Chapter 7

Ilsa looked at Melanie as if to say, you open the door.

When they walked in, they both held their hands up to shield themselves from a bright light shining directly at them. The rest of Ms. Crow's residence was pitch black, and they could see nothing except for a singular disc of brilliant white.

"Come in girls, and stand in the middle of the room," her voice rang out.

Ilsa took Melanie's hand the two girls did as they were told. What on earth was this? Ilsa thought.

They looked at each other, and in the direction of the voice. They could just make out, then, the outline of Marsha Crow's head, to the right.

"Let's see a nice, tender kiss between girlfriends," Marsha Crow said to them.

Melanie swallowed. She, too, wondered what the teacher had in store for them. Was she going to make them perform, or something?

"Well, what are you waiting for? You had no problems having brazen, all-out sex in front of me before, in broad daylight, did you? Now kiss each other."

Melanie looked at her lover and told her with a silent look to comply, that it was going to be all right. If making love in front of Ms. Crow was what they had to endure to keep their secret safe, then they could handle that. She slid her arms around Ilsa's waist and pulled her gently to her, and Ilsa parted her mouth. They kissed in the harsh light that dominated the otherwise darkened cottage.

Melanie thought she heard the rustle of clothing. She put it out of her mind. Ms. Crow, that sick tormentor, was going to play with herself while she watched them. Well, she thought darkly to herself, it wouldn't be the first time, from what Ilsa had told her. As their mouths entwined, Melanie could feel Ilsa tremble, and her heart ached for her love: Ilsa's kiss was hungry for comfort and reassurance, and she gave it to her with every slow move of her tongue. She moved her face to Ilsa's neck and whispered, "It's ok, baby..."

"Good," Ms. Crow's voice stabbed from the darkness. "Melanie, start feeling her bottom... get your hand under her skirt. Start making love to her, don't make me tell you how. You know how, and I know you do."

Melanie followed the instructions, and slid her hand under Ilsa's skirt, caressing her warm bottom, her hand sliding from one side to the other, the small triangle of cotton panty in between.

"I also know that Miss Peterson likes being watched," the teacher said with a sprinkling of cruelty in her voice.

They kissed like that in silence for a couple of more minutes until Ms. Crow's voice rang out again, from the outline of her head.

"Take off your clothes, Melanie."

The shapely girl looked in the direction of the voice, but knew there was no relief from this. She unbuttoned her blouse, slid out of it, and dropped it to the floor. Then she unclapsed her brassiere and did the same. Finally, she unzipped the skirt and let is slide to the floor and with a deep breath, slid her panties off as well.

She stood, one hand over her breasts, the other over her mound. Ilsa stood silently near her, and reached out, stroking Melanie's hair for support.

"Ilsa come over to the chair, and sit on the floor."

Ilsa obeyed, and with a quick glance at Melanie, walked to where it looked like her teacher was seated. Once there, almost out of the circumference of the small, brightly lit stage, she sat cross legged, feeling Ms. Crow's presence behind her.

Melanie was naked and alone in the center of the room, when a form stepped out of the shadows. Her heart sank when she saw, standing before her in her school uniform, Desiree Mills.

Desiree smiled at Melanie, her eyes dancing with cruel excitement. "Hello, Melanie," she spat.

Melanie looked into Desiree's eyes in disbelief and then dropped her gaze to the floor. What was she doing here?

"Ms. Crow and I have done some talking," Desiree said, reaching out and taking some of Melanie's long silky hair in her hand, letting it fall between them.

Melanie shuddered, embarassment and fear spreading through her like a debilitating poison. She was naked in front of the same girl who had beaten her up earlier in the day, and now it was clear that this cruel girl and her scheming teacher had made some sort of twisted pact. Yes, it all came clear to her in one swift, sickening realization: Desiree had gone to complain, as she said she would, and Ms. Crow had made a deal-I'll let you have some fun humiliating your hated schoolmates, and you keep the whole situation quiet.

Desiree pointed to the floor. "Get on your hands and knees."

Melanie swallowed hard, and slowly sank to an all-fours position. What was going to happen, she could not fathom.

She was looking at Desiree's shoes when they suddenly stepped away. She heard some rustling noises, and a few seconds later felt someone behind her. She turned her head and saw Desiree, now only in a blouse, on her knees, poised behind her. She was wearing something... what... what was that... ? In confused terror she thought she saw something protruding from a belt or harness of some kind that Desiree had on.

"Like this, Ma'am?" Desiree said, looking off into the darkness.

"Yes, you have it on right, dear," came the reply from Ms. Crow. Then the teacher added, "Melanie, Miss Mills here was telling me that you have had little contact with boys." She chuckled. "That's putting it mildly, I suppose. Anyway, I've loaned her something to help with that problem."

Just then, Melanie felt her head being pulled back by the hair. She winced, and her upper body came off the floor. She felt, briefly, Desiree's blouse on her bare back, and her hot breath in her ear.

"I told you I wasn't finished with you, baby girl," the athletic brunette hissed.

Then Melanie was shoved back down, her hair hanging over her face as her hands braced against the floor again.

"No..." she uttered weakly. But it was too feeble a request, too late. Desiree's strong hands were on her hips, and she felt blunt plastic against her butt cheeks. Desiree used her knee to kick Melanie's knees apart, and the naked girl gasped as the blunt point was pressed against her pussy opening.

"Before you were just a bitch," Desiree whispered. Then, she pushed with her hips and Melanie felt the fake penis enter her. "Now, you're my bitch!"

The pretty, helpless student moaned as the cock slid into her, filling her rapidly. She felt Desiree grip her hips harder, and the phallus was now pushing in and out of her.

"Ohdeargoddd..." she whimpered, so deeply stricken with humiliation that Ilsa was watching her being taken by Desiree that she felt she could have died. Her body quaked with each of Desiree's rapid, savage thrusts. Melanie couldn't bear the image that she knew Ilsa was watching-Desiree looking down into her nakedness, plundering it at will, the same way she had so easily overwhelmed her outside by the portables. But now, her cruelty was a torpedo strapped to her body, invading Melanie's body more deeply than Ilsa ever had ventured.