Sweltings Academy Ch. 13

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Harmony/Ty's date; Coach Marshall asserts his authority.
2.9k words
4.46
19.3k
4

Part 13 of the 15 part series

Updated 10/20/2022
Created 08/03/2007
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**Note to readers--hang in there, a Mr. Ash chapter I think you will like is coming next week!**

Chapter Thirteen

There are girls who spend all week in the fall waiting for Friday night, pulled by the siren's call of the stadium lights. Girls who spend the weekdays planning spirit decorations and figuring out what to wear on the weekly spirit day. Girls who spend the threeish hours of the game gazing raptly at the shining white number emblazoned on the sacred jersey of her chosen warrior's uniform. At my old school, I used to roll my eyes whenever I saw one of those girls. Suddenly, I am one of them.

Five days after Mr. Ash gave me permission to date Ty, it was Friday night, the night I'd promised Ty I would see him. Of course, I'd committed the huge oversight of forgetting that Friday night was game night, so I'd have to actually spend it watching him from the stands if I was going to see him at all.

It was an away game, which doesn't quite cover the otherness of the field we arrived at. Ty's school, Hermitage, was by no means big, but this school was minuscule. Hermitage's thirty-member band took up the entire visitor's stands. Everyone else hiked over to the hill about ten yards away from the end zone and set up lawn chairs. A fence was behind us, and behind the fence were several contentedly grazing cows. The wind wafted the pungent smell of chicken houses across the field from time to time. Aubrey and I exchanged glances. We nonverbally considering picking up our stuff and just leaving. But then the team ran out and started warming up, and the chicken houses suddenly didn't seem so horrible.

During the game, Ty stepped onto the field exactly twice. He was third, possibly fourth string. I managed to entertain myself by watching the game and by finding him on the sidelines about every 2-3 minutes.

After the game (which we won, not that I cared much except I figured it would make Ty happy), I went down on the field to see Ty. The coach was giving the postgame talk, and Ty was on one knee with his hair hanging in damp strands around his face. His skin was covered with a sheen of sweat, and the blazing lights illuminated it so that he glowed like an angel. Maybe it was weird to think of a guy as an angel, but that was what he looked like. He caught me looking at him and grinned.

Kyle was kneeling next to him. My stomach clenched, expecting him to leer at me. Instead, he smiled a friendly smile at me and then elbowed Ty mischievously. Ty rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. The whole thing took about ten seconds, ten seconds in which the coach luckily did not notice their lack of attention to his stirring speech.

I felt an elbow in my ribs. It was Aubrey. "HEY!" she whispered. "Who on earth is that guy next to Ty??"

Oh for heaven's sake. Well, I guess they would actually fit together pretty well, come to think of it. "It's Kyle," I said. "He's kind of an arrogant ass, but he seems to be camouflaging a decent human heart of some sort."

The team was up now, huddled close together and jumping around in their postgame fervor. Before I realized they had broken apart, Ty was standing next to me.

"Hey, I hope you noticed, I've been perfecting my ability to stand nonchalantly on the sideline. It's taken years of practice."

I was smiling like a crazy person, but apparently Ty brought that out in me. I attempted to put on a serious face. "Yes, I noticed that you were able to stand better than anyone else on the entire field. Motionlessness suits you."

The team was beginning to trickle off the field. He said, "Yeah, but I guess this isn't the moment to practice it. Can you meet me back at the school? I feel like this was a supreme waste of a Friday night."

"Yeah, sure, although I wouldn't say it was a waste. I'm sure your vigorous standing was instrumental to Hermitage's win."

He smiled and took off at a jog, following the rest of his team.

About an hour later, he emerged at the school. Everyone else seemed to have already come and gone, and it was just the two of us. He came to stand in front of me, his hands buried in the pocket of his hoodie. We looked at each other for a moment.

He said, "It's really cool that you came to the game tonight. I know you like football about as much as I do."

I smiled. "After tonight, I'm thinking I like it more."

He laughed, and a tension I hadn't known was still inside me went away. Then he took his hands out of his hoodie and pulled me into a bear hug. I was a little surprised and overwhelmed by the warmth of him combined with the richness of his scent. Automatically, my arms went around his neck. I rested my head on his shoulder, the skin of his neck tantalizingly close.

He ruffled his fingers through my hair and mumbled, "You smell like cinnamon. I've given it some thought, and I think I like it better than the chicken houses we smelled earlier tonight."

I looked up sharply to make some sort of comeback, but I was immediately struck dumb by the expression in his eyes. He looked... happy. He looked at me like I was responsible for it. And luckily, I didn't have to make a comeback because he kissed me. I think he meant it to be a soft kiss, and it started out that way. But the gentleness he treated me with awoke something deep inside me, something that wanted to kiss him more. When he lifted his lips from mine, I breathed, "Don't stop kissing me," and he pressed his lips back against mine. He tightened his hands on my waist, pulling me closer to him. I buried my hands in his hair, which was incredibly soft and cool. Then his thumbs dipped beneath my shirt to graze the skin of my lower back. It was the most electric moment I had experienced, and I gasped into his mouth.

He lifted his head from mine and laughed shakily. I felt his reluctance as he moved his hands away from my skin and smoothed my shirt back in place. Then he took my hand in his. I looked at him curiously. "Come on," he said. "This night isn't over yet."

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but a late-late showing of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes wasn't it.

"You must be joking," I said as I examined the poster of the murderous fruit. "Are you trying to give me nightmares?"

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "If you're really that easily frightened, some nightmares would probably do you some good."

"Okay, fine, we'll go see this, but when a tomato comes swirling up out of my drain and leaves me in a bloody pulp on my kitchen floor, don't say I didn't warn you."

"You know, not to rain on your adorable pouting parade, but if a tomato does in fact murder you in the kitchen, I really don't think it will matter whether you've seen this movie or not."

I couldn't help it. He called me adorable. Plus he was so gorgeously smug that I had to unsettle him. I pressed myself into his arms and kissed him again, not too intensely, but intensely enough that I could tell he was dazed. I murmured, "Okay, fine, you win." Then I took his hand again, rolled my eyes, and led him to the line at the ticket window.

Five minutes into the movie, he was sound asleep, and I was cuddled against him. After twenty minutes of resting against the delicious warmth of him, a terrifying feeling began to well up inside me. I'd known Ty for barely a week, and the level of comfort I felt with him was positively unnatural. I was staring into his face, and a flush of happiness came over me when the tawny glimmer of his eyes shone through his lowered lashes. He looked down at me and smiled dreamily, then stretched.

"Glad to see we haven't been devoured by tomatoes while I slept," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, no thanks to you."

He smiled again, and then looked suddenly thoughtful. "You make it really hard to not kiss you." He traced my lips with his thumb, and I shivered. The look in his eyes was so intense that I had to lower mine.

Someone behind us cleared his throat loudly, and we both jumped a mile. I looked for the source of the voice with growing horror. Coach Marshal's face came into focus. Shit.

"Young lady, you may not be aware of this, but it is currently nearly 1 AM. Perhaps you have forgotten that our weekend curfew at Swelting is midnight?"

Shit shit shit. I was in so much trouble. "No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, I know when curfew is, but I didn't know it was 1 AM. Sir."

Coach Marshal grabbed my arm and jerked me to my feet. I couldn't help squeaking--it hurt. He said, "I think you need to come with me."

I chanced a glance at Ty, who was fuming. His fists were clenched. Shit shit shit shit shit. The last thing we needed was for Ty to hit Coach Marshal. At least not at the theatre. I said, "Ty, it's okay, Coach Marshal is right. I've had a great time, but I should go." There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn't say it in front of Coach Marshal. I trailed off and stared into Ty's eyes. He stared back at me.

As the silence lengthened, Coach Marshal turned his piercing gaze on Ty. "Young man, I would like to speak with you tomorrow morning. Alone." Then Coach Marshal pulled me outside and into his car. He drove off so fast that I clenched my fists around the door handle, terrified.

He was silent for a solid ten minutes, and I began to hope he wouldn't speak to me. He turned down a dirt road, and he slackened his speed slightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with anger. "What in the hell are you doing with that guy?"

I swallowed. "He's my boyfriend. Sir."

He laughed sharply. "Boyfriend. That's ridiculous. You're a whore. You're MY whore. My whore can't have a boyfriend."

"I'm not your whore. Sir. Whatever you've forced me to do before, I'm not going to do what you say any more."

He stopped the car. I had no idea where we were, but it was obviously the middle of nowhere. There wasn't even a road anywhere. Then he looked at me. "So what, that aimless, brainless, piece of shit kid is going to stop me?"

I wanted to slap him, but I knew he would only laugh. Instead, I used words. "No. I am. You can go fuck yourself."

He reached across the car abruptly, and I thought he was going to hit me. Instead, he tore my shirt open and began pulling it from my body. I started to struggle, but he finally got it and my bra off. Then he started working on my jeans. His voice was quiet but shaking with fury. "You are going to do exactly what I tell you, whore, or I am going to leave you here on the side of the road, naked and alone. Maybe someone would give you a ride, but I doubt it would be as nice as the one I'm going to give you."

I gulped. I finally went still as he peeled the fabric from my legs. I brought my hand up to his face and turned him to look into my eyes. "Please don't do this," I said.

He paused for a moment before thrusting his hand inside my panties and ramming a finger into my cunt. I clenched my legs together and moaned. I hadn't even noticed that I was getting wet, but his finger slid easily inside me. He said, "Slut, you obviously want this or you wouldn't be moaning like that. I could smell your sweet pussy juices the second I ripped your shirt off. Maybe you have a thing for that Ty guy, but you love what I do to you, too. And I'm going to do it whether you think you want it or not."

He moved his finger in a circular motion, and with an effort, I moaned, "Stop, stop, please don't." The words sounded unconvincing even to me, but I meant them.

He pulled his hand out, and without a word, he got out of the car. There was a vacuum in his absence, and I relaxed into the silence, trying to collect myself. Then my door opened, and he jerked me out of my seat. My skin tightened at the coolness of the night air. With a blush, I realized my nipples had already been hard, taut with anticipation. He forced me to bend over the side of the hood of the car. I shrieked when he mashed my breasts against the hard, cooling metal.

He laughed and said, "Go ahead and scream. There's no one around. They won't hear you, and I will like it more." Then he spread my legs farther apart and slammed his cock into me. I tried to get away, but he had my hands tight behind my back and I was trapped between him and the car. His rapid, deep thrusts didn't hurt, but I didn't want him inside me, and I kept begging him to stop.

He slowed his thrusts and pulled out. Then he spun me around and said, "Wrap your legs around my waist, whore. You keep telling me to stop, but you don't mean it. I'm going to fuck you so good now. I'm gonna make you cum again and again. You're going to want me to fuck you like this forever."

I whimpered, "No."

He lifted me up so that my ass was on the hood, and then he said, "Yes."

I did it. I don't know why, but I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him close to me. He laughed and pounded into me again. I stopped pretending like it didn't feel amazing. I clutched him against me as he rammed in and out, and I screamed in ecstasy.

"Tell me how you like it, whore," he grunted.

"Harder," I moaned, "Fuck me harder!"

It felt like he would split me in two with the power of his thrusts, and I screamed again and again as the pleasure became excruciating.

He was grunting, "Yeah, you're my whore, my fucking little whore, and I'm gonna fuck you whenever I feel like it, you dirty little bitch."

Revulsion tore through me, hatred so intense it brought goosebumps to my skin. It rippled through me like velvet, and then it rubbed against the sensations he was bringing my body. An orgasm exploded inside me, built from the hatred I felt for the man who was dominating my body and forcing me to feel pleasure I didn't want from him. I screamed, and as my pussy throbbed around his pumping cock, I moaned, "I fucking hate you..." and then I screamed, "Fuck me harder, don't stop! I hate you, but never stop!"

He brought me again and again with an intensity I never expected to feel. As I came down from my fifth orgasm, he stiffened and poured his spunk into my pulsing cunt. A falling leaf brushed my cheek, and it was dry and fragile but smelled sweet and real. Time slowed, and I saw myself, naked and pressed on top of a car in the middle of nowhere beneath a man who disgusts me. I thought of Ty, and how just an hour ago I was cuddled up against Ty, wondering if I was in love with him. How could I be, when less than an hour later I was begging an asshole to pound me on top of his car? But I did love Ty, I knew it for sure as the pain and shame of my body's betrayal tore through me.

"Get the fuck off of me," I said. I'm not sure what my tone was because my entire soul was screaming with rage and disgust and hatred, not just for Coach Marshal but for myself. He didn't move. Instead he brought his hands to my tits, crushing them, stroking them, pinching them. He made my cunt quiver again, the walls of my pussy caressing the meat he still had buried inside me. My body was betraying me. Tears trickled down my cheeks. I hadn't realized I was crying.

He said, "I've never made a girl orgasm so hard that she cried. God, you're a whore." Then he laughed and finally pulled out.

It was 3 AM when we got back to Swelting. Coach Marshal left me outside my dorm, and I went in to appease him. I was shivering uncontrollably and crying steadily but silently. I clutched the torn edges of my shirt. I had broken the rules, and I had broken them in a major way. Not the Swelting rules, but my own rules. There was only one solution. I would have to go to Mr. Ash and ask him to punish me. Immediately.

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AnonymousAnonymousover 16 years ago
write more

totally great story i want more as are the rest

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