Chapter 6

Wherein we find our young heroine and her best friend dressed in naughty schoolgirl outfits and driven to a downtown bar.

Kristen said, "I'm scared, Courtney. I want to go home." But she was pretty sure that wasn't going to happen.

Courtney had never been in a bar before, and the first thing she noticed was the noise. The music was loud and so were the voices of the patrons. Then she saw that except for the two bartenders, everyone in the place was female. The joint was entirely filled with women drinking, laughing, and talking.

"Don't worry," said Courtney with false bravado. "Mrs. Lunsford will take care of us. Everything will be okay."

The girls looked around for Melinda Lunsford, Courtney's suburban socialite lover, but didn't see her anywhere. They turned to Mrs. Leslie for answers but she had disappeared. Now the young teenagers were on the verge of panic, thinking Brooke had abandoned them. They may have been only thirteen years old, but they weren't stupid. They knew they had been duped.

Suddenly the music stopped, and there was Mrs. Leslie standing at the bar with a microphone in her hand. "Good evening ladies!" she said, her voice booming from speakers by the dance floor. "Welcome to the twelfth annual fund raiser for Westchester College women's athletics!" There was some polite applause from the crowd. "I'm Brooke Leslie, class of 1995, with tonight's entertainment. As you know, we're here tonight to raise money for new locker room facilities for the Westchester Lions women's basketball team."

A cheer went up from a group of unusually tall young women. Brooke continued: "Last year, the men's basketball team got a brand new locker room, but the college refused to buy new facilities for the ladies. Is that fair?"

"No!" the crowd roared.

"Fucking right it isn't!" said Brooke, "so tonight we're here to take matters into our own hands, and give our Lady Lions the state-of-the-art facilities they deserve!" More shouts of approval from the crowd. "To help us, I've brought along two very special guests, but before I introduce them, I have a question for all of you." Here she paused for effect, making eye contact with many of the women. "The question is: 'Do you like pussy?'"

Some of the women cheered, while others laughed nervously.

"Do you like sweet, beautiful, fresh, unsullied teenaged pussy?"

Another, louder cheer. Courtney and Kristen traded stunned looks. Courtney looked towards the door, but a circle of women had formed around them blocking any possible escape route.

"Well then, ladies," Brooke went on, "I think you're going to enjoy tonight's entertainment, and we're going to raise shitloads of money for that new locker room." Brooke held up her hands to quiet the applause. She approached a women standing at the front of the crowd. The woman was about thirty-five, attractive if a bit plump, wearing jeans and a Westchester College sweatshirt. She was holding a pint glass of beer. "What's your name?" Brooke asked.

"Joanne," the woman answered, leaning in towards the mic.

"Let me ask you something, Joanne. When was the last time you tasted a thirteen-year-old virgin pussy?" She held out the microphone so everyone could hear the response.

"Ah, never," said Joanne, laughing.

"Would you like to?"

"Oh my god, yes! That's my biggest fantasy," she said, her words almost drowned out by the whistles and laughter of her friends.

"Then this is your lucky night, Joanne," said Brooke. "Tonight we have not one, but two sexy thirteen-year-old virgins here to fulfill your fantasies." As the crowd roared its approval, the circle of women closed in on the two young girls.

"Courtney, Kristen," Brooke said, "you're needed front and center."

The crowd parted for the two nervous tweeners, urging them forward. Because the girls had been at the back of the crowd, Joanne didn't see them until they reached the bar. Her mouth fell open. Here were two exceptionally pretty girls, both clearly underage, one slim and blonde, the other brunette with rather pronounced curves. Both girls were dressed in white blouses with no evidence of a bra showing. They wore very short pleated tartan skirts and white knees socks. And most stunning of all, both girls were wearing thick leather collars inscribed with the words 'FUCK TOY' in shiny metallic block letters.

"What do you think, Joanne?" said Brooke

"I can't believe it!" Joanne gushed. "They're gorgeous!"

"They are, aren't they?" Brooke looked out into the crowd. "And ladies..." She paused, lowering her voice. " ... I promise you that neither has been defiled by man or boy. But you don't have to take my word for it. You'll soon be able to inspect them for yourselves. And taste them, and lick them, and suck them. You can do anything but take their cherries."

Another pause, with a few groans of disappointment from the crowd.

"That comes later," Brooke added, to hoots and more cheers.

The two young friends looked at each other in horror. Melinda had told them only that they were going to a fund raising event for her college, but it seemed that they were to be the entertainment for a lust-crazed pack of lesbians. And what was that business about 'later'?

"Jack," said Brooke, addressing one of the bartenders. "Our guests look a little nervous. I think they need some liquid courage."

"Coming right up," said the bartender, and quickly mixed a shaker of kamikazes. He poured two glasses and slid them across the bar. Brooke gave the drinks to the girls, saying, "Drink up. You'll like it."

Courtney took a sip. Brooke was right, she did like it. The kamikaze tasted like lemonade.

"Come on, girls, bottoms up," said Brooke. "The crowd is getting restless."

Courtney looked at her best friend and shrugged. She raised the glass and drank it down. Kristen followed Courtney's lead and drank. An unfamiliar warmth spread through her small body, all the way to her fingers and toes.

"Okay, one more," said Brooke, handing them each another glass. The girls quickly drained their glasses. Courtney felt a rush as the alcohol hit her brain.

"Now then, let's get a better look at our first young hottie," said Brooke's voice through the loudspeakers. "I need a big, strong girl to give Kristen a lift."

"Yolanda! Yolanda!" shouted the basketball players. As the others cheered, one of them stood and approached the bar. The center on the team, Yolanda was six foot five and well over two hundred pounds. Her skin was the color of dark chocolate, and her hair was done in braids that fell to her shoulders. She dwarfed the two thirteen-year-olds, and even Brooke, who was close to six feet tall, had to stretch to kiss her.

"Yolanda, sweetie, could you give little Kristen a hand up onto the bar?"

Courtney moved as if to reach for her friend, but Brooke held her by the arm. Yolanda said nothing, just grinned and lifted Kristen to the bar top as easily as if she were a baby. The slender blonde was almost trembling with fright.

"Now then, Kristen," said Brooke into the mic. "To help with our fundraiser, I want you to do a little striptease to help these all nice women get in the right mood."

Kristen only stared back at her. She considered her chances of escape, but there was a sea of women between her and the door, and just below her was Yolanda.

"I'm afraid Kristen is a little shy," said Brooke. "We need two volunteers up here to help with her clothes." From the many who volunteered, Brooke chose a fit looking woman of about forty and another basketball player. Both were plenty tall and strong, though not as big as Yolanda. They climbed atop the bar to stand on either side of Kristen. The little girl looked very young and vulnerable beside them.

Courtney felt sick. What had she gotten her friend into? Poor Kristen had only had sex for the first time two days earlier, and now she'd been dragged into this craziness. Kristen was looking down at her as if Courtney might still pull off a rescue, but what could she do?

She mouthed the words, "I'm sorry," to her friend.

Meanwhile, Brooke spoke to a woman standing next to the juke box. "Maggie--some music, please?"

Maggie chose a CD and soon the slow, smoky beat of a classic blues number filled the place. With a nod from Brooke, the two women began to undress Kristen. The younger of them held her arms behind her back while the older one undid the buttons of her blouse. When it was off, they held Kristen's hands out to the sides to let the crowd admire her. The fortyish woman couldn't resist running her hands all over the child's pale unblemished chest, especially her small, barely formed breasts.

Kristen wished that she could sink into the bar and disappear. She had never felt so ashamed in her life. The older woman held Kristen's arms over her head while the other reached around her to caress her breasts and squeeze her nipples from behind. The crowd whistled and whooped their approval.

After a minute, they spun Kristen around and raised her skirt. There were 'oooos' and 'ahhhs' as the women looked at the girl's thin coltish legs. Those standing very close could see the fine, never-shaved blonde hair on her calves. The lacy thong she wore did little to hide her deliciously round butt, but rather served to accentuate its innocent perfection. They removed her skirt and spun her around so the women could see her from every angle. With her back to the crowd, both women stroked her ass and legs.