Poor poor BB... Just trying to avoid her horrible fate.
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Part 3: Blackmail fun
Becky, aka BB, was so stunned and shocked that the day had been utterly lost to her. Her mind worrying about those photos that were taken – that they could be circulated at anytime but at Mr. B’s word, they would not be until he had reason to. This is from the man whom had taking advantage of her repeatedly during the last few days. She quickly left the boys room, dashing out the common room and out into the almost awoken students and faculty. All that mattered was her safety but throughout the day, only about three classes in, her mind endlessly tortured herself about those photos. She was violated in the most cruelest of fashions and she couldn't just blink or let it go. How she managed to float through the day was a mystery. The Mexican, while shy and enclosed, still had friends, and the odd fan or two depending on what day of the week it was. Today was one of those days though, after all, she had a big swimming tournament today… She hadn’t realized that just yet though.
She was distracted so much that after talking with someone, she couldn’t remember who, that she’d went into the girls bathroom completely unaware that the very same group of boys whom had done such acts… so many filthy and unthinkable things to her were stalking her, following her around, moving through the crowds during breaks from class. They shared classes in the same vicinity of each other so that the hunt was rather easy. Of course the guys didn’t intend to do it, it just so happened that way. They had been deep in thought since the Mexican vixen left my dorm room.
Becky looked into the mirror of the bathroom, and the bell had rung, how long had she been in there? She looked at her face, into her watering large black eyes, tears begging to be free. Even if the boys left her alone – and the photos disappeared… my god, what did they do to her. Standing in front of a full length mirror, her hands went into her blue blazer, flipping it open to reveal the white blouse she wore underneath. Cautiously, her eyes went to the door – even though it didn’t matter given the mirror was located on its own little secluded stall, more so a room than anything but still… caution was approaching, she was alone – she hadn’t been alone all day, she didn’t realize it but she didn’t want to be alone but she was now.
No sound came and she slipped her fingers, still injured from the clothing pins being brutally squeezed off them, inside her blazer to the individually, a fully buttoned up blouse, undoing the buttons slowly. She hadn’t looked at her body at all and she was hurting on the occasion through the day, especially after her cold showers numbness dissipated. Exposing her bra covered breasts, flesh urging to be set free, her eyes trailed along her wounded orbs before stretching her hands behind her and unlatching her bra, making it slip off but not all the way to the ground, after all her azure blazer and half of her buttoned up blouse remained on. Her nipples were a menagerie of different colors, ranging from red to black and blue. Her breasts also had a pattern of how the clips were placed them.
She softly rubbed upon her abused breasts with her fingers so chilled and motherly. She felt ugly on the inside and out. She smiled for those pictures. Oh God. Moving the tie that lingered invbetween her breast canyons, she gave a final look to the devastation they wrought upon her precious body. Turning around, her long wool skirt, stretching to her ankles, was lifted upward to her mouth so that her teeth could snatch the lowest portion of the fabric, holding the grey material upward so her white panties, a stark contrasting color compared to her tan flesh was made to be revealed. Hiking the whiteness up her ass cheeks, she looked at the etched into her flesh wallop marks of the pool stick… the hand prints also were easy to see.
Again, a soft hand caressed her plump fleshy cheek – her touch stung, making her quiver. She’d never really looked at herself in the mirror like this, it made her feel… lewd. She couldn’t help herself.
Her hand brushed caressingly along one of the more prominent wounds along her maimed rear end.
Just then the door of the bathroom opened and several people came in. Hurriedly, she placed her clothing on but remained silent, she hadn't finished dressing, but instead dropped her skirt and zipped her blazer, blouse remaining open and tits unbraced. Quietly, she listened as the door to her stall was locked, her pulse raced… her body responded instantly, having been terrified just the night prior and all morning long. They kicked in stall after stall, each door slamming.
“BB, we know your in here and don’t think about screaming. Do you want everyone to know how plump both your lips are?” Mr. B threatened. She hated that Russian prick, but each time she thought about him, she thought about the horrible pain he’d caused her and in turn she grew fearful, mind numbingly so. She remained silent, but still about to panic as she tried to lock the door to do anything to hold it closed, but as soon as she sprung into action the door opened and there they were. All five of the guys. They pounced on her like wolverines.
“Look at that, whore already got her blouse open for us.” Dave said, and Alex choosing to stay back and snap photos of the incident.
“Remember, she has class so don’t… well you know.” Mr. B laughed, enjoying the scene of Becky as she broke down in tears, wrestling with the guys, whispering, begging, pleading until her pleas reached into horrified wails, saying something to the effect of no, not again and You promised you’d… yadayadaya.
Each kid enjoyed fondling her anew, even if she had most of her clothing on but their greedy groping hands found themselves inside her panties in little to no time.
“Do you want someone to see this, see how you are letting us do this to you?” Mr. B said in a mocking voice, his eyes looking casually over to the camera that Alex held.
“Im not letting you do anything” She bitterly spoke through sobs as her defaced body was once again defaced a thousand times over, after all, the wounds were on the mend meaning they hurt a lot more when mincingly groped. Becky was huddled in the corner and the boys had exceptional leverage both physically and picture form over her.
Her wool skirt sauntered by her knees as she was forced to look into the mirror, her ankle white socks clinging her lean, lithe legs. Under Mr.B’s directions, the boys spread her wide in front of the camera, revealing her pussy in all its wounded glory to the horrified Becky.
Becky had not seen her fruit yet, nor did she want to, but as she was forced to look, she realized how thick and pouty her once virgin pussy lips were, so swollen that no pink from the inside of her pussy could be seen, even with her legs spread, her fat ass resting upon the bathroom floor. The room was an extension of the bathroom, but part of the bathroom all the same. The bitter cold of the floor drove at her as much as the endless grouping and groping hands. Mr. B just watched and smiled, trying to add an artistic touch to the photos, saying how much money it would bring him if he ever chose to sell them and reminded her all to frequently, even while she was at her worst and being manhandled, that he could sell the photos if he wanted to. Encouraging for much more extreme pictures, Alex came up closer, between the little tan fleshed teenager's legs and used fingers to slowly unclasp the swollen lips to reveal her pink insides. The guys took it from there by snagging some of each pouty lip and individually separating, stretching, and at more violent times, pulling and twisting. Becky had no recourse, trying to keep herself silent as yet again she was abused, but this time she didn’t have the dignity of blindness, instead, she saw each and every action, including Mr. B snatching the camera and turning it around to page through the pictures in front of Becky so she could see just how gorgeous and sweet looking she was while being molested. The photos continued until they got to the clothed versions, ones where she was in a swimsuit, collecting a trophy for being the best swimmer. How it all felt so distant, long and forgotten. She used to be a pure soul once.
Wearing a bathing suit always caused her to be reluctant to swim and heavily shy but after having won so many, she didn’t let it affect her performance. It still made her feel almost naked though she was not entirely so.
Chris snickered as he looped a finger in between the pussy lips, they spread for him gratefully, allowing him to enter and exit the crevice of the lips, allowing them to coat and cover the entirety of it with her swollen abused fleshy orb but he didn’t enter inside her, instead, the liquid he was looking for was spilling out of her like a small little fountain. They teased her – Becky was a role model and here her cunnie was being used and video tapped for the boys future amusement and her lewd, dirty, sinful crotch was responding to the terror with its own little form of coping, that being drizzling out her creamy milk. The finger that slipped along and through her pouty lips caused a stirring sensation through her feeble, trembling body as pain echoed in her mind, noisy sloshes could be heard perfectly as they continued to mistreat her innocent toned body.
Alex handed the camera off to Mr. B who graciously accepted the responsibility and begun taking close up shots of her face, enjoying the horror and discomfort etched into the soft features. She looked much more mature yet still innocent with such a heated, bothered face. Twisting and contorting, she found her shoes individually slip off – her dainty feet still protectively in their white pure socks but that didn’t stop Mr. B from enjoying enhancing the dull thudding pain that her feet suffered each time she took a step, after all, she’d been injured rather brutally there, including but not limited to having that pool stick slam against the bottom of her naked foot just hours prior.
Dave commented on how much he enjoyed the challenge when he fully removed the bra, shoving it into his own backpack, preforming such an action in front of Becky’s eyes, making sure she was, putting it on display even, flaunting and taunting. Finally, however, as quickly as they were there, the bell rang again… 40 minutes was up and a new class session was happening. The ladies room, however, remained locked and several people tried to get in which prompted the gang to retreat. Mr. B, however, stayed outside of the bathroom, waiting for Becky to leave --- he knew all to well that she would either remain in the bathroom, leaving her all alone for him, or leave, in which case he would spring a little surprise of his own on her. She noticed in all the commotion, her shoes were gone, however what remained was not hers. It was a high heel like shoe which stretched in a very vertical way upward, causing the heel of her foot to rise to a 70 degree angle. It looked as uncomfortable as it felt but more to the point however, there felt like… she checked after attempting to put the footwear on once, yes, like wooden balls and bumps inside the shoe itself – as if it weren’t uncomfortable enough. Including how injured she was prior, and having her wounds aggressively by Mr.Bs toe and feet antics, each step was a new little hell. She stood up, trying to compose herself. She’d obviously been sobbing, and Mr. B, whom Becky was unaware of, heard her as she broke down in front of the mirror, sobbing loudly at first. Walking with this new little pair of shoes was challenging, causing her to stumble… even at her lowest point, she couldn’t even walk correctly anymore.
Becky, without bra on, her white shirt clinging to her chest so much so that her full bronze breasts were almost completely left on display without much imagination – it was her nipples that were much more obvious, even if they weren’t hard and swollen from cold and abuse, the swelling had intensified, and they were no longer like grapes nor cherries but little plums, their color was much more fitting for plums as well.
Satisfied, Becky stepped from the bathroom and saw Mr. B in front of her, but she didn’t panic. In fact, she had gotten dressed and composed herself rather gracefully even though in a rush; wonder how well she was at hiding how demoralized she already felt. So worthless, pathetic, and like Mr. B had told her time and time again, this was her fault, her choice… she shouldn’t have allowed them to do this to her. She was to blame, not them, and definitely not him.
A lot of emotions crossed her mind before her gaze fell to the floor, rather uncomfortably as several people rushed past, attempting to get to class before the last bell rang. She saw them glance her way, just once, but her mind was swirling, did they know, they couldn’t know, but that look in there eyes… they had to know. They knew, oh God. So many embarrassing emotions collapsed upon her mind that she had forgotten the little show-down her and Mr. B had. Mr. B obviously noticed and enjoyed her…squirrel-iness. She was perpetually in fear and in doing so, she would be her greatest tormentor. Her imagination was running on overdrive and surely there were some, a few humiliations that they’d not done to her that she was well aware of and thankful that they hadn’t been done to her.
Mr. B informed Becky that they had class together and that they were also rather late. Best to show up in a pair, he reasoned with her. Not like she had a choice. It seemed like a truce but she knew much better now – there was no truce between them and they both knew it. But like everything else today, she needed to take it step by step carefully and causiously, after all, if her mind thought about the horrifying actions that had literally just happened… well she wouldn’t have strength enough to continue living this lie where she was all smiles and nice and kind, when in reality her soul had seen the true evil wickedness of what hormonal, teenage boys do when they are horny.
They both arrived in class – she was not going to be punished but Mr. B, the Russian whom while maintained a high GPA, earning highest marks in all, usually did get punished for being late quite often, even if he was exceptionally smart and book savvy, his attitude and general demeanor was allusive and blissful. A troublemaker he was called, but Mr. B had friends and a father in high high places so even if he was punished, he wasn’t really punished.
Mr. B was about to protest, pointing out that Becky hadn’t gotten any treatment of the sort but Becky immediately protested on her own accord stating that they were studying together. Mr. B never knew why she did such but perhaps it was fear of reprisal that navigated her actions. The class went by swimmingly, and if by swimmingly it meant that it was dreadful. No matter how many times she looked over at Mr. B all she could see was him down by her crotch, rubbing her poor innocent and abused clit so viciously and repeatedly that the swollen knob felt like it had become raw. That blue chalk was now gone, mind you, but the image of it was all so very real to her. She kept her head low, when ordinarily she’d be perked up and engaged in whatever the class had to offer.
What was worse was the fact that their little incursion occurred the day she had a huge meet and an even bigger test. If she failed the test today, she might not be able to remain on the swimming team next month. But at the moment, all those thoughts seemed so insignificant, where once she thought of her future being all good and nice and kind, filled with wonder and enjoyment,, she faced it now, thought of it with just the right about of dread and loathing. Oh god, when were they going to leave her alone. She spotted a few students snickering with Mr. B out of the corner of her eye and she immediately thought that people knew, in fact, while snickering wasn’t that uncommon for the group that Mr. B hung around with, adding paranoia with reality, the students looked back at her. Uncomfortably, she took the edges off her blazer and pulled it closed. Her chest, much larger then normal given its usage over the past few days, hung free without a bra and she felt so naked, much like she was wearing a swimming suit into class but much much worse it seemed to her.
As students repositioned themselves at tables to take the test, a small table housed her, another person right next to her, and Mr. B straight dead ahead of her so that they were parted only by a table. They traded looks, casual knowing glances at each other from across that slab of wood. Tests were passed and Becky quickly tried to silence the uncomfortable feelings boiling in her body and gave her eyes over to the test in front of her. She busily went to it until she heard a pencil dropping on the ground. Mr. B disappeared under the table to retrieve his lost property, only to capitalize upon his position and snatch a foot from Becky. Hard, her knee withdrew and noisily banged upon the under part of the table. She recoiled in agony. Everybody looked at them and Becky froze with instant fear. Mr. B went for another attempt at snatching the foot. Becky gave him eyes, whispering ever so honey softly so that not even the student next to her could hear.
Her plump Mexican lips whisper "Stop it" but Mr. B got what he had been looking for. Becky was in no position to bring any more attention to herself, because each set of eyes that looked at her she felt… humiliated, shamed, she just wanted to disappear. She was quiet, but not against being around people but she was now. Perhaps she always would be. Oh god, they cant know her secret and she didn’t want anyone looking at her, for fear her unforgivable actions could be read upon her soft featured, bronzed face.
Mr . B pulled off her high heel and even her sock. She felt a nail running along the tip of her toe, it was ticklish at first, but soon as that nail drove into just under her pinky toe, the far more delicate and sensitive of the five, she realized with burning accuracy that what was being driven into her flesh was no nail but a pencil – a sharpened pencil with a fine penetrating tip that made easy work of her tender flesh as it drove deeper into the tender flesh, pulling it inward until it pierced inside. She winced, her eyes looking at Mr. B before he told her that she needed to get a perfect grade on this test or she would be punished. Begrudgingly, she returned to her work, eyes half closed and then forcefully shut each time she felt that pencil renew itself with a poke, a prod and a penetrating pierce. It wasn’t too painful but Jesus, anyone could see if they wanted to which made her extra careful with her voiced reprisal.
The idea that it wasn’t painful disappeared as the pencil stuck in between the toes, wedging itself into the flesh of her foot. She squirmed, trying her best to retain her mind and will power, begging she wouldn’t just break down balling and crying. She wanted it over. She bit her lip which had been slit the night before drawing blood. It stung the moment she chomped on it but it was alleviating the severe and overwhelmingly potent sting of a sharp pencil tip driving repetitiously into her dainty toes and feet.
The test came and went but she was able to successfully do the material at hand, after all, she wasn’t just an athlete, she was incredibly smart too and she was being an expert as… blocking and blinking away humiliation and the pain associated with such. In fact, she could have went off to a real college but she choose to remain here, at Kelly, to practice her swimming and win championships for the school. Besides, she was a little to scared to go out into the ‘real’ world, she liked the strict, controlled environment of Kelly College – it forced her to obey rules and she was all about following them.
As the class period came to an end, her test was snatched by Mr. B whom scratched her name off with the eraser from the very pencil that had brought her so much woe and replaced her name with his own. Before she could move herself, to say something, do anything to the astonishing and frightening display that was Mr. B’s control over her, he slid his own, empty test along with his pencil. She looked at it blankly, he wanted her to put her name on it, she knew that but she could never do something like that but in that moment she knew she had to follow orders, even if they were unspoken. She signed her name upon the empty test, which would doom her to carry a scarlet letter, a horrible mark of neglect upon her transcripts. Her near perfect grades would be ruined, ruined just like her body had been ruined. She dashingly brushed her wavy hair out from one of her large welding eyes and signed her name before the tests disappeared. Mr. B wiggled his fingers, making a motion that she followed regretfully – she returned the pencil so he could drive it into her swimming feet some more. This time he jabbed and jammed it against her flesh, not so much digging into her flesh so much as just stabbing remorselessly. Apparently her feet could be tortured a lot more then she was lead to believe by what Mr. B had done to her during class.
Afterward, she followed awkwardly side by side Mr. B as they exited the classroom, they were the first ones out, he was in a rush and so too was she, but she was in a rush to get away from Mr. B before anything else happened. She couldn’t imagine any more torture but as soon as her mind came to that, the boys' bathroom was opened and Mr. B shoved her into one of the little mirror rooms. It was rarely used by the guys but this college was all about equal treatment of students no matter the gender so whatever the girls bathroom had, so too did the guys, within reason of course.
Mr. B tied her against the mirror, wrapping her hands and arms around the mirror and tying them with hemp rope. It felt tight as her arms were pulled back, her breasts pressing outward against her blouse so much that her buttons were straining to remain on. Worse yet she was made to stand, feeling those wooden little half sphere things in her shoes truly start to press into her. With a firm and dominant hand, he slapped one of the breasts, causing it to jiggle with motion before he left.
With her rear end pushing against the mirror, she looked backward to inspect what was going on onto to be able to see her wounded, abused butt cheeks flatten upon the reflective surface. She whimpered as Mr.B told her to remain quite as he went to class.
During the next class period she had heard the bathroom being used periodically by guys entering and leaving. Even the room that she was in was lock-less. Anyone could find her, anyone could, and it didn’t help matters that her skirt was pulled up and intricately tied in with the knot, meaning her tender silk ass was rubbing against the mirror that she was forced to share space with.
This isn’t to say she didn’t try to escape though, but after several attempts shed rubbed her wrists rather raw because of the hemp rope and its tightness. She never gave up. Or so she thought but moments into her doomed and humiliating state, she gave up, weeping to herself, shutting up each time a new person entered into the boys room. What had she done? Why was she allowing this torture to continue? If only she came clean….
Never, how could she? She was a role model, she couldn’t let down her menthes, and what if the teachers found out, she could never look anyone in the eyes again.
Alone, she tried to think of the life she once had, trying to convince herself it would all be okay, it would go back to normal if…. And she always got hung up on that thought process. She was trapped, she was worthless, hopeless and there was nothing she could do or say to weasel out of the situation. It upset her greatly. She didn’t even have her teary cheeked face composed when they arrived back to the room she was tied in. She always tried to act as if she was perfectly okay, her mind still the same as always but as they barged in to the room she crumpled and cried out in panic, begging for it to stop. She needed this nightmare to end.
Alex untied her, smiling before whispering into her ear before snatching a thick piece of the earlobe and bit it between his sharp teeth. “I got a surprise for you.” He said diabolically. Becky, along with the five kids flanking her, walking out of the school after it had let out. They made their way through the woods, a place she was familiar with. She enjoyed swimming in the stream, enough to allow for leisure swimming by one person but not two whom were side by side. It was rather narrow but deep and flush with wild life. It was exceptionally beautiful but she had no idea where the boys were taking her, and she had no idea where they were going nor did she want to know.
The very thing she felt naturally attuned to, the forest and solidarity betrayed her however, without shoes upon her little feet, she had to make the incredible track vulnerable and most susceptible to the underbrush of the woods. It was already rather chilly, the fall waning ever so swiftly, leaving branches and the soon to be death of the forest upon the ground prepared and waiting for the little Mexican star to step upon them. She lost her balance a few times, a mixture of exhaustion and humiliation. It took an incredible amount of willpower and thus energy to conduct her daily affairs, bottling all her emotions inside her lush body, earning her the wrath of the underbrush, it was exceedingly hard to keep balance when guys were behind her poking and probing her voluptuous derrière, ushering her faster and other such go the distance words.
Once was a gorgeous virgin Mexican, but now she looked broken and perhaps humbled as she struggled to get to the creak, her clothing reflecting her disgruntled state of mind. She had also even had her hands and arms tightly bundled upon her back by familiar rope, making balance an issue also. Her wavy midnight hair frizzed because of the shower she had taken unexpectedly and hadn’t the chance to dry off properly or even ‘get ready’ for school after successfully surviving vicious, atrocious behavior at some eager, rebellious hands the night prior.
She didn’t look too great now though, at least willful, her natural beauty remained unblemished, her slender legs still toned from years of swimming and her stomach pouched with just a little bit of chub, enough to grow this already heavy breasted female to at least the next cup or two. Soon the creak was upon them, and they continued to poke her, ushering her further back into the stream of bitter cold water, given the temperature had waned with the seasons onslaught.
“What, no! Come on, please, please, I… I can’t do that. You already made me fail a test, my… my future is… I don’t know if they will allow me to swim. I got a tourney tonight that I need to compete in… it’s… its important, I need to win tonight to get into the Olympics and… “ Her eyes wistfully turned to Mr. B, pleading, which was a sight to see for she was bound by rope, arms behind her. She wasn’t on her knees but she might as well have been. “ Please… haven’t you done enough, I swear, I won’t tell anybody but I need to rest for the swim.”
Alex leaned over to Mr. B, whispering. “You made her fail a test?”
Mr. B nodded.
Alex smugly laughed, her hand clapping upon Mr.B’s shoulder playfully. “So are the Mexicans the Russian jews?” (bad taste I know, but taste all the same).
“You can go back to your life whenever you want. Say the word, we shall release you but your photos will indeed make it to every single being…”
Becky cut him off by barking back. “I heard that already.” But still to show her change of attitude, she slowly, toe pointed down into the creek, sampled the water. It felt wonderful, washing off the caked on dirt of the travel along with washing her wounds, it felt cleansing but only for her toes, soon enough her entire body chilled, causing her to withdraw.
Mr. B pipped up. “You may take off your clothes now if you don’t want them wet for the walk back.”
The idea was appealing, though she felt terrible more pictures were being taken of her slipping out of her clothing the moment her ropes were loosened. Each piece of clothing slipped off from her form almost erotically, though she didn’t intend to seem so provocative- taking off her blouse was still an ordeal, ropes being loosened but not undone, causing her chest to jolt out bouncingly but soon stiffened and hardened by the chilly air surrounding their unholy actions. Her lips pouted with grace as she struggled to debase herself in front of the camera. With just her panties remaining, a stick was slapped upward, striking her firmly upon her crotch and whipping the end to strike flimsily upward her precious rear end. Crack, Mr. B’s stick wailed with dominance, Becky’s hands went from the panties waistbands to her crotch, covering it up before rubbing her crotch tenderly and with dedication, trying to smooth out the stinging sensation.
“Alex, did you get a picture of that?” Mr. B smirked, Alex searched and laughed, looking at Becky.
“It seems to me that you've have been drooling in your panties.” Mr. B spoke heavily, ordering Becky to remove her hands. She knew exactly what he had been referring to. Her panties were drenched with her sizzling love juices. Even with the humiliation of being found out, she removed her hands, her eyes shut issuing more tears as her body trembled in the sheer cold.
“And no one really touched her down there, right, we have just been whipping her for… what… the past hour?” Mr. B questioned and all the guys agreed, Becky knew where this was going and instantly waged her own protest, her hands ignoring her soaking wet spot on her panties.
“You’ve been … touching it… and whipping it… at me. That is all…” She nervously spoke before hurriedly stripping her panties off, exposing her swelling pussy, lips firm against her lovely snatch. Nudity was better than being made aware of the very physical evidence of her body responding favorably to this behavior and pain. She threw her clothing on the tree before turning herself around to face the creak, the guys in the background laughing over her shoulder, whistling, calling her a whip loving whore, things to that nature. Mr B was, however, silent as she did what was expected of her. Stepping into the water she submerged herself in cold water. The guys watched as she did so.
Soon after they ordered her back above the water where rope tying was done to her arms and hands. When such was done, a longer rope was produced and thrown to sling around a sturdy branch stretching over the rather quick moving stream of water, its foundations a tree. Using the branch to support and leverage Becky, they pushed her over the side, unexpectedly because all Becky was doing was asking what they were doing in the most annoying manner possible. She was suspended above the whipping water until finally Dave loosened his grip, allowing the poor little literally helpless girl to dip into the water. To keep herself afloat she needed to frantically flail her legs to keep her above water submersion but even an expert swimmer like her was unaccustomed to the odd position, causing her to look like a cat out of water almost, her struggles for breath were offset only by the mesmerizing beauty of water splashing about her body, the water licking her tenderized, mistreated, inflamed and red skin. One might think that the water was a nice relaxation from the torture she had undergone but it was just another addition to the humiliation she had already suffered. Another picture was snapped as her exposed set tight skinned breast wobbled and bounced up and down, side by side. Then Dave began to dunk her into the water before drawing her out, then back into the water, then out. Becky’s knees scrapped against the rock that blockaded the creaks little streaming journey down to another body of water way in the distance.
The guys eventually grew immune to the girls screams, and while there were screams, though some might be gargled and muffled by intake of coughing choking water, but they emanated throughout the woods all the same. No one could hear her this time around so no one really minded it, and it gave the poor little Mexican the perfect chance to relieve herself from the hours of stress that her mind body and soul had been put through. As the scene became boring, Mr. B took her clothing and showed it to each of his friends, who giggled, encouraging him to further up the stakes. With that, he tossed the clothing into the rushing stream, smirking as he called out. “Better swim fast. Dave give her some slack.” With that Becky realized that her clothing, her unkempt, wrinkled uniform that had seen so many horrors, was now making its way down stream. Quickly she swam for it, after all, without them she had suffered walking home the bitter indignity of having to sneak, once again, naked, into the boys dorm… the girls dorm… she was going home tonight… to her comfortable bed… to sleep in and forget this nightmare and leave it all behind.
Though she had it right the first time, she was indeed going to be going to the boys dorm room.
Swimming, she snatched her clothing with her teeth frantically but it was impossible… she continued to try until she was prevented from moving further from the rope. God, she didn’t care, she needed her clothing, even if she couldn’t pick them up she had to try, she couldn’t… remain naked all that walk home. Desperately, she strength fully pulled the rope from the branch and slipped through the narrow creak to retrieve her quickly paced floating clothing but alas it was too late. The rope was snatched and she was dragged back to the shore, doomed to walk home, naked and without shoes… probably to be walloped and punished by random sticks
Big and small.
Upon returning to the common grounds, they sneak her, at night, into Mr. B’s dorm room where she is given new clothing though she still remained slightly chilled by her semi-damp body. She got dressed in front of them, in front of the camera but after so much torture and terror she said it didn't mind – it was second nature, almost but the moral emotional sting still remained rather potently in the back of her mind. She could never get used to this treatment. The guys soon left her, or rather remained in the room to get ready, they said it like it was going to be a torture thing against her but she… just didn’t hear it in their foreboding voice. The only thing on her mind was she might be late for the meet. She needed to retain something of her precious previous virgin innocent pure life. Mr. B escorted her, like a warden or prisoner guard to the head coaches office. She looked back at Mr. B, the Russian, questioningly, having thought he was going to take her to the pool area. True, they were very close to the pool facilities, however, they were not in there.
Mr. B produced a tight, white, almost transparent two piece swimsuit. She looked at it, the size was utterly tiny and he was able to hold both pieces with just a finger. She shook her head before huffing, showing a little more of her spirit before snatching them.
“I want you to convince your head coach that you want to wear these for the tournament.” Was his instructions, Becky was getting so far into anger and rage that she would do this, she would, but soon she would escape, she would figure out a way but having her body iced over, abused, groped, and damaged, perhaps even scarred, she was in no sane condition to plan her escape so she would just…. Go along with this… Tomorrow she would solve all this… she would, she promised herself.
Huffing and puffing, she exited the coaches office, slightly angry.
Becky looked downward at her feet as she reported to Mr. B. “he asked if I was sick.” But after a few moments she got back onto the saddle and slipped into the office once again to make a plea, using her body as an alluring token, much to Mr. B’s suggestion. In fact, she put on the swimming attire before she returned to the office. It was white, clinging desperately to her stomach, causing a little lumping roll to appear, her breasts stretching the material with ease, almost ripping the thinness of it, and her ass, well, her cheeks so large that the fabric collected and slipped in between her ass cheeks and even pussy lips. If one had great eyes and looked directly at the nervous, teenage girl they’d be treated with the sight that her pussy lips were exposed… and punished thoroughly.
She was told that she must compete tonight, she must also win, Mr. B reasoning to her that he just wanted to see all those fans to see just how naughty the Mexican spitfire could be, and also be a successful young woman at the same time. Secretly, he just wanted the girls to admire a slut, see how skillful a person could be even after she had given her precious soul away to someone elses' devious and wicked intent.
Hastily, she placed a towel over her body before she competed in the tournament. So worn out, she almost lost but she needed to win, or else everyone in the school would know what she had done and had been doing and what she… wouldn’t be doing tomorrow. Tomorrow she would find a way and escape. Somehow, someway. hopefully.
It was terrifying, so many eyes glued to her, when she removed her towel to start the swim, she heard a collective gasp of surprise and shock. It was a wonder how she wasn’t disqualified but perhaps all the males approved of the skimpy attire. Her nipples swollen, much more rock-hard the moment everyone and literally their mothers saw her shamelessly display her body. Her folds of flesh from her stomach and breasts popping out of the sides of the outfit, but she put it out of her mind. She needed to win.
After winning the meet, she relaxed in the pool, exhaustive and spent. She had been tormented and tortured most of the day, holding back tears of hatred, rage, and humiliation, but as she swam she let it all out. She was actually so fast she beat her old times. New record set. Mr. B would be pleased that all the people watching the scandalously dressed, moral-less slut was still able to excel in her sport. She left herself underwater, soaking in the feeling of it against her body as people began to leave left and right. Even her teammates left her be, no one spoke to her, no one at all. Even after she’d stolen the race, even after she was a champion and winner, no one dare talk to the sick perverted whore who wore next to nothing, where her breasts, purple and blue as they were, bleed out in coloration, not in actual blood, from her white thin bikini top swim suit.
If only she could just be left alone.
That didn’t happen as she looked up, her wavy damp hair and clinging to her shoulders, her thick hair webbing outstretched behind her very submerged head as she tried to wash her body as much as her sins that she allowed to be done to her. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed all five of the boys in swim trunks. She bit her lower lip, eyes piercing at them. She wouldn’t let them see her cry – not this time. No, she would be free and they couldn’t do anything else to her, not after what she’d made herself do, what she had put herself through. The whole school might not possess those blackmail photos – but they DID possess the memory of her lush, luxurious body tightly concealed and strapped with a tight see-through-ish bathing suit.
Start of part 3