Ebooka przeczytasz w aplikacjach Legimi na:
Odsłuch ebooka (TTS) dostępny w abonamencie „ebooki+audiobooki bez limitu” w aplikacji Legimi na:
Copyright © 2017
Table of Contents
"Nesta... Nesta... Nesta... " Nesta shifted, thrusting her small, pert, breasts against the sheet as another bizarre dream tormented her sleep.
"Closer," the metallic voice called. "Come closer. I want to feel your skin. I want to touch it. To kiss it. To taste it with my tongue."
She felt a man's hand touch her naked back and press. The hand moved up her side, causing her to tense as its fingers found the underside of her breast and squeezed.
Nesta fought to awaken herself but the hands seemed to hold her down, away from the security of consciousness. She tossed and turned and felt a mouth brush against her neck. Her skin prickled into thousands of tiny, hard balls as the lips slid down her back to the swell of her buttocks. She tried to scream but no sound came.
The lips touched her anus and she tightened, clenching her buttocks forcefully. The hands had moved to her nipples and rubbed the hardening nubs in eurhythmic circles. The mouth worked down between her legs. She could feel its hot breath washing against her vagina, blowing lightly across the lips as one blows against the end of an envelope to extract the contents.
Her arms felt leaden at her sides as she felt the lips part and a thick, rough organ wriggle in. She bit her lip and tried with all her might to wrestle free, but it was hopeless. The tongue licked up and down, wetting the slot and forcing itself deeper and deeper into her.
She could feel her liquids flowing, lubricating the path of the intruder. Her knees began to quiver and she felt the muscles of her thighs relaxing, allowing the tongue to feast freely. She lay silent, trying to open her eyes but unable to. The tongue worked around her vagina like an eggbeater, thrashing her clitoris and plunging itself deeper and deeper into her. She began to respond, throwing her hips helplessly toward the organ, driving it farther and farther into her excited slot.
The musky odor clung heavily around her nostrils, making her breath come unevenly. The hands on her breasts dug deeper and deeper into the round, firm mounds. She could taste a saltiness in her throat and feel the dry, cottonlike cloak that lined her mouth.
She rocked forward and twisted her hips. The mouth sucked and slurped at her, driving the tongue so deep she thought she would crash through the nightmare and explode. Her head felt as though it were rising far above her body. Her cunt snapped closed and trembled. Her breasts ached. Her mouth became drier and drier.
"Gooooddddd!!!!" she screamed as she felt the tremors of an orgasm ripping through her fragile body. She bit her tongue and wheezed as she shook violently on the bed. The juices seeped from between her legs as she thrashed and bucked. Then a deadly silence fell over her and she was once again afraid.
* * *
There were two more days of school and Nesta was glad. She dressed hurriedly and raced through the streets to school. She had a final biology review to give before the examination.
Clark Williams met her in the hall as she hustled to beat the morning class bell.
"Nesta? Nesta?" He ran after her and caught her by the arm. "Whoa. You look like you're heading for a fire. What's the rush?"
Brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, she glanced at the handsome History teacher who had haunted her at lunch periods all semester.
"Good morning, Clark. I'm a little late. Do you mind?"
"Yes, I mind," he said smiling broadly. "I wish you'd hurry and have dinner with me again sometime. Vacation is coming up and I haven't a plan in the world."
"Not now, Clark," she said brusquely, tugging away from him.
"What's the matter, Nesta? You look pale. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping well, that's all."
"You need a man around," Clark said wistfully.
"I need to get to class. I'm late," she said over the clanging bell. "Bye, Clark."
Clark leaned against a locker and watched her petite form whisking down the hall. Underneath her baggy blouse and loose-fitting skirt he knew she had a beautiful body. He had watched her stretch in the library to reach a book. He had seen her firm, pointed mounds unconsciously press themselves against the heavy material, forming delicious silhouettes to tease his imagination.
She had bent over once to pick up some dropped papers and he had seen her legs tapering up to her well-rounded, inviting buttocks.
Her face was pertly attractive. The small-boned structure of her jaw set off the thin, suppressed highlights of her sensual mouth. The way her nose twitched when she was nervous, the way her tongue licked out to swipe at her dry lips when she was letting her mind wander. The way she smoothed her dress when she stood, letting her hands slide seductively down over the slight swell of her rear, all signaled to Clark that if he could only break through her wall of resistance he would have one of the wildest experiences of his life.
He wasn't alone in his ambition. He had heard the other men talk about her and wonder what it would be like to pour a few drinks down her and watch her unwind.
He had tried once and got as far as putting a hand on her breast before she froze up and began crying. He'd tried to talk her out of the depressed, frightful mood, but she wouldn't listen, accusing him of being like all men; after the one thing that he, or any man, would never take from her unless he was her husband.
Clark felt like taking her then, throwing her to the floor and raping her. Morality from the past didn't work today, he shouted. But she hadn't listened to his angry argument. She had fled like a frightened mouse, as she had today, running from herself and what she could have in life if she let her hair and her morality down a few notches.
What Clark was unaware of, however, was that someone was already working on her. Someone was loosening her grip on chastity; someone was plotting her fall off the pedestal of purity.
* * *
The class rustled anxiously as Nesta opened her notebook and glanced down at the review syllabus. She quietly scanned the room to see who was present. The juniors looked at her as she met their stares and smiled.
"All right. Everyone is here so we can begin," she said picking up a piece of chalk and turning it slowly between her delicate fingers.
"Our review today embraces the reproductive system of homo sapiens."
She turned quickly to single out the boy who had snickered at the word embrace.
Nesta didn't have to guess who it was. She had had trouble from Mark Laughton all semester. His smutty remarks and risque jokes had taunted her for the past four months.
"Mr. Laughton. If you prefer, you can conduct your review in the principal's office. I'm not going to put up with any more of your outbursts in my class. Is that clear?"
The tall, blond boy smiled innocently. "Who me, teach? I didn't say anything." His ice-blue eyes challenged her.
"I'm warning you only once today," Nesta said firmly. "I put up with no nonsense in my class."
She turned back to the board and continued her lecture.
"The structure of the male reproductive system consists of... " Nesta robbed any emotion from her voice as she spoke. Her voice rang flatly throughout the room as she described the anatomy and function of each part of the system. Her chalk quickly sketched the organ on the blackboard as she continued to speak about each infinite detail.
She had given the lecture many times before, but each time it became more and more difficult for her not to imagine what the system might look like in real life. And today was the worse day of her life.
Sweat began to dribble from beneath her arms and her mouth became dry and sticky. The chalk in her hand seemed to come alive as she spoke about the sperm and how it traveled through the seminal tubes like a caterpillar.
She paused and looked at the chalk. No longer was it light and white. It became spongy and warm in her hand. She closed her eyes and leaned against the desk. Inside her head, a loud ringing noise began to grow.
"Miss Collins? Miss Collins? Are you all right?"
Nesta shook her head and turned to face the class. Gwen Long was half out of her seat, a look of worried concern on her face.
"Yes. Yes. I just felt faint for a moment," she said weakly. "Let's continue."
Bracing a hip on the edge of the desk, she hurried through the rest of the review. The ringing in her ears was gone but the memory of the warm, fleshlike chalk in her hand tormented her imagination.
"That's all for the review. Are there any questions?" she asked, easing herself into the seat.
A silence fell over the room as Mark Laughton raised his hand.
"Yes," Nesta sighed, breathing in deeply.
"Could you explain morning sickness to us, Miss Collins. You know, when a woman is pregnant. She gets dizzy or something?"
For a moment Nesta didn't realize what Mark was after. She was halfway through the explanation before Mark broke into a wide, sarcastic grin.
"Yes," he interrupted as she paused, her face white, her hands clenched into tight, white balls. "That's what I thought it was. Thank you, Miss Collins."
A snicker rose from the corner of the room and Nesta suddenly felt cold and embarrassed. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Mark Laughton.
"All right, class. That will be all. Mr. Laughton, would you see me after class?"
The students gathered their books and shuffled out, glancing over their shoulders as they went past Mark. When the room was empty, Nesta looked up from her papers at the muscular youth. "Yes, teacher?"
"I know what you meant, Mr. Laughton. And I warn you: If there is any disturbance on your part tomorrow during the examination I will fail you. Your grades haven't been very good, and you've served to disrupt the orderly progress of the class all semester. Do I make myself clear?"
He stood and stretched, looking at Nesta nonchalantly.
"You make yourself clear, Miss Collins."
Nesta bit her lip. "Why? Why do you have to be so rebellious. Why can't you do what the others do? Try and grow up. Be mature."
"Oh, I suppose I'm kinda like you, Miss Collins," he said with a surly tone. "Why aren't you married? Why don't you date men? You got a good looking body, a nice face. Are you rebelling?"
"That's none of your business," Nesta said, infuriated. "My private life has nothing to do with it. I'm a teacher and you're a student. Believe it or not, I'm interested in your welfare."
"Then how about some private lessons? At your apartment, maybe."
He walked up and leaned his elbows on the desk and stared at her.
Startled, Nesta leaned back.
"Afraid of me, Miss Collins?"
"Then, how about the lessons?"
"If... if I thought you were truly interested, I'd consider it. At your home, not mine. But you're not, and you can't fool me."
"Fool you," he laughed. "No, Miss Collins. You've been fooling yourself."
"What do you mean?" she asked defensively.
"Everybody knows about you. Miss Priss. Hiding everything you've got from view." He pointed at her breasts. "You're the phony, teacher. You're the one who's pulling the wool over everyone's' eyes. And you're not doing too good of a job, believe me."
"Get out. Get out of my class," Nesta shouted.
"All right. All right. Don't get jumpy, teacher. Don't let the truth hurt."
Swaggering, he left the room and Nesta alone.
* * *
Her apartment was cold and lifeless when Clark called to see if she was better. She talked briefly with him and corrected the last assignment she had given the class. After figuring out the final points of the semester, she slipped into the shower and let the warm water pelt the tiredness into her bones.
She didn't need a sleeping pill and went directly to sleep when her head settled into the pillow. It was a pleasant, dreamless sleep until the vibrations started.
They grew louder and louder, startling her to semi-consciousness. As she had the night before, she fought to drag herself all the way to consciousness. But the battle was fruitless. The vibrations seemed to hold her captive.
"You. You. You slut. You want him, don't you. You want the boy to stick his penis in you, to fuck you in the ass, in the mouth, in the cunt. Don't you. SLUT."
"No," Nesta whimpered. "No."
The distant voice repeated the accusation.
"Yes. You want him. You want his cock in your hand. Like that piece of chalk. You want him, don't you? Don't you? You want to watch his come spew out of his pecker! You want to lick the sticky head of his prick!"
"No," she cried. "No. I don't. I don't."
"He's coming to you. Watch him! Look at him!" She saw the blackboard come into view and the picture of the male and female reproductive organs loom up before her mind's eye.
The vibrations grew steadily louder as the picture began to waver. Slowly, Mark's youthful face with its sneering smile appeared and began to eat the picture of the chalk vagina on the board.
"You want him! You want him! You want him!"
"I can't. I can't." She cried and turned on her side, tears wetting the pillow.
"Liar. Liar. Slut. Liar."
She tossed again and felt a pressure on her chest. Arms held her and a mouth pressed down on hers. An eager tongue forced its way into her mouth and stroked deeply down into her throat.
"It's him. The boy. He's fucking you and you love it, Nesta! You love it!"
The hands were roaming over her breasts, exploring them with a rough, awkward, eagerness that sent chills through Nesta's body. She begged to awaken, to cast off the spell that seemed to possess her.
Her legs were jacked up and she felt a stiff pole poking at her vagina, jabbing at the wrong hole, slipping out, returning again. She tried to wrestle free but the arms that pinned her were strong.
"LET HIM! LET HIM DO IT TO YOU, YOU SLUT. THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE. UNDERNEATH YOU'RE JUST A SLUT." Louder and louder grew the vibrations. She felt like screaming at the top of her lungs, but the tongue was blocking her. Maybe she wasn't dreaming, she thought. Maybe someone had sneaked in and was raping her. Yes, that was it. It wasn't a dream.
She cried and gagged as she felt the pole slip into her and pump quickly. Her legs trembled as she tried to throw him off her. His hands released her arms and pulled her to him, mashing her breasts against his chest as he kissed her violently and thrust his pelvis against her with all his might.
Her strength seeped from her and she lay beneath him trying not to help, whimpering as he pumped mercilessly into her body. The vibrations had gone, disappearing as his tempo increased. Suddenly her body began to react, even though she fought the instinctive response.
She thought she heard a crowd laughing in the background as her legs began to open and close, squeezing the body wedged into the fork of her thighs. Her hands crept up and clutched the form's back, pulling him down against her burning, aching breasts.
Her hips flashed, twisting and churning against him as she felt the electrifying sparks of another orgasm nearing. She gasped and began sucking on his tongue, dragging it deep into her throat as she whacked harder and harder against him.
The vibrations returned. They resonated so loudly in her mind she thought her brain was going to implode. Then it was over, as quickly as it came. She lifted off the bed and shook. Her body tensed. Her head twisted; her hips arched.
A sweet, relaxing sensation swept her up and away from the nightmare and settled her back softly a few moments later.
Her eyes flicked open. A chill raced through her.
The room was black, frightening. She lay breathing heavily, wondering how long she had slept after the man raped her.
Nesta listened for the faintest sound that would tell her the intruder was still in the room. Nothing.
She reached up and flicked the light on. Stepping into her robe, she crept out to the front room and peered around the corner. He had gone.
The dial tone buzzed loudly into her ear as she dialed "0."
"Operator, give me the police."
* * *
"I'm sorry, Miss Collins, but if you said the door was bolted when we called... "
"The windows... he must have come through... " Police Lieutenant Larry Martin rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. The heavy muscles on his broad face tensed.
"I'm sorry, Miss Collins. But there's no sign of illegal entrance. Are you sure the door was bolted?"
"Positive," Nesta said, feeling faint. "I know what happened, for God's sakes, don't look at me like that."
"I'm sorry," Martin said, looking away and taking the slim pen in his beefy fingers. He scribbled some notes on the paper.
"Would you submit to a doctor's examination?" he asked calmly. "Just part of the procedure in a case like this."
"You don't believe me, do you?" Nesta said, standing and looking at the Sergeant across the room who fidgeted with a small notebook exactly like the Lieutenant's.
"We believe you, ma'am. But you've made a pretty strong accusation against this boy... Laughton." Martin looked down at his scribbling. "We'll have to be very sure that a crime was committed before we can issue a warrant. You said you only thought it was him, you weren't sure. You didn't see his face."
"But I know... I know... "
"Look, Miss Collins. Rather than drag you downtown to see the doctor, why don't I call him and have him come here with his nurse. He's on twenty-four-hour call. Okay with you?"
"But I know what happened," Nesta demanded.
"It has to be confirmed, by the doctor," Martin said authoritatively.
"All right," Nesta said. She sat wringing her hands and staring at the Sergeant, who glanced up at her occasionally and then quickly back to his paper.
The doctor and nurse arrived a half hour later and took Nesta into the bedroom. Five minutes later the doctor emerged, shaking his head.
"Sorry, Larry. She hasn't been penetrated, tonight or ever. No signs of bruises, anything. Offhand, I'd say she was having a nightmare. Wish fulfillment category."
"Did you tell her?"
"Yes. She took it pretty hard. I gave her a sedative."
"Don't need us here any more then," he said pushing his two-hundred pound frame from the couch. "Let's call it a night, Pete."
The Sergeant nodded and followed Lieutenant Martin out of the room.
"How old is she?" the doctor asked as they waited for elevator.
"Too bad," the doctor said shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Young attractive woman like that all pent-up inside."
"She's a high school teacher. Thought one of her students did it."
"I'm afraid I would suggest something very dramatic for therapy," the doctor said stepping into the elevator.
"But she wouldn't follow your prescription, I'd lay ten to one odds on that, Doc."
"Probably not," the doctor answered as the elevator doors slid shut.
The alarm shattered through Nesta's troubled sleep. She lurched up and clutched the covers against her chest. Rubbing her eyes with the back of her knuckles, she let the night's events filter into place.
It was all unreal to her, unexplainable. She was positive something had happened to her. Something by someone. But whom?
No. The doctor and police had both told her, each in their own way, that nothing had happened. Yet she knew something had. She knew someone had attacked her. She couldn't be going insane. She couldn't.
She dodged Clark in the hall and scurried into the classroom with the test. Everyone was present except Mark Laughton. She was about to mark him absent when the bell rang and he sauntered into the room, smiled knowingly at her and took his seat.
Nesta avoided looking at him throughout the period. Each time her eyes lifted, she saw him staring at her and smiling. The hair on her neck stiffened and she tried to sift through the events of the previous night for some rational explanation. But none was available. The more she thought about it, the more she thought that she had imagined it. That perhaps she was in need of a rest, someone to talk with, a psychiatrist. Or maybe just a long vacation. The thought of a psychiatrist bothered her.
"Five minutes," she said abruptly, glancing at the clock. The students rustled in their seats and put the finishing touches to their tests.
They left the room one-by-one, thanking her for her course and wishing her a pleasant summer. Mark Laughton was last.
"Doesn't look like you slept well last night, teach," he said tossing his test on her desk.
Nesta didn't look up.
"Go out and celebrate your last day of school?"
"That will be all, Mr. Laughton. You're excused."
"Brushing me off, teach?" He puffed out his chest and leaned down so his face was only inches from Nesta's. She felt his presence and shivered, partially from fear and partially from something that lingered in her memory.
"Please leave, before I call the Principal."
"All right. But remember. If you flunk me, I won't mind. Spending another year with you would be fun."
Nesta looked up as he left the room. She saw his thick, muscular thighs pressing against the tight Levi's. She saw his buttocks clenched and pumping as he moved toward the door and his arms bulging with vibrant muscles.
He turned before exiting and stared at her.
"If you ever want me for anything, anything at all, you just call me, Miss Collins. I know we can work something out."
He shook his head arrogantly and disappeared.
* * *
"Hey. You. Beautiful."
Clark Williams stuck his head through the opening of the door and smiled.
"Can I come in?"
Nesta smiled. She brushed back a loose strand of hair and waved him in.
"Hey, you look worse than yesterday, kid. What's the matter? Staying up grading papers all night long?"
"Yes," she lied, feeling a certain element of security with Clark. "Had a terrible evening."
"Well, it's all over for three months. Where or what are you going to do?"
Nesta leaned back in her chair and sighed. "I don't know. I know I'm going to get away. Far away and just relax."