Maryon approached initiation time next year with mixed feelings. She knew, vaguely, that she would be humiliated and degraded upon her entrance to the 'underground' 'Bare-Stud-Cat' society but she was at the mental and physical stage where she just didn't care.
Jim Harris had never shown up again, giving the quarrel with her mother as the excuse, though Lois, despairingly, put herself down and pleaded with him to come back and give her another chance. Since then Lois had taken to going out at least four nights a week to the neighborhood bars, deeming Maryon old enough not to need a babysitter. Karen seemed more and more to be engaged in mysterious, lonely projects of her own so, when Sylvia Matherly, condescending to her fourteen years from her sixteen, took her aside one day at break and asked her if she wanted to join the clandestine club, she shrugged and said yes.
The 'Bare-Stud-Cats', it was rumored in wondering whispers, were about twenty of the most rebellious of the Wingering Experimental School for Boys, with perhaps a dozen of the more daring of the otherwise straightlaced St. Joan's older girls as a kind of unladies' auxiliary. Disclosure of what went on at their highly unauthorized random-selected and timed 'come-togethers' was peculiarly and painfully punished, it was said. Whatever the reason, none but the members knew how and where they spent their time, and it was considered a dubious honor to be asked to join.
Maryon had received her instructions on a read-and-eat section of (unused!) toilet-paper. She was to come alone, at seven of a Friday evening, to the small gym of the Wingering school, telling no one of her impending visit. She was to wear – the instructions precisely spelled it out – gym costume under a raincoat, no bra, no panties, rubber-soled boots.
With a quick, sure look behind and around her to see she'd not been followed and that there were none to observe her illicit entry in the place, Maryon carefully closed the gate behind her and walked swiftly and noiselessly in her boots to the gym door. The tiny foyer was dark, someone had removed the bulb. But as she stood there in the blackness she heard someone move, someone who knew where she was standing, oriented to her by her silhouette as she'd come through the door. With no word of explanation or introduction, a pair of hands touched her body, then ran up to her face. Something was placed over it and she almost panicked until she realized that some kind of mask, with no eye-holes, but curved and fitted to leave her nose and lips free, was being adjusted with straps that went over her head and beneath her ears. As soon as it was in place, she heard a light click on, a last tug was given to the straps, then hands ran lightly over her body, unbelting and unbuttoning the white trench coat she wore and sliding it from her unprotesting shoulders before patting her to check, presumably, that she'd perfectly obeyed the orders she'd been given.
She knew what they… he… she…? could see, her blonde hair cut short so that golden curls hugged her cheeks, framing her clear, clean, creamy complexion, slightly turned-up nose, and lips that insisted on remaining over-full and childish despite her experimentation with lipsticks… a firm, rounded chin and a rather long, slim neck that was now circled by the polo-neck of her white, cotton-and-wool, long-sleeved rib-wristed, tight-fitting gym sweater. Hugging her every contour, stretched like a second skin over her firm, high-held, berry-tipped grapefruit of breasts, the single garment swept down along her flanks, showing the subtle indentations and rises of her ribs, before being cut off from view just above the hollow of her navel and the lean thrusts of her hips by the elastic-topped brief blue synthetic-silk of her shorts that, with brown piping at sides down to the three-inch slits there, nestled high-legged into her crotch and smoothed themselves over her out-curved cheeks as unwrinkled and conforming to their swelling pressure as the fabric sheathing the globe of a hot-air balloon.
But, effectively blinded herself, she could see nothing, not even the hint of light beyond the mask, and so let herself be led forward, not without some inner apprehension which she did her best to conceal from whatever audience was around her. From memory of a couple of previous visits she knew she was being led, by a hot hand at her elbow, into the gym proper, and as she carefully negotiated the short flight of steps which went down to the planked wooden floor, she recalled the set-up.
Directly across from her as she entered the low door, some thirty feet or so, was a wall banked by wall-bars. Against the walls at left and right would be, respectively, a variable height wooden box-horse and a four-legged, leather-cylindered horse with a pair of vaulting handles, and a set of parallel bars and a pile of rubber mats. Four pairs of ropes would be hanging down from the beamed ceiling, and across the width of the gym, halfway down its length to her left, would be the bar, perhaps lowered, perhaps hauled up out of the way. Against the walls immediately to left and right of the entrance door were stacks of low benches, not much used for exercise, but forming a convenient set of bleachers for whoever was not performing on the apparatus. As she came into the small, lofty hall she felt the presence of people in those bleachers… a short, nervous laugh here, a couple of words in a subdued tone there… an air of inhabitance everywhere. A boy's voice at her ear told her to obey exactly whatever order she received, told her to turn about to face her peers, told her she stood in the exact center of the gym, told her to answer truthfully.
Maryon, her pulse beating rapidly, nodded her head to show she understood, and stood patiently replying to the catechism put to her… her age… her statistics (five-one, ninety-five, thirty-four, twenty-two, thirty-one)… the state of her virginity (no questions asked as to its loss) her general knowledge of the Bare-Stud-Cats purpose…
Then began the ordeal of initiation. First she was asked to show them the soles of her boots, which she did. The ridged rubber soles belonged to the only boots she possessed, shiny black fur-lined leather that fitted snugly to just below her knees without benefit of zipper, the tops turned back down a couple of inches to disclose a thick band of fluffy white. Her choice appeared satisfactory and the lone mysterious voice, also a boy's, told her to climb the ropes that would be put into her hand. Running the two lengths over and around one foot and clamping down with the other, Maryon pulled herself up until she was told to stop, judging she was a couple of body-heights from the floor. Here she was told to reverse herself and, feeling odd in her blindness and somewhat disoriented, she released her feet from the ropes and, taking a firm grip with her hands, swung her body up and over until she hung head downward, her booted feet once again wrapped around separately by the ropes. A command ordered her to slowly descend and, the blood rushing to her head, she slid down until told to stop again. Without warning she felt hands on her body and someone inserted his fingers into her shorts, gripped the edge of her sweater, and pulled it down so that her breasts swung free, nakedly hanging out from her as she hung there. The sweater was deftly rolled until it formed a tight band under her arms and then the hands moved caressingly up her belly to her shorts and under them, so that she quivered to the touch of fingers on her cunt under the tight silk.
Next the voice told her to release her feet and swing over backwards, so that now she hung by her twisted arms, facing her audience, and the same pair of hands rolled down the top of her shorts, pulling up into her crotch so that she knew she revealed the lower swell of her belly, the valleys between abdomen and thighs, and her golden cluster of curls, with her quim starkly outlined by the stretched silk. Behind her the inquisitive hands continued between the cheeks of her ass which, in any case, hung barely out above the band of blue silk. Meanwhile knotted loops must have been made in a pair of other ropes, for the hands bent her legs at the knee, one at a time, and inserted them into the loops so that she hung face down and spread-eagled. Her hair was unceremoniously gripped and her chin jerked up, and she was set to swinging, at first gently, then in longer arcs, swooping toward her inquisitors with her pendant breasts dropping pear-shaped down from her, her bare balls of butt thrust up into the air as she jack-knifed her body to perpetuate its diving through the air. She heard footsteps about her and now many hands let her swinging, unprotected body play under and over them, their touch so rough sometimes that she was forced to lift herself by her already straining arms in order not to have her titties bang painfully into some human obstruction. As she writhed and twisted for them, the taut muscles of her thighs worked on her so that her cunt felt open, and each new swing cut the blue silk more deeply into her, so that she knew she spanned it with her young and liquid lips.
After a while they tired of this amusement and, releasing her feet, let her gratefully stand up. Solicitous hands pulled down her tight white sweater over her heaving breasts, but then continued on down to tug at the sliver of shorts until they slid down her legs, where she was told to step out of them. She could feel the lower edge of the sweater band about her lower belly and just above the inward curves of her ass as they swept sweetly into her thighs, and shivered as she faced them, naked from knee to navel, pretty well. She was next led over to the wall-bars and reached behind her to the highest bar above her head. Her legs were parted and the heels of her boots hooked over the bottom bar, then she was told to 'walk' up the wall as far as she could. As her legs bent at the knees and, inch by inch, she moved her feet alternately up the poles, her body was thrust forward in a great arc, suspended by her arms in their tight covering of sweater, her breasts ovalled and flattened by the pulling strain, and her gold-fuzzed pussy pushed out to its greatest prominence. When her knees were bent at right-angles and she could climb no more, her ankles were seized and pulled still further apart, and then, as she hung defenseless, fingers began to rove her lower body, tickling her thighs, plucking at her labia, pulling them open so that pairs of fingers could be slid into her. She throbbed and quivered as biting kisses were delivered onto her exposed parts, and tongues and teeth were employed to titillate her clitoris. Her vagina was full of oozing moisture and, as someone's small fist was pistoned into her, wriggling its knuckles for purchase so that she silently struggled against the raking pain, the sounds of suction echoed in the place above the heavy breathing all about. With a great deal of expertise, they worked on her until she was just about ready to explode with desire, then desisted and let her stew before starting again.
Without preamble she was ordered down, turned around, and told to reverse her former position, so that now her unprotected ass was at their mercy, pushed out at them in all its rosy nakedness, and they again played with her, fingering her cunt as it bared its pink-lipped slit below her, moistening the tunnel into her tight brown asshole and plunging a finger into it till it met the tight first corner of the tunnel, sending startled and delighted shocks through her which they could not fail to notice.
And once she was sure that a hot-headed prick had been rubbed up against her, but it didn't enter, and she couldn't be sure.
By this time it wasn't the indignities being visited on her that gave her any thought, but the sheer aching pain on her arms and legs, so she was glad when the footsteps receded and her parts were relieved of their probing. Ordered to get down again, she walked with throbbing thighs and sore crotch to where the hand on her arm next led her. Standing, she wasn't sure where, the sweater was at last stripped from her to leave her solely in mask and boots. She soon found that she was not to be left alone to be merely stared at. Instead she was bent forward until, stretching, she could feel the cold leather of the box-horse, then hastening hands on her ass sent her forward until the crease of her thighs was shivered by contact with the leather. On instructions she laid herself along its length, on her face, cringing as the coolness of the material touched her belly and breasts. But not for long was she to be left on ice for, without warning, a stinging slap was delivered to her upthrust haunches, followed by an equally as scorching blow on her other cheek. Now they came like hot rain as, evidently, the whole crew took turns to buffet her bare and boldly offered backside. At first the slaps brought tears to her eyes under the mask, and she almost broke down and begged to be released… this seemed to be just so much sadism. But then, as the descending fingers, some flat, some cupped, continued to extend the territory they so fleetingly but tinglingly covered, their effect, she was surprised to find, was to stimulate her sexually, both by virtue of an ultimate relaxation of herself to whatever they would do to her, and to be spanked like a child was about the most humiliating thing she could imagine, and by the pressure of the leathered-edge of the horse against the fragile-seeming bones of her pelvis, which steadily built an increasing pressure in her groin until she felt she must either piss or perish of a lovely and lascivious lassitude.
From halfway above her knees to the small of her back she was a roseate, glowing mass of sensation, and when at last they finished and she was allowed to get up, she felt deliciously, feverishly bruised, and almost fell to her knees from the ache.
In a daze she let herself be led next, stumbling her oddly heavy-footed way across the planked and polished floor, to where they had creakingly lowered the walking bar. Fearfully she wondered if they expected her to get up there and walk it, blind and shaky-legged, but with a sigh of relief she understood that she had merely to hang from it by her arms and swing her way along it back and forth several times. Dimly she imagined what a sight she must make for their avid eyes, clad only in the mask and her shiny black white-fur-topped boots as her straining body bounced and bobbled her nude breasts and her twisting hips by turn excitingly covered and concealed the gape-lipped young pink juiciness of her cavorting quim. Again, as she finally hung there from bone-aching wrists, eager and predatory hands probed and pried at her, sliding into her ready cunt, ravaging her outraged rectum, lifting and squeezing her breasts as though she were fruit in the market, tormenting her tender ass with great pinches of tortured flesh between finger and thumb till she felt like a side of beef being appraised at a butcher's.
Still with only brief, low-pitched words to guide her, she at last dropped from the beam and stumbled over to where the pile of rubber mats had been stacked so that, as she was pushed back on them, her booted feet just was clear of the floor. Painfully conscious of the ridges of rubber beneath her burnished bottom, she tiredly but obediently parted her legs and fell back with outstretched arms, knowing now that she was to be faced with the ultimate test and already feeling her eager nipples send their aroused shocks through her expectant body.
Almost immediately she was subjected to myriads of shades of strong and subtle stimulation. Some of them, boys and girls alike, had apparently stripped themselves while others, it seemed, had only partly denuded themselves. Before they'd finished with her, or she with them, Maryon judged they'd all participated in one way or another. In her blindfolded state, and with the delectably confusing sensations breathtakingly and mind-fillingly engendered in her, she could never hope to recapture exactly the order and manner in which they satisfied themselves on and with her. The evening became to her memory a lost living legend of lust, full of peaks and valleys and climbs and drops.
Sometimes a hand on her wrist would encourage her to grasp a hot hard stem of flesh and gently stroke or furiously frig it. Or it might be nylon-stockinged legs that would part to let her pulsing fingers slide into a wet and unknown cunt like clenching calipers. Twice by the taste a twinkling twat presented itself to her questing lips for a kiss, and another discreetly covered her head within the confines of a hot and humid skirt before edging along to place its pelvic bones firmly between her jaws so that coarse hairs wound their way between her teeth as she obligingly munched. Her breasts were continuously ravaged by a round of chewing, biting, nipping, sucking mouths until she could feet her young cherries of nipples swell to bursting point and her puffed areolas corrugating to agonies of stirring sensitivity. And all the time at the center of her sex were foreskinned pricks and bare-headed bones; long-nailed roving fingers that raked her succulent flesh like razors, and blunt-ended ones that toyed tantalizingly with her tremorous clitoris; sharp-tipped tongues that impudently prodded into her, and duller, broader ones that were content to lick and lave her unprotesting and protuberant little labia. Hands fondled and caressed and kneaded and tickled her so that she writhed in exquisite delight under their never-ceasing embraces. Now a hot, struggling nude body would lie heavily upon her while helpful hands opened her up and slid the stranger's leathered loaded length into her, briefly… now a cockless crotch would jerk fitfully raspingly against her own and softer lips would search about her mouth with urgently desirous response… now hands would reach beneath her and rend her callipygian cleft while a voided sensuous mouth hotly supped on the split semi-spendings of a former occupier… now a lean and rubbery smooth and slender prick would bob for a moment against her cheeks before, her jaws prised roughly open, it found a honeyed haven. And meanwhile her hands were busy at breast and ball and cock and cunt, her desire mounting at a squared rate to theirs until she cried out around a mouthful of pendulous bollicks and twisted her head and petulantly pounded her hips up and down on the rubber mats, and reached and hooked with her black-booted legs to drag someone, something, any one or thing, into the hollow-echoing emptiness between her burning thighs that, mute, could not itself cry out for the filling it craved, mouth and mutter as it might.
Even so at least two of the boys shot their fiery sperm into her depths before she reached her first agonized orgasm, leaving her in the short interval between their insertions a sobbing, wrestling wreck who thought for a despairing second that they would cruelly let her suffer and so increased to a frenzy her manipulations upon someone's silken bag of nuts with one hand and a bulging, burgeoning bundle of flaring flesh with the other, with the immediate result that twin spurts of warm wet cream shot slithering along her arms. Giving thanks as the second, slimmer length was placed against her puckering lower lips and pushed within, she squeezed her handfuls dry and felt them replaced by another plump prick and a hot hollow that clamped about her paired fingers like a rubber glove.
Her own vagina began to clench and quiver uncontrollably as the intruder began to slide smoothly in and out of it, and she would have gasped at each incredibly reaching incursion had her throat not been blocked by the domed end of a meaty hot-dog of a prick that was engaged in dripping its mustard into her. At last her volcano overflowed and hot lava melted away her walls as, with eager, striving lips, she let the swinging hammer between her thighs batter away at her cervix and breach the last quivering crack in the innermost recesses of her yawning chasm. Golden magna scorched her and, as if blocked by the still plunging piston of prick that now, too, was jetting into her, the glorious glow backed up and filled her boiling belly. And soon her whistling breath was escaping into some new luscious questing quim athwart her jaws as a third battering-ram charged up her galvanized gulley and thudded imperiously at her closing gates to demand entrance… which demanded request she acceded to with redoubled pleasure.
Each new entry was welcomed into her marinating maw until she lost count of the number of times she liquidly, lovingly, lasciviously spent her cuntish kisses on the invaders. Whether those she masturbated to magnificent maturation also plucked up enough new Cassanovan courage to enter her, she didn't know. Or whether he that, kneeling over her, straddled her waist and jerked himself off between her creamy, satiny breasts with the aid of at least one girl – her breast dipped brushingly into Maryon's mouth like a small, shapeless silken bag with a marble in its end – also, shrived and shaven, entered her seminary in search of guidance and fulfillment…
Toward the end she only was dimly aware that she was the blind center of a pile of wriggling, sweaty, cum-smeared, spittle-slobbered bodies whose every touch to her flesh sent darts of desire from their point of contact direct to her clamoring cunt, and whose often ineffectual, jaded javelins left still unrequited quarts of quim-oil in the rubber barrels of her bowels.
Later, led to a washroom, she finally emerged, dressed, to find the gym deserted and somewhat crudely cleared up.
Numb in mind and body, her psyche soothed and shocked by turns of memory, she thoughtfully and wearily went home, grinning ruefully at the fancy of her mother's reaction, should she ever learn where she'd been this evening. But Lois wasn't home yet.