Chapter 2

That evening, as she and Estelle were studying in the library, SG leaned forward and whispered, "I want the chair."

Estelle's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding. That thing could rip you apart."

"I want it," SG insisted.

"When?"

"Now. Tonight."

Estelle was distraught, but how could she turn Sallie down after she had given her so much pleasure?

"Okay. But I think you're making a terrible mistake."

When they reached the attic, Estelle was more convinced than ever that this contraption would do serious damage. But she also was intensely curious to see how it worked.

SG stripped and sat down. Estelle snapped the manacles onto her wrists and ankles. In the big wooden chest, she had found a leather collar with an iron clip, and she buckled this around SG's neck and attached it to the metal ring on the back of the chair. Finally, she buckled a thick leather strap around SG's waist.

"Are you sure?" Estelle asked.

"I'm sure," said SG. "Do it."

Estelle knelt and released the spring mechanism. SG gasped as the dildo shot into her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. It hurts."

"I'll get you out of this goddam thing," Estelle said, reaching for SG's collar.

"No, don't," said SG. "Keep going. Crank it. Crank it as hard as you can."

This is crazy, thought Estelle. But she gave the crank a tentative turn. SG squirmed and trembled. "Keep going. Keep going."

Estelle turned the crank one full rotation. SG's body rose as far as her bonds would allow. Her head snapped back and her mouth opened. Bubbles formed on her lips.

Estelle was transfixed. As if someone else was controlling her, she turned the crank faster and faster. SG was wiggling on the steel rod like a fish on a spear. She made strange gurgling noises, and her eyes had rolled back so only the whites showed.

Ten rotations. Twenty. At 33, Estelle stopped, exhausted.

SG's head had fallen as far forward as her collar would allow. A string of spittle hung from her lips.

"Oh, my God," said Estelle. "Oh, my God, I've killed her."

She removed SG's collar and felt her throat. There was a pulse. It was weak, but her heart was beating.

She freed SG and let her fall into her arms. Then she gently laid her on the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Sallie," she said tearfully. "I'm so very sorry."

SG's eyes fluttered open, and her lips moved. Estelle put her ear next to SG's mouth.

"It was wonderful," SG whispered. "It was so fucking wonderful."

SG wanted to go back to the attic the next evening, but Estelle refused. It was too dangerous. Eventually, someone was going to see them go into the closet. Or hear SG's cries and moans. Besides, this was getting sick.

SG felt hurt and disappointed. But she couldn't make the machine work by herself.

Well, Estelle wasn't the only person who could provide her with sexual thrills. Even though it was a Wednesday, she sneaked over to the football field after classes. Practice was breaking up, and she saw Louie and several other men headed for the locker room. One of them spotted her and tapped Louie on the shoulder. He turned and looked at her. He was too far away for SG to see his expression, but she couldn't miss his gesture. He waved for her to come forward.

Why had she come here? This was crazy. He wasn't even alone. Her degradation would be witnessed by his buddies.

Nevertheless, she walked toward them. When she was close enough, Louie said, "Well, what have we here? The hottest piece of ass at Marston."

She turned angrily and started to walk away. Louie quickly caught up with her and grabbed her arm. "Don't walk away when I'm talking to you, slut." He spun her around and slapped her across the face.

"You came here for dick, didn't you?" he said. "Well, I've got plenty of dick for you, and so do my friends." He pulled her toward the locker room.

For an instant, she was ready to pull back, to break away, to run into town and take a bus far from Lackanooka, from Marston, from this whole sordid scene.

But she didn't.

She let herself be dragged into the locker room. Several other football players were already there, naked, with their pricks hanging between their hairy legs.

"Look what we've got, guys," Louie said. "It's a Marston girl, looking for dick."

They crowded around her. She counted quickly. Nine of them. All big and athletic. Not enough for a decent fight, if she were interested in fighting. But enough for a rousing gang bang.

And gang-bang her they did. Louie ripped off her jersey and bra, then he lifted her off the floor by her wrists while two other men pulled down her skirt and panties. She pretended to resist and made faint cries for help.

They weren't faint enough for one particularly muscular football player who rammed his fist into her gut.

"Now, don't hurt her," said Louie. "We want her awake so she can appreciate all we're doing for her."

Actually, SG had never been more awake in her life. Big hands were clutching her tits and her buttocks, fingers were wiggling inside her pussy. Then the fucking began. They bent her over a wooden table. Someone pulled the cheeks of her behind apart and squirted lotion into her butt hole. Then he jammed in his prick. She yelped in pain and delight.

When that one finished, another took his place. Five men reamed her rectum. Four fucked her in the pussy.

After that, the blowjobs began. She confronted what seemed an endless parade of pricks -- normal, big and humongous, circumcised and uncircumcised, some with purple heads, others with pulsing red veins.

After half an hour, the men had satisfied themselves.

"What'd I tell you?" said Louie. "Best piece of ass at Marston, and always ready. Right, Blondie?"

SG lay face down on the floor in a daze, with cum flowing from her mouth, her pussy and her ass.

"Answer when he speaks to you," said one of the men. He kicked her in the side, and she groaned in pain.

Louie reached down and scooped her up. She felt light in his arms.

"What are you going to do with her?" one of the men asked.

"I'm going to do what any gentleman would do. Bring my date back home and deposit her safely on her doorstep."

But he didn't deliver her to her doorstep. He and Tom decided it would be more fun to deposit her on the doorstep of Toop the Snoop.

Dean Toopermann lived with her sister in a cottage on the edge of the campus. They dumped SG, naked and semi-conscious, on the small brick front porch. Louie reached into his pocket and pulled out a half pint of cheap Bourbon. He poured it all over SG and rang the doorbell. Then he and Tom went to hide in the bushes.

--

SG awoke to discover herself wrapped in a thick white towel and lying next to the fireplace in Dean Toopermann's living room. She sat up, shook the cobwebs out of her head and looked around.

Sitting a few feet away, in a rocking chair, was Toop. She had a large globular glass in her hand, the kind brandy is served in. Standing behind her was her sister, Regina, a big woman who was rarely seen on campus.

"So our drunken little tart isn't deceased, after all," said Toopermann.

"No, she's very much alive," said Regina. "See the glow on her bare skin. I'd say she's the picture of health."

SG started to speak, then stopped. What could she possibly say? How could she possibly explain?

Toopermann rose and walked toward a doorway. "Come on, dear. Don't keep me waiting."

SG got unsteadily to her feet and followed.

They walked through the kitchen, then entered a darkened room. Toopermann flipped a switch, and SG saw, in the middle of the room, a squat wooden chair that looked very much like the one in the dormitory attic.

She gasped.

"Do you know what this is?" asked Toopermann.

"No," said SG, blushing.

"Ah, but you must have some idea. You see, your face just became flushed, and that's a sign of lying. Of course, it's not the only sign. Here at Marston, we've made a science of distinguishing between truth and falsehood -- deliberate falsehood. And this little chair is one of our more useful inventions."

SG shivered.

"Are you cold?" Regina asked, in a husky, masculine voice.

"No, m'am," said SG.

"Frightened, then?" asked Toopermann. "You should be at least a little frightened, because we're going to find out more about you tonight, including how you came to my doorstep, naked and smelling like a distillery."

"And with ejaculate seeping from between your legs," added Regina, stripping away the towel that was SG's only defense against their cold, prying eyes.

"I want to go home," SG said plaintively. But Regina pushed her forward.

SG was close enough now to see that the chair had straps to secure a victim's wrists and ankles and some sort of metal dome to fit on top of his or her head. But there was no hole in the seat. Whatever Toopermann and her sister had in mind, metallic rape evidently wasn't part of it.

"Sit down," said Toopermann.

She sat, and Toopermann and Regina quickly and expertly bound her to the chair.

"This may be a little uncomfortable," said Toopermann. She lowered the metal helmet, which was attached to a vertical rod behind the chair, onto SG's head. The inside of the helmet had metal protrusions that hurt, but SG said nothing.