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Well let’s see, there was early in the piece, that day back in Grade 5 when the home-room teacher’s handbag went missing and Matilda gave so graphic an account of having seen little Sue-Anne Thompson hovering around Miss Jamieson’s desk before relegating the said item to her schoolbag, that no-one doubted Sue-Anne’s guilt.
Of course when the missing item somewhat inconveniently tumbled out of Matilda’s locker some three weeks later – in front of the passing assembly, whispers grew that maybe Matilda Benson wasn’t necessarily the cute little Miss everyone thought she was.
Her early teenage years were a maelstrom of deceptive cunning. “The Texta affair,” where-in several classmates, found their homework submissions and class books defaced by broad black marking ink. Pointedly, none were exactly close friends of Matilda. The case remained unsolved but the rumor-mill had its suspicions. Then there was “The Case of the Disappearing Lunch-money” in eighth grade. Again the victims were not aligned with Matilda’s little clique, but it seemed to correspond with a period that the “suspect” turned up at school every second day with some new gadget or fashion accessory.
“How could you even think it was me?” Matilda would smile sweetly, “As if…” The teachers at her new school believed her of course, to even suspect such a well-behaved and presentable young lady was madness.
It was “The Brinks Job” however, that finally brought her undone in year ten. Not only was Stephanie Brinks a popular girl, she just happened to be the Principal’s daughter.
Planning is the cornerstone of any successful crime…or “lie” for that matter. The day Stephanie knocked Matilda off the number one class position for the second semester running – her fate was sealed. The fact that she had the hots for Rick Stevens, the class jock and line quarter-back had not escaped the notice of her peers. Unfortunately for her though, Rick had less interest in Stephanie than a hands-free cell-phone, although in Steph’s mind it was just a case of youthful shyness on Rick’s part.
The letter was brilliantly crafted. An outpouring of love and teenage fantasy laced with not a little sexual flirtatiousness. Stephanie hugged herself as she read what she supposed to be Rick’s heartfelt desires. “I knew it all along,” she told her classmates proudly, displaying to all, the romantic epistle clutched to her undeniably well-proportioned bosom.
At the point Rick laughed in her face and told her he was not the author, Matilda’s revenge was complete. Shamed, embarrassed, hurt and emotionally violated, Stephanie could but cry herself into submission.
“You think I wrote it Mr Brinks,” Matilda replied to the Principal’s questioning, fake tears forming at the corner of her eyes. “I love Stephanie,” she forced herself to say, “Whoever wrote that is a sick person Sir.”
It was an impressive performance. Even given the circumstantial evidence available, the Principal felt he was right off track here. What was he thinking?
It was just three days later that during a routine check-out of the school’s closed-circuit security video, Mr Brinks noticed a lone figure scooting across the hallway near the girls’ lockers. It was timed at 17.08 long after most everyone had left the premises. Backing the tape up and slowing to normal speed, he was astonished to see Matilda no less, obviously being highly vigilant and checking the corridors, approach the girl’s lockers with something in her hand. Slipping the article with some difficulty beneath the metal door, she then left along the eastern corridor towards the main entrance. On zoom, the evidence was irrefutable, confirming it to be his daughter’s locker and the object in Matilda’s hand, clearly a small envelope.
It was only a week earlier the school had secretly installed the new system.
Matilda’s parents were summoned to the school office where both then watched dumbfounded as the incriminating images were replayed.
“Why sweetheart?…why did you do it,” her father asked. “Have we brought you up to behave like this?”
Even in the face of indefensible guilt. Matilda was a class-act. Crying hysterically, she told, between dramatic outpourings of remorse, of her shame and misery at being ousted from the top of the class. How she felt she had let her parents and teachers down and that completely without rational thought she had hatched the plan to get back at Stephanie. “She could never face her friends again,” she sobbed and then buried her head in her hands – truly a performance that would in other circumstances, have landed her the Oscar!
The Principal and her parents stared at each other. Just who is the victim here they were now wondering.
Acceptance of any offered apology goes only so far. In Stephanie’s case not much further than her forced smile. Inside, it was still murder, death, kill!
It was obvious to all that Matilda was still a virgin, even at eighteen. It was obvious to Matilda too – she really had to do something about that. Stephanie it must be admitted, had the very solution in mind. After all, Matilda was the disease…she herself was the undoubted cure!
“I forgive you Matilda,” Steph replied, in response to the other girl’s declared apologies. “I suppose it was hard losing your position at top of the class after all that time,” she added – the slightest hint of catty satisfaction in evidence. If Matilda noticed, she didn’t show it.
“Look, I’m having my 18 birthday party this Saturday” she continued, ”You wanna come over? We can like, kinda make-up and everything.”
Although wondering why Steph appeared to be such a good sport, given the humiliation heaped upon her, she gladly agreed. After all, a couple of boys she really liked, she knew would be there.
“Ok Steph, thanks,” she replied, hugging her. “I’m so glad we can be friends again.”
“Oh, that’s OK Matilda,” Stephanie smiled at her, “I’m never one for holding a grudge. Life’s too short, right?”
It might at this juncture be appropriate to describe Matilda in detail. An extraordinarily pretty girl, slim and standing no more than five-three, weighing probably less than a hundred and twenty pounds. Fair hair that, brushed out, cascaded to the onset of her decidedly shapely and compact little bottom. Somewhat rounded face that proclaimed both youth and innocence. She didn’t even look her 18 years and two months. Hazel eyes that sat beneath long lashes accentuated her appeal and if that snub little nose wasn’t as cute a feature as one could wish for in that blemish-free visage – her delicate shaped ears were. It was a face you would want to kiss first and ask permission later. A few had done just that!
From upper middle-class origins, she dressed accordingly. Always neatly attired, even her sports uniforms were all creaseless and perfectly fitting. She had tried-out for the cheer-squad but although accepted, felt ultimately the status of such beneath her, and had declined further involvement.
As she sat there on her bed that Saturday afternoon, wondering just what she should wear to Stephanie’s party, she decided that maybe she should go with the “hot little girl” look rather than her usual “Yes I’m cute, but don’t come near me” dress sense. Fact is, she did want someone to come near her!
Accordingly, the skirt was shorter, the top cut lower and the make-up just a tad on the garish side. She even slipped on a g-string knowing that most teenage boys found them a turn-on…not that she was planning on letting any of them see that far up her skirt. The main idea was to make her feel sexier.
The party had been in full swing for almost an hour by the time her father dropped her off, insisting that he pick her up no later than 10.30 p.m.
“Hi there Matilda,” Stephanie said, opening the front door. “Hmmm you look really hot,” she mused, ushering her in to the lounge-room where she recognised pretty much all her school-friends as well as many others. Even Rick and his entourage were over the far side of the room she noticed. This had distinct possibilities!
Stephanie thrust a tall glass into her hand. “Daddy’s Champagne,” she giggled. “He’s never going to miss a bottle or three from his cellar.”
With no great track-record as a drinker, Matilda nevertheless did like the odd glass of sparkling effervescence. It being a party besides, she intended to enjoy herself. By the second glass she was certainly doing that, having danced with a couple of boys – a couple of girls too if the truth be known.
“Hey Matty,” Stephanie called out to her from across the room. She hated that nick-name but being lightly inebriated as well as unaccountably drowsy, took it on board without complaint.
“Come upstairs with me for a minute Matilda,” she was saying, ”I want you to tell me what you think of two new dresses my mom bought me.” Sipping the remnants of her champagne, she wandered after Stephanie who had almost reached the staircase just down the hallway. She was finding it increasingly difficult to navigate the stairs, almost slipping at one stage.
“Gosh Matilda, you’re a cheap drunk,” Steph laughed at her from the landing, “Better lay off the hard stuff for a while maybe?”
Stephanie’s bedroom was just a little along the upper hallway to the left. Following her school-friend in there, she noticed that aside from a bedside light that was on, it wasn’t overly well-lit. The room was dominated by a double bed that in other circumstances, she might have found odd.
It was then that movement behind her, betrayed the presence of other persons. She was momentarily confused.
“Speaking of hard-stuff Matilda,” Stephanie was saying, “There’s plenty of that here I’d be guessing. Enjoy yourself. I always figured that one good turn deserves another you stupid little bitch.”
So saying, she flounced out of the door closing it behind her. She heard the lock turned. Dizzy and almost without control of her faculties she watched helplessly as the shadowy figures encircled her.
“Whoa, is this one hot little tease or what?” muttered one of the boys, shepherding her inevitably towards the bed. Another shoved her backwards and losing her balance she fell lengthways on the covers. In seconds they had her in the center of the bed…there must have been at least six of them she sensed, her awareness badly affected now by the Rohpynol.
Hands fondled her breasts through her top as tears swam before her eyes. She felt others pushing her skirt up. Try as she might she could not co-ordinate any resistance.
“Matilda in a g-string? ya gotta be kidding me?” exclaimed one youngster, sufficiently inebriated himself, to have no qualms now about rubbing her pussy through the sheer material. Two other boys held her legs apart and the young girl’s shame was complete as fingers slipped beneath her panties, lustfully seeking her vaginal opening. She felt her top being roughly pulled up and at the point someone forcefully snapped her bra at the front, exposing her rather small but well rounded breasts, she gasped in fully embarrassed misery.
“Sexy little tits,” chorused a couple of actively-inclined gropers, having excessive fun pulling and manipulating her nipples. Had the young girl’s overall awareness been greater, she might have realised the degree in which those hot little teats were responding to their illicit treatment. As it was though, everything was little more than a blur right now.
As the fondling and fingering reached its zenith, all Matilda could do was let it happen. She knew she was crying unrestrainedly but individually she could barely distinguish between a finger up her pussy and others queued-up to penetrate her anal delights. Face after face was kissing her and she knew her breasts were being sucked by rotation.
With the understandably rising group lust, she felt her thong ripped off and then a familiar voice was inclined towards her.
“You figured you could use my name you little cunt, when you wrote that shit to Stephanie. Big mistake slut, now spread your fucking legs.”
Rick had no need to issue such instructions, as right that moment two of his football mates pulled her legs so wide, Matilda let out a cry of shock.
Rohpynol dulls the senses and limits reactionary activity. It doesn’t necessarily aid the natural enjoyment or anticipated pleasures of sex or even lessen one’s resolve not to participate in such. All that can be said in her favor, is that the continuous digital probing over the previous twenty minutes had most assuredly made Matilda wetter in all the right places – and she probably didn’t even realise.
Any way you cut it though, she was still a virgin – well, up to the point that Rick knelt there between her legs and thrust up hard into her, consigning her hymen to ancient history and her innocence to the recesses of recent memory.
Drugged or not, she screamed…loud enough for Stephanie downstairs to smile to herself in revengeful satisfaction. It was one time she would like to have been a boy herself!
Watching Matilda’s carnal rape was way too much for three other boys who knelt there jerking themselves stupid as Rick progressed along the firing line. Dimly, the young girl was aware of a sudden stream of warm sticky stuff falling across her breasts while another stream caught her flush on the left cheek.
The sight certainly spurred Rick on to greater things and he found himself gripped most pleasantly by a force of nature that knew no limits. Jerking quite involuntarily, he spurted what felt like several litres of inter-personal fluids way up inside that seethingly hot vaginal orifice, framed as it was by the girl’s neat and fully natural little triangle of light brownish curls. Rape had never looked more arousing!
“You’re up Steve,” Rick muttered, zipping himself up and making way for his 2IC.
Steve had little in the way of class, or social etiquette come to that. What he did have was a big cock though. Wavering between awareness and catatonic displacement, Matilda was most certainly privy to her pussy suddenly being invaded by an outsize battering ram. Spreading her legs further was in fact the only way of lessening the pain. Unfortunately Steve took this as a sign that his modus operendi was pleasuring the teenager and rammed it up her with increased gusto. A significant amount of blood had at this stage stained the coverlet and which if anything, catalysed Steve and the four subsequent rapists, to delve further into the sacrificial tabernacle.
At no stage was the naked girl attended by any less than three boys at once, all of whom continued to grope, fondle or otherwise abuse her vulnerable little body. She vaguely felt her hands seized and forced inside various sets of underpants where after a while, even three-quarters out of it, she accepted her role as enforced masturbator. Given everything else they were doing to her, it hardly mattered.
By the time the sixth boy handed over his boarding pass, she was a mess. Had she been more conscious – probably beyond emotional salvation too. Her labia were sore and swollen badly, leaking semen by the cupful. Her body was streaked with cum as was her face and hair. Looking at her breasts, covered now in so many fingermarks, one could be forgiven for thinking she had been molested by a posse of apprenticed pedophiles.
Just as the last boy fucked the young girl to the edge of consciousness. They key turned in the lock and Stephanie walked in. What she saw on the bed initially made her blanche even.
“Oh my God Rick, “ she whispered, You have had fun!”
Holding her hands now between her legs, cupping her abused genitalia and once more sobbing uncontrollably, she was aware of Stephanie leaning over her. The effects of the Rohpynol were marginally wearing off.
“How ya feeling chicky-babe?” Steph taunted her. “Bit sore? Well ain’t that too bad? Maybe next time now you’ll think before trying to pull a stunt like that again?" The boys, zipped-up once more, were filing out behind her. Some looked in almost as bad condition as Matilda herself.
“By the way Matty,” she continued, “Don’t bother reporting this to the Police either. Everyone here will give evidence you were acting like a slut downstairs and that you went up to the bedroom with them willingly. Bad luck if you’re pregnant too – wish I could hear you explain that to your dad!”
Her head spinning and her every muscle aching it seemed, she tried to sit up. She gasped as yet more semen flooded the bed.
“Oh, by the way Matilda dear,” Stephanie turned around on her way to the hall. “Have you met Kirsty and Anna from twelfth grade?” She ushered the two girls forward from the doorway. Way taller and considerably larger-framed than Matilda, they sat themselves down either side of her. Kirsty placed her hand on the young girl’s thigh. Anna looked on approvingly.
“What can I say?” Stephanie continued, “They just have this thing for pretty young girls? Enjoy sweetie!”
As the door closed behind her, Anna pulled something out of her bag.
Now if you thought Steve was big……
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