Stacy's Senior Year 6	Back to I	Back to main page

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STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART SIX)
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi

WARNING: This story contains blackmail, non-consensual sex,
humiliation, D&S and all that sort of good stuff (albeit not
in every instalment). If you are offended by this sort of
thing, it would be better to stop reading now. You have been
warned.

- This is the sixth part of a ten-part series. For full
effect, read the other parts first.

Copyright 1993. Feel free to distribute this story as
you wish, but please leave it unchanged (particularly
the attribution; I want all the credit/blame). I would
also ask that you exercise some discretion in where you
send it; not all BBSs or readers should be exposed to
this sort of material (who knows what might happen?).

Stacy's short skirt was once again bunched up around her waist. Her
sleek legs were spread wide, and wrapped around the bulky form of Bob Pearson as
he pistoned his cock brutally in and out of her dry pussy. They were in one of
the supply rooms at Greenwood; Stacy's ass was propped up on a narrow shelf and
her back was against the wall as Barry fucked her. In vain, she tried to
re-discover some of the excitement of the previous weekend up at BCN. Her
responses that night had been more than a little degrading, but at least she
had been able to deal with the sex without this pain; perhaps even get a
little enjoyment out of it.

No matter how hard she tried, however, she was unable to feel anything
other than the intense pain of the ordeal, as Barry's large cock sawed in
and out of her raw pussy.

'Please,' she thought wearily as he panted and grunted his lust,
'please come!'

Just let it be over.

*****

As instructed, Stacy showed up at the photography studio at 8:00 PM two
nights later. The mid-December weather was unusually cold, and she was
wearing a heavy denim jacket over her jeans and sweater. She was, however, carrying
a duffel bag which contained some clothing of a less practical nature. Sharon
had ordered Stacy to bring along various items of apparel, such as underwear,
stockings, short skirts and, in particular, a couple of swimsuits from last
year's swim team. Stacy had been apprehensive, but she was now pretty much
past the stage of arguing or pleading. It never did any good. All that mattered
was that she reach number sixty-five before the end of the year. She had managed
number fifteen earlier that day (her pussy still ached); only fifty more to
go! At her wrist, the rapidly filling charm bracelet attested to her "success".

The studio itself was basically a large, high-ceilinged single room
with a cloth backdrop against the rear wall. The backdrop was a neutral white,
designed to take on the hue of whatever colored light was being directed at
it. There was a long metal bar on the ceiling which held a number of different
lights set there for this purpose. The floor in front of the backdrop was
covered by a dark mat. In front of this mat was another bank of lights, not
colored, and a camera. At the back of the room was a wooden door with a red
light hanging above it; a small sign identified it as the darkroom.

"Stacy."

Gary walked up to her as she stood by the door, put his arm over her
shoulder, and directed her into the room. Stacy shuddered slightly at his
touch, but allowed herself to be led. Sharon, standing behind the camera,
looked over and smirked. There was a belch from the back of the room; Stacy
looked over and saw Neil, sitting back against the wall with his feet
propped up on a small table and a beer in his hand. He grinned over at her and
raised the beer can in mock greeting. Behind her, the door to the studio clicked
shut.

Sharon made a small adjustment to the camera, and then walked over to
where Gary had begun emptying out the contents of Stacy's duffel bag onto
the floor.

"Let's see what we've got," she muttered, sorting through the clothes.
Stacy watched, numb and frightened, as Sharon and Gary sorted through the
various items of apparel, rejecting some and laughing at others.

"Don't forget this stuff." Neil had left his seat and was approaching
with another bag, the contents of which he dumped onto the floor beside Stacy's
clothes. It contained a number of leather and rubber outfits, including,
Stacy noted queasily, the outfit she had worn up at BCN last weekend. She
swallowed, fighting to keep her features impassive; she had resolved not to let them
see her cry again.

Finally, they were done. Gary looked up at her.

"You know what's going on?" He gestured towards the camera.

Stacy nodded reluctantly.

"Yes," she answered. It hadn't been difficult to figure out. She had
cried in her bedroom when Gary had ordered her to show up at the photography
studio with the clothing, but she wasn't going to cry now. She wasn't going to give
them the satisfaction.

Gary grinned. "Then let's get started." He turned to his girlfriend.
"Sharon?"

"Yeah, OK," Sharon nodded, "but let's give her a drink first. It's
going to be hot under those lights."

Stacy looked up. Huh?

Sharon picked up an open can of coke from a nearby table and handed it
to her. "Drink up," she instructed. "We don't want you fainting on the set.
We've got lots of stuff to get through tonight."

Confused, Stacy did as ordered; she drank the coke and handing the
empty can back to the impatiently waiting Sharon.

The other girl nodded and took the bottle.

"OK," she announced, "I think we'll start with..."

Stacy spent the next few hours in front of the lights, running through
countless degrading poses in dozens of different outfits. Humiliatingly,
they started her out with some of her own clothes which she had brought:
mini-skirt, blouse and high heels.

"Look at the camera."

The colored lights placed her in front of a soft, yellow backdrop. As
instructed, Stacy looked at the camera.

"Lean forward... legs apart."

She bent down and spread her legs, causing the skirt to ride up. Her
blonde hair, combed out straight, hung down over her left shoulder, framing
her breasts for the camera. Behind the bank of lights, her three tormentors were
only shadowed silhouettes. Stacy was reminded of her dreams of stripping in
front of such lights.

"Open the blouse... now cup your breasts and look sexy. Keep looking
up; we want to see your face."

Her hands trembled as they undid the buttons. She had known it would
come to this, but it was still so hard; particularly in front of the camera. She
cupped her small breasts in her hands, involuntarily teasing her own
nipples. They hardened immediately. Would they notice?

"That's it. Nice nipples. Now, lick your lips..."

Stacy wetted her lips and did her best to look sexy and inviting. Her
nipples stayed hard.

"Bend over a bit more... let's see some more leg..."

Then they dressed her in one of her old swimsuits, now at least one
size too small:

"That's right... other way, now..."

Stacy stood, side on to the camera. They had soaked the suit before
dressing her in it, and it clung tenaciously to every curve. Worse, the cold
water caused her nipples to become hard again, and it was plainly visible
through the thin swimsuit.

"Shoulders back... good, that pushes out your tits... play with the
nipples, make them nice and hard... there you go..."

Stacy flushed red.

"OK... now run your hand through your hair... look like you need a good
fuck..."

Stacy did as ordered. She slid her fingers through her blonde hair,
shaking it out at the back as she did so. She was beginning to feel a queer
sort of arousal in the pit of her stomach. She fought to hide it, but it was
difficult to do while trying to look sexy.

Then came the outfit she had worn for the party at BCN. It quickly
became apparent to Stacy that they had not cleaned it since that night; it stank of
dried sweat and sperm.

This time, Sharon put on some music, and had Stacy dance a slow
striptease. Neil called encouragement as Stacy slowly divested herself of
first the cum-encrusted shirt, and then the tight leather skirt.

And, just like in her dream, she became more and more aroused...

A short break to re-load the camera while Stacy stood, panting
slightly, in front of the lights. She was naked from the previous stripping, save only
for the leather, high-heeled boots. Neil came over and played with her
sweaty tits until it was time for a new outfit.

Stacy fought hard not to respond...

Finally, it was over.

Stacy stood, drained and sweaty in the last outfit she had modelled, a
tight, pink rubber dress which left bare as much as it concealed. It was cut
low on her neckline, leaving her chest bare down to the upper curve of her
tits (at one point in the session, she had been ordered to pop her tits out of
the dress, but they were re-covered now). The dress also left her arms exposed
up to the shoulder, and only covered her upper thighs down to just below her
crotch. Her legs were clearly displayed, taut and sleek in the black pumps.
Sharon had done her hair up in a tight bun, giving her a severe, sexy look.

Neil slipped behind her, reached around and began playing with her
breasts through the thin rubber as Gary and Sharon clicked off the lights and began
storing the film. Involuntarily, Stacy moaned, but didn't pull away. Her
nipples hardened and a trickle of sweat dribbled down between her breasts as
they strained against the latex. Neil began kissing her neck.

Gary looked over and smiled. Stacy's eyes were closed and her mouth
slightly parted as she leaned back to accept Neil's attentions. Her body was
clearly beginning to respond. This seemed like a good time to bring up...

"Oh, Stacy." Stacy opened up her eyes and stiffened, remembering where
she was.

"I heard that Barry Packard asked you out last a little while ago and
you refused. Is that true?"

Stacy bit her lip apprehensively, but nodded. She recognized the tone
of voice Gary was using; something bad was going to happen. Behind her, Neil
reached down with one hand and began massaging her pussy through the latex
dress. The other hand continued to fondle her tits. Subconsciously, she
began to squirm back against him.

"Well," Gary continued, "from now on, there'll no more of that. If one
of your 'lovers' wants a re-match, you agree to it."

"What?!" Stacy tried to move forward, but Neil held her tight. "What
are you talking about?" Neil popped one of her breasts out from the dress and
began teasing the nipple. Stacy tried to ignore it.

"That wasn't a rule."

"It's a new rule," Sharon told her, grinning. "From now on, once a
guy's fucked you, you can't say 'no' to him until you've finished all sixty-five."

Stacy's features began to quiver. She had resolved not to cry, but this
was too much. A tear trickled down her cheek as she considered the
implications of what was being said.

"B-but... there'll be no end of it. I'll have to do it all the time."
Her mind, now cloudy with lust, struggled to find objections.

"When am I supposed to study or do other things? There are exams coming
up!"

Sharon laughed outright at that. Stacy had just been told that she had
to agree to fuck almost any guy that asked, and she was complaining about not
being able to study for exams!

"Don't worry about the exams," Gary told her. "We'll get you the test
papers ahead of time. Hell, we'll even do it for free this time." The three
of them laughed as Stacy began to cry in earnest.

"Besides," Gary continued, "it's not all bad news. We've decided to let
you earn some pocket money while you're doing it."

"What?"

"From now on, you charge five bucks for a repeat fuck."

Stacy looked at him in horror.

"The first one's free, but repeat service costs five bucks." He looked
over at Neil. "Except," he continued, "for Neil, of course. He gets it for
free."

If possible, Stacy's sobs became louder. No matter how bad things
became, they always managed to make them a little worse. Or a lot worse!

Gary and Sharon continued packing up as Neil slipped his hand under the
short dress and began to play with her pussy directly. Stacy shuddered and
then relaxed back into his chest, defeated. There was no use resisting it. She
began to pant as Neil pushed his middle finger into her now-moist cunt.

When Gary and Sharon finally left the room, she was sitting on top of
Neil's erection, riding it up and down, the pink dress bunched up around her
waist.

*******

Stacy was slumped forward on the desk. Her head was cradled sideways in
her arms, spilling blonde hair in waves out over the wooden desktop. Outside
the closed office door, the grade eight students she was supposed to be
supervising were yelling and running about, her usually well-structured
Recreation course having dissolved into chaos in her absence.

She didn't care. She was too tired to care. She hadn't even changed
into her usual gym outfit for the class, instead just stumbling around the
gymnasium in her green tweed dress, barely getting the class started before retreating
to the office. She just didn't care anymore.

Last night she had attended Ashley's Christmas party and, in the course
of the evening, had managed to have sex with four different guys: two blowjobs
and two fucks. Actually, it had been five guys, but one of them had turned out
not to be a student at Greenwood, and Stacy no longer counted the non-students.
That brought her total up to twenty: twenty different guys, and twenty shiny
"F"s on her imprisoned wrist. Only forty-five more to go. Only! Her pussy
ached at the thought.

As was happening so often these days, Stacy found herself fighting back
the urge to cry. How had she fallen into this trap? How had such a little
thing as cheating on a math test led her into the kind of life she was now
leading? Looking back, she could see how Gary - it must have been Gary; Neil wasn't
anywhere near smart or subtle enough to plan this sort of thing - had slowly
escalated the incidents of blackmail and humiliation until all her options
had disappeared. Even now, if it had just been the original session at Neil's,
she might be tempted to rebel - perhaps even turn to the police - but Gary had
since then taken it even further. Now, there were the pictures taken at the
photography studio and the awful video-tape of that night at BCN, where
Sharon had turned her into a whore! Sharon had shown the tape to her the day after
the photo session. How could anyone believe her story after seeing her enjoying
herself so much? She could barely believe it herself. What had happened to
her?
Sex was usually so degrading and painful; why had it felt so good? Still,
whatever the reason, there was no way out; no one would believe her now.

So, she took the path of least resistance, and did what they wanted.

It had been three days since the session at the photography studio, and
she was unable to get it out of her mind. It was not just the fact that the
pictures had been taken. That was terrible enough, and she was thoroughly
frightened about what would be done with the resulting photographs. Gary had
told her that they were just for "personal use" (whatever that meant), but
how could she trust him? It was not just the fact that she could no longer
refuse to have sex with the guys she had already fucked; that was bad, but she
thought she could control matters so that very few of them invited her out again. As
long as it was kept quiet, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. It was not
even the sex with Neil; he had fucked her a number of times already, and it
was getting to be almost routine.

What frightened her about the session in the studio was the way she had
responded to the situation, and, later, to Neil. By the time he had pushed
up her dress and forced her to impale herself upon his rigid cock, she had been
so excited that she had experienced an orgasm within seconds of penetration. In
the fucking that followed, she had cum twice more, moaning and squirming
like some kind of slut-bitch on Neil's cock.

As was the case with the session at BCN, she was not sure how she felt
about this. On one hand, she was being forced to do horribly degrading
things and it was as if her own body was betraying her by allowing her to respond
sexually. What kind of girl - what kind of a slut - would enjoy the kind of
obscene activity which had occurred at BCN? On the other hand, it looked
very much like she had very little choice in the matter. She was trapped, and
would have to fuck countless guys in the next few months. Given that this was
going to happen anyway, wouldn't it be better to get at least some enjoyment out
of it? If nothing else, she could do without the constant pain of her pussy
being rubbed raw as a result of her being dry at the wrong time.

What she needed was some way to control the excitement. Some way to
allow her to do what she had to do with a minimum of pain, but which would allow
her to control herself so that her surrender would not be complete. Some way
to...

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She glanced
at her watch and saw that it was after 3:15; class was over. She patted down
her green tweed dress and shook her blonde hair, unconsciously adjusting her
appearance. That must be...

It was. The door swung open to reveal a grinning Tim, followed closely
by Dennis. Stacy groaned, but gestured for them to enter the office for their
weekly session.

There must be some better way to deal with this!

*******

Ashley Peters stood, giggling, in a cluster of friends in a doorway
near the water fountain. The girls were pulling a nasty practical joke, and were
waiting for the victim to arrive. Even among this group, basically the most
popular (ie. beautiful) girls at Greenwood, Ashley stood out as something
special. She was taller than any of the other girls, but still well-rounded
in all of the important places, particularly her breasts. Indeed, the only
other girl at school that was in her league was Stacy Richards, but while Stacy
was small and perfectly proportioned, Ashley was big-boned and extremely well
endowed, particularly for an eighteen year-old. Where Stacy had a finely
chiselled face and high cheek bones, Ashley's face was wide and generous,
with thick, pouty lips and wide brown eyes. Where Stacy had shoulder length
blonde hair, Ashley was a brunette, with a thick, reddish-brown mane of hair that
fell halfway down her back. In short, Stacy's was a hard, athletic beauty, while
Ashley was softer and more luxurious: equally beautiful, but in an entirely
different manner.

The two girls were, of course, rivals, but only in a relaxed, friendly
way. There was simply no need for them to compete, for boys or otherwise.
The only real point of contention was the title of Homecoming Queen, and Ashley
had - more or less - conceded it to Stacy the previous year. Stacy's school
activities, from cheerleading to the track and swim team to supervising the
grade eight "Rec" class, made her almost certain to take the title instead
of Ashley, whose list of school activities was somewhat shorter (or, in truth,
non-existent). Life was too short, she figured. So, the two girls ruled over
their little clique in a co-operative fashion, acknowledging the other's
attributes without conceding superiority.

Ashley noticed Stacy coming out of a doorway at the other end of the
hall, followed by a couple of grade eight jerks. She looked a little dishevelled,
but Ashley put it down to the activity of the "Rec" class.

"Stacy," Ashley called after her, eager to have her share in the joke,
but Stacy didn't seem to hear, and moved down the hall away from the group. The
two boys followed close behind. Ashley narrowed her eyes as she watched her
friend turn a corner and disappear from view. Stacy had been acting a little
strange lately. She wondered if...

"She's coming!"

Stephanie, who had been watching around the corner, whispered the
warning and stepped back, out of sight. Ashley dropped Stacy from her mind and
joined the group as they watched expectantly.

They didn't have long to wait. Karen Williamson walked, unsuspecting,
around the corner and up to her locker. The heavy, dark-haired girl didn't
notice Ashley's group as they watched from the doorway. The trap was sprung!
As she pulled the locker door open, hundreds of sheets of paper slid out and
onto the floor in front of, and around, the locker. Each sheet had been carefully
torn from various Playboy and other,similar, magazines, depicting beautiful
women in some stage of undress. Karen watched, stunned, as more and more
paper fell out of her locker. Ashley and her group could contain themselves no
longer, and finally broke out into raucous laughter as more and more people
in the hallway stopped and stared. As well as putting the loose sheets in the
locker, they had pasted up a number of pictures on the door and walls of
Karen's locker. The people in the hallway began to laugh as Karen turned
red, and then began to cry with embarrassment.

Satisfied with the damage, Ashley led her group away from the scene of
their victory as more and more people joined the crowd of students laughing
at and taunting their unfortunate victim as she crawled around on her hands and
knees trying to recover the pictures.

If they had stayed a little longer, they might have noticed Sharon
Stevens, who had watched the whole incident develop, walk up to the
humiliated Karen and start talking to her in a hushed voice.

Karen quickly stopped crying and began to listen intently.

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