BB Part 3

Becky, (aka “BB”) was so stunned and shocked that the day had been utterly lost to her.  She worried about those photos, which might not be circulated, unless she gave Mr. B. a reason to release them.  This from the man who had been taking advantage of her repeatedly for the past few days, how much was his word worth?  She quickly left the boys’ room, dashed through the common room and out into the open where the faculty and students might be awake and around.  All that mattered was her safety but throughout the day, only about three classes in, her mind was endlessly tortured with those photos.   She was violated in the cruelest of fashions, and she couldn’t just blink or let it go.  How she managed to float through the day was a mystery.  The Mexican, while shy and enclosed, still had friends and the odd fan or two depending on the day of the week.  Today was one of those days though, after all, she had a big swimming tournament today… She hadn’t realized that just yet though. 

She was distracted so much that after talking with someone, she couldn’t remember who, and that she’d gone into the girls’ bathroom unaware.  The very same group of boys, who had committed such filthy and unthinkable acts, was following her.  They stalked her during class breaks, moving through the crowds unnoticed.  Of course the guys didn’t intend to do it, it just happened that way.  They had been deep in thought since the Mexican vixen left our dorm, and it was a happy coincidence that they also had classes near hers.   

Becky looked into the mirror of the bathroom, and the bell had rung, how long had she been in there?  She looked at her face, into her watering large black eyes, tears begging to be free.  Even if the boys left her alone and the photos disappeared… my God, what did they do to her?  Standing in front of a full length mirror, her hands went into her blue blazer, flipping it open to reveal the white blouse she wore underneath.  Cautiously, her eyes went to the door – even though the mirror was located on its own little secluded stall, more so a room than anything… she was alone.  She hadn’t been alone all day and although she didn’t realize she didn’t want to be alone; she was now.    

Slipping her injured fingers inside her blazer, she slowly undid the buttons of her blouse.  She hadn’t looked at her body at all and it had hurt all day, only the cold shower had numbed it.   Once her bra was exposed, her breasts urged to be set free.  Her eyes trailed along her wounded orbs before she reached back and unlatched her bra, letting it spring up and out of the way, still under her half-buttoned blouse and azure blazer.  Her nipples were a menagerie of colors, ranging from red to black and blue.  Her breasts also had a pattern where the clips had been placed on them. 

She gently rubbed her abused breasts with her fingers, so chilled and motherly.  She felt ugly on the inside and out.  She smiled in those pictures… Oh God.  Moving the tie that nestled in her breast canyons, she gave a final look to the devastation they wrought upon her precious body.  Turning around, she lifted her long wool skirt and held the hem in her teeth so she could use her hands to expose her backside for inspection.  The gray material contrasted against her white panties and tan skin.  Hiking the whiteness up her ass cheeks, she saw that marks were etched into her flesh from the pool stick… the hand prints also remained. 

Again, a soft hand caressed her plump fleshy cheek – even her own touch stung, making her quiver.  She’d never really looked at herself in the mirror like this, it made her feel… lewd.  She couldn’t help herself. 

Her hand brushed caressingly along one of the more prominent wounds along her maimed rear end. 

Just then the door of the bathroom opened and several people came in. Hurriedly, she placed her clothing on but remained silent.  She hadn’t finished dressing but dropped her skirt and zipped her blazer, her blouse remained open and tits unrestrained.  Quietly, she listened as the door to her stall was locked, her pulse raced… her body responded instantly, having been terrified just the night prior and all morning long.  They kicked in stall after stall, each door slamming.

“BB, we know you’re in here and don’t think about screaming.  Do you want everyone to know how plump ALL your lips are?”  Mr. B. threatened.  She hated that Russian prick, but each time she thought about him, she thought about the horrible pain he’d caused her and in turn she grew fearful, mind numbingly so.  She remained silent, but panicked as she tried to hold the door closed but it was no use.  The door burst open and five guys pounced on her like wolverines. 

“Look at that, whore already got her blouse open for us.”  Dave said while Alex chose to stay back, snapping photos of the incident for posterity. 

“Remember, she has class so don’t… well you know.” Mr. B. laughed, enjoying the scene.  Becky broke down in tears as she wrestled them, begging, pleading, until she reached a horrified wail of “NO not again!  You promised!”  Yada yada yada.. 

Each kid enjoyed fondling her anew, even if she had most of her clothing on, but their greedy groping hands found themselves inside her panties in little to no time. 

“Do you want someone to see this, see how you are letting us do this to you?” Mr. B. said in a mocking voice, his eyes looking casually over to the camera that Alex held. 

“I’m not letting you do anything!” She bitterly spoke through sobs as her defaced body was once again defaced a thousand times over.  After all, her wounds were on the mend; meaning they hurt a lot more when menacingly groped.  Becky was huddled in the corner and the boys had exceptional leverage both physically and emotionally.

Her wool skirt sauntered by her knees as she was forced to look into the mirror, her white anklet socks clinging to her lean, lithe legs.  Under Mr.B.’s directions, the boys spread Becky wide in front of the camera, revealing her pussy in all its wounded glory to the audience. 

Becky had not seen her fruit yet, nor did she want to, but forced to look she saw how thick and pouty her once virgin pussy lips were.  They were so swollen, that no pink from the inside of her pussy could be seen. Not even with her legs spread and her fat ass resting upon the bathroom floor.  The room was an extension of the bathroom, but part of the bathroom all the same.  The bitter cold of the floor bit at her as much as the endless grouping and groping hands.  Mr. B. just watched and smiled, trying to add an artistic touch to the photos, saying how much money it would bring him if he ever chose to sell them.  He reminded her of that all too frequently, that even while she was at her worst and being manhandled — he could sell the photos if he wanted to. Encouraged by much more extreme pictures, Alex came closer.  He knelt between the little tan fleshed teenager’s legs and used his fingers to slowly unclasp the swollen lips to reveal her pink insides.  The guys took it from there by snagging some of each pouty lip and individually separating, stretching, and at more violent times, pulling and twisting. Becky had no recourse, trying to keep her silence as she was again abused.  This time she didn’t have the dignity of blindness, instead she saw each and every vile action.  Mr. B. took the camera from Alex and paged through the photos in front of her, so she could see just how gorgeous and sweet she looked while being molested.   The photos continued until they got to the clothed versions, in a swimsuit, collecting a trophy for being the best swimmer.  It felt so long ago and distant, she’d almost forgotten she used to be a pure soul. 

Wearing a bathing suit used to make her self-conscious and shy, almost reluctant to swim – but she didn’t let it affect her performances – even though she felt almost naked before entering the water… look where she is now.

Chris snickered as he looped a finger between her pussy lips.  They spread for him gracefully, allowing him to enter and exit their crevice, making his hand wet.  He didn’t enter her; instead he coveted the liquid spilling out of her like a tiny fountain.  The boys teased her – Becky the role model, and her cunnie – were being abused and videotaped for future entertainment.  Her lewd, dirty, sinful crotch was responding to the terror by drizzling out her creamy milk.  The finger that slipped along, and through, her pouty lips caused a stirring sensation in her feeble and trembling body.  Pain echoed in her mind while noisy sloshes could be heard; they continued to mistreat her innocent and toned body. 

Alex handed the camera off to Mr. B., who graciously accepted the responsibility and began taking close up shots of her face; enjoying the horror and discomfort etched into the soft features.  She looked mature yet still innocent with such a heated, bothered face.  Twisting and contorting, she felt her shoes individually slip off – her dainty feet still protectively in their white pure socks.  That didn’t stop Mr. B. from enhancing the throbbing pain that her feet suffered each time she took a step, he enjoyed doing so.  After all, the soles of her feet had been brutally injured with a pool stick slap just hours prior. 

Dave had somehow fully removed Becky’s bra and made a display of taunting her with it before he shoved it into his backpack, commenting how he enjoyed the challenge.  Finally, as quickly as they were there, the bell rang again… forty minutes had passed and a new class session was about to begin.  The ladies room remained locked and several people tried to get in, prompting the gang to retreat.  However; Mr. B. waited outside the bathroom waiting for Becky to leave.  He knew she would either remain in the bathroom, leaving herself open to his single advance, or she would leave.  If she left, he would spring a little surprise of his own on her.  In all the commotion Becky had not noticed her shoes were gone and in their place she found only high heels… super high heels.  They looked uncomfortable enough to begin with, but after trying one shoe on she realized there were bumps and pointy things on the insoles; each step would be a new little hell but she had no choice.  She put both wicked shoes on and stood up, trying to compose herself.  She had been sobbing loudly; unaware that Mr. B. was outside and had heard her.  Walking with this new pair of shoes was challenging, and she stumbled.  Even in her own shoes she could no longer walk without pain, these were torture. 

Becky’s tailored white shirt clung to her unfettered bronze breasts, putting them on display.  Her nipples were obvious, even if they hadn’t been swollen from the abuse, they were no longer like grapes or cherries — they were plums — with a fitting color of purple to black. .

Satisfied with her self-composure, Becky stepped from the bathroom and saw Mr. B. in front of her, but she didn’t panic.  In fact, she had gotten dressed and re-grouped rather gracefully for being in a rush.   How well could she hide her feelings of demoralization?  So worthless and pathetic…  Mr. B. had told her time and time again that  this was her fault, her choice… she shouldn’t have allowed them to do this to her.  She had only herself to blame, not them, and definitely not him. 

A lot of emotions crossed her mind before her uncomfortable gaze fell to the floor, several people rushed past in an attempt to get to class on time. She saw them glance her way, just once, but her mind was swirling.  Did they know?   They couldn’t know, but that look in their eyes… they had to know… they knew; oh God.  So many embarrassing emotions collapsed upon her mind that she had forgotten the little show-down with Mr. B. — but Mr. B. obviously noticed and enjoyed her…squirrelish-ness.  She was perpetually in fear and in such; she was her own and greatest tormentor.  Her imagination was running on overdrive.  She was aware there were humiliations that had not been done to her, and she was thankful to have escaped them thus far. 

Mr. B. reminded Becky that they had class together, and that they were also rather late.  Best to show up in a pair, he reasoned with her.  Not like she had a choice.  It seemed like a truce but she knew much better now – there was no truce between them and they both knew it.  But like everything else today, she needed to take it step by step carefully and cautiously.  If her mind thought about the horrifying actions that had literally just happened… Well, she wouldn’t have enough strength to continue living this lie.  She had to remain all smiles and nice and kind, when in reality her soul had seen the true wickedness of horny teenage boys. 

They arrived in class – she was not going to be punished.   The Russian Mr. B., with a high GPA, was usually punished for being late. 
Although exceptionally smart and book savvy, he was labeled a troublemaker.  His attitude and general demeanor was blissful and illusive; he had lots of friends and an influential father.  Punishment wasn’t really a punishment for him in the long run.

Mr. B was about to protest his sentencing, pointing out that Becky hadn’t gotten any treatment of an equal sort, but Becky immediately protested on her own — stating that they had been studying together.  Mr. B. never knew why she did such but perhaps it was fear of reprisal that navigated her actions.  The class went by swimmingly — if by “swimmingly” one means it was dreadful.   No matter how many times she looked over at Mr. B., all she could see was him down by her crotch, rubbing her poor innocent and abused clit so viciously and repeatedly that the swollen knob felt like it had become raw.  The billiard chalk was now gone, mind you, but the image of it was all so very real to her.  She kept her head low, when ordinarily she’d be perked up and engaged in whatever the class had to offer. 

What was worse was the fact that their little excursion occurred the day she had a huge meet and an even bigger test.  If she failed the test today, she might not be able to remain on the swimming team next month.  But at the moment, all those thoughts seemed so insignificant.  Where she once thought of her future as good and nice and kind — filled with wonder and enjoyment — she now faced the future with dread and loathing.  Oh God, when were they going to leave her alone?  Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a few students snickering with Mr. B., and while snickering from his group was not uncommon, she was paranoid and immediately thought people knew about her.  Pulling her blazer tighter across her engorged and battered breasts, she felt so naked and exposed as the snickering students looked over their shoulders at her. 


As students repositioned themselves at tables to take the test, a small table housed her, another person right next to her, and Mr. B straight dead ahead of her so that they were parted only by a table. They traded looks, casual knowing glances at each other from across that slab of wood. Tests were passed and Becky quickly tried to silence the uncomfortable feelings boiling in her body and gave her eyes over to the test in front of her. She busily went to it until she heard a pencil dropping on the ground. Mr.  B disappeared under the table to retrieve his lost property, only to capitalize upon his position and snatch a foot from Becky. Hard, her knee withdrew and noisily banged upon the under part of the table. She recoiled in agony. Everybody looked at them and Becky froze with instant fear. Mr. B went for another attempt at snatching the foot. Becky gave him eyes, whispering ever so honey softly so that not even the student next to her could hear. 

Her plump Mexican lips whisper “Stop it” but Mr. B got what he had been looking for. Becky was in no position to bring any more attention to herself, because each set of eyes that looked at her she felt… humiliated, shamed, she just wanted to disappear. She was quiet, but not against being around people but she was now. Perhaps she always would be. Oh god, they don’t know her secret and she didn’t want anyone looking at her, for fear her unforgivable actions could be read upon her soft featured, bronzed face.

Mr . B pulled off her high heel and even her sock. She felt a nail running along the tip of her toe, it was ticklish at first, but soon as that nail drove into just under her pinky toe, the far more delicate and sensitive of the five, she realized with burning accuracy that what was being driven into her flesh was no nail but a pencil – a sharpened pencil with a fine penetrating tip that made easy work of her tender flesh as it drove deeper into the tender flesh, pulling it inward until it pierced inside. She winced, her eyes looking at Mr. B before he told her that she needed to get a perfect grade on this test or she would be punished. Begrudgingly, she returned to her work, eyes half closed and then forcefully shut each time she felt that pencil renew itself with a poke, a prod and a penetrating pierce. It wasn’t too painful but Jesus, anyone could see if they wanted to which made her extra careful with her voiced reprisal. 

The idea that it wasn’t painful disappeared as the pencil stuck in between the toes, wedging itself into the flesh of her foot. She squirmed, trying her best to retain her mind and will power, begging she wouldn’t just break down balling and crying. She wanted it over. She bit her lip which had been slit the night before drawing blood. It stung the moment she chomped on it but it was alleviating the severe and overwhelmingly potent sting of a sharp pencil tip driving repetitiously into her dainty toes and feet. 

The test came and went but she was able to successfully do the material at hand, after all, she wasn’t just an athlete, she was incredibly smart too and she was being an expert as… blocking and blinking away humiliation and the pain associated with such. In fact, she could have gone off to a real college but she chose to remain here, at Kelly, to practice her swimming and win championships for the school. Besides, she was a little too scared to go out into the ‘real’ world, she liked the strict, controlled environment of Kelly College – it forced her to obey rules and she was all about following them. 

As the class period came to an end, her test was snatched by Mr. B who scratched her name off with the eraser from the very pencil that had brought her so much woe and replaced her name with his own. Before she could move herself, to say something, do anything to the astonishing and frightening display that was Mr. B’s control over her, he slid his own, empty test along with his pencil. She looked at it blankly, he wanted her to put her name on it, she knew that but she could never do something like that but in that moment she knew she had to follow orders, even if they were unspoken. She signed her name upon the empty test, which would doom her to carry a scarlet letter, a horrible mark of neglect upon her transcripts. Her near perfect grades would be ruined, ruined just like her body had been ruined. She dashingly brushed her wavy hair out from one of her large welding eyes and signed her name before the tests disappeared. Mr. B wiggled his fingers, making a motion that she followed regretfully – she returned the pencil so he could drive it into her swimming feet some more. This time he jabbed and jammed it against her flesh, not so much digging into her flesh so much as just stabbing remorselessly. Apparently her feet could be tortured a lot more then she was lead to believe by what Mr. B had done to her during class. 

Afterward, she followed awkwardly side by side with Mr. B as they exited the classroom, they were the first ones out, he was in a rush and so too was she, but she was in a rush to get away from Mr. B before anything else happened. She couldn’t imagine any more torture but as soon as her mind came to that, the boys’ bathroom was opened and Mr. B shoved her into one of the little mirror rooms. It was rarely used by the guys but this college was all about equal treatment of students no matter the gender so whatever the girls bathroom had, so too did the guys, within reason of course. 

Mr. B tied her against the mirror, wrapping her hands and arms around the mirror and tying them with hemp rope. It felt tight as her arms were pulled back, her breasts pressing outward against her blouse so much that her buttons were straining to remain on. Worse yet she was made to stand, feeling those wooden little half sphere things in her shoes truly start to press into her. With a firm and dominant hand, he slapped one of the breasts, causing it to jiggle with motion before he left.

With her rear end pushing against the mirror, she looked backward to inspect what was going on, to be able to see her wounded, abused butt cheeks flatten upon the reflective surface. She whimpered as Mr.B told her to remain quiet as he went to class. 

During the next class period she had heard the bathroom being used periodically by guys entering and leaving. Even the room that she was in was lock-less. Anyone could find her, anyone could, and it didn’t help matters that her skirt was pulled up and intricately tied in with the knot, meaning her tender silk ass was rubbing against the mirror that she was forced to share space with. 

This isn’t to say she didn’t try to escape though, but after several attempts she rubbed her wrists rather raw because of the hemp rope and its tightness. She never gave up. Or so she thought but moments into her doomed and humiliating state, she gave up, weeping to herself, shutting up each time a new person entered into the boys room. What had she done? Why was she allowing this torture to continue? If only she came clean…. 

Never, how could she? She was a role model, she couldn’t let down her menthes, and what if the teachers found out, she could never look anyone in the eyes again. 

Alone, she tried to think of the life she once had, trying to convince herself it would all be okay, it would go back to normal if…. And she always got hung up on that thought process. She was trapped, she was worthless, hopeless and there was nothing she could do or say to weasel out of the situation. It upset her greatly. She didn’t even have her teary cheeked face composed when they arrived back to the room she was tied in. She always tried to act as if she was perfectly okay, her mind still the same as always but as they barged into the room she crumpled and cried out in panic, begging for it to stop. She needed this nightmare to end. 

Alex untied her, smiling before whispering into her ear before snatching a thick piece of the earlobe and bit it between his sharp teeth. “I got a surprise for you.” He said diabolically. Becky, along with the five kids flanking her, walked out of the school after it had let out. They made their way through the woods, a place she was familiar with. She enjoyed swimming in the stream, enough to allow for leisure swimming by one person but not two who were side by side. It was rather narrow but deep and flush with wildlife. It was exceptionally beautiful but she had no idea where the boys were taking her, and she had no idea where they were going nor did she want to know. 

The very thing she felt naturally attuned to, the forest and solidarity betrayed her however, without shoes upon her little feet, she had to make the incredible track vulnerable and most susceptible to the underbrush of the woods. It was already rather chilly, the fall waning ever so swiftly, leaving branches and the soon to be dead of the forest upon the ground prepared and waiting for the little Mexican star to step upon them. She lost her balance a few times, a mixture of exhaustion and humiliation. It took an incredible amount of willpower and thus energy to conduct her daily affairs, bottling all her emotions inside her lush body, earning her the wrath of the underbrush, it was exceedingly hard to keep balance when guys were behind her poking and probing her voluptuous derrière, ushering her faster and other such go the distance words. 

Once was a gorgeous virgin Mexican, but now she looked broken and perhaps humbled as she struggled to get to the creak, her clothing reflecting her disgruntled state of mind. She had also even had her hands and arms tightly bundled upon her back by familiar rope, making balance an issue also. Her wavy midnight hair frizzed because of the shower she had taken unexpectedly and hadn’t the chance to dry off properly or even ‘get ready’ for school after successfully surviving vicious, atrocious behavior at some eager, rebellious hands the night prior.

She didn’t look too great now though, at least willful, her natural beauty remained unblemished, her slender legs still toned from years of swimming and her stomach pouched with just a little bit of chub, enough to grow this already heavy breasted female to at least the next cup or two. Soon the creak was upon them, and they continued to poke her, ushering her further back into the stream of bitter cold water, given the temperature had waned with the season’s onslaught. 

“What, no! Come on, please, please, I… I can’t do that. You already made me fail a test, my… my future is… I don’t know if they will allow me to swim. I got a tourney tonight that I need to compete in… it’s… it’s important, I need to win tonight to get into the Olympics and… “ Her eyes wistfully turned to Mr. B, pleading, which was a sight to see for she was bound by rope, arms behind her. She wasn’t on her knees but she might as well have been. “ Please… haven’t you done enough, I swear, I won’t tell anybody but I need to rest for the swim.” 

Alex leaned over to Mr. B, whispering. “You made her fail a test?” 

Mr. B nodded.

Alex smugly laughed, her hand clapping upon Mr.B’s shoulder playfully. “So are the Mexicans the Russian jews?”

“You can go back to your life whenever you want. Say the word, we shall release you but your photos will indeed make it to every single being…” 

Becky cut him off by barking back. “I heard that already.” But still to show her change of attitude, she slowly, toe pointed down into the creek, sampled the water. It felt wonderful, washing off the caked on dirt of the travel along with washing her wounds, it felt cleansing but only for her toes, soon enough her entire body chilled, causing her to withdraw. 

Mr. B piped up. “You may take off your clothes now if you don’t want them wet for the walk back.” 

The idea was appealing, though she felt terrible more pictures were being taken of her slipping out of her clothing the moment her ropes were loosened. Each piece of clothing slipped off from her form almost erotically, though she didn’t intend to seem so provocative- taking off her blouse was still an ordeal, ropes being loosened but not undone, causing her chest to jolt out bouncingly but soon stiffened and hardened by the chilly air surrounding their unholy actions. Her lips pouted with grace as she struggled to debase herself in front of the camera. With just her panties remaining, a stick was slapped upward, striking her firmly upon her crotch and whipping the end to strike flimsily upward her precious rear end. Crack, Mr. B’s stick wailed with dominance, Becky’s hands went from the panties waistbands to her crotch, covering it up before rubbing her crotch tenderly and with dedication, trying to smooth out the stinging sensation. 

“Alex, did you get a picture of that?” Mr. B smirked,  Alex searched and laughed, looking at Becky.  

“It seems to me that you’ve been drooling in your panties.” Mr. B spoke heavily, ordering Becky to remove her hands. She knew exactly what he had been referring to. Her panties were drenched with her sizzling love juices. Even with the humiliation of being found out, she removed her hands, her eyes shut issuing more tears as her body trembled in the sheer cold. 

“And no one really touched her down there, right, we have just been whipping her for… what… the past hour?” Mr. B questioned and all the guys agreed, Becky knew where this was going and instantly waged her own protest, her hands ignoring her soaking wet spot on her panties. 

“You’ve been … touching it… and whipping it… at me. That is all…” She nervously spoke before hurriedly stripping her panties off, exposing her swelling pussy, lips firm against her lovely snatch. Nudity was better than being made aware of the very physical evidence of her body responding favorably to this behavior and pain. She threw her clothing on the tree before turning herself around to face the creak, the guys in the background laughing over her shoulder, whistling, calling her a whip loving whore, things to that nature. Mr B was, however, silent as she did what was expected of her. Stepping into the water she submerged herself in cold water. The guys watched as she did so. 

Soon after they ordered her back above the water where rope tying was done to her arms and hands. When such was done,  a longer rope was produced and thrown to sling around a sturdy branch stretching over the rather quick moving stream of water, its foundations a tree. Using the branch to support and leverage Becky, they pushed her over the side, unexpectedly because all Becky was doing was asking what they were doing in the most annoying manner possible. She was suspended above the whipping water until finally Dave loosened his grip, allowing the poor little literally helpless girl to dip into the water. To keep herself afloat she needed to frantically flail her legs to keep her above water submersion but even an expert swimmer like her was unaccustomed to the odd position, causing her to look like a cat out of water almost, her struggles for breath were offset only by the mesmerizing beauty of water splashing about her body, the water licking her tenderized, mistreated, inflamed and red skin. One might think that the water was a nice relaxation from the torture she had undergone but it was just another addition to the humiliation she had already suffered. Another picture was snapped as her exposed set tight skinned breast wobbled and bounced up and down, side by side. Then Dave began to dunk her into the water before drawing her out, then back into the water, then out. Becky’s knees scraped against the rock that blockaded the creak’s little streaming journey down to another body of water in the distance. 

The guys eventually grew immune to the girls’ screams, and while there were screams, though some might be gargled and muffled by intake of coughing choking water, they emanated throughout the woods all the same. No one could hear her this time around so no one really minded it, and it gave the poor little Mexican the perfect chance to relieve herself from the hours of stress that her mind, body and soul had been put through. As the scene became boring, Mr. B took her clothing and showed it to each of his friends, who giggled, encouraging him to further up the stakes. With that, he tossed the clothing into the rushing stream, smirking as he called out. “Better swim fast. Dave give her some slack.” With that Becky realized that her clothing, her unkempt, wrinkled uniform that had seen so many horrors, was now making its way down stream. Quickly she swam for it, after all, without them she had suffered walking home the bitter indignity of having to sneak, once again, naked, into the boys dorm… the girls dorm… she was going home tonight… to her comfortable bed… to sleep in and forget this nightmare and leave it all behind. 

Though she had it right the first time, she was indeed going to be going to the boys dorm room. 

Swimming, she snatched her clothing with her teeth frantically but it was impossible… She continued to try until she was prevented from moving further from the rope. God, she didn’t care, she needed her clothing, even if she couldn’t pick them up she had to try, she couldn’t… remain naked all that walk home. Desperately, her strength fully pulled the rope from the branch and slipped through the narrow creak to retrieve her quickly paced floating clothing but alas it was too late. The rope was snatched and she was dragged back to the shore, doomed to walk home, naked and without shoes… probably to be walloped and punished by random sticks 

Big and small.

Upon returning to the common grounds, they sneak her, at night, into Mr. B’s dorm room where she is given new clothing though she still remains slightly chilled by her semi-damp body. She got dressed in front of them, in front of the camera but after so much torture and terror she said it didn’t mind – it was second nature, almost but the moral emotional sting still remained rather potently in the back of her mind. She could never get used to this treatment. The guys soon left her, or rather remained in the room to get ready, they said it like it was going to be a torture thing against her but she… just didn’t hear it in their foreboding voice. The only thing on her mind was she might be late for the meet. She needed to retain something of her precious previous virgin innocent pure life. Mr. B escorted her, like a warden or prisoner guard to the head coach’s office. She looked back at Mr. B, the Russian, questioningly, having thought he was going to take her to the pool area. True, they were very close to the pool facilities, however, they were not in there. 

Mr. B produced a tight, white, almost transparent two piece swimsuit. She looked at it, the size was utterly tiny and he was able to hold both pieces with just a finger. She shook her head before huffing, showing a little more of her spirit before snatching them. 

“I want you to convince your head coach that you want to wear these for the tournament.” Was his instructions, Becky was getting so far into anger and rage that she would do this, she would, but soon she would escape, she would figure out a way but having her body iced over, abused, groped, and damaged, perhaps even scarred, she was in no sane condition to plan her escape so she would just…. Go along with this… Tomorrow she would solve all this… she would, she promised herself. 

Huffing and puffing, she exited the coaches office, slightly angry. 

Becky looked downward at her feet as she reported to Mr. B. “he asked if I was sick.” But after a few moments she got back onto the saddle and slipped into the office once again to make a plea, using her body as an alluring token, much to Mr. B’s suggestion.  In fact, she put on the swimming attire before she returned to the office. It was white, clinging desperately to her stomach, causing a little lumping roll to appear, her breasts stretching the material with ease, almost ripping the thinness of it, and her ass, well, her cheeks so large that the fabric collected and slipped in between her ass cheeks and even pussy lips. If one had great eyes and looked directly at the nervous, teenage girl they’d be treated with the sight that her pussy lips were exposed… and punished thoroughly. 

She was told that she must compete tonight, she must also win, Mr. B reasoning to her that he just wanted to see all those fans to see just how naughty the Mexican spitfire could be, and also be a successful young woman at the same time. Secretly, he just wanted the girls to admire a slut, see how skillful a person could be even after she had given her precious soul away to someone else’s’ devious and wicked intent. 

Hastily, she placed a towel over her body before she competed in the tournament. So worn out, she almost lost but she needed to win, or else everyone in the school would know what she had done and had been doing and what she… wouldn’t be doing tomorrow. Tomorrow she will find a way and escape. Somehow, someway. hopefully. 

It was terrifying, so many eyes glued to her, when she removed her towel to start the swim, she heard a collective gasp of surprise and shock. It was a wonder how she wasn’t disqualified but perhaps all the males approved of the skimpy attire. Her nipples swollen, much more rock-hard the moment everyone and literally their mothers saw her shamelessly display her body. Her folds of flesh from her stomach and breasts popping out of the sides of the outfit, but she put it out of her mind. She needed to win. 

After winning the meet, she relaxed in the pool, exhaustive and spent. She had been tormented and tortured most of the day,  holding back tears of hatred, rage, and humiliation, but as she swam she let it all out. She was actually so fast she beat her old times. New record set. Mr. B would be pleased that all the people watching the scandalously dressed, moral-less slut was still able to excel in her sport. She left herself underwater, soaking in the feeling of it against her body as people began to leave left and right. Even her teammates left her be, no one spoke to her, no one at all. Even after she’d stolen the race, even after she was a champion and winner, no one dare talk to the sick perverted whore who wore next to nothing, where her breasts, purple and blue as they were, bleed out in coloration, not in actual blood, from her white thin bikini top swimsuit. 

If only she could just be left alone.

That didn’t happen as she looked up, her wavy damp hair clinging to her shoulders, her thick hair webbing outstretched behind her very submerged head as she tried to wash her body as much as her sins that she allowed to be done to her. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed all five of the boys in swim trunks. She bit her lower lip, eyes piercing at them. She wouldn’t let them see her cry – not this time. No, she would be free and they couldn’t do anything else to her, not after what she’d made herself do, what she had put herself through. The whole school might not possess those blackmail photos – but they DID possess the memory of her lush, luxurious body tightly concealed and strapped with a tight see-through-ish bathing suit. 

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