Part II
SG wanted to go back to the attic the next evening, but Estelle refused.
It was too dangerous. Eventually, someone was going to see them go into the
closet. Or hear SG's cries and moans. Besides, this was getting sick.
SG felt hurt and disappointed. But she couldn't make the machine work by
herself.
Well, Estelle wasn't the only person who could provide her with sexual
thrills. Even though it was a Wednesday, she sneaked over to the football field
after classes. Practice was breaking up, and she saw Louie and several other men
headed for the locker room. One of them spotted her and tapped Louie on the
shoulder. He turned and looked at her. She was too far away to see his
expression, but she couldn't miss his gesture. He waved for her to come forward.
Why had she come here? This was crazy. He wasn't even alone. Her
degradation would be witnessed by his buddies.
Nevertheless, she walked toward them. When she was close enough, Louie
said, "Well, what have we here? The hottest piece of ass at Marston."
She turned angrily and started to walk away. Louie quickly caught up
with her and grabbed her arm. "Don't walk away when I'm talking to you, slut."
He spun her around and slapped her across the face.
"You came here for dick, didn't you?" he said. "Well, I've got plenty of
dick for you, and so do my friends." He pulled her toward the locker room. For
an instant, she was ready to pull back, to break away, to run into town and take
a bus far from Lackanooka, from Marston, from this whole sordid scene.
But she didn't.
She let herself be dragged into the locker room. Several other football
players were already there, naked, with their pricks hanging between their hairy
legs.
"Look what we've got, guys," Louie said. "It's a Marston girl, looking
for dick."
They crowded around her. She counted quickly. Nine of them. All big and
athletic. Not enough for a decent fight, if she were interested in fighting. But
enough for a rousing gang bang.
And gang-bang her they did. Louie ripped off her jersey and bra, then he
lifted her off the floor by her wrists while two other men pulled down her skirt
and panties. She pretended to resist and made faint cries for help.
They weren't faint enough for one particularly muscular football player
who rammed his fist into her gut.
"Now, don't hurt her," said Louie. "We want her awake so she can
appreciate all we're doing for her."
Actually, SG had never been more awake in her life. Big hands were
clutching her tits and her buttocks, fingers were wiggling inside her pussy.
Then the fucking began. They bent her over a wooden table. Someone pulled the
cheeks of her behind apart and squirted lotion into her butt hole. Then he
jammed in his prick. She yelped in pain and delight.
When that one finished, another took his place. Five men reamed her
rectum. Four fucked her in the pussy.
After that, it was time for blowjobs. She confronted what seemed an
endless parade of pricks -- normal, big and humongous, circumcised and
uncircumcised, some with purple heads, others with pulsing red veins.
After half an hour, the men had satisfied themselves.
"What'd I tell you?" said Louie. "Best piece of ass at Marston, best
mouth, too -- and both always ready. Right, Blondie?"
SG lay face down on the floor in a daze, with cum flowing from her
mouth, her pussy and her ass.
"Answer when he speaks to you," said one of the men. He kicked her in
the side, and she groaned in pain.
Louie reached down and scooped her up. She felt light in his arms.
"What are you going to do with her?" one of the men asked.
"I'm going to do what any gentleman would do. Bring my date back home
and deposit her safely on her doorstep."
But he didn't deliver her to her doorstep. He and Tom decided it would
be more fun to deposit her on the doorstep of Toop the Snoop.
Dean Toopermann lived with her sister in a cottage on the edge of the
campus. They dumped SG, naked and semi-conscious, on the small brick front
porch. Louie reached into his pocket and pulled out a half pint of cheap
Bourbon. He poured it all over SG and rang the doorbell. Then he and Tom went to
hide in the bushes.
# # #
SG awoke to discover herself wrapped in a thick white towel and lying
next to the fireplace in Dean Toopermann's living room. She sat up, shook the
cobwebs out of her head and looked around.
Sitting a few feet away, in a rocking chair, was Toop. She had a large
globular glass in her hand, the kind brandy is served in. Standing behind her
was her sister, Regina, a big woman who was rarely seen on campus.
"So our drunken little tart isn't deceased, after all," said Toopermann.
"No, she's very much alive," said Regina. "See the glow on her bare
skin. I'd say she's the picture of health."
SG started to speak, then stopped. What could she possibly say? How
could she possibly explain?
Toopermann rose and walked toward a doorway. "Come on, dear. Don't keep
me waiting."
SG got unsteadily to her feet and followed.
They walked through the kitchen, then entered a darkened room.
Toopermann flipped a switch, and SG saw, in the middle of the room, a squat
wooden chair that looked very much like the one in the dormitory attic.
She gasped.
"Do you know what this is?" asked Toopermann.
"No," said SG, blushing.
"Ah, but you must have some idea. You see, your face just became
flushed, and that's a sign of lying. Of course, it's not the only sign. Here at
Marston, we've made a science of distinguishing between truth and falsehood --
deliberate falsehood. And this little chair is one of our more useful
inventions."
SG shivered.
"Are you cold?" Regina asked, in a husky, masculine voice.
"No, m'am," said SG.
"Frightened, then?" asked Toopermann. "You should be at least a little
frightened, because we're going to find out more about you tonight, including
how you came to my doorstep, naked and smelling like a distillery."
"And with ejaculate seeping from between your legs," added Regina,
stripping away the towel that was SG's only defense against their cold, prying
eyes.
"I want to go home," SG said plaintively. But Regina pushed her forward.
SG was close enough now to see that the chair had straps to secure a
victim's wrists and ankles and some sort of metal dome to fit on top of his or
her head.
But there was no hole in the seat. Whatever Toopermann and her sister
had in mind, metallic rape evidently wasn't part of it.
"Sit down," said Toopermann.
She sat, and Toopermann and Regina quickly and expertly bound her to the
chair.
"This may be a little uncomfortable," said Toopermann. She lowered the
metal helmet, which was attached to a vertical rod behind the chair, onto SG's
head.
The inside of the helmet had metal protrusions that hurt, but SG said
nothing.
Toopermann stepped back and said, "All we need now are the electrodes."
"Is this a lie detector?" asked SG nervously.
"Well, yes, in a way," said the dean. "It's not like those detectors the
police use, where a moving needle swings back and forth on a strip of paper. But
it gets the job done."
Regina opened a drawer and pulled out a tangle of cables. There were
two-prong plugs on one end of each of the cables and a spring-loaded clip on the
other end. She plugged two cables into a console on a table and handed the other
ends to Toopermann.
"This most definitely will hurt," said Toopermann, and before SG could
object, she clamped two of the clips on SG's nipples.
"Ouch!" cried SG.
"Don't be a sissy, girl," said Regina. "It will get much worse, and you
need to be strong."
Wires were clipped to her ear lobes and to her clitoris.
"Now, we'll find out when you're lying and when you're telling the
truth," said Toopermann. She turned a dial on the console, and SG's body jerked
suddenly. A wave of electricity had jolted her left breast. Another dial was
turned, and SG's head rattled inside the metallic dome. Her ear lobes felt
aflame. And so it went, electricity surging into her breasts, her head and her
most private and sensitive nether parts.
After a few minutes, the torture stopped.
"You're probably wondering," said Toopermann, "why we haven't asked you
any questions."
"And why you're wearing a metal helmet," added Regina.
Actually, SG wasn't wondering about either of these things. She was
wondering what had happened to her superhuman powers. Ever since she had first
encountered Louie, she had been getting weaker and weaker -- more and more like
just another human being. The dildo chair in the attic had hastened her decline.
And the gang rape in the locker room had left her as weak as a two-year-old.
Something was terribly wrong.
SG realized Toopermann was still talking. "The helmet produces
unbearable pain and can do irreversible damage. We use it only as a last resort.
In this case, it will be used only when we are convinced that you are lying and
need powerful persuasion to tell the truth."
She paused to let her remarks sink in.
"Here, then, are our questions: Who sent you here, to Marston?"
"My parents," SG said softly.
"Liar," snapped Toopermann, as she punched a button. SG's head seemed to
explode. Every sense was overwhelmed by a wave of destructive force that was
ripping her apart, molecule by molecule.
SG slumped in the chair. Regina removed the helmet.
"Is she alive?" Toopermann asked.
"Barely," said Regina. She cupped her hand under SG's chin and raised
her head.
"She's quite pretty, isn't she?"
"Yes. Quite," said Toopermann. "You can have what's left of her when
we're finished. Assuming we get all we need from her."
It took 15 minutes for SG to regain consciousness, during which Regina
fixed tea and heated up scones in the oven.
When SG opened her eyes, Toopermann was watching her with what appeared
to be sympathetic interest.
"I was afraid we'd lost you," she said.
"Please," SG whimpered, "please don't do that again."
"Oh, but we must," said Toopermann. "Unless you tell the truth."
"I'll tell you anything you want," SG sobbed.
"I thought so. Now, here's Regina with refreshments. None for you, I'm
afraid. But I think I'll take a short break. Regina, would you like to take
over?"
"Love to," said Regina. She fiddled with the console, and SG was once
again doing an electric jig.
"She's quite fetching when you stimulate her clitoris," said Regina.
Toopermann, munching a piece of scone, nodded in agreement. After a few
minutes, Toopermann brought the dishes to the kitchen and returned to work.
Regina pushed the helmet back down on SG's head, pressing its metal probes into
her scalp. Then she buckled the chin strap even tighter than before.
"Who sent you here?" Toopermann asked.
SG hesitated, but when Toopermann reached for the console she blurted
out, "Superman."
Toopermann gave her a hard glance. "Is that the truth?"
"I swear it is," SG said, desperate to avoid the agony of another burst
of power from the helmet.
"Why did he send you here?"
"To break up a drug ring."
Toopermann's face hardened. "Liar," she said, punching the button again.
SG's body stiffened. Her arms and legs and head burst free of their
restraints, and the chin strap snapped. She slid down and rolled onto the floor,
her body heaving spasmodically. Steam poured from her eyes, mouth and nostrils,
and there were scorch marks on her scalp.
Regina moved toward her, but Toopermann said sharply, "Don't touch her.
She's still full of juice."
They watched as SG's body continue to convulse in its grotesque dance.
Finally, after half an hour, Toopermann said, "Tie her wrists behind her. I'm
not sure she'll live through the night, but we can't take any chances. If she
recovers, we'll continue this tomorrow. I'm bushed."
After Toopermann left, Regina rolled SG onto her back. The spasms had
ended. She felt SG's throat. No pulse. It was all over.
Too bad, thought Regina. She rubbed her hand across SG's belly and slid
it between her legs. Then she kissed her long and passionately on the lips of
her mouth and the lips of her pussy.
Regina spent the night making love to SG's already cooling corpse. When
grey light finally appeared in the windows, she rose, exhausted but fulfilled,
and went to bed.
# # #
At seven o'clock Toopermann shuffled into the kitchen to fix herself a
cup of tea. She glanced into the interrogation room. SG lay peacefully on the
floor, her legs spread, a very large zucchini stuffed into her vagina.
Toopermann frowned. Regina really had to learn to quit wasting food.
She took a sip of tea, put down her cup and knelt beside the girl who
only a few hours ago had been boozing and fornicating, and who had paid for it
with torments generated by the most powerful instrument in the arsenal of truth
and justice.
Was she dead? Her body was cold, but if, in fact, Superman had sent her,
she might herself have superhuman powers. She pulled out the zucchini, and it
made a soft "pop." And SG's pelvis twitched.
Could she still be alive? At least her lower half was, thought
Toopermann.
Well, there was one way to find out.
She dragged SG back to the wooden chair and propped her up. Strapping
her in was difficult, but she didn't want to wake Regina. The poor dear had
probably been up all night with her new toy.
She lowered the helmet and buckled the chin strap.
"You're in for a wild ride," she whispered. Then she stood next to the
console and pressed a button she hadn't touched the night before.
At first, there was no reaction. Maybe the pelvic twitch had just been
an illusion or some post-mortem reaction, thought Toopermann. But SG's body
began to move. The fingers of her left hand trembled. Her back stiffened. Her
mouth opened and she gulped for air.
Soon she was breathing normally. Her deathly pallor had been replaced by
the warm glow of life. She began making sounds -- low moans and gurgles. And
suddenly she was smiling. No doubt about it, she was experiencing pleasure.
"Ah, she's come back," said Regina, who suddenly appeared at the door.
"Yes, reverse still works. We can kill her with excruciating pain and
revive her with inexpressible delight. In a few seconds, she'll begin having
orgasms. Then it will be time to continue our interrogation."
They spent the next few hours subjecting SG to pain and pleasure in
calibrated doses. Toopermann discovered she could endure more of both than any
other girl they had experimented on. She also discovered that SG was under the
illusion that she was Supergirl, that she was stronger than the strongest mortal
man, that she could fly, and all the rest of the silly super-being mythology.
"I don't doubt that Superman sent her," she told Regina. "But I see no
evidence that she herself has superhuman powers, beyond the power to absorb
pain."
During the interrogation, SG had told everything: about her mission to
discover an alleged drug ring, about discovering what was in the attic, about
her encounters with Louie and his friends, about her secret craving to be
humiliated and degraded.
"An interesting case," said Toopermann. "But we're not running a mental
health clinic here. She'll have to be sent back home, wherever that is."
"And the dope ring," said Regina. "Is there anything to that part of her
story?"
"In fact, there is. Several Lackanooka boys have been peddling marijuana
on campus and in town. I despise drugs, but it's a relatively small operation,
and I can't see why Superman would be interested in it."
She paused and frowned. "Then again, maybe there is an explanation. But
it would require a degree of callousness on the part of Superman that certainly
doesn't fit his image."
# # #
SG remained at Toopermann's house for over a month. Her roommate and her
classmates and teachers were told she had returned home for emotional reasons.
It hadn't yet been determined if she would return to Marston, but if she
did, it certainly wouldn't be this semester.
At the cottage, SG had become Regina's sex toy. When Toopermann was at
work, the big woman made SG wear a dog's collar and leash. When SG least
expected it, she would jerk the leash and send her tumbling to the floor. Then
she would pounce on her with surprising alacrity for someone so big and jam
something, usually a food item, into the girl's rectum or vagina.
When she went shopping, she would tie SG's wrists behind her, slip the
rope through her collar and tie it to a steel hook bolted into the ceiling of
the broom closet just off the kitchen.
It was while she was in the closet that a revelation came to SG. She saw
a bright cloud, and in the cloud was a female form more beautiful than any she
had ever seen.
A voice came from the cloud. "Be strong, Supergirl. Be strong in spirit,
and you will again be strong in body. Your weakness is your sexual craving, your
lust to be humiliated. You have indulged it to your peril. If you are to live,
if you are to have a life worth living, you must regain your dignity."
SG wept. She wanted to hear these words, yet she was afraid. Did she
have the strength of character to pull herself out of his slough of degradation?
She heard the back door open and close, and Regina's heavy footsteps in
the kitchen. Then there was the sound of packages being put on the pantry
shelves.
The refrigerator door opened and closed. Regina was putting away
groceries.
Then the steps approached the closet. SG took a deep breath.
The door opened and light flooded in, momentarily blinding SG.
"Hello, dearie," said Regina. "Had a nice rest?"
She unhooked the rope from the hook and slipped her thumb under SG's
collar.
"Come along, then," she said, dragging her out of the closet.
As soon as Regina untied her wrists, SG struck. She punched the older
woman in the belly, as hard as she could.
Regina gave her a look of rage and surprise, then crumpled to her knees.
"Party time's over, bitch," said SG. She grabbed a cantelope from the
kitchen table and slammed it into Regina's face.
SG pulled off the collar and threw it across the room.
She wasn't sure what she would do with her new freedom, but she knew
she'd need clothes and money. She found nearly $50 in Regina's purse. That was a
good start.
Clothes were more difficult. All the stuff in Toopermann's and Regina's
bedrooms was the wrong size -- and incredibly ugly. Finally, she found a grey
trench coat in a closet. She'd just wear that to cover her nakeness.
As she walked back into the kitchen, Regina jumped her from behind and
tried to plunge a carving knife into her belly. The blade cut through the trench
coat but not her skin.
"That hurt," she said angrily. She flipped Regina over her shoulder, and
the big woman landed with a resounding crash on the kitchen floor.
The good news was that, for all the damage that had been done to her
emotionally, her body remained as resilient as ever. Still, the jab of the knife
had hurt. Until a few weeks ago, she had never felt intense pain.
Or intense pleasure.
She opened the front door and looked around. A retired professor she had
seen around campus was walking his dog. He nodded to SG. She waved vaguely and
waited until he had passed.
Where should she go? She knew she wanted to expose Toopermann and Regina
for the sadists that they were, but that would almost surely involve blowing her
own cover.
She also wanted to get even with Louie and his friends.
An opportunity for that came much sooner than she had expected. As she
crossed the street that separated the cluster of faculty housing from the main
campus, a Chevy convertible raced past. There was a screeching of brakes, and
the car suddenly was in reverse. It stopped where she had just crossed.
Louie was driving. Three of his buddies were also in the car.
"Haven't seen you in a coon's age, Blondie," Louie called. He jumped out
of the car and walked over to her, rubbing his hands together with anticipation.
"Where you been keeping your lovely self?"
"Hi, Louie," SG said calmly.
His friends placed themselves around her, cutting off any possible
escape.
"You remember Tom, here, and Buddy and Jim?" said Louie. "They certainly
remember you. They helped fuck the hell out of you in the locker room."
"Yeah, I remember them," said SG. "But we're not in the locker room now.
You wouldn't think of trying to fuck me here."
"You're right about that," said Louie. "But I got this fine car here,
and we can take you someplace secluded. You know you want more of what we've
got." He grinned wickedly.
"Go fuck youself," SG said softly.
"What'd you say?" asked Louie, with a puzzled frown.
One of his friends grabbed SG's arm from behind. She broke free and
wheeled to face him. "Fuck off," she hissed.
Now Louie did the grabbling. He locked his big left forearm across her
throat, as he had in the malt shop, and he reached down with his right hand and
began roughly fondling her crotch.
"Hell, we'll warm you up and fuck you right here on your own campus,
bitch. Ain't nobody going to touch me, cuz I'm fucking untouchable."
SG breathed deeply. A wave of sexual desire had swept across her, a
desire to be raped and humiliated. She had to resist.
She reached down and took Louie's huge hand in both of hers.
"That's it, bitch, guide me in," he whispered.
Then his whisper turned into a scream of pain. SG had crushed his right
hand with a grip as powerful as an industrial vise.
Louie pulled away and fell to the ground, holding his right wrist in his
left hand and groaning in agony.
The others looked at him, startled and unsure what to do. Then one threw
a wild, angry punch at SG. She deflected it with her left hand and hit him in
the side with her right. He gasped and fell to his knees.
The other two jumped her and knocked her down. One sat on her chest and
tried to press her arms to the ground. Her legs were spread, and the other
kicked her hard in the crotch. The pain took her breath away.
That was the break they needed. In an instant, both were on their feet,
stomping her defenseless body. She curled up on her side to protect herself, but
that just exposed her kidneys to vicious kicks.
A crowd had gathered, and Marston girls and faculty members were
screaming at the men to stop -- to no avail.
One of the men leaned down and pulled SG's now naked body off the
ground. He held her while the other pounded her belly with his fists.
Louie had recovered enough to stagger over to them. His face was full of
pain and rage.
"You broke my hand, bitch," he croaked. He held up his hand, now swollen
and red. SG raised her head and tried to focus on him. She was seeing double,
and she felt dizzy and nauseous.
Then someone broke out of the crowd and lunged toward the men. It was
Estelle.
She had just arrived and had seen her friend absorbing a terrible
beating.
She tried to push Louie aside, but he grabbed her by the throat with his
left hand and kneed her in the groin. She moaned and sank to her knees. Then he
kicked her in the face, and she plunged face backward to the ground, blood
spurting from her mouth and nose.
SG struggled to free herself and help Estelle. But the man holding her
tightened his grip, and the other began pounding her with renewed fury. Her head
snapped back and forth from his punches. The crowd surged forward, and Marston
women began pulling at the men, holding their arms and clawing at their faces.
Finally, sirens overwhelmed the cacophony of the crowd, and the police
pushed in. A captain in charge took one look at the situation -- two women badly
beaten and a crowd of witnesses -- and decided that he and his men could no
longer protect Louie Ungtjur from the consequences of his thuggishness, uncles
or no uncles.
An ambulance arrived just as Louie and his friends were being
handcuffed. Louie begged them not to be careful of his injured hand, but the
captain took on the task personally and managed to be unusually rough. Louie
screamed, cursed and, to his enormous shame, wept.
The ambulance crew moved Estelle gently onto a stretcher. SG insisted on
walking, though she was wobbly and obviously dazed. The ambulance crew and many
in the crowd noticed something amazing: She hadn't shed a drop of blood, despite
the terrible beating she had endured.
(To be continued.)
