DARE

by James Crow

  When he told the class to sketch their own foreshortening example, I knew in an instant what I was going to draw. The image just came to me in a flash.

  Mr Tinley walked around the class with that metal ruler in his hand, peering over the shoulders of every single student. I sketched like crazy, with my blazer open, knowing I’d be one of the last he’d come to. I wanted him to see it.

  I’d started at the bottom of the page with the soles of the baby’s feet – they looked huge, took up half the page. And behind those podgy feet was the stretched cunt the baby was being pushed out of, the mound of belly, the opened legs, a huge nest of pubic hair, and right at the top of the page you could just see the mother’s screaming face.

  I had to push that gum to one side of my mouth and concentrate on my breathing as Mr Tinley reached the back row. I kept my focus on adding the final touch… breasts poking above the mound of belly. I was shading in the nipples as Mr Tinley stood behind me. He lingered. My God he fucking lingered and I knew I had him. But he kept me waiting. Didn’t say a thing. Not until class finished. He congratulated everyone on some fine efforts as the class filed out the door. I took my time, hung right back, made sure my blazer was open and my mouth was working that gum as I collected up my stuff.

  I glanced at him. That’s when he beckoned me to him, just as the last student left and the door clicked shut. He looked at me for long seconds. Or rather, he looked at my chest for long seconds.

  Remove your blazer, he said and I felt a warm trickle between my legs.

  He told me to stand in the corner, that he would deal with me shortly. It was exhilarating, standing there by the window in just my blouse and skirt, watching the snow come down, my breath fogging the glass, my nipples so tight it made me shiver.

  He kept me waiting and I loved it. I could hear him at his desk, his pen on paper. I loosened the first three buttons on my blouse and pretended he was sketching me. My cunt was so wet. I watched that snow fall with a smile on my face. I didn’t want it to end.

  A good half hour passed before he spoke again. He’d been waiting for the place to clear, to make sure we were alone.

  He told me to come stand before him. I took a deep breath and went to him on shaky legs with my thighs sticking together. His eyes went straight to my chest, my opened blouse. I chewed at the gum. He held out a hand, right up to my chin, and in my mind, I sucked his fingers in my mouth.

  ‘You’re so fucking wet, babe,’ Drew said, ‘I don’t want this to fucking end.’

  I thumped my cunt onto him, dug my claws in his pecs. ‘Me neither,’ I told him, and I almost came when his face changed to Mr Tinley’s smiling face, his rosy cheeks.

  I mewled for him. Slid onto that big fat cock and fucking mewled for him. The birdsong had started up from the nest above. The hay on the floor around us shimmered like treasure. Even the creak of the bed was an orchestra.

  ‘I really need to come,’ Drew said, ‘make me fucking bleed, babe.’

  I squeezed his pecs so hard it hurt my fingers, but his skin wouldn’t break. ‘You’re too fucking tough,’ I told him.

  ‘Use your fucking teeth,’ he said.

  In for a penny!

  I didn’t suck Mr Tinley’s fingers in my mouth. I bottled it. But I did give the gum a final chew then deliberately slowly I tipped it over my bottom lip with my tongue, ensuring it dropped into his waiting palm soaked in my spit. I poked my tongue right out, allowed the last dribble to trail up his fingers.

  He swiped the handkerchief from his breast pocket, dropped the gum in the bin by his desk and wiped his hand clean. He went to the door, locked it, pulled the blind down.

  I swear my mind was going crazy. His hands were all over me. My clothes were being ripped off.

  Danielle, he said, still standing at the door.

  Yes, sir.

  He was looking at the easels. That’s when I noticed he’d clipped my sketchpad up there. It made me smile.

  Remind me how old you are.

  Nineteen, sir.

  Nineteen.

  Yes.

  He stared at my chest. I lifted it for him, stuck my tits out, nipples straining at the fabric.

  You wear lipstick like a tart.

  His words made me prickle.

  You chew gum like a tart.

  My mouth filled with spit.

  You wear a short skirt when it’s snowing outside, like a tart.

  Yes, sir.

  You are not wearing a bra, like a tart.

  For you, sir.

  What?

  I want you to… touch me, sir.

  He swiped up the metal ruler, smacked it off my sketchpad and I flinched.

  This, he said, what is the meaning?

  Drama, sir.

  Drama?

  Just like you said, sir.

  Drama.

  Yes, sir.

  He looked at my sketch. I could tell he liked it.

  I admit, he said, it is striking.

  Thank you, sir.

  He looked again at my chest.

  In my mind, I tweaked my nipples. In reality, I lifted my chest again.

  Why did you choose breech?

  Sir?

  A breech birth – he smacked the ruler off the pad again – feet first!

  Is that not right, sir?

  Babies come out head first, Danielle. You do not know this?

  The image in my mind of a baby’s head popping from a cunt didn’t seem right at all.

  My face was burning up. I couldn’t speak.

  ‘Bite you where?’ I giggled at the idea, it made my cunt all sloppy.

  Drew cupped my face, pulled me to his pecs. I licked across them, flicking my tongue over his nipples with his cock deep inside me.

  I sucked a nipple into my mouth and he pushed my head into him.

  ‘Suck hard before you bite,’ he told me, ‘I’m gonna pound your sweet cunt, babe. And when you come, I want you to bite me. Bite me fucking hard.’

  I moaned at his words, sucked hard on that nipple and started to move on his cock, his hands now at my hips.

  My hands had gone to my blouse buttons without any thought from me. Mr Tinley stared as I slowly loosened each button, my fingers trembling like crazy.

  Danielle, I…

  Shush, I told him and slowly opened my blouse, scraping the fabric across my tight-as-fuck nipples as I revealed myself to him.

  I saw him swallow. Saw his nostrils flare. I knew he was hard.

  Do you like my tits, sir? In for a fucking pound.

  He blinked at me, eyes back to my tits.

  Sir? I cupped my tits, gave a little squeeze.

  Yes, he said.

  Touch them for me, sir.

  He glanced at the door, then back to me, took a step forward.

  Danielle… this is…

  I shushed him again, took hold of his hand and placed it on my left tit. His hand was so hot. He squeezed it, pushed at the nipple with his thumb. And to my blissful delight, his other hand came up and he was tugging on my nipples, his mouth hanging open.

  This… this is disgraceful behaviour.

  Yes, it is, sir. I want to be disgraceful for you.

  My Tinley lowered his head to my tits and lapped his tongue like a dog. I grabbed his hair, groaned like a tart, and he sucked a nipple in.

  When I took his hand from my waist and pushed it to my thigh he sprung back like he’d been electrocuted. He was going to bolt. I could see it in his eyes.

  I’ve been a bad girl, I told him.

  Yes, you have.

  Do you still have a cane, sir? I saw him swallow again. The cane you used to hit disgraceful children with.

  You’re not a child, Danielle.

  Do you wish I was, sir?

  Danielle!

  Your cane, sir?

  No, I do not have it.

  He was lying. I could tell.

  Then your ruler will do, I told him.

  His eyes went to the metal ruler on his desk. I lic
ked my lips.

  I should be punished, sir.

  He took his jacket off, hung it over his chair, glanced again to the door before picking up the ruler.

  I have a message for you, sir.

  I turned my back to him, leaned forward, and lifted my skirt over my ass.

  Oh God, he said.

  I stayed in that position. It seemed like an age before I heard him move, his Doc Martens squeaked on the floor.

  Danielle.

  I looked over my shoulder. Yes, sir.

  He was still holding the ruler, rolling up his sleeves at the same time.

  Thank you for the invite, he said.

  His eyes looked fierce, pumped, and he was going to fucking hit me. He stepped up and touched his hot fingers to my ass. I gave him an appreciative sigh, followed by a moan as he traced the message with a fingernail.

  On my left ass cheek, I’d written HIT ME and on the other HARD!

  He told me I was dirty girl. I told him I wasn’t a girl.

  He told me to take my blouse off, said he wanted to see my tits ripple when he whacked my ass.

  I whipped it off and dropped it to the floor.

  He said to lose the skirt, so I shoved it down and kicked it away, naked now apart from my shoes and black socks.

  He told me to brace myself, so I parted my legs a little, bent over and grabbed my shins and made sure my ass was high.

  He ran a finger down my ass crack to my soaking cunt. Then two fingers, sliding through my juices. I moaned for him, told him to hit me.

  And he did.

  Real hard across the ass and I fucking squealed.

  Danielle.

  Yes, sir, panting like a bitch.

  You must remain quiet.

  Yes, sir, then a brainwave, you could stuff something in my mouth, sir.

  He came to my front, stroked the underside of my hanging tits.

  I’m going to fuck your dirty mouth, he said.

  Please, sir.

  But for now, you need to be quiet, he said and stuffed his handkerchief in my mouth.

  He said he was going to give me six of the best. But he didn’t. I counted each skin-searing whack. He hit me eleven times before he stopped and I heard the clatter as the ruler hit the floor.

  He stroked my burning ass cheeks and I flinched and hissed.

  He pulled the handkerchief from my mouth. Tell me what you want, Danielle.

  I want you to come for me, sir.

  You first, he said and ordered me to sit on his desk and open my legs.

  What a thrill when he put his head down there and tasted me. He probed with his tongue, rolled it around my clit, then he brought his head up to mine and pushed his tongue into my mouth. He sucked on my tits next, and it was everything I hoped it would be.

  Come for me now, he said.

  Show me your cock first, sir. In for a crazy pound.

  He pulled down his zipper and freed his hard cock. It was short and fat.

  I hope I don’t gag too much when you fuck my mouth, I told him and started rubbing my clit.

  His breaths were loud now. He started to work his cock.

  Don’t come yet, sir. I’m real hungry for your spunk.

  Hurry up and come, he said, and I was almost there.

  ‘Fuck babe,’ Drew said as I chewed on his tit, ‘I’m fucking ready.’ His big hands felt like vices clamped to my hips, my cunt a drooling slave to the monster he was sticking me with. He was close to exploding. ‘Now,’ he said and fucked me like a jackhammer. I bit down hard on his tit as the world went into a dizzy blur.

  Fuck, I said, up there on Mr Tinley’s desk. I hooked a hand under me and stuck two fingers in my ass while I rubbed my clit into a frenzy.

  He took a step closer, cock in hand. I knew he wanted to stick me.

  I stared at his cock, the slit in the end glistening. And then I came. Threw my head back and came a good one. I offered Mr Tinley my creamy fingers. He sucked them into his mouth then told me to get down on my knees.

  I slid from his desk to the floor. He didn’t resist when I undid his belt and tugged down his trousers and his boxers. His stubby cock poked from a black wiry nest. It looked fucking delicious. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue as far as it would go.

  I kept my eyes wide open as he pushed his cock through my lips… as he fisted my hair and made me gag. I didn’t puke but came close. And it didn’t take long. His leg went into spasm and jerked just as much as his cock when he came down my throat.

  He watched me dress afterwards.

  Danielle.

  Yes, sir.

  Thank you.

  Thank you, sir.

  I walked home across the fields, skipping in the snow.

  Drew came so hard my knees lifted from the bed.

  But I hung on with my teeth and he screamed.

  I didn’t know guys could scream.

  The bite was deep. Blood seeped from it. I licked a good while before he asked for another wrap. He squeezed my tits until the half-moon cuts bled again, then rubbed coke in before rubbing the rest into his own.

  ‘That was nice,’ he said.

  ‘That was very nice,’ I agreed.

  Chapter Eleven

  In the end, we decided we didn’t need a plan for Colin. Mr coke assured us of that.

  ‘In for a penny,’ I said and gathered up the remaining wraps.

  The barn next door wasn’t quite next door. It was a five-minute walk across wasteland overgrown with weeds. Drew grabbed a pack of bottled water from the pickup and we headed over there.

  It was warm and sticky, heavy grey clouds hung low and the air smelled charged.

  ‘Smells like thunder,’ Drew said as he lit us both a cig.

  I fucking hoped so. I love a good storm.

  The barn stood on the crest of a small rise. It was old and rusted and all boarded up; the big doors at the front were chained and padlocked. Just looking at those chains made me sweaty.

  I’d started sleepwalking around the time Cherry would have been born. Mother had found me in the utility room, sitting on the floor among the laundry with dirty socks over my hands.

  Crazy little freak.

  She’d found me walking up the street, naked as the day I was born, woken me up with a crack around the head.

  Where’s your fucking nightie?

  How the fucking hell would I know?

  Shut your filthy fucking mouth. And she’d kicked me all the way home.

  But the worst was when she threw a glass at me. It had smashed off my ribs and I’d woken to the sound of glass tinkling all around me as my ass hit the floor. I was in Mother’s room. Uncle Kev was fucking her.

  Get out! Get out! Get fucking out!

  When I’d stared, unable to move, she’d pushed him off her and came screaming at me, dragged me by the hair onto the landing, Stupid little fuck, and slammed the door in my face.

  She bought chains and padlocks that day. Chained my wrist to the radiator in my room at night. No more sleepwalking for me. In my dreams, I slit her throat and pissed in the hole.

  Drew said the way in was around the back, a missing panel. We made our way there, nice and quiet. There wasn’t a sound coming from inside the barn. The feeling that Colin was dead was stronger than ever.

  We hadn’t quite reached the corner of the building when Drew told me to hunker down. There were a few small gaps in the wood slats that you could see through. I got my first glimpse of Colin. He looked like any normal guy. Jeans, hoodie, sneakers. Slim build. He had a sack over his head and was roped to a chair. The chair was on its side. A thick chain was wrapped around Colin’s neck. It trailed along the floor and into the shadows. More chains were draped around old farm machinery. Chains on a table. Chains on the floor. I couldn’t wait to get in there.

  ‘Looks like he struggled,’ Drew said.

  That’s when I noticed the dark patch on Colin’s jeans. ‘He pissed himself.’

  Drew laughed. ‘When you gotta go!’
<
br />   ‘That’s what people do when they die, right? They piss themselves.’

  Drew laughed again. ‘Nah, let’s go see.’

  Mother brought me a bucket to piss in when I’d objected to being chained up for the night.

  That’s all you need, you fucking whiny moaner.

  I’d plucked up the courage and told her I was going to leave home soon, once I’d saved enough. I wasn’t nasty with it. I knew I daren’t be. I’d waited for the punch, or the kick, or whatever, but no, she’d dropped to her knees in front of me and burst into tears. Don’t leave me, baby. I need you here.

  I’d laughed. I’d actually laughed. Then she’d hit me, a good hard slap across the face, told me I was an ungrateful little bastard.

  Don’t you know how hard it was, bringing up a crazy freak asshole like you?

  Don’t you know that you wouldn’t survive a day out there without me?

  Don’t you know how much you break my heart every single day?

  Don’t you know that?

  Don’t you?

  She’d slapped me again.

  You’re going fucking nowhere. And don’t even fucking try because I’ll find you.

  I’d noticed the tears had stopped. The twisted lip of her smile. The way she eyed me up and down.

  Disgusting little shit. No one will ever believe your lies.

  I wanted to ask her what lies, but daren’t. She looked ready to strangle me.

  The idea came that she wanted me dead. Another idea came that I wanted her dead. And whoever struck first would survive. I lay in bed with my arm outstretched, attached to that radiator, and killed the bitch a thousand times. Drowning her in my piss bucket was a favourite. Hitting her over the head then chaining her to the radiator while I played with Just Kev as she watched with her mouth sewn up was another favourite. It had made me hot and squirmy and I’d rubbed one off with the chain.

  Mother seemed to grow fascinated by the chain. It started with a kiss. She actually kissed me on the forehead and sat me down at the kitchen table with Uncle Kev and a bottle of whisky. She passed around cigs and filled us all a glass.

  I knew she was up to something. I didn’t want to drink that whisky but it was super strong stuff. I was drunk in no time, with only the vaguest notion that I was being stripped and chained to the radiator, both my wrists this time, my ass on the floor. I’d woken to darkness and the sound of them fucking in the room next door. I needed to piss but there was no way to get up and reach the bucket. The bucket that had been moved to by the door. The bitch. I listened to the thump of the bed against the wall. Listened to the bitch coming. Crazy squeals, like she was being fucking murdered. I hoped she was.