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After dinner was over, Cathy returned to the problem at hand, how to explain the Nudist Club concept to a group of people. Should they do it as an initiation? Like a sorority? She remembered her fiancée telling her about the hazing he went through as a plebe. They discussed strategies and methods over coffee.

They had most of the details worked out when Cathy said she needed to get home so she could finish grading some papers she needed to hand back the next day. June offered to drive her and Kim rode along.

"Just drop me at the school," Cathy said.

"But it's no trouble to take you all the way," June told her. "I'd be happy to, really."

"No, thank you. I had decided to walk home from school when you invited me to dinner. I need to keep that commitment to myself."

"I understand. We'll drop you just where we picked up. Enjoy your walk. I know this is a big change for you. Call me later if you need someone to talk to. The kids have each other to confide in."

"Why thanks! I appreciate your concern. You're right, of course, it's going to take some getting used to, but I think this is mostly something I'm going to have to work out in my head. I understand that the law says I'm allowed to be naked, and I even think I've grasped the reason why I need to do this, but something inside me still tells me it's wrong. That's the part I need to work on. I'm starting to suspect that may be just the tip of the iceberg, too."

When June pulled up in front of the school, Cathy hopped out and closed the door behind her to forestall any protracted goodbyes. She was having butterflies about walking through downtown in her birthday suit and she wanted to get started before she changed her mind. She waved to June and Kim and started off down the street, wearing only her shoes and carrying a small purse and a binder with her lesson plans in it.

Outside, alone on the sidewalk, Cathy started to become aware of something she had never been exposed to before. She described it for her own benefit as her 'micro-environment'. It was the effect that her immediate surroundings had on her naked skin. The small air movements around her legs as she walked. The warm air rising from a sidewalk grate. But for her sturdy shoes, it would have included the gritty feel of concrete on the soles of her feet.

"I never realized how much clothes insulate us from the world around us," she thought. "Being naked, I'm so much more aware of my surroundings. It's like my somatic radar has been uncovered and I can perceive things now that I couldn't before."

As she walked on toward her apartment, she became more involved with the potential for sensations that she wouldn't have thought about before. As she came close to a postbox, she could feel the big metal object as a physical presence, radiating away the heat that it had captured from sitting in the sun all day.

It was well past sunset and about half of the few streetlights that the city had been willing to fund were on. The rest looked to Cathy like they had burned out and needed to have their bulbs replaced. The effect was to cast a dim yellow-orange light over the empty streets and closed storefronts, creating deep shadows in the alleys and cross-streets. In point of fact, some of the streetlights had been shot out with an air-rifle to produce exactly that effect.

Some of the inhabitants of those shadows weren't very nice people. Two of them were prowling the alleys at that moment. Like unpaid and unwelcome watchmen, they were checking for unlocked doors and windows where a jimmy might be used to slip a latch or break a lock without making too much noise.

"Fuck!" Pete swore under his breath as another door failed to yield to his rattling. The swearing was a constant habit, one he had acquired during his first stay in the county juvenile facility that had been his home for five of his last 18 years. Another bad habit that he had picked up during the last year involved illegal drugs and this was the reason that he and his friend were out looking for anything he could steal and sell or trade to buy the drugs that his habit demanded.

His companion on this nocturnal foraging expedition was named Bung. Pete didn't know if Bung had a last name and frankly didn't care. The two had hooked up in the juvie home and quickly become inseparable. It would be more correct to say that Bung had become indispensable to Pete, since Bung's 6'6", 280 lb. size and indifference to pain, received or given, meant he was the last person you wanted to tangle with. Pete had cultivated Bung's friendship for the sole purpose of having a protector, an investment that had produced satisfactory returns on several memorable occasions. When Pete thought of his relationship with Bung, it was more in terms of having an over-sized guard dog that required regular feeding and occasional playtimes.

It would be misleading to say that Pete was the brains and Bung was the brawn of the team, since Pete's IQ didn't rise into the high double-digits. It was sufficient to Pete that he was several points above Bung and that Bung thought of him as the leader.

"Wanna break a window?" Bung asked. Bung liked smashing things, but never managed to foresee the consequences.

"No, dumbass! That'll bring the heat. There could be alarms and shit, or someone might hear and drop a dime on us. Just be cool. We'll find something. Don't I always come through for us?"

He didn't always come through, but Bung wasn't capable of citing chapter and verse on the times that he hadn't. Bung barely remembered yesterday. Anything prior to that, he just referred to as 'before'. Bung lived completely in the moment. If he wasn't sleepy or hungry or horny, he was happy. At the moment, he enjoyed being entertained by Pete's scurrying from one potential point of entry to another like a mouse after a bit of cheese it can smell, but can't locate.

The pair of thugs had almost reached the mouth of the alley when the clop of Cathy's leather-soled oxfords reached their ears. Alertly, Pete jumped behind the closest dumpster and pulled Bung into the shadows with him. Both peered cautiously around the edge of the metal container to see if the approaching footfalls belonged to a watchman on his rounds, or a potential mugging victim. Pete was experienced enough to know that the city police never pounded beats on foot, they just cruised by in their patrol cars and shone spotlights into suspicious shadows before driving on to the next block.

The sight of Cathy strolling past the alley entrance stunned both of them into immobility. The dim light from a streetlight a half-block away silhouetted her nubile form and highlighted her pale skin, making her loveliness as unmistakable as her nudity. She was out of sight before either Pete or Bung caught their breath.

"Did you see that?" Bung asked, not willing to admit to a possible hallucination without confirmation. Pete had humiliated him before for pointing out things that, because Pete hadn't seen them, didn't exist and were explained away as figments of an imagination that Bung utterly lacked.

Pete swallowed before answering, "Yeah, I saw it. But I don't fucking believe it." He slipped out of his hiding place and eased up to the concrete cornice of the building at the end of the alley. He slowly peered left and right, checking for signs of a trap before sticking his head out of the shadow far enough to see Cathy walking along the deserted sidewalk. He stared, transfixed, at her pert rear and the dimples in it as she walked along, oblivious to his presence. To Pete, she might as well have been carrying a sign saying, "Rape Me".

He was so fixated on the vision of such a blatantly available target of opportunity that he didn't hear Bung come up behind him. Pete went to back away into the alley to formulate a plan and backed into his compatriot, tripping over one size 17 sneaker in the process.

"Watch it, dumbass!" He said in as loud a whisper as he dared.

Bung ignored him. All his attention was on the girl. She was the prettiest, nakedest thing he'd ever seen and the sight made his blood begin to perk with hormones and his dick twitch with anticipation. The last sex that Bung had experienced was 'before' with a homeless woman who traded him a toothless blow-job for a half-bottle of sour wine. He had never been able to consummate anything like a normal sex act with a female because they always fought to escape like rabid weasels when they saw the monstrous size of his genitals. Bung's recollection of these previous experiences was as mercifully faulty as his memory of everything else, so he approached each new opportunity with an optimistic attitude that this one might turn out better.

It wasn't until Cathy was out of sight beyond a bus-stop shelter that Pete was able to get Bung's attention and drag his large pet into the shadows for a one-sided conference.

"Look, here's what we're gonna do," Pete said. "We gotta follow her and see if we can catch her before she gets to the next street. There's an eatin' place on the corner with an alley behind it and they got a row of these dumpsters in there."

Pete knew this because he and Bung had occasionally resorted to scavenging in those waste bins when better pickings were not available. He knew Bung would accept the information as news from out of the ether.

"We'll stay out of sight, see. Then we get as close as we can before we rush her. You grab her and make sure she don't scream and we'll drag her into the alley next to the eatin' place. Got it?"

Bung nodded. Pete thought it was even money that any of what he just said would be retained longer than 30 seconds, but it made him feel superior to be the one to lay out the plan of action.

Cathy had just turned into the alley and was reaching into her purse for the key to the security-door that secured the stairs to her apartment when a huge hand clamped itself over her mouth. An arm went around her waist and she was lifted and carried into the alley and past her door. Her key ring was jarred from her hand and she saw it fly into a pile of plastic trash bags waiting for the morning pickup just before she was dumped onto a waist-high stack of cardboard waiting to be recycled.

The doorway to her apartment stairs had a low-wattage bulb in a metal guard that had managed to resist being vandalized. It cast enough light down the alley for Cathy to get a good look at her attackers. They struck her as a couple of desperate men. She looked back and forth between the small rat-like man and the hulking giant, unsure which was the more dangerous. When she saw the small one tug on the lump in the crotch of his grimy jeans, she knew his intentions.

"They want to rape me!" she thought, her mind suddenly running a hundred miles a minute as she desperately tried to make sense of the situation. "I was walking along, minding my own business, and they just decided to grab me and rape me! Why me? What did I do? Is it because I'm exercising my legal right to be naked? Rights aren't worth very much if men can just grab you and fuck you whenever they like. Would they be doing this even if I weren't naked? Did I bring this on myself? Am I to blame for this? Surely not! That 'she was asking for it' business is so last-Millennium! Why am I even worrying about that now? I should be trying to get away. Should I scream? But there's no one around to hear me. Should I fight back? If it was just the little one, I might stand a chance. That big man looks like he could break me in half. Maybe I can make a run for it. I'm not sure if I can outrun them, but it's worth a try."

Cathy tried to tear her eyes away from the two men and look for a way to escape, but it was difficult. Her eyes were wide and locked onto her assailants. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Her body was tense and twitching from the 'fight or flight' response the suddenness of the attack had thrown her into. She finally forced herself to look left and then right to look for an avenue of escape. Terror began to melt into dismay when she saw that they had her cornered and that they were all out of sight from the street.

"Oh, God! They're going to do it," she thought, as the short man flicked open a thin switchblade knife. "They're actually going to rape me right here in the alley and there isn't a thing I can do to stop them. This is so unfair!"

"You just stay put if you know what's good for you," Pete told her. "If you try to run, I'll cut you. And you don't want a big old scar on that pretty skin, do you girlie?"

On hearing the word 'skin', Cathy suddenly became acutely-aware of her nakedness. She scuttled back as far as she could on the cardboard and put her back against the filthy brick wall, where she pulled her knees up and huddled behind her legs and arms. Her half-formed plan to run away was instantly forgotten as she focused on the threat of being cut.

"N ... no!" she managed to say through a throat that was almost paralyzed with fear. "P ... please don't hurt me!"

"We won't hurt you none," Pete reassured her in a voice that oozed lie with every syllable. "Not unless you give us cause to, that is. We just want to party some. You be good and you won't get hurt none at all." He moved the point of the knife toward her and she pulled her legs more tightly under her and tried to shrink into herself.

"Maybe he's right," Cathy thought feverishly trying to put together a chain of logic that would explain what was happening. "That's what they told us in those safety lectures when I was in school, that we shouldn't put up a fight or we'd be more likely to get hurt. They said we should just give them what they want and concentrate on surviving. Dammit! That's easy to say in an auditorium full of students! In a dark alley with a knife in your face it's something else! I'll try, though. I won't fight or try to run. I'll just lie here and let them do it to me and then they'll go away. I'll just wait it out and I'll get through it. It's not like I'm still a virgin or anything. I've had sex before. Plenty of times. Well, maybe not plenty. I hope they won't be too rough. Is that what rapists like? Why am I worrying about what they like? I'm the one being raped. Should they care what I like? What do I like? Maybe I like it rough? I don't know! I've never had rough sex before. What am I thinking! They're not going to care what I like. This isn't some kind of strange blind date. They're going to rape me! They're going to rape me and leave me lying here on these boxes fucked almost into unconsciousness with my legs splayed-open and my pussy full of cum. Then they're going to go brag to their friends how many times they came in me and much they enjoyed ruining me! Maybe they won't enjoy it. Maybe I won't be any good. Maybe they'll tell all their friends how awful I was. Do I want people going around saying I'm such a lousy lay that I'm not worth raping? That would be awful to have anyone talk about me like that, even a rapist. I mean, sure, they might all leave me alone after that but..."

Cathy's torrential stream-of-consciousness rambling came to an abrupt halt when Pete touched the point of the knife to her right nipple. He had her complete attention as he slid the shiny blade alongside the small nub of flesh as if he were preparing to cut it off with a flick of his wrist. The blade was warm from being in his pocket, but she still shivered as he traced the outline of her half-dollar sized areola with the sharp point, dragging it across the ring of tiny bumps that circled her nipple. Cathy was breathing hard, which made her breasts heave and jiggle as the knife pressed against her. She tried to stop moving. She tried to hold still so she wouldn't cut herself on the blade, but she couldn't control her rapid breathing any more than she could stop her flesh from responding to the touch of the steel.

"Looks like we got a live one here, Bung," Pete said, moving the knife away and using it to gesture at Cathy's nipple, "I haven't laid a hand on her and she's already hot for it."

She looked down to see what he meant, and was horrified at the way her sensitive flesh was swelling and crinkling. Her nipples were stiffening and the man interpreted it as a sign of arousal.

"Stop that!" Cathy mentally screamed at her body. "This is not the least bit arousing. Do you hear me! It's just the opposite." She clutched both hands over her breasts to protect them from the knife as well as to hide the evidence of her arousal. Her hard nipples felt like tiny ice-cubes against her damp palms. The warmth of her hands did nothing to melt the hard lumps. Instead, they seemed to make things so much worse that Cathy was forced to spread her fingers and let her painfully-hard nipples poke obscenely between them.

"Those sure are some pretty tits you got there, girlie," Pete said in genuine admiration. "Those nips sure are getting' nice and tight. You must need it pretty bad. Shit, I bet you ain't had a dick in you for some time now."

Cathy shook her head in reflexive denial. It had been some time since she and Ronny had been intimate, but these men couldn't possibly know that, just as they couldn't know that she'd had an orgasm just an hour or so earlier.

"I must still be excited from making myself cum earlier. But surely that's not why they grabbed me. They can't actually tell something like that, can they? Not from just watching me. Was I rolling my hips when I walked? I wasn't trying to be sexy. Maybe it's something I was doing unconsciously. Maybe I'm just naturally sexy and I didn't realize it. Maybe they saw me and couldn't help themselves. Maybe I'm just — what do they call it — rape bait?"

"Come on girlie," Pete said, leering at her with a feral grin. "No sense in pretending now. We know you came down here looking to get some pipe laid in your pussy. Get up here and show us how much you need it."

Again Cathy shook her head slowly, trying to deny to them and to herself that she understood what he was saying. In fact, she understood perfectly. She knew exactly what they wanted. She just didn't want to acknowledge it to them or to herself. She knew they planned to rape her. That would have been humiliating enough. But to suggest that she somehow wanted this to happen, that she'd walked down this alley, twitching her tail like a bitch in heat, hoping for a stud to follow her in and give her what she needed — that was an awful thing to say. The most awful thing she could imagine. Except for being forced to cooperate with them — to encourage them to ravish and defile her body — that seemed the ultimate in depravity.

Cathy searched for the feelings she expected to have at the mere idea of such a thing. She did feel horrified, but it wasn't at the idea of being humiliated or raped, it was at the sudden throb of warmth she felt in her pussy. She could lie to herself as she pleased about being coerced in this way, but her body's reaction was plain — it was finding the prospect of playing slut for her rapists to be highly appealing.

"No! Please! Nooooooooo!" she cried, not sure if she meant the plea for the man with the knife or because she felt her collaborationist clit twitch and start to stiffen in concert with her traitorous nipples.

"Get on with it or I'll cut your tits off and fuck you anyway!" Pete growled, starting to lose what little patience he had. He waved the knife at her breasts.

Cathy was positive that he would do just what he said. She slid her legs out from under her and slid forward on the cardboard until she was stretched out full length with her feet dangling off the edge, bracing herself on her hands with her arms stiff. She forced herself to push her shoulders back and arch her back to show her heaving breasts to the men she expected to violate her.

"This is awful," Cathy told herself, sternly. "This is humiliating. Why am I getting wet? I can't want this! I don't need this!" The throbbing in her clit called her a liar. She failed to notice that she had stopped pressing her knees together and that her legs had begin to slowly creep apart to vent some of the heat her pussy was generating.

"Very nice, girlie," Pete said. He was glad she had decided to cooperate; it meant he'd made her submit, and to him that was even more important than getting his dick into her. When they fought, it distracted him and made it hard for him to concentrate on getting his rocks off. Even though she seemed to be going along with things, the idea of cutting her still had a certain fascination for him. He thought it would be cool to cut on her just a little bit. Just to leave a mark on that smooth, soft skin to show he'd been there. Maybe after he was finished with her he would carve a 'P' in one of her breasts to show the world that he'd had her. Maybe he'd cut off one of those hard nipples that had swollen to the size of pencil erasers under the threat of amputation. She seemed to respond to the touch of the blade, maybe he'd do it just as he dumped his wad into her. He bet she'd get off real good if he did that. He wanted to see her cumming hard with his dick in her cunt and her blood streaming down her chest. The thought of her screaming in pain as he forced her to cum made his dick go hard as iron and that clinched it.

Cathy watched the two men as they leered at her naked body. The small one looked like he was about to explode in his pants. His cock threatened to rip the crotch out of his jeans.

"He really wants me," she thought as she elaborated on her reluctantly-seductive display by undulating her abdomen and tilting her hips. "Look how hard he is! Maybe he won't last very long and this will be over quickly. I hope not. I mean I hope so! Damn! I don't know what I want. This is so unreal. I still can't believe this is happening!"

She looked at the big man who had grabbed her off the street. He hadn't said a word. He just stood and calmly stared at her with a small smile on his face, as if he were doing nothing more exciting than watching a TV show that he enjoyed. She tried to see if her body were having an effect on him as well, but his pants were very baggy and she couldn't make out which lump was his cock.

"What do you care?" She asked herself. "He's such a brute. What if he has a cock to match his size? Stop that! This is not a party! Not that this sort of thing would ever happen at any party I've been to. I mean, being gang-raped and all. If there are only two of them, is it still a gang? I wouldn't want to be accused of exaggerating when I talk to the police later. They might think I was bragging. Damn! What will I tell the police? That they made me show them how much I needed to be raped? No way! That they scared me so bad I started to think about sex as an adventure instead of something nasty you did in the dark under the covers and didn't make too much noise so nobody would hear you? I don't think so! Dammit, why am I thinking about this now? What can I do to get this over with as fast as possible? Cooperate — that's it. OK, I'll cooperate. I'll show them cooperation!"

Cathy leaned back and started to stroke her breasts and finger her nipples. She chewed on her lower lip as she began to jerk her hips and open her legs to give them a good look at the pussy she expected them to ravish. The smoldering, seductive look she gave them came much easier than she expected it would.

"I can't fucking believe I'm doing this," she thought, but she thought it with a tiny bit of smugness.

She squeezed her breasts and pulled on her nipples, trying to look like a wanton slut who needed a good hard cock in her pussy. She tried to recall what the girls looked like in those magazines that her fiancée had promised her he would throw away and she did her best to emulate those poses. She found that she actually remembered the pictures fairly clearly.

"This is disgusting!" Cathy told herself as she performed for her assailants. "Wait. I remember one that was even more disgusting. I wonder if they like this one better?"

The men stared at her with fixed expressions. Neither of them moved. Both were fascinated by Cathy's show and both were eager to see how far she would go. They had never actually successfully raped anyone before and so were completely unprepared for a victim who seemed to so turned on by the prospect.

"Come on!" Cathy thought. "What are you waiting on! Isn't this doing it for you? Are you going to get on with it or am I going to have to do everything myself?"

Cathy stroked her hands over her stomach and down her abdomen to her patch of wispy blonde curls. Her knees were well apart now and starting to turn outward as her body offered itself to the two strangers. The situation took her back to earlier in the evening when she lay on Kim's bed and showed her wet pussy to Jeff. She remembered how incredibly hot that had made her and how hard she had cum with him watching her. She slid a finger into her slit and it was instantly soaked. She put a second finger alongside the first and pushed both of them into her pussy. The moan that escaped her throat had nothing to do with acting. The way her hips rose up under her hand was just as involuntary.

"Good," she thought, "If they see how hot I am, maybe they will both just cum in their pants and won't be able to rape me with their hard cocks. Maybe they'll run off and leave me alone."

Opening her legs as widely as she could, she used the two fingers in her pussy to spread her labia apart to show her pink, glistening inner flesh to the two men. She pulled back her hand and pressed in on either side of her clit, which made it bulge outward and sent a burst of pleasure racing to her brain. If felt so good that she immediately did it again, with the same result.

Cathy moaned again as the heat built inside her. She pushed her hips into the air and dug her fingers deeper into her steamy pussy, reaching for her g-spot, pressing it and tugging hard on her bright pink opening. She felt her pussy juices run out of her and down between her legs to moisten her puckered anus.

"Oh, God!" she thought with a simultaneous jolt of fear and erotic heat. "What if they want to rape me anally? I've never had anything bigger than my finger in there. They probably want to force their hard cocks into my poor asshole and fuck me until I die! Maybe they'll want to fuck me in both my holes at the same time! How degrading!"

Cathy shuddered violently at the prospect of being violated in such a perverted way. She told herself it was fear, but she knew deep down that it was a small climax and that she was making herself crazy with lust by thinking of all the terrible things they might do to her.

She blamed her body for making her desire these awful things and she wanted to punish it. She grabbed her swollen clit between her thumb and forefinger and she twisted it hard. The flash of pain made her cry out, a high, sharp yelp that was followed by a low howl as the blood rushed into her clit and the pain was replaced with a fiery ball of pleasure as her abused clit swelled twice as large as it had been.

Her leather-shod heels drummed on the stack as Cathy's butt dropped to the cardboard, now damp from the flood of wetness pouring from her pussy.

"What's taking them so long?" she wondered. "Why don't they take out their cocks and rape me until I scream for mercy?"

Desperation smothered common sense and she tilted her pelvis up in blatant invitation. She put two fingers from each hand into her small opening and pulled herself open to show them where she wanted them to put their cocks.

Pete just about shot his wad when he saw her practically raping herself with her own hands. He jammed the handle of the knife into his mouth and held it between his teeth while he fumbled with the button and zipper on his fly. When he yanked his pants down, his cock sprang up to stand vertically against his belly, all raging five inches of it.

He grabbed Cathy's thighs and pulled her to the edge of the precarious platform. Pushing down on his hard cock, he got the head into her opening and rammed it home, burying himself balls-deep into the girl with a single short thrust.

Cathy was in no position to criticize Pete's small size. A cock was in her at last. She wrapped her legs around Pete's ass and pulled him against her as hard as she could. Her head fell back and she closed her eyes and braced in expectation of a hard, punishing fuck.

"I do need this," she finally admitted to herself. "I've needed this for a long time. Now I can finally be honest about it. I have needs — needs I've been denying because I've been playing at being someone I'm not. I am the kind of girl who needs sex so badly that she walks down dark alleys, begging to be raped by hoodlums. It looks very much like I'm the kind of girl whose clit runs the show and whose pussy does the talking. Damn! I'm just along for the ride here. What the hell else do I need that I don't know about yet? What kind of terrible, awful, horrible, incredibly hot thing am I going to find myself doing next?"

Cathy's revelations, stunning as they were, faded rapidly into the background as her pussy took over and drowned her higher mental processes in a flood of hormonally-charged arousal. Faced with its demand for complete control, she surrendered and let herself be swept away on a rising tide of primal sexual compulsion.