24-Hour Boy Toy Tiffany free porn video

I didn't write this story, but enjoyed reading it elsewhere. Had a search for it here and couldn't see it so I thought I'd share it with everyone here.


CHAPTER ONE

THE ONE THAT GOES LIKE THIS:

"We're on our own, cousin/
All alone, cousin/
Let's think of some games to play/
Now the grown-ups have all gone away."

- "Cousin Kevin," The Who


It had been four months since Tiffany Daniels had been a toy.

The gorgeous 16-year-old cheerleader had spent those four months trying to
re-build her reputation at Daniels High School in Beverly, Texas, the school that
was named for her grandfather, Godfrey Daniels. In a mere two weeks, Tiffany's
status in the school had done a dramatic and (to her) horrifying 180-degree
change. Before, she had been the school's princess, a wealthy, stuck-up girl who
ran with, and ran, the coolest clique, and a cock-teaser of the first order.
Every boy in the school wanted to fuck her, and every girl in the school wanted
to be her.

But then Principal Roger White, two of her teachers and the school's janitor, Old
Joe Black, had started playing their vicious little games with her. It had
started with blackmail, and then there were videotapes, and more blackmail. They
made her dress like a slut at school and in public, they thought up nasty public
humiliations. The school buzzed about how Tiffany Daniels had suddenly gone from
being the Girl Most Likely to Succeed to the Girl Most Likely to Suck Seed.

And her classmates didn't know the half of it, how she had been forced into an
orgy after hours in the cafeteria with the older men, getting her ass reamed by
their cocks and sucking their assholes - rimjobs, they had called the act. How
she had been forced to give handjobs and blowjobs to the entire visiting
basektball team in their locker room at halftime of the homecoming game. No, her
classmates didn't know, and so once the torment stopped and she was allowed to
return to being Princess Tiffany, slowly, the rumors stopped. The k**s of Daniels
High found new topics to obsess on, from "Dawson's Creek" to upcoming rock
concerts to which teacher might be gay, the usual hallway chat of upper-middle
class teens.

But Tiffany remembered. She had thought that once the men stopped their perverted
games, she would be able to resume her life, and on the surface, she did. But at
night, unable to sleep, she would remember everything. The shame, the
humiliation. And the orgasms. Yes, as awful as it had been, the men had brought
out Tiffany's sexual side, ignited a fire deep inside her that now was banked,
but still glowing. She would lay in bed, remembering how the school janitor's
big, rigid cock had felt pistoning into her tight young butthole, and how his
fingers had felt on her stiff little clit as he rubbed it hard, and she couldn't
help it, her right hand would slip underneath the waistband of her panties and
start stroking her pussy lightly, then harder, then harder still, until she was
diddling herself like a madwoman. She'd put her pillow over her face and bite
into and scream as she came. And when she was done, she would start again, and
keep at it, cumming and cumming and screaming into her pillow, until her pussy
juice was glazing the inside of her sleek, tanned 16- year-old thighs.

What had they done to her? She knew, deep down, what they had done to her, even
though she could not admit it to herself.

And what were they doing to her sister Stephanie? That she did not know; she
could only guess. At the end, she had turned her 14-year-old sister over to Mr.
White and the others as a way for her to escape further torture at their hands.
Except Stephanie had proved to be a very willing victim. Little Stephanie, a mere
freshman in high school, had turned out to have a submissive streak in her that
she was just discovering. She had thrilled to the idea of being the plaything of
a group of older men, of being ordered around, made to kneel and suck their cocks
while they pulled her blonde hair with both hands and jammed their cocks into her
hot young mouth as deep as they could.

Stephanie had started telling her parents she was studying at friends' houses at
night, but Tiffany was sure she was participating in depraved orgys of dominance
and submission with the men. One day at school she had seen Stephanie wearing a
dog collar with the word SLUT spelled out in metal studs across the front.
Another day she had seen her sister wearing a sundress that was so sheer it was
almost transparent. Not only was she not wearing a bra and panties underneath,
but Tiffany could see that her little sister had shaved her pussy, or had it
shaved for her. Every guy at school could see the 14-year-old girl's smooth
labia, and Stephanie just smiled a secret smile, knowing the reaction she was
getting.

Tiffany wasn't jealous, she told herself. She really wasn't. That period of her
life had been hell, even though she had been, perversely, the center of attention
of the entire school. Now Stephanie was the one all the boys ogled. Tiffany had
regained her status, but she had been upstaged by her little sister.

And so the school year at Daniels ended, and summer vacation began. Being rich,
Tiffany didn't have to work. She had spent her 15th summer as a lifeguard at the
pool in the Daniels' subdivision, but had gotten bored with just sitting around
all day, even if she had enjoyed all the boys flocking around her and wetting
their lips over how she looked in the tight, clingy red one-piece suit. This
summer she had decided to just go to the pool when she felt like it, rather than
on a schedule, and watch her soaps and hang out with her friends. Maybe she'd get
regular pedicures. Maybe she'd put on something sexy and go down to the mall and
tease the boys and the men. But that thought reminded her of what had happened at
the mall back when she was a toy, how she had been forced to strip and give
blowjobs, and she decided maybe she wouldn't go to the mall after all.

On Saturday morning at the end of the first week of summer, Tiffany's mother woke
her up and reminded her that this was the weekend she was supposed to baby-sit
for her cousin Matt.

"Ahh, jeez, mom, do I have to?" the girl whined. Matt was a brat, a regular Bart
Simpson, she recalled, although she hadn't seen the boy in three years.

"Yes, you have to," her mother said. "We're going camping with Uncle Pete and
Aunt Peggy, and they don't think Matt is old enough to be alone, so I
volunteered you. And that's that, young lady. We leave in an hour."

Cursing under her breath, Tiffany got ready, pulling on a loose white peasant
blouse and a pair of short-shorts. At least Pete and Peggy have a pool in their
backyard, she muttered to herself, as she packed her makeup, a change of clothes,
hair care equipment, and her new white bikini.

Two hours later, the Daniels pulled into the driveway of the new house in
Ridgewood, a subdivision equally as lavish as the one Tiffany lived in. Or at
least it would be in a year or so. Right now it was brand new, still mostly
vacant lots, with a few homes under construction. Aunt Peggy and Uncle Pete had
bought one of the first homes, and it was way at the back of the huge
subdivision. The wooded lot of more than an acre sat at the end of a cul de sac
on which there were no other homes. The house was enormous and obviously worth
more than $1 million, Tiffany thought, but why would they build one so far away
from any other neighbor?

Still pouting about getting stuck with baby-sitting, Tiffany got out of the car
and forced a smile as Pete and Peggy came out and greeted her parents. They
exclaimed on how she had grown, what a beauty she was, all the usual adult crap,
she thought, while keeping the smile plastered on. Then she saw a figure standing
in the doorway.

"Hey, cuz!" he called. "What's up?"

Was that Matt? she thought. She had last seen him as a scrawny, nasty 10-year-old
boy, a k** who was always trying to peek through the keyhole at her when she went
to the bathroom. The last time she had baby- sat for Matt, three years ago, she
had had to give him a spanking for picking the lock on the bathroom door while
she was taking a shower and bursting in to see her naked body.

But this boy had grown. Boy, had he grown. Matt Daniels was now 5 foot, 8 inches,
an inch taller than Tiffany. He had put on weight, too, and most of it was
muscle. Standing there in gym shorts and no shirt, his arms crossed over his
chest and a sly smile on his lips, it was obvious the boy had been working out
with weights. It was equally obvious that he had entered puberty at least a year
ago; dark armpit hair sprouted from under his folded arms.

Swell, Tiffany thought to herself. Not only do I have to sit for this little
pervert, now he's in puberty, so his hormones are going to be raging even more.
Tiffany knew a fair amount about the raging hormones of teenaged boys. As she
stood in the driveway, she could see his eyes travel up and down her body, taking
in the long expanse of her bare legs, lingering on her short-shorts, which she
now regretted wearing, then up to her chest, those ample, 36C perfect teenaged
tits that thrust forward beneath the peasant blouse. The look made her
uncomfortable, much more uncomfortable than when Matt as a little boy had spied
on her.

She made herself speak. "Hey, Matt. Long time, no see." What a lame- o thing to
say, she thought. This was stupid, letting herself get flustered by a k** almost
four years younger than her.

The parents all gabbed while Tiffany carried in her bag. "Where am I sleeping?"
she asked Matt, since this was her first time in his new house.

"Where would you like to sleep?" Matt asked. Was he sneering, or being sincere?
Tiffany couldn't tell.

"Just tell me where to put my bag, please," she sighed.

"Top of the stairs, guest room at the end of the hall. Nice queen- sized bed,"
Matt told her. As she climbed the stairs, she thought she could feel Matt's
young, lustful gaze burning into the shorts that clung tightly to the sculpted
bubbles of her ass, but she didn't want to look back and give him the
satisfaction.

All too soon, her mom and dad were saying goodbye. They were going camping
overnight with Pete and Peggy, and would be back on Sunday. Peggy explained to
Tiffany that Matt was allowed to have friends over if they behaved themselves,
but that she was in charge and could set the rules as she saw fit. She also said
that they had bought a book of tickets to the Renaissance Festival that was
playing in a field outside town, and that she could drive Matt and his friends
there today if she wanted. Peggy handed Tiffany ten $20 bills for incidental
expenses, and with a flurry of waves and goodbyes, her aunt and uncle and parents
pulled away, leaving her alone with her cousin Matt.

"So, what you want to do, cuz?" Matt asked. Tiffany wished he would stop calling
her that.

"My name is Tiffany, Matthew. And right now I really don't feel like doing much
of anything. So you go off and play with yourself." She blushed as soon as the
words were out of her mouth. She had meant to say "play BY yourself," not WITH
yourself. But she wasn't going to tell him that. He shrugged and walked away.

Get a grip, girl, Tiffany told herself. He's still just a 13-year- old boy, even
though he has grown up physically. He's not even in high school yet, and you're a
rising senior. Plus his mom said that you're the one in charge. So settle down
and be in charge.

Tiffany decided she would go out to the pool that Pete and Peggy had put in the
back yard and work on her tan, so she went upstairs to the guest room where her
bag was. She closed the door and carefully locked it, but then decided she didn't
trust the lock while she was changing clothes, scooted a chair over and wedged it
against the door. That ought to keep the little pecker out, she thought with a
smile.

Tiffany had stripped off her clothes and underwear and was just tying the strings
that held her skimpy white bikini in place when she heard a blood-curdling scream
from somewhere downstairs. Only she and Matt were in the house, and it sounded as
if the boy was in horrible agony.

She quickly finished tying off the bikini and pushed the chair away from the
door. She could hear Matt screaming downstairs: "Owwwwww! Oh GODDDDDD!
Ohmigoddddd!"

She ran downstairs, following the sound, and quickly found Matt laying on the
kitchen floor, rolled tightly into a fetal position. His knees were up under his
chin, and his hands were pressed tightly into his lap. His face was red from the
screaming.

"What's the matter? What's the matter?" she yelled over his bellowing, trying to
be heard and trying not to panic. She'd been babysitting only about 10 minutes
and already the boy was hurt.

"Oh God, I hurt myself!" Matt said, huffing and puffing.

"How?" said Tiffany. "Matt, you have to tell me how you hurt yourself!"

"On the corner of the kitchen chair," Matt said. "I don't know how it happened.
But I racked myself, you know, I hit my, uh, crotch."

Shit, thought Tiffany. Swell.

"Oh Jesus God, it hurts so bad," Matt said. There were tears in his eyes as he
rolled on the floor in a tight fetal ball.

"Take a deep breath," Matt," she instructed. "It's going to be OK." She bent down
over the writhing boy, going down on her hands and knees on the kitchen floor.

"I think I broke it," Matt yelped.

"I don't think you can break it, Matt," she said, trying to be calm. Although she
had had quite an exposure to the male penis during her stint as a sex toy four
months ago, she really didn't know much about the technical aspects of the organ.
Could it be broken? She wasn't sure.

"I gotta go to the emergency room!' Matt cried. "Take me to the hospital,
Tiffany."

No way, she thought. That would only be the last possible resort, if there was
really something seriously wrong. She had no idea what kind of insurance her aunt
and uncle had, there would be forms to fill out, a zillion embarrassing questions
to answer, first at the hospital, and then even worse, from her aunt and uncle
and parents. She had to take care of Matthew herself.

The nervous 16-year-old steeled herself for what she was about to do. "Let me
look at it, Matt," she said. "I know it's embarrassing, but I have to see how bad
you're hurt."

Matt stayed in a tight ball.

"Come on, Matt, I have to look," Tiffany pleaded. "If it's really, uh, broken,
I'll take you to the emergency room, I promise."

Slowly the younger boy uncurled his body. His face was still red, and he was
breathing heavily. "OK," he told her, and his voice was trembling.

When Matt didn't make a move to pull down his gym shorts, Tiffany realized she
would have to. She hooked her hands into the waistband and gently lowered the
trunks, trying not to hurt him any more.

"Be careful," Matt whined. "Be gentle."

"I'm not gonna hurt you," she told her cousin. Down came the gym shorts, and
Tiffany was astonished to see he wasn't wearing underpants. Not only that, but
his cock was semi-hard. It wasn't as big as the men she had dealt with during the
school year, but it was a pretty decent length and width for a boy who had only
been in puberty for a year. She tried to be clinical as she looked at her
cousin's cock and think of it as just another part of his body.

"I think it's broken," Matt repeated. "You better check it, or else take me to
the emergency room."

The screaming and the confusion had set off Tiffany's adreanline. Her heart was
pounding and she was on the verge of hyperventilating herself, and the poor girl
didn't realize that she wasn't thinking clearly.

"Show me where it hurts," she told Matt, who immediately reached out and took her
right arm by the wrist and guided her hand to the base of his cock. "Right
there," he said. "See if it's broken. Give it a little squeeze."

Tiffany squeezed lightly, and felt the teenaged dick jump in her grip. She could
feel the blood pounding in the cock, just like the blood was pounding in her
head. She was so focused on what was happening that she did not realize that Matt
was now laying on his back looking straight up at her as she bent over him,
specifically right at her glorious tits as they heaved under the thin white
fabric of the bikini.

"It's higher," Matt told her, and Tiffany, still not fully cognizant of what was
going on, slid her grip up a little higher. She didn't know how it happened, but
somehow Matt had shifted his pelvis while she did it, and her hand slid all the
way up to the head of his cock, which was now as hard as an iron bar and steaming
hot to her touch.

"It still hurts, Tiffany," Matt said, his eyes locked on her perfect 16-year-old
breasts, which hung down just inches from his nose. "But I know you can make it
better."

Faster than the strike of a rattlesnake, Matt reached out a hand and wrapped it
around Tiffany's right hand, seizing it in an iron grip. With his other hand, he
reached up and plucked the front of her bikini top, pulling it up to her chin.
Instantly, her large tits popped free, practically right in her young cousin's
face.

"Whoa! Nice fuckin' tits, cuz!" the boy chortleded. He gripped her right hand
even harder and began to slide it up and down on his erection, which was jutting
straight up and pointed at her.

"You little bastard!" Tiffany screamed at her cousin. She couldn't believe what
was happening. One second she was worried about taking Matt to the hospital, and
the next second she was grappling with the horny boy, who was stronger than she
had expected.

"Let's see some pussy!" Matt shouted, and reached with his free left hand for the
string that tied the bottom of Tiffany's bikini alongside her hip. She had tied
it into a simple bow, and Matt now grabbed one loose end and pulled.

Tiffany had been trying to use her free left hand to pull her top back down over
her breasts, but it was nearly impossible. She had only the one hand free, and
with Matt gripping her right hand and writhing on the floor, she was off balance.
Plus her large tits were dangling down and swaying back and forth with the forced
motion of jacking her young cousin off. It was like trying to put two water
balloons into two lunch bags as the bags were being moved back and forth.

Then she felt the side of her bikini bottom spring loose, and knew that she was
in serious trouble. The boy might actually have **** on his mind, Tiffany
suddenly thought. She let go of her bikini top and reached down to grab the
bottom, which was now flapping loose on one side, threatening to expose her
teenaged pussy and ass to the hormone-addled boy who was trying to undress her.
It was like batting an octopus.

"Yeah, cuz, let's see that body you been hidin' on me!" Matt yelled. He increased
the speed of her hand on his hard dick, forcing her to jack up and down on his
young cock with a fast, fluid motion.

"Let me go, you little prick," Tiffany screamed at the boy. "I'm gonna kill you!"

"Oh yeah, cousin, make me cum! Here I cum!" shouted Matt, and suddenly his young
dick exploded, shooting semen upward at Tiffany. The entire wrestling match had
only taken a little more than a minute, but Matt was so young and so horny, and
Tiffany's handjob, even though not given willingly, was the first time he had
ever had a girl's hand on his penis. It hadn't taken long.

Tiffany was still on her knees bent over her cousin, and his cock started spewing
hot semen all over her. The first glob hit her right on the nipple, a big shot of
sticky, salty boy-cum. A second shot followed a split second later and hit her in
the right eye. More and more boy-cum poured out of his spurting cock, hitting her
on her tight, tanned little tummy, oozing into her sweet little belly-button,
landing in her beautiful blonde hair.

"You shit! You goddamn little shit!" Tiffany screamed at the boy. Suddenly Matt
broke free of her and rolled to one side, then bounced to his feet. He was
amazingly quick and agile, as well as strong.

"Jiz on my cuz! Jiz on my cuz!" the little monster began chanting in a hip-hop
style. "Lookit that ho, with jiz on her bod! Lookit that ho, just lookit that
ho!"

"I'll kill you!" Tiffany bellowed as she got to her feet and charged at her
cousin. Her bikini top was still above her breasts, although tied in back, and
her large tits flopped and bounced freely as she charged him. Her bikini bottom,
tied on only side, gaped to the side and down, showing a flash of the silky
blonde pubic patch it had tried to conceal. Matt laughed and kept up his white
boy rap, dancing just out of her reach.

"Jiz on the cuz! Jiz on the cuz!" he mocked her. He began running out of the
kitchen and toward the front of the house, and Tiffany, enraged, ready to really
give her young tormentor a genuine pain in the balls, followed.

As they approached the front hallway, the doorbell rang. Matt was making straight
for the door, and Tiffany, partly blind from the sperm in one eye and pumped on
her own anger and adrenaline, was only a few steps behind him, screaming like a
banshee. Matt ran right to the front door and flung it open.

There on the front porch stood three more teenaged boys about Matt's age. Their
mouths dropped open in astonishment when they looked over Matt's shoulder and saw
his 16-year-old babysitter, one of the sexiest girls they had ever seen (counting
men's magazines), only a few feet away from them. Strings and globs of semen
clung to her face, her hair and her body, her tits were completely exposed and
heaving up and down with her heavy breathing, and her bikini bottom flopped to
one side.

"Hey dudes!" Matt yelled at his friends. "Right on time! This is my cousin
Tiffany! And as you can see, you each owe me $10 bucks, cause I got her to jack
me off in the first hour she was here!"

The boys all rushed forward into the front hall to get a closer look at the
nearly naked, sperm-spattered teenage cheerleader, Tiffany suddenly realized her
position, and how badly she was outnumbered. She was still furious with Matt, but
realized she needed to get to safety quickly or what had been merely ugly could
get far worse in no time at all. She could see the lust and evil glittering in
the eyes of the three boys who had just come into the house.

She pushed past Matt and hit the stairs, bounding up them two at a time to the
guest room. Into the room, slam the door, push the heavy chair in front of the
door. It might not stop them, but it would slow them down. Panting, gasping for
air, standing in the middle of the room covered in sperm, she had not felt so
humiliated since her torture at the hands of the men of Daniels High School.

Downstairs, Matt and his friends walked into the kitchen and pulled cold sodas
from the refrigerator.

"Man, you were right. She is so fuckin' hot I can't believe it," said Luke

"So why aren't we going after her?" asked Mark.

"Hey, we got all fuckin' day and all fuckin' night with Miss Tiffany Daniels,"
Matt told his friends. "We're gonna have us the best 24 hours ever. And my
stuck-up cunt of a cousin is gonna have the worst 24 hours of her life. I
guarantee it."


* * *


CHAPTER TWO

THE ONE THAT GOES LIKE THIS:

" ... And I've got no defense for it
The heat is too intense for it
What good would common sense for it do
'Cause it's witchcraft, wicked witchcraft
And although, I know, it's strictly taboo
When you arouse the need in me
My heart says yes indeed in me
Proceed with what your leading me to..."

-- "Witchcraft" by Coleman and Leigh, as sung by Frank Sinatra


Tiffany stood in the middle of the room, her heart pounding. Rage filled her at
her young cousin and what he had just done to her. She went into the bathroom,
pulled Kleenexes roughly from the box, and began to wipe the sperm from her face
and body.

She took her swimsuit off the rest of the way to make sure she didn't miss any
globs hidden away; she had seen "Something About Mary" and didn't want a replay
of what had happened in that movie, even though the circumstances were completely
different. As she wiped away the disgusting clots of semen from her skin, she
began to think of what her next step would be.

Revenge was definitely high on her list, probably numbers one through ten, in
fact, but what could she do at this point? Little monster Matt had three teenaged
friends with him downstairs, and was surely giving them a blow by blow
description of what had just happened. To go down there and face him head on,
order him to apologize or attempt to discipline him was probably the worst
possible step to take. If she tried to turn him over her knee for a spanking,
even without his friends, he was strong enough now that it would be she who wound
up getting the spanking. A quick mental picture flashed through her mind, of her
bent over Matt's lap, her pants down around her ankles, and him giving her a
hard, open-handed spanking on her bare bottom. She shuddered.

No, something else was needed. She couldn't call Matt's parents or her own; they
were camping, without a phone. She thought of calling some of her friends to come
over, but what would she tell them? Her 13-year- old cousin was bullying her
around and she was wiping his sperm out of her eye? No, that was the last thing
she needed.

Then Tiffany remembered the Renaissance Festival. Aunt Peggy had bought a book of
tickets to the summertime event, which was taking place on weekends in a huge
open field not far away. If she could safely get Matt and his nasty little
friends into the car and out to the festival, they'd be in public and she'd be
safe with all the people around. They could stay at the festival all day, and
she'd deal with what to do in the evening when she got there.

Meanwhile, Matt had completed telling his young friends what he had just done to
his cousin the cheerleader. The boys were wide-eyed and drop-jawed. They had
talked about this, planned it even, but they hadn't really been sure that it
would happen. Now it was happening.

"Man, I can't believe we're doing this," said Johnny, a hulking 14- year-old who
had been held back a year in school and thus was still in eighth grade with the
others. "This fuckin' rocks!"

"You know it, man," said Mark. "Now all we got to do is get her to that
Renaissance Festival for Stage Two. How we gonna do that?"

"I haven't figured that out yet," admitted Matt. "But I'm kinda hoping that she
won't want to spend the day here in the house with us, after what just happened.
So we'll get to Stage Two somehow, I bet. By the way, did you guys bring the
stuff we talked about?"

They all nodded and pointed to their backpacks slung in a corner. "And we've all
got permission to spend th night!" said Johnny.

"Quiet, I think I hear her coming," said Luke, the fourth member of the perverted
little posse of teen boys.

Tiffany came down the stairs slowly, nervously. She had dressed as demurely and
modestly as she could, but it was summer in Texas, and she hadn't been expecting
this turn of events. The best she could do was to get back into the white peasant
blouse and shorts she had worn over earlier. She had no jeans, no long pants, and
no dresses packed. She had pulled her beautiful long blonde hair back into a
ponytail and put on no makeup in hopes of looking dowdy for the boys.

Fat chance. Tiffany Daniels was a stunning 16-year-old girl, as every male from 9
to 90 knew instantly upon seeing her. Her luscious teenaged body had just ripened
into full womanly curves, and her face, with its pouty-lipped, pubescent beauty,
was frequently compared to that of the teen tennis star Anna Kournikova.

"Matt, may I see you alone a moment?" Tiffany called nervously.

"Sure, Tiffany," Matt answered. Now was the time to play his babysitting cousin
just right, the boy thought, and that meant as little attitude as possible.

Tiffany didn't know what to say about what Matt had just done to her, so she
decided not to say anything. "Do you want to go to the Renaissance Festival?" she
asked. "You and your friends?"

"Well, yeah, I guess," Matt said. "Sure. When did you want to go?"

"No time like right now!" Tiffany said brightly. "Tell your friends to get in
your mom's car and we'll go." Matt ran into the kitchen to talk to his friends,
and Tiffany went out and started the car.

Soon the boys piled out of the house and into the Ford Taurus, Matt up front,
"shotgun!," and his three friends in back. "Hey guys, this is my cousin,
Tiffany," Matt called out, matter-of-factly. "Tiffany, this is Luke, Mark, and
the guy on the right is Johnny, although sometimes we call him Little John."

"Like in Robin Hood?" Tiffany asked.

The boys looked at each other, puzzled, then burst out laughing. "Yeah, right,
Tiff, whatever you say," Matt said, mockingly. Tiffany didn't get the joke. She
would, of course, later in the day.

"Yo! What's up, Tiff?" said Luke.

Tiffany bristled. She hated it when dumb little white boys from the suburbs, rich
white boys, pretended to be homeys from the hood, hated them wearing their jeans
falling down off their ass and talking about their posses and their cribs. She
wanted to bitch-slap them all. But she just gripped the steering wheel tighter,
and drove.

A half hour later they were turning into the open field that served as a parking
lot. Normally, Tiffany wouldn't have wanted to go to something geeky like a
Renaissance Festival - she was way too cool for such events now, unless a really
cute older boy had asked her, maybe. She had been with a group of friends several
years ago, though, and she knew the basic routine. A mock "village," meant to
represent 16th century England or Europe usually, was built in a big field.
Performers were hired, some local, and some parts of touring groups who travelled
the country, to put on shows and act as if they were really in 16th century
England. There'd be a king, a queen, a jester, a dark knight, a lot of peasants,
a soothsayer, etc., on and on. Part of the "fun" for the suburbanites who paid
$15 a head to get in was to interact with the actors as if the whole scene were
really 16th century England instead of the United States in 1999. Staying in
character was crucial for the players.

Oh well, thought Tiffany. At least I can let the boys go off and watch jousting
and magic shows, and I can wander around safely in the crowd for most of the day.
I'll be safe.

The sun was beating down harsh already at 11 a.m. as Tiffany and her four young
charges went through the main gates and down the "main street" of the festival.
It was hot, and getting hotter.

"Listen up, guys," she told Matt and his obnxious friends. "We'll meet back here
at the entrance at 5 p.m. Here's $20 each for food and drink. Don't get sunburned
and stay out of trouble."

"Gee, cuz, are you trying to get rid of us?" Matt asked. "I thought we could pal
around together." He was mocking her, and Tiffany fought down the urge to smack
the punk.

"Oh, you don't want to hang out with me," Tiffany said. As soon as the words were
out of her mouth, a horse and rider trotted by. The horse was black, and the
young man astride the b**st was clad all in black too, with a black goatee, a
feathered cap atop his head and a sword and scabbard dangling from his waist. He
looked at the boys, and Little John gave a nod. Tiffany saw the boy nod and
thought it was odd. She looked up quickly at the man on the horse and thought she
saw him nod as well. But he wheeled and rode off, and just like that, the boys
were all saying, "OK, whatever. See ya back here at five. They walked off in a
pack, giggling, appearing to share some secret joke.

Half an hour later, the gorgeous blonde cheerleader had found a patch of shade
and was sipping a lemonade. Although she was lightly tanned, she knew that the
fierce Texas sun today would burn her badly if she stayed in the sun for long,
and she hadn't brought sunscreen. Suddenly a shadow fell over her. She looked up
and saw the dark man on his dark horse. He dismounted gracefully.

"Good day, fair lady," he said in the speech that all the Renaissance players
affected. "What is a beautiful maiden like you doing all alone, if I may be so
bold?"

Tiffany was flattered. He was darkly handsome, and his eyes sparkled. She guessed
him to be in his early 20s, just old enough to be dangerous but not old enough to
be gross and middle-aged.

"Kind sir," she replied, trying to mimic the speech, "I am just enjoying my
drink. I'm afraid if I stay in the sun too long my skin will burn."

"That would be a terrible shame, to see such fair skin burned. Art thee alone?"

"It's a long story," Tiffany answered. "And a boring one. What's your name?"

"I am Sir Reginald. Some call me the dark knight, but I'm really a pretty good
guy when I'm not playing dress-up." He broke character and smiled warmly at her.
"Seriously," he continued, now speaking regularly, "if you're just trying to get
out of the sun, come back to where the performers hang out. We can only stand to
be out for 30 minutes at a time in these damn outfits." He laughed, and Tiffany
joined him.

Sure, the young beauty said, she'd love to see where the performers hung out. It
would be like a backstage tour or something, she thought, and anything beat just
hanging around in the heat for six hours trying to avoid her cousin and his
little brat friends. Before she knew it, Sir Reginald had swept her onto his
horse, mounted in front of her, and galloped off toward the permieter of the
festival. He aimed the horse for a gap in the fence where a sign read "NO EXIT -
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" and shot through it.

"Here we are, my lady," he said, all formal again. "But I forgot to ask your
name."

"Tiffany."

"Very good, Lady Tiffany, step inside please."

The tent was dark. Very dark, Tiffany realized. And no sooner had that
realization struck her than she felt several sets of hands grabbing her, and
realized she was surrounded by bodies. Large male bodies. She could smell their
sweat and bro, and feel their muscles as they grabbed her. Her arms were pulled
roughly behind her back and held there firmly, and as soon as she started to
scream for help, a hairy hand was clapped firmly over her mouth.

"Jesus, Reg, you sure can pick 'em!" a voice exclaimed. "What a beauty!"

"She wasn't random," Reg replied. "This was, shall we say, a special order."

"Man, I hate to waste this one on the usual stuff," said a third voice. "I'd like
to strip this one down, oil her up and give her ye olde stake, if you know what I
mean!" The young men all laughed.

"Naw, come on, man, you know the rules. A little fun and games is one thing, but
no gang ****. Although if I were ever gonna break the rules, it would be with
Tiffany here. Look at them fuckin' tits!"

Tiffany struggled, but it was no use. She was held firmly. Suddenly, the hand was
withdrawn from her mouth, and she opened it to scream, again. But in a split
second the hand was replaced by cloth, some sort of gag. She was being gagged!
She tried to kick out against her assailants, but there were too many of them,
and they had strength and numbers and even experience at doing this on her. The
cloth on the gag was wrapped around a thick stick, about six inches long, so it
stuck out either side of her mouth. Quickly one of the men wrapped another piece
of cloth around the back of her head and tied off both ends of the stick tightly.
She tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled moan. No one would be
able to understand a word the poor girl was saying.

"Let's get it on, guys," Reg said, and Tiffany felt herself being stripped of her
clothes. Off came the peasant blouse, the shorts, her sandals, and finally her
bra and panties. She was stark naked, and could feel one of the sets of hands
roaming over her pussy, while another one squeezed her large nipples. A finger
tip inserted itself into her pussy, only an inch or so, and she screamed like a
madwoman, but all that came out was "MMpppfffff!!"

"Man, I hate to pass on this one!" she heard, the same voice of the guy who had
wanted to **** her.

"Yeah, and get arrested and convicted of a felony, dickwad!" Reg barked back.
"Stick to the plan, and even if she presses charges, we just say Hey, it was all
part of the Festival, we didn't know she was gonna freak out over a fun little
game."

Tiffany felt her hands pulled roughly over her head, and some sort of garment
being lowered over her. Simultaneously, strong hands grabbed her ankles and
started tying rope to them. She had never felt so helpless and powerless, even
when she was being abused by the men back at Daniels High School!

The garment, which she couldn't see because of the darkness in the small tent,
was horribly scratchy as they lowered it over her skin. She tried to figure out
what it was, and realized it must be burlap. They were dressing her in a burlap
bag, and she was naked underneath. All as preparation for some sort of horrible
game! Her mind was spinning with anxiety and panic.

The burlap "dress" was sleeveless, and the sides were cut low, so that the sides
of her bare breasts were partly visible, or would be when she was back outside.
It hung only a few inches below her crotch and ass, and her legs were bare. She
tried to kick again, and realized they had tied her ankles together with a rope,
leaving about two feet of play in the rope: enough to shuffle along, but not
enough to run if she were able to break away. They then tied her wrists behind
her back with another short length of rope, which pulled her arms back and forced
her to thrust her tits out. The nipples made contact with the awful burlap, and
the harsh fabric irritated the sennstive nubbins.

She felt someone put something else over head, on some sort of string. Finally,
she heard, "OK, guys, it's show time!:"

The rope tying her wrists was yanked, and Tiffany stumbled forward. In a few
short steps, she was outside the tent, back in the hard Texas sunlight, blinking
rapidly and trying to get her bearings. She looked around and saw four of the
Renaissance Players, including Reg. One man was leading her by the rope around
her wrists, like a dog on a leash. They went back through the opening of the
fence and into the fairgrounds. She was barefoot, but fortunately the grass was
soft on the soles of her feet.

'HEAR YE1 HEAR YE1 HEAR YE!" one of the men started bellowing at the top of his
lungs. "All persons wishing to see what happens to lascivious young women, please
follow us to the Town Square! We have here a prize strumpet, a whore, who has
been caught seducing the young son of our good king. Even worse, we think she may
be a witch! She will be made to pay! Come one! Come all!"

Everyone at the festival was staring at her. She tried to shout, to protest, but
all that came through the gag was another mumbled "Mmmmmpfffff!" She shook her
head wildly, and her blonde hair flew around her shoulders, but this just made
the gathering crowd laugh. It struck her that everyone else thought she was one
of the players, a part of the show, instead of an innocent girl who had been
k**napped.

The men continued to pull Tiffany relentlessly through the grounds. She stumbled
with her ankles tied, but managed to walk. A large crowd, mostly male, was
trailing behind her and the men, yelling comments like "Yeah, get the whore!
Punish her! We want to see some punishment!" Several of the men were carrying
large beers and appeared to be drunk, even before noon.

Finally they got to the Town Square, and Tiffany's stomach turned a flip flop
when she was what was there: two sets of old-fashioned stocks, the kind she had
seen in history books about the Puritans. Oh God, she realized, they were going
to put her in the stock in front of this drunken, cheering crowd of men! The
panicky teenager happened to glance down at this point and read (upside down,
from her vantage) the sign they had hung around her neck. It read: For Unlawful
Carnal Knowledge. Each capital letter was large and emphasized.

"Up you go, strumpet!" ordered Sir Reginald, and he lifted her onto the raised
platform that held the stocks. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted. "This woman
has been found guilty of sexual crimes against the crown! Plus, there is evidence
that she is a witch! She will be punished. Do you want us to show mercy, or no
mercy?"

"NO MERCY!" screamed the mob. Tiffany scanned their faces. There were only two or
three women, and they were looking uncomfortable at this display. They turned to
leave. Everyone left seemed to be male, from teenagers to middle-aged men in
shorts and black socks and sandals, cameras around their necks, beers in hand.
Many had probably come to the festival grudgingly, but now the day was looking a
whole lot brighter. This young wench they'd gotten to play the strumpet looked
really terrified. What a great actress!

Tiffany tried to break free, but strong hands forced her to her knees. Her head
was pulled forward, and the heavy wooden top half of the front stock dropped into
place and locked firmly. She tried to pull back, but she was trapped. Her hands
were still bound behind her back, and she realized that bent over like this, the
top of her burlap garment was hanging down so that the men in the front row had a
good look at her tits. Two men pulled out camcorders and started taping the
proceedings.

Hands grabbed her ankles and jerked back, and she felt her ankles being locked
into a second set of stocks behind her. These were smaller and lower, and they
immobilized her lower legs. She was a prisoner, at the mercy of these men for
whatever their cruel game was.

"Behold the witch!" shouted one of her captors. Tiffany screamed and shook her
head frantically, and the crowd just laughed. "Looks more like a bitch than a
witch!" yellled a spectator. "Yeah, and a pretty little bitch witch at that!"
said another man, setting off another wave of laughter.

"Gentlemen, please!" said Sir Reginald, holding up his hand for quiet. "We have
ways of dealing with wanton young witches like this one. She will be punished for
practicing witchcraft and her lascivious ways. Her time has come!"

Tiffany felt a captor bend over and attach something to the hem of the burlap
gown. It hung down just barely over her ass cheeks, preserving her modesty by
only an inch of fabric. But her long legs were bare, she knew, and her tits were
partially on view. She had already noticed tell- tale bulges in the pants of
several of the men watching, and she was ashamed to know that her plight was
making them hard.

She shifted her weight, and heard a bell ring. They had clipped a bell to the hem
of her dress, and it dangled down over the backs of her thighs, for reasons she
did not understand yet.

She was about to. Soon she heard a strange sound coming from behind her, and the
crowd started to roar. "Meehhhh-hehhh," went the sound. What the hell? thought
Tiffany. It sounds like a goat!

"Gentlemen, hear me out!" said Reginald. "This wanton little whore is guilty of
witchcraft and much more. While some might burn her at the stake or drown her, we
have a less, uh, permanent plan. Our little witch will have the soles of her feet
licked by this goat. If she can stay perfectly still for one minute without
making the bell ring, she will be set free. But every time the bell rings, we
start over again. Are we ready to begin!"

"Yes!" shouted the crowd. Some seemed a little disappointed, thinking maybe the
goat was going to fuck the poor victim, but then they remembered where they were,
and that their wives and c***dren could wander up at any minute, not to mention a
cop. Oh, well.

A captor pulled out a large jar of honey and brushed the souls of Tiffany's feet
with the sweet goo. Then they set an hour-glass, timed for one minute, on the
stocks next to Tiffany's head. There was a pause for a second, and then she felt
it.

The goat's tongue made contact with the cheerleader's naked sole, and she jumped.
Instantly the bell rang. The goat was pulled back on its rope leash, the glass
was tilted so the sand ran back, and it was set up again. Again the a****l's
tongue began to lick, and again she jumped.

The crowd was loving it, laughing and pointing. Several camcorders were going
now, recording her humiliation. One man in front seemed to be zooming in
exclusively on her large breasts as they jerked and swayed under the burlap.

Tiffany had never been partciularlly ticklish, but the goat's tongue on her bare
foot was unlike anything she had ever felt. The a****l's tongue was rough and
harsh, it was dry and wet at the same time, and when he dragged his tongue along
her sole, slurping up honey, it was the most maddening tickling she had ever
felt. Every time the goat even touched her foot, it would jerk, and the bell
attached to her would jingle.

"Boy, folks, looks like we could be here all day!' announced Sir Reginald with a
grin. "Of course, maybe our little witch likes her punishment, and she's trying
to prolong it!" The mob whooped and hollered, and Tiffany shook her head,
no-no-no-no, and screamed into the cloth-wrapped gag, which only made the crowd
whoop more.

The tormented cheerleader was sweating profusely in the heat, and the sweat on
her skin as the burlap rubbed against it itched horribly. With her hands bound
behind her back she was unable to scratch. Her ordeal looked as if it would
stretch on forever. The public humiliation was more than she could bear. This was
even worse than what had happened in the mall a few months ago, she thought. This
was so demeaning, so degrading, so public.

She tried holding her breath as she felt the goat's tongue carress her foot
again. Up and down swiped the a****l tongue, up and down, lapping up honey, and
the sensations raced up her legs, and straight to her brain, although strangely
they also went right through her pussy, which also felt as if it were being
tickled. A horrible image flashed through her mind, of Sir Reginald lifting her
burlap dress and letting the a****l bury its nasty snout in her exposed pussy and
lick away at her. The thought was appalling, but also made her damp between her
legs, and not with sweat. She forced it from her mind. Just then the goat
switched feet and attacked her left foot for the first time, its tongue making
contact with her naked toes, and Tiffany nearly jumped out of her skin.
Tinkle-tinkle went the bell, and the crowd laughed and pointed.

Tiffany scanned their grotesque faces, and realized she was probably just as
grotesque, in a different way. Sweat was streaming down her face, her beautiful
blonde hair was damp and matted, and her face had to be beet red by now with the
sun and the screaming. She always prided herself on her looks and her grooming,
and here she was, bordering on ugly! She had to get control of herself and of the
situation.

As she looked into the crowd from her pinned-down position, she suddenly gasped
into the gag. Was that Stephanie, her sister, way back there in the crowd of men,
peeking through and smiling? It coudn't be. She blinked, and the girl was gone.
It had to have been a mirage. Her parents were off camping, and Stephanie was
spending the weekend at a friend's house; it would be too much of a coincidence
for Steph to show up right at this moment of Tiffany's utter embarrassment.

But it wasn't a coincidence when she saw Matt and his friends. There they were,
the little bastards, hanging out on the fringe, laughing at her! Ooh, she'd kill
them when she got free! And then it hit her. She'd been set up! Reginald has said
something back in the tent about a "special order," and Little John or whatever
his name was had nodded at Reginald earlier in the day when he was standing with
Tiffany. Somehow, the boys had conspired with Reginald and the Renaissance actors
to bring her to this point. She was furious, and her body strained against the
confining stocks. But of course, all that did was set the little bell tinkling
again. Reginald upended the hour-glass, let the sand shift, and turned it over
for another minute.

The goat attacked Tiffany's bare foot with relish, licking between her tender
toes, running his nasty tongue everywhere. She concentrated on holding her feet
motionless, but the teasing tickling of the goat was too much, she couldn't bear
it, and she jerked her feet away, ringing the bell again.

"Whoa, methinks this is never going to end!" said Sir Reginald jovially, and the
crowd cheered again. "Time for a fresh coat of honey!" And she felt more honey
being spread over her feet.

So it went, for almost an hour. The goat was single-minded, relentless. It was a
machine, programmed to lick honey from her bare feet. And no matter what she did,
Tiffany could not suppress her relfexes. She screamed into the gag in rage and
frustration as the humiliation grond on and on. Her sweat-soaked nipples kept
rubbing against the burlap as they swung to and fro, and they were beginning to
chafe. Sweat ran down her face and down her thighs. Flies began buzzing around
the honey, but the goat's non-stop licking chased them off. The flies decided
they liked the sweat on Tiffany's tender thighs, and landed there. The feeling of
the flies crawling on her bare skin was more than she could bear, but every time
she wiggled her thighs to try to dislodge the flies, the bell would ring and she
would have to start all over again.

She could see Matt, Mark, Luke and Little John enjoying themselves in the crowd.
All four boys had erections bulging the fronts of their jeans cut-offs, little
pup-tents pointing straight at her, taunting her like everything else was in this
horrid place.

"I think our little witch-bitch is getting too hot!" Sir Reginald announced to
the crowd. "Even though I'm not inclined to show mercy, perhaps I can cool her
off!" Tiffany felt the evil man grab the hem of the burlap dress that hung down a
little below her ass and lift it up. He began a fanning motion with the dress,
lifting it up and down quickly. Yes, it was circulating some air up under the
burlap, which felt exquisite, but he was also exposing her bare ass to the entire
Festival. Reginald looked down, as if unaware of what he had been doing, and put
on a pop-eyed face, as if just discovering he was showing off Tiffany naked from
the waist down.

The crowd in front quickly realized the best view was now from behind, and
stampeded around the platform to get a better look. Reginald timed it perfectly
and dropped the burlap just as they got into their news positions.

"Sorry, gentlemen, but even a witch-bitch has to maintain some modesty. Did you
know" - and he dropped his voice into a loud stage whisper - "Did know she isn't
wearing any undergarments!!!"

The men yelled and surged forward. The goat, frightened by the tumult, stopped
licking and pulled on the rope around its collar. Tiffany tried to turn to look,
but the stocks kept her face pointing forward.

"Show us! Show us Show us!" the mob chanted.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Sir Reginald spoke. "I am sorry, but the Renaissance
Festival is, after all, a family affair. Apparently our young actress here was
even more into the part than my friends and I realized, and decided not to wear
underwear under her dress today. Apparently she was really in character all
along!" he chortled.

"And even though she never did manage one minute of stillness, there comes a
point when we must move on to other events. How about a big round of applause for
our little witch-bitch today, who was so in character she underwent her torment
without any panties!"

The men cheered lusilty, as Tiffany burned with shame. Reginald and the others
unlocked the stocks and led the goat away. She was so stiff from being locked in
a kneeling position for an hour that her muscles ached when she tried to stand.
She glared at the men and tried to tell them they were worthless scum, that she
was an unwilling victim, but all that came out from behind the gag was the same
incoherent gibberish she'd been shouting for an hour now.

Quickly, Sir Reginald grabbed her around the waist, swung one leg up over his
horse, and the two of them were astride the horse, Reginald sitting and Tiffany
laying over his lap, her ass in the air. The burlap dress ballooned up to her
waist, and she was naked from the waist down, her sweet white teen buttocks on
display for the crowd's enjoyment. One last cheer of lust arose from the weary
men as Sir Reginald galloped away, holding the sqirming, humiliated girl firmly
in his grip.


* * *


CHAPTER THREE

THE ONE THAT GOES LIKE THIS:

"Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip ... sunscreen would be it."

‹ From Baz Luhrmann's "Everybody's Free (To Wear Suncreen)," originally written by
Mary Schmich.


Tiffany's knuckles were white with anger as she gripped the steering wheel of the
Taurus, zipping it down the highway well above the speed limit. In the backseat,
her cousin's friends Luke, Little John and Mark were giggling and punching each
other. Matt hummed quietly in the shotgun seat beside her.

The 16-year-old beauty just wanted to get as far away from the Renaissance
Festival as possible, and as fast as possible. Get back to Aunt Peggy and Uncle
Paul's house and take a bath, to wash the degradation off her skin, not to
mention the pungent smell of goat off her feet.

After her public humiliation in the stocks at the festival, Tiffany had been
carried back to the tent where she'd been stripped by Sir Reginald. There she
found her clothes, and as she dressed, she attacked the young man verbally.

"You sick bastard!" she had yelled at him. "I'm going to have you arrested, you
perverted asshole! My daddy is a city councilman in Beverly, and my family is
rich and powerful, and they'll see that you and your friends are thrown in jail
with homosexual r****ts!"

Sir Reginald laughed in her face, which enraged her even further. "Take a chill
pill, little Tiffany," he had said calmly. "When you calm down, you'll see that
nothing really that bad happened to you. You weren't physically hurt, you weren't
m*****ed. You just had a goat licking your feet for a little while, that's all.
If you insist on having us arrested, my lawyer will just find one of the guys who
was taping the whole performance. We can play the tape in open court and let the
judge or jury decide, sweetheart. I'm sure a jury would love to see you having
your feet licked by a goat. And your family sitting in the courtroom, I'm sure
they'd enjoy it, too."

"Fuck you!" Tiffany hissed. Dammit, he was probably right, but she wasn't about
to admit that. Finally dressed back in her peasant blouse and shorts, she had
stomped out of the tent, with Sir Reginald's harshe laughter ringing in her ears.

When she re-entered the Renaissance grounds, she was immediately aware of people
staring and whispering. At one point she passed a group of middle-aged man who
yelled "Hey, it's the witch bitch!" and burst out laughing. Her face hot with
shame, Tiffany stomped past them, not giving them the pleasure of a response. She
found Matt and his asshole-buddies still hanging around the Town Square, the
scene of her public humiliation.

"Come on!" she barked. "We're going. NOW!"

"Jeez, Tiff, what happened?" Matt said, his voice full of concern. "Did you
volunteer for that thing in the stocks? That was kinda cool!" His friends all
wore shit-eating grins.

"I did NOT volunteer, and you know it. You set me up. Now come on, we are outta
here. This second!"

She walked away, and the four boys followed her. Now they were in the car, headed
back to the house.

"So how did it feel?" she heard one of the youngsters say in back, Luke she
thought.

"I'm not going to talk about it," Tiffany snapped. "And neither are you. Just
shut up. I know you guys arranged that somehow."

"Who, us?" they all chorused, their voices full of outraged innocence. "Really,
we don't know what you're talking about." The car was quiet for a moment, and
then the back seat exploded with laughter, and the boys were digging their elbows
into each other's ribs and squirming.

"I've got news for you little shits," Tiffany said. "When we get home, I'm
calling your parents and telling them I'm not feeling well, and would they please
come pick you up. You'll be gone. Then it'll be just me and Matt, and buster, you
are going to toe the line with me. I'm in charge, and you're gonna know it"

"Ooh, cuz, I like it when you get all rough and tough," Matt said, mocking her
again. "I think my cuz is crackin' down on us, guys."

They pulled into the driveway and the boys tumbled out of the car and ran to the
house, Matt unlocking the front door with his own house key. Tiffany followed,
dashed up the stairs to the guest room, locked the door, and picked up the phone
to start calling.

Instead of a dial tone, she heard the bleeps and burbles of a computer modem
connection to the Internet. She toggled the phone switch, but kept getting the
same sound. She couldn't call out. The little bastard had managed to get onto the
Net before she could call out.

"Matthew!" she called, cracking the door a bit. "Get off the computer so I can
use the phone!" Silence. No reply. "Matthew!" Silence. "Answer me!" Silence.

Then the beleaguered cheerleader heard something much worse than silence. She
heard her own voice. "I am 16, going on 17, I know that I'm naive..."

No, she thought. It couldn't be. But she knew, with a sick feeling, that it was.
The video that Mr. White and the others had made of her one night in the back of
the car on the way to the mall, when they had made her sing the song "I am 16
going on 17" from "The Sound of Music" over and over. How had Matt gotten the
video? And was it the whole video, the one the teachers had made of her in all
sorts of humiliating and sexual encounters to blackmail her with? Oh God. Her
world was crashing down around her. If Matt had that video, and was watching it
with his friends, it meant they would probably try to blackmail her as well.

She would not go back there, she swore. She had escaped being a sexual victim of
Mr. White and his ugly gang of middle-aged perverts, and she certainly would not
submit to her cousin and his 13-year-old friends. Blind with fury, she charged
down the stairs into the living room, and there were all four boys watching her
on a big screen TV set. The image was of her in the back seat of Mr. White's SUV,
her large naked breasts heaving, the nipples erect, singing her fool head off.

"Give me that tape, you worthless little scumbag!" Tiffany bellowed at her
cousin.

Matt hit pause on the remote and looked at her calmly. "Come and get it, cuz," he
said ominously.

Tiffany strode across the room to the VCR and hit the eject button. "Get her,
boys!" Matt called, and all four of them jumped up and moved toward Tiffany.

The baby-sitter dropped the tape and ran, realizing that she was really in
trouble now. She hit the front door and dashed into the front yard, the four boys
hot on her heels. She rounded the house, headed toward the back, not knowing
where she was going, just trying to get away.

"Oomph!" the air was knocked out of her, and she hit the ground. She had been
tackled by one of the boys, and instantly all four were swarming all over her
prone body. Tiffany Daniels fought like a wildcat, kicking and trying to bite
them, pulling at their hair. But she was no match for four strong boys,
particularly when one of them was as burly as Little John, who must have weighed
180 pounds. In a manner of seconds she was on her stomach in the grass, with John
siting on her back, crushing the air out of her. Luke had her arms pinned down,
and her legs kicked helplessly, hitting nothing.

Matt ran back into the house and re-appeared in seconds. He bent over his
writhing teenaged cousin and snapped a pair of handcuffs onto her wrists, locking
them together. Tiffany screamed.

"Go ahead and scream, cuz," Matt told her coldly. "There's no one around for
miles. No one can hear you. OK, guys, let's get to work." He moved quickly to her
ankles and snapped a second pair of handcuffs into place. She was helpless, at
the mercy of the boys.

They hoisted her into the air, all of them carrying her, back into the yard, and
into the pool area. They laid her handcuffed body onto a chaise lounge made of
rubber slats, lifted her hands above her head and used yet another set of cuffs
to fasten her hands to the wrought iron fence that surrounded the pool. They
dragged two concrete block on either side of the lounger, looped rope through the
concrete blocks, and fastened the rope to the cuffs on her ankles. Then they
unlocked the set of cuffs to her ankles and replaced them with two sets, so that
each of the cheerleader's slim ankles was now cuffed and tied to a heavy concrete
block. Finally they pulled the blocks to the sides, away from the lounger, so she
was spread-eagled.

The boys were huffing and puffing as they looked at their prize captive. Tiffany
Daniels, their babysitter who only a few minutes before was going to assert her
authority, was now helpless. Her arms were stretched painfully tight above her
head wi