The Girls of St Francis the Martyr. 1 The Field Trip

- Chapter One -

Thursday

They set off into the wilderness with bags packed. Samantha was the

prettiest, but Rachel was the most popular. Erin, athletic and

boyish, was the token black girl. Leah, armed with impeccable grades,

wanted to save the planet. Katy had dyed-black hair and wore too much

eyeshadow, but was otherwise unremarkable. They’d known each other

before the orienteering trip, had attended St. Francis The Martyr

together since kindergarten. Miss Arson was the newcomer. Two years

out of teaching college, she’d replaced St. Francis’s last teaching

nun. The girls loved her for this and she became their mentor.

None of them knew that fate would soon draw them together, forming

unbreakable bonds between them. It was just an orienteering trip to a

national park, one of six outdoor experiences to choose from. Each of

the five girls had chosen the orienteering trip because Miss Arson was

the chaperone. Nobody imagined what would take place over the course

of the coming weekend. Other than the lesbian incident, their last

day at school before the trip was as normal as any other day.

Erin Burgess and Leah Ormsby, both of whom were rumoured to like

girls, not boys, retreated into a vacant classroom during lunch break,

and probably not for the first time. The difference today was that

Rachel O’Connor, armed with a digital camera, followed them into their

hideaway and filmed their tryst. A week later, what was caught on

film would seem barely noteworthy. Leah sat on a desk in the corner

with her thin legs spread. Erin stood between them, one arm on Leah’s

hipbones, the other behind her head, laced in her long, wavy red hair.

They leaned together to kiss; Leah’s glasses slid down her nose,

supported between them as they locked together.

With strong, dark fingers, Erin undid the top two buttons of Leah’s

blouse and pressed her lips between the peaks of pale, revealed

breasts. Her hand found its way underneath the blouse. Rachel zoomed

in at this point, capturing the movement of Erin’s hand as she groped

Leah’s right breast. They were still kissing, dark lips on white

shoulders. Leah’s blouse slipped down over her shoulders and she was

left topless, a leopard-print bra revealed. Erin continued groping.

Then, Leah turned, pushed her glasses back up the length of her nose,

and looked at the classroom door. She must have seen Rachel filming

because she abruptly pulled her clothes back on, not before her entire

upper body blushed bright red, from her face to the flesh of her

breasts, exposed all the way down to her right nipple, pale as her

skin, which Erin had revealed and was leaning down to suck.

The video cut out at that point, but by the end of the day, the

entire school knew that Leah had chased Rachel down the hallway.

Erin, captain of the soccer team, might have caught her, but Leah,

pale and wispy, could not. Rachel used the remainder of lunch break

to show the video to her entire circle of friends.

In last period Health, which Miss Arson had taken on in addition to

Biology and Earth Science, she noticed the tension. Miss Arson had

been drafted into teaching Health, due to her willingness to utter

words like “penis,” “vagina,” “masturbation” and “menstruation,” and

didn’t like it much, seeing that the class’s mere existence drew

complaints from parents. The state, however, said that St. Francis

needed to teach sex education, and so Miss Arson weathered the

complaints and made sure to let the girls know that Mrs. Callahan,

teacher of Religious Studies, was always there to offer the church’s

viewpoint on any subject discussed in Health.

The girls were worked-up over something today, and Miss Arson could

tell that it was more than excitement about the trip. Rachel O’Connor

and Samantha Connelly sat with their desks pushed together, whispering

and occasionally glancing over at Erin and Leah. Each glance was

followed by peals of silent giggling. Erin returned the angry

glances, but Leah leaned onto thin, crossed arms, red hair flowing

around her lowered head. Yes, something was up and Miss Arson knew

it. She also knew that all of them, Rachel, Samantha, Erin and Leah,

were on her field trip. And so was Katy Flaherty, who seemed to be

uninvolved in the conflict.

Miss Arson didn’t let it affect her teaching. “Condoms,” she said,

slapping a banana onto Samantha and Rachel’s combined desk and setting

two condoms beside it. “It’s a good idea to know how to put a condom

onto a penis, so today, we’re going to practice.” Today, of course,

was a good day, because the girls would have less than twenty-four

hours to tell their parents about the lesson and because if there were

complaints, she’d be deep in the wilderness when they came in.

“To apply the condom, take it out of its package—careful not to tear

the latex. Place it at the head of the penis—or, in this case, the

banana, and unroll it with a downward motion.” She placed a banana

and two condoms between Erin and Leah. Samantha and Rachel started

laughing—out loud, this time. “It’s not funny, girls, it’s something

we should all know how to do. She looked over to Katy, who was

sitting alone. “Katy, work with Rachel and Samantha, please, and keep

the laughter at a minimum.” Miss Arson figured that the addition of

the moody and serious Katy would stop the giggling. She handed Katy a

third condom. “Each of you needs to apply the condom once and then

you’re done for the day. I know we’re all eager to talk about

tomorrow’s field trips.”

Miss Arson sat at her desk, watching the girls. Erin nudged Leah,

but she kept her head down. Erin methodically performed the exercise,

stretching the condom over the banana, then tossing it to one side,

still suited up.

Rachel made the show of it, taking the condom in her mouth and bobbing

down over the banana like she was taking an erect penis into her

mouth. After the condom was on, she gripped her hand around the base

of the banana, stuck out her tongue, and took it deep into her mouth.

Her rose-petal lips closed around it and her eyes widened as she slid

it in and out of her mouth. When she finally popped the banana out of

her mouth, it was dripping with saliva. Rachel swirled her long, pink

tongue around the condom’s reservoir tip.

Now, Samantha and Katy laughed, but it was pleasant laughter. Katy

asked for another banana so she wouldn’t get Samantha’s germs on her

mouth. This made even Miss Arson laugh. Katy tried putting on a

condom with her mouth, too, stretching her thin, crimson lips into an

“o,” but she was uncertain and clumsy, and ended up ripping it with a

pointy incisor.

“Don’t bite his dick off, goth girl,” Samantha said. Katy hissed at

her, green eyes gleaming, and the entire group laughed again.

Miss Arson was worried about Leah, though, and walked past her desk

just in time to hear Erin coaxing her up. “Just be yourself, girl,”

Erin said, rubbing one strong, bronzed hand down Leah’s back. “Don’t

worry what everyone says about you because it doesn’t matter.” Leah

raised her head and performed the condom task with an apathy similar

to Erin’s, pulling her condom on over the first one. Miss Arson

ignored this and moved on, confident that Erin was doing a fine job

consoling her friend. She heard some muffled laughter from Samantha

and Rachel as Leah finished her condom, but ignored this, too. She

was friendly with all of the girls, and if they needed her, they’d

come to her.

It was later, after the girls had gone, that Miss Arson found out

what the issue had been. In the staffroom, she overheard the very

religious Crispina Callahan, a woman who might have become a nun had

she been born ten years earlier, blathering on about something. “And

Rachel showed me the tape, and I nearly fainted. I told her to turn

that filth off. I’ve half a mind to go to the principal, but I

wouldn’t want to get poor little Rachel in trouble.”

She turned away from Mr. DeRose, the math teacher, who was only half

listening, and spied Miss Arson. “Oh, Emily,” she called out, “Have

you ever got a weekend ahead of you! Both of those little harlots are

on your trip!”

“Well, I wouldn’t call Rachel a harlot,” Miss Arson said, hovering a

bit closer to Mrs. Callahan, not wanting to sit down. She was

thinking of Rachel with the condom in her mouth, expertly unwrapping

it over the banana.

“I don’t mean Rachel,” Crispina said, almost scolding her colleague.

“I mean Leah and Erin. Rachel showed me a video of the two of them

locked in an...” she hesitated. “...Unholy union.”

“Meaning,” Miss Arson replied, even though she’d already caught the meaning.

“They’re dykes, both of them. Queer as they come.”

“Now, now,” said Mr. Derose, “sometimes young girls get confused.”

“Well, they didn’t look confused to me,” said Mrs. Callahan. “Just

know that you’ve got a long weekend ahead of you, Emily. Be sure to

educate them about... wrongdoing. That’s what health class should be

about, if you ask me—letting them know that it’s a sin. It’s right in

the Bible.” Laughing on the inside, Miss Arson excused herself. If

only Miss Callahan could have seen the class today, she would have had

a heart attack. As Miss Arson walked away, Mrs. Callahan called after

her, “Just remember, Emily, He lifts up the holy and punishes the

wicked.”

Miss Emily Arson remembered those words two days later at the oddest

moment. It would take years to regain the confidence to get

Crispina’s judgment out of her head.

“And out in the wilderness, too,” she heard Crispina continue. “Can

you imagine all of the ‘jungle love’ those two will get up to if

someone isn’t watching them? I’m so glad that my group is touring

cathedrals because we’ll be surrounded by....” For now, that voice

faded into the background.

- Chapter Two -

Friday Morning

Leah was tired of hiding her sexuality. She’d taken Erin’s words into

her heart. “Just be yourself, girl,” Erin had said, those big, dark

lips brushing the side of her head. Erin smelled sporty, like the

men’s deodorant soap she used in the shower, but on her, it was

strangely feminine and added to her mystique, even though she dressed

like a tomboy. With her camping gear packed, she donned a short,

camo-patterned skirt, her favorite belt, the one with an old school

seatbelt buckle at the center and recycled soda pop lids lining the

belt. Her T-shirt was vintage, green and fitted, and bore a peace

sign over her ample breasts. She showed up at church like this, red

hair tamed only slightly. It was Friday morning and the priest was

going to bless the Juniors before they embarked on their trips.

Leah turned heads. She’d expected to, of course, and made a

conscious decision to relish the attention, positive and negative.

Amid the sea of faces, some—Mrs. Callahan’s, in particular—judgmental,

some in awe, she found Erin. Erin was dressed in her usual street

clothes, jeans and a sports jersey, this one Magic Johnson’s. “Wow,”

Erin mouthed.

“I’m done hiding,” Leah whispered, embracing her friend. But her

voice was wavering already and she was wondering if she’d made a

mistake dressing this way, deliberately cultivating this sort of

attention.

“Okay,” Erin said, and by the apprehension in her voice, Leah could

tell that Erin wasn’t sure, either. They’d only been girlfriends for

a month or so, and the most they’d done was kiss and grope. Neither

of them felt any interest in boys. Leah couldn’t imagine laying down

and allowing some sweaty, teenage boy to stab her with his dick. Erin

was muscular, familiar, unthreatening and shared her sentiment that

penises were disgusting.

The priest delivered his blessing.

“Hear, O Lord, the prayers of Thy servants, the girls of St. Francis

the Martyr. Bless their journeyings. Thou Who art everywhere present,

shower upon them the effects of Thy mercy. Clothe them with your

invisible protection to keep them from all danger of collision, of

fire, of explosion, of fall and bruises, and finally, having preserved

them from all evil, and especially from sin, so that they may return

to offer Thee their thanksgiving. Through Christ our Lord, Amen.”

None of the girls appeared to be listening. They were lost in the

excitement of this trip. Of course, they were all listening more than

they were willing to admit. They were at an age when many young,

Catholic girls turn away from the Church, but, though these five,

Leah, Erin, Samantha, Rachel and Katy, had all begun to question the

church’s teachings, none of them had completely lost faith or respect.

“Amen,” they replied, all of them together.

The talk on the bus was still about Leah and Erin, who were seated in

the back row. It was one of the short buses the school used for

handicapped students, but for the purpose of this trip, it held the

five girls, their gear, and food that was to last the weekend. The

bus driver, whose name was Alexandro, spoke very little English and

would depart as soon as they’d set up camp. As soon as they pulled

onto the state highway, the girls began chattering, ignoring Miss

Arson, who’d brought a book.

“I swear,” Rachel said to Samantha, “Father Daniel was looking right

at her when he said ‘especially from sin.’ He knows.”

“It’s not like you’ve never done anything dirty before,” Samantha replied.

“Shut up,” said Rachel.

In the back seat, behind all of the gear, which took up the bus’s

third and fourth rows, Erin and Leah crouched in the corner. Now and

then, they whispered to one another. Just behind Miss Arson, Katy sat

alone, leaning back in her seat with headphones on. Her dyed black

hair was pulled into two braids.

An hour into the journey, Miss Arson stood up. “Okay, girls,” she

said, “Let’s listen for a moment. In an hour and a half, we’ll be at

the park. We’ll spend tonight at camp, then head out on our

orienteering trip in the morning. With luck, we’ll be at the top of

Ash Hill tomorrow night where we’ll sleep in our tents, or under the

stars, if you prefer. We’ll hike back down, rest up, and the bus will

meet us first thing Monday morning.” The girls listened attentively

and returned to their conversations.

In the back seat, Erin and Leah returned to what they’d been

discussing before. “Are you sure?” Erin whispered in Leah’s ear,

drawing red hair over Leah’s shoulder with one dark hand.

“Yes,” said Leah, firmly, then returned to her whisper. “No one will

see.” She leaned against the window, put her hands on either side of

Erin’s face, staring into her dark eyes, and drew her in for a deep

kiss. Erin’s lips felt warm and robust against Leah’s; Leah inhaled

Erin’s scent and leaned back further, legs spreading inside the camo

skirt. Erin’s hand snaked upwards, parting Leah’s legs. Leah felt

Erin’s thick fingers, skin rough, but moving gently, as they pushed

her panties aside and found her inner lips.

She felt hot all over, and wet down below. A burst of dampness seemed

to gather at the entrance to her vagina. It had all seemed so

clinical before—in sex-ed with Miss Arson describing it. In the

Bible, with its “he came into her” and “he knew her.” And it had

always been men and women. Leah shuddered as Erin found her clitoris,

rubbed it softly, touched it in ways Leah had never dared. Erin had

masturbated before—she’d told Leah that much, and the terrain of

Leah’s body, though more slender, must have seemed familiar. Erin

kept kissing Leah as her fingers circled the hardening bud. She drew

back and looked into Leah’s eyes as her index and middle finger moved

lower, her thumb remaining on the now rock-hard little button. She

delved two fingers deeply, parting Leah’s firm outer lips, then her

soft, inner ones.

Leah felt Erin’s fingers intruding, pressing against her hymen. This

was so bad and she knew it. She’d been taught in church and school

that her hymen was meant for her husband, but here was Erin pressing

against it, wanting to enter with her fingers. It was deliciously

wrong, and, at that moment, Leah wanted it more than anything. She

wanted those thick, bronzed fingers to thrust their way into her

dripping puss, and to move in and out like a dick was meant to. Her

own scent was intoxicating; she was surprised she could smell her own

arousal. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, Erin kissing her

neck, and prepared for penetration—but it did not come.

“Oh, SICK!” Rachel screamed. “SICK SICK SICK!” She dropped her hot

pink United Colours of Benetton suitcase, brand name garments

scattering over the floor of the bus, and turned toward the teacher

and bus driver, one accusing finger pointed at Leah and Erin. “The

lezzies are getting it on back there, Miss Arson! It’s absolutely

disgusting!”

With the exception of the bus driver, who didn’t know the Spanish

translation of “lezzies,” everyone in the bus turned and looked at

them. Erin’s hand slipped out from under Leah’s skirt and Erin

herself leaned in front of Leah, as though to block her from view.

“Miss Arson, do something!” Rachel wailed. “It’s against nature.”

“Actually, Rachel,” Miss Arson said, “it’s not. Homosexuality is

found in many species. In fact, many scientists believe it’s nature’s

method of population control, or a normal, harmless variation. “

“But the Bible says it’s wrong,” Samantha retorted, flipping her hair.

“Well, you girls can believe what you want,” Miss Arson said, “but my

way of thinking is this—the Bible was written before we understood a

lot of nature’s mechanisms. Evolution, which has now been accepted by

the Catholic church, is still denied by people in many other

religions. There are many places where we don’t take the Bible at

face value, and, besides, I’m not a nun, I’m a science teacher.”

Rachel slid back into the seat next to Samantha. Both of them looked

confused. At the very least, Miss Arson had given them something to

mull over. Katy put her headphones back on and looked out the window.

Miss Arson proceeded to the back of the bus where Erin sat beside a

red-faced and tearful Leah, clutching her hand. “Girls,” Miss Arson

said. Even Erin looked worried, like she knew she was about to be

punished. “I want you to know that what you were doing is natural and

normal, whether you’re really attracted to the same sex or just

curious. But maybe it would be more appropriate to explore in

private. All right?” With that, she stood and walked back to her

seat. Leah and Erin looked at each other. Miss Arson was a pretty

cool teacher.

- Chapter Three -

Friday Afternoon

Rachel didn’t consider herself to be a typical popular girl. Sure,

her father owned both of the town’s movie theatres and a chain of

Italian restaurants. Of course, she was beautiful, with long, golden

brown hair streaked with just the right amount of blonde. And, of

course, most of the girls in school wanted to be her. But Rachel

considered herself more than some plastic popular girl. She was

shrewdly intelligent—she needed to be, to keep the boys wanting her

and the girls admiring her. Her popularity, she figured, would last

well into adulthood when she would take over her father’s little

empire, and she knew that if she didn’t stay socially connected, she’d

end up answering to someone like her best friend, Samantha, pretty and

vacant.

Samantha demonstrated her mental inflexibility less than five minutes

after the girls arrived at camp. Camp consisted of two cabins full of

bunk beds, a stone fire pit, and a rickety latrine set ten feet into

the forest. An outdoor shower and water pump were located on the

other side of the camp. Miss Arson began to unlock the one cabin they

would be using, but found the door unlocked already. Samantha darted

into the cabin, searching the walls high and low. “Oh, no!” she

screamed, “no outlets! How am I supposed to dry my hair?”

“Hey, Samantha,” Erin said, “There’s no hot water here, either.”

“Oh, nooo!” she shrieked, louder this time, pressing her

neatly-manicured hand against her forehead.

Rachel had been thinking a lot about Erin, Leah and what Miss Arson

had said on the bus. She knew that homosexuality was forbidden by the

Bible, but she and Samantha had done some things that weren’t exactly

biblical. With guys, of course, but still. Let she who is without

sin cast the first stone, or whatever. This time, Rachel took Erin’s

side. “Come on, Samantha, it’s fun to be rugged.” She growled as she

toted her pink luggage into the cabin and set it beside one of the

bunk beds.

“Hey, Rachel,” Samantha said, flipping her blond hair from side to

side. Though usually straight and flowing, Samantha’s hair had been

mussed on the bus. This didn’t keep her from saying something to stop

Rachel in her tracks. “Two words: Damien. Flaherty.”

Rachel drew a tight breath into her chest; her body tensed from her

belly button up to her firm, rounded breasts. Her eyes darted around

the room until they focused on her bunk. “Hey,” she said, “There’s

someone else’s stuff in here. Look!”

“A Baptist group was here for a school trip earlier this week,” Miss

Arson said. “Maybe they left some of their things.”

“Well, the Baptists must be pretty rich, because if I left my

Walkman, sleeping bag and a hundred-dollar American Girls doll at

camp, I know what my parents would do.” Rachel crossed her arms and

released the tension in her chest.

“Nobody’s richer than your parents,” Samantha huffed, plopping down

on the top bunk.

Across the room, Katy had found something, too. “There’s a pillow on

mine. It’s dirty, though.” She tossed it aside. “Some people.”

Katy shrugged, her twin braids bobbing up and down.

Rachel folded the Walkman and doll into the pink sleeping bag and set

it in a corner. The girls laid out their sleeping bags, Samantha and

Rachel in one bunk, Erin and Leah in the second, Katy in the third.

Miss Arson opened up the other cabin, where she would have her

privacy.

Leaving Samantha sprawled on the top bunk, Rachel sprinted out of the

cabin and toward the water pump where Miss Arson had already filled

pitcher with water for the girls’ canteens. She was now working on a

huge bucket of water to put out the campfire at the end of the night.

Rachel was eager to help. She loved being outdoors, unlike most of

her popular friends, who’d chosen other trips, like Mrs. Callahan’s

tour of churches. The cool, spring breeze fluttered through Rachel’s

golden hair. She smiled. “Can I have a turn with the pump?” she

asked. Miss Arson stepped aside and allowed Rachel to pump. With her

long, lean muscles working on the pump’s metal handle, Rachel let her

mind wander back to the last few days of school. She’d been mean to

tape what Erin and Leah were up to, she realized. She’d just wanted

to detract from what she’d done with Damien Flaherty, an upperclassman

who happened to be Katy’s brother; she hadn’t wanted to be the talk of

the school in the days before the field trip. But she could still

feel his thin lips against hers, his tongue warm in her mouth. He had

dyed black hair like his sister’s, but shorter and slightly shaggy.

His eyelashes were long and dark, completely wasted on a boy, and as

they made out, Rachel had wondered what he would look like in some of

Katy’s mascara.

The crisp, woodsy smell of a growing campfire was in the air; it drew

Rachel back into the present. Leah and Katy danced around the stack

of kindling as Erin quickly gathered logs from a stack that looked to

have toppled over. As the brightness of day faded, the girls—even

Samantha—gathered around to roast hot dogs on sticks and watch three

cans of baked beans cook in the glowing embers that formed a circle

around the fire. Rachel joined them, lugging the bucket of water

against her designer jeans. Whoever said popular girls couldn’t be

outdoorsy?

They told ghost stories as they ate, the typical “things that go bump

in the night” stories that students and teachers have told on camping

trips for years, flashlights lighting their faces from below. Miss

Arson told the story of the escaped convict with the metal hand.

Katy’s was about a haunted hotel room. Leah didn’t have an urban

legend story, just mumbled something about Americans destroying the

environment. She was always blathering on about the beauty of the

wilderness and the fact that America was actively destroying it.

Erin told the one about the Smith-Jones family. Rachel’s was about a

dummy named Zebo who came to life. Finally, after Samantha’s story

about an imported Mexican dog that turned out to be a sewer rat, it

was Rachel who suggested Truth or Dare. After all she’d done to put

Erin and Leah on the spot, she was ready to open herself to criticism.

And talking about it would be fun.

“That was very enlightening, Samantha,” Rachel said.

“I know,” Samantha agreed, running her fingers through her hair.

Most faces look strange when they’re lit by a flashlight, but Samantha

looked angelic, like a porcelain doll. “That really happened to my

cousin’s friend’s sister,” she said, nodding her head. “It does

happen, you know. That’s why you should always buy American, even

when you’re buying a dog.”

Miss Arson concealed a chuckle. Leah said, “Didn’t you listen to my

story at all?! Buying American destroys the environment, and that’s

the real horror story.” Leah patted her on her back, then clasped her

hand.

Katy laughed out loud. “Samantha, I’ve been going to summer camp

since I was six. I think I heard your story first when Damien was

nine, I was seven, and he swore it was his bunkmate who’d brought the

sewer rat home.”

“Damien,” Samantha repeated, a smug and knowing smile on her face.

“Your brother, Damien.”

“Yeah, my brother, Damien,” Katy repeated, not understanding that

Samantha was baiting Rachel. “Are you slow or something?” She’d

taken her dark hair down; it hung down just below her shoulders and

had streaks of fire engine red, which she concealed in braids during

school hours.

“Yeah,” Samantha said, “let’s play truth or dare.”

Miss Arson yawned. “Well, I guess it’s time for me to turn in. When

you get this old, you really start to need your beauty rest.” Miss

Arson wasn’t old. She was twenty-five at the most, only one year out

of teacher’s college. Her hair was a plain, mousy brown, usually tied

into a cute, curly pony tail or a bun with tendrils of hair that

cascaded down the back of her head. She was a favorite among the

students, which often put her at odds with the administration.

Tonight, she had her hair hanging down in waves. She stood, smiling

at the girls, took her flashlight and headed to her cabin to read her

book. The girls all knew she respected their privacy, but, really,

she could have stayed if she’d wanted to.

“Okay,” Rachel said, rocking forward to place her elbows on her knees

and her head in her hands. The warmth of the fire and the

anticipation of the moment were making her sweat. “Erin, truth or

dare?”

“Truth.” Erin held her flashlight under her chin, lighting up her

cocoa-colored skin. “But we have to make a promise first. What’s

said here stays between us. I take enough crap at school for being

the black girl who beats everyone at sports. I don’t need people

making fun of me for being a lesbian, too, you know?”

“I agree,” Katy said. “High school sucks bad enough without everyone

making fun of you for being different.” She fluttered her eyelashes,

which were heavy with mascara. “So, is that a deal, everyone?”

“Yep,” said Leah.

“Sure,” said Samantha.

“Of course,” said Rachel, who then asked, “How many times have you

and Leah, you know, done it?”

“In the bus, in the classroom, and one time before that, I dunno,”

she said. “I know I’m not normal, but I just want to be me. Um,

Katy, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Katy said, grinning impishly.

“To the latrine and back, shirt off, no flashlight.”

Katy didn’t have to be told twice. She was as wild as her hair. The

tight, black shirt she was wearing came off, her silver necklaces

jangled down around her neck, and a black, lacy bra with a

heart-shaped clasp was visible. Her breasts were small and perky, the

nipples stiff under the lace. She was skinny; her ribs were visible,

and her stomach indented toward her bellybutton. In the glint of

firelight, the others realized she had a silver stud in her

bellybutton that they hadn’t seen before. Samantha gasped audibly as

Katy turned around twice, letting the others look at her for a few

moments before she took off running. Everyone watched her, little

breasts bouncing up and down, as she ran past the campfire and into

the darkness. Everyone could hear her footsteps, which slowed the

further she ran from the light.

“Tag!” Katy called when she got to the outhouse. The girls heard her

slap its side. She ran back, stepped into the golden light, and

pulled her shirt back over milky skin that now bore goosebumps. “That

was kinda freaky,” Katy said, crossing her arms over her now-concealed

breasts. “I can hear all the mice and owls and shit in the trees over

there.”

“Let’s just hope there aren’t any bears,” Rachel said.

“Brrrr,” Katy replied, shivering. “Okay, Rach, you asked for it.

Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What did you do with my brother that everyone but me seems to know

about?” She didn’t sound angry, just curious, though firelight can

contort the features.

“I sucked his dick,” Rachel said. Everyone gasped except Samantha.

Out of the girls on the trip, only Samantha had sex, and that was

common knowledge because she’d taken a “re-virginity pledge” at her

youth group soon after, and had done a presentation on this in

freshman health two years ago. If anyone else had experimented with

boys, they’d kept quiet about it, especially after Samantha’s tearful

confession that she could have, like, gotten pregnant, or ended up

with some icky disease.

The game degenerated. “What was it like?” Samantha asked.

Apparently her sexual experience had not encompassed dick sucking.

“Was it like the banana?”

“Kind of,” Rachel said. But it hadn’t been like the banana at all.

She’d started out just kissing Damien in the back seat of his car,

looking at his honey brown eyes, framed by those super-long eyelashes.

He’d smelled sweet, like sweat and anticipation, but he hadn’t forced

her, had just touched the right places—the nape of her neck, the

underside of one of her ample breasts underneath her shirt, her waist,

thumb just above her hipbone, index finger delving into her belly

button, at the exact spot where Katy’s had been pierced. She’d

reciprocated, touching his waist first, then snaking her hand under

the waistband of his jeans.

He had unbuttoned, unzipped and things had gone from there. “I just

thought I’d want to see it at first, but when he took it out, I

started touching it. I’d never seen one before.” She’d been

fascinated with it—the hard skin, stretched tight over the shaft, the

bulbous head, shining in the dim light from the top of the car, the

little hole. She’d run her fingers along the smooth, dry skin, from

the tip to the base, eyes locked on this thing she’d never seen

before. She looked at the testicles, twin orbs in their sack, but

didn’t touch them because she was afraid of hurting him. Damien told

her not to be so gentle, and she’d instinctively licked her hand

before grasping his dick. She’d moved her hand up and down, from a

sharp nest of trimmed, black pubic hair to his cock-head, spreading

lubrication, moving faster, smelling his excitement much more strongly

now.

Rachel’s pussy was getting damp now, just from thinking about it. “Do

you want to suck it?” he’d asked. She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t

say no, either, just gingerly licked the tip of it. It tasted like

skin, though perhaps a bit more salty, was smooth like the inside of

her cheek, but was hard underneath. She curved her lips and took it

into her mouth, first just the head, then more of it. Damien had been

an excellent teacher. “Get your bob on, baby,” he’d said, and she’d

bobbed her head up and down. “Swirl your tongue, just like that.”

She’d sucked and licked, beginning to taste his arousal, learning that

the taste of pre-cum was both salty and sweet, and that the

consistency was that of egg whites. She hadn’t minded. She’d

swallowed his juices right down and kept sucking, getting his whole

shaft wet. Spit dripped into the evenly-cut thatch of pubic hair

below and Rachel kept going, using her tongue, listening to Damien as

he lost his voice, lost the instructions, and let her take over.

“Did you get anything out of it?” Leah asked.

Rachel wasn’t sure whether Leah was talking about arousal or getting

her pussy fingered, which was clearly one of Leah’s favorite

activities. “I got wet,” she said, “and he touched my pussy through

my panties. I wouldn’t let him take them off.” She tried to say this

without judgment, but she considered herself a good girl. Even though

she’d had his cock working in and out of her mouth, had him breathless

underneath her, when he’d put his hand up her skirt, she’d let him

touch for a moment before moving away. She’d worked on him more

diligently then, bobbing quickly, sticking her tongue out so his dick

would slide in and out of her mouth, slipping past her uvula and into

her throat now and then. The taste and smell were overwhelming now

and she felt her clit harden against her panties, which were soaked

through with her own juices.

Then, Damien leaned back and moaned. His thin, narrow body shook,

racked with pleasure. His hips thrust up and he grabbed the sides of

her head, pushing her down to take him more deeply than she had

before.

“Did he spooge in your mouth?” Samantha asked.

“Sick, Samantha, that’s my brother,” Katy said, trying to interrupt,

but Rachel answered anyway.

His jizz had come in four spurts, the first one the biggest, coating

her throat with its heat, sliding down. He’d pulled forward a bit,

then, and come on the back of her tongue, then squirted twice into one

of her tender cheek pouches. She didn’t think she’d like the taste,

but she found that she did. It was part of him, something she could

hold on to. She gulped, taking it down in one swallow. “Yeah,”

Rachel said. “It tasted good.” The girls all gasped again,

pretending to be offended by this dirty talk when, really, they were

all curious about sex. Rachel was so wet now that she came to a

realization. “I wish I’d let him finger me, or eat me out.”

“Guys do that? Like, lick down there?” This was Samantha, who’d

supposedly had sex. Rachel only rolled her eyes. Her best friend,

who purported herself to be more experienced than everyone in their

group, could be so naive.

As Rachel was mulling over what to say next, she heard something

scamper past in the bushes beyond the campfire. Leah whipped around,

trying to see what kind of animal was there watching them, but

whatever it was, it had gone before her head turned. “Well,” she

said, “I think that’s my cue to go to bed.”

“Yeah, let’s get this fire out and move this party to the bunks.”

Rachel made a show of tipping the huge bucket of water onto the fire,

which sizzled, popped, and died before them. The girls linked hands

and ran back to the cabin before any more wildlife could make its

presence known.

The campfire gathering, despite its abrupt ending, was not to be

forgotten. It was proof that there had been some degree of

togetherness even at the beginning of the trip, and that togetherness

carried on through the night

- Chapter Four -

Friday Night

Katy woke up with a start. “What was that?” she gasped

instinctively. She was a light sleeper. When she was a child, her

brother had played so many pranks on her that she’d learned to sleep

with one eye open, as her grandfather called it. “We could have used

you in the war,” he always said.

Katy was interested in the darker side of things—her grandfather’s

frightening war stories. Missing children, particularly the ones the

news didn’t bother to cover. Sylvia Plath and Edgar Allen Poe. She’d

dyed her hair black at age twelve. Damien, at fourteen, had copied

her, a fact she never allowed him to forget.

In the cabin, nobody stirred. Katy checked the room. She didn’t

know why, but she felt like someone was watching her. She’d heard

enough stories about perverts and serial killers that she expected to

see a shadowed figure in the corner or hunched over one of the other

girls’ beds. But she saw nothing of note, just the slow movement of

tree branches outside the cabin’s single window. Now and then, the

tip of one immature oak branch scraped the dusty glass. In her bunk,

Samantha snored in a most unladylike manner. Rachel slept below her,

brown hair spread over the pillow in perfect waves.

Then, Katy noticed something—Leah wasn’t in her bunk. Before she

raised the alarm, Katy remembered what had happened on the bus. Sure

enough, though Erin, turned on her side, blocked most of her view,

Katy could make out Leah’s auburn hair on the pillow, a soft movement

under a single sleeping bag turned into a blanket. If Katy could have

seen below the blanket, she would have noticed they were both naked.

She only realized this when she saw their pajamas crumpled at the foot

of their bunk. Now, Erin rolled onto her back. Katy focused in on

what was happening. Erin’s head was turned to one side, dark, braided

hair matted against it. She was locked in a passionate kiss with

Leah. Their lips moved in unison, heads tilting upward and downward

together.

Below the sleeping bag, their hands moved in a similar rhythm. Katy

realized that they were touching each other. Later, she would learn

that Leah, for the first time, had her hand between Erin’s legs. For

the first time, she felt her girlfriend’s pussy, which was like hers,

but different in some ways. Her pubic hair was thicker in the middle,

shaved on the sides. Her clitoris was bigger and had more girth; it

felt like Leah would have imagined a miniature penis to feel. Leah’s

outer lips opened easily and her inner lips were longer, protruding

slightly from her pussy even when it was closed. Erin had more sexual

experience than Leah, at least in the sense that she’d masturbated

more. Leah fit two fingers into Erin easily and was able to massage

her large clit with two curled fingers. She wondered what it would be

like to suck it.

Erin told Katy later that she’d enjoyed experiencing Leah more fully.

She started off gently, massaging just her tiny clitoris, then

penetrating with a single finger. She felt a giving way, a pushing

back, and Leah gasped slightly; perhaps, Katy thought, it was a gasp

like this one that had drawn her from sleep. Not realizing they were

being watched, Erin and Leah carried on. The sleeping bag shifted

upwards; Leah was spreading her legs to allow easier access to Erin’s

hand. “I want to eat you,” Erin whispered into Leah’s ear, her finger

still working in and out of Leah’s pussy, now covered with her

wetness. Leah was now working three fingers in and out; with three

fingers, she could feel the squeeze of Erin’s inner muscles in deep

ridges against her fingers. They could smell each other, a strange,

musky mixture of scents familiar and unfamiliar.

“Okay,” Leah said, withdrawing her fingers and bringing them to her

nose. Erin positioned herself under the sleeping bag with her head

between Leah’s legs. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the juices

that were dripping from her freshly-fingered little pussy. She turned

on her flashlight to get a better look at it. As she’d imagined,

Leah’s pussy had a sparse layer of auburn hair, the same shade as the

hair on her head. Her lips hung slightly open from the fingering, the

dampness matting the hair. Erin licked between the lips, getting Erin

even wetter, delving her tongue into the hole she’d just opened with

her fingers. Leah was sweet-tasting, but there was a slight tinge of

blood. Erin didn’t mind it and opened her mouth wider, licked harder

with the broad side of her tongue.

At first, she had the desire to get her tongue into Leah, to

penetrate her as a penis would do, but soon she realized that there

was no need to imitate a man when eating another lesbian. Instead,

Erin focused on the areas that gave her the most pleasure—the

clitoris, the thick, floral outer edge of the vaginal opening, the

area between the clit and the hole. From under the blanket, she felt

Leah twitching; her muscles tensed around Erin’s tongue when she did

choose to penetrate. Erin knew she needed to finish Leah quickly,

before her panting woke anyone else up. So she did what she did when

she was ready to come. She thrust two fingers directly into Leah—more

than she’d done before. At the same time, she continued licking her

clitoris, which felt engorged against her tongue. Erin accomplished

her goal. Leah bucked under her, squeezing Erin’s fingers so tightly

they hurt. Moistness gushed out of her and into Erin’s palm. Her

entire torso trembled. The bed creaked underneath the two girls.

Leah’s clit trembled against Erin’s tongue. But she covered her own

mouth so she wouldn’t make a sound; the rattle of her orgasm subsided

and so did the creak of the bed.

Katy watched as Leah and Erin both stopped moving. She needed to

pee, and badly, but she didn’t want the lovers know she had been

watching. Leah turned over and wrapped her thin, white arms around

Erin’s dark torso, which was glistening with sweat. She thought she

might have seen Leah’s pretty eyes peer over her lover’s shoulder and

meet her gaze for a moment, but nothing was said, so she must have

been mistaken.

Once Katy was sure they had drifted off to sleep, she stood up and

tiptoed to the door of the cabin. She closed the door gently behind

her. When she got down the rickety, wooden stairs, she took off

running—past the smouldering campfire to the outhouse. She closed the

door, no time to lock it, and sat down on the toilet. Strangely

enough, she was only able to squeeze a single squirt of urine out of

her bladder, but she still felt full and swollen inside. She sighed,

deeply, waited for more to come.

Then, the door opened quickly, slamming against the side of the

outhouse. Erin, eyes frantic, stepped inside and snapped the door

shut behind her.

“Hey!” Katy exclaimed, cupping her hands over her crotch.

“What did you see?” Erin asked. Her voice was sharp. “Leah is

terrified you saw... nevermind.” Her hands, extended, fluttered in

the air, then dropped to her sides. Katy, sitting on the toilet,

should have felt vulnerable, but Erin, so strong and athletic, was

melting in front of her.

“Hey,” said Katy, this time more gently. “You know me, Erin. I don’t

care what you and Leah do. I don’t care what anyone does. I don’t

gossip, I don’t judge, I don’t complain.” Katy stood up, pulled up

her pants, and flushed the toilet. “I can relate to you, actually. I

know what it’s like to be different.” She started to tie the

drawstring of her pajama pants.

Erin’s frown turned to a smile. She must have misinterpreted things,

because, before Katy could say anything, Erin put her hands on Kate’s

hip , drew her forward, and kissed her. Katy surprised herself when

she didn’t resist. It felt good, these soft, flared lips against her

own. She tasted sweetness and knew that she was tasting Leah’s pussy.

Moving her lips against Erin’s felt so good. Katy hadn’t considered

herself a lesbian, or even bisexual, but now she was beginning to

question. Her hand stopped fumbling with the string on her pajamas

and rose up to Erin’s breasts. She felt them through Erin’s top, soft

bulges Erin usually kept hidden in a tight sports bra when she was at

school and playing sports. They were easily C-cups, much bigger than

Katy’s little peaks, which she’d so bravely shown during Truth or

Dare.

Before Katy knew it, Erin’s hands were on her breasts, too, touching

what she’d seen earlier. That full feeling from earlier, when she’d

run to the bathroom, was back in full force, and now even stronger.

Down below, Katy was so wet that she thought she’d peed herself, but

realized now what that feeling had been.

“Can you do to me what you did to Leah?” Katy asked.

Erin was on it before Katy finished her sentence, kneeling down,

bringing her pajama pants down with her. With those pants around her

ankles, Katy spread her legs. She’d started shaving her pussy as soon

as she’d gotten pubic hair. She didn’t like the feeling of the hair

against her clothes. Erin didn’t say anything about this and Katy was

glad; she was a little embarrassed of it. Erin licked from Katy’s

pierced bellybutton down to her shaved lips, tongue feeling broad and

warm against skin that was getting goosebumps.

She went right to work, lapping at Katy’s wet pussy lips, which were

already covered with her own moisture. Her tongue knew just what to

do; Katy felt her pressure mounting when Erin’s tongue started

swirling around her clit, her fingers probing at the opening to her

pussy. “I don’t want to go too deep,” she said, running a finger

around the shaved girl’s hole. “But you taste good.” Katy had never

thought about her own taste, but this made her feel good. “Very

salty,” Erin said.

Katy was trembling already. The pressure had turned to pleasure and

it was nearly unbearable. Erin carried on, licking from her clit to

her hole, and even tonguing that place between her pussy and her

butthole; Katy had never imagined anyone would lick there, but it felt

intimate and good. Her hips jerked, her body braced against the

outhouse wall. “What’s happening to me?” she asked. She couldn’t

control her movements. She was dripping wet, sending more juices into

Erin’s mouth. Erin didn’t seem to mind; now and then, she swallowed

or licked her lips.

“Haven’t you had an orgasm before, baby?” Erin asked.

“Um,” Katy said. She thought she’d had one, alone, in her bedroom,

fumbling with her shaved lips, her tiny clit, with her own fingers.

But the excitement was nothing compared to this. Erin lifted her head

and smiled. “Don’t stop,” Katy said. When Erin stopped, all of the

spit and juices on her pussy began to cool, and she wanted to be close

to Erin. She wanted to be warm.

“We have to get back soon,” Erin said. “So get ready.” She kept

licking at full force, now concentrating on lapping at Katy’s clit,

even sucking it into her mouth and licking its little bulb directly.

Her finger was going, too, penetrating Katy’s tight little pussy to

the first knuckle. Moisture dripped down Erin’s hand. She was

slurping at Katy’s entire pussy now, and Katy’s body started to jerk

even more uncontrollably. Her legs turned into jelly and she slid

down the wall, trembling as her clitoris exploded into this firework

of pleasure unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It was a warmth

that spread through her whole body. Her pussy tightened and squeezed

again and again. Her hips shook. And something squirted out of her

in hot, gentle waves. It felt a bit like peeing, but she knew it

wasn’t.

When Katy stood, she saw Erin wiping her face. “You’re a squirter,”

she said. There was clear, thick fluid on Erin’s dark hand.

“A what? Did that stuff come from me?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about this. Some girls squirt. I’ll tell you more

about it later if you want. But I’ve got to get back to Leah.”

“Wait, Erin.” Erin turned around. She was smiling. “Please don’t

tell Leah about this.”

“I won’t yet,” Erin said. “Don’t worry, girl. But we were always

going to have an open relationship.”

“A what?” Katy asked. For all the pleasure she’d experienced, she was

suddenly confused. She didn’t know whether to feel anxious or happy

about what had happened, but at the same time, stirrings of pleasure

still coursed through her body. At least she no longer felt like she

needed to go to the bathroom.

Erin looked back at her. “You look tough,” she said, “but you’re so cute.”

Katy pulled up her pants, saliva and her own fluids still dripping

down her legs. She waited a moment before returning to the cabin. On

her way back, she stopped halfway, just before reaching the campfire.

She had the same feeling that she’d had when she woke suddenly in the

cabin and felt that someone was watching. “Miss Arson?” she rasped

into the darkness, but nobody answered, so she scampered back into the

cabin and tried to put all of this out of her mind.

- Chapter Five -

Saturday Morning

Morning’s light reminded Samantha of the disgusting surroundings.

She’d come on the trip because she admired Miss Arson and wanted to be

with her friend Rachel, but she hadn’t expected camping to be so

filthy. The ceiling was covered with grimy handprints, which the

rectangle of light coming from the cabin door only illuminated. The

floor was muddy. The smell around was especially woodsy and Samantha

nearly died when she realized that it wasn’t just the cabin that

smelled.

She smelled.

Her blond hair was greasy and matted to her head. Her armpits were

felt sticky against her pajama top. Even the place between her legs

felt damp and sweaty. Samantha wasn’t used to her own scent. It

wasn’t all that unpleasant, as far as body odors go, but it was still

a body odor, and so, minutes after sunrise, Samantha found herself

shaking Rachel awake. “Come on, we have to go shower. We stink.”

“Rawr,” Rachel said, stretching her arms. “Just be rugged for a few days.”

“But I’m DIRTY!” She was nearly wailing.

“Sometimes dirty is good. Besides, that shower is going to be really

annoying.”

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re tired of pumping water after last

night.” Samantha said, rolling her eyes. “You were getting wet over

it.”

“Fine,” Rachel said, sitting up. “Let’s go shower.” Samantha was

already prepared with shampoo, conditioner, body wash and two towels.

The way the shower was meant to work, you had to pump enough water to

fill its tank, wait for the sun to heat the water, and then shower.

They didn’t have time for step two, so once Rachel had pumped the

water, she was ready to hop in. As quick as a ready little slut,

Rachel had her top off and stood, bare-breasted, preparing to take off

her pants. “Fine, fine,” Samantha said. “You go first, I’ll stand

watch.”

“I only pumped enough water for one shower,” Rachel said. “I’m not

superwoman, you know. Just get in with me. It’ll be faster, anyway,

and I won’t have everyone else begging me to pump water.”

For all of the complaining she and Rachel had done about lesbians in

the past few days, Samantha found herself pretty eager to stand naked

in front of her friend. She rationalized things—it was a popular girl

thing. She wanted to compare bodies with Rachel, to see how she was

measuring up. Rachel was now naked, her pajamas thrown over the

wooden fence beside the shower. She had developed quickly, with

large, round breasts that jiggled when she walked, a narrow waist, and

hips that were both narrow and shapely. She hadn’t bothered to shave

her pubic hair before the trip, so she had a sparse, brown thatch that

covered closed pussy lips.

Samantha knew she was hotter. She fully intended on modelling one

day, once she was old enough to defy her parents’ wishes. Rachel

stripped off her clothes, smelling the soft, earthy smell of her own

body odor. Her breasts were larger and perkier, the kind of breasts

most women had to pay for, perfect globes that created cleavage even

when she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her neck was long, her shoulders just

wide enough to offset her boobs. Her trim waist and flat stomach only

made her breasts look bigger. Samantha wiggled her ass, which was

muscular and as well-rounded as her breasts. She had a light tan all

over her body, and her pubic hair had been waxed off.

She ran into the shower as soon as Rachel turned it on, turning around

and bouncing in the water. It was cold. She needed to keep moving.

She looked down at the water beading on her breasts, cascading over

them and down her stomach, over that smooth, shiny and hairless pussy

mound, and down her legs. As she lathered shampoo into her blond

hair, she kept dancing. Rachel, beside her, was much more calm,

soaping up her hair while looking at her friend. Samantha didn’t

mind. She knew she was something to look at. She was, however,

surprised when Rachel, brown hair still sopping wet, squeezed some

body wash into her hand and placed it not on her own back, but on

Samantha’s.

“What the fuck?” Samantha said. She covered her mouth instantly. She

didn’t like to cuss, but this situation certainly called for it.

Rachel didn’t move her hand. She rubbed it up and down Samantha’s

back, from her shoulder all the way to her tailbone, fingers moving

against smooth and perfect skin. She did this twice, then moved her

hand away. “I just wanted to know what it feels like. I wanted to

see if it was the same with a girl as it was with Damien. Are you mad

at me?”

Samantha examined her friend’s face for a moment. Rachel’s brown eyes

had grown big and forlorn. Samantha put her hands on her hips. With

her legs spread, water still dripping down her body, running over her

clitoris, which was getting hard and hot, she finally answered. “No,

I’m not mad. I liked it, too.” She reached out and touched one of

Rachel’s big, bouncy breasts, groping it with her hand. She squeezed

the tender flesh, thinking of the naughtiness of all this—what did

girls do with girls, after all? She’d had quite an awakening this

week. Though she was the only one of the five who’d had sex—actual

sex—she’d had no idea that a boy might willingly lick a girl ‘down

there,’ and still had no idea what lesbians got up to together.

Still, thinking of all this was making her tingle in a way she hadn’t

when Mason Cafferty, an upperclassman who had since graduated, had

brought her into the closet at a party, bent her headfirst over a

low-hanging rack of someone’s winter clothes, and thrust his long,

narrow dick into her. That had hurt terribly at first, like being

jabbed with a knife. He’d spoken in obscenities throughout the

process. He was all, “Fuck, yeah,” and, “Oh, shit.” And eventually,

all of that thrusting and grinding had felt quite good—his heat

against hers, her juices trickling down her legs as he rutted her

quickly and brutally. The thrusting seemed to make her slicker,

wetter, more ready. He was sliding in and out without causing her

pain now, and her little channel was beginning to pop and crackle

around him. His mouth was on her neck, teeth biting down. But his

hand, grasping her perfect breasts, had seemed so rough and imperfect.

It was nothing compared to Rachel’s hand, which was now touching her

tender, tan nipple, stroking under her breast with such slow, soft

precision before cupping it and bringing her lips to it. The water

bathed them as this happened. Samantha was wet down below, and not

just from the shower water that was crisp and cold, which had made her

nipples hard and beaded her with cold droplets of water. Rachel

kissed and caressed, first one breast and then the other. Samantha

felt her own hands reaching out, finding Rachel’s soft, large breasts

again, and the girls fondled each other without a word. Then,

Rachel’s thin, beautiful hand was on Samantha’s chin, raising her

heart-shaped face. Their lips met. Neither girl was wearing

lipstick, so it was skin against skin. Samantha tilted her head back,

letting Rachel kiss her, feeling the pressure, the pleasure of

Rachel’s tongue entering her mouth, then the yielding of Rachel’s lips

as she allowed her mouth to be explored. She tasted so good. Mason

hadn’t kissed Samantha at all, unless those nibbles on her neck

underneath swept-aside blond hair had counted.

Samantha felt Rachel’s hand moving back down, but it passed over her

breasts and found her perfect stomach, followed the water down to her

pussy. Rachel opened Samantha’s lips and expertly massaged her clit,

pressing it against her pubic bone with two small fingertips. She ran

her fingers from Samantha’s clit, down the path between her pussy

lips, and dipped them into the wet and dripping hole. Samantha

remembered how it had felt—both before and after Mason had fucked her.

She didn’t like the word, but it described what he had done—all of

those pornstar thrusts, her feet lifting up on the ground, her hips

supported against his, her once-unopened little hole impaled on that

thing he bragged about to all the girls. Now, Rachel penetrated

just once with the two fingers, all the way to the second knuckle,

perhaps to see if it was true. She’d been fucked.

But Rachel was full of surprises. She washed her fingers off in the

shower water and took Samantha’s hand in hers, brought it to her

pussy, with its thin coat of down. “Show me how you touch yourself,”

Rachel said. Samantha blushed slightly, but any redness in her face

was hidden by the cold water.

Her shampoo bottle was long and narrow at the top. “I use this,” she said.

Rachel grinned. “Use it on me, then. And for you, I’ll use my hands.”

Samantha couldn’t stop this. Rachel leaned back against the wooden

wall of the shower stall, legs spread. Samantha took the bottle in

her right hand and moved the top of it—contoured lid on, the way she

did when she masturbated, up against Rachel’s puss. She rubbed from

clit to hole, the way Samantha had done with her, focusing her eyes on

the beautiful sight of her friend, opened up and pink on the inside,

being rubbed by the bottle. The neck of the bottle was smooth,

penile. Rachel’s hands reached out and she rubbed Samantha’s clit as

Samantha used the bottle on her. Then, Samantha positioned the bottle

at the opening to Rachel’s pussy, thrust upward, and impaled her on

it—the neck was only a couple of inches long, but Rachel gasped.

Samantha turned the bottle in a circle, working it around on the

inside, exploring her slowly before beginning to thrust.

Rachel was thrusting, too—two long, narrow fingers thrust smoothly,

cleanly, then three. Her knuckles hit Rachel’s toned, shaved puss

with every upward movement. They were covered with juices. Rachel

found herself gasping in excitement as she was penetrated. She

thought of Mason’s penis, that nine-inch monster that had turned out

to be so narrow. Rachel’s fingers were more skilled. They explored

her, inside out. They sensed and felt. Rachel made sure to bump

Samantha’s clit with her knuckles every time she got those fingers all

the way inside.

In the meantime, Samantha was hard at work with the bottle, moving

those two inches in and out, in and out, watching the bottle get all

steamy on the inside. She got her thumb working on Rachel’s clit,

circling it to get her hotter. She spread Rachel’s lips with two more

fingers, stretching her pussy opening wide, allowing for deeper

penetration with the bottle. Samantha heard a creak, off in the

distance, near the cabins—someone else was awake. But rather than

being frightened, she was turned-on. Her panting became louder, and

her hips began to move up and down with Rachel’s thrusts. She grunted

as she felt her orgasm building. She released, throwing her head back

to yell out, “Yessss,” the way Mason had done. Her pussy felt like it

was collapsing on itself, squeezing Rachel’s fingers out. She hadn’t

cum with Mason, but had cum thinking of him later, thinking of what

she could have done to that narrow dick with those muscles of hers.

Rachel rode her out, still thrusting, though the pressure on her

fingers kept her from moving them much. “Wow,” she said, “That’s...

something. Now, my turn. But quick, before anyone comes over here.”

Samantha had stopped using the bottle; it hung in one limp hand. She

found that she wanted to finish Rachel off, the same way Mason had

done her. “Bend over, bitch,” she said, but there wasn’t any

domination in her voice. She really did want to see Rachel bent over,

ass and pussy spread wide, in the running water. And that’s how they

did it. Rachel grabbed her ankles, revealing her flared, muscular

butt. She kept her legs spread wide, her pussy open, showing its pink

interior now rubbed red from all of the sex. Samantha jammed the

bottle’s neck right back into her. The juices running down Rachel’s

legs reminded her of the way she’d felt with Mason that night—all

moisture and gushing and excitement. She did remember the gushing—the

way her juices had gushed out with each thrust of that dick, the way

his cum had gushed out after he’d ejaculated inside of her. She

hadn’t known it was going to happen; she’d assumed he would pull out.

She felt his thrusts growing more rapidly, but assumed, again, that he

was going to wait until she’d cum—after all, with her tight little

hole and muscles that could crush an aluminium can, it would have been

a treat. But, no. “Fuck, yes!” he’d groaned, and he’d cum inside of

her in warm, wet waves that were too much for her to hold inside,

which slopped out and ran down her legs. She remembered smelling like

him the whole way home.

Here in the shower, with a girl, things were so much cleaner. But,

still, she simulated what she’d experienced with Mason as she pushed

the bottle in and out of Rachel’s pussy. She quickened her rhythm.

She slapped the side of Rachel’s firm ass. She reached forward and

groped her breasts, which felt full and heavy in her hands. She

pretended she had a penis, knowing this was sick as she did it,

holding the bottle to her clit and moving against the back of her

friend. This did it for both of them—Samantha didn’t cum again, but

she felt a tingle, another gush of wetness from her own pussy. And

Rachel came like a firecracker, pushing the bottle from her pussy,

falling forward so she had to support herself against the shower wall

with her hands. She came silently, entire body shaking, legs

trembling more than anything, before bracing her head on the wall of

the shower as well.

Then, the water ran out. “I’m still dirty,” Samantha realized.

“Yes,” said Rachel. “You are.”

They heard the same creak again—now, at least two more girls were up.

Samantha and Rachel dried quickly in fluffy white towels, then pulled

their clothes over still-damp flesh. On her way back to the campsite,

Samantha finally got Rachel’s joke. She was dirty. Ha, ha, very

funny. But by the time she’d reached the campsite, she was agreeing

with what Rachel had said when she’d woken. Sometimes, dirty is good.

- Chapter Six -

Saturday Afternoon

Erin knew too much. She knew what both Leah and Katy looked like with

their pants down. She knew the taste of them; the contrast of sweet

and salty was in her mind even now. And she knew that Rachel and

Samantha had fooled around in the outdoor shower that morning. When

the two of them heard the door creak open, it had been her. They’d

failed to hear her footsteps. An athlete, Erin was light on her feet,

and had stood, peeking through a knothole into the wooden shower

stall. What she’d seen had amazed her and given her ideas of what to

get up to if Leah was up to it. She’d never have thought of a shampoo

bottle herself. Vapid Samantha was good for something after all.

But Erin kept her thoughts to herself, thoughts of bending Leah over

and humping her from behind as though she had a penis. They were

hiking now, on a path leading up a hill, Erin lagging behind and

watching the other girls’ asses. Katy’s bony, little ass would look

great spread out, tight, shaved pussy open from behind with that

shampoo bottle sticking out of it.

Like Katy, Erin often kept to herself. As an athlete, she was loud

and boisterous. As a team captain, she was a natural leader. She

could organize a play or cheer her teammates on. But as a person,

Erin was reserved. Most people didn’t notice that she never talked

about herself because they were too busy talking about themselves.

People hadn’t known when she, at age twelve, had masturbated to

thoughts of other women or when she’d first kissed Leah earlier that

year. She knew about their first kisses and backseat fumblings, but

her life hadn’t been on anyone’s radar until that video had been

taken.

Erin could have thrown Samantha and Rachel’s experimentation back in

their faces, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want them to know

that she knew. It was the same with Katy—though Leah had agreed to an

open relationship, she didn’t want to tell Leah. She didn’t want to

make waves. She wanted this trip to pass her by like a pleasant

memory—no conflict. And the fact that she knew too much, but was

keeping her mouth shut, was going to ensure that.

Or so she thought.

Miss Arson was leading the girls in a song about a boy and a girl in a

little canoe. Katy mentioned that she and Damien had written a dirty

version at camp when they were little kids, but she wasn’t sharing the

lyrics. She kept looking around, like she had seen something

strange—a bear, maybe. Or perhaps she was just uneasy or tired of

walking. Katy wore so much eyeliner that it was difficult to tell.

Now, Leah lagged back and took Erin’s hand. “Had fun last night,” she

whispered. She was still dressing slutty, which Erin loved. She was

wearing her shirt from the bus, but had swapped the skirt for jeans.

They were walking uphill, in the shadows of pine trees. The air

smelled fresh, like Christmas morning. Erin cleared her throat and

inhaled deeply.

They reached a clearing at the top of the hill. A rickety park bench

and the remains of a campfire sat there, in an area where the trees

had been cleared. “Okay, girls,” said Miss Arson. “Let’s reapply our

sunscreen and have some water.” Canteens and bottles of sunscreen

came out of backpacks. Erin took some water, but she never wore

sunscreen. It was possible for her to get burned, but it had only

happened once in her life.

This didn’t stop her from slathering sunscreen on her friends, first

on Leah, starting with her freckled shoulders, exposed by a tank top.

Erin rubbed her hands over Leah’s collarbone twice, rubbing sunscreen

into them, smearing it down her arms. She paused for a moment to

press her thumbs under Leah’s sports bra, easily visible under her

tank top, rubbing sunscreen in, making sure she wouldn’t be burned if

the fabric shifted. She ran he thumbs up and down on the sides of her

soft breasts. Leah smiled at her. Erin moved on to the exposed skin

of her belly and back. She liked the contrast of her skin against

Leah’s.

She did Katy next, making things look casual even though Katy shifted

toward her, leaning her head back on Erin’s broad shoulder as Erin did

her arms. Katy sighed. “Is something wrong?” Erin asked.

“Not really,” said Katy. “I just feel like there’s something following us.”

“A bear?” Erin had worried about bears before coming on this trip.

Leah had convinced her that they were unlikely to encounter one. But

Rachel’s mention of bears at the campfire had put her a bit on edge.

“I don’t know,” said Katy. “It’s probably nothing. But when I hear

it, it’s more like footsteps. Maybe I’m going crazy.”

Katy wasn’t going crazy. As they walked up the next hill, Erin

thought she heard footsteps, too, light and secretive, the way hers

had been in the morning. It was like someone was walking parallel to

them, off the path in the woods. When they moved, it moved, whatever

it was. When they stopped, it stopped and didn’t move again until

they were on the move, chattering to each other. The next time they

stopped from water, Erin pulled Katy aside and looked into her

dark-framed eyes. “I hear it, too.”

Neither of the girls said anything. They were nearing the summit of

the hill; there was no way they could turn back. Neither of them

wanted to worry the other girls. In fact, Katy suggested a game.

“Let’s play ‘this or that,’” she said. “I’ll start. Samantha—go

three days without showering or kiss a girl?” Erin did a double-take.

Had Katy seen Samantha with Rachel, too?

“Kiss a girl, I guess,” Samantha said, surprisingly unshaken. “Leah,

eat a hot dog or suck a dick?”

Miss Arson’s head whipped around. “Should I have brought my

earplugs?” She was smiling. She walked a bit faster, separating

herself from the girls, but only by five feet or so. There was a

chasm ahead of them, a deep cut in the earth. Miss Arson crossed

first, over a rickety bridge that was missing one handrail. “Be

careful here, girls,” she warned, but kept walking, giving them their

privacy.

The girls crossed, looking down. There were trees and brush growing

up and down the chasm’s sloping sides, and they could hear water

running below. “That’s a long way down,” Leah said. “I can’t even

see the bottom.”

“Come on, Leah,” said Samantha. “Hot dog or dick?”

“Hot dog,” Leah said, but she sounded uncertain. “Rachel, who’s

hotter, Damien or Pierce Brosnan.” Rachel had an inexplicable

attraction to pierce Brosnan. In middle school, she’d carried a

picture of him around in her wallet.

“Bite me, Leah,” said Rachel. “I’ll have both, in a hot tub, thank

you very much. But if I have to choose, Damien, I guess.”

“Eww!” Katie cried, walking a little faster. She was smiling now,

too. Erin had nearly forgotten that she was worried. Then Rachel

asked her a question.

“Erin, who’s hotter?” Surprisingly, she left Leah out of the

equation. “Katy or Samantha.”

“Ummmm,” Erin said. She didn’t like being put on the spot. Finally,

she decided. “Samantha,” she said. She figured Katy would rather she

didn’t even hint at their attraction to each other, and she wouldn’t

mind finding out what Samantha tasted like, or penetrating her with a

shampoo bottle. She wouldn’t wash it in the water afterwards, either,

as those two had done. She’d lick it off with her tongue.

Just when everyone had completely forgotten about the footsteps and

Katy’s feeling they were being followed, they noticed that Miss Arson

had stopped. “Wait a second, girls,” she said. “There was just

someone in the path. He was standing up there, but he ducked into the

bushes when he saw us coming.” She held her hands out and stepped

backward toward them.

The wind blew, rattling tree branches above them. “Maybe he’s from

another group,” Erin said. “The summit must be just ahead.” But she

hadn’t seen this man.

“Are you sure there was someone there?” Samantha asked.

Katy answered for Miss Arson. “Yes, there was.” Erin looked into her

eyes; even with all the make-up, it was easy to tell now that she was

terrified. Katy continued, “And he didn’t look like he was part of a

school group.”

“What did he look like?” Leah asked.

Miss Arson replied with one word. “Dark.” But after a few moments,

her breathing settled down. “We’ve got to carry on, girls. He

probably didn’t mean any harm. We’ll get to the summit, but we’ll

keep an eye out and we’ll use the buddy system while we’re gathering

wood, and even when we go to use the bathroom during the night.”

The group started walking again. Erin felt her own heart pounding in

her chest, pounding in perfect rhythm with the footsteps that had

started up again—faster, faster. Someone was coming through the brush

beside the path. Branches cracked under his feet, and then he was

there among them, a man dressed in black jeans and a ragged, brown

shirt, with long, brown hair tangled and hanging down below his

shoulders. He had an unkempt beard and moustache and a wild look in

his squinting black eyes. He didn’t speak, just held out a knife

which gleamed as the afternoon sun reflected off of it.

He pointed it at Miss Arson, then brandished it at the girls. Leah

and Samantha screamed and jumped back. Erin pushed in front of Leah,

instinctively, and then took Katy by the hand, too. She, Katy and

Rachel stood strong, glaring at the man. Erin knew she should make a

move, a last ditch effort to save all of them, but this wasn’t a

playing field. She found herself paralyzed. Her legs, though strong,

were shaky. She felt unsteady. Staying in place in front of Leah

took every bit of her energy. She suspected that Katy and Rachel felt

the same way, even if they weren’t showing it. Samantha couldn’t stop

screaming. Erin’s ears were ringing.

For the longest time, nobody moved. The man, who stood at least six

foot four, was all muscle, was covered with mud with brambles stuck in

his beard and hair, glared at them. He gestured with the knife, as

though he wanted them to follow him into the woods. They weren’t sure

what he wanted with them, so they stayed still. And then, Miss Arson,

who was still standing between the girls and this monster, stepped

toward him. “Take me instead of them,” she said. “If you need

someone, take me.”

The man took her by the hand, pulling her against him. He pressed

the knife against her throat. Erin thought he was going to kill her,

but he didn’t. He turned, Miss Arson marching in front of him, knife

still at her neck, his hips pressed against the flare of her butt

through her jeans, and forced her off the main trail and down another,

a crude trail of dirt that led into the forest. None of the girls

were able to move or speak until they were out of sight.

- Chapter Seven -

Saturday Evening

At least the girls were okay. It was a small consolation when one

was marching through the woods with a knife at one’s jugular, but

there it was. She’d saved the girls, who she loved, and they would

send for help. It was 1989 and surely the bus would have some way of

phoning home when it arrived and the girls let the driver know there

was a problem. They’d be there in time to find what was left of her

body after this mud-caked man sliced her into little pieces and tossed

her into the woods. She thought this dryly as a wooden shack came

into view.

The afternoon sky was beginning to dim. The shack didn’t have any

power lines going in or out, but red-orange light flickered in the

windows and smoke puffed out of a rickety chimney at the top of the

cabin. Miss Arson hadn’t spoken during the walk. She didn’t want to

enrage him to the point where he would go back looking for the girls.

Now, with the girls certainly out of sight, she spoke. “Why are you

doing this?”

She couldn’t see her abductor, but she could smell him, overripe like

rotting flesh. Couldn’t hear him except for the deep rasping of his

breath. He didn’t answer her, but she sensed movement, something

swinging through the air—a tree branch, maybe. It struck her in the

back of the head, hard, and she was out.

Once upon a time, Miss Arson was not Miss Arson. Of course, it’s

hard for a sixteen year old to picture this, to picture Miss Arson as

little Emily. Even harder to picture Mrs. Callahan as little

Crispina, though they’d wondered, occasionally, if she’d been called

Crispy as a nickname. But Miss Arson had been Emily, simply Emily, no

nickname required. Emily had slept under a pastel pink comforter and

kept a light-up pink pony on her bedroom shelf for when she had

nightmares.

Like Katy, she sometimes woke up feeling like someone was watching

her, and not in a Santa’s Elves through the window way. There was

always something sinister following her through her mostly-pleasant

childhood. The monsters had caught up with her once and only once

and, like now, she had given herself over to them deliberately. There

had been a house at the end of the block, haunted, all the children

said. Emily said she didn’t believe it. She was raised without

religion—no angels watching over her. So she scaled a rickety, wooden

fence and knocked on the door. It wasn’t locked, wasn’t even closed,

so she, seven years old, stuck out her tongue at her friends and

walked inside.

She was wearing a pink dress and ballet shoes she almost never took

off. She was going to steal something from the house and run back

outside, but in the front room, there was nothing to steal. She was

headed into a dirty kitchen when the man grabbed her from behind,

lifting her, filthy hands under her arms, into the air.

He hadn’t done much. He’d brought her into a living room, sat down

in a musty, brown chair. The pink shirt was pushed up to her waist

and a dirty finger had prodded her, parting just the outer lips of her

pussy. “Nice little girl,” he said. She hadn’t screamed—in

hindsight, she should have screamed. The man moved his finger up and

down, brushing against her underdeveloped clitoris. He took her other

hand, forced it between his legs until it came to rest on the spongy

surface of his semi-erect penis. “You like that, little girl?

Because if you come back here again, that’s what you’re going to

get—this inside of here.” He pressed his finger upward; the pressure

hurt.

But he let her go, almost instantly after he’d said it. He let her

go and she ran out to her friends with the verdict—yup, haunted!

She’d tried to forget what happened. She knew she couldn’t tell her

parents, her sister, or the other children. Not if she wanted to move

on, that was. If she told, the incident would define her forever.

Even at the age of seven, she knew this. She didn’t want to be the

girl who got felt up by the creepy guy in the haunted house. So she

went on. She didn’t cry until she was in the shower, parting her

childish, hairless vaginal lips to wash them and found a cake of mud

from his fingers.

She collapsed there in the shower, huddled up with her knees to her

nose and let the stream of shower water wash over her until it went

cold. She felt alone and small as she stood, at last, to clean

between her legs.

As she’d promised herself, she hadn’t let the incident define her.

When the man from the haunted house had died alone and the body had

rotted for weeks before anyone noticed him gone, she was sixteen. At

that time, she realized that no one would ever know. She barely

thought of it, but maybe it was one of the reasons she had moved so

quickly away from everything that did define little Emily. She chose

a profession where her first name would seldom be spoken. She became

Miss Arson.

But now, as she woke up inside the cabin, in a cot by an open

fireplace, she felt like little Emily again, curled up in the shower.

She was naked, covered only by something pink like her old comforter.

Her head rested on a smelly pillow, slightly damp. There was

something hard beside her, hard and plastic. Her vision was still

foggy from being hit, but as it returned, she realized that the pink

blanket was actually a pink sleeping bag and the object beside her was

a doll, one of those expensive, German-made American Girls dolls that

could only be ordered from a catalog.

She didn’t want to be raped. She’d escaped rape once. That old man

hadn’t found a way to force his limp noodle into her, hadn’t even

tried. Maybe this would be no different. Maybe she could just run.

She couldn’t see the man anywhere. If she could just sit up and make

her way out of the cabin, she could disappear into the woods and make

it back to the girls. Her head was spinning as she sat. Still no

sign of him. She swung her feet off of the bed and stood. “Going

someplace?”

The voice came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. It could have

been the voice of God. She still didn’t see him as she tried to

stand, didn’t see him as he reached out from under the cot, grasped

her ankle and pulled her down to the ground. He’d been crouched

there, listening to her, passed out in the bed above. She was at his

eye level now as he crawled out, one hand reaching forward to grasp

her breast. “You’re not going anywhere, bitch,” he said, his fingers

rough against her. He was surprisingly agile. He sprang to his feet

and she realized he was also naked. She pictured her childhood

tormenter with his flaccid penis. This was different. Her

abductor’s penis was massive, nearly eight inches long, thick like a

small tree trunk, rock hard with veins bulging.

He reached down with a large, dirt-caked hand. She thought he was

going to touch her breasts again, but instead, he laced his fingers

through her hair and yanked her upward, straining its roots. She

screamed as he brought her to her knees, then pulled her onto the cot,

face down. Beside her, the doll dropped to the floor.

He gave her hair one last twist before he growled, “Don’t move.” Her

head was swimming again. She pressed her face into the fabric of the

pink sleeping bag, hoping for unconsciousness, but she found only

fetid dampness and body odor. The stench choked her, but she was

still awake to feel the knife pressing against her back, drawing one

line down, one line across her trembling backbone, her shoulderblades.

“Please,” she said. She’d heard that if you tell an attacker about

yourself, they won’t want to hurt you, so she gave it a try. “My name

is Emily. I’m a teacher at a Catholic school.”

“Shut up,” he said. Now, she felt his member against her slit. She

kept her pubic hair neatly trimmed. She felt him rubbing against it,

the clean-cut ends prickling the delicate skin underneath. There was

nothing left to say. Emily let her body go limp against the bed as

she felt the man penetrate her, the head of his cock forcing its way

into the dry channel of her vagina. She tried to think of it

clinically—it’s just skin against skin. But the smell of him, the

feeling of his hands, kept her in the moment. She felt every inch of

him stretching her and the sick feeling of the dirty moisture from his

penis lubricating her on the inside as he pressed deeper.

He worked himself into a rhythm, forcing his way in, then pulling out,

the raw flesh of the inside of her coming out with him. She felt like

she was being turned inside out like a used sock. His hand twisted in

her hair again as he kept fucking her—that was what he was

doing—fucking her like an animal. She screamed into the night,

knowing nobody would hear. She felt his hand come down on the back of

her head, on the sore and throbbing spot where he’d hit her with the

stick outside. She sank down—face onto the bed, mind into darkness.

The crack of a whip woke her. She’d been moved fireside, and was

splayed on the floor. Her pussy felt raw. It ached and throbbed in

time with her heartbeat and the spot on the back of her head. Semen

dripped out of her, growing cold against her chafed pussy lips. “Wake

up, bitch,” the man said, and cracked the whip again. Emily looked

over to the cot. The American Girls doll had fallen to the ground.

The blanket was twisted. A puddle of blood and semen dripped from the

edge of the sleeping bag, forming a sticky puddle on the floor—she

must have lain there on the side of the bed, face down, but she didn’t

know for how long.

Now, the man knelt beside her, tossing the whip to the side. “Clean

me,” he said, holding his limp dick, wet with her blood and his own

putrid juices, toward her mouth. She turned her face away, refusing

to give him the satisfaction of an answer. As quickly as he’d tossed

it away, he grabbed the whip again and slammed the butt of it against

her ribcage, knocking her breath out of her. She didn’t say anything,

but there was no avoiding it; she was at his mercy. She opened her

mouth. The deflated penis was inserted into her mouth. She gagged on

the rotten taste. He plugged her nose, giving her no choice but to

swallow.

He got hard again. She knew it would happen. Soon, his cock was

rutting in and out of her mouth. He withdrew it now and then to slap

her cheeks, to run it through her hair. She smelled like him now,

like spoiled meat and sweat. Every breath she took was laden with it.

She gagged, vomiting into her mouth. When she tried to spit it out,

he slapped her, rammed his cock down her throat again, and she felt

her head spinning. Choking on her own vomit, she lost consciousness

and yielded herself into his grasp.

When she woke up, she felt the prickle of wind against her skin. She

was outside, outside in the darkness, with shackles around her wrists

and ankles. When she tried to rise up, she could only get to her

hands and knees. Off in the distance, beyond a line of pine trees,

she saw the man standing, a silhouette, a shadow. She drew in a deep

breath. Her throat was now as sore as her pussy. The air was heavy

with smoke and fragrant pine. It was the first breath of fresh air

she’d had since... she could barely remember, she found. She couldn’t

remember where she’d been before this, how she’d gotten here. This

was survival. This was forcing air into stinging lungs even though

she didn’t want to breathe any more.

In and out, in and out, she breathed. She’d felt so many times during

this ordeal that she was going crazy. She would maintain her sanity

now, by breathing in and out, in and out. She would get through this.

It was then that she heard movement closer to her, something padding

through the trees, its steps softer than footsteps. The dog, a great

dane, barked its greeting and sniffed the used and dripping patch

between Emily’s legs. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She felt the

dog licking her, clit to asshole, sticking its tongue into her tight

rosebud to get her taste. She felt its claws on her back as it began

to mount her, the hard dowel of its member between her legs. But it

wasn’t her. This body wasn’t her, wasn’t Miss Arson, wasn’t even

Emily. It was only a body. Emily was somewhere else, hiding in the

trees, perhaps, watching the dog unsheathe its bright red penis and

press it into the pitiful woman kneeling in the mud.

There was feeling there, of course, a feeling of being overly full,

of being stabbed by a long and narrow dick. There was pain when the

dog’s claws ran down her arched back. But she wasn’t there. She

really wasn’t there. She told herself this throughout the rutting, a

different kind of in and out and when the dog tied with her and she

felt she was going to burst open from the inside out. This was a

disjointed fear, because it was just a body, not her body.

Not her body that was unshackled and dragged back into the house to

lay underneath a filthy and stinking man once again. As the man

fucked that empty body again, Emily, now floating somewhere on the

ceiling, looked down at the woman, covered with bruises, mud and

sweat, and laughed. She laughed until the woman was shackled again,

this time to the bed, kept laughing, laughing into the night, a sound

more terrifying than a scream.

- Chapter Eight -

Saturday Evening

There’s a moment after something traumatic happens where you just

freeze. It doesn’t matter that you’re supposed to be the strong one,

the stoic one, the morbid one. It doesn’t matter that your script is

written out for you—you can see your lines there before you, the

things you’re supposed to say. But you don’t say them just yet. You

stop. You freeze where you’re standing and taste the adrenaline in

your mouth for just one moment before you’re able to react, to read

those lines, to be yourself.

Leah figured this was the feeling animals got when they were being led

to slaughter. This was one of many reasons she was a vegetarian. Now

she knew the feeling firsthand and so did the others. One of their

number had been picked off, taken away, knife pressed to her back.

The girls all froze. Leah froze longer than the rest of them. She

watched the others react before she was able.

Samantha and Rachel laced their skinny arms together and cried into

each other’s flowing hair, the way popular girls do after high school

tragedies, crazy geeks shooting students or car crashes that take out

a cheerleading squad. Leah didn’t think of this comparison herself;

she’d heard Katy make it before when comparing high school tragedies.

Now they were in the midst of their own.

Erin stood with clenched fists. She was the tough one, was supposed

to be strong. Her emotions, however, betrayed her. Tears streamed

down her dark face.

Leah, of course, was frozen.

Katy was the only one who looked normal. She was breathing deeply,

almost rhythmically, but there were thoughts in her head, Leah knew

it, and those thoughts weren’t as shallow as comparing Samantha and

Rachel to girls who’d survived that Spencer girl school shooter who didn’t like

Mondays. Finally, Katy broke the silence. She took a deep breath and

said, “We need to go after them. We need to have a plan.”

Samantha looked up from her embrace. “Are you crazy? We have to go

for help.”

“There has to be a gas station or something if we walk to the main

road,” Erin said. Her words surprised Leah. She expected Erin to be

her protector, but she was trembling as hard as Rachel and Samantha.

Katy interrupted her thoughts. “There’s not time for that,” she said.

“And, besides, were you guys not on the same bus ride as I was?

There’s nothing for at least fifty miles. We’re literally in the

middle of nowhere.”

“We can wait for the bus,” Rachel suggested.

“The bus isn’t coming until tomorrow morning. Miss Arson will be dead

by then.”

“Look,” Samantha said, “She’s my favorite teacher, too, but I don’t

want to die.”

“Me, either,” said Erin, and Leah couldn’t help but think that this

wasn’t the Erin she knew so well, the Erin who she’d had inside of

her, first her hands and then her tongue. This scared person was

someone she didn’t know at all.

Katy sighed. “There’s five of us, six counting Miss Arson. There’s

just one of him. And we’ll have the element of surprise if we can

catch up to them. But we’ve got to go now.” All the fear had gone

out of Katy. She looked positively determined, like she knew what to

do, what was going to happen. She just needed to convince the others

to see what she saw so clearly in her mind.

The other girls were frozen again, their minds churning. It was a

scary thing, for certain, Leah thought, still isolated and silent.

She looked at Katy again and wondered what Katy’s lips would feel like

against hers—her upper lips and her lower. Then, guilty for that

thought, guilty for thinking about sex at a time like this, she

unfroze and spoke up. “Katy’s right,” she said.

- Chapter Nine -

Saturday Evening

Following Miss Arson wasn’t as hard as it looked, or so it seemed when

they started out. They didn’t remember how long they’d stood still

and argued amongst themselves, but she was well and truly out of

sight. However, Rachel, who’d been on her fair share of camping

trips, pointed out a poorly-beaten path that started in the ravine

below them. The brush was heavy, but there was a distinct, narrow

line of trodden dirt to walk. They traced it downhill until it

disappeared. Not even Rachel could find the path.

Katy took charge, pointing dead ahead. They followed her and found

themselves listening to the rushing sound Rachel recognized as the

chasm they’d crossed earlier. Here, Katy sat down and put her head in

her hands. The others sat down, distancing themselves from Katy,

breaking into couples. They dangled their feet over the chasm.

Rachel dropped a stone. She sighed, waiting for a splash, but it

never came. She waited at least an hour, watching the other girls

trembling on the edge of the cliff.

“What are we going to do?” Rachel asked, finally. She looked over at

Erin and Leah, who were clearly losing their drive, and Samantha, who

was now sprawled out, sleeping restlessly.

“We have to help Miss Arson,” said Katy, standing up. And there, in

front of her, was one of Miss Arson’s shoes. Katy’s eyes lit up.

“Look! She must have left this so we could follow her!” From the

location of the shoe, there was enough broken brush to lead the girls

back onto the path. Rachel put on her best girl guide act, which

seemed to reassure everyone else.

Katy took the lead, of course, Rachel behind her, only helping when

asked. Rachel led a reluctant Samantha by the hand. Leah and Erin

followed. Both once again looked ready for a fight. That was a good

thing, Rachel figured. They’d seemed so estranged earlier. The two

lovers hadn’t even hugged after Miss Arson’s kidnapping.

The sky was darkening. Flashlights came out of knapsacks. There were

severed tree branches on the ground all around them, which were hard

to walk over. The path became more difficult to follow and more

brambles and burs got caught in Rachel’s flowing hair. She swept it

back over her shoulder just as a rickety shack came into view. It

would have looked abandoned if not for a light in the window.

“She’s in there,” Katy said. “I know it.”

Erin grabbed one of the tree branches. “We’ll need weapons,” she said.

“Right,” said Katy. “Rachel, Erin and I will carry tree branches.

Samantha and Leah, if he manages to get close to us, it’s your job to

kick him in the nuts, claw his eyes, anything that will make him drop

to the ground so we can beat the hell out of him. If he drops the

knife, it’s also your job to grab it, because your hands are free. We

need to approach quietly, though, because we don’t know where he is.

And we can’t be detected, so I need all lights off.”

“But—“ Samantha started.

“But nothing,” Katy said. “We need to get Miss Arson out of there.”

She grabbed a tree branch and started out on tiptoe, steady and

certain on her feet. The others followed suit, staying in single file

in the same order they had on the path. They didn’t get far in

silence. They traced the treeline, moving toward the right side of

the house and suddenly, something ran toward them in the darkness on

four legs—a dog. It barked and snarled, bearing fangs that were only

just visible in the moonlight. “Back, back,” Katy whispered, guiding

the party back into the trees. “Let’s approach from the other side.”

They doubled back, then approached the house, this time without

disturbance. Without meaning to, they’d become a team. They worked

together as a unit, wordlessly, one following the other.

Rachel took a deep breath before crawling forward, the unofficial

scout. Slowly, she raised her head and peered into the window.

Inside the cabin, there was a fire flickering in an open fireplace.

Splayed in front of it was Miss Arson’s abductor, fully nude and

stretched out across a pink blanket of some sort. Rachel was both

enthralled and disturbed. The man’s heaving chest and belly were

covered by a thick pelt of dark, curly hair which thickened around his

groin. From the forest of pubic hair grew his penis, long and hard,

with veins popping up from under the skin. It was like a tree trunk,

thicker and larger than Damien’s dick, and was glistening with

something, she didn’t know what.

It kind of turned her on, made her get a shaky feeling in her legs, a

wet feeling in her pussy, and she felt guilty thinking it. It was the

same guilt Leah had felt thinking about Katy, but Rachel didn’t know

this yet. She turned her mind back to the task at hand. She scanned

the cabin, but didn’t see Miss Arson anywhere. She also didn’t see

the knife.

She reported this to her friends. “He’s in there. He’s naked and

sleeping in front of the fire. Unarmed, far as I can tell. I don’t

see Miss Arson, though.”

“All right,” said Katy. There was sweat beaded on her face, but her

eyes showed her determination. “We’re going in. Storm the door

first, and if that’s locked, we go for the window closest to it, break

it open and climb in. Remember our plan, girls.” She didn’t give

anyone time to protest and perhaps none of them would have. Erin

kissed Leah on the side of the head, then turned her head forward

again. Rachel stooped to smear lines of dirt onto her cheekbones,

like war-paint. She looked into Samantha’s eyes and saw her fear.

She didn’t want anyone to know what they’d done together, or that it

had bonded them to each other, but now, in mortal danger, she raised

her hand to her friend’s face and touched it lightly, from Samantha’s

high cheekbones to her regal chin. She left a muddy handprint. She

hadn’t meant to, but there it was.

That was all they had time for. “Go, go, go,” Katy whispered, and

charged toward the door.

It was unlocked, of course. The girls weren’t dealing with the type

of man who was afraid of anything or anyone. The door flew open and

the girls entered the cabin, single file, tree branches waving. There

was sweat running down Rachel’s face, gathering under her eyes,

dripping off her chin. She was terrified as she clutched the

splintered surface of the branch in her hands. The man wasn’t a light

sleeper. He was springing to his feet before she caught sight of him.

As he slept, he’d cradled something in his arms, something Rachel

hadn’t seen through the window.

Until he tossed it to the side, she was afraid it was the knife. He

looked like the type to sleep with a weapon. It wasn’t the knife,

though. What the man tossed to the side was an American Girls doll,

the same one Rachel had found in her bunk bed. Now, dread joined the

fear in the pit of her stomach. This man had been watching them,

following them. She looked over at Katy, who seemed to be coming to

the same realization.

They didn’t have much time to think about it. In front of them stood

the man in all his naked glory, arms in the air, legs spread with his

penis bouncing up and down between them, dangling like a pendulum,

rigid and perfectly timed. A drop of something—probably jizz—dangled

from the hole at the end of his dick-head. The hole looked big,

bigger than Damien’s, at least. There was a horrible, animal

expression on the man’s bearded face and he howled at the girls.

It wasn’t Katy who reacted first, but Erin. She swung her tree trunk

like a baseball bat and it landed right on the side of his head,

mashing his ear against the side of his face and displacing his jaw.

The girls watched as he fell to the floor.

Katy stepped forward and whacked him in the jaw for good measure. She

didn’t need to. Erin’s aim had been dead-on. His jaw had already

been broken and the man was out cold, lying beside his doll on the

floor with his arms and legs splayed and limp. The only life that

remained was in his dick, which had stayed hard. It twitched and

bobbed against one of the lifeless legs. All Katy had done was knock

out eight of the man’s front teeth, top and bottom. They scattered

across the carpet like dirty, yellowed pieces of a broken necklace.

“That was easy,” Erin said, but Rachel could tell by her voice that it

hadn’t been easy at all.

“Now,” said Katy, “Where’s Miss Arson?” While Rachel and the others

stood, gaping mouthed, over the body of the man, wondering if he was

dead or not, finding their answer in the heave of his chest, the bob

of his dick, Katy followed a faint sound into the night.

Later, she would tell Rachel about it before she told the others,

because Rachel had been so helpful in keeping them on the trail to the

cabin. Because Rachel had been the lookout and Katy needed a lookout,

because what she’d seen was so terrible she could no longer keep it to

herself.

The cabin had a back door, which stood open. Without the glow of the

city, the moon and stars shone brightly, casting a glowing light onto

the scene before Katy. Miss Arson hung limply by her wrists between

two trees, chained with handcuffs to a branch on one side, a tight

knot of rope on the other.

At first, Katy thought she was dead, but then she heard something deep

and guttural. At first, she thought Miss Arson was crying, but as she

inched closer, she realized she was laughing maniacally. Like the man

inside, she was completely naked. Like the man, she looked

unconscious, but her eyes were open and she was staring blankly at the

ground, laughing now and then. Blue bruises bloomed at her hairline

and on her cheeks, only just visible in the moonlight. Her large

breasts were black-and-blue, as well. Her legs were spread out, just

barely supporting her, and her pussy was visible, hanging open like a

gaping wound. Under her spiky pubic hair, she’d been rubbed red, and

blistered in some places. Her vagina had gotten the worst of it. Her

inner labia were caked with dried blood and opened to reveal a

stretched and bleeding hole. Gobs of semen leaked from the hole,

tinged with bright red blood, trailing down her legs to the ground.

“Did you really see her that vividly—all the colors, the dried blood

and the bruises, in just moonlight?” Rachel asked when Katy told her.

“Yes,” Katy said, “And if you’d have followed me out there, you would

have seen it, too.” It was an image Katy would never quite get out of

her mind.

Katy moved forward and put her hand on her teacher’s shoulder. “Miss

Arson?” Miss Arson bucked backward, now done laughing and trying to

scream, but all that came out was a hiss of air. She couldn’t back

away from Katy; the trees were strong and did not bend. “Miss Arson,

it’s Katy.” As Miss Arson leaned forward, a lattice of whip marks was

revealed, along with deep, animal scratches that led from her

shoulders down to her hourglass hips and the indentation that marked

the top of her buttocks.

Katy pursed her lips when she told Rachel this part. Rachel knew

exactly what Katy had realized at that moment—he’d had the dog rape

her, too. Strong as she was, Katy wanted to throw up. She choked

back the bile in her mouth as she untied the one wrist, leaving Miss

Arson standing like a zombie, one hand raised and handcuffed to a tree

branch.

She ran into the room. “We need to find a handcuff key. Miss

Arson’s out back.” The girls rifled through the cabin; Leah looked

through animal bones on rustic shelves, Rachel looked under one cot,

Katy looked under the blankets on another. Finally, Erin found them.

The keys were hiding in plain sight, sitting on the bearskin rug

beside the still-unconscious man.

Katy released Miss Arson and led her into the cabin, still zombie-like.

This was the first look the rest of the girls got at her. They were

shocked. Rachel, in particular, started crying all over again.

Miss Arson was indifferent to them. Her eyes were blank and now she

was staring up at the ceiling, even though nothing was there. “Come

on,” Katy said. “Miss Arson, please, we need to get going.” Miss

Arson tried to hiss something, but her voice was still gone. Her face

was so pale, her body so shaky. Katy found her clothes stashed in a

corner and began to dress her, bra first, then shirt, then panties

over the horrible and weeping wound between her legs. As she was

trying to get Miss Arson into her jeans, Samantha spoke.

“We can’t just leave this... thing,” she said, gesturing toward the man.

“What do you mean?” Katy asked. “We need to get Miss Arson down the

hill so we can get her to a hospital.”

“I think we’ve got time enough to make this fucker pay,” Samantha

said, an evil grin on her face. “Do to him what he did to Miss

Arson.” Rachel thought she knew her friend, especially after their

filthy episode of shower sex. She knew that Samantha was sexually

experienced but a bit naive about the kinkier side of things. She

also knew that Samantha was up for nearly anything; her work with the

shampoo bottle proved it. What she didn’t know was just how twisted

Samantha would get. She was about to find out.

- Chapter Ten -

Saturday Night

Samantha was thinking of the way Mason had fucked her, in more ways

than one. She was thinking about his big, long dick, which he’d named

“The Monster.” Lying on the floor at her feet was the real monster.

Two monsters, really—the man and his dick. The second monster, the

one Samantha was interested in, twitched between the man’s legs, long

and hard, tantalizing, already dripping with cum. Samantha had been

fucked by a guy. She’d fucked a girl with a shampoo bottle. She’d

never fucked a guy, never been in control. She was about to. For

revenge, for pleasure, it didn’t matter. She was slick inside, slick

and smooth and wet. She could feel her body pumping hormones, pumping

adrenaline. She wanted to ride this man until his cock broke off.

“Do to him what he did to Miss Arson,” she repeated, and started to

unzip her pants.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Rachel. “Do what? Torture him?”

Samantha was more blunt about it. “Rape him,” she said. “And torture him.”

Katy, who was struggling to get Miss Arson’s shoes back on feet

swollen and covered with claw marks, looked up for a second. “That

sounds fair, Samantha,” she said. She stood, leaving Miss Arson to

struggle with her own shoes. “Move the cot to the center of the room.

Tie him to it with the same rope and handcuffs he used on her.”

It took four of the five girls to lift the man. Samantha ended up at

his head, hands under his big, sweaty shoulders. She peered down at

the man’s face, his toothless lips sputtering as he breathed. He

didn’t deserve to breathe, she thought. Not after what he’d done. In

the meantime, Katy led Miss Arson into a corner. Samantha heard Katy

speak gently. “You stay here. You don’t need to see this, but we’re

going to get him for you.” Miss Arson, who had yet to say a word and

was still drooling and barefoot, obeyed and Katy rejoined the group.

The girls dropped the man onto the cot. Katy returned with the rope

and handcuffs, which they used to hook the man to the cot—cuffs

locking his arms underneath it, rope securing his legs. His penis

stood erect, the highest point on his body. “Look at that monster,”

Samantha marvelled.

“We should cut it off,” said Katy.

“Oh, no,” said Samantha. “Not until I get to ride it.”

“What are you, sick?” Rachel asked. “A soap bottle is one thing, but

that’s really, really big.” Luckily, nobody asked about the soap

bottle; Samantha wasn’t quite ready to explain what had gone on in the

shower yet. She was, however, ready to take her anger out on this

guy, and boy was she angry. She finished unzipping her jeans, kicked

them to the side along with her underwear, and lifted her shirt. The

other girls stared at her as she stood there, wearing only her black

sports bra, gazing down at the man she held captive.

He was quite disgusting, really, except for his marvellous cock. He

was fat and stinky, covered with hair. While Samantha was deciding

where to start, Katy brushed her arm. “Here’s the whip he used on

her,” she said. They joined hands and whipped him together, starting

at the chest and moving downward to the man’s legs. When the third

blow landed, the man’s eyes snapped open and he looked right at

Samantha.

Samantha squeezed the whip harder and gave him ten more blows. The

whip left red, angry cuts with ragged edges. The man groaned in pain.

“You sorry for what you done?” Erin asked, stepping forward. Leah

huddled behind her. The man clenched his teeth—or, rather, the space

where his teeth should have been, gum on gum, and shook his head no.

Erin unzipped her hiking shorts and tore off her shirt. She took off

her bra, as well, letting her pert, athletic, caramel-colored bosoms

bounce free.

She ripped off her underwear, balled it up, and stuffed it into the

man’s mouth. “I’m not interested in anything you have to say on any

subject unless you’re ready to confess your sins.” Samantha couldn’t

help but smile. She sounded just like the teachers at school—all of

them except Miss Arson.

And, while they might have implored the man to confess, they wouldn’t

have approved of what she was about to do, for as soon as Erin stepped

away from the man, Samantha climbed onto him. She straddled his hairy

chest; the hair tickled her shaved, little pussy. She left a slimy

trail of her juices along his chest and got her bearings by gripping

the man’s wrinkly, brown nipples. Erin’s underwear muffled his scream

as Samantha twisted the tender flesh. Now fully balanced, she leaned

back, unhooked her bra, and let her tanned and shiny breasts loose.

Though he was clearly in pain, still bleeding from the whip, the man’s

penis only grew harder. He couldn’t help but be turned on by this

beautiful girl who was riding him. Samantha lifted her body, giving

the man’s nipples another rough twist, and eased herself down on his

penis. She felt it penetrate her, leaking pre-cum already, which

soaked her hairless outer lips. Feeling the full girth of him, she

bore down, shifting back and forth on her hips as he entered her more

fully. It was different being on top. Samantha was in control now.

If she wanted, she could tease this man forever, just allowing the

head of his penis to enter, then drawing back, abruptly, forcing it

out of her body with an audible pop.

But Samantha wanted the whole thing. After teasing for a few moments,

moving up and down, controlling the shallow penetration, she pressed

down as hard as she could and his cock—she’d heard that word

somewhere—slipped all the way inside, opening her up, filling her as

she had never been filled before. She felt rip-roaring pressure on

the walls of her little pussy and her cervix, and had to wait for her

body to adjust before getting into a rhythm with this monster, moving

up and down, up and down, letting the huge member slide all the way in

and then all the way out, twisting the man’s nipples as she moved

along.

She felt the monster cock’s juices mixing with her own. The gooey

mixture slopped out of her, tangling in the man’s thick pubic hair.

Samantha kept riding, using all her force on him. She’d been

powerless before, but now she held the power. She’d been fucked, but

now she was fucking. She didn’t notice Rachel beside her until she

felt a gentle hand under her chin. Samantha turned and Rachel’s lips

met hers. They kissed passionately, moving their lips hard against

each other. Samantha no longer cared if people thought she was a

lesbian, but how could they when here she was, filled to the brim with

dick.

When Rachel finally broke the kiss, she said, “Ride ‘em, cowgirl.”

And Samantha kept riding, taking every bit of her aggression out on

this man who had hurt Miss Arson. She bounced her way to her first

orgasm; her body curled at the spine and she shook from her head to

her toes, shrieking and throwing her head back at the height of it.

Her pussy squeezed the man’s dick so tight that she thought she was

going to burst it if such a thing was possible. The dick didn’t

burst. The man didn’t even cum. So Samantha kept riding.

She might have gone on all night with the rest of the girls standing

and watching, Katy cracking the whip against one of the man’s arms now

and then, Erin slapping his face to make sure he stayed awake and

focused. But Leah, timid Leah, took her arm, not to tell her that

enough was enough, but to ask for a turn. Samantha slid off of the

monster penis reluctantly, her pussy leaking pre-cum and juices.

Leah had been touching herself and Erin had been fingering her, so she

was ready for it—at least somewhat. She’d never had a dick before, so

she was understandably nervous. But if she was going to be a lesbian

for the rest of her life—and she was pretty sure she was---she needed

to try straight sex at least once. Or at least that’s what she told

the others later when explaining her logic. With Erin guiding her

hips down on the man’s cock, Leah looked terrified as he penetrated

her. “It’s okay, baby,” Erin said, pushing her hips down. The entire

group heard the head of the huge cock pop into Leah. Leah gasped.

And then she was off like a madwoman.

She fucked the man every bit as relentlessly as Samantha had done,

twisting his nipples out of spite, following her friend’s twisted

suit. She didn’t take the dick quite as deeply as Samantha had, but

she took it, let it stretch her, and, just as the man’s hips were

tensing, she sprang off of his dick before getting a shot of cum in

her pussy. She smiled. “Dodged a bullet there,” she said, making a

fist and punching the man’s penis.

The man sputtered and tried to shout through the undies. He’d wanted

to cum inside the pretty little hippie, of course, and he hadn’t been

able to. Rachel stepped forward. She had other plans for his cum.

She stood over the man, opened her mouth, and gave him a toothy

blow-job. He tasted terrible, she would tell the others later. The

only redeeming part of it was the residual taste of Samantha and

Leah’s sweet pussies. Once that was gone, it was like eating

half-liquefied rotten fish that filled her entire mouth. But she

wanted to do it, wanted the pleasure of driving her teeth into this

guy’s dick as he tried to hold back his orgasm.

He lasted about forty seconds. Rachel applied just enough pressure to

his cock, sucking and swirling her tongue around the dickhead between

nibbles into his flesh—that he burst shortly. She held just the head

of his dick in her mouth, wrapping her hands around the monster cock

as she guided it through its orgasm. Rachel didn’t swallow a drop.

She held it in her mouth and proceeded to yank Erin’s panties out of

the man’s mouth. Then, she kissed him roughly, not the way she’d

kissed Samantha at all, and spat all of the jizz into his mouth. She

replaced the panties and let him choke on it.

The girls watched the man’s eyes turning red. Samantha climbed up and

sat on the man’s face, choking the breath from his nose with her

well-used, hairless pussy. She held herself over his nose until he

was out.

“Let’s flip him now,” Samantha said. “So we can whip his back.”

All five girls flipped the heaving man over. He was taking halting

breaths through his nose now, still alive, but not happy. Katy handed

the whip to Erin, who streaked his back with the same gaping wounds

that graced his front, focusing on his ass, already lumpy and pimpled.

Nobody noticed that Katy had gone outside.

Samantha had found a poker from the fire—not heated up, but still long

and uncomfortable, and was probing the man’s asshole when Katy

returned. “I’ve got a better idea than that,” she said. She had the

man’s dog, its penis hard and angry. At first, it took no interest in

the man, but Katy knelt beside it and massaged its penis with her

hand, drawing the bulbous red head even further out of the dog’s

foreskin. She rubbed the penis and its sheath until the dog was

ready, looking around for anything to fuck. Katy was left with a

juicy hand full of dog smegma. Samantha guided it onto the man,

holding his ass cheeks open for easier entry. The dog’s dick was long

and narrow; it found its mark and stabbed.

The man’s scream could be heard, even through the cum-soaked panties.

Katy wiped her smegma-covered hand across his nose. That shut him up

for a while; he gagged into the panties as the dog continued its anal

attack. The girls watched in amusement as the dog pummelled the man’s

anus with his dick, stabbing in and out, changing direction and

eliciting more muffled screams. The dog’s claws traced ugly scratch

marks down the man’s back, crooked series of lines like the girls had

seen on Miss Arson. Amid the pleasure they found in watching the man

get brutally raped, they understood that this had happened to their

teacher.

By the time Samantha remembered that Miss Arson was right there,

sitting with her head turned to the corner, the dog had shot its wad

and withdrawn, dragging a trail of blood, shit and cum that trickled

down the man’s hairy inner thighs. Samantha looked to the corner.

Miss Arson had turned and was staring at the man’s violated backside,

nodding her head. She had one hand in her jeans; she was touching

herself.

“I think it’s time,” Katy said, finally. Flip him back over.

Samantha had lost track of Katy while the dog was doing its business.

She’d gone back toward the cabin’s rudimentary kitchen, but for what,

she was not sure. The girls followed Katy’s command, however, and

flipped the man onto his back once again. He was too weak to resist.

His penis had softened, but kept some of its length. It lay, coiled,

in the thatch of pubic hair. Katy took it in her hand, spat on it,

and moved her fist up and down, working him til he hardened again,

against his will.

His ass must have been stinging because he kept wiggling his hips,

trying to get away from Katy’s hand. Nevertheless, his penis sprang

alive, almost immediately reaching its full length. Samantha was

surprised when Katy climbed onto the man and impaled herself on the

newly hardened penis, but she wasted no time in getting behind her

friend, in between the man’s parted legs, and helping her bounce up

and down as she lost her virginity to the monster. It was an angry

fuck, like Samantha’s had been, and Katy kept her shirt on for it.

Samantha, feeling out of control and incredibly horny, tried to get

the shirt off, copping a feel of Katy’s perky tits as she did. That’s

when she felt it—something hard nestled under Katy’s arm.

Before she realized it was a knife, Katy popped off of the man, penis

sliding out of her, coated in blood and juices. He probably thought

he was going to shoot his load into the crazy goth girl, but he was

wrong—and how. Katy revealed the blade the man had used to kidnap

Miss Arson. She held it in front of his face. And promptly brought

it down between his legs. Without hesitation, she gripped the head of

the man’s penis, brought the knife to its base, and cut it right off.

The gush of blood was instant and overwhelming. It came out in a

pressurized spray, coating the man’s body and the entire cot with

freshly-spilled plasma. Katy held the severed penis over the man’s

face as it softened in her hand. The man was able to see what she’d

done as he lay dying. Erin pulled the panties out of the man’s mouth.

“You sorry now?” she asked.

The man grunted. “Yes,” he said, or at least that was what the girls

would believe he’d said.

“I don’t forgive you,” Katy said, and she shoved the man’s dismembered

penis into his mouth.

Death came quickly. The pressurized spray of blood, which had been

like a firehose, slowed to a pulsating gush, then a trickle, and then

stopped altogether. The man’s eyes were open, pleading with the girls

for a mercy they could no longer offer. Choking on his own penis,

bleeding from the gaping hole between his legs, he breathed his last

and died in front of them.

Katy, covered in blood, hugged Samantha to her, forming a blood

sisterhood, a twisted sisterhood that would last the rest of their

lives. The others joined them in their embrace. They’d all been

there, had all participated, even if they hadn’t been penetrated.

They hugged tightly, covered with blood and mud, only breaking the

embrace when Katy said, matter-of-factly, “All right, girls, we’ve got

to get down the hill by morning. And we’ve got a body to get rid of.”

Chapter Eleven -

Sunday Morning

Katy didn’t realize she’d formulated a plan until she spoke. She’d

never wanted to become a leader; she preferred to stay in the shadows.

But this situation had been forced upon her and she had led her

friends to this strange and bloody victory. She wasn’t about to let

things go wrong at the end.

The man’s body was heavier now that he was dead. They wrapped him in

his own sleeping bag, leaving him handcuffed, keeping his legs tied.

There would be no horror movie scene with this asshole waking up and

staging a final attack. This body would not disappear until she

wanted it to. Erin and Rachel dragged the body along the path while

Leah and Samantha lit a campfire. All of the tension between the

girls had gone, especially now that everyone realized Samantha and

Rachel were just as queer as Erin and Leah. Katy ensured that

everything bloodstained or cumstained went into the campfire, from the

cot’s dirty pillow to Erin’s panties. When the fire was out, all that

remained was ash.

Katy took a final sweep over the cabin. One of the cots was empty.

She glanced back at the other one; they hadn’t touched it. She,

Samantha and Leah, aching to the bone, led Miss Arson down the path to

where Erin and Rachel had the man’s body. They stood at the edge of

the gaping chasm they’d passed before, ready to roll it in. “One,

two, three,” they counted, and they pushed the body over. When they’d

thrown rocks into the chasm, they’d heard nothing—not a crash or a

splash. This time, they heard both—the sound of breaking trees and a

hearty splash as the body hit the water. They stood for a moment,

surveying their work, the utter lack of evidence.

“We must never tell anyone about this but each other,” Katy said, and

knew that the rest of them understood. They were bonded by these

events, sisters forever, in a way. All of the girls answered in the

affirmative. Only Miss Arson had failed to respond. “Miss Arson, are

you in agreement?”

Finally, the teacher spoke, softly, as though the word caused her

great pain. “Yes,” she said. The speech barrier broken, she

continued. “It’s best if we pretend this never happened.”

But the girls, Katy in particular, knew that was impossible. They

would need to talk about it, would need to support each other through

the memories and protect each other from any other threats that came

their way. Having lived through this together, it was the least they

could do.

Katy led her band down the hill, Miss Arson beside her, hands on her

shoulders for balance. She felt the sun rising, sunlight on her face.

Less than half a day ago, she didn’t know if she would live to see

another new day and now there were thousands of new days before her.

Back at the cabin, the shower was pumped and Katy watched as her

friends used it. There was no privacy now. She got a look at

everyone naked, from Erin’s body, dark and athletic, but somehow

gentle as she washed Leah, head to foot, to Rachel and Samantha in

their skinny, valley girl beauty as they kissed passionately under a

stream of water. Katy was back to her role as observer.

She watched Erin rinse the disgusting woodsman’s pre-cum out of Leah’s

vagina, fingering her tenderly, spreading her lips and whispering

something in her ear. Leah responded in turn, fingers inside of Erin,

fucking more roughly. “It was like that,” Leah said, this time out

loud. “It hurt, but it felt good, too.”

Katy watched Rachel lick Samantha’s pussy clean, Samantha grinning a

twisted and toothy grin as she spread her thin legs further, letting

Rachel get right into it, get all of the sweat and stray hairs out.

She’d ridden the man the hardest and longest and was the dirtiest on

the inside. Rachel didn’t seem to mind, went after her with a broad

tongue in the big places, and the tip of her tongue in the little,

tiny ones. They finished off with a deep kiss and several mouthfuls

of water to get the taste out of their mouths.

When it was Miss Arson’s turn, Katy gave her some privacy. It was

what she felt her teacher would want. She’d always considered herself

a little bit twisted, maybe not as twisted as Samantha turned out to

be, but twisted. She got off watching her friends fool around after

killing someone and disposing of the body, but watching a raped woman

was just too much.

Finally, it was Katy’s turn to shower. She thought over the sexier

events of the day, even thinking back to her encounter with Erin in

the bathroom, and she rubbed her own hardened clit, pressing it

against her pubic bone. She pressed two fingers into her newly opened

vagina, satisfied that she’d lost her virginity on her own terms, and

that something good had come of it—the man’s punishment, the girls’

friendship. She came quickly, water rushing over her, and leaned back

against the shower wall to ride out her orgasm. Fluid squirted out of

her, mixed with the stream of water from the shower, and sank through

the porous surface below.

By the time Katy pulled her clothes back on, she was completely

satisfied, and the school bus had rolled into view. Newly washed, the

five girls and Miss Arson didn’t betray what had happened to them.

The bus driver noticed nothing amiss. He kept his eyes on the road

and pulled away from the campsite.

Katy looked around the bus, at Erin and Leah cuddling together, Rachel

and Samantha whispering secrets in each other’s ears, and finally at

Miss Arson, who looked almost normal. Now and then, she cringed

slightly, a painful memory crossing over her face like a cloud briefly

overshadowing the sun. Katy worried about Miss Arson, and would

continue to worry about her more than the other girls.

And now, thinking back, she was worried about something else. She’d

been sure to burn all of the evidence. The man’s body was rotting in

a river. But something in the cabin left her uneasy—the second cot.

Why would a solitary woodsman have two cots to sleep in? Had there

been someone else living in the cabin? She tried to dismiss her fear,

but no matter how she tried to control her mind, it kept wandering

back to that second cot, made up with another set of blankets. She

bore these thoughts, like a penance, the entire way home.

Epilogue

From behind a rock, hidden amongst the trees and undergrowth, he watched.

He listened and he learned names and places. From the side of the

bus, he learned not only the name of the city but also the name of a

school.

It will take planning and caution, but he will do what must be done.

If he bides his time, vengeance will be his--vengeance for his brother

and vengeance for himself.

Without his brother to rein in his demented and tortured mind, he will

tear them limb from limb. And why not have a little pleasure along

the way?

He reached down and stroked his American Girls doll against his erect

cock as the dust from the departing bus settled on the ground.

End