Stacy was slumped forward on the desk. Her head was cradled sideways in herarms, spilling blonde hair in waves out over the wooden desktop. Outside theclosed office door, the grade eight students she was supposed to be supervisingwere yelling and running about, her usually well-structured Recreation coursehaving dissolved into chaos in her absence.

She didn’t care. She was too tired to care. She hadn’t even changed into herusual gym outfit for the class, instead just stumbling around the gymnasium inher green tweed dress, barely getting the class started before retreating tothe office. She just didn’t care anymore.

Last night she had attended Ashley’s Christmas party and, in the course of theevening, had managed to have sex with four different guys: two blowjobs and twofucks. Actually, it had been five guys, but one of them had turned out not tobe a student at Greenwood, and Stacy no longer counted the non-students. Thatbrought her total up to twenty: twenty different guys, and twenty shiny "F"s onher imprisoned wrist. Only forty-five more to go. Only! Her pussy ached at thethought.

As was happening so often these days, Stacy found herself fighting back theurge to cry. How had she fallen into this trap? How had such a little thing ascheating on a math test led her into the kind of life she was now leading?Looking back, she could see how Gary - it must have been Gary; Neil wasn’tanywhere near smart or subtle enough to plan this sort of thing - had slowlyescalated the incidents of blackmail and humiliation until all her options haddisappeared. Even now, if it had just been the original session at Neil’s, shemight be tempted to rebel - perhaps even turn to the police - but Gary hadsince then taken it even further. Now, there were the pictures taken at thephotography studio and the awful video-tape of that night at BCN, where Sharonhad turned her into a whore! Sharon had shown the tape to her the day after thephoto session. How could anyone believe her story after seeing her enjoyingherself so much? She could barely believe it herself. What had happened to her?Sex was usually so degrading and painful; why had it felt so good? Still,whatever the reason, there was no way out; no one would believe her now.

So, she took the path of least resistance, and did what they wanted.

It had been three days since the session at the photography studio, and she wasunable to get it out of her mind. It was not just the fact that the pictureshad been taken. That was terrible enough, and she was thoroughly frightenedabout what would be done with the resulting photographs. Gary had told her thatthey were just for "personal use" (whatever that meant), but how could shetrust him? It was not just the fact that she could no longer refuse to have sexwith the guys she had already fucked; that was bad, but she thought she couldcontrol matters so that very few of them invited her out again. As long as itwas kept quiet, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. It was not even the sexwith Neil; he had fucked her a number of times already, and it was getting tobe almost routine.

What frightened her about the session in the studio was the way she hadresponded to the situation, and, later, to Neil. By the time he had pushed upher dress and forced her to impale herself upon his rigid cock, she had been soexcited that she had experienced an orgasm within seconds of penetration. Inthe fucking that followed, she had cum twice more, moaning and squirming likesome kind of slut-bitch on Neil’s cock.

As was the case with the session at BCN, she was not sure how she felt aboutthis. On one hand, she was being forced to do horribly degrading things and itwas as if her own body was betraying her by allowing her to respond sexually.What kind of girl - what kind of a slut - would enjoy the kind of obsceneactivity which had occurred at BCN? On the other hand, it looked very much likeshe had very little choice in the matter. She was trapped, and would have tofuck countless guys in the next few months. Given that this was going to happenanyway, wouldn’t it be better to get at least some enjoyment out of it? Ifnothing else, she could do without the constant pain of her pussy being rubbedraw as a result of her being dry at the wrong time.

What she needed was some way to control the excitement. Some way to allow herto do what she had to do with a minimum of pain, but which would allow her tocontrol herself so that her surrender would not be complete. Some way to…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She glanced at herwatch and saw that it was after 3:15; class was over. She patted down her greentweed dress and shook her blonde hair, unconsciously adjusting her appearance.That must be…

It was. The door swung open to reveal a grinning Tim, followed closely byDennis. Stacy groaned, but gestured for them to enter the office for theirweekly session.

There must be some better way to deal with this!

Ashley Peters stood, giggling, in a cluster of friends in a doorway near thewater fountain. The girls were pulling a nasty practical joke, and were waitingfor the victim to arrive. Even among this group, basically the most popular(ie. beautiful) girls at Greenwood, Ashley stood out as something special. Shewas taller than any of the other girls, but still well-rounded in all of theimportant places, particularly her breasts. Indeed, the only other girl atschool that was in her league was Stacy Richards, but while Stacy was small andperfectly proportioned, Ashley was big-boned and extremely well endowed,particularly for an eighteen year-old. Where Stacy had a finely chiselled faceand high cheek bones, Ashley’s face was wide and generous, with thick, poutylips and wide brown eyes. Where Stacy had shoulder length blonde hair, Ashleywas a brunette, with a thick, reddish-brown mane of hair that fell halfway downher back. In short, Stacy’s was a hard, athletic beauty, while Ashley wassofter and more luxurious: equally beautiful, but in an entirely differentmanner.

The two girls were, of course, rivals, but only in a relaxed, friendly way.There was simply no need for them to compete, for boys or otherwise. The onlyreal point of contention was the title of Homecoming Queen, and Ashley had -more or less - conceded it to Stacy the previous year. Stacy’s schoolactivities, from cheerleading to the track and swim team to supervising thegrade eight "Rec" class, made her almost certain to take the title instead ofAshley, whose list of school activities was somewhat shorter (or, in truth,non-existent). Life was too short, she figured. So, the two girls ruled overtheir little clique in a co-operative fashion, acknowledging the other’sattributes without conceding superiority.

Ashley noticed Stacy coming out of a doorway at the other end of the hall,followed by a couple of grade eight jerks. She looked a little dishevelled, butAshley put it down to the activity of the "Rec" class.

"Stacy," Ashley called after her, eager to have her share in the joke, butStacy didn’t seem to hear, and moved down the hall away from the group. The twoboys followed close behind. Ashley narrowed her eyes as she watched her friendturn a corner and disappear from view. Stacy had been acting a little strangelately. She wondered if…

"She’s coming!"

Stephanie, who had been watching around the corner, whispered the warning andstepped back, out of sight. Ashley dropped Stacy from her mind and joined thegroup as they watched expectantly.

They didn’t have long to wait. Karen Williamson walked, unsuspecting, aroundthe corner and up to her locker. The heavy, dark-haired girl didn’t noticeAshley’s group as they watched from the doorway. The trap was sprung! As shepulled the locker door open, hundreds of sheets of paper slid out and onto thefloor in front of, and around, the locker. Each sheet had been carefully tornfrom various Playboy and other,similar, magazines, depicting beautiful women insome stage of undress. Karen watched, stunned, as more and more paper fell outof her locker. Ashley and her group could contain themselves no longer, andfinally broke out into raucous laughter as more and more people in the hallwaystopped and stared. As well as putting the loose sheets in the locker, they hadpasted up a number of pictures on the door and walls of Karen’s locker. Thepeople in the hallway began to laugh as Karen turned red, and then began to crywith embarrassment.