Toying With Tiffany
Ch. 5 - 8

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TOYING WITH TIFFANY (MMMM/f teen, nc, humil.) Ch.5 - 8 by Dr. Wu

Warning: This story is of an adult sexual nature. If you are under 21, you are forbidden from reading it. Go somewhere else.

Important mumbo jumbo: This story is copyright 1999 by Dr. Wu. It may be freely distributed on any newsgroup or any part of the Internet where access is completely free and unhindered. It may not be archived or be made part of any site that charges for access in any form.

The usual blah-blah: This story is complete and utter fiction. No one bears any relation to anyone real. In real life, anyone who tried to do any of the stuff described in this story would be guilty of both serious felonies and major sins, and would deserve punishment. But this is a fantasy world, so enjoy.

Comments: Dr. Wu has now successfully posted and re-posted the entire 13 chapters. Your comments are always welcome, but please do not ask me to e-mail anything.

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CHAPTER 5: THE ONE WITH THE RODGERS AND HAMMERSTEIN

Tiffany tore up the stairs to her bedroom, frantically locking the door behind her. She stripped off the hateful slut outfit and started ripping at the duct tape.

"Ooh! Ooh! Owwww!" she moaned as the tape pulled away from her skin, pulling tiny golden hairs out with it. The tape around her tummy was bad, but the tape around her young thighs was even worse.

Finally she was able to tear off her panties. She desperately pushed a finger up her pussy, trying to fish out the ants.

After a few minutes writhing around on her back on her bed, her legs spread wide and one finger, then two fingers, up her cunt, the 16-year- old realized she wasn't able to get to all of the nasty little insects. She pulled the large black dildo from her backpack and positioned it at the pink, pouting lips of her pussy. Just as she sank it in about two inches, there was a knock at her door.

"Tiffany? Are you OK?" Jesus, thought Tiffany, it was her younger sister Stephanie.

"Go away!" yelled Tiffany.

"What's wrong? Can I come in?" asked Stephanie.

"No, go away!"

"Why not?"

Tiffany's mind raced. "Uh, no, I'm having female problems," Tiffany replied, using their code word for that time of the month.

"OK," said Stephanie and walked away. Tiffany rammed the dildo home.

God, it felt good, she thought, like scratching an itch you've been needing to scratch all day. She pulled it out and sank it into her sweet virgin (well, technically virgin), pussy over and over and over again.

She could feel her juices start to flow, lubricating the walls of her vagina. She was barely aware that her clit had popped out as she slid the rubber monster deep inside, over and over. The ants were all dead, but the wealthy cheerleader kept fucking herself, closer and closer to an orgasm.

"Ohhhhhhh, yesssssss," she moaned softly, not wanting to alert Stephanie or her mom. Her large perfect breasts heaved on her chest, her nipples poked up, hard, she splayed her knees even wider, and rammed the dildo home. She reached down, and as soon as she touched her swollen pink clit she exploded in a delicious teenaged orgasm.

After she caught her breath, she became aware that she still had ants up her ass. She pulled out the dildo, now slick with lubrication, and gently pushed it into her own rectum. Although she had masturbated before, she'd never stuck anything up her own ass. It hurt a little, but also felt kind of nice. She felt very full.

As she began to work up some speed with the dildo in her ass, crushing and killing the ants her principal had placed there, she realized she wanted to come again. So again she started to fondle her own clit, rolling it in her fingers. Heat seemed to be building inside her body, and soon she came again, even harder than before.

Oh God, she thought, suddenly ashamed of herself. Did I really just do that, masturbate with a black dildo up my bottom? Oh, but it felt so good.

She allowed herself the luxury of mentally drifting for a few minutes, enjoying the heavy feel of her recently satisfied body. But then she jerked, realizing she had to hide the dildo and face her family. And even worse, her principal was expecting her to meet him for a trip to the mall. She was dreading the encounter. If she had known what she was in store for, she would have dreaded it even more.

Promptly at 7:30 that night, Tiffany pulled into the Daniels High School parking lot in her new Miata, a present from daddy for her 16th birthday. The lot was empty except for a few cars at the far end, where she saw some men standing. She drove over and got out of the car.

Roger White, the Daniels principal, was there, as was John Brown, the math teacher who had originally caught her cheating, drugged her and videotaped her, starting her horrible descent into being a sexual slave to these depraved men. And there was Tom Green, the English teacher who had humiliated her earlier that day. The fourth man, though, surprised her: Joe Black, Old Joe, the school custodian. Old Joe was only in his '50s, but to the smug young teens of Daniels High, he might as well have been in his '80s. He was a large black man, big but not fat, just hulking and heavily muscled. He rarely said a word to the students except "Excuse me" when he needed to get by with his broom or mop.

"Right on time, Little Miss Cheerleader Cunt," sneered Mr. White.

Again with the horrible names, thought Tiffany. This all would be bad enough but it's so much worse when they call me these names.

"Looking good, Tiffany," said Mr. Green, eyeing her up and down. She wore sneakers, jeans and a white short-sleeved blouse.

Old Joe licked his lips. The janitor leered at her, and she shuddered. It was bad enough to be the toy of these teachers, but to have a dirty old janitor doing it too, that was just too yucky.

"Why is he here?" she asked White, referring to Old Joe.

"Why, Old Joe here is our best buddy, aren't you Joe?" White answered, and put his arm around Joe's shoulder. Joe smiled at Tiffany.

"About 10 years ago, when you were just in first grade, Tiffany, I was fucking a student in my office one night. Chrissy, I believe her name was. Anyway, I had my cock up her ass and in walks Old Joe. There to empty my wastebaskets and vacuum. He and I pretty much decided that either he could report me and get me fired, or he could wait until I was done and then fuck Chrissy up the ass, too. So when I got done, he took his turn. We kind of bonded that night, Old Joe and I, and we've been working as a team ever since. These other guys have joined the club as the years have gone by."

Tiffany barely heard most of the principal's story. At the words "cock up her ass," she had frozen in fear. The luscious young student had heard whispers among her girlfriends that some guys - and even, occasionally, some girls - liked anal sex, but she had never heard it referred to so brutally. And if these men had done it to another student, would they do it to her?

Was she going to eventually get fucked up her virgin little ass by all four men? Was that what was in store for her? "And now, off to the mall we go!" the principal chortled, breaking Tiffany's reverie.

The men opened the doors of the Lincoln Navigator and motioned for Tiffany to get into the back seat. "But first," said Old Joe, let's get those jeans off, missy. Panties too."

"Oh, no, please don't make me do that," Tiffany whined.

"You just don't get it, sweetheart," said Mr. White. "Have you forgotten that little video we have of you? What will Mommy and Daddy think? And all your friends? I can pretty well guess what all the perverts on the Internet will think when they see that sweet innocent little face with a cock stuffed in its mouth-hole, complete with your name, address, and phone number. You'll be the most popular girl in Texas. It'll be like you're a dog in heat and they just opened the doors of the kennel!"

Tiffany shuddered at the gross image, and sagged in defeat. It was only she and the men in the parking lot, so she slipped off her sneakers, then her jeans, then her panties. She felt horribly exposed and vulnerable outdoors, so she quickly climbed into the backseat of the large SUV.

"Might as well do the blouse and bra, too, sweet cheeks," said Old Joe.

"Sweet cheeks?" echoed White. "Why Joe, we don't call our friend Tiffany a name like sweet cheeks. We call her fuckmeat, or ass-licker, or juicy-cunt, or shit-for-brains." The men all laughed raucously. Tiffany blushed furiously.

"Please, may I ask a favor?"

"Sure, smegma-breath," said Green.

"Would you just not call me horrible names? All this is bad enough, but could you just not call me names?"

"Awwwww!" the men jeered in unison. "Poor little Tiffany got her feelings hurt!"

White climbed into the driver's seat, with Green beside him. Old Joe got in on Tiffany's right, Mr. Brown on her left. The nude girl huddled between them, aware that all of their eyes were drinking in her lovely 16-year-old body. The night air was chilly, and her nipples had sprung to attention, further betraying her, making it appear she was sexually aroused.

"Tell you what, Tiffany," said White. "We'll play a little game on the way to the mall. If you win the game, we won't call you names any more. You have my word. If you lose the game, we'll keep right on calling you whatever we like. Seeing as how we have total power over you anyway, what do you have to lose?"

What, indeed, she thought. She might as well try.

"What's the game?" she asked meekly.

"Remember last year when you were in the school production of Sound of Music? Such a nice musical," White said. "Even though you didn't play Liesel, I'm sure you heard her sing in rehearsals over and over. We'd like for you to serenade us on the way to the mall by singing that song "I Am Sixteen, Going on Seventeen."

"That's all I have to do?" Tiffany asked nervously.

"That's it. Just get through the whole song one time, perfectly, without stopping or making any mistakes, and we'll stop calling you names."

This will be easy, Tiffany thought. I'm sure I can remember all the words, and Liesel's part is really only a few lines, cause it's a duet.

"But we've got to make it challenging," said Joe. "Put your hand behind your back. Without even thinking, Tiffany leaned forward in the back seat and placed her hands behind her. In a flash, Joe pulled out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed her wrists. Her arms were now pinned back at the shoulders, her hands trapped.

"Stop! Oh God please, take them off!" Tiffany shouted in panic.

"Shut up!" yelled White. "Listen, girlie, and listen good. If we get stopped by the cops, or if anything happens to us, in any way shape or form, whether it's your fault or not, all of guys have had it. Our careers are over. And the only satisfaction we'll have is making sure your life is hell. So if anything happens, my friend mails those videos out and posts them on the Net. So it's in your fuckin' best interest to make sure that we don't get caught! Got it, bitch?"

Tiffany nodded. She was feeling horribly numb again. The logic was inescapable. She was trapped as the toy of these men and could do nothing about it.

"Let's get comfortable," said Joe. He grabbed Tiffany's naked right leg and pulled it into his lap. He then crossed his legs over her leg, trapping it. On her left, Brown did the same thing.

The result, even before White had started the Navigator, was that Tiffany was nearly immobilized in the backseat. Her hands and arms were cuffed behind her with the weight of her body leaning back against them, and her legs were spread wide and held pinned by each muscular man on her sides. She squirmed and wiggled, but could do nothing. She also noticed, for the first time, that the windows of the vehicle were darkly smoked, and no one could possibly see inside.

"Here we go," White said, starting the SUV and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Any time you want to start singing, be our guest," said Brown with a giggle.

Tiffany took a deep breath and began: "I am 16, going on 17..."

Old Joe's right hand shot out and grabbed ahold of one perky nipple and started massaging it.

"Oh God, stop!" shouted Tiffany. Joe kept up his manipulation of the nipple, which was growing harder.

"Come on, we want a song!" shouted White from the front seat.

Tiffany started over. "I am 16, going on 17..."

Mr. Brown's right hand began to rub up and down Tiffany's bare thigh. She kept singing.

"I know that I'm naive...."

Brown reached around with his left hand and started to tickle the underside of her breast, while inching his right up until it reached her pussy.

"Oh, please, I can't do this!" Tiffany wailed.

"Fine, then, little lesbo bitch," said White. "She doesn't want to sing for us, guys, so it's back to name-calling."

The teenaged cheerleader knew this was just a horrible game to all of them, but maybe if she got through the song she could at least have that small victory. She steeled herself against the roaming, prodding hands of her two teachers as they explored her writhing young body, and started again.

"I am 16, going on 17 I know that I'm naive Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet And willingly-OH! OH!"

She couldn't help herself. Joe's hand at drifted down to her pussy and he had plunged a fat finger deep inside her. She hadn't realized she was still slick with juice from her recent session with the dildo, and Joe's finger quickly slid all the way in. The poor girl's hormones started to flow. She could feel herself starting to get horny as Joe pulled his finger out and plunged it back in, finger-fucking the confused girl.

It's my only chance at self-respect with these fuckers, she thought to herself, and began again. This time she got as far as the line "Totally unprepared am I, to face a world of men," when Brown leaned over and kissed her neck, right behind the ear. No man had ever kissed her there, and it sent a shiver of delight through her young body. She didn't cry out, but she stopped singing for an instant.

"Nope, doesn't count!" White called out from the front seat. "We said you had to sing it perfectly."

Tiffany started over. Joe's finger continued to frig in and out of her pussy, feeling better and better. Brown continued to kiss her neck, which felt incredibly good, and both men were pawing her breasts and nipples.

She had barely sung a few words when Joe placed his thumb against her clit and began to rub.

"Ohhhhh, please, stop, stop, don't do this to me!" she cried out. She felt so alone, so exposed, so humiliated. She was trying to just complete one simple task, sing a song she knew well, and she couldn't even do that. Her mind was confused, but her body wasn't. Every inch of her was responding to the caresses and touches of the men who had pinned her down in the backseat.

"I am 16, going on 17," she started again. Joe and John Brown let her sing, keeping their touches light, till she got to the lines "I need someone older and wiser, telling me what to do," and then Brown bent his head down and placed his mouth over her erect nipple and started to tongue it, while Joe pushed a second finger up inside her.

"Uhhhhhhh," Tiffany moaned. Her head rolled back against the seat, her eyes closed. She was lost in a delirium of overwhelming sexual desire.

"You want us to keep doing this?" whispered Brown.

"Oh, God, I don't know," moaned Tiffany. "No. Don't. Stop."

"Don't stop?" asked Black with a nasty smile. His fingers were churning inside the tormented girl, his thumb expertly manipulating her clit, which was now pink and throbbing. Tiffany's hips started rotating, almost without her knowing it, as she thrust her pelvis forward into Black's hand, while Brown continued kissing her hard little nipples.

"Since Tiffany doesn't seem up to singing," said White from the driver's seat, "you guys mind if I offer a little tune? It's Rolf's part from the same song, and kind of appropriate."

The principal launched into the song in a strong, forceful baritone:

"You are sixteen going on seventeen Baby, it's time to think Better beware and canny and careful Baby, you're on the brink You are sixteen going on seventeen Fellows will fall in line Eager young lads and roues and cads Will offer you food and wine Totally unprepared are you to face a world of men Timid and shy and scared are you Of things beyond your ken You need someone older and wiser Telling you what to do, I am seventeen going on eighteen I'll take care of you!"

Tiffany vaguely heard the deep male voice, telling her she needed someone telling her what to do. She had stopped even trying to sing her part. Her body had taken over, and she was inching closer and closer to orgasm. She moaned, thrust her tender young breasts out, humped her pussy frantically against Black's fingers.

"Oh yes! Oh yes!" she cried out. She teetered on the verge of a powerful teenaged orgasm.

"Whoops, here we are fellows!" called out White as he turned into the shopping mall. "Time to look sharp."

Black and Brown immediately pulled themselves off of the writhing, humping schoolgirl, which took more discipline than they'd ever thought possible.

Tiffany didn't know what had happened. One moment she had been on the brink of cumming, then everything had stopped.

"Please?" she asked plaintively.

"Please what, baby?" asked Joe, teasing.

"Please don't stop what you were doing," she said softly. If her hands hadn't been cuffed behind her, Tiffany thought, she would have finished herself off right there in front of them. God, everything had felt so good. Her heart was pounding, she was shaking and sweaty, she wanted to cum so damn bad!

"I don't think so," White ordered.

"Pleeeeeeese," begged Tiffany.

"Let's hear what you want," White said briskly.

"I want to, you know," Tiffany said. She knew they knew. She was beyond shame, she decided. She had to cum.

"I want to have an orgasm," she begged.

"Maybe later," White said coldly.

Tiffany lifted her head and opened her eyes, and looked right into the lens of the video camcorder. Green, in the passenger seat of the Navigator, had been taping her the whole time.

"Smile," her teacher said, "you're on Candid Camera."

Tiffany wanted to cry.

"Joe, get those balls into her like we planned," White said. Black reached into a bag on the floor and pulled out a small box, extracting two small metal objects slightly smaller than ping-pong balls.

"Here ya go, babe, just so you don't get that empty feeling inside," Joe said, and pushed one ben-wa ball, then the other after it, up inside Tiffany's swollen, sopping wet pussy. They were cold, but strangely, Tiffany didn't mind. She was slowly getting used to having something inside her young pussy.

"Those will have a real interesting effect on you when you're walking around in the mall," White said, and all the men laughed. Tiffany didn't understand but knew, with dread, that she would eventually.

"Let's help her get dressed, guys," White added. Tiffany was still horny and wanted to cum so badly, but she had no choice, with her legs still trapped and her hands cuffed. She wasn't going to be allowed to cum just yet, and she still had to endure whatever they had planned for her in the mall.

She looked out the darkened SUV window and could see the bright lit walls of the mall in the distance.

"And just to remind you, you never did manage to sing the song all the way through, you little slut-monkey," Green mocked her from the front seat as he stowed the camcorder in his shoulder bag.

"Yeah, dog-fucker," said Brown.

"This is gonna be a shopping trip you'll never forget, babe," Black whispered in her ear.

The teenager shuddered, partly from the lust that still boiled in her hard young body, partly from pure fear.

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CHAPTER 6: THE ONE ABOUT THE HIGH PRICE OF HIGH HEELS

The words still echoed in Tiffany's head: "You need someone older and wiser, telling you what to do."

Sweet God, thought the befuddled, horny teenager. Her tormentors had even taken something innocent and precious to her - "The Sound of Music" - which she'd performed in last year, and turned it into something she would now think of only with shame and humiliation. She was being told what to do by men older than her, but not the way the song meant.

"May I ask a question, please?" she asked meekly as Joe Black released her from the handcuffs, freeing her trapped arms.

"Sure thing, slut," said Mr. Brown.

"What are those things you put, uh, you know..." She couldn't bear to bring herself to say where she meant. "You know, inside me," she finished.

"You mean stuffed up your little teenaged pussy?" responded Brown. "Those are ben-wa balls, baby. God, you really are such a child! They're hollow metal balls, partially filled with mercury. Women use them to masturbate. They fit snugly up inside that pussy of yours, and when you walk, they shift their center of gravity over and over, stimulating the inside of your pussy. The sensations, I'm told, are quite delicious."

Tiffany shuddered at the thought of these awful foreign objects inside her most private place.

"The thing is, as I understand, a woman will usually sit in a rocking chair when she has the ben-was in place and rock and play with her clit. The result is a spectacular orgasm for the woman. For you, though, it's likely to be mostly just an exercise in frustration, cause you're going to be walking around the mall. You won't be able to finger yourself to get yourself off, although if you want to, we probably won't stop you, so long as it's some place nice and public, like the food court. Mainly, as we see it, you'll just be in a heightened state of horniness for our little shopping trip."

Brown smiled diabolically. Tiffany, stunned at how much trouble they were going to, just looked down and bit her lip.

The men helped her back into her clothes, all except for her bra, which they told her she didn't need.

"Those 16-year-old tits are so perfectly perky you should never wear a bra, babe," said Joe Black. "They'll get more bounce that way when you walk. Guys like that!" Finally Tiffany was dressed - jeans, blouse, sneakers, no bra - and they all got out of the SUV. She realized she had no idea where they were, that during the long ride of torment she had been paying attention to what was being done to her in the backseat rather than where they were going.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"This is Southlands Mall, in Bernard," said Principal White. "About 30 miles away from town. We figured there's a lot less chance of being spotted and recognized here than if we went to the mall back in town. Last thing any of us needs is to be spotted hanging around outside school hours with our school's prettiest cheerleader, particularly when she's doing what you're going to be doing here at Southlands."

"Please, sirs, I'm begging you, can we just go home?" Tiffany implored. She was trembling with anxiety, and still a little lust from being brought so close to orgasm by the men and then stopped right before her climax.

"Of course not, bitch. We've gone to a lot of trouble to set this up," said White. "Now listen carefully, because once we get inside, I don't want to have to be repeating these directions for you over and over. You can make this simple, or you can make this complicated. The simple way is you do exactly what we say for the next hour, no questions, no tears, no trying to alert mall security, and after an hour, we go home. The hard way is you give us any shit, or fail to follow our instructions precisely. If that's the case, then my friend starts sending out those videos. We'll probably be able to add a few more minutes onto the part with the cock-sucking and the masturbating and the appearance of drug abuse of little Tiffany, naked, singing "I am Sixteen, Going on Seventeen," if Mr. Green here got a nice tight close-up that crops out the men to your sides.

"You understand so far?"

"Yes sir," Tiffany said quietly.

"So you're going to get yourself some new clothes tonight, stuff you can wear to school from now on. Here's how it will work. We'll see something in a store window and tell you what we want you to get. You go into the store, and one or more of us will go in with you, but we will pretend like we're not together. You don't acknowledge us, we don't acknowledge you. But we'll be keeping an eye on you to make sure you keep our deal. You try on the item or items and make sure they fit. Whether you like them or not is irrelevant. If we're doing our job, you'll probably hate 'em, but tough shit. You take them to the cashier, who we'll have scoped out in advance, and who will be male. Tell him you want to buy this, but you don't have any money, and could you pay for it instead with a blowjob." White paused to watch her reaction.

The color drained from Tiffany's beautiful young face. "What?" she shrieked, forgetting where she was. "I can't! I won't! I'll scream for help!" They were asking her to offer oral sex to strange men in a shopping mall.

"You scream for help, missy," said the girl's principal, "and out go the tapes, complete with name, address and phone number. By the way, isn't your daddy running for City Council? We better make sure we add his opponent, and the news media, to the list of recipients. Make a helluva of a campaign issue! Charles Daniel's Teenage Daughter in Sex and Drug Video Scandal! What a headline!"

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" shouted Tiffany, holding her hands over her ears as if she could block out the torture. "I'll do it, I'll do it!"

"That a girl," said White. "So as I was saying, you offer the clerk or the cashier or whoever the blowjob. Maybe there's a backroom you can use, maybe a dressing room, maybe you have to go to the mall men's room and find a stall. Picture that. Tiffany Daniels, the cock-teasing princess of Daniels High, down on her bare knees on a men's room floor, swallowing a stranger's jism. It will certainly be in your best interest, once you get started, to make it nice and quick. Suck his cock, swallow his cum, and meet back up with us.

"Simple as that," concluded the principal.

Tiffany could barely speak. She started to hyperventilate in panic and outrage. She wanted to cry, or run, or kill these men. None of those was an option. Her only option was to do as they told her.

"Give me your purse," ordered Mr. White. He took the girl's purse and gave it to Mr. Green, who stuffed it into his shoulder bag with the video camera. "Now you have no money, no charge cards, no ID. You're not Tiffany Daniels, spoiled little rich girl any more. You're the Blowjob Queen of Southlands Mall.

"Let's go," said Mr. White jauntily, and Tiffany and the four men walked to the mall. Almost immediately, the sexy cheerleader felt the ben-wa balls start to move in her pussy. It was a strange sensation, really rather pleasant. She was still wet from her masturbation session with the dildo and then the finger-fucking in the back of the Lincoln Navigator, and the slick balls slipped and tumbled inside of her.

Their first stop in the mall was an upscale shoe store. White, who was clearly running the show tonight, told her to stop, and the cheerleader and her tormentors all looked in the window.

"I kinda like that pair there," said Old Joe, pointing to a pair of sexy black open-toed pumps with 5-inch stiletto heels. The price tag in front of them read $79.95.

"Nice choice, Joe," said the principal. "But do you think a blowjob even from a stone-fuckin' fox like Miss Daniels here is worth $80?" There was no one else standing nearby, and the men were talking about her like she was some sort of street prostitute! Tiffany burned with shame.

"Oh, easily," said Joe. "I'm sure she lacks a certain expertise, since I haven't sampled her yet, but just look at those lips. The chick looks so much like that Kournikova girl that plays tennis, that's worth a lot right there."

"Well I've had a blow job from her," chimed in Brown, the math teacher who started it all, "and while she's not a seasoned pro yet, when my dick started to spurt down her throat, I would have gladly paid $500 on the spot. Course, I was getting it for free!" He laughed, and the other men laughed with him. Tiffany wanted to die.

"OK," said White, turning to Tiffany. "Go in there and get those shoes. You know what to do. We'll be watching you. And do exactly as you've been told, or the whole world gets a special video treat starting tomorrow."

The cheerleader swallowed hard. Her stomach felt like lead. She walked into the shoe store, still feeling the metal balls churning and churning inside her pussy.

"Hi, excuse me," she said to the salesman. He was a middle-aged man, about her father's age, but obviously just a clerk in a mall shoe store at night: a little dumpy, dressed in polyester, no wedding ring. His pin-on name tag said Jim.

"May I help you, miss?" His eyes glittered as he took in the ravishing teen girl before him.

"I'd like to try on that, uh, pair of shoes in the window," Tiffany said nervously, pointing.

After Tiffany gave her size, the clerk went to get a pair from the window, and she sat down. White and Green had entered the shoe store and were standing at a display, pretending to be engrossed.

Jim returned with the shoes and tried them on her feet. Tiffany stood up - Whoa! They were by far the tallest heels she had ever had on. She swayed precariously and grabbed the clerk's shoulder for balance. He grinned and quickly slipped his arm around her waist, as if to steady her, but actually just to brush up against that firm teenie flesh.

"Take a few steps and see how you like them," the clerk said. He was so engrossed in Tiffany that he hadn't even noticed the two male "customers."

Tiffany took a few wobbling steps. Normally a healthy five foot seven, she was an Amazon in the shoes, six feet tall. She could feel the muscles in her legs moving differently than they ever had before, stretching and pulling, and she also felt the ben-wa balls inside of her moving in a more stimulating way. The heels changed the way she walked, she realized, causing her to thrust her pelvis out, arch her back to maintain her balance. She was starting to walk more like a provocative slut and less like the normal teenaged girl she still desperately wanted to remain.

As she wobbled around the store, getting used to the high heels, her large, lovely breasts bounced more than usual in her blouse. Freed of their bra, the nipples rubbed against the cotton fabric and the stimulation began to make them erect. Soon her teenaged nipples were poking straight out through the shirt, with no bra to hold them back. All the while, the ben-wa balls stuffed up inside her rolled and rolled, a constant reminder of her horniness.

She walked back to Jim and spoke to him in a low voice. "Can I talk to you privately, please?" she whispered.

Jeez, thought Jim, what's up with this chick? The middle-aged clerk saw her nipples poking out, obviously braless, and now she was coming on all husky-voiced. He took her by the elbow and steered her toward the back of the store, with Tiffany hobbling and wobbling along, trying to keep up.

"I, uh, mister, uh," she stammered. She could barely make herself speak the unspeakable words. But her two tormentors were still in the store, stealing covert glances at her, and she knew what the penalty would be if she didn't follow through: not just humiliation in front of her friends and family, but Internet postings of her name and address that could get her stalked and raped.

The beleaguered cheerleader forced herself to do what she must. "I don't have money for these shoes, but I really want them," she blurted out. "If you'll let me have them, I'll, uh, you know..." She stopped again.

"No, I don't know," said Jim, but his cock was beginning to get an idea. It stirred in his slacks. What was this little slut up to?

"I'll, uh, make you...cum."

Yes! thought Jim. Thank you Jesus!

"I think we can work something out," said Jim. "Excuse me, gentleman," he shouted at the two men hovering in the front of the store. "I have to close up for a few minutes. Out ya go!"

Mr. White and Mr. Green exchanged smiles and willingly left. Jim slid the glass front of the store closed and locked it.

"I'm all yours, little lady," he leered. "Now more specifically, what did you have in mind?"

"Can we go in the back room?" Tiffany said quietly, close to tears.

Jim steered the trembling schoolgirl into a backroom, and unbuckled his belt. His pants fell to his ankles, and Tiffany could see the outline of his erection throbbing in his jockeys.

Tiffany took a deep breath. She could either drag this out and take all night, or get it over with and get home, safe in her own bed. There was only one way out. She dropped to her knees in front of the clerk, pulled his shorts down, and engulfed his cock in her warm teenaged mouth.

"Oh yeah, baby, suck that rod," the salesman said. "You can have all the shoes you want anytime you want, baby."

It was the first time young Tiffany had given a blowjob on her own. Her first time she had been drugged and her mouth little more than a receptacle. The second time, her principal had fucked her mouth and forced her. Now it was up to her to figure out what to do.

It didn't take long for the girl to learn. The salesman held the sides of her head and started sliding his cock in and out of her mouth.

"Use your tongue, baby, and lick the underside," he ordered. She did, running her pink tongue along the bottom of his shaft and then around its thick purple head.

"Oh yeah, baby, that's it."

Tiffany felt the cock moving in and out, sometimes pushing so far into her mouth that she almost gagged. She didn't even think to use her hands, and it didn't occur to Jim to tell her, because it wasn't necessary. Jim had had three blowjobs in his entire life, and all three of those from hookers, and to have a sexy young girl come into his store, drop to her knees and start sucking him off was beyond his wildest sexual fantasy. He felt the sperm building in his balls.

On her end, Tiffany felt the head of Jim's cock start to swell. He was pushing in harder and faster now, and his grip on her head tightened. Her knees hurt from the concrete storeroom floor, and her humiliation knew no bounds. She wished the earth would swallow her whole.

"Here it comes, slut!" shouted Jim, and suddenly the cock in her mouth erupted, shooting stream after stream of thick white jism onto her tongue and straight down her throat. She started to spit it out, but remembered somehow in the back of her mind her orders were to swallow, so she started gulping.

It had been more than a week since Jim had masturbated, and he had a huge reserve of salty semen for the kneeling cheerleader. She swallowed over and over, eight, nine, ten times, and finally Jim's cock was quiet.

She arose from her kneeling position awkwardly, stood again on the high heels.

Jim pulled his pants back up.

"Could I interest you in another pair of shoes?" he asked with big grin.

"God no!" Tiffany blurted. Now that she had followed her orders, she wanted to get out of the shoe store so badly she could scream. She walked quickly toward the front of the store and Jim, reluctantly, let her out. As he watched her walk away, he wondered if this was where those letters to the editors of Penthouse came from. And here all along he thought they were made up!

* * *

CHAPTER 7: THE ONE WHERE OUR GIRL GETS MALLED

As soon as Tiffany left the shoe store, White fell in right beside her.

"I see you got the shoes," he noted with approval. "Nice job. Now let me smell your breath."

Tiffany was too dazed and befuddled with all the demands and orders that she didn't even pause to wonder about the strange request. She opened her mouth and exhaled.

"Ah yes, the smell of cum in a young girl's mouth," White said quietly. "Nothing like it. Better than napalm in the morning."

Tiffany had no idea what her principal was talking about. She just wanted to get this horrible trip to the mall over with.

The other men joined them. "We found some nice clothes over at the Gap," said Joe Black as the four walked along.

"Lead on," said White, and soon Tiffany found herself walking into the Gap, this time with the Daniels school janitor, a man she normally would not even acknowledge, but who now controlled her as surely as if she were a marionette and he the puppeteer.

"There's a pile of clothes I gathered up in the far right rear corner," Black whispered to her. "There's six items. Take the black skirt off the top, try it on in the dressing room, and wear it out. Get the other clothes and find the clerk named Ralph. Make him your offer." Black turned and walked back out of the store; he knew that even in the '90s you just didn't see a black man and a pretty white girl chumming around together in a suburban mall at night.

Tiffany found the pile right where Joe had assembled them, took them into a dressing room and stripped it off her jeans. She pulled out the black skirt and was puzzled - surely it was way too small! Her teenaged hips were not wide, but they were certainly voluptuous and full. No way she would fit into this!

She pulled the skirt up and found it was made of spandex, and stretched to fit. She tugged it over her thighs, up to her waist. Jeez, this sucker was tight! But finally it was in place.

The black Spandex skirt was a micro-mini. When Tiffany looked in the dressing room mirror, she couldn't believe her eyes. It clung to her like a large black rubber band. That's practically what it was, anyway. It came down to just two inches below her crotch, and the bottom moons of the cheeks of her ass were half an inch away from being plainly visible.

Still, she knew what she had to do. She pulled the black high-heeled pumps back on, gathered up her old jeans and the other new clothes and went off to find Ralph.

"Just get through this, just get through this," she kept telling herself.

Every person in the Gap stopped what they were doing and stared at the stunning teenager as she strolled through the store. Inside her white blouse, her unfettered breasts bounced freely, showing off the hint of darkness around each nipple. The micro-mini clung to her ass and crotch as it if was spray-painted on. Her long bare legs were tanned and magnificent. And the high heels made her walk with a hooker's strut, rolling her hips and pelvis (what no observer could see were the ben-wa balls turning and churning inside Tiffany's pussy, ratcheting up her awareness of her own sexuality with every step). She looked like she was auditioning for a Penthouse video.

"Yo, babe, check it out. Nice walk!" called a black teenager. Tiffany ignored him. When she approached the check-out counter, she spied the clerk named Ralph. This one, at least, was someone closer to her own age, maybe about 18, and not bad-looking. He wore khakis and a polo shirt, and was decent enough looking that under other circumstances, Tiffany might have even talked to him.

"Hi," she said. "I need to talk to you privately for a minute."

"Sure thing, ma'am" said the boy. Tiffany's stomach fluttered a bit. He had a sexy voice, and kind eyes, and she was horny, and she knew what she was going to do to this boy in just a few minutes, and that thought, somehow, made her hornier. What had been sick and disgusting back with the shoe store clerk was now seeming not so terrible. If only she could get off, too! But that would take more time, and more explaining, and she couldn't imagine what she would tell the boy about the metal balls inside her.

"I want to get that stack of clothes I left up on the counter," she told Ralph once they were in a corner, "but I, uh, my purse was stolen." She didn't know why she lied, she just wanted to think of some way to save face. "So maybe I could do something real nice for you in exchange for the clothes."

Ralph looked the sweet high school student up and down. He knew he would get fired if he was caught, and he wasn't sure what she had in mind, but he had to find out.

"There's an employee men's room in the back," he said. "Follow me." He marched through a curtain and Tiffany followed him into the men's room, where he turned and locked the door from the inside.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ralph asked.

"No, but I have to," Tiffany answered honestly.

"You don't have to do anything," Ralph said. "If you want to trade clothes for sex, I won't say no, but wouldn't it be nicer if we went somewhere and made love properly? Then you could come back and I'd give you some clothes. I mean, this is kinda tacky," he concluded, gesturing at the squalidness of the men's room.

"I know," said Tiffany. Her mind was reeling. This boy was actually very nice. He said things like "make love" where all the other men just talked about sucking their cocks. He was good-looking, and he smelled nice. In another world, she would have dated him, maybe, gone to a movie, maybe gone parking down by the lake and made out. But that was not Tiffany's world right now. She knew Old Joe and the others would be waiting outside, waiting to smell her breath and degrade and debase her further. She steeled herself, reached out a hand and unzipped Ralph's khakis.

"I'd love to chat," she said, trying to sound nice, "but right now I just have to give you a blowjob."

Ralph had tried to do the right thing, but he was, after all, a teenage boy, with a lovely girl squatting down and unzipping his fly and pulling his dick out with her tender fingers. He sprang to life, hard as a steel bar, and knew he wasn't going to be offering this little slut any more alternatives.

Tiffany leaned forward and placed her lips around the head of Ralph's prick. "Ohmigod!" the boy moaned softly. "You are so sexy!"

Pleased at the compliment, Tiffany reached a hand into his open fly and began to fondle his balls. Although the ben-wa balls were stationary, her pussy was suddenly leaking a trickle of juice that ran down her thigh. Her clit was throbbing, and she thought about reaching down with her other hand, pulling her panties aside and masturbating while she sucked the teenaged boy. But she forced herself to focus. Even though this was much nicer than her previous blowjobs, the goal was to get the evening over with.

The blonde cheerleader pulled her mouth off the engorged dick, then stuck her tongue out and swirled it over and over the head. Ralph moaned and leaned back against the bathroom wall. Tiffany leaned forward, her gorgeous red lips open wide, and ran her mouth all the way down onto his cock as far as she could manage. His kinky pubic hairs tickled her nose. She pulled back, then started bobbing her head up and down, faster and and faster. Her hand seemed to be on automatic pilot, rolling his testicles around in his scrotum. She could feel them start to inch upward and his scrotum tighten as his orgasm approached.

"Oh yes, ohhhhh yes," the boy moaned. Tiffany's pussy spasmed slightly. She was so damned turned on. She had never been this horny in her young life. She reached down with her free hand without even thinking, pulled aside her panties and started rubbing her exposed pink clit with two fingers.

Suddenly, Ralph's cock exploded into her mouth, pulsing out wave after wave of hot boy semen. She started swallowing dutifully, and kept working her clit, faster and faster, approaching her own climax.

Sated, Ralph pulled his cock from the girl's hot mouth with a "pop" as the suction of her lips was broken. The blowjob was over, but she still hadn't cum! Without the cock in her mouth, she was suddenly very aware of who she was and what she was doing: squatting on a men's room floor masturbating furiously in front of a total stranger! My God, she thought, what was happening to her. She pulled her hand away from her sopping wet crotch, and the spell was completely broken. She had once again come so close to an orgasm, only to fall short.

Ralph was zipping up his pants. There was nothing for Tiffany to do but stand up and smile, weakly.

"Thank you, thank you thank you," blabbed the lucky Gap clerk. Boy, would he have some story to tell his friends! He wished he had a Polaroid camera to take a picture of this vision of loveliness, dressed like a total whore, standing in front of him with a tiny dribble of his semen at the the corner of her mouth.

"You're welcome," was all Tiffany could manage as her well-bred manners automatically took over.

"Can I have your phone number?" Ralph asked. "I could call you..."

Tiffany thought it was wonderful that he was still acting as if they had met in the food court after a basketball game, but she was in enough trouble and wasn't about to give her number to a boy who thought she gave out blowjobs all the time. She declined, scooped up the clothes, stuffed them in a large Gap bag that had been left in the restroom and beat it out of there without even saying goodbye.

Ralph stood forlornly and watched her go.

Click-click-click went Tiffany's heels as she walked quickly along the tile floor of the mall. Swish swish went the round globes of her ass under the tight black mini, back and forth, mesmerizing every male in the mall. She saw Old Joe coming toward her. He smiled when he saw the Gap bag in her hand.

"Well done, little missy. By the way, in case you didn't have time to have a proper conversation with young Ralph, he's on the basketball team of the local high school. I believe they're our opponent for homecoming." He smiled a toothy grin.

Every time Tiffany thought her ordeal had reached the bottom, it got worse. Now she would have to go out on the court Friday night in her cheerleader uniform and Ralph would be telling all his teammates about how that blonde cheerleader had sucked him off a few nights ago in the mall. Her face burned with shame.

Old Joe told her to walk on ahead until she met Tom Green, who would direct her to her next store. That store turned out to be The Rave, and this time Green walked right in with her. Tiffany had never been in this kind of store, which sold hippie clothes, punk garb, Goth stuff, some surfer garb. Heavy metal played loudly on the stereo, and black light posters of skulls, bare-breasted witches and cartoon dogs fucking hung on the walls. A glass case along one wall contained bongs, buttons with sayings like "Cure Virginity," temporary Harley tattoos. It wasn't really a rough place, it was just for suburban wannabes, kids who didn't have the guts to get a real tattoo but would get one that would come off in a week.

It was still enough to scare Tiffany, who was more used to shopping at stores like the Gap with Daddy's American Express.

"In here, no one will think it's weird if we're together," Green was saying as he put his arm around her shoulder. "You're my girlfriend, if anyone even cares to ask. We'll pick out some clothes, and then I'll let you arrange payment." He chuckled.

Green led her to a stack of halter tops. He picked one that said "Porn Star" across the front in glitter letters. Another said "Stop Looking at My Tits!" One had no words, but was white and so sheer it was almost transparent. She might as well wrap Saran Wrap around her tits, Tiffany thought. Green put them all in a pile for "purchase," then found what he was looking for and said "A-ha!"

The halter was black, like her shoes and her skirt, and across the front, in large silver script, it read: "JUST DO ME". Underneath was a Nike swoosh. It probably broke all kinds of counterfeiting laws, but The Rave staff didn't care much about such niceties.

"This is the one I want you to wear the rest of the night," Green told the frightened girl.

"Do they have it in a bigger size?" she asked. "I think that one will be too small-"

"Nonsense," said Green. "Here, let's try it on."

"You mean in the dressing room?"

"No, I mean right here, my little video star." Green turned to the man behind the counter. "Hey, dude, you mind if my girlfriend here tries on a halter top without using a dressing room?" he said in a voice loud enough for everyone in the store to hear.

The guy behind the counter was large and hefty, a beefy guy who looked like a biker even though he wasn't. He had a handlebar moustache and long black hair tied back in a ponytail, and the sleeves of his black T-shirt were cut off, showing off his muscles. His right bicep bore the tattoo "Pretty Fucking Dangerous" under a skull smoking a cigarette.

"Knock yourself out, man," he said with a big smile.

"Please don't make do this," Tiffany begged. She tried to make herself look sweet and vulnerable and pitiful to Mr. Green.

"I'll make you a deal," he said. "If you try on the halter right here where you're standing, I'll let you off the hook with blowing Mr. Dangerous over there. I'm a little worried about him. He looks like the kind of guy who might really hurt you, might want to slap you around a little if he has you alone in back. He might even have a knife and want to cut you a little." Green was laying it on thick, terrifying the already frightened girl, whose trembling had started again.

Tiffany was about to pee on the floor she was so scared. Mr. Green was right, the biker behind the counter did look very mean indeed. If Green left her alone in the store and she had to offer him a blowjob, it might be a much uglier experience than dorky Jim in the shoe store or sweet Ralph at the Gap.

"You mean I have to be p-p-partially naked right here in the store?" she stammered.

"Yup, and you'd better get moving, little video star, or I'll walk over there to Mr. Dangerous and tell him what he's about to get in five minutes. Once he focuses on getting his dick in your mouth, there won't be anything either one of us can do." Green was playing the teen like a violin.

Tiffany felt sick, but knew she had no choice. She glanced around nervously and started to move behind a display.

Green stopped her. "Right there where you're standing," he ordered. "If you get to skip a blowjob, the other guys are gonna be pissed and want to know why, and I need to be able to tell them it was a fair trade-off."

Actually, Tiffany didn't realize that her three other tormentors were standing right outside the entrance, blocking the door, which served two purposes. First, it prevented mall security from wandering in unannounced. Second, Brown had the video camera out and was getting the whole thing on tape to add to the Tiffany Blackmail Video. The men had already scoped out The Rave and figured out this variation in their plan.

"Better get busy with those buttons," Green told her. "And smile, baby. Don't think of it as showing off those pretty tits of yours. Think of it as avoiding a nasty encounter with Mr. Dangerous back there."

Tiffany swallowed hard. The room seemed to be wavering again, but this time there were no drugs in her system. She knew what she had to do, and began unbuttoning her white blouse. When all the buttons were undone, she reached out to the halter top Green was holding. The teacher stepped back out of her reach.

"No, first the shirt comes all the way off. Lay it on the floor, and then ask me politely for the top."

Tiffany cursed him under her breath, then slid the blouse over her shoulder and down her arms. It fell to the floor, and the 16-year-old cheerleader was standing naked from the waist up in the middle of the store.

She realized the store was utterly quiet. Two teenage girls who had been looking through the clothes and stopped and were staring at her. The ugly man behind the counter was ogling her magnificent tits too, and from somewhere in the back, two teenaged boys had appeared and started pointing and nudging each other. The poor girl wanted to die.

Tiffany instinctively crossed her arms over her chest.

"Hands at your sides, Tiffany. Get 'em there this second, or I'll ask some of these guys to come over and hold them there."

With that, the tattooed man bounded out from behind the counter and was at Tiffany's side even before she could obey. "You need some help here, boss?" he asked. "Little lady causing you problems?"

"I don't know," Green answered. "Are you causing me problems, Tiffany? Do we need this gentleman to assist us?" The burly man towered over Tiffany and stared straight at her cleavage.

"No, sir," Tiffany said, and slowly lowered her arms to her sides. Her 36-inch breasts, capped with the beautiful pink nipples, were on display for all the world to see.

"Oh, man!" said one of the teen boys in a voice louder than he intended. "Check out that rack! Jesus Christ!"

"Please, sir, may I have the top?" Tiffany said, her voice steely. It was taking all her will power not to run screaming from the store.

"Let's ask our salesperson," Green said, taunting the girl. "Do you think she'll look good in this?" He held up the black "JUST DO ME" halter.

"I don't know, man," said the man, playing along with the game. He wasn't sure what kind of weird shit these people were into, but he was willing to see where it went. "It's kind of small, and those tits of hers are awfully big."

"How big are they, Tiffany?" Green asked.

"Please, please, please, sir," the schoolgirl begged. "Can I just have the top?"

"Not until we find out how big your tits are," Green replied. "What's your bra size, honey? We need to know to make sure we get this fitting right."

"36-C, goddamn it!" Tiffany spat.

"Yup, they look about that size," said Mr. Green. "Here, you can have the top, but since this gentleman works here, I think maybe he ought to help you into it. And that's the only condition you can have the top."

Tiffany started to shiver. It was cold in the store, and her nipples were getting hard. The metalhead music blared, and the teen boys were now giggling like Beavis and Butthead. The two girls had crept closer as well, and the customers formed a ring around Tiffany, staring and pointing. She knew she had to do whatever Green said or he would just keep her standing here with everyone staring at her naked breasts.

"OK," Tiffany said softly.

"OK what?" Mr. Green asked.

"OK, he can help me try it on."

"Ask him," Green ordered.

"Would you please help me try this halter top on?" she said to the ugly biker.

"Oh, one more thing, Tiffany," Green said nonchalantly. "To make sure we get the best fit, I want you to take a real breath and hold it till I tell you to let it out."

Tiffany knew what the sadistic teacher was doing, but had no choice. She inhaled a lungful of air, which caused her to stomach to flatten in and her chest to stick out even more. It looked as if she was deliberately flaunting her fantastic bare tits at the customers in the store.

Mr. Dangerous grinned, and Mr. Green handed him the JUST DO ME top.

At the entrance to The Rave, Roger White was capturing the whole scene on video.

The biker held the tiny top in his meaty paw and eyeballed the scared, half-naked cheerleader standing in the middle of his store. He slowly untied the two sets of strings on the back, taking his time. The four other teenagers in the store just stared. It felt as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next move in the strange little drama of dominance and submission.

Mr. Dangerous laid the halter down over the tops of Tiffany's beautifully jutting breasts, then stepped behind her and pulled the two strings that tied around the back of her neck. Although her breasts were now partially covered, the pink nipples, stiff with cold and fear, still poked out for all to see. She wanted more than anything in the world to cover them, but knew she had to keep her hands obediently at her sides, or else the whole process would be dragged out even longer.

The clerk took hold of the bottom of the halter and pulled it gently down over her breasts, brushing the hairy backs of his hands over her nibbles as he covered them. The top came down a little below her nipples, but still left sweet-looking half-moons of teenaged flesh hanging out below.

"Doesn't look like it's gonna cover 'em up, boss," he said to Green. "These titties are just too big." Tiffany was mortified.

"Let's keep trying, maybe we can make it work," Green replied. Dangerous pulled the second set of strings behind Tiffany's bare back and tied them there.

"OK, you can exhale, Tiffany," said Green. She did, but even as her body regained its usual shape, it was apparent to all in the store that the halter top just barely covered her. In addition to the breastmeat that hung out the bottom, she was flashing as much cleavage as if she was wearing a Wonderbra, and only a Wonderbra. The small amount of black fabric that covered the middles of her breasts and the still-erect nipples was stretched extremely tight, and the logo JUST DO ME was slightly distorted, but still readable.

"What do you think?" Green asked the burly clerk.

"Well, I liked her better with her tits hanging out," he answered honestly, and the teen boys watching nodded furiously in agreement, still speechless. "But it does make her look pretty fuckin' hot, I gotta say that."

"Tiffany, do you think you look pretty fuckin' hot?" Green asked.

The tormented teenager didn't know what she was supposed to answer. She decided the best course was to quickly agree with everything, just to get the ordeal over with. "Yes sir," she whimpered meekly.

"I'm worried that when you leave the store and start bouncing through the mall, your tits are gonna pop right out of that top," Green told her. "So hold your arms very firmly against your sides." Tiffany did so, and the effect was to push her bosoms out even more, accentuating the cleavage.

"Very good," Green said. "And since you have your arms holding the sides of your new halter in place, you won't be needing this." And he deftly reached around and untied the strings stretched across her back. Tiffany instantly knew that she had to keep her arms locked at her sides, that any release in the pressure on the sides of the halter would probably cause it to pop right off her chest, so tight was the fit.

"Tell you what," Green said to the tattooed clerk. "How about giving us the halter in exchange for the little show we put on?" There was no disagreement, only a big grin and a nod.

"So, let's go, sweetie," Green said, and guided Tiffany by the elbow toward the entrance, where she saw her principal clicking off the video camera that had captured the entire humiliating display.

As the young girl walked out of the store and into the mall, she realized how vulnerable she was. The high heels made her walk unsteady. The ben-wa balls began slooshing around again inside her wet teenaged pussy, sending wonderful erotic messages throughout her confused body. She had to keep her arms locked down at her sides as she walked. From behind, she was naked from the neck to her ankles, except for the micro-mini skirt that clung tightly to her hips. From the front, she had a little more covering, but was advertising herself as the biggest slut in the world with the JUST DO ME logo on her shirt. It was all she could do to keep walking, and yet she knew that was her only hope of eventually getting out of the mall.

"One final touch, bitch-baby, and then we're done here and ready to go home," White told her. As he pulled her into a small alcove of pay phones that was fortunately empty. He reached into a Spenser's Gifts bag and pulled out a plastic tiara, the kind little girls would wear for dress-up. It was silver and crusted with cheap rhinestones, and the plastic had been molded in front to spell out the word "PRINCESS".

"Since you think you're such a princess," White told the girl, "we thought we should make it official." He put the tiara on Tiffany's head, adjusted it, and tucked its clips into her hair. Somehow the tiara was the worst touch of all to the girl. The slutty clothing was at least a coherent ensemble, but the tiara was like a sick joke, and just called even more attention to her, if that was possible.

"You can take a stroll up the length of the mall and back again, by yourself," White told her, "and then we'll take you back to school." He pulled out the video camera. "And make it look like you're enjoying yourself. We're not quite done with our evening yet; there's more to come when we get back to school. If you put on a good show here at the mall, maybe we'll go a little easy on you when we get back. But if you look like you're miserable, we'll just have to think of some more things to do. Think we can come up with any, fellows?" he asked the three other perverted men in the group.

"Oh, I got a little mental list," whispered Joe Black. " A looooong mental list."

"Get going, babe," White said, and slapped Tiffany hard on her spandex-covered ass. She took a few wobbly steps out into the mall.

Once she got going, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. At least it wasn't a rainy Saturday afternoon, she told herself, when the mall would have been packed. Or at least it wasn't the Beverly Mall at home, where she couldn't avoid running into friends and classmates. As she walked, the balls in her pussy worked their magic, turning and churning, upping her lust level with every step. She tuned out her surroundings and barely saw the middle aged men who stopped in their tracks to stare, the boys from The Rave who had hooked up with some friends and were trailing her every step a few yards back, the disapproving stares of the women who saw only a cheap slut strutting around, offering her nubile body to every man. White got the whole thing on video, even the cutaways to the onlookers.

Finally she was finished with her long walk. The whole trip to the mall had only taken an hour, but it seemed like an eternity to the poor girl. She wondered how much more abuse she could take from these men, and whether it would get worse. She knew that so far, none of them had fucked her, and she'd only sucked off two of them, and she somehow knew, even though she wouldn't let herself dwell on it, that such a status quo could not possibly last much longer.

Nor would it. The men had carefully timed the evening's events, and knew that if they left the mall now, and drove quickly back to Beverly, they'd have about half an hour with Tiffany before she was due home. All four had raging hard-ons based on what they had done to the school's best-looking cheerleader, and based, as well, on what they had in store for her when they got back to school.

(Dr. Wu would like to pay homage to James Dawson, whose classic story "Cheerleader's Torment" provided some of the inspiration for this chapter.)

* * *

CHAPTER 8: THE ONE WITH THE HISTORY LESSON

The big Lincoln Navigator sped through the night on the way back to Godfrey Daniels High School and the remainder of Tiffany's evening with her tormentors. Traffic was non-existent, but had there been any, they would have seen a strange sight: out of the back seat window on the driver's side stuck a cute bare foot.

And out of the passenger's side back seat window, another cute bare foot. In the back seat, Tiffany was in agony. After she had left the mall with the men and gotten into the SUV in the parking lot, they had ordered her to strip off her panties. Mr. White, the principal, had told her they would see how the trip worked without handcuffs this time, but that they were ready to cuff her again if she wasn't completely co-operative.

Wedged again in the back seat between Joe Black, the school janitor, and John Brown, her algebra teacher, the cute cheerleader was ordered to take off the high-heeled pumps in which she had been strutting around the mall looking like a slut. She did so willingly, as they had really been hurting her feet. Then White told her to stick her right foot out the right window, and her left foot out the left. To make sure she obeyed, Old Joe got out the cuffs and rattled them in her face.

Although it was difficult, the girl quickly complied, so anxious was she to avoid being cuffed and helpless again. Fortunately, her cheerleading practice and teenaged limberness served her well. She went into what amounted to a splits in the backseat of the Lincoln, and managed, barely, to get each foot out of each rear window. As soon as they were out, White hit a button in the control panel up front and both windows began to move upward.

"Nooo!" Tiffany shouted and started to pull her feet in. But in a flash, Black and Brown each grabbed an ankle firmly in their hands and held her feet in place. Up, up, up went the power windows, until finally Tiffany's feet were trapped in place. The glass pinning her ankles to the ceiling wasn't really painful, but the position was a terrible strain. Her beautiful naked legs were now spread as wide as they could possible be spread, almost but not quite in a straight line. In order to accommodate the position, Tiffany had had to scoot her butt forward on the seat, hiking the black miniskirt up almost to her waist, and completely exposing her gorgeous blonde pussy to the lustful gazes of the men. The muscles in her thighs quivered slightly at the difficulty of holding the position, but Tiffany knew that she had no choice, and that in all probability she would be trapped like this - spread wide, vulnerable, naked from the waist down - for the entire half-hour drive back to town.

The teen beauty's big blue eyes were filled with fear and anguish. "Ohh, please, my legs hurt," she begged her captors. As the Navigator picked up speed, the wind blew against the naked soles of Tiffany's feet, tickling them slightly, adding yet another sensation to the over-stimulated girl.

"Hush, Princess," said Tom Green, her English teacher, from the front seat. "That's what we're going to call you from now on: Princess. You've even got the crown to prove it," he added, referring to the cheap plastic child's tiara Tiffany was still wearing. "You've always acted like such the little princess, and now we're just following through on that. It's going to be a real hoot when you show up at school tomorrow wearing that tiara, Princess."

The teenager's perfect breasts heaved up and down as she struggled to maintain her composure at the thought of appearing at school in such a ridiculous mockery.

"And now that we're alone," White said, "we can do without the halter top." Instantly, Joe Black grabbed the bottom of the skimpy black halter and yanked it up, and Tiffany's milky white tits spilled out. With the halter now bunched around her neck and the miniskirt hiked to her waist, all of her lovely charms were on full display. Her face burned with shame, her leg muscles ached, the wind tickled her feet, and the SUV pushed on relentlessly.

"Before we start our next game," White told the 16-year-old girl, "I want to tell you a couple of stories. I suggest you listen well, because your future depends on how well you understand them.

"As I told you earlier, these games have been going on for about 10 years. I started it, then Old Joe joined me, then Tom and John. We wait for a student at Daniels to fuck up, and then we exploit her weakness and blackmail her. Sexual abuse is part of the game, but after you've fucked 40 or so teenaged girls, the mind longs for more...er, creative pursuits. So we've been focusing more and more on entrapping the stuck-up cunts, the cock-teasers, the princesses, the little girls who walk around like their shit don't stink, and then humiliating them utterly. Coming up with new ways to accomplish that keeps us on our toes and keeps the game interesting.

"So far," White continued, "you've performed better than some of our past victims, but still not quite at the level we expect. Back there in The Rave, for example, we told you to smile when you were trying on your halter top, and you didn't. We were shooting the whole thing on video, and it would be much more effective if it had appeared like you were doing that little number of your own free will. Now we'll have to have our friend, Mr. Isherwood, edit the tape, and it will probably only be snippets of you, stripped to the waist in public being ogled by a gang. Admittedly, once we get those few shots added on to your ongoing video, along with the shots of you strutting around the mall like a whore in heat, it will look to anyone viewing it that you are not under any duress, which is, of course, the idea. But we hate it when one of our victims makes our little games harder for us, and when we hate something, it makes us even more creative and even nastier. So I suggest you get with the fucking program, Princess!"

Tiffany sniffled, and shuddered. They were madmen! But she was trapped, so she simply said, very meekly, "Yes, sir."

"Now let me tell you about a little girl named Claire. This was about eight years ago, and Claire was a senior at Daniels. An honor student. National Honor Society. Salutatorian. Played first violin in the school orchestra. A virgin. A little on the thin side, but a real beauty. She could have been a model. Such a good girl. But to keep her grades up and manage all of her workload, Claire had developed a bit of a speed habit. Not a lot, just sometimes, for studying. One of her teachers suspected, and sent her to me. I did a search of her purse - illegal, of course, but I guess Claire wasn't that bright after all - and found a few capsules.

"The game was on, and for awhile, it went pretty much the way yours was going. We started with some videos, to get even more blackmailing material on Claire. While she technically was cooperative, at every step she made it difficult for us. She'd threaten to tell her parents, or she'd cry throughout a video shoot to make it unusable, on and on. What a pain in the ass!

"Her attitude just pissed us off. Normally, we cut our girls loose after we've had our fun, and let them go back to their little teenaged lives, dry-humping boys in the backs of cars and watching MTV or whatever the hell they do. But not Claire. We felt she hadn't learned her lesson, so when she went away to Harvard, we kept tabs on her. We flew up midway through her freshman year with a video from her senior year of her giving eight consecutive blowjobs to some guys we recruited, her face clearly visible, and told her we'd show it to her boyfriend and all her teachers if she didn't make a new one. We rented a hotel room, and tied her down spread-eagle on the bed, and brought in a German Shepherd we'd borrowed from a friend.

Tiffany's heart was racing as White told the story. My God, she thought, these men are worse monsters than I thought! A dog! Oh my God!

"Little Princess Claire freaked out, but fortunately she was well tied and thoroughly gagged. We spread Alpo all over her pussy and turned the Shepherd loose. His big, rough tongue started licking, and licking, and licking. We'd tucked some Alpo well up inside her, and he was rooting that nose up into her pussy, and lapping for all he was worth. Pretty soon the inevitable happened. Against her will, Claire started to get turned on by the dog going down on her. She stopped struggling, and started bucking her hips upward. We took the panty gag out of her mouth and instead of screaming for help, she started moaning, "Ohhh, Jesus, yes, Jesus, don't stop! That feels so good!" And right there on the bed, Claire had herself one shattering, mind-blowing orgasm from being licked by a dog.

"That's when we told her we had been surreptitiously taping the whole show. She'd forgotten how devious we were, and when she didn't see a video camera and started focusing on the dog, she just forgot everything. That was one of our all-time best videos, and we showed it to Claire. Although the Internet was pretty new at that point, we'd managed to get in touch with a Japanese businessman who had offered us big money for that kind of tape, or several other types. We told Claire she could either continue to cooperate, or we'd sell the tape. She didn't know if she'd ever even visit Japan, but the thought of a bunch of Japs sitting around watching her orgasm with a dog and whacking off had a powerful effect. We turned off the video camera and boned that Harvard freshman up the ass for one solid hour. She was still so turned on from Rover that with a little tweaking on her clit, she came over and over even when Old Joe had his rather impressive piston at work. Hell," White added with an evil leer, "especially when Old Joe was working that ass!

"So flash forward a few years," White continued. "Claire graduated Harvard, went to Law School, made Law Review, got a great job on a partnership track at a top firm in New York. She was about 26 now. This would have been about six months ago. The four of us flew to New York and made an appointment to see a Mr. Mason, the senior partner in the firm. We told him we had important information about a young woman at his firm who was about to be made a full partner. We played Mr. Mason the video of Claire and the dog, and man, I thought his eyes were gonna pop out of his head. It was a risk, we knew. The guy could have had us arrested, but we gambled that most men, faced with the opportunity we were presenting to Mr. Mason, would take the low road, the testosterone highway. Not only did he pay us nicely for the tape, but we signed a contract, that if we ever needed legal representation, he would provide it pro bono. Sooner or later, we figure, some little girl is going to squeal on us, and there's going to be a trial. But we not only have high-priced counsel on call, we have the tapes. Any girl dumb enough to go to the authorities is going to have to sit up on that witness stand, while Mr. Mason plays the videos we've taken of her, carefully edited so that everything looks non-coerced.

"Imagine yourself on that witness stand, Tiffany, with your family in the audience, and your friends, watching that video of you masturbating and sucking a dick, with a table full of drug paraphernalia spread out in front of you, and trying to explain it. Or stripping off your top and strutting around a mall like a bitch in heat. But I digress.

"Mr. Mason told Claire that he was sponsoring a small retreat that weekend with some powerful lawyers at other firms, but not to tell anyone at the firm because it might be construed as favoritism. When Claire showed up at the resort, Mason played the video for her, and then dictated the deal: He would make her a full partner in the firm, and in return, she would be his sex slave. The guy was in his 60s, and sometimes had trouble getting it up, but he found that whipping Claire's ass until it bled got him good and hard.

"So now, every weekend, Claire meets Mason in an expensive hotel room in New York, where the walls are so thick they're virtually soundproof. He orders her to strip, and he gags her with her own panties, so her screams are muffled. Then he has her lay face down on the coffee table, and straps her wrists and ankles to the legs, immobilizing her. A couple of pillows from the bed are pushed under her tummy, raising her ass up, presenting it as a target. Mason reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a thin, supple switch, and proceeds to just beat the bejeesus out of Claire's ass and the backs of her thighs for a good half hour. Then, when he's good and hard, he sodomizes her - fucks her up the ass, which probably really hurts since she's covered with raw, bleeding welts.

"And that is Claire's life for the foreseeable future, Princess."

The beautiful cheerleader was speechless. Her mind churned with the images her principal had planted there, of a high school honors student who was now the toy of a cruel and sadistic boss. She knew that somehow she had to avoid Claire's fate, although she wasn't sure just how far these men would push her. But she would do anything, she vowed silently, anything!

"Remember the part about the Japanese businessman?" White asked. Tiffany was silent.

"Hey, Princess, I asked you a direct question!" he barked.

"Yes, sir," she blurted out. "Yes, I remember!"

"Well, we've been corresponding with him via e-mail for some time, and the market in Japan just keeps getting stronger and stronger. It seems the really rich perverts over there are burned out on anything that smacks remotely of commercially produced. They want fresh victims, with the emphasis on victims. Real girls - American - innocent, being defiled and abused in ways that are even a bit disgusting for us. That's why occasionally we farm out some of our video work to a guy we'll call Dr. Wu. You know, like the Steely Dan song: "Are you crazy, are you high, or just an ordinary guy?"

Tiffany had never heard the song, but responded quickly: "Yes, sir!"

"Anyway, Dr. Wu is where we send girls who really a need a wake-up call. OK, not girls. So far it's only been one girl. Tara O'Hara. She was two years ago. One week a nice, normal high school girl, the next week, a total wreck. I hear she's a crack whore now in Dallas, giving blowjobs for $25 a pop.

"Any rate," White continued, "we were at the mall one night with Tara, playing pretty much the same game we were with you tonight. Little Tara can't stand it, and breaks away from us when she sees a security guard and goes running up to him, babbling about how she's been kidnapped by those men over there, and they're going to rape her, yada yada yada.

"We thought the jig was up. Fortunately, mall security guards are not always your most upstanding citizens. We quietly offered the guy a sizable bribe and a half-hour with Tara in his office. Of course, he took it. And he took her. Rather roughly, from the look of her when she staggered out.

"But Tara needed to be taught a lesson, so we made her call her parents from the mall and tell them she was staying over at a friend's house. We drove straight to Dr. Wu's cabin, way out in the boonies. Nobody around for miles. The kind of place where a girl can scream and scream, and no one will ever hear her, except for a bunch of horny Japanese businessmen watching the tape of her screaming.

"Dr. Wu made several videos of Tara that night, aimed at different markets. One of the milder ones was for guys who like watching a girl get pissed on. He brought in half a dozen bikers, gave 'em a few beers each, propped her mouth open and let 'em all line up and take their turn. She just about choked to death, but managed to swallow most of it. Then there was a doggie tape, only Dr. Wu didn't stop like we did with Claire with just licking. He had a couple of Great Danes mount Tara and fuck her half to death. One in the pussy, one in the ass.

"Then he made what he called the toys tape, which means different things that were used to fuck little Tara. He started out small, with a pool cue, then moved on to a beer bottle. Gradually, her pussy was lubricating and she got looser, so he moved up to a cop's nightstick, a kitchen glass, a billiard ball. He finished her off with the fat end of a baseball bat. Got it in about six inches, if I remember correctly. Six inches of Louisville Slugger. Man, you should have heard her howl.

"And while he was filming the finale, you know what song he was playing on his boombox, Princess? That song by the Beastie Boys that goes "I did her like this, I did her like that, I did her with a whiffle ball bat." That Dr. Wu has one sick sense of humor, but one eclectic appreciation of popular music!" the evil principal chuckled. He took a breath, then continued.

"Finally, there were the torture tapes. Because she had to go back to her family, he was not able to do anything causing permanent damage, which limited him somewhat. But you'd be surprised what a sustained beating with a rubber garden hose on the soles of the feet can do. Or how an expert can use a cigarette lighter and hold it just close enough to a girl's nipples and pussy to make them unbelievably painful, yet not cause any actual burns. Electricity is pretty good, too. You shove a metal dildo up a girl's cunt, attach alligator clips to her nipples, and attach them both to a hand-cranked generator. Then let her rip! Yeehaw! Little Tara had thought she was screamed out from the baseball bat till she started getting jolts from volts!

"And all this, Princess, was being done to a sweet little girl, only 15, a year younger than you. We split the profits of the tapes with Dr. Wu. Tara, as I said, was completely broken by her night in the cabin and never even graduated."

Mr. White paused. "And that's what happens to little Princesses who don't get with the program, Miss Tiffany Daniels."

The luscious young backseat beauty was in shock. She was beginning to hyperventilate again, and her luscious breasts bounced with the increasing gasps of air she was taking. She was hardly aware of the pain in the muscles of her widely stretched legs, or the presence of the men on either side of her in the back seat.

"So you are facing a choice, Princess," White said. "You can give less than 100 percent cooperation, and face the fate of Claire or even Tara. Or you can go along with us, do exactly what we tell you, never question an order, and do everything we tell you with a smile, as if it was your idea, your fondest fantasy. If you do that, we promise you we will not cause you any real physical pain. That's not what we're into. We also promise that you will remain a virgin, at least technically. That's as much for our own protection. We don't like wearing rubbers, and a pregnancy is just too messy to deal with. Finally, if you cooperate, eventually we will get tired of you, and some new little piece of teenaged fluff will present itself, and we'll move on, and you'll be left with only a set of interesting memories, but can go about the rest of your life.

"So what's it gonna be, Princess?"

"I I I I'll cooperate, sir," Tiffany stammered. "I'll do whatever you say. Please don't hurt me like those other girls." She had no choice, she told herself. No choice. It was out of her hands.

"That's a good princess," White said. "And who knows? Maybe not every moment will be torture. We like to see our playthings having a good time, like you did that first night with Mr. Green. There are few things more wondrous than a beautiful teenaged girl having a body-shattering orgasm, or a string of them. And with that, let's have some music.

"White pulled a CD out of the console beside him, pushed it into the Lincoln's player, and hit the advance button several times. The track he wanted came on, filling the SUV with the sound of Mick Jagger's nasty vocals, more than 30 years old:

"Under my thumb...The girl who once had me down

Under my thumb...The girl who once pushed me around

It's down to me...The difference in the clothes she wears

Down to me, the change has come, She's under my thumb ..."

"Why don't you relax as best you can, Tiffany, and the guys back there will make you feel good," White suggested. Old Joe the janitor and Mr. Brown needed no more prompting. Immediately, Old Joe put his fingers up to the opening of her young pussy and ordered, "Push those ben-wa balls out, baby." Tiffany, obedient, did just that, and the two metal balls pooped out into Joe's hand. They were wet with her pussy juice, and they left her young twat wide open.

"Here's a little something to fill up that opening," Joe said, and pushed a pink vibrator up inside her. He flicked a switch at the end, and the small machine began to hum and vibrate inside Tiffany's highly stimulated vagina.

While Joe was busy with her pussy, Mr. Brown reached into a soft drink cup he'd gotten at the food court and pulled out a large piece of ice. He reached over and began to run the ice on her left nipple. The tit-tip, shocked by the cold, began to grow erect. Around and around went the piece of ice, making Tiffany's nipple grow more and more engorged with blood. When it reached its peak, he transferred the ice to her right nipple and began to rub again, making it erect as well.

"Since your hands aren't cuffed, Princess, I want you to reach down and pull on your pussy lips and hold 'em open," Joe ordered. "But no fair touching your clit. That's gonna be our job."

Tiffany, still scared to death of the threats, obeyed meekly, pulling her pussy lips wide with both hands. Her little clit popped out from under its hood, looking like a small, moist pearl, glistening with desire.

"Yum yum yum," murmured the older janitor. He licked his thumb, and then pressed it down, gently but firmly, on Tiffany's hot, throbbing clit, and began to massage it in a circle.

Tiffany inhaled sharply. It felt soooooo good. Her horniness had temporarily vanished when she was being publicly stripped and displayed inside The Rave, and later, during White's long history lesson. But her erotic feelings had really just been pushed below the surface. She had, after all, spent half an hour walking through the mall with ben-wa balls jammed up her pussy, stretching her and massaging the sugar walls of her teenaged twat.

Mr. Black leaned over and began to whisper in her ear. "I gotta tell ya, sweetie, back there in the mall, you may have been the sexiest girl on the face of the earth. You looked so sweet and so hot, like Chinese mustard, baby, prancing around in those high, high heels, that teeny tiny skirt, that sexy top." His voice had a low, monotonous quality, almost hypnotic. "You got the longest, sexiest legs of any girl at Daniels High, sweet cakes. Those titties of yours are magnificent. And what's more, you know it, don't you girl? You know how hot and sexy you are. You love how the boys all want to have sex with you, how the male teachers all try to look up your skirt, how everyone ogles those tits. You love it, Princess."

And all the while Joe was cooing into her ear, telling Tiffany her own secrets, she continued to hold open her pussy lips with both hands, and Joe continued to rub her clit, which was getting bigger and bigger, redder and redder. It was if the tiny organ had a mind of its own and was straining upward for release at Joe's hand. And Mr. Brown, on her other side, kept rubbing the ice over her nipples, which were so hard Tiffany thought they might explode, that she might explode, that she was hovering on the brink of an explosion, that she was getting close and closer to her orgasm, and the vibrator in her pussy was buzzing and buzzing, and the wind tickled her toes as they stuck out the windows. She was going to cum so hard, so hard, and Joe's thumb was moving faster and faster, and it was a blur, the nipples, the pussy, the legs spread so wide, the clit, the toes, and she was getting so close, so close....

Tiffany wasn't even aware that she was moaning, over and over, oh yessss, Oh God yesss, feels so goooood.

And Jagger spat out the words and the music of the Stones filled the Lincoln, which smelled strongly of musky teenaged pussy:

"Under my thumb...the squirmin' dog who's just had her day

Under my thumb...a girl who has just changed her ways

It's down to me, yes it is...the way she does just what she's told

Down to me, the change has come

She's under my thumb..."

And as she got closer, images from Mr. White's stories kept flashing through her mind, disgusting things, hateful things, about girls being fucked by dogs, being raped by old men, being tied down and whipped, on their bare ass, being fucked with beer bottles and baseball bats, and being whipped, and fucked, and fucked up the ass, and dogs' cocks, and she had no choice, she had to give in to them, it was out of her hands, she was their slave, she was a sex slave, and she was getting closer, she was almost there...

"That's enough, guys!" ordered Mr. White, who'd been watching in the rear view mirror. Instantly, Brown and Black stopped what they were doing, withdrew their hands.

"Nooooo!" wailed the poor cheerleader, jolted from her dark and jumbled fantasy. She was teetering right on the brink of the biggest climax of her life. Without even thinking, she whipped both hands down to her clit and began to rub it in a frenzy, trying to get over that edge.

And again, she was thwarted, as the two men each grabbed a wrist and yanked her hands away.

"Pleeeeease! Pleeeeease!" the blonde beauty pleaded.

"No way, Princess," said White coldly. "You don't come until we do. But this is our exit, and we're five minutes from school, so let's end the evening with a bang, so to speak, and we'll all get our ya-yas out."

"A siamese cat of a girl...under my thumb

She's the sweetest, mmm, pet in the world..." sang Jagger in his anthem of dominance and control.

Tiffany's mind was a tangle of dark thoughts, unholy fantasies and images that she had never thought of in her 16 years, but over all, overwhelmingly, the desire to cum. Then she felt something, tickling her clit.

She opened her eyes, and saw that Mr. Brown was bending over her lap, over her obscenely splayed thighs and wide-open pussy, holding the plastic straw from his soft drink, and blowing on her clit! It tickled. Wildly. It stimulated her, but not enough. The short puffs of his breath struck her clit, and where normally it would not bother her at all, now it was the most maddening thing she had ever felt. It was if the blasts of air were keeping her clit super-sensitive, keeping her aware of her own pussy, her deep and abiding horniness.

Her head rolled back against the seat, her hair flying from side to side as Brown and Black securely held her wrists.

"You ready to cum, Princess?" whispered Black. "You ready?"

"Yes! Yes! Please!" she begged.

"Here's the school parking lot," said White, as Green, in the front seat, shut off the video camera that had been recording Tiffany's frenzied begging for an orgasm. "Joe, would you go unlock the cafeteria? Not much longer, Princess Tiffany, and you'll have some orgasms you'll never forget."

He didn't add, because he didn't need to, that she wouldn't be the only one.

* * *

To Toying With Tiffany: Ch. 9 - 13

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