"Good point," she laughed. "But your Dad and I got lucky. Well, back then-not in the end." She got a sad little look on her face. "Anyhow, I don’t think it’s a prerequisite. You know I haven’t been completely celibate since your dad died." I nodded. "It’s never gonna be the same. But it’s still good."
"Yeah," I said. "But I still think differently about my first time."
"You’re a born romantic," she laughed. "How did it go outside of that?"
"OK, I guess. I expected more teasing and stuff, seeing as I’m known as the school wimp and all. I think Missy deflected a lot of that. So, I suppose that’s one good thing about having her around."
"She got it pretty good?"
"Yeah," I said. "Both barrels. Now she knows how Cassie felt."
"Hmmm," she said. But I could tell she was vaguely disappointed in me. Sorry. I loved my Mom, but she didn’t have to stand there and see Cassie break down crying in the halls.
We ate, I went up and finished homework, then I went to bed.
PART TWO TUESDAY
I drove to school Tuesday morning, after a lovely lecture from my Dad about "responsibility" and "keeping a good image for the family" and "representing the family well". So, Dad, how was the fuck with your secretary last night?
Hypocrite.
So, I drove to school. After, believe me, contemplating keeping on driving and not stopping until I got to New York or something. Of course, I couldn’t go to New York. I have no education and no skills and would probably have to resort to selling my body. Of course, who’d want my body in the first place? And I didn’t want to sell it, either, considering I’ve said that the thought of having sex doesn’t thrill me.
So I went to school. Of course, nobody wanted to see my body there either. They didn’t have any choice though-considering neither did I.
I watched as Dave got undressed at the entrance. I wasn’t going to go up there with him. I have to admit, I was jealous-he did have support, even though he had a partner he didn’t want anything to do with. Jared and the rest of that crowd, were cheering and rooting him on. He did OK. He’s not being a complete wimp about this.
Of course, he’s not getting abuse, either. They’re reserving all that for me. He’s just the opening act, I’m the headliner. I went up there after he went in, followed by his friends. Facing the jackals all by myself.
I suppose helping me undress is a "reasonable request". But is ripping my fucking shirt right off? Or snapping my bra, hard, into my back before you take it off, is that a reasonable request? Or making all the cow noises when you take my pants off?
I’m pretty sure somebody roughly shoving their fingers in my (dry) crotch isn’t, either. Of course, there was no "request" there. He just did it. Hard. And not in, either, right on my labia. It was like getting poked in the chest, only far worse.
What could I do? I didn’t even know who was doing it half the time. There were so many of them. So I couldn’t report it. And who’d listen to me, anyway? Mr. Tilling? That’s a laugh.
It got progressively worse throughout the morning. But it was worst walking from art class to lunch. People must have seen what other people were getting away with, and that emboldened them. Because my tits were grabbed, and I mean hard, walking to lunch. Someone damn near twisted my right nipple off. I had bruises. I’m not exaggerating. My tits were black and blue by the time I got to lunch, and that nipple was swollen and throbbing. Somehow I managed to get into the lunch line and get my lunch. Somehow I managed to sit down. Somehow I managed not to collapse, from pain and humiliation, right in the middle of the lunchroom.
OK, dammit, I did a bad thing. What I did to Cassie was a bad thing. It was rotten, it wasn’t nice. But was it this bad? Did she have bruises? Did everyone treat her like their own personal punching bag? Did I deserve this?
I wanted to ask that question. I wanted to ask it so badly. But there was nobody listening.
CHAPTER SIX DAVEYou know what? I was adjusting. Getting undressed in front of the class at the entrance wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would. Of course, Missy wasn’t around, so the crowd wasn’t out for blood. And Jared and his pals were there.
The morning went fine. But I couldn’t help but notice that Missy really looked bad in second period. Enough. Why did I care.
I got grabbed in gym, but not enough to get off-so, in the next class, I surprised myself by requesting relief. A girl named Cyndi Thomson did me. She was cute and enthusiastic. I still couldn’t talk to her, outside of a muttered "Thank you" when she was done-but I was able to relax enough for her to jerk me off.
Then, after class, I went to lunch. That’s when I saw it. Missy looked bad.
Her breasts were all bruised. One of her nipples was swollen and didn’t look good at all. She looked like it was an effort to walk. She slumped to a corner table like she’d rather curl up in a ball and die.
Dammit.
Jared saw it, too. "Damn. Did you see Missy?" he asked me. "Somebody did a number on her tits."
"I saw," I replied. "Look, I know she was put in the program to be humiliated the way Cassie was. Somehow, physical bruises is not what I think they had in mind."
"I think you’re right," Jared said.
"Well, you know. She’s my partner. I think I have to go sit with her."
"Really?" Jared asked.
"I wanted her to go through what Cassie went through. This isn’t what Cassie went through."
"Good luck. If Cass or anyone says anything, I’ll tell ‘em you were threatened by Tilling."
"Thanks, Jared," I said, and walked over to where Missy was sitting. "Hi," I said.
She looked up, startled. Then she attempted to summon some of her usual bitchiness. It was pathetic, but she got an A for effort. "What do you want?" she managed to snarl out with a modicum of venom.
"Just wanted to see how you were doing," I said.
"Oh, so all of a sudden you want to be my ‘buddy’?" she snapped. The venom was coming easier now. "It’s me, remember? Missy? The girl who deserves everything she gets? Go away. Leave me alone."
"I wanted you to go through what Cassie did," I said. "I never saw Cassie looking like her tits had been through a mangler." I don’t know if she realized how obvious it was, but she crumpled when I said that. She slumped like a balloon that had all the air let out.
"Look," she said. "I’m OK. Really. Some guys just got a little rough."
"That’s more than a little rough," I said.
"Look," she snapped, "I don’t need your pity."
"I didn’t come over here to give you any."
"Then what did you come over here to give me?" she asked.
"Just a little company. Someone to talk to, if you needed it."
"I don’t want to talk." She actually let out a little smile. "I suppose I’ll take the company, though."
"Good," I said, reaching for my lunch. We ate in silence for a bit. I think we were both looking at the other warily.
"How’s your week going so far?" she asked after a bit.
"All right. Better than I expected. I thought I’d get more abuse for being the class wimp."
"Well, everyone knows you’re the class wimp," she snorted. "Taking off your clothes didn’t change that." She looked at me. "Might’ve even helped the situation a bit," she smirked.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"You’re not bad," she smirked again. "Especially compared to a beached whale like myself. You’re getting the benefits this week. You’re partnered with a pile of blubber that everyone hates to begin with. You’re golden by comparison."
"You’re not fat."
"You need eyeglasses. I need to lose 40 pounds."