Blake Garfield: Cheerleader in chains

"Hey, look at the tits on that bitch!" somebody yelled, and Linda Blame blushed, a quick tremor of fear passing through her.

"Want a ride, honey?" someone else screamed a moment after.

It was night, and Linda was walking to the Eastport bus for the long trip back home. The Bulls had just lost the biggest game of the season by thirty-five points, and the worst thing of all was that they had lost it to a small-town school.

Linda, who was the head of the Eastport cheerleading squad, had never felt worse in her life.

"Hey, isn't that the Eastport bitch?" a girl's voice shouted. "That fucking big-titted cheerleader who flipped me off in the second quarter?"

"Sure is," a leering male voice answered. "Couldn't be two sets of tits like that swinging around this town."

Linda was more frightened now, and she walked faster, trying to put more distance between herself and the kids from the school that had just handed Eastport a humiliating defeat. Linda was used to having men and boys whistle and shout at her when she walked by. It had been happening ever since her tits had started to pop out on her chest like a pair of giant-sized balloons. But these farm kids seemed mean and stupid, and she and the other Eastport cheerleaders had been yelling and making fun of them all night long.

"What happened, bitch?" another, female voice shouted out. "Couldn't your big-city boys get it up for the game tonight?"

"Maybe they can't get it up for anything," a guy shouted. "Maybe those big tits are getting wasted up in town."

Linda kept her head pointed straight ahead, but she darted a glance in the direction of the voices. Her heart skipped a beat at what she saw. There was a bright-red pickup overflowing with kids in the center of about a half dozen other cars. At least thirty kids were lounging around the truck and cars. And the Eastport bus was on the other side of the athletic fields, a long dark walk away.

Linda regretted having stopped to change out of her cheerleading outfit, but she had a big date after the game and she had wanted to look good. Now she was alone with this mob of mean kids, and she was dressed up in a way that was sure to attract their attention.

Linda was wearing a skin-tight khaki dress that barely reached her knees. It had a row of metal snap buttons that ran from the collar to the hem, and a belt that pulled it snug around her waist. It was so tight that it showed every curve of her body. And the boots she had on made her legs look their sexiest.

Suddenly one of the cars roared to life, and Linda jerked around to see what was happening. The kids laughed when they saw her jump, and Linda blushed a dark shade of red. When she turned back around, though, she screamed.

"Yahoo!" Two guys were riding on the motorcycle that roared across the parking lot toward her. The one in back had something in his hands that Linda couldn't quite make out. "What was that you said about simple-minded shit-kickers, you big-titted city slut?"

Linda froze under the harsh glare of the motorcycle's headlight, wanting to run but not sure which way to go. An instant later the cycle was roaring by her and it was too late. She had a second to see that the guy on the back was holding a lasso before he tossed it over her head. After that it was too late to run, too late to fight, too late to even scream. The rape pulled painfully tight around her arms and chest, and then it yanked her off her feet.

Linda hit the ground so hard that it almost knocked her out. Her shoulder bag with her cheerleading outfit was trapped against her body by the rope, but her fingers slipped off the strap as she was pounded into the concrete. She had a hazy image of the motorcycle wobbling back and forth, and she hoped it would fall over. The guy in front must have been a good rider though, because he straightened back out and then put on a burst of speed. A spilt second later Linda felt a second jerk, and then she started sliding across the parking lot.

"Whoopee, get along little doggie!" someone yelled.

Linda wanted to scream for help, but she couldn't even draw enough breath to whimper.

Pain ripped through the cheerleader's body as she was dragged across the rough concrete at the end of the lasso. The rope twisted as it pulled her, dragging her first face-down and then face-up across the parking lot. By the time the motorcycle squealed to a stop in the middle of the bunched cars, Linda had been battered almost unconscious.

"Turn her over!" a boy growled, and someone else stepped in to kick Linda over onto her back.

"Shit!" a girl grumbled. "Look at that slut's tits!"

"What else could you look at?" a boy replied. Linda Blame was a pretty girl. She had soft brown hair that tumbled to her shoulders and wide brown eyes that always seemed to twinkle. Her face was a perfect round-cheeked, schoolgirl oval. But right now the crowd of kids who were staring down at her hardly even noticed her face.

Linda had delicate ankles, perfectly turned calves and full, meaty thighs. Her hips were wide, and she had a big, lush ass. But her waist was small, a sharp curve that made her hips and ass seem even fuller. Boys and men were always looking at her great ass and sleek legs. But the country kids who were looking at her now barely mentioned them.

They were all looking at her fits.

Linda's fits were so big that they had almost kept her from becoming a cheerleader, so big that it was hard for her to find clothes to fit.

Linda wasn't a very big girl, but her tits would have been more than enough for a woman twice her size. Even with all but the top button of her dress fastened, the kids could see the top of her cleavage.

"Bet those are five pounders," one kid said. "Five my ass," another boy said. "More like eight."

"They can't be real," a girl said defensively. "I'll bet she's got ten rolls of toilet paper stuffed in there."

"Let's see," another boy said. His name was Jerry Lamar, and he was one of the biggest, meanest boys in town.

Linda groaned, half-conscious when Jerry grabbed the collar of her dress and ripped it apart. The snaps opened easily, and he jerked the dress apart all the way to her belt. Linda hadn't worn a bra because she wanted to look great for her date, and her huge tits spilled out from beneath her dress. They looked even more gigantic bared of clothing, two soft, creamy pillows of flesh. Her nipples were big, too, spiking out over an inch from her soft brown areolas. Every boy in the crowd got an instant hard-on at first sight of her enormous tits, and most of the girls started to get wet between their legs.

"Well, we kicked their asses in the game," Jerry said, then reached down to grab two bulging handfuls of Linda's tits, "I guess we got the right to fuck the shit out of one of their women."

"That's right," a small, slinky blonde girl agreed. Her name was Suzy Rue, and she was Jerry's girlfriend. "This bitch is a spoil of war."

"You sure she just ain't booty?" a boy named Peter Bickley asked, and everybody laughed.

"Well I'm going to get some booty right now!" Jerry growled, and yanked Linda up off the ground by her tits.

Linda screamed. There was a savage, tearing pain in her tits, and when she opened her eyes and saw what was causing it, she screamed even louder.

With the speed of a striking snake, Suzy stuck her fist in Linda's mouth, gagging her and jamming her jaws so far apart that she couldn't even bite down. A moment later the awful pain in her tits subsided a little bit as Jerry threw her face-down across the seat of his motorcycle. Hitting the hard leather of the seat knocked the air from Linda's lungs, and she tried desperately to figure out what had happened.