Chapter 4: A Catholic mom loses a game & then ... so much more

A moment later the pain in Shawna’s ribs had some company as a new pain blossomed in her back. Everything was happening now all too quickly for the pretty Catholic mom. She had landed, not on her feet, but on her spine and the delicate bones and nerve endings contained there now absorbed the full force of Damon’s push. She had been shoved backwards with a force strong enough to lift her off the ground and the statuesque white soccer mom, who had lived such a sheltered life up until this point, now slammed against the metal frame of the bus seat behind her with her feet still floating in air. Shawna would have let out a sharp cry of pain but the force of Damon’s push had knocked all of the air right out of her lungs.

Off the bus seat’s metal frame the pretty Catholic mom now bounced and there was only a millisecond for her to be shocked for she was then stumbling forward again, completely unable to stop. Agony now shot up Shawna’s leg as the two ends of the broken bone in her foot now ground together but, a moment before she could fall to her knees, Damon, once again, lunged towards her. His arms now thrust outwards a second time as, with all the force he could muster, the 14-year-old black boy shoved Shawna again. His two hands now struck Shawna in the exact same spot as before and, if there was anything for which she could be grateful, it was that this time her upper body was tilted slightly forward and the impact struck her a glancing blow. Still, she went flying backward yet again, and, for a second time, Shawna’s back now struck the metal frame of the bus seat; this blow landing only a few millimeters off from the first one.

It was enough that this time she didn’t bounce forward but instead ricocheted off at an angle. Her left hand reached out instinctively and grabbed the side of the bus seat as her body slid past it and her grip was just barely enough to keep her shapely bottom from landing hard in the dirty, metal bus aisle. Instead she rotated around and landed on her back in the one bus seat that wasn’t already filled with kids. Through a cloud of pain more intense than anything she had ever known, Shawna’s mind now told her she had to get away and so she retreated to the only place she had left; painfully dragging herself against the metal bus wall as far into the seat and away from Damon as she could possibly get.

He pushed me. Shawna now thought dimly through a heavy cloud of pain.

That little bastard actually pushed me.

She had backed into the seat instinctively and now Shawna’s movements became even more frantic as she realized Damon was following her. Now there was nowhere for her to go as her back was literally against the wall. Shawna’s eyes darted left and then she moved; into the footwell in front of the bus seat. Her ribs, foot and back still throbbed dreadfully but Shawna kept moving. The pretty Catholic mom grasped the top of the seatback in front of her, fully intending to climb over it in spite of the fact that three boys were already there. They were all kneeling on their seat and facing her; their stomachs pressed up against the seatback, their cell phone cameras held out in front of them. Now, in a frenzied attempt to get away from Damon, Shawna got so close to them that the boy closest to the wall was able to kiss her on the mouth. His mouth was dry, thick and meaty and she was sure, in the moment before she stumbled back, that she felt the tip of his tongue as it brushed against her lips.

Again, Shawna reacted instinctively; stumbling backwards and allowing Damon, who had now climbed onto the seat, to grab two handfuls of her hair. This he did and, a moment later, the 14-year-old black boy gave Shawna’s long chestnut locks a yank with all of his force. New bolts of pain now screamed through Shawna’s neck and scalp and the pretty Catholic mom felt herself slam down hard; the thin cushion that covered the seat’s metal frame was completely inadequate at softening this latest blow. Shawna’s eyes now closed instinctively once again as her world was turned to nothing but blackness and pain and, just when she hoped it might be over, a new anguish blossomed. It exploded both up and down her right arm, flaring from its center and the pretty Catholic mom now had just enough time to realize that Damon had kicked her, directly above her right elbow, before pain flared again. Fortunately for Shawna, this time, it wasn’t as bad.

This time, when Damon kicked her, he must have used his left foot for this strike clipped the back of her tricep and that muscle partially softened the blow as the toe of his boot once again slammed into her ribs. In the end it was a moot point for, from there, Shawna was never given an opportunity to recover. Damon kicked her over and over again and the steel toe of his right boot proceeded to now pulverize Shawna all the way from her elbow to her wrist before making its way back up again; this time extending to her shoulder. Shawna had to try to protect her ribs too for Damon’s left boot was alternating with his right and, unfortunately for her, the only thing the pretty Catholic mom could use to protect her ribs was her vulnerable right arm and her elegant left hand.

The fingers of that hand now wrapped themselves around each battered and bruised area, wherever she had been struck last, but this did not deter Damon. Instead the steel toe of each boot now concentrated on those fingers and it took only three blows before Shawna had endured enough. Her left hand now retreated, leaving her right arm and ribs to their fate for there was nothing those delicate digits could do. From out in the blackness beyond her tightly shut eyes, Shawna heard Damon crow with victory at her left hand’s retreat and, by the time he had finished kicking her arm, it was simply a useless excruciating mass of fire and ground up hamburger; something that the pretty Catholic mom was now sure would be far too painful to move. In fact, Shawna found that, at least for the moment, she could do nothing except try and curl into a ball with her eyes shut and her teeth clenched and pray that the humiliating beating she was enduring at the hands of a 14 year old boy would soon be over. Now, for at least this one time, Shawna’s wish seemed to be granted.

Damon’s merciless kicks had probably lasted for less than a minute but, considering the boy had shown he could deliver a kick every second, to Shawna it still felt like an eternity. Even worse, after the brutal assault stopped, a new one took its place. The pretty Catholic mom now felt her hair being yanked once again as Damon started dragging her out, away from the wall, and with her right arm hammered into submission, Shawna’s only choice was to not fight back. There was a momentary impulse to shove her left hand between the seat and the wall and hold on for dear life but this instinct Shawna was somehow able to resist. She had no doubt what had been done to her right arm could also be done to her left and, the way things were going, Shawna wanted that arm to remain available for any further defense. Instead, the 38-year-old suburban white mom, her eyes shut and her lips pursed in pain, now allowed herself to be dragged out and away from the steel bus wall. Damon now hauled her a good 6 inches away from the wall and, in the end, Shawna even helped him, pushing her left hand along the bus seat in a vain attempt to ease the burning in her scalp. Finally, that painful sensation ended but, with her eyes still tightly shut, Shawna gave a little yelp of surprise as she felt something heavy drop onto her lap.

“GAAH!?”

It was nothing but the cry of a frightened animal and, as the pretty Catholic mom’s gorgeous green orbs opened to see what had fallen on top of her, there was Damon. The revolting smirk on his face was, at first, blurry but then slowly came into focus. He was straddling her lap with the front of his body almost pressed up against hers and, as his entire weight now held her down, he shifted it to his knees as he placed these on Shawna’s vulnerable hands. This, the pretty Catholic mom now discovered, was like having a 45 lb. dumbbell resting on the delicate bones within each of those two hands and poor Shawna now squawked and squealed and tried in vain to at least pull her left hand free for her right arm was still far too numb to offer any resistance.

“OWWWWW-UHHHH-GAAHHHH-PLEASE!!! LUH-LET-LET-LET ME GO!!!”

Now, instead of acceding to Shawna’s pleas, Damon struck her again. His right fist punched Shawna directly in her left bicep and, all of a sudden, the pretty Catholic mom understood why the other kids called him Li’l Brick. Pain exploded throughout her left arm and this was accompanied by the horrible sound of thwock!. It was the sound of human flesh having something impossibly hard crash into it. Now, despite her pain, Shawna now started to struggle more fervently but, though she never missed a body sculpting class at the local ‘Y’, the muscles in her well-toned arms weren’t used to enduring such a brutal and unmerciful pounding. Although Damon alternated his blows between Shawna’s arms, the pain that shot through each limb didn’t have the slightest time to subside before another tiny but rock-hard fist was slamming into it again.

The 14-year-old black boy now proceeded to pound the arms of the gorgeous white soccer mom from the tops of her shoulders to the bottom of her wrists over and over again. He did this several times before finally turning his attention to Shawna’s midsection. Now the blows rained down there as well and, in the dim, hazy blackness of fire and torment that was her new world, Shawna almost thought she could feel her ribs flex each time one of Damon’s fists crashed into them. In the end, she didn’t even resist but instead just tried to bend her body forward but was blocked from doing so for Damon still straddled her lap. For how long Damon’s fists drilled repeatedly into her midsection, Shawna couldn’t be sure but to the pretty Catholic mom it felt like it went on forever. Now, with both of her eyes closed, all Shawna could do was let out a series of animal-like grunts while she trembled and waited for her pain to subside. Then there came the sensation; it was Damon and he was climbing off her lap and for a moment Shawna had a ray of hope that her nightmare might finally be over.

But, as he now climbed off her, Damon’s fingers hooked themselves inside the top outside corners of her jumpsuit. Shawna’s mind now screamed to her with alarm but her muscles were still all but paralyzed. Besides, the pretty Catholic mom now thought, this simple innocuous action wasn’t a good enough reason for her to risk another beating. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn’t have refused for every muscle on the front of her body between her pelvis and her breasts had been pulverized and, if anything, they had gotten off light when compared to the walloping taken by her arms. Even worse was that Shawna realized that she wasn’t fighting back because she was afraid. She may have grown up in the lower middle-class side of Mount Lebanon but, back then, people had minded their manners. They raised their kids to be civilized and the only bullies she had to deal with were the mean girls who would attack with words instead of fists. The violence she was experiencing today was something completely alien; an act that, in her 38 years of existence, Shawna had never before known. It was a paralyzing experience, both physically and emotionally, and one that she didn’t know how to escape. While she may have been apprehensive when she first got on the bus, now her gifted mind yammered to itself in panicked alarm, totally overwhelmed by all the horrifying possibilities of what could potentially happen. That fear now only increased with

each passing second as Shawna felt Damon place his forearms on top of her back and then lean most of his weight on them. If she could have pulled herself up into a sitting position before, she certainly couldn’t now, and her terror only grew worse when she realized just why she was being held down. With his forearms on her back, Damon’s hands now moved swiftly. His fingertips brushed lightly on the back of her neck as he parted her long brown hair and then grabbed the pull tag on the tiny zipper that fastened together the top of her Vince Camuto Tie Split Sleeve jumpsuit.

“What are you doing?! NO!!” Shawna now moaned. She would have just as soon screamed it but with the beating she had taken and, with her upper body pressed down firmly against her legs, the pretty Catholic mom

couldn’t get enough oxygen for a terrified shriek. Above her, as Shawna struggled weakly but as furtively as her bruised muscles would allow; Damon simply ignored her. The 14-year-old black boy now, instead, merely pushed the zipper that kept the back of her jumpsuit closed down to its most open position. Shawna could do nothing except squeal and cry and then moan and whimper as she felt the light thin fabric of her favorite summer outfit slide softly over her back yielding a new and more expansive view of her flawless porcelain and slightly olive-tinted skin. In less than a second, the zipper on Shawna’s jumpsuit could go no further south.

“Nice looking back Mrs. McDonnell”.

Damon’s voice from up above her only made Shawna struggle harder while each movement that the pretty

Catholic mom now desperately made, in an effort to try and break free, brought another fiery bolt of pain shooting out of her ribs, her stomach and her arms. In the end, it was no use. Her chest was pinned to her thighs and Shawna could tell that she was hopelessly stuck; unable to either strike at the 14-year-old boy who had captured her or think of any way to get him to stop.

“Does the rest of you look as tasty as your white mommy’s back?”

Shawna’s mind now raced as she tried to think of an answer. The truth had no bearing here, all that mattered was figuring out just what it was that she could say that would get this evil little boy to leave her alone.

“You ... you’re going to guh-get in trouble”

It was nothing but a whimper from the formerly overbearing suburban Catholic mom and, once again, Damon simply ignored it. Instead, from her prone position, staring at the floor, Shawna now experienced a new horror. The fingers of a 14-year-old black boy she had never met before an hour ago were now grabbing ahold of the clasp of her bra. Just when she thought her worst fear would come true, instead of unhooking it, Damon now asked her a question.

“Should I unhook your bra Mrs. McDonnell?”

The tone of Damon’s voice now contained only mild curiosity as if what he was asking was only the most casual of questions.

“Nuh-no puh-plea-please.”

Shawna was now stammering in sheer terror, her voice so low that it was almost a whisper. It was as though she believed that if she were quiet, no one else on the bus would know about her embarrassing situation. Still pinned down, Shawna squirmed left and right, all to no avail. She was stuck. Her large breasts were pressed firmly against the tops of her thighs and she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Stop squirming or you’re going to make me mad.”

Shawna stopped squirming and stayed pressed down in the seat, thinking this must be what a mouse feels like with the steel bar pressing down on its now broken neck just because it had wanted a piece of cheese.

“Well, if I’m not going to unhook your bra, are you gonna be a good girl for me from now on?”

Despite her terror, the humiliation of her, a 38-year-old fully grown adult woman, someone who had graduated from college at the very top of her class, being made to promise that she would behave for an impudent little 14-year-old black boy; even with all the terror and pain of the day, this indignity still burned Shawna to the core. Still, the pretty Catholic mom felt as though, at the moment, she had no choice but to swallow her pride and say what she knew her captor wanted to hear.

“Yuh-Yes ... yes ... yes. I-I’m going to b-be a guh-guh-good girl f-for yuh-you” said Shawna sullenly. The words left an awful and bitter taste in her mouth and, under her breath, the pretty Catholic mom promised herself that she would soon make this black boy pay.

“Alright, well then if you promise to cooperate, I’ll let you up”

The pressure came off her back as Damon removed his arms and Shawna now sat up as quickly as she could. Unfortunately for Shawna, as soon as she had did, Damon grabbed her again. As Shawna now sat up, his hands gripped her shoulders and the 14-year-old black boy now roughly slammed her back into the seat. Shawna’s body bounced off the cushioned seatback and then came forward, and while she was disoriented, Damon took this opportunity to pin her hands, once again, beneath his knees. Fresh fires of agony now rolled up each arm but only for a moment. For then Damon was squeezing her windpipe and Shawna was now, once again, aghast at just how strong this 14-year-old boy seemed to be. She struggled as best she could but soon the world was graying and her lungs were burning. Everything around her was growing black and Shawna began to wonder if she would ever again see her son. Just as she thought she might lose consciousness, Damon now spoke to her again, this latest warning further illustrating just how dire her predicament truly was.

“Those niggas up there” Damon said and, even without making any gesture as to whom he was referring, Shawna knew he could only mean the other adults on the bus.

“They ain’t gonna help you. That being said, the sound of you screaming, it’s annoying, so don’t do it. That is, unless, you feel like getting another beatin’ ten times worse than the one you already got.”

Shawna still couldn’t speak but her mind had not been deprived of oxygen for so long that she didn’t know what to do. The pretty Catholic mom now nodded her head to indicate she understood and, only then, did Damon’s hands relax their grip on her throat. A moment later, she was filling her burning lungs with gulp after gulp of the sweetest, most delectable air she had ever known but, while she did so, Shawna also became dimly aware that Damon’s hands had come to lightly rest against her shoulders.

“Now then let’s see what we got here.”

The world, the light and all of existence was still coming back into focus for Shawna as her brain regained its oxygen but, with each passing second, the pretty Catholic mom’s awareness of just what was being done to her became that much more undeniable.

“Gotta teach a white mom that she ain’t supposed to say nothing when a black boy does her the honor of helpin’ her live her one true purpose.”

With the back of her jumpsuit fully unzipped Damon had little trouble sliding the thin polyester off of Shawna’s shoulders and, now, the pretty Catholic mom had enough awareness to know that the top half of her jumpsuit was being slowly pulled down. With her eyes just now starting to flutter open after she had been deprived of oxygen for so long, Shawna felt her face twist itself into a mask of both horror and panic. The realization of just what was happening dawned on the prudish white soccer mom as the sleeves and shoulders of her jumpsuit made their way down her arms and the front of the garment went south along with it.

“NO! PLEASE!”

Shawna’s mind now came screaming back into full alertness as the pretty Catholic mom once again tried to pull her hands free from under Damon’s knees. With each new tug and twist though another piercing bolt of pain shot up Shawna’s arms and these were woeful reminders of just what had happened the last time she had resisted. In the end, Shawna could do nothing but beg as the front of her favorite outfit now quickly sank down. In a panic, her eyes started to dart around but what she saw there only scared her more. Everywhere she looked, a plethora of black boys stood or kneeled and, to her horror, the pretty Catholic mom could see that each one of them was still recording a video of her on his phone. She was being filmed from almost every possible angle. The greatest humiliation any woman could ever possibly suffer was now happening to her and being preserved for anyone to watch at any time they chose.

“PLEASE!”

Shawna’s latest scream came just as she turned her panicked face back to Damon. Her gorgeous green eyes bulged with terror and her ruby red lips were frozen and slightly parted. She still couldn’t believe what was happening; it was all just too unreal and occurring so fast. Then Damon was pulling on the light black fabric that had been over her shoulders only a moment before; freeing it from where it now lay pinned between her elbows and the back of the seat. The front of Shawna’s jumpsuit now dipped even further, sinking down far enough to show off the swell of her breasts.

Before she had time to cry out again, the fabric that had been on her shoulders only a moment before was sliding down by her wrists and, while the the black nylon fabric that covered her chest was supported for a moment on the swell of her 38D size breasts, Damon’s hands were now free. The material that had been over her shoulders now rested on the bus seat. It was still looped around her pinned wrists but still, Shawna could do nothing but watch in helpless terror, as the smug and smirking black kid freed the thin black material from where it clung to her bra and then pulled her jumpsuit down. It fell, down into her lap and, for the first time, Shawna was sitting there, completely topless, except for her favorite bra. It was a modest but pretty item known as the Chantelle Intimates ‘Rive Gauche’ Bra and it was the little bow on its front, as well as the way it fully covered her breasts, a fact for which she was now immensely grateful, that made it her favorite.

“OH ... OH MY G-GOD!”

Shawna’s mind now spun and wobbled as she struggled with the reality that she was sitting on a moving school bus, encircled by 14-year-old black boys who were complete strangers to her and that one of them had almost completely stripped her to the waist. The air on her newly bare skin now felt cold and damp and, as if her fear didn’t give her

reason enough, this new draft made what was happening to her feel even more real. Her skin popped out in gooseflesh while, still straddling her

thighs, Damon was lifting his right knee. The 14-year-old black boy freed her left hand from where it had been pinned but not before he grabbed Shawna by her wrist. He then gave it a violent shake and, while that delicate hand banged painfully against the bus’s steel wall several times, the jumpsuit’s fabric slid over her hand and off. Damon now didn’t let her wrist go but, instead, squeezed it as painfully as he could. This was a warning that Shawna understood; she was not to try anything stupid while either hand wasn’t pinned under his knee. The 14-year-old black boy then repeated this same process on the other side, grabbing a hold of Shawna’s right wrist at the same time he lifted his knee. This wrist also received a painful squeeze while he maneuvered the trapped fabric around it. The top half of her Vince Camuto Tie Split Sleeve jumpsuit was now completely off her body, its material lying limply in her lap in the small space between them. It must all be a dream, Shawna now thought, for the only alternative was that she was here, out in public and topless except for her bra, while surrounded by a couple dozen strangers all of whom were not just black and male but who were also so young as to still be in junior high school.

“Please” the pretty Catholic mom now said again, “I ... I’m sorry.”

“Best thing you can do right now is cooperate. Even though you a 38-year-old woman, best thing you can do is just accept that you so weak that a 14-year-old black boy you ain’t never met before gonna do whatever he wants to you”.

Damon’s voice was calm and so devoid of emotion that it made Shawna think there wasn’t anything of which this evil little black boy wasn’t capable. His hands now pinned her wrists back under his knees and then rose up, away from his sides, until they cupped Shawna’s breasts through her bra. An expression of ecstatic pleasure now crossed the black boy’s face and he gave out a low soft moan as his own eyes closed and his lips parted.

“Oh god fuck me,” Damon now moaned in awe “your tits feel so good Mrs. McDonnell.”

Damon’s two filthy hands now gave her breasts a slow and gentle squeeze while Shawna turned her face away; she was so repulsed by this horrible violation that she was sure she would vomit at any moment. Damon’s hands then dropped even lower, his fingertips pressing into her skin just below the base of her bra. They then slid themselves upwards pushing the underwire of Shawna’s bra in front of them.

“OH GOD DAMON! NO! PLEASE DON’T!”

The pretty Catholic mom’s scream was a plea for mercy like none she had ever made before, but it fell on deaf ears. Her hands were once again pinned beneath Damon’s knees and, no matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t get them free.

“I warned you” Damon said.

In a sensation too terrifying to believe Shawna now turned her head to watch. She couldn’t look away in the same way that a motorist feels compelled to slow down and stare at the most gruesome of traffic accidents. First there came the sensation of the base of her bra lifting away from her skin. Then, and even worse, came the dreadful feeling of Damon’s repulsive fingers as they slid up the two large and quivering mounds that were the 38-year-old soccer mom’s breasts. Damon pushed upward until his entire hands were under Shawna’s bra and once its underwire rested on top of his wrists he began a leisurely and methodical squeezing, his eyes staring up at hers, while Shawna stared down at her breasts.

Oh my god! Oh my fucking god! This kid ... this boy ... oh my fucking god, he’s only 14. He’s only 14 and ... and ... and he’s actually got his hands right on my breasts. His skin ... his black ... oh god his filthy black skin it’s actually touching my breasts. I ... This ... I can’t believe this is happening! This can’t be happening! There ... There’s no way a ... a black boy ... a black boy who is still in junior high school ... one I’ve never met before and ... can he really have ... have attacked me? Torn my jumper and stripped me to the waist. Can ... no one other than Jonathan ... no one other than my husband ... and ... my doctor. No one’s ever touched me there before. This really can’t be happening, can it? Can a 14-year-old black boy ... a child ... a child who is still in junior high school really ... really be touching my breasts. Groping ... groping me in public while ... while a bunch of other boys just sit and watch ... and record ... puh-preserve a permanent copy of the whole thing ... the whole vile and sordid act right ... right on their phones?

As these thoughts now raced through Shawna’s mind so did the sensation of Damon’s

hands now sliding back over her breasts. This time they moved in the opposite direction

retreating from under her bra. As awful as this experience had been, Shawna thought, at least she could now breathe a sigh of relief that it was finally over. After all, what else could possibly happen to her? The question had no sooner run through Shawna’s mind then then pretty Catholic mom received her horrifying answer as Damon now reached for her bra straps. Two fingers from each of those dirty black hands now started sliding underneath those thin white straps just where the soft nylon fabric curled around Shawna’s elegant shoulders. They then lifted those straps, upwards and outwards before dropping them so that they hung loosely against her arms. While Shawna still tried to comprehend just what was happening to her, the pretty Catholic mom also redoubled her efforts to try and free her hands. It just couldn’t be true.

There was no way that she was suffering through the indignity of having her bra taken off by filthy little black boy who was still in junior high school. There was no way that she was going to just sit there and allow her arms to be pinned down; all while a bunch of disgusting little nigger boys all got to see her second most private area as it was exposed for their greedy eyes and their eager camera lenses to drink in and record forever and ever. But it did happen and, as Shawna now watched helplessly; those same dirty black fingers, the ones that had just pulled the straps of her bra off her shoulders now burrowed their way into the top of each of its two cups.

Down and over the gorgeous fleshy swells that were Shawna’s breasts Damon’s fingers now slid and, while the succulent, feminine meat slightly compacted in order to accommodate his fingers, it was the revolting sensation of them slithering down towards her nipples that finally forced the pretty Catholic mom to accept that what was actually happening. By then, though, it was too late and, even if it hadn’t been, there wasn’t anything she could do about it anyway. Her hands were still firmly pinned beneath Damon’s knees and now the sensation of cool air on her skin; skin that up until a moment ago had been previously covered screamed into her brain. The cups of her bra were now slowly pulled forward, and Shawna could only watch in such horror that the struggle to free her hands had all but been forgotten, as the tops of the bra were pulled out, revealing an ever increasing amount of the conservative soccer mom’s huge and sumptuous breasts.