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From: spoonbender@hotmail.com (Theodore Spoonbender)
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Subject: {ASSM} ** New Spoonbender Story - Lucinda part 2 (nc, humil, blackmail)
Date: Sun, 24 Feb 2002 00:10:08 -0500
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Lucinda's little Adventure Pt II - a schoolgirl rape story (nc,
MMMM/f)

************************************************
(c)2001 Spoonbender.  A short story of an adult nature.  Not to be
read by minors.  If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are
underage then don't read.  Contains graphical scenes of a non
consensual sexual nature, which some people might find disturbing.
Can be freely distributed as long as it is not changed, including this
heading.  If it is to be archived then please email me first for
permission and I must have access to that archive.  Note that the
characterizations are mine.  I do not like people stealing them for
inclusion in their own efforts. Please email me with comments,
constructive criticism, fantasies you want put into words etc.  Don't
flame me if you don't like the content or you don't like my style.
Spoonbender@hotmail.com

This story was written using English idioms but American spelling. 

This is part 2 of the story, I suggest you read part 1 first because
if you don't then this probably won't make sense. I was going to give
you a synopsis of part 1 but I don't think I could do it justice in
one paragraph, but I can say this and that is that it contains a
number of men having their wicked non consensual way with an innocent
schoolgirl, whose name happens, by amazing coincidence, to be Lucinda.

(***************** (c) 2001 Spoonbender@hotmail.com ****************)

Lucinda was the first into the shower the next morning. It was a
communal shower and she didn't want the other girls to see the
translucent trails that smeared the inside of her thighs. She
tentatively probed at her vagina hoping to wash their stuff out of her
but the jets were fixed high up on the wall and so despite her
gymnastics she couldn't direct a jet of water into her to help.

Anyway it hurt every time she pushed a finger inside, as she was still
sore.

Her morning was spent lost in a dream, or rather a nightmare. She was
convinced she was pregnant but by whom? Perversely she hoped it was
the last boy who did it to her, who was good looking in a dark
Italianate way. She'd overheard one of the girls telling the others
that the first one was always free, in other words you don't get
pregnant with your first lover. She didn't know if that was true or
not, but if it was then the old caretaker was probably the father.

Lunchtime found her in the school library where she was frantically
looking up as much as she could find on the subject of human
reproduction. Luckily the librarian had stepped out for a few minutes
and one of her friends was on duty, so there were no questions asked
as to her choice of reading material. But it didn't stop her friend
smirking at her. The illustration of a boy's erect penis was the most
dog-eared page in the whole library.

She took a desk at the back and started frantically scouring the
pages, desperately trying to ascertain the probable father of the baby
she was convinced she was going to have. Eventually she read that the
first guy's sperm split into two and that one lot went off to find the
egg and the others stayed behind to fight a rearguard action to stop
any other guy's sperm from reaching the egg. There was a footnote by
an eminent psychologist that surmised that this was the reason the
leader always went first whenever a woman was inclined to partake in
acts of sexual intercourse with a number of sequential male partners..
There was nothing about the first one being free.

She leaned back, her eyes bulging with unshod tears. So it was the
first guy. She tried to recall whether he was good looking or not. Was
he intelligent, did he have any genetic or mental problems?

She buried her head in her hands when she realized that she knew
precisely nothing abut the father of her child. There wasn't even any
certainty that he was the father, it could even have been the second
boy because she read that even the secretions, never mind the
ejaculate, from his penis was enough to get a girl pregnant.

She sat and sobbed out her misery at her lonely desk tucked away in
the back of the library.

And that's where Hawkins found her.

She was aware of someone sliding a chair out and sitting down opposite
her.

"This is for you," he said sliding an envelope towards her.

"What is it," she sniveled.

"Open it and find out," he suggested.

She tore pen the packet to find a pill inside, "What's this?" She
asked as she fished it out and held it up.

"It's called a morning after pill."

"Morning after? You mean it's a contraceptive?"

"Yes you take it the morning after and it makes sure you don't get
pregnant even if you've done it the night before. I assume you weren't
using any contraceptives?"

She shook her head.

He tutted and said, "silly girl."

"Where did you get it from?"

"Never you mind." He'd rifled through the school medicine cabinet and
found a whole box of them. There must have been at least 200 sachets
inside, so he palmed a few. Last night's little episode had left him
feeling about 10 years younger this morning and he wanted to repeat
the experience. But he couldn't risk getting her pregnant. "Anyway
don't you say thank you?"

Her thanks were profuse and heartfelt for the solution to her dilemma.

"And now you can do something for me," he said.

"What? Not that again?"

He shook his head. "No, its something more fundamental than that. I
want you to wash my clothes and clean my house every day after
school."

"What but I never..."

"Precisely, it was something else that you never thought you'd end up
doing wasn't it?"

"But I have chores to do after school."

"Yes and today you are being reassigned from supervising the junior
netball team to working at the pig farm." The school had a small farm
in its grounds that both helped teach animal husbandry and provided
fresh meat for the kitchen. St. Catherine girls were not squeamish
about shooting an animal for the table or simply because it was a
bloody nuisance.

"But why the pigs?"

"Because it's close to my house so you can do both things during your
chore time."

"Oh this is horrible," she moaned.

"I've already told the headmistress that you wanted a change and that
you'd approached me to help with the animals. She thought it was
because you are going to University next year to study equines,
whatever they are?"

"Horses."

"So what's the difference? They both eat, sleep, shit and fornicate."

"You wouldn't understand."

He shrugged, "So you'll be seeing the headmistress after school and
will be reassigned this evening. So I expect you at my place at 4:30
and don't forget to bring your old working clothes, its messy work."

She wondered which he meant, cleaning his house or mucking out the
pigsties. Probably both.

Then a thought occurred to her. "What did you mean it was something
else I didn't expect to have to do, what was the first thing?"

He leaned forward so his face was close to hers and whispered, "having
to fuck one of the servants." He laughed and stood upright; "I'll see
you at 4:30 and don't be late you've got a lot to do." He then
strolled off while she dashed to get a glass of water, the precious
pill clutched tightly in her fist.

(***************** (c) 2001 Spoonbender@hotmail.com ****************)

She was dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a gingham shirt and
clutching a pair of Wellington boots when she turned up that evening.
It was unseasonable warm and amazingly the weather forecast didn't
threaten rain for the next couple of days, so she didn't have to wear
waterproofs. Her choice of dress coupled with her ponytail gave her a
fresh inviting look, radiating youthful vigor and innocence, not even
aware that she was showing her body off to perfection.

He invited her straight in and showed her where the cleaning stuff was
kept. He then got her down to work. She was perspiring freely by the
time he called a halt to her exertions. She'd barely made a start on
the main room never mind the kitchen. He informed her that it was fine
as she could carry on tomorrow but now the pigs needed feeding.

It was hot, dirty and smelly work and she undid a couple of buttons on
the shirt to let the air to her body. An hour later she had pulled the
shirt out of her jeans and had tied it across her midriff baring her
belly. She had a streak of something unmentionable across her
forehead, which she'd got by pushing stray hair out of her eyes. She
was sweaty, hot and miserable.

And that's how they found her.

"Well, well, well," smirked the leader, "look who it isn't."

"Go away and leave me alone," she said backing up against the wall and
pointing the pitchfork at him.

"Now that isn't a very nice way to greet your lover."

"I'm not your lover, so go away."

"Not your lover," he turned to the boys with mock incredulity, "she
reckons I'm not her lover. I'm shocked. Did you or did you not witness
me fucking the ass off her?"

They nodded grinning their heads off.

He turned back to her, "And it was your first time wasn't it?"

She nodded briefly; there was no point in denying it.

"And don't girls usually give up their cherry to their lover?"

She just looked at him.

He took her silence as an affirmative, "in that case I'm your lover."

"You're not," she said her voice trembling, "you raped me, you all
did."

"Your word against ours and," he waved the photograph at her, "and who
do you think they'll believe when they see this?"

"That's evidence."

"Evidence that you did fuck us and that you are a slut who lets us cum
all over your face. Anyway if it was rape why haven't you reported it
already?"

"Because I.."

"Because you have a stupid school rule that says if you are caught
fucking then you'd be thrown out and you know you was giving us the
come on. You wanted it but that could get you chucked out from here
for doing it, so you cried rape. But the look on your face in this
picture says otherwise, that ain't a look of pain," he peered at the
picture then back at her, "that looks more like pleasure to me. So
your rape story doesn't look so hot now does it? Not when you enjoyed
every minute of it."

"I didn't, it was horrible and you hurt me," she said trying to hold
back a sob.

"Oh yeah it didn't look like that to me, they weren't moans of pain
you were making. You were having fun," he looked around at his
friends, "what do you think boys?"

"Yeah the bitch was getting off on it."

"She was so wet I nearly had to tie my ankles to the bench to stop
from disappearing inside her."

"There you are," said the leader spreading his hands and shrugging,
"if you have pleasure then it ain't rape. Sorry."

He sounded so plausible she almost found herself agreeing to what he
was saying. Was it still rape if she'd had pleasure from it? She
didn't know the law that well especially regarding sexual crimes.
Those sorts of things were definitely not on the curriculum at St.
Catherine's.

He saw the pitchfork waver, "Look I won't report it if you leave me
alone," she said.

"Hmm I'm not sure about that," he said scratching his chin
thoughtfully, "you see I think that you want to do it again with us."

"What?" she exclaimed, "you must be mad if you think that."

"In fact you'll even beg us to do it to you."

"Never," she said shaking her head defiantly.

"Oh I think you will," said the leader waving the picture nonchalantly
in front of his face like a small fan. "You see if you agree to fuck
us then you get this picture, it's a Polaroid so there aren't any
negatives. If you don't," he looked rueful, "then we'll post it on the
internet so millions of perverts throughout the world will masturbate
over you. An interesting choice eh?"

She looked at him for a long minute a mixture of loathing, hope and
humiliated submission in her eyes.

"So what's it to be?"

"You'll give the photograph?"

"Yes."

"And there are no copies?"

He shook his head, "nope."

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply before replying, "in that case
I'll do it."

"Do what?"

"You know, 'it'."

"Nope," he shrugged and turned to his boys and said, "do you know
what's she's talking about?"

They shook their heads.

He turned back to her, "sorry you'll have to be more explicit."

She sighed in exasperation, "alright sex, have sex."

"Oh," he said in mock realization, "sex? You mean fucking. You want us
to fuck you? Is that what you are trying to say?"

"Yes."

"So say it."

She gulped, "I'm willing to have sex with you."

"These poor dumb working class boys, "he jerked his thumb at his
friends, "don't understand what you mean, so say it properly so
they'll know what you are talking about."

"I'm willing to fuck you."

"No, no, you've still got it wrong. Its pretty simple, we fuck you,
you get fucked. Got that? Come on try again and louder this time."

"I'm willing to let you fuck me," she said, louder than she expected.

"Nice offer," he said looking at his fingernails, "but I'm not really
interested."

She looked at him, what was he doing? "But I thought you..?"

"Wanted to fuck you? Well I did but I'm not in the mood now, so I'll
just go and post this on the web," he turned and clapped his friends
on their shoulders, "come on lads lets go home, is that scanner still
hooked up to the computer?"

"Wait!" she shouted, "please don't go."

He turned, "why?"

"Because, look please don't put that picture on the internet. I'll do
whatever you want, you can fuck me," she took a deep breath, "you can
all fuck me."

"As I said I'm not in the mood."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me," she'd dropped the pitchfork so its tines were poking
the straw and had lowered her eyes to stare at the floor.

"There," he said, "I told you you'd beg us to fuck you." The other
boys laughed and jeered as he continued, "but we really aren't in the
mood, so you'll have to do something to get us in the mood won't you?
If you still want us to 'fuck' you of course." She winced slightly as
he put the accent on the 'fuck', it seemed an apt almost animal word
that described perfectly the acts they had put her through on the
previous day. That brutal pounding wasn't love making, or even sex as
she had imagined it, but it was a fucking. A raping. And now she'd
just begged them all to do it again. 

(***************** (c) 2001 Spoonbender@hotmail.com ****************)

And there I'll leave it for a while. Unless of course you are willing
to regale me with emails attesting to your willingness to see it
continued. Accompanied no doubt by JPGs showing me what she looks like
(I want to know if my descriptions are any good, Gangdannit!). Then I
might just, possibly, let you know what happens next.

Of course ladies I'd love to hear from you. I can promise you hours of
world class entertainment, all free. Mailing Spoonbender@hotmail.com
gets you a whole cornucopia of erotic literary experiences.

I await your call oh mighty word devourers, unchain me from my garret
of public indifference and set me free to write again, allow my words
to wing their way around the world, bringing sticky chairs and even
stickier fingers ("Honey why is this mouse all jammed up?") in their
wake. And all it takes is one kind missive from a connoisseur of fine
erotic literature; such as you. And it doesn't have to be long, it
could be a 'dismissive missive' as it were. But let that feeling of
well being, that you feel after using my prose for your own
gratificational purposes, to flow in honeyed waves into the keyboard
and send it wafting gently into my inbox on wings of warm prose.

And the shrinks reckon I'll be better soon. 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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