Shameless Ch. 01

"How many, huh?" Johnny reached up and squeezed her breast painfully. "Huh?"

"None!" she cried out frantically. "Oh, please leave me alone! Please!"

"None?" Johnny repeated.

"Hey," Larry croaked, "we got ourselves a real live cherry! This is going to be real fun, huh? Real fun!"

-two-

She hardly heard what he said, for a spasm of terror gripped her at the sight of a razor in Tom's hand. But he bent swiftly and slashed through the cord binding her ankles, and grabbed her roughly by the arm, hauling her off Johnny'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 ram-shackle 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," Johnny called. "We got them! And our hostage. Get a load of her boobs, huh?"

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

"Hey, Doris," Johnny 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," Johnny announced lasciviously. "Pussy!. Hot, wet, juicy pussy."

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

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

Larry came scurrying up on the other side. Larry 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!"

Larry giggled: "No good asking 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, honey pot!"

Doris made a slight grimace and turned away, and Tom snapped: "Get in the house, for Christ sake!"

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

With his hand still on her buttock Johnny 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.

Tom 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 Tom. He pointed at Linda and said: "Guard her."

The dogs sniffed at her, and turned away.

Tom 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 want to know what happens."

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

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

"They're very alert--superb watchdogs," Tom added meaningfully. "They've never let me down yet."

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

"All okay, Ed?" Tom asked.

"Uh-huh."

Ed'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," Johnny teased her, and she blushed.

Tom said: I'll let your hands loose, but remember the dogs, and don't go trying nothing 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 them out again," Johnny assured her. "Soon as you take your leak or crap or whatever."

"Across the hall," Tom told her.

She was disproportionately thankful to find that the small bathroom was recently cleaned. She washed her face clean of the dried semen Johnny 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. Johnny 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.

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

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

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

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

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

Tom said: "We're going to be here a day or two, schoolteacher. Then we're leaving the country. We ain't going to 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 and 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 trying 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 nothing 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 Coke Cola.

Then Johnny's voice:

"Miss Tyler."

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 something' real nice to look at."

She sat paralyzed. Until Tom 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 Tyler, so we can see them," Johnny 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," Larry gulped. "She ever do that in class, Johnny?"

"Nah. Would of been more interesting than all that history garbage. Hey, Miss Tyler, make your nips stand up. Play with them 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 them together," Johnny ordered hoarsely, and meekly she gathered the twin masses in her hands and forced them into an exaggerated cleavage.

"Yeah," Johnny breathed. "Larry, you ever fuck a broad between the tits?"

"Uh-"

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

"Yeah?"

"Go on--go give it a try."

"Yeah?" Larry 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 Johnny'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 old joystick," Larry 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. Larry gave an evil grin.

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

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

"Now," Larry went on, "what you got to do, see, is kind of lean forward a bit."

She leaned 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 them 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 them harder," he urged huskily."Tighter. Get them tight as you can round my cock..."

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 kind of hard that way--you're going to have to lay down so I can shove it up 'n down between them, see?"

She stared at him.

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

"The.. .floor?"

"Yeah. Lay down on the 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.

Larry was stripping off his pants and jacket and his under shorts. 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, Larry reached between his legs and scratched vigorously.

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

"Get them 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.

She 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 Tyler," she heard Johnny call, as from a great distance, "why don't you spread them pretty legs and bend them up so 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...

Larry 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 nothing more interesting 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.

"To Be Continued..."

Copyright-1993