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Collected by Djian
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| Object of Affection | Back to M | Back to main page | |||
Collected by Djian
Other stories by H. Dean | Lindy's Tale | Kennel Bitch | Mel and the Sadist
Object of Affection
H. Dean (former EB)
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 |
CHAPTER 1
She heard the footsteps coming into the classroom and looked up. She
sighed. It was him again.
"Yes, Albie?" she said, a little irritably.
The gawky teenager stood in front of her, squirming a little. "Uh,
Mrs. Jones, I..." He swallowed. "I just wanted..."
She laid her pen down resignedly. It was bad enough having to stay
back late marking term papers, without a lovesick fifteen-year-old
hanging around to complicate things. "Albie," she said gently,
"I'm busy."
He flushed. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Jones." Then he started fumbling
hurriedly in his bag. "I... I just wanted to show you something." He
flattened the colored sheets down in front of her on the desk.
For a moment she didn't register. They looked like colored
photocopies, blurry and of poor quality, of some naked pinup girl.
She felt the outrage growing in her and was just opening her mouth to
protest. And then suddenly it hit her.
"Albie," she said weakly, "where in God's name did you find
these?"
He was looking steadily at her, his body unnaturally tense. Then he
relaxed, and let out a long, slow, ragged breath. "So," he whispered,
"It is you."
Immediately she realized her mistake. "I don't know what you're
talking about," she snapped, trying to keep her voice from
shaking. "How dare you come in here and show me these disgusting..."
His expression was triumphant. "Hot damn!" he said exultantly. "I
knew it was you. It says `Susan' under the pictures and I just knew
it was you!" He reached down to take back the sheets and she quickly
jerked them away out of his reach.
"I... I think the best thing to do with these is to burn them," she
said, jumping up and crumpling them hurriedly in her hands. "There
are matches in the storage cupboard..."
" Mrs. Jones." His voice came from behind her, cutting through her
haste. "I've still got the originals."
She stopped, trembling, and felt the tears beginning to sting her
eyes. Then she took a deep breath and turned around slowly to face
him. He was sitting on the corner of her desk, toying idly with her
pen, not looking at her. Suddenly he looked bigger, more self-
assured - and much older than fifteen.
"Albie..." Her mouth worked, trying to force the words out. "Albie,
for God's sake, it was ten years ago. I needed money to go to
college, I..." "Mr. Jones know about these?"
She stared at him wordlessly. She could feel her tears building.
"How about the school Principal?"
The tears were running down her cheeks now. "Albie, please, for
God's sake..."
He looked up at her at last. "My name's Albert," he said. "I
don't like it when people call me Albie."
She stood looking at him, still trembling. "What do you want?" Her
hands were squeezing the wadded paper so hard that her fingers
hurt. "Damn it, what do you WANT?"
He just sat there, staring steadily at her. Finally he spoke. "I want
you to be nice to me. That's all." His mouth twisted. "I just want
one person who'll do that."
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, trying to control
her trembling. "Albie..." He frowned and she corrected herself
hurriedly. "I mean, Albert. I... I don't dislike you, Albert. And I
don't think I've ever been mean to you, have I?" He
didn't reply, andshe pressed her advantage. "Have I, Albert?"
"I guess not," he said reluctantly. He looked back down at the desk.
She tried to keep her voice steady. "And you must have a family who
cares about you. I've seen the expensive clothes and things that
you've been given. Your mother and father..."
"I haven't seen my mother in two years. And my Dad hardly ever
comes home, for God's sake, so he won't have to put up with me. He
says... he says it's a serviced apartment anyway, and the maid's
there to clean up my mess." He looked at her. "There's no one who really
gives a damn about me - not even you."
She felt her sense of desperation growing. "That's not true, Albert.
I've always treated you fairly. I've always tried to encourage you to
do good work." She hesitated. "I've... I've always liked
you." Even to her own ears it rang hollow.
"Oh yeah?" His lip curled. "Then how come you treat me like the local
nerd every time I come anywhere near you?"
"Alb-Albert, it's not that. It's just that I've got so much to do and you're always..."
"Always underfoot," he said bitterly. "I know. Like some stupid
little kid brother." He stood up. "Well, now the stupid little kid
brother's gonna call the tune for a change. Unless you want lots
of people to see those pictures."
Her shoulders sagged in defeat. She felt utterly cold inside. "All
right," she whispered. "What do you want?" She could feel her tears
starting again.
"I want you to come home with me to my apartment." He pulled a sour
face. "To my very own fancy serviced apartment. And when we get there
I want you to be nice to me. Real nice."
Oh God, she thought desperately, I don't believe this. He's a
fifteen- year-old kid, for God's sake. "Albert, I... I can't do that.
My husband - he's expecting me home."
"He's away," he said brutally. "On a business trip. I found that out."
Yes, she though bitterly, he is away. He's never around when I
need him. And now here I am, stuck with this vindictive little teenage
nerd, who wants to blackmail me into doing God knows what...
His voice interrupted her thoughts. "Pack up your things. We're
going in your car. To my apartment."
She made one last desperate effort to regain control. " I... I
won't do it. I won't do it, I tell you." Her trembling was getting
worse. "I'm going straight to the Principal to report you for
attempted blackmail. And then I'm going to the police."
He just stood there looking at her. "The Principal's gone home,
Mrs. Jones. You'll have to wait till the morning." Then he started to
smile. "But you can still go to the cops. The photos should be all
over the papers by tomorrow. Then you won't have to worry about
telling the Principal. Or your husband."
"Oh God." The words were torn out of her. She groped blindly for a
chair. "Oh God." Then she was weeping again, the tears pouring down
her cheeks and falling onto the front of her blouse. "Oh God!"
Finally her sobbing slowed and stopped. He was still standing in
front of her. And then she realized he was holding out a tissue,
offering it to her. She took it without thinking and pressed it to
her face.
"You don't have to cry, Mrs. Jones" his voice was low, almost
tender. "All I want is for you to be nice to me."
The drive was like a nightmare. All she could remember afterwards was
that he was sitting beside her and that it was late enough for the
streetlights to be on. And after she switched off the engine in the
basement car park she realized she had no memory whatever of how she
had driven there.
She closed her eyes as they traveled up in the elevator. This
isn't happening, she kept telling herself. This isn't happening. But
the shudder as the elevator came to a halt was all too real, and the soft
swish of the doors opening was like the loudest sound she had ever
heard. Then she jumped as she felt his hand close around her upper
arm, and she followed him dumbly out into the hallway.
He unlocked the door of the apartment and then stood back, holding
the door open for her. She noticed, almost with surprise, that he was
trembling. "Please come in, " he said thickly. "Please come in to my
apartment."
He locked the deadlock behind them and then sagged suddenly against
the door. "I don't believe it," he whispered. "It's actually
happened." He turned around and looked at her. "I've done it.
You're actually here - in this apartment. And you're locked in!" He
moved towards her and she shrank back against the door.
"Please," she begged, holding up her hands to ward him off,
"don't come any closer. Please." She took several deep shaky
breaths. "Why... why don't we stop this right now, before it goes
any further? Just unlock the door and I'll leave, and I promise
I'll never say anything to anybody about all this. Please."
"Oh God," he whispered. He was trembling even more. "I'm gonna
see you naked. I'm gonna be able to touch you - to touch your... Not
just pictures any more. Oh God!" He reached out and, after a moment's
hesitation, darted his hand to her blouse, right on top of her left
breast. Then he grabbed at her through the clothing.
"Albert!" She snatched at his wrist with both hands, trying
frantically to fend him off. "For God's sake stop it! You're
just a kid and this is against the law and..."
He stopped, staring almost stupidly into her face. Then he
blinked. "No," he breathed. He pulled his hand slowly out of her
desperate grasp and brushed the hair back from his forehead. "No," he
repeated, louder this time. "Gotta... gotta do this right." He
stepped back and sank down into a chair, still trembling. His next
words took her completely by surprise. "You want a drink?"
"What...?" She stared down at him uncomprehending, her body still
pressed back hard against the locked door.
"A drink," he repeated. "A coke. Or a beer. My Dad keeps all that
kind of stuff in the spare refrigerator. Which do you want?"
"Albert," she said frantically, "why don't you forget the drink
and just unlock this door? I told you, I'll never say a word..."
Then he was on his feet again, gripping her so hard that it bruised
her. "You don't understand. We gotta do it exactly right. Here -
I'll show you." He dragged her towards another door. "That's my
computer," he said.
She just gaped at him. He wants to show me his computer? she thought
stupidly. At a time like this?
A look of impatience crossed his face. "My computer," he
repeated. "That's where the scanned images are. And I've made
them all into email attachments - JPEG files - ready to send out.
Don't you understand?"
Computers! Even in the midst of her distress she could feel the old
feelings returning, the helpless sense of not understanding, the
unpleasant all-too-familiar tightening around her head, like a steel
band. Her husband's voice, straining to be patient with her in
front of their computer at home: its simple, sweetheart. You just click on
here, and when the little window opens... She gripped the edge of the
doorframe and tried to stay upright. And what the hell's a jaypeg
anyway? she thought desperately. All she could see on the computer
screen was flying toasters.
He was still talking to her - meaningless words and phrases about
address books and queued messages and firewalls and hacking. He
grabbed the mouse and the toasters disappeared. "Look," he said
triumphantly, clicking on the screen, "here's the attachment for
the first message." And suddenly there was an image of her face, an image
from ten years before, looking at her from the screen. She stared,
hypnotized.
"And the next message," he went on, clicking again. And this time it
was the same picture but with the frame wider, showing her bare
shoulders and her hands hugging them. She kept staring helplessly at
the screen.
Now there was another image - the same picture again but showing
right down to below her waist. Her arms were crossed coyly in front
of her breasts, but it was very obvious that she was naked. "And you
know what the text says?" he asked. "It says: Do you know this woman?"
I remember that picture, she thought despairingly. It's the most
recognizable of them all. Anyone who sees it will know it's me.
"So you see," he said smugly, "you gotta do exactly what I say. OK?"
He twisted around in the chair and stared at her. "So take your
clothes off. I wanna see you naked."
It felt unreal, like a horrible dream. There was a pulse pounding in
her temple. "Albert..." she began faintly.
"Take them off," he repeated. "Now."
She pressed her forehead against the wall. "Oh God," she whispered.
Her fingers gripped the doorframe so hard that they hurt.
"Don't you believe me?" His voice rose, harsh and angry.
"I'll show you! I'll send the first one right now." He turned back to the
computer and clicked viciously with the mouse. "There - it's
gone!"
He looked at her over his shoulder. "It'll be in your
husband's mailbox in about two minutes. And in the Principal's. I
c.c.'d it to him as well."
"What?" she screamed, incredulous. "You did what? You sent one of
those pictures to my husband? And to the Principal? Which one did you
send?" She took a half step towards him and he shrank back against
the desk.
"I... I told you I was gonna do it," he said hastily. "I told you I
was gonna do it if you didn't take your clothes off. And you
didn't take your clothes off, and I did it."
"But you... you didn't give me time!" she shrieked. "I didn't
understand what you were going to do. I... I haven't the faintest
idea about computers and all that stuff you were talking about. I
didn't understand! Oh God - what did you do?"
"But I told you," he repeated. He stared at her, uncomprehending. "I
told you I had the messages all queued up and..." He paused. "You
mean you really didn't understand?"
"No!" she wailed despairingly. "And I still don't understand.
What did you DO?"
"Gee, you really are dumb. About computers and stuff." He shook his
head in resignation. "So lemme tell it to you slow, all over again.
And this time you'd better listen real good. Otherwise your
husband'll end up with a whole photo album of those pictures."
She found herself being drawn unwillingly forward, closer to the
hateful screen, as he explained again. She felt sick inside, but she
forced herself to pay attention. "This was the first message," he
said. "And it says, `Do you know this woman?' And I sent it
to your husband and the Principal. And when they click on the attachment
they'll see this picture." And the picture of her face was back
on the screen.
She felt herself go limp with relief. "You mean that's all you
sent?"she whispered. "Just that picture of my face?"
"Yeah, but they'll wonder, won't they? Where it came from,
and why it's a picture of you. And when they get the next one..." He clicked
again, and there was the next picture, the one of her head and
shoulders. "And the one after that..." Her arms were crossed in front
of her bare breasts. "And after that..." Now it was one of the more
explicit pictures, with her full frontal naked, posing suggestively
on a bed.
The initial relief was replaced by dread. "OK, OK," she said
desperately. "Please... please don't send any more, Albert." She
could feel the tears starting again. "I'll do what you want."
"That's more like it," he breathed. He blinked up at her. "So take
your clothes off. Like I said, I wanna see you naked." and from now
on," said Albert, "you will call me Mr. May. He emphasized mister
hoping to make his point. He was in charge, and he wanted her to know
it. He blinked up at her. "So take your clothes off, Mrs. Jones, oh
that sounds so formal I'll call you Susan, no Suzie just like in the
picture, So Suzie, like I said, I wanna see you naked."
"Oh God!" She turned away from him and began slowly unbuttoning her
blouse. Her fingers were shaking so much she could hardly undo the
buttons. Then she tensed as his voice came again from behind her.
"Nah," he said. "Turn around and face me. I wanna see it all."
With a low groan of despair she turned around, slowly, ever so
slowly, and went on undressing in front of him, forcing her fingers
to do what had to be done. He watched her without comment as she let
each item of clothing fall unheeded onto the floor. At last she stood
nude in front of him. She was trembling so violently she could hardly
stand up.
He ran his eyes all over her naked body and licked his lips. "Hot...
damn..." he said slowly. "You're just as sexy as you were ten years
ago. Maybe even better."
The situation overwhelmed her at last. Her legs gave way and she sank
to her knees on the floor, clutching one arm across the front of her
naked breasts and covering her exposed pubis with her other
hand. "I'm married," she sobbed. "Only my husband should see me like
this. Why are you doing this to me?"
"How many guys saw you like this ten years ago? A million, maybe? Two
million?" His voice was pitiless. She bowed her head and wept.
There was a long silence, broken only by her soft sobbing. Then at
last he spoke. "Get up, Suzie," he said. "Get up and come over here.
I wanna touch you."
Her crying intensified. "Oh God, Mr. May, please..."
"I'm gonna count to three," he said. "And if you're not
standing in front of me when I'm finished I'm gonna send the second
message. And then the third one." He paused. "One...... two......"
"Nooooo!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet as fast as she could.
She ran across to him, panting and trembling. "Please, Mr. May..."
He looked up at her from his chair. "Take your arms away from your
tits," he said. "And step closer."
She gave a low moan of despair and obeyed him, standing with her arms
by her sides. Her trembling had increased. He reached up slowly and
grasped her left breast. She flinched, but didn't pull away.
"It's soft," he said wonderingly, as his fingers sank into her flesh.
His other hand moved up to her right breast. "Real soft. I never
thought tits'd be as soft as that." He began to play thoughtfully
with her nipples, pulling and tugging at them. "And these things are
supposed to stick out when you get... you know, horny." He tugged a
little harder. "Aren't they?"
She winced under his tugging fingers. "Yes," she whispered
wretchedly. "Oh God."
"But they're not sticking out now." He fondled her some more.
"Aren't you horny yet?"
What the hell do you expect! she wanted to scream. You expect me to
become aroused from standing here like this and being mauled by a
perverted little monster like you? "No, Mr. May," she whispered
brokenly. "I'm not horny."
He slid his hands slowly down her body until he was gripping the
swell of her hips. He pulled her towards him and she stepped
unwillingly closer. He peered almost reverently at her crotch. "My
first close up view of pussy," he said wonderingly. "Real pussy." He
brushed the backs of his fingers across her pubic bush. "It sure is
hairy. More than in your pinups." He looked up at her face. "How
come?"
She felt her face burning. "They... they trimmed it," she
mumbled. "Before they took the photos." She closed her eyes in
humiliation. Then she felt one of his fingers sliding up inside her
and she opened her eyes again with a sudden gasp. "Mr. May - please!"
"Where is it?" he asked. "Your clit." He delved deeper. "Is this it?"
She shuddered, holding herself still by a huge effort of will. I will
not break, she thought hopelessly. I will not... "Owwww!" she yelped
suddenly, her hands flying to grab at his wrist. "Mr. May -
you're hurting me!"
"Well, show me where it is," he said roughly, jabbing into her and
making her cry out once more. "Stick your finger in here and show me.
I wanna rub it and make you horny."
She tightened her grip on his wrist. The tears were pouring down her
cheeks now - tears of humiliation and helplessness. And she was
trembling so much she could hardly stay standing. "All right, Mr.
May," she whispered. "I'll show you. Please stop hurting me and
I'll show you."
He pulled his finger almost out of her and then stopped. "OK," he
said impatiently. "Put your finger in here beside mine and show me."
Oh God, she thought despairingly, can I sink any lower than this? As
she slowly spread her trembling knees apart she thought she was going
to fall over, and without thinking she grabbed at his shoulder to
steady herself. She tried to insert one finger in beside his but
there wasn't room. So she just took hold of his hand and began
pushing it slowly back in. "Th...there," she said dully. "Just there.
Don't... don't do it too hard. You'll hurt me."
"That's it?" he asked in surprise. "This teeny thing? And I rub
it like this?"
His touch was the most inexpert she had ever felt. She closed her
eyes again, gripping his shoulder like a drowning person and trying
to stay on her feet. "Yes, Mr. May," she whispered hopelessly. "Just
like that."
"And your... your hole must be back here somewhere..." His hand moved
in further, pushing her labia apart. "Oh yeah," he sighed as his
finger slid up inside her, "There it is." His voice rose. "I don't
believe it - I've got my finger right up inside a real pussy!" His
finger moved roughly in and out of her again. "And that's where my
dick's gonna go. Oh God!"
"Please, Mr. May," she protested shakily. "That hurts. Please stop
it. Please."
His finger moved back to her clitoris and started clumsily rubbing it
again. "How long have I gotta do it? Are you starting to get horny
yet?"
Suddenly she lost it. "No, I am not getting horny!" she almost
shrieked, trembling with helpless rage. "This is the most dreadful
awful thing that's ever happened to me in my whole life and I am
NOT GETTING HORNY!"
He pulled his finger abruptly out of her. "Well get on the bed
anyway," he said callously. "I wanna have my first fuck."
The dread flooded back, overwhelming her anger. She sank to her knees
again, her hands instinctively clasped in front of her in a pathetic
caricature of prayer. "Mr. May, I beg you. This is illegal.
You're under eighteen. If anyone ever finds out that I've... that I've had
sex with you, I'll go to jail. Please don't make me do this.
Please!"
He looked down at her, his youthful face hard. "I'm not gonna tell
the cops. Are you?" Then he stood up and began to take off his T-
shirt. "I can always send more messages instead," he added, as his
face disappeared inside the shirt.
She stayed on her knees in front of him, staring almost sightlessly
at the bulge of his erection inside his jeans. Oh God, she thought
despairingly, what am I going to do? Then she became aware that he
was speaking again. "Count of three," he said. "One...... two......"
"Ohhhhhhhh!" It was a cry of pain, dragged out of her very depths.
She floundered up onto the bed, her eyes blinded with tears, and lay
there huddled in the fetal position. "Oh God!"
She heard the sound of clothing moving against skin, and then he was
climbing onto the bed with her. She felt his naked body pressing
against hers, felt the hardness of his erection digging into her bare
buttock. "Roll over onto your back, Suzie," he hissed into her
ear. "And spread your legs."
She obeyed him. She felt completely numb. She kept her eyes jammed
shut as he clambered on top of her, groping clumsily at her
crotch. "Now, where's that hole?" he muttered. "Ahhhh - there it is!"
She felt the head of his penis pressing at the mouth of her vagina
and then heard him sigh as he slowly pushed himself into her. "Oh
God," he gasped. "What a feeling. Oh God!"
Then without warning he started pumping into her at full speed, his
erection pistoning violently in and out of her unready vagina,
driving her limp body down against the mattress again and
again. "First fuck..." he panted wildly. "Oh yeah... yeah... yeah...
Oh God... Feels so good... Oh yeah... Oh yeah... Oh yeaaaaaahhh...
aaahhh!... aaahhh!... aaahhh!... aaaaaahhhhhh fuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkk!!"
And then she felt all his teenage semen starting to flood out inside
her.
She was weeping again as he lay trembling on top of her, his hoarse
panting slowing subsiding. "Oh God..." he gasped at last, "that was
fucking fantastic..." He grabbed one of her breasts with a trembling
hand and squeezed it. "Fucking fantastic," he repeated wearily. "And
I can... I can do it again as much as I want. `Cause you... you gotta
do everything I tell you." He let out a long, contented sigh and
tightened his grip on her breast, snuggling himself down into her
nakedness. "Oh God... I'll never waste time... jerking off again...
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh God...!"
His dead weight kept her pressed down against the bed. She could feel
his invading organ slowly softening inside her, feel his warm semen
trickling slowly out of her bruised vagina. She squeezed her eyes
shut even tighter. How did I get into this? she thought in helpless
agony. I've just let a fifteen-year-old kid have sex with me.I've
just broken the law. Why in God's name did I ever pose for those
damned pictures? And why did he have to find them? Him of all people.
Oh God!