Chapter 5: Fourteen Years Old

Maryon approached initiation time next year with mixed feelings. She knew, vaguely, that she would be humiliated and degraded upon her entrance to the 'underground' 'Bare-Stud-Cat' society but she was at the mental and physical stage where she just didn't care.

Jim Harris had never shown up again, giving the quarrel with her mother as the excuse, though Lois, despairingly, put herself down and pleaded with him to come back and give her another chance. Since then Lois had taken to going out at least four nights a week to the neighborhood bars, deeming Maryon old enough not to need a babysitter. Karen seemed more and more to be engaged in mysterious, lonely projects of her own so, when Sylvia Matherly, condescending to her fourteen years from her sixteen, took her aside one day at break and asked her if she wanted to join the clandestine club, she shrugged and said yes.

The 'Bare-Stud-Cats, ' it was rumored in wondering whispers, were about twenty of the most rebellious of the Wingering Experimental School for Boys, with perhaps a dozen of the more daring of the otherwise straightlaced St. Joan's older girls as a kind of unladies' auxiliary. Disclosure of what went on at their highly unauthorized random-selected and timed 'come-togethers' was peculiarly and painfully punished, it was said. Whatever the reason, none but the members knew how and where they spent their time, and it was considered a dubious honor to be asked to join.

Maryon had received her instructions on a read-and-eat section of (unused!) toilet-paper. She was to come alone, at seven of a Friday evening, to the small gym of the Wingering school, telling no one of her impending visit. She was to wear-- the instructions precisely spelled it out-gym costume under a raincoat, no bra, no panties, rubber-soled boots.

With a quick, sure look behind and around her to see she'd not been followed and that there were none to observe her illicit entry in the place, Maryon carefully closed the gate behind her and walked swiftly and noiselessly in her boots to the gym door. The tiny foyer was dark, someone had removed the bulb. But as she stood there in the blackness she heard someone move, someone who knew where she was standing, oriented to her by her silhouette as she'd come through the door. With no word of explanation or introduction, a pair of hands touched her body, then ran up to her face. Something was placed over it and she almost panicked until she realized that some kind of mask, with no eye-holes, but curved and fitted to leave her nose and lips free, was being adjusted with straps that went over her head and beneath her ears. As soon as it was in place, she heard a light click on, a last tug was given to the straps, then hands ran lightly over her body, unbelting and unbuttoning the white trench coat she wore and sliding it from her unprotesting shoulders before patting her to check, presumably, that she'd perfectly obeyed the orders she'd been given.

She knew what they... he... she... ? could see, her blonde hair cut short so that golden curls hugged her cheeks, framing her clear, clean, creamy complexion, slightly turned-up nose, and lips that insisted on remaining over-full and childish despite her experimentation with lipsticks... a firm, rounded chin and a rather long, slim neck that was now circled by the polo-neck of her white, cotton-and-wool, long-sleeved rib-wristed, tight- fitting gym sweater. Hugging her every contour, stretched like a second skin over her firm, high-held, berry-tipped grapefruit of breasts, the single garment swept down along her flanks, showing the subtle indentations and rises of her ribs, before being cut off from view just above the hollow of her navel and the lean thrusts of her hips by the elastic-topped brief blue synthetic- silk of her shorts that, with brown piping at sides down to the three-inch slits there, nestled high-legged into her crotch and smoothed themselves over her out-curved cheeks as unwrinkled and conforming to their swelling pressure as the fabric sheathing the globe of a hot-air balloon.

But, effectively blinded herself, she could see nothing, not even the hint of light beyond the mask, and so let herself be led forward, not without some inner apprehension which she did her best to conceal from whatever audience was around her. From memory of a couple of previous visits she knew she was being led, by a hot hand at her elbow, into the gym proper, and as she carefully negotiated the short flight of steps which went down to the planked wooden floor, she recalled the set-up.

Directly across from her as she entered the low door, some thirty feet or so, was a wall banked by wall-bars. Against the walls at left and right would be, respectively, a variable height wooden box-horse and a four-legged, leather-cylindered horse with a pair of vaulting handles, and a set of parallel bars and a pile of rubber mats. Four pairs of ropes would be hanging down from the beamed ceiling, and across the width of the gym, halfway down its length to her left, would be the bar, perhaps lowered, perhaps hauled up out of the way. Against the walls immediately to left and right of the entrance door were stacks of low benches, not much used for exercise, but forming a convenient set of bleachers for whoever was not performing on the apparatus. As she came into the small, lofty hall she felt the presence of people in those bleachers... a short, nervous laugh here, a couple of words in a subdued tone there... an air of inhabitance everywhere. A boy's voice at her ear told her to obey exactly whatever order she received, told her to turn about to face her peers, told her she stood in the exact center of the gym, told her to answer truthfully.

Maryon, her pulse beating rapidly, nodded her head to show she understood, and stood patiently replying to the catechism put to her... her age... her statistics (five-one, ninety-five, thirty-four, twenty-two, thirty-one)... the state of her virginity (no questions asked as to its loss) her general knowledge of the Bare-Stud-Cats purpose...

Then began the ordeal of initiation. First she was asked to show them the soles of her boots, which she did. The ridged rubber soles belonged to the only boots she possessed, shiny black fur-lined leather that fitted snugly to just below her knees without benefit of zipper, the tops turned back down a couple of inches to disclose a thick band of fluffy white. Her choice appeared satisfactory and the lone mysterious voice, also a boy's, told her to climb the ropes that would be put into her hand. Running the two lengths over and around one foot and clamping down with the other, Maryon pulled herself up until she was told to stop, judging she was a couple of body-heights from the floor. Here she was told to reverse herself and, feeling odd in her blindness and somewhat disoriented, she released her feet from the ropes and, taking a firm grip with her hands, swung her body up and over until she hung head downward, her booted feet once again wrapped around separately by the ropes. A command ordered her to slowly descend and, the blood rushing to her head, she slid down until told to stop again. Without warning she felt hands on her body and someone inserted his fingers into her shorts, gripped the edge of her sweater, and pulled it down so that her breasts swung free, nakedly hanging out from her as she hung there. The sweater was deftly rolled until it formed a tight band under her arms and then the hands moved caressingly up her belly to her shorts and under them, so that she quivered to the touch of fingers on her cunt under the tight silk.

Next the voice told her to release her feet and swing over backwards, so that now she hung by her twisted arms, facing her audience, and the same pair of hands rolled down the top of her shorts, pulling up into her crotch so that she knew she revealed the lower swell of her belly, the valleys between abdomen and thighs, and her golden cluster of curls, with her quim starkly outlined by the stretched silk. Behind her the inquisitive hands continued between the cheeks of her ass which, in any case, hung barely out above the band of blue silk. Meanwhile knotted loops must have been made in a pair of other ropes, for the hands bent her legs at the knee, one at a time, and inserted them into the loops so that she hung face down and spread-eagled. Her hair was unceremoniously gripped and her chin jerked up, and she was set to swinging, at first gently, then in longer arcs, swooping toward her inquisitors with her pendant breasts dropping pear-shaped down from her, her bare balls of butt thrust up into the air as she jack-knifed her body to perpetuate its diving through the air. She heard footsteps about her and now many hands let her swinging, unprotected body play under and over them, their touch so rough sometimes that she was forced to lift herself by her already straining arms in order not to have her titties bang painfully into some human obstruction. As she writhed and twisted for them, the taut muscles of her thighs worked on her so that her cunt felt open, and each new swing cut the blue silk more deeply into her, so that she knew she spanned it with her young and liquid lips.

After a while they tired of this amusement and, releasing her feet, let her gratefully stand up. Solicitous hands pulled down her tight white sweater over her heaving breasts, but then continued on down to tug at the sliver of shorts until they slid down her legs, where she was told to step out of them. She could feel the lower edge of the sweater band about her lower belly and just above the inward curves of her ass as they swept sweetly into her thighs, and shivered as she faced them, naked from knee to navel, pretty well. She was next led over to the wall-bars and reached behind her to the highest bar above her head. Her legs were parted and the heels of her boots hooked over the bottom bar, then she was told to 'walk' up the wall as far as she could. As her legs bent at the knees and, inch by inch, she moved her feet alternately up the poles, her body was thrust forward in a great arc, suspended by her arms in their tight covering of sweater, her breasts ovalled and flattened by the pulling strain, and her gold- fuzzed pussy pushed out to its greatest prominence. When her knees were bent at right-angles and she could climb no more, her ankles were seized and pulled still further apart, and then, as she hung defenseless, fingers began to rove her lower body, tickling her thighs, plucking at her labia, pulling them open so that pairs of fingers could be slid into her. She throbbed and quivered as biting kisses were delivered onto her exposed parts, and tongues and teeth were employed to titillate her clitoris. Her vagina was full of oozing moisture and, as someone's small fist was pistoned into her, wriggling its knuckles for purchase so that she silently struggled against the raking pain, the sounds of suction echoed in the place above the heavy breathing all about. With a great deal of expertise, they worked on her until she was just about ready to explode with desire, then desisted and let her stew before starting again.