We stopped in the dark suddenly.
I realized we were standing beside a red brick building that could only be the huge garage at the very back of the grounds. Built over a hundred years ago to house horse-drawn carriages, it was large enough today to hold at least a dozen cars.
“Go,” Velda said. “Up the stairs.”
She pushed me forward and then she and Ingrid marched me, barefoot and still in just my panties and skimpy nightie, up a flight of older wooden stairs that led up the outside of the building to the second floor.
“I'm going to get a splinter in my foot,” I said, the rough wooden stairs creaking beneath our combined weight. “These stairs don't seem safe. And I still have to really pee.”
Velda hit me between the shoulders, not that hard but enough to hurt. “Jesus Christ, kid, shut the hell up. Goddamn it, all you do is complain.”
“Duh. You kidnapped me.”
“You deserve it,” she said. “Doing that to Carol.”
I just shook my head. “It was an accident. So I don't deserve it.”
Velda just laughed.
“So sue us, slut.”
The little redheaded Ingrid laughed at that, too, then reached around me and opened a wide plank door at the top of the stairs. Light from within flooded the small landing we stood on. I could see someone standing there, right inside the doorway.
“Meet Jackson,” Velda announced.
And she pushed me inside.
Jackson's place over the school's garage was huge, a narrow but long loft-like apartment that apparently ran the length of the entire building. It was well-lit, had a very high ceiling, unfinished walls with plumbing and wiring showing, a minimum of furniture, and no windows that I could see.
A huge but older plasma TV was hung on one wall, a large sleeper couch across the room from it, the kind that pulled out into a bed. There were no other chairs or places in sight to sit. He apparently didn't have many visitors.
The only lavish touch was the carpeting, the same carpeting in Miss Hellview's private quarters (she must've gotten a great deal!), that deep burgundy weave-it felt like heaven on my bare feet after my night-time trek through the grass.
There were two or three doors down at the other end, at least one of which I assumed had to be a bathroom.
“I still have to pee,” I almost cried. I was actually cupping my crotch with my hand, holding it in. “Really bad.”
Jackson looked to each of my female captors for approval, and when Velda finally exhaled with annoyance but looked away, he pointed, “Second door down. And just relax, there's nowhere to run to up here.”
“Fine.”
As Maryanne and Pamela had described him, he really was a creepy looking guy, in his early 20's, I'd say, skinny with greasy looking long hair and a narrow, acne-scarred face. He had a tattoo of a spider web on his neck and a look in his almost-black eyes that seemed a little crazy. I had no idea whether Jackson was his first name or his last, and didn't care.
But I was definitely scared.
In the mostly unfinished bathroom, I closed the door behind me but discovered there was no lock. I really didn't have to pee, but I did have to be alone-as soon as Velda said we were going somewhere, I'd snatched my new cell phone from under my pillow in the dark, then been carrying it in my hand the entire time.
Neither Velda nor Ingrid even thought to check, and why would they? I was mostly naked and cell phones weren't allowed.
Anyway, as we climbed the stairs, and knowing we'd probably be coming to a lighted area, I'd covertly slid the tiny phone down into the crotch of my panties, between my legs, then held myself as if I really had to go.
Idiots.
It was easy enough to find my father's number in my uncle's cell phone. I was afraid they'd hear me talking, even if I whispered, so I sat on the toilet and texted him, hoping he'd get it sooner than later. It was almost three in the morning, after all.
'Daddy, big trouble. Call school, bad people doing bad things to me, in Jackson's, over garage. I don't know-'
A loud banging on the door ended my texting. I put my phone behind the toilet on the floor, and left it there, hoping they wouldn't find it. Then I stood up as if I'd just finished peeing and flushed.
“Hurry it up,” Velda said, opening the door. “Get out here.”
The sight that greeted me as she walked me back up the room to the sleeper couch was odd, to say the least.
Creepy Jackson was sprawled on one side of the couch in only a tee-shirt, his thin but longish cock standing up and being avidly sucked by little Ingrid. She was naked except for her tennis shoes, kneeling in front of him, her red hair pulled back out of the way and held by a rubber band behind her head.
Not the odd part.
Jackson had his eyes closed and was slowly, jerkily, pumping his hips in a semi-fucking motion, pushing his cock deeper into the little 14-year-old's sucking mouth with each bob of her head.
Still not the odd part.
A young but large German shepherd dog, both front paws encased in white socks and his snout held tightly by a little leather muzzle, was holding Ingrid around the waist and fucking her like there was no tomorrow. Which she was clearly loving, groaning with excitement, her pale tits swinging back and forth as she jerked her small bare ass back at the dog with every thrust of his big pink cock.
Even from where I stood, I could easily see the entire shaft of it disappearing repeatedly into her juicy red-haired cunt.
“He's in me so deep!” she mouthed around Jackson's slightly bent cock, licking and sucking it loudly. Her breathing was ragged and harsh. “God, he's fucking me to death! I love it, I goddamn love it, getting fucked so hard!”
Okay, that was the odd part.
Plus, I thought, the fact such a small 14-year-old girl could take such a huge cock into her tight pussy, whether dog or man. I mean, Bosco (that was the frisky German shepherd's name, I later learned) had a fat cock as big around as a fat salami, and it was going so deeply into little Ingrid's wetly dripping cunt I thought it'd come poking out of her mouth any second.
Of course, even if that was possible, it'd never happen because Jackson's stiff cock was already there. In underage Ingrid's willing mouth.
“Jesus,” I breathed, genuinely shocked.
Yet entranced. The wet sound of Bosco's hard and fast fucking, including Ingrid's raspy breathing and sharp cries of pure pleasure, even with her mouth on Jackson's dick, was starting to get to me. Like weirdly exciting me even more than I might've imagined. Not that I'd admit it.
“I don't believe this!”
Velda laughed. “Believe it, slut.”
And as I stood watching, rooted to the spot, the blonde 8th-grader wrestled a short but heavy wooden bench out into the room. It was well-padded on top and had several slots cut into the front and sides for some reason. She placed it next to Ingrid (who was still panting like an animal, frantically fucking doggy-style with the real thing), in front of the couch, before the empty spot next to Jackson.
“You're going to lick my pussy,” she told me.
She undid her jeans and pushed them down over her firm hips. She wasn't wearing panties, her crotch damp with clear excitement, the tiny swirls of her fine blonde pubic hair matted down. She was already so aroused, the slick lips of her luscious-looking cunt were seriously prominent.
“I missed out last night,” she said, “when you licked Carol and Ingrid. I was too busy fucking you and making you come.”
I didn't say anything, but I knew I'd do it. Lick her cunt.
My God, I actually wanted to! I realized I must be a lesbian trapped in a little girl's body or something. Just like my cousin Kimberly or her even littler cousin Amy. Oh well. I guess my whole family loved pussy.
“Get naked,” Velda told me, peeling off her top. “Make it fast.”
She wasn't wearing a bra either and her large round breasts were firmed up with the same excitement that'd gotten her cunt so wet, her big pink nipples standing at rigid attention for whatever came next.
Which we both knew involved me.
As soon as I'd shrugged off my nightie and slipped out of my white cotton panties, Velda grabbed the back of my tousled brown hair and pulled me to her, kissing me hard on the mouth as she'd done the night before.
I admit, love her or hate her, I kissed her right back, my small tongue finding hers and entwining with it as our lips stayed locked together for far longer than I expected. It kicked my heartbeat into high gear when she held me tightly against her, my skinny naked body warmly pressed into hers.
But when I squeezed one of her perfect breasts, unable to help myself as my fingers felt its firm heaviness and then searched for one of her distended nipples, she abruptly pulled back, breaking free.
“Enough, slut,” she said, a little breathlessly. And she pushed me down to the floor. “Kneel over the bench.”
I just nodded without saying a word.
When I bent over the padded top, she surprised me by coming up with a pair of padded handcuffs. Roughly grabbing my arm, she closed a handcuff around one of my thin wrists, looped the handcuffs through one of the cut-out slots in front of the heavy bench, and then closed the other handcuff around my other wrist before I could stop her.
“Hey!” I complained, held down and bent over with almost no room to move. I pulled on the handcuffs, trying to get free even though I knew they'd never come loose. On my knees, my bare ass was sticking right out there, I said, “You didn't have to handcuff me-I'd lick your pussy anyway, Velda.”
I couldn't believe I'd admitted it to her, but there it was: the awful truth.
But, unfortunately, Velda had a truth of her own, a scary one that I was about to discover.
“I know you would,” she shrugged, her big firm boobs jiggling deliciously as she moved. “And you're going to lick it, before we're done. But-”
And here she just walked away, disappearing and leaving me there, bound to the heavy bench so I was completely available for whatever she had in mind next. Which, considering what was going on with little redheaded Ingrid next to me, had to be something bad.