Jack Victor - The professor_s rape games

"Oh, yeah? Who do you date?" Paul challenged.

"I'm not telling who my dates are. I'm not a blabbermouth like you guys!"

"You're full of shit, Irving," John laughed.

"You know what worries me more than anything?" Paul said. "Those girls are all getting to the age where we could, well, you know…"

"Fuck them!" Norman said.

"Yeah!" Paul continued. "And I don't know about you guys, but I've been begged so often to pop cherries that I couldn't wait to get under their pants, but now the girls don't want to have anything at all to do with us!"

"Maybe they all turned lesbian," Norman said.

"Oh, bullshit! But something's happened to turn them off us. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Paul," John said thoughtfully, chewing on a piece of straw.

Outside the barn, Hill laughed, as he learned of one of the consequences of his perverted course of conduct. The boys were suffering from lack of dates.

Hill knew why. The girls were out cruising, just waiting for him to strike. The boys had been gentlemen at their own cost, and now they were suffering, while the girls waited with fevered longing for the fateful moment, when he would come up behind them in his mask, and take their cherries from them.

In a way, Hill felt sorry for them, but they were clever boys. If Hill knew them, they would come up with a solution, and he leaned against the barn wall, waiting.

"You know what I think?" Paul said. "I think we said no just once too often, and now the girls are getting their meat somewhere else."

"But where?" Norman exclaimed. "They stick around town. We know the upperclassmen aren't dating them. Where are they getting it?"

"Well, where do most of them disappear to after school?" Paul asked. "Maybe they have a secret club house somewhere."

"No, that doesn't make sense, because if you wander around town, you find them in various places."

"And they're never in big groups, either," Norman said. "When was the last time any of us saw them at the pizza parlor?"

"Yeah!" Irving said. "It's like a plague, only worse. The disappearing women."

"Hey, what's that?" Paul said suddenly.

Hill, peering through the gaps in the heavy boards saw the four boys stand up. They looked at each other, and then they looked at one of the lofts in the barn.

"Marcie Blake, you come out of there!" Norman bellowed.

Hill's cock lurched to tumescence as Marcie stood up. She was in the same class as the rest of the girls, a little aloof from them, but fairly well liked, and certainly respected.

"What do you mean asking me what I'm doing here. It's my barn, not yours," the defiant, laughing girl said. Her copper-colored hair gleamed in the dim light of the barn. She was wearing jeans, and her legs were spread slightly apart. Her hands were on her slender hips.

"You're spying!" Paul barked at her. "You know we use the barn to have meetings, and you just came in here to eavesdrop."

Marcie was respected, because she was a scrapper. She had a keen, down-to-earth native intelligence and a capacity for using it effectively, indeed, far beyond her years.

And she could take on any boy in school, and usually win. The only boy who ever beat her, knocked her out by hitting her over the head with a baseball bat, a fact which was constantly brought to his attention as having been rather unsportsmanlike.

The four boys may have been angry, but they weren't about to challenge Marcie too severely.

Marcie didn't feel the same way.

"I'm going to tell all the girls what you said," she challenged.

"You're a bitch, you know that, Marcie?"

"Yeah!" Irving piped up.

"So what? Names aren't going to hurt me, and you can't stop me."

"Oh, yeah?" Norman said, stepping forward with a threatening gesture.

Hill's eyes glowed in the growing twilight, as he saw the fiery tempered Marcie pick up a pitch fork and aim it at the boys.

They scattered fast, including Norman. No one would ever put anything past the irrepressible Marcie.

"Well, why won't you go out with us?" Paul asked.

"Because you're stupid little boys, and you don't appreciate us women!" Marcie said, looking for all the world at that moment like Susan B. Anthony or Carrie Nation – only prettier.

"Now you get out of my barn."

The boys grumbled, but Marcie was holding the pitch fork erect, aimed right at them, and she kept it aimed at them, until they had slipped out of the barn.

Hill heard them trudging away muttering complaints to each other about there being no place to go.

"Let's go to my den and finish this conversation," John suggested. The sound of the footsteps soon faded away, and Hill turned his attention to the lovely strawberry blonde in the hayloft.

She put down the pitchfork, and jumped down from the loft into a big pile of hay, and lay there for a moment.

Hill hadn't brought his costume with him, but he didn't think it mattered. He pulled a large white handkerchief out of his pocket.

Very slowly, he crept toward the partially open door in the back of the barn.

His heart beat like a trip hammer in his chest, as he slowly approached the bright-haired little girl. She was lying in the hay.

As Hill watched, her soft little hands came up to caress her burgeoning tits. Hill knew what she wanted, what all the little girls at Sylvan Hills Ladies' Seminary wanted, and he intended to give it to her, in spades.

He hoped she would put up a fight. He wanted to subdue her. She was easily the most obstreperous little girl in his class, and at the same time she was infuriatingly endearing.

The terms were not contradictory in Hill's mind. Any girl who could be that bold and that independent, and disarm anger was infuriating to any adult.

He crept up behind her. She was murmuring to herself.

"Oh, darling, fuck me, please, fuck me. Stick your great big cock…!"

Hill rushed her, and had the handkerchief over her eyes and tied behind her head before the little girl could raise her hands to undo the knot.

Then he grabbed both her wrists and held them over her head.

The girl reared up, and started to yelp in a high-pitched voice.

Hill was pretty sure she couldn't be heard, but he didn't want to take any chances.

"Shut up!" he ordered.

"No!"

Hill gripped both her slender wrists with one hand, marveling at the strength in her small, slender body, aroused by it, and with his other hand, he covered her mouth harshly.

Looking quickly around the barn he saw, what he was looking for – a leather harness.

He quickly reached for it, dragging the girl's kicking struggling body with him, and secured her arms behind her back.

"Ouch!" he gasped, as her small little teeth found the flesh in the heel of his hand.

She bit down hard. Hill yanked his hand away, and then clapped it back on her mouth before she had a chance to utter the scream that had welled up in her throat.

It wasn't that Marcie was not interested in the rapist. She had heard all about him, and was dying for him to find her.

She hadn't expected to find him in her own barn, and she had bragged that she was going to subdue him and then seduce him into revealing who he was. She hadn't counted on his strength, and his determination to subdue her!

And Hill for all his easy-going ways, was not a man who took no for an answer!

He roughly swung the little girl around, and pulled his hand off her mouth, quickly replacing his hand with his own mouth which covered hers.

He pulled her tightly into his arms, pressing her young muff against his raging loins. He heard Marcie moan against his mouth, as he kissed her long and deeply, prying the tip of his tongue into her hot oral cavity.

He realized that he was taking a risk, but he was willing to take it. She could easily have bitten his tongue as she had bitten his hand. He suspected, however, and correctly, that the feel of his man's tongue in her mouth would melt her last resistance.