Chapter 3

"We're going to play a game," Gary said, his voice light and mocking. He had shoved his hands into his pockets, and was staring off into space. "You can win it; it will have rules and an object. If you do win, we will give you all copies of the video tape and pictures. If you lose..."

Stacy sat in stunned silence. The whole world - her world - had changed dramatically in the last half hour. Nothing was the same. That morning, she had woken up an intelligent, free young woman. No clouds on the horizon; nothing to foreshadow the impending danger. It had been almost a week since she had been forced to have sex with Neil, and she was finally beginning to feel clean again. She had passed all of the recent tests at school, and was still a part of the most influential, exclusive group of students at Greenwood. Moreover, Neil seemed to have kept his mouth shut, both about her cheating on the English test and the disgusting exercise she had been forced into at his apartment, and he was now safely relegated back to the periphery of her privileged existence. Stacy had even shelved her plans for getting him thrashed by one of her friends on the football team. The whole incident was receding into the past, and she was unaffected. Still one of the best and the brightest; one of the winners.

Then came the note in her locker. This note was handwritten, not in block letters like the previous one, as if the need for disguise no longer existed. It simply ordered her to show up at Neil's apartment at 1:00 PM the next day: Saturday, exactly a week after her last visit. Her stomach had gone cold and her hand trembled as she read the note. Was he going for a repeat performance? If he was, that little bastard...

Just then, Ashley and some friends happened by her locker, and she quickly stuffed the note into her jacket pocket. It was not the sort of thing she wanted her friends to know about; particularly Ashley... She greeted them with a smile.

"The game will last for the rest of the school year." Gary continued speaking. "If you win before the last day of classes, July 2, we will return all of the material to you, and never bother you again."

Stacy heard Gary's voice speaking the words, but it was as if he was speaking at her from a long distance away. She understood him, but didn't feel any connection with what he was saying. Was he even speaking to her? She knew that what he was saying was important, but she was unable to focus on his voice. Her mind continued to drift...

She had arrived that Saturday afternoon prepared for the worst, but what had happened turned out to be much more terrible than what she had expected; than she could have expected.

Neil wasn't alone when she had arrived. Gary, his creepy friend, was there with him, as was Sharon, Gary's cow of a girlfriend. Gary had just looked at her as she entered Neil's bedroom, his eyes huge and expressionless through the thick, magnifying lens of his glasses. He was sitting on the couch beside Sharon, who had giggled obnoxiously when Stacy had entered the room, and flicked ashes from her cigarette onto the floor. The ashes sunk into the thick shag carpet and were lost from sight. The room seemed a lot darker than Stacy remembered it.

"What's going on? Why are they here?" Stacy turned as if to leave, but Neil, behind her, had already closed the door. "What are you doing?" Stacy was beginning to panic. Neil didn't answer; he just smirked at her as he stood in front of the door.

"We have something to show you," came a voice from behind her. It was Gary. "I think you'll find it interesting." He stood up and pointed to the space on the couch beside his chubby girlfriend. "Have a seat," he invited.

"I don't think so," Stacy answered angrily, pulling herself together a bit. She didn't have to take this. "I'll stand, if you don't mind." Sarcasm.

Gary just smiled at her and repeated his gesture. "I think it would be better if you sat for this," he told her, his voice mild. "Besides, the couch has the best view of the TV." Stacy noticed for the first time a TV and video machine set up opposite the couch; they hadn't been there last week. "We wouldn't want you to miss anything," Gary continued. Stacy giggled again.

Overcome by a vague feeling of dread, Stacy was forced to fight down an impulse to flee; not that it would have done any good with Neil standing in front of the door. Sharon sat up and crushed out her half finished cigarette in the ashtray. "C'mon, babe," she called, patting the seat beside her. "I don't bite."

Stacy had looked around at the three of them - Neil smirking by the door, Sharon leaning back on the couch with her arms stretched out, and Gary looking at her with his queer, empty eyes - and then began walking slowly towards the couch. She realized that she had no choice in the matter, and there was no use in protesting further. A small part of her mind began to understand what might be on the tape, and started wailing uselessly inside her head, but she was able to repress this as she sat back on the couch. 'Don't panic' she told herself.

Sharon immediately slipped her pudgy arm around Stacy's shoulder and squeezed. "That's more like it," she laughed. "Just relax and enjoy the show. You're among friends." Neil chuckled as he moved away from the door. Stacy tensed - she hated this bitch - but did not pull away. Neil flipped off the lights as Gary moved forward to turn on the TV and start the video.

"If you lose," Gary continued, "well... I can't really say; we haven't thought that far ahead. I must say, though, I really don't expect you to lose; I have every confidence that you will meet the conditions for winning."

Somehow, the small part of Stacy's mind which was still listening to his voice was not much comforted by this expression of confidence. Her mind continued to drift...

The tape! That awful tape... They had made her watch the entire thing through from beginning to end, even though she had tried to jump up out of the couch before the first thirty seconds were up. Sharon had kept her seated, her arm surprisingly strong. Stacy had even tried to keep her eyes shut, but was unable to tear her gaze away from the scene which played itself out obscenely on the TV screen in front of her.

The sound started first, while the screen remained blank. "Please," came the voice over the TV speaker - HER VOICE! "Please let me fuck you. I want to fuck you." The picture faded up, with her - Stacy - clearly visible in the centre of the room, looking over at some unidentifiable person on the bed. "Please," she repeated. "Please let me fuck you. I want to... I really do. I'm sorry I was mean to you before. Please let me fuck you?"

It was at this point that Stacy tried to jump up off the couch, but Sharon had been expecting it, and her encircling arm held the panicking girl down. Gary moved over as if to help his girlfriend, but stopped as he saw that no help was needed: Stacy went limp and relaxed back into the couch, her eyes wide as she stared at the TV screen.

She was watching herself slowly strip off her own clothes. First the tee-shirt... then the bra (Stacy began to cry on the couch as her TV image fondled and rubbed its breasts; her hand fluttered up to her face, as if to shield her eyes, but it dropped back down to her lap when Gary frowned at her)... then the pants. Finally, she was naked on the screen.

"Please." The girl on the screen (Stacy could no longer believe it was herself saying and doing those things; she started thinking of her image on the screen as someone else) seemed to be almost panting in lust. "Please fuck me. In need it so bad. Please fuck me." The naked girl ran her hands over her erect nipples. "Please... I want it now..."

"Come here, bitch!" The figure on the bed, only visible in the corner of the picture, spoke (Stacy knew it was Neil, but her mind refused to put a name to him - surely what was happening on the screen had nothing to do with her). The naked girl responded quickly; breasts bobbing, she ran over and kneeled at the side of the bed. After remaining in this position for a few moments, the girl reached for the man's crotch and fumbled with the zipper. "Oh yes," she breathed. "Please let me have your cock."

The viewpoint shifted suddenly, to a shot taken above and behind the man lying on the bed. (A second camera, Stacy realized; there had been two cameras.) From the new point of view, the girl's actions between the man's legs could be seen clearly. First, she handled the cock with her fingers; then she kissed it, long slow kisses with lots of tongue; finally she enveloped it completely within her mouth. The girl's head bobbed up and down and she made loud slobbering sounds as she worked on the cock, sucking and licking. The man reached down in front of her and began to play with her nipples, which were plainly very hard. Finally, he leaned back and pushed her away. She quickly pulled his jeans off and, after he lay back on the bed, climbed on top of him, straddling his naked thighs.

The camera switched back to original point of view, as the girl began to play with herself while kneeling on the bed. It zoomed in and panned slowly down her body, from her slack, lust-glazed face, down across her panting chest and, finally, down to her pussy, where her fingers worked frantically. She was visibly wet. Then it slowly pulled back, revealing her entire body, just as she leaned forward and impaled herself on the man's stiff cock. Slowly, she moved her hips down until the cock was stuffed fully into her pussy. Then, moaning slightly, she began to grind her hips up and down, fucking herself silly as the man played with her bobbing breasts.

Once more, the camera zoomed in, and played down her sweaty body, perfectly capturing each detail on video-tape. The girl's excitement began to increase as her moans became cries and then threatened to become screams. The camera pulled back just as she hit the crest of her orgasm, and held the shot as the man pulled the girl down to his chest and climaxed himself. The picture slowly faded on this shot, with the girl collapsed sweatily on top of the man, panting and gasping for breath.