Dee sat in her car, wrists against the steering wheel, watching seconds tick over on the luminous dial of her watch. She was parked behind the student dormitories, two minutes up the back stairwell from Billy's door, and it was almost time. Ten minutes. Not to waste arguing with herself. She was done with that days ago. This was ten minutes to be spent in delicious anticipation. She’d decided to brazenly do it in his room, where she’d first watched him near-naked. That would be the ultimate turn on, and fitting, because after all, her first foray into adultery was a monumental occasion.
The only other monumental sexual occasion in her life had been almost two decades ago, and it had left scars that defied healing. All the gentleness, luxury and companionship James had offered over the years, even the satisfaction of her own career successes — none of it had been able to wipe away the stains of that encounter. And now Billy had opened the wound.
It had been almost twenty years since that first awakening, and hardly a week went by that she didn't remember it, re-experiencing the terror and the sickening excitement. Would it be like that for Billy tonight? No. Billy probably wasn't even a virgin, and the only power she held over him was his desire for her. She could never be cruel to him. Demanding perhaps, but not cruel.
The dark man of her memory, the one who had controlled her had been all-powerful and she'd been helpless in a way Billy could never be. The way no man would ever be. That was what cut the deepest. The injustice.
She focused on the watch again. Five minutes. Then she'd have to get out and start walking. To Billy. And when he let her in? Would she fulfil his fantasies, or her own?
Her mind drifted back to her last year of high school. There had been no question of fantasies then. There had only been orders and obedience. And pleasure…
"Yes, that's it, little one. Suck it hard like that, up and down and then flick it with your soft little tongue. A bit more. Lick the top, as though it was a lolly pop and you loved the flavour of it. What's your favourite flavour?"
"Strawberry, Sir," Wendee murmured from around a mouthful of slippery penis.
"Mmmm. Strawberry. Pretend it's a strawberry lollipop that you can't wait to eat. Lick it all around so you can get all the flavour off and then suck the top of it again. Oh yes, Wendee. That's good. I've taught you well."
Under the desk Wendee could feel the familiar tightening of his penis inside her mouth. She prepared herself for the unpleasantness that was to follow, but the penis was suddenly withdrawn and she sat back in surprise.
"Come with me, Wendee," he said, his hand reaching down under the table to pull her out. It was getting late, almost dark and Wendee dreaded her mother asking why she was so late, again. Why hadn't he let her finish and go home?
"We're going to the store room. I've got something to show you." He led her out of the classroom with his penis protruding from his dark grey pin-stripped trousers and Wendee felt an almost hysterical urge to giggle. It looked like a pale wobbly snake that had crawled into the wrong place and was trying to escape.
If only the parents who doted on his 'proper, authoritarian method of teaching' could see him now, they'd probably die of a heart attack. They certainly wouldn't believe Wendee if she told them what he'd asked her to do. She’d already been ostracized by her classmates, two years older than they were, held back twice in primary school because her mother had made her spend so much time helping on the farm.
And yet she knew she could say 'No' to him at any time, and remembering that gave her some small measure of control. Unfortunately, if she wanted to be given the marks she deserved, the marks she'd earned, she would do as he asked.
"Come in here and we'll finish that test," he said, holding the door open. Inside the small room were shelves of books and stationery, a stool and an old photocopy machine on a wooden table. It smelt of dust and ink, and as she stepped inside she felt a claustrophobic foreboding.
The door clicked and rattled behind her, then she felt, rather than saw him edge around to stop in front of her, his large shadow blocking the feeble dusk-light that filtered through the dirty window. A powerful sensation of entrapment gripped her, and goose-bumps prickled her bare arms.
"Good girl," he said softly, his voice oddly disembodied. "Now, take your panties off and give them to me." He moved slightly and she heard a creak as he leant back against the table to give her room.
Her heart began to beat more quickly.
"My panties?" Her voice sounded small and frightened in the darkened room.
In the past he'd only wanted her to stay back after school to touch him, to suck his penis and to stroke it with her tentative hands, hiding under his desk while he pretended the rest of the class were still there. Once she'd even heard him murmur, 'Never mind what I'm doing, Sally Wentworth. You get on with your reading,' a second before the hot, salty fluid had spurted into her mouth. He'd never wanted more than that, and yet now he wanted her to take her panties off.
Surely he wouldn't…
"You don't want to… put it in me, do you?" she asked, genuinely frightened by the thought. She'd never considered he might want to go that far. Her mother's litany of complaints on the subject of 'the ugly business', as she called sex, had created a terror in her daughter that had suppressed any natural curiosity. Wendee had been prepared to suffer unpleasantness in the pursuit of her scholarship, but actual pain…
"Take them off and come to me," he ordered, more forcefully this time.
"I'll do the other thing. I'll do it twice if you want me to," she whispered, backing up to the door, reaching around for the handle.
"You can't get out without the key," he said, holding up something that glinted dully in the faint light. "Now be sensible, Wendee," he turned and put it up on a high shelf behind himself as he spoke, "and take those panties off or you're going to be really late."
She stood her ground, and after a moment his voice dropped into a coaxing tone. "You did so well on that maths test, Wendee. You deserve an A, but you know you'll get a D unless you do what I want. Don't you?"
"Yes, Sir." She stared at the pale silhouette of his penis, visible against the dark background of his trousers. It suddenly seemed larger than she'd remembered.
"Just this little test, and then if you're good next week after the chemistry exam you'll get that scholarship you want and it'll all be over. Now take those panties off, and do it quick. I'm starting to lose my enthusiasm."
Wendee paused a second longer. She could say no and be reasonably sure he'd release her, but then everything she'd done before would be for nothing. He'd said there was only this time and one more. And she'd promised herself she'd do anything to achieve the dream. At some point in her life she had to have sex. Why couldn’t it be now? It all sounded logical but the very idea of it curdled her stomach, and that wasn’t helping. She must think of this as a test of her body's strength, instead of her brain's. She could do it. She quickly slipped her panties off.
"Good girl. Now give them to me."
Wendee handed over the faded pink bloomers, tugging her pleated skirt back down, wishing it came below the knee. She watched his pale hands fondling the panties for a moment before he brought them to his face and breathed deeply, staring at her over the edge of them.
"Nectar," he said softly. "Waiting for the bee."
Fear stabbed at her then, but mingled with it was a strange sickly excitement. "Don't hurt me."
"You shouldn't have teased me, little one, if you didn't want to spread those pretty legs. But don't worry, it won't hurt and you'll like it. I promise."
"It will hurt," she said, her gaze flicking from his huge penis to the shelf where the key lay. "And I won't like it." But inside herself something was stirring, and when he reached across and touched her breast, she shuddered as much with surprised pleasure, as with revulsion.
He smiled. "We can stop if you want and I'll unlock the door." His hands caressed both small breasts before moving to undo her shirt buttons. "But I don't think you want to do that. Do you, Wendee?"
Flattened against the door with his penis hard on her belly, she felt her shirt come open, but instead of fear there was only the wonder of this new tingling awareness that suffused her body. The tightness behind her breasts seemed to have strangled her blood supply, making her oddly light-headed, and behind her closed eyelids she imagined she could see with her skin.
He pushed the shirt over her shoulders, his movements more urgent.
"Take it off. Take off the bra," he ordered, and she struggled to comply, her hips writhing against his as her arms fought their way out of the sleeves. Then he leant in, his arms on the door above her and she was forced to press her breasts against his chest as she reached behind herself to undo the bra. Fumbling, she managed to get it off and drop it to the floor on top of her shirt.
But even with her cold back against the door there was no escape. Through the thin fabric of his shirt she could feel his coarse chest hairs chafing her tender breasts, his hot breath on her forehead.
He tilted his head to whisper in her ear. "That was good. Rub against my cock some more."
The angry red shaft lay half on her skirt with the glistening tip touching her bare skin and she was loathe to move in case it spurted on her, but so strong was the habit of obeying his commands that she did as he asked, resting her weight on the balls of her feet and shimmying up and down and around.
An unexpected sensation of power touched her as she listened to his moans of pleasure, and felt on her skin the slight stickiness she'd come to associate with the moments before his seed erupted. She should have been repulsed, or at least uncomfortable, but instead she felt… dizzy.
" Yes," he whispered on a sibilant hiss and despite her excitement, she stilled. His voice worried her. It was… different.
He pulled away to look down at her, his eyes slightly unfocused. "Pretty little tits," he murmured as he cupped her them with his palms. Then he squeezed, and deep inside her stomach Wendee felt the fluttering evolve into something unrecognisable. Her cheeks flamed, her mouth went dry and the darts of pleasure arrowing around her body from where he was touching her breasts seemed shockingly intense, as thought he'd caused her pain. But he hadn't, he wasn't.
"You like that, don't you, Wendee?" He reached up to release her ponytail and coax her thick hair down around her shoulders. Then he lowered his body and latched his mouth on to one breast, his tongue rough and hot as it laved the tiny pink nipple. He sucked it hard and she felt her knees weaken. It was so…
"Do you want to stop, Wendee?" he asked, teasing the painfully hard tip with his tongue.
"I'm frightened," she managed to whisper past numbing lips. Her brain felt as though it was alight.
One of his hands slipped under her skirt, brushing against her downy pubic hair and she lurched in his arms then went still, quivering as his mouth slid across to the other breast and his fingers explored the virginal territory even she wasn't familiar with. She began panting, only to jump again a moment later.
"So tight," he said, "but don't worry. We can work around that." And his clever fingers went back to stroking and teasing, sliding through the gathering slickness as Wendee lay panting against the door, her knees buckling and her brain filling with white noise. She felt sickened and explosively excited at the same time. I can stop. I can stop, she told herself.
Then he drew back. "Suck me again."
Obediently she collapsed to her knees, knowing they wouldn't have held her much longer. Her thighs trembled, as did her hands as she fumbled in the darkness to grasp his penis and close her lips over it.
"Suck it hard," he ordered harshly. "All the way to the bottom."
Wendee complied, feeling the tip press against the back of her throat, almost gagging her.
"Harder." He grabbed hands full of her hair and bucked against her mouth twice, then shuddered as the hot seed sprayed against the inside of her cheek and slid down her throat.
Wendee felt tears running down her cheeks, not knowing if they were from fear, revulsion, or the terrible excitement that still throbbed inside her. She sat back on her haunches and scrubbed her eyes, feeling her breasts tense and ache from the movement. They wanted to be touched. She wanted them to be touched. She was so confused.
"Stand up," he ordered, his voice surprisingly harsh considering how pleasant he usually was after she'd completed her test. "You've been very bad, Wendee," he said. "You didn't do that properly."
She shook her head in confusion. "I'll do it again if you — "
"So bad," he said loudly, "that I'm going to have to spank you."
"No." She backed up against the door again, her gaze flicking up to where she knew the key lay. He was mad. She had to get out. "My mother will come looking for me," she said, glancing down at the pale mound of her shirt and bra on the floor, wondering if she should make a grab for them.
"Your mother won't come for you because she's bad too, but I don't want to punish her," he said, his voice suddenly sly. "I only like to spank young girls bottoms. And I won't hurt you, Wendee. You know I already promised that. In fact, I'm sure you're going to like it." He moved to sit on the stool and reach out a hand. "Just a little smack on that soft pink bottom. All right?"
He was sitting in a pool of faint light and she could see his penis was already starting to stiffen again.
She'd never known an adult to change their mood so quickly — from happy to angry to sneaky — not even her mother. It was frightening. But she remembered that he'd never hurt her. And her breasts ached to be touched. "All right," she said and took his hand, letting him arrange her across his lap where she felt his penis prodding her belly. Then he lifted her skirt and exposed her bare buttocks.
"Perfect," he whispered, and slid his fingers gently across the soft cheeks, kneading with both hands before gliding one down into the cleft, parting her thighs to caress her in the spot he'd found earlier. She bucked and bit her lip as a wave of pleasure shot through her. "All so new to you isn't it, little one? I told you you'd like it," and he stroked her there again and again, making her writhe and moan aloud. Then without warning he withdrew his hand and cracked it down hard on her tender flesh.
The pleasurable noises choked in her throat, and in the silence of the darkened, dusty room all that could be heard was the steady rhythm of his hand against her reddening flesh and her strangled sobs.
After several minutes he asked, "Do you want me to stop now?" but by that time his other hand had slid between her thighs again, and she spread them, willingly, wantonly as his fingers found the mark and caressed her in slow strokes that matched the rhythm of her pain.
"No. Please," she whispered, too full of the blinding sensations to question the depravity of the act she was involving herself in. The sickening excitement was building, gaining momentum and when he paused and asked her again, she couldn't help herself. She begged him, pleaded with him to go on, offering him her body, her mouth, anything he wanted, but don't stop.
The large hand crashed down, harder now as the other stroked her relentlessly. "What a bad girl you are. What a dirty little slut," he rasped, "You wanted to suck my cock. I knew it the first moment I saw you. You wanted to suck it, didn't you?"
"Yes, yes," she cried, her hands clutching his ankle as the fire raced through her. It was surging, pulsing, centring where the pain and pleasure gathered. Her legs trembled uncontrollably and she heard herself begging him, "Hurt me, hurt me," and then the waves peaked and she cried out as it ravaged her, exploding inside her mind as it spasmed around her body, making her shudder so much he had to grab her to stop her sliding off his legs.
Behind her eyes throbbed red, whether from over-excitement or hanging upside down she wasn't sure, but for a long time she lay still, feeling the hot sting of her flesh under his now gently caressing hand.
She'd expected pain, and she'd certainly felt that — still felt it, but her mother's dire warnings hadn't prepared her for the shock of that mindboggling thunderbolt of pleasure.
Lying across him, she savoured the memory of it still travelling in tiny firebursts through her veins. But only for a moment. With the chill of early evening came reality, and in the aftermath of pleasure, came wariness. Was the game over or did he want more?
"Pretty, pretty," he was crooning, his hand sliding away from the destruction he'd wreaked to dip down and caress her sensitised flesh again, causing another small shudder that ached more with pain than pleasure.
She was filled with the urge to gather her clothes and flee, to be alone to consider the implications of what had just happened to her, but she had to be sure she'd passed the test. "Can I go now?" she whispered. "It's late."
"Nearly," he said, the sly voice back, and despite his gentle hands she felt a tremor of apprehension.
"I've done what you asked," she said, wriggling a little to see if he'd let her go — not sure if her legs would support her if he did. "My mother really will come looking if I'm not home to do my chores."
It was entirely dark now, and only a faint light filtered through the dusty window from the streetlight outside. She wished she could see his face.
"Just one more thing." He pushed and she slid off to stand between his legs, her own shaking so badly he had to grasp her naked thighs to support her. Below her hoisted skirt, her genitals were visible to him and they seemed to interest him greatly. "Pretty little pink flower," he said softly, leaning forward to sniff her. The very tip of his nose brushed against her soft pubic hair and she felt the aftershock shudder through her body.
"I want you up here," he said, manipulating her towards the table and lifting her carefully to sit on it.
She cried out as her bruised buttocks touched the coarse grained timber, but he was insistent.
"Now lie back, little one," he said, crooning and stroking her thighs, reaching forward to brush and tweak her responsive nipples.
"You promised not to hurt me," she whispered as she obeyed.
"I know I did," he replied as he spread her legs and moved in to look down at her, one hand twining in her hair as the other fiddled at his pants. "But you begged me to hurt you. Don't you remember?"
And then she felt a stab of pure pain.
"It's only the bee, little one," he said deep in his throat as he slid the length of his penis inside her. She gasped, feeling as though it would push her stomach up into her throat. But with the pain was another, diffuse sensation that was harder to identify.
"It stings a bit…" he withdrew partially, groaning as he pushed his way back in, "…but every flower needs some pollen." And then he closed his eyes and began rocking his hips against her, setting up a pounding rhythm that he punctuated with soft grunts. One of his hands still clutched her hair, making it impossible for her to move, while the other groped at her breasts, kneading them until she felt the little darts of pleasure racing up into her brain. It was crazy — she hadn't wanted this, and yet when the pain had subsided into a sharp sting as he'd predicted, she could feel the incredible pressure of his penis inside her and the stiff fabric of his trouser fly rubbing against her with each thrust, right at the point he'd sensitised earlier with his fingers.
She felt the heat enveloping her again, her brain filling with static. It was so good, so good…
"You're so bad," he said as he let her hair go to clutch at her buttocks, lifting them to thrust into her more forcefully. "Such a slut. Such a whore. Such a naughty, naughty girl," he groaned, and in that last mammoth thrust Wendee felt the exquisite agony burst over her again, wrapping her in a warm, numbing cocoon, isolating her from his callousness as he dropped her thighs on to the table and backed away.
A moment later he said, "Well done, Wendee," in a near normal voice that carried only a trace of breathlessness. "You've passed your test with flying colours. This work most definitely deserves an A."
She closed her eyes, blocking the sickness from her mind. There'd be time enough to wallow in it later. Right now, she needed to get away.
"Let's hope we have an even better result next week, shall we?" he was saying, straightening up from the adjustment of his pants.
"Yes, Sir." Despite the disgust she felt, his words stirred something dark inside her, a longing she'd never experienced before. She tried not to think what he'd want of her the next time.
She struggled to sit up, then slid painfully off the table to grope around the floor for her clothes. Warm stickiness trickled down her legs and she wondered if there could be blood. She'd heard there was blood the first time.
"Hurry, Wendee," he said, handing her the panties. "We don't want your mother to suspect, do we?"
"No, Sir," she replied, fumbling with her clothes in the dark, hoping she wasn't staining them. "I'm ready now," she said a moment later, stepping aside as he opened the door and let her out.
"Very good then." He picked up her school case and handed it to her. "I'll see you Monday morning, Wendee."
" Yes, Sir…"
Dee opened her eyes, found her knuckles white on the steering wheel. Sickening excitement still gripped her but there was no time left to calm it. Billy was waiting.
Slipping out of the car, she negotiated the stairs unseen and arrived at his door exactly on time. The hallway was empty and the hood of her navy silk trench coat shadowed her face, but she was careful to knock quietly.
No response. She knocked louder, then after a minute, frowning, knocked again. Voices echoed up the stairwell and after frantically knocking a fourth time, she tried the doorknob. The door swung open at her hand and she ducked inside, shutting it behind her.
Then she looked around.