Chapter 5: He ... he’s not going to take it all. Is ... is he?

The pretty Catholic mom was now almost completely nude; at least from the front. Only her panties were left to protect her modesty as Damon now continued to pull the loose fabric of her jumpsuit towards him revealing the middle of her thighs. The area on the front of her body that ran from her shoulders, past her stomach and pelvis, and halfway down her thighs was exposed; available for anyone to see, and everyone did see and it was not just every boy but every camera too.

“Please” Shawna moaned while Damon simply ignored her.

The 14-year-old black boy now pressed his hand against Shawna’s newly exposed lower belly, just above her panties and, a moment later, one of his dirty black fingers pushed down on the elastic band that ran along its top. This it did until the elastic would stretch no more and, instead, could only pop upwards, allowing Damon’s finger, for the second time to slide inside Shawna’s panties. That finger then curled around the panties’

top edge and pulled them outwards until Shawna was sure the fabric would tear. It did give Shawna’s

son and a lucky few of the other boys a nice, top-down view of the soft and dark-brown hair that no man, save Shawna’s husband had ever been able to see.

“OHHHH GUH-GAHDDD NOOOOOOO!!!!”

It was what she had wanted to scream but Shawna now discovered, rather painfully, that Damon had been expecting this. His fist struck her hard in the throat although, mercifully, his punch here was not as forceful as the pounding he had given both her ribs and arms. What should have been an ear-splitting shriek instead came out as only a spluttering gurgle. The world went gray for a moment and then dazzled with brilliant yellow spots as Shawna found herself suddenly fighting just to breathe. In the confusion caused by her pain and lack of oxygen, the pretty Catholic mom was only dimly aware of Damon, although she did feel his hand as it let go of her panties and instead slipped around behind her.

His right hand moved around her left side and his stubby black thumb wedged itself inside her panties just behind her hip. There it stayed while and, as the world slowly came back into focus, Shawna felt the 14-year-old black boy once again climb on top of her legs. This time, though, his legs didn’t straddle hers but, instead, his knees pressed down on her thighs and, to her horror, Shawna realized he was trying to force her legs apart. This, the pretty Catholic mom knew, she couldn’t allow. Shawna now reacted immediately and instinctively. She squeezed her thighs together as tightly as she could and, for this action, she was duly rewarded.

A new flurry of tremendous punches, each one aimed at the tightly clenched muscles of her inner thighs, now mercilessly rained down. It was as if she were being repeatedly struck by a small but impossibly hard rock and Damon, to Shawna’s great dismay, never seemed to tire. His left hand continued to squeeze her throat, cutting off her air supply, while his right pulverized her defenseless leg muscles into submission. There was no need for her to fight for oxygen anymore; for she wasn’t going to get it. Her green eyes fluttered closed while the world behind them went from white to gray and then threatened to go black. Now, even though the world beyond her eyelids was fading away, the pretty Catholic mom still felt every sensation.

Shawna now felt it as her legs began to quiver. They then began to shudder and then, only a moment or two before she lost consciousness altogether, Shawna felt humiliated as the repulsive 14-year-old black boy defeated her yet again. Trembling and shaking, Shawna’s legs were slowly starting to spread apart. One moment Damon was kneeling on top of her while her legs trembled and then there was a gap. It was on this gap that Damon now put all his weight forcing her legs to spread wider. It was at first only an inch but then it was two and it kept growing larger. From behind the blackness of her tightly shut eyes Shawna felt her legs as they kept spreading wider, until the material of her pantsuit was stretched taut from her thighs to her knees.

“What the fuck? Oh.”

For a moment Damon seemed confused about why the 38-year-old conservative Catholic mom wasn’t spreading her legs any wider. Then he looked down and saw the pulled tight black polyester that pushed against his foot and lower leg. Sliding himself forward until his knees once again pressed into the outside of Shawna’s hips; Damon now turned to Jason and gave him an order.

“Dude take your mom’s pants the rest of the way off.”

Satisfied that his latest victory over his captive was now achieved, Damon relaxed his grip on Shawna’s delicate throat.

“No ... Damon ... please”, Shawna moaned but, as usual, her wishes were simply ignored.

“Jumpsuit” said Jason.

“What?” said Damon sounding visibly annoyed.

“It ... it’s called a jumpsuit. You said pants but ... actually ... it ... it’s ... she’s wearing a jumpsuit.”

To Shawna, Jason sounded nervous but not nearly as scared as she would have thought. For her part, the pretty Catholic mom had never been so terrified and she didn’t know what to make her son’s relative calm. Was it a good thing that Jason, under the circumstances, seemed to still be so composed?

“Man, I don’t care if it’s a fucking clown costume, just take the fucking thing offa her.”

“I uh ... yeah uh ... o.k. But ... the uh ... the back of it ... you know ... of her jumpsuit ... it’s still all uh ... pinned up behind her. I ... I ... well, I don’t know how I’m going to get that down”

“Man, god damn” muttered Damon. Reaching forward, the 14-year-old black boy now once again grabbed onto Shawna’s ears and pulled and, to this, she didn’t resist. As Damon leaned back and pulled on those delicate appendages, Shawna leaned herself forward with a moan of self-pity and pain. Her supple and feminine back pulled away from the bus seat and this allowed the material of her jumpsuit to slide down; it then bunched itself up against the small of her back. Damon then slid off her lap and, before she could react, he punched her once, as hard as he could, directly in the stomach. Maybe it was a distraction or maybe it was a warning; whatever it was, with his hand off her throat, Shawna was free to cry out in pain. This the pretty Catholic mom now did; it was a long drawn out and high-pitched wail of anguish; a scream of pain that was emotional as much as it was physical and one that reverberated around the inside of the bus ringing in everyone’s ears.

While Shawna screamed, Damon’s moved her knees to her right and then stepped into the newly created space that now existed between her battered left leg and the cold hard steel of the bus’s interior wall. The 14-year-old black boy then yanked her forward as far as she would go. Now, Shawna’s knees were pressed into the seat in front of her. Her naked upper body leaned back at a 45-degree angle while only her shoulders pressed against the seat. Her right arm now also came free as Jason joined Damon in climbing off the seat and yet Shawna still didn’t move it for the pretty Catholic mom was now convinced that, if she did, her other wrist would be broken too.

“Please, you don’t have to do this.” Shawna now sniveled.

The pretty Catholic mom had so recently been both defiant and outraged; now Shawna’s green eyes could now only watch helplessly as the two boys, one on either side of her, stood in front of her. The serious expressions on their faces now terrified her even more.

“Please ... kuh-come on boys, please. Let’s ... let’s end this now. I ... I ... I promise. I ... I’ve learned my lesson.”

Why she groveled, Shawna wasn’t quite sure, for it was obvious that her most impassioned pleas for mercy had no effect on Damon at all.

“Here, I was just going to pull the front of your panties out.”

Damon now spoke as if he hadn’t even heard her.

“Let your son stick his hand down there and touch you on your pussy. But instead, you gotta be such a dumb bitch, make me so angry, now I gots ta punish you more.”

“God” said Shawna and whether this was a plea for help from her Lord and savior or just an expression of disbelief not even the pretty Catholic mom was sure. Shawna’s gorgeous face, the one that had won every beauty pageant she had ever entered, now contorted itself into an ever-greater expression of agonized fear. She looked down at Damon and her son, her eyes moving between them, while her brilliant mind desperately raced, trying to think of how to escape. She was paralyzed with the indecision of just how to prevent her worst nightmare from coming true while not sustaining any more broken bones and Damon took advantage of this. The 14-year-old black boy now let her legs go and his left hand reached across her, grabbing ahold of Shawna’s right hip. Again, he seemed to expend almost no effort as he now rolled her body towards him; her right leg came off the seat just high enough that the jumpsuit’s material was no longer pinned.

“There, now she ain’t lying on that side of her whadda ya fuckin’ call it ... jumpsuit. Get it and pull it towards you.”

Jason did as he was told and Shawna felt the material of her Vince Camuto Tie Split Sleeve jumpsuit slide down over the back of her right thigh. It now bunched up behind her knee; the remnants of what had once been her favorite summer outfit dangling loosely in the footwell beneath her. Shawna’s mind now screamed that she should lash out; that she should attack. That she couldn’t just allow this to happen. Her mind ordered her to do this and, while it did, a vision of this attack now congealed in her imagination. Her fist would bounce off Damon’s face and he would have no reaction at all. Instead, he would just look at her with a knowing glance, and both the 38-year-old white suburban soccer mom and the 14-year-old black boy would understand that soon Shawna’s other wrist would also be broken. There would be other punishments too, of course, and, as she now visualized the futility of fighting back against a seemingly invulnerable psychopathic monster, Damon let go of her hip. Shawna’s body lay flat again but only for a moment. For Damon then lifted her left side and now rolled her body to the right. Like the other side before it, the left side of Shawna’s once pretty outfit now was pulled down and, once again, it was her own 14 year old son that was doing it. Now all that remained was a small bit of the torn up fabric that had yet to be pulled off the top of her knees.

“There you go,” said Damon, “now take your mom’s jumpsuit the rest of the way off.”

Shawna did nothing; just watched in despair as her own son now pulled the material of her jumpsuit down over her knees. A moment later it pooled around her ankles and Jason was lifting first her right foot and then her left foot; maneuvering the loose-fitting garment over each shoe while he finished taking it off. Once he had done so; Shawna’s own son tossed the crumpled black outfit into the bus aisle. It hit one of the boys who was standing there right in the face before landing on his partially outstretched arms. This boy, dirty and in torn clothes, with nappy hair and facial features so exaggerated he looked like a racist caricature with huge lips, a flat nose, brilliant white teeth set wide apart and wide staring eyes, now raised the mass of mangled black polyester above his head while those huge grinning teeth showed his delight at this new and unexpected trophy. Meanwhile Shawna could only watch, so horrified she was speechless and her attention was now only torn away when the sensation of fingertips lightly brushing at her hips came to her again. The pretty Catholic mom’s green eyes immediately snapped away from the boy in the aisle and instead focused on Jason. Her son’s hovered over her thighs while the fingers of his two hands curled around the elastic that bordered the top of her panties.

“Do it” Damon now ordered. “Make your mom watch as her own son takes off her panties and shows everybody her pussy.”

At the sound of Damon’s words, the reality of her situation now became clearer in Shawna’s mind. Indeed, the implications of that awful command now conjured up a vision, one where her precious panties were crumpled down into a straight line. Her own son was pulling her panties down; down her thighs and towards her knees as Shawna could only look on in horror and watch as the triangle of thick and dark brown fur that lay between her legs was made visible to each and every boy.

“OH GOD PLEASE!” Shawna cried, “THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR!!!”

Her gaze now moved from her panties to Damon, her green eyes pleading like they never had before.

“H-haven’t you done enough? I mean, I ... I can’t even think of ... of what. I ... I’ll say anything you want. Please! You ... you want me to say that you’re the boss! That ... that a 14-year-old black boy is the boss of ... of a thuh-thirty eight year old woman ... a mom and ... and that she needs to follow his orders! Fine, I ... I’ll say it. I-I’ll say anything you want me to! Just please! Please! Please don’t make my son take off his own mother’s panties!”