Cautiously, Betty Wingate pushed open the door to the dilapidated building. She tiptoed inside, squinting to see in the half darkness. "Ben?" she whispered hoarsely. "Are you here?" That was silly, she thought to herself. How could he be here. His car had not been outside. Of course, he could have parked it a block or so away, not wanting anyone to see both their cars and suspect what might be going on in the empty building.
She picked her way along over the beer can littered floor. What she had heard about this being a hang out for teenagers must be true. What a strange place for Ben to pick for them to meet. Still, she decided with a shrug, he must know what he was doing.
There was a sound from behind a bale of rags in the far corner. "Is that you, Ben?" she whispered loudly. "Don't jump out and scare me, Ben. I don't like surprises." She moved forward, toward where the noise had been.
"Nice you could make it, Miss Wingate," said a gruff voice behind her.
Betty whirled around, her heart pounding. There stood Dale Paulson and a hugely muscled young black man dressed in motorcycle leathers. Both of them were leering at her.
"Dale, I… what are you doing here?" She fought to control herself, trying to hold her panic at bay.
The dark boy chuckled and pushed his greasy hair away from his forehead. "We've been waiting for you, Betty, all four of us, ain't we, Bear?"
The negro nodded, his big hand going instinctively to his tightly packed crotch.
"Four of you? I don't understand, I… "
"He means us," came a new voice.
Looking behind her, Betty saw two more boys, a redhead and a greasy looking blond.
"I… I don't understand," Betty mumbled, her voice weak with fear.
"Don't you really, Miss Wingate?" Dale said, grinning cruelly as he advanced toward her. "You said that before. You're smart, so damn smart the way you come on in the classroom. I can't believe you don't know what we're after."
"You can't! No!"
Dale threw back his head and guffawed with laughter. "What the fuck you take us for, Lady? Of course we can. We can do anything we fuckin' please. Can't we, Guys?"
The other three grunted assent. All of them were approaching her now, and Betty could feel the hotness of their presence. Her nostrils were filled with the dark smell of young males in heat. She was terrified. An icy chill ran down her back, and she glanced from one of them to another fearfully. "You'll be caught," she whispered, her tone quivering.
"What makes you think so? Who'd catch us?"
"My friend, Ben Sommers. He's meeting me here. He'll come through that door any minute."
"Shit, Lady," Dale snarled, now so close to her that Betty could feel his hot breath on her cheek, "you really are dumb, aren't you? Did you really think that note you found came from Horsecock Sommers?"
Betty's eyes grew wide. Her red mouth gaped open in fear and amazement.
"That's right, Bitch," Dale said. "That note was just a way to get you here. Nobody knows where you are, not even your big cocked boyfriend."
"Don't you talk about him that way!" Betty flared, her eyes flashing angrily. "It's disrespectful."
Tom Zesky chuckled. "Hey, Dale, you picked out one with spirit. I figured she'd be just another tight assed English teacher. This one's gonna give us a real ride."
Betty moistened her lips and managed to speak despite the lump of raw terror lodged in her throat. "What do you boys want from me?" she asked, already sure of the answer.
"Nothin' you ain't gonna enjoy," Dale answered, his fingers caressing her flushed cheek, "I've seen how you keep looking at my crotch every day in English class. Since you seem so interested, I decided to give you a sample of it, and my buddys too."
Betty shrank away from him, her mind gripped now by total panic. She could feel the lust crazed stares of the four hoodlums as their eyes roved over her softly feminine curves and hollows.
Dale stepped closer, and Betty covered her face with her trembling hands, her breath frozen in her aching lungs, and her heart pounding so wildly she thought it might burst. "Don't hurt me, please!" she whimpered helplessly.
Dale grabbed her chin with his fingers and pulled her face close to his own. As he spoke, Betty's nostrils were flooded with the sour smell of his tobacco stained breath. "We ain't gonna hurt you, Teacher, no worse than Ben Sommers does with that big club he's got swingin' between his legs, and I bet you like that kind of hurtin'."
In all her life, Betty had never known such terror. A cold river of perspiration made its way down her spine, and her blood had turned to ice. She glanced from one to another, her eyes glazed with fear and loathing. They were vicious, hateful, and the looks on their young faces told her that they were bent on doing exactly what Dale Paulson threatened. There was nothing on Earth she could do about it.
Bear Jotis stepped forward. Betty looked up into his smirking, thick lipped face as he stared down at her. His big hands moved to touch her richly curving breasts. She backed away, letting out a tiny gasp of horror. Jerry Bova's strong palms gripped her shoulders from behind, holding her fast.
"Goin' somewhere, Cunt?" he growled.
Bear's blunt fingers began to knead her tender breast flesh through the thinness of her sweater. He was rough, demanding, his grasping fingers pinching and hurting her. Betty flinched, her face twisted with pain.
"Stop, pleeeeease stop!" she whined plaintively.
"Shit, Woman," Bear growled, his voice deep and dark with lust, "we ain't even started yet."
"Why don't you park right along here, Ben?" Susie said. She pointed to empty parking spaces along the curb of the deserted street.
"Where is it we're going, anyway?" Ben asked, as he pulled the car to a stop and turned off the motor.
"It's a block or so down the street. I think we should walk. That way nobody'll see your car and come in to investigate. I wouldn't want to have anything happen to spoil your happiness with Miss Wingate. You know that, don't you, Ben?"
Ben Sommers reached over and gave Susie's bare knee a pat. "You're a wonderful girl, Susie, and I'll always remember you."
Susie opened the door of the car and jumped out. "Then let me give you something worth remembering," she said, giggling. "Come on. I'm so horny I can hardly stand to wait until we get there."
Jerry reached down and gripped the hem of Betty Wingate's sweater.
"No," she moaned, "please don't!" Helplessly, she tossed her head from side to side. Bear Jotis was still massaging her firm, tingling breasts, and her nipples were now painfully, urgently erect, despite her overwhelming fear.
"Go on," Dale ordered roughly, rubbing the throbbing lump in his crotch, "strip her, and let's get on with it. My pecker's so hot I'm about to cream in my pants."
Jerry jerked the sweater upward, exposing Betty's tender, white stomach and taut rib cage. In spite of her struggles, he kept pulling, skinning her sweater off over her head. She stood exposed from the waist up, her nicely formed breasts jutting proudly before her.
Tom Zesky let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Aw, shit, look at them jugs. Christ, I could bite on them until she screams for mercy."
Dale laughed coarsely. "You'll have plenty of chance, Buddy. We all will."
Betty swallowed hard, holding back the terrifying flood of helpless nausea that gripped her body. They would kill her, she was sure. The thugs would take from her everything she held dear and respectful and leave her an empty, used up husk. There was no way out now. She was at their cruel mercy.
"Get her shoes and stockings off," Dale ordered. "Let's get on with some fuckin' and suckin'. I been waiting for it too long."
Fighting and crying pitifully, Betty tried to keep them from ripping off what remained of her clothing. It was no use. Jerry held her arms at her sides, and Bear clamped his dirty, crotch smelling hand over her mouth. When she tried to kick, they simply lifted her feet clear of the floor. While Tom pulled off her shoes and threw them into the corner, Dale ripped at the band of her skirt. Soon her clothing was a tattered pile of useless rags. She stood, her arms pinioned behind her, wearing nothing but her tiny bikini briefs.