice a protest, but fear, or something akin to it, hushed her.

He stared at her. The photo dropped from his fingers and fluttered to the desk. He picked up her hand. She was trembling but did not resist. He placed her hand on his thigh and held it there. She was surprised at the tension in his muscles, and held her hand still, scarcely chancing to breathe. His hand pressed hers, and he forced her to caress his thigh in a small circular movement. Her fingers slid easily over the smooth fabric of his pants as he guided her hand. She glanced down in abject fascination as he directed her limp hand over the expanse of his thigh. He studied her closely as he brought her hand to the inside of his thigh, just above the knee. She stiffened slightly but didn't fight him. Her eyes were downcast, watching helplessly the progress of her fingers. He drew her hand higher toward his crotch, and she brushed against the firm bulge of his erection. Her shoulders sagged in defeat as she allowed him to place her hand directly upon him. Her head dropped slightly and she sighed in resignation. This was not new to her, this feeling of helplessness. She had been there before. You give them what they want and stay within yourself and they will go away and leave you alone.

He held her tightly against him, and she felt the surge of his need throbbing under her fingertips. He was hot and hard; pulse beating, thumping, making her fingers jump with the beat of his heart. He lengthened under her touch and swelled like a bodybuilder throwing out his chest and flexing his muscles for an admirer. Thoughts tumbled in her mind like lingerie in a clothes dryer as she tried to dodge the onslaught of her emotion. She had forgotten his hand on her leg, focusing only on his bulging erection and had ignored the bright streamers of pleasure his gentle stroking was producing.