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Archive name: sari7.txt (m-teen/pre-f, ped, nc)
Authors name: Lor Oldmann (jamwad@hotmail.com)
Story title : Sari and the Expedition
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Sari and the Expedition (m-teen/pre-f, ped, nc)
by Lor Oldmann (jamwad@hotmail.com)
***
The second phase of the continuing Sari Saga written, not
in the autobiographical style of the previous stories,
but in third person reported form. It tells of the
English eleven year old girl's experiences with American
teen-age boys on an adventure project organised by the
United Nations
***
The Sari Saga: Second Phase
Sari and the Expedition
Everyone knew it was a mistake; right from the very start
it was a crazy idea, a clerical error, perhaps, or a
hiccup on the computer: that's always a good excuse.
However it happened, eleven year old Sari Kinnis from the
preparatory department of Elmshurst, one of the top half-
dozen educational establishments of upper class England
had become listed, albeit through a series of
unforeseeable circumstances, with seven teenaged boys
mainly from the lowest castes of New York, Dallas,
Detroit and Chicago.
The only qualification specifically stated in the
prospectus of the United Nations sponsored project was
that all the members of any one team spoke approximately
the same language. That was correct at least; the
similarity in language was approximate.
All the other teams involved in the project were composed
of sixteen boys, or entirely of girls, or eight of both
sexes from a similar socio-economic background. The mixed
sex teams, thirty of them, all except Sari's, were
supervised by an adequately qualified female and a
healthy, amply equipped male and were observed by an
approved United Nations evaluator.
Half of Sari's team of sixteen, for one reason or
another, had dropped out: seven girls between the ages of
twelve and nineteen, and one sickly boy of thirteen from
Denver whose parents had seconds thoughts about the
fitness of their precious son to survive such a hazardous
exploit. 'Half a team is better than none' people joked,
and rather than have anyone suffer the trauma of
disappointment, everyone pretended everything was fine -
despite the obvious flaw!
Everything about the set-up was incongruent from the
start. As suggested by the prospectus, the girl opted to
wear her standard school uniform for the exercise. It
comprised a grey skirt, eight centimetres shorter than
that of the senior school, almost as short as a
cheerleader's at an American ball game, a white cotton
blouse with four buttons and a tiny pocket on the breast
for a lace-edged handkerchief, a navy blue jacket with
gold trim, white stockings that came up to just below the
knee and a pair of black leather shoes that cost Cheri
Kinnis more than the combined clothing of all the boys in
her daughter's team. Under the skirt she wore an
extremely brief pair of panties with the school crest
printed on the front over her mons pubis and the motto
'in vita veritas' - there were several spare pairs in her
luggage. She did not wear a brassiere; there was little
to support.
The boys wore what clothes were available to them when
big brothers and neighbours got together to rig them out
for the expedition. The rules clearly stated that all
participants must wear clothing that would be acceptable
in what would be considered an ordinary dry, warm day's
activity for them. This was the whole point of the
exercise: they were to exist for a week under naturally
controlled conditions with the rudimentary essentials of
life; specialised clothing and equipment would be
provided, under penalty, if and where it was found to be
absolutely necessary.
Everything about the initiative was wrong and everyone
knew it, but no-one was prepared to admit that a mistake
had been made and fewer people were prepared to state the
obvious for reasons of political correctness. "After
all," everyone said, "Davis Carter will be with them, and
Davis Carter is an experienced teacher and a dependable
youth leader." Davis Carter was also the recognised
United Nations project assessor. But Davis Carter was
also human.
Massie Belmont, the United States co-ordinator for the
expedition, shrugged the whole affair off, because 'it is
too late to do anything about it now'. He said, "You'll
see, everything will work out for the best in the end.
They'll probably win the goddam trophy!"
No-one believed a word of it. But all hoped that the rich
rewards of a visit to Disneyland and a tour of the great
sights of the United States, including the Grand Canyon
and Yellowstone Park, and a lawn party at the White House
would keep the contestants in order and well away from
doing anything wildly rash or irresponsible. In other
words, they considered the perks provided by an opulent
society adequate insurance for Sari's maidenhood.
The introductory lecture over, Davis Carter eyed the girl
as she climbed into the back of the transit miniature bus
that was to take them into the wilderness. He was quite
convinced she would be raped long before she returned to
her Middleton home in England. Five of the boys eyed her
as her skirt rode up to her backside when she climbed
into the transit van; they knew for a fact that she would
be raped, probably on the first night, if not sooner, if
they had anything to do with it. Sari glanced back.
She was not terribly sure what rape really was in fine
detail, but the looks on the faces of the people still on
the launching pad gave her a hunch that there was a very
strong possibility she would learn before she was much
older. She was aware of a strange stirring deep down
inside her and of a peculiar warmth; the feelings she had
almost perpetually when she was with Lor Oldmann. She
quite liked the sensations - at least when it was Lor who
caused them; she quite enjoyed it when Hector Lansbright,
the tennis coach, slipped a hand up her dress to rub
where only Lor had been before him. She was not quite
sure that she was all that enamoured by the same
sensation when it had been generated by the Simon Pratt
affair. She reserved judgement on the present situation.
"I'm gonna shaft the butt off that!" declared Yett
Grossland, the sixteen year old from the Bronx. He wiped
the saliva from his drooling mouth. "Yeah! First chance
I'm gonna screw that!"
"You're gonna take your place in the line, man!"
exclaimed nineteen year old Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis,
a black boy from the worst slums of Harlem. He ran a
tongue over his lips.
"We'll toss for it." Fifteen-year-old Shalem Hoser
laughed.
"Jerk yourselves dead," snarled Louis. "That little
cherry is mine. You can do what you want with her after I
have it."
Sari Kinnis was a spectacularly pretty little girl with
sensuous, slightly Polynesian features, a mouth that was
shaped for French kissing, outstandingly attractive eyes
and fabulously tapering legs that ended with delft-like
ankles. Her breasts were only beginning to show the first
definite designs on development, and her hips and
buttocks had already lost the puppy-fat-shapelessness of
the preteen schoolgirl. Since her mild bout of chorea,
she had acquired a slight tic, a trifling shifting of her
shoulders when she was excited, or frightened or,
especially when she was with Lor, when she was sexually
aroused.
Davis Carter knew he would have trouble. The bus had only
a seat for the driver in front; the remaining space was
for luggage and equipment. The accommodation inside the
rear of the vehicle comprised cushioned seats bolted
directly to the floor without legs. Consequently, Sari
Kinnis, like all the others, had to sit with her knees up
above her backside. Carter had placed her in the space
nearest and opposite him so the he could get a decent
view through one of the side mirrors.
An even better view was provided for the four boys who
sat behind the driver and for the boy sitting immediately
next to her. The remaining two boys were not interested
in girls, and were determined to keep themselves to
themselves throughout the exercise. The other boys had
already labelled them Tom and Jerry. Sari was aware of
the centre of interest, indeed she rather enjoyed being
the focus of attraction.
At first she tried to keep her knees together and her
skirt wrapped as tightly as possible around her thighs.
But in a short time, the effort was too much; she relaxed
her position, let the skirt hang loose and ultimately
widened the gap between her thighs. There were groans of
appreciation. Davis Carter looked in his mirror to see
the cause of the noise, and felt a definite enlivening of
his animal senses. There was promise, he decided, in
those thighs and that smoothly rounded butt!
They travelled in comparative silence for the first
hundred and fifty miles, except for Tom and Jerry who hit
it off instantly and chattered quietly and constantly and
held hands. The first stop was to let the boys relieve
themselves by the wayside. Sari did not need to respond
to any such call of nature, so they drove for another two
hours.
Conversation was still subdued. They had been introduced
at the outset, but none of the boys, with the exception
of the Tom and Jerry, each of whom now knew the other's
name as well as his own, could put a face to a name -
except for Sari! They all knew Sari! It was an easy name
to remember. And Sari Kinnis could identify each boy. It
was Sari who initiated the talk.
She pointed a finger at Shalem Hoser and declared, "My
father once had an office in Dallas." The fifteen year
old boy beamed with pleasure at being the first to be
addressed by the pretty English girl; it seemed to give
him some priority to her affections. "He lived there for
about three years." She looked towards Louis and
Grossland, sitting opposite her, and remarked, "He also
lived in New York for a while, on and off, when he was
studying for his doctorate at MIT." She frowned in deep
thought.
"In Queens, I think it was. He said he loved New York."
She laughed at the memory. "He said he was once mugged by
a dozen little schoolkids!" She flirted her eyes from a
drooling Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis to Yett Grossland
and giggled. "I don't know whether they were black or
white! But they were all about twelve year old, and half
of them were girls!"
"Is he dead?" It was seventeen year old Brett Stack, a
pimpled youth from Chicago, who asked the question.
Sari's frown deepened. "Departed," she replied, "but not
dead!" But it dealt a death blow to the chatter.
The group broke up for their first meal at a wayside
diner approved by the people who organised the trip.
Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis and Yett Grossland
commandeered Sari. They assumed complete charge of her
needs. They found the most secluded area in the garden of
the diner; it was a bower deliberately designed to
preserve its occupants (mostly business executives and
their 'secretaries') from prying eyes.
Grossland disappeared for several minutes and returned
with a menu, but, apart from the various 'burgers', it
could have been written in a language the girl did not
understand, so the boys decided to order for her. And
from that point on, it was accepted by the others in the
pecking order that Sari was the exclusive property of
these two boys, until they were invited to join the
party.
When they rejoined the bus, Louis had the girl slung over
his shoulder, her feet were bound together with a leather
belt, her hands secured behind her back with a necktie.
Her short skirt had ridden up and Yett Grossland was
playfully spanking. All three were laughing, as if it
were a great joke. But the two New Yorkers were in deadly
earnest despite the laughter, and Sari was calculating
her chances of being let off with a couple of joggles
during the long nights. Somehow, from what she had heard
about American boys from the senior girls at school, and
from the tentative wanderings of Louis's hand, she
reckoned the chances were slender at best. Davis Carter
frowned as he started the engine, but he failed to notice
that Sari no longer occupied the seat nearest and
opposite him.
They had not untied the girl, but the conversation took
an upturn; they all got to know each other better. Sari
was now sitting between the two New Yorkers. Tom and
Jerry had been displaced and sat opposite each other; Tom
who previously had been immaculate in his dress now
appeared positively dishevelled and without his school
necktie.
"What's this then?" Louis traced the outline of the
embroidered emblem on Sari's school jacket. He pretended
to read the golden words. It had to be a pretence; the
boy was illiterate. He decided, "It's a badge." The
observation amused the others. They laughed. He scowled.
"It's Latin," explained Sari "In Vita Veritas." She
suddenly felt sorry for the black boy in his
embarrassment. "It means that there is truth in living!
It is a quotation from a famous author!"
"I'll drink to that!" exclaimed Jefferson, brightening
again.
"Here's to living!" exclaimed the boy from the Bronx
pretending to lift a glass to his lips.
"Lechiam!" exclaimed Shalem Hoser.
Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis looked round to make sure
that he was not being observed by Davis Carter, then
undid the buttons of the jacket of Sari's school uniform.
He slipped a hand under the garment to fondle the tiny
breasts; he was unrivalled in this activity. The girl
drew in her breath sharply and felt the tingling shivers
run along her spine to her most secret places. There was
a definite spasmodic jerking of her shoulder.
"A man could kill for a tit like this is going to be,"
whispered Louis confidentially to the others. He kneaded
the small pliable mound, then shifted his eyes from his
hand to her face. He winked jokingly. "No brassiere?"
Sari could scarcely speak. She shook her head. "No!" It
was but a breath in the stifling air of the bus. Even the
two gay boys were watching her. She swallowed. "Why? Are
you objecting?" She made a tremendous effort to sound
casual. She thought of Lor Oldmann. She thought of the
damage he had inflicted on the Winnings.
"Not is the least," grunted Jefferson Joe Louis. He
studiously undid a couple of the buttons on her blouse
and slipped his hand inside. He played with the bare
breasts and flicked a tiny rosebud nipple with his thumb
until he felt it hardening. He rolled it between a
forefinger and thumb and the tingling shivers became
waves of electric shock. He nibbled her ear. "I'll bet
you have no panties either!" The suggestion was
ludicrous. The boys were already witness to what she was
wearing.
Sari fell for it. She simulated outrage. "I have too!"
There was a tightness in her chest. The jerking in her
shoulder became more pronounced.
"Let's see," said Louis. He pulled the miniskirt further
up her thighs to expose her crutch. There was another
sharp intake of breath. Louis leaned over to examine the
emblem printed on the fabric. "That's the life and truth
thing again. Isn't it?" Sari nodded. He traced the design
over her pubis with the tip of his finger. Her breathing
was laboured. Grossland pulled one knee aside, Louis the
other. The tracing finger crept lower and the girl
started to wriggle in her bonds. The black boy pressed
his finger against the cleft of her vulva and rubbed. A
dark spot appeared on the otherwise spotless fabric. He
grinned in satisfaction. He wriggled a finger under the
flimsy fabric to explore the fattening lips of her cunt.
Sari wriggled and yelped her protest. The skirt was
brushed down.
"We'll investigate that possibility later," Jefferson
said. The voice was hard. The light in his eyes was
intense, almost insane. "I've never had an English girl
before!" He pulled her face round to him and kissed her
on the mouth. His tongue filled her maw until Sari was
convinced that she would asphyxiate. He searched for and
found her tiny breast again. His fondling was more
demanding. She kicked with her bound feet and attempted
to squirm free from the necktie around her wrists. "I'm
going to enjoy having you!" he exclaimed. "I like fight
in a female!"
Carter's interruption was timely. The vehicle had taken a
sharp swerve off the surfaced road and bumped and bucked
its way for fifteen minutes before turning into the
compound of what looked like the ruins of an old frontier
outpost. Around it and beyond, as far as it was possible
to see, was wilderness, almost desert.
"This is where the real stuff starts," announced the man
as he threw open the rear door. The boys laughed, but
Carter did not understand the joke, consequently failed
to appreciate it. He scowled.
The necktie had been returned to its owner. The belt had
been removed from around Sari's ankles. Her clothing had
been buttoned and smoothed down. The boys made a show of
stretching as they vacated the bus and the recent result
of their sexual stimulation was obvious. The luggage
compartment was emptied and distributed. What remained
was equipment.
"You all right?" Davis Carter demanded of Sari. He had
noticed the bulges in the front of the boys' pants. When
she nodded, he said, "Any problems, let me know!" He
declared generally, "First, you set up your sleeping
quarters for the night." He afforded the New Yorkers his
darkest look. "The tents are there!" He indicated the
bundles now lying on the ground beside the empty luggage
compartment.
"They are all identical, so it makes no difference which
one you choose to erect. Three of you can share a tent.
The others can go in pairs." He smiled at Tom and Jerry.
"Sari gets a tent to herself. And its up to you how you
do it; you can work on the tent you intend sleeping in,
or you can help put up all the tents in turn."
He gave a cold cynical laugh. "Sorry, but I'm not allowed
to help. And I sleep in the bus." He pointed to the only
roofed building in the circle. "The worst coming to the
worst, you can shack down in there, but you won't win any
points if you do!"
Sari Kinnis had been erecting tents since infancy. She
eyed the tightly packed bundles. "Overlanders!" she
exclaimed with enthusiasm. She recognised the familiar
cloud and pine tree trademark on the canvas. "These are
spitting easy to assemble." She selected one and carried
it to the secluded part of the clearing indicated by
Davis Carter.
By the time she had her tent erected, within fifteen
minutes, and her luggage arranged, the boys still stood
around hopelessly confused. Bits and pieces lay in chaos,
parts of one tent mixed in with the bits of others. They
squabbled among themselves. One of the boys, Tom (or
Jerry) was in tears.
Sari took charge. "You and you!" She pointed to the sex-
crazed New Yorkers. "Set two poles in here!" She pointed
to a spot farthest removed from her own tent. Carter
smiled approvingly. She placed other tents appropriately,
then organised the boys' efforts. With difficulty, within
the hour, all seven boys were accommodated. They
pretended that it was mostly by their own efforts and
strutted with pride around their tents. Carter's smile
broadened.
When it came to preparing a meal, the boys were every bit
as much at a loss; they had no idea where and how to
begin; they could not even get a fire started. They
grumbled about the organisation of the expedition and
complained that Davis Carter was no real help. What wood
they could find was damp and how did one light a fire
anyway without kerosene and matches? One boy suggested
siphoning fuel from the tank of their bus.
"Gasoline is explosive," explained Sari. "Cavemen lit
fires without matches or fire-lighters and with damp
wood." She laughed happily now that she knew she was
incontestably in total control of the situation. There
was a budding sense of maternal power bursting into full
bloom inside her. "Do you want me to do it for you -
light your fires and cook your supper?" She deliberately
exaggerated her words and let her gaze flit to each boy
in turn, and each in turn nodded assent. She giggled.
"You are a proper little wife," muttered Grossland. There
was a pronouncedly sour note in the voice. He exchanged
glances with Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis and Bret Stack.
The three of them had become close in the past hour. They
had agreed to share a tent. "You'll make some guys very
happy one day!" The boys sniggered.
"Or some night!" offered Stack.
"Maybe even tonight," growled the black boy under his
breath. "And maybe for a few guys!"
Dusk lingers during the prairie Summer. It was a
completely new experience for the boys and they were
reluctant to end it. Sari had made a campfire in the way
her parents made one on safari. She told them stories
about the places she had seen. She had been born on a
South Pacific island, she told them, but could remember
nothing about the place. She had travelled in Africa,
Asia and Australia. She spoke about her skiing holidays
in Bronstadt and swimming in the Mediterranean. She told
them the stories Lor's grandfather had told her, but left
out the bits about the hostages being tied to the masts
of the Viking ships and whipped. She wondered about that,
for those were her favourite bits.
The prairie moon appears like a thief in the night sky.
It creeps up, and suddenly seems to explode its sinister
brilliance on an unsuspecting world; it becomes so bright
it can frighten the most hardened city-dweller, who
associates it with ghostly apparitions, werewolves and
vampires. Davis Carter waited to see the team bedded,
especially Sari in her isolated corner, then he retreated
to his sleeping bag in the miniature bus. He made a note
of the fact that Sari had insisted on dousing the fire
and covering the embers with earth. He had to admit it:
Sari, and consequently the team, had made full points on
his reckoning.
Sari was asleep when the three boys crossed the clearing.
Much more than the moon, they went as thieves in the
night fully intent on robbing a female child of her most
precious possession. They had listened for Carter's heavy
breathing and snoring inside the vehicle. They made sure
that the four other members of their team were asleep.
They had acquired a flashlight, in the way that they had
earlier acquired a necktie, and from the same victim.
They forged a way with difficulty, despite the moonlight,
over the ropes and pegs of the tents until they stood in
momentary indecision in front of the girl's tent-flap,
then pulled the fastener down silently and slowly. They
heard what they took to be her regular breathing and made
a final check: ropes, gag, jelly, rubbers.
Jefferson Joe Louis pulled the flaps aside, Grossland
shone the torch and the three together gazed into the
sleeping child's tent.
.straight into the flat savage face of a five hundred
pound puma. Its eyes, green and silver, reflected the
torchlight. It lay alongside Sari's sleeping bag. The
girl, bare shoulders and the upper part of her naked
chest exposed, had a hand on its rump. The animal rumbled
its warning at the boys' intrusion, and bared its teeth,
then snarled. The three boys numbed with terror; they had
never before seen a real life mountain lion. They wet
themselves in fright. Then regained some of their senses,
backed away gingerly for twenty paces, swung round and
fled silently in fear for their lives. The flaps of the
girl's tent, front and rear, shifted slightly and
silently in the prairie breeze. The beast settled its
powerful head against the sleeping bag and rumbled its
deep-throated contentment. And Sari dreamed of being
alone in the wilderness with Lor.
In the morning, the boys regarded Sari with the intensity
of superstitious awe peculiar to modern, computer-
oriented kids. To them any phenomenon that did not
originate in a digital program was 'spooky' and was to be
left alone. They played games with images of lawless men
and wild beasts and fabulous monsters, but the
confrontation was legit only on the screen of a monitor;
direct contact with raw nature, even at the city zoo, was
for geeks. News of the cougar in the night had permeated
the camp and crazy theories were being proposed as a
possible explanation.
"It was no hallucination, man!" protested Grossland
angrily to Tom and Jerry. "We didn't have no stuff like
that! It was for real, man! It was as close as you two
are!" He pushed the two from him. "Too close!"
"And big! Too big!" the black nineteen year old assured
the company. "It filled the tent, I can tell you!"
Shalem Hoser smiled indulgently - he was familiar with
this kind of overstatement; his father had recently
exaggerated his love for his underage daughters by
keeping them safe from ghosts and intruders and things
(other than himself) that go bump in the night in bed at
home and was now spending some time in prison. Tom and
Jerry lifted their eyes to heaven. Louis pouted. He
threatened to smash their faces to pulp for their
disbelief.
Bret Stack attempted to mediate. "I'd like to have seen
any of you guys handle it. It was real wild like! Like
you see in the movies!" His tremor was no simulation.
"Only this was no movie!"
The conversation died as Sari Kinnis, looking immaculate,
emerged from her tent. She had already been up and washed
at first light to avoid any possible embarrassment to the
others. The New Yorkers and the boy from Chicago had
expected her to be bloody or dishevelled, frightened shit
scared at the very least. There was a definite, fearful
drawing back as she approached the group. Carter was
shaving at a safari table set up under a tree; he watched
from a distance, and grinned at the reflected
consternation in the group.
"Yeah!" Tom remarked cynically to Jerry. "Looks like
she's been savaged by wild beasts!" Both boys sniggered.
It broke the spell.
"Waiting for breakfast?" enquired Sari. She smiled.
"They say there was an animal in your tent last night,"
said Hoser. He pointed at Louis, Stack and Yett
Grossland.
Sari was puzzled. "Was there?" She let her gaze flit from
boy to boy. "They say, do they? And how would they know?"
Davis Carter approached with his shaving kit wrapped in a
towel. "You all right?" He directed the question again at
Sari. The girl nodded. The group of boys made to split
up. "Wait!" he called out. "Before you get today's
assignment, I want you to appoint a leader." He looked
amused. "One who can count the fingers on one hand!
Preferably!" He laughed.
The first assignment of the day was to map out the area
around their camping site. "Twelve miles diameter should
suffice," Davis Carter had suggested when he met them
again after a breakfast prepared by the girl. "Tomorrow
we can go farther afield!" He also suggested that they
split into pairs and take the four principal compass
points as their starting point. They could co-ordinate
their sketches when they returned to base. "I can say no
more!" He retreated to the coffee pot. "But I think you
guys should get real!" They had appointed Jefferson
Jackson Joe Louis as their leader. He laughed again.
"Louis! Jesusssss Chrissstmassss!" He left the boy from
Harlem to select the pairings. "Bloody political
correctness!" He howled.
There was no way the sarcasm could have been missed. "Now
that is a surprise!" exclaimed the boy from Chicago. Tom
and Jerry would go north, simply because they refused to
be split up, and no-one else wanted to go with either
anyway. Grossland and Stack would go east and the
remaining two boys would go south. Carter frowned when he
was told about it. He had misgivings about the eleven
year old girl and the nineteen year old Louis being out
on their own for most of the day. He shrugged. Apart from
either Tom or Jerry, he could not have trusted any of
them alone with the girl. So why pick on Louis? Was it
because he was black?
"How far do you think we've walked?" Louis looked back.
The camp was out of sight. The terrain had been rough,
and the boy was unused with walking on anything but paved
sidewalks. The barrenness of the country gave him a sense
of unease; at the same time, the loneliness of the place
and the company of a beautiful young girl excited him.
Sari smiled softly. "About two kilometres." She corrected
herself. "Miles! About two miles." They still spoke of
miles in America.
The boy gasped. "Christ! And we've twelve to go?"
"Only another four." Sari corrected him this time. "Mr.
Carter talked about a diameter of twelve miles. That is,
twelve miles across. We only have to do half of that. A
radius of six miles!"
"I was good at drawing," boasted Louis quite
irrelevantly. He looked around as if to convince himself
that they were finally on their own and out of sight of
the base camp.
Sari attempted to establish a logical connection between
distances and the boy's artistic talents. She could find
none. She decided to let it pass. They walked on until
she judged they were more than half the distance to their
goal - a saucer-shaped outcrop among the foothills of
Colorado. Her companion let out his breath in a hiss of
resignation and relief when she suggested that they could
stop.
"Drawing was the only thing I was any good at." He sat on
a rock, and opened the buttons of his shirt. "I reckon
I'm not very smart!" He fanned himself with a
handkerchief that had been cleaner in its better days.
"Never made much of school past fourth grade. Never went
much to school, to be honest!" He visibly shook himself.
He pointed at the girl, now seated on the ground at a
safe distance. "Now, you!" He growled the words. "You
have it all laid out on a plate for you!" Sari sensed a
dangerous hostility. "You only have to lap it up. Your
folks are rich. And you're smart." He rose aggressively.
Sari also stood. "And you're good looking." He moved
towards her. "You are a beautiful little bit of..."
"I'm also fast," interrupted Sari. "I can outrun you a
billion to one." She moved farther from the boy. "I could
be back at the bus and on the phone to the authorities
before you caught your second wind." She laughed gaily.
But she was not entirely confident of her gut feeling
that the boy would not dare seriously assault her.
Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis grinned. "All I want is to be
nice and friendly to you."
"You wanted to have sex with me," replied Sari. "That's
what all that pussy cat business was about last night,
wasn't it?" She sniggered. "And those condom things and
that tube of lubricant, not to mention the rope you
dropped outside my tent."
The reference appeared to have a sobering effect on the
boy. His face clouded. "That was no pussy cat, last
night!" He turned away. "Let's move. Let's get this
drawing thing done and get back." He moved off; Sari
followed a few paces behind. He looked back. "Come on,"
he urged. "I won't fuck you today. I promise!" There was
a hungry glint in his eye and an evil smile played on his
lips.
When she was alongside him, he laid an arm across her
shoulder. "We are in this thing together. We gotta be
friends! Right?" Sari did not reply. "I really do want to
be nice to you," he insisted.
She remained silent. But there was a strange stirring in
her groins. And her shoulder jerked. In spite of
everything, including her better judgement, she really
liked the big boy. The intense isolation of the place and
the closeness of the big boy were having their effects on
her. She admitted to herself: he was really quite
handsome.
Two hours later Sari examined the boy's drawings. There
was no denying the fact that they were artistic in a
childish way. But what were they intended to represent?
Jefferson Jackson Joe Louis waited expectantly. The girl
pursed her lips. A feeling of excruciating pity for the
boy welled up inside her as she gazed at his wide
ingenuous eyes. The disturbances inside her were also
becoming much more intense and demanding.
"Well? What do you think?"
"What are these lines here?" Sari indicated the perfectly
executed wave forms. "There is no water out there!"
"Birds!" Jefferson Joe Louis beamed, and the child's
heart melted. "There was lots of birds where I was!"
"Oh, Lor!" thought Sari. "How do I tell him?"
She thought about something her father had said when they
were going walkabout in north-west Australia. "Your life
may depend, one day, on being able to read a map properly
and being able to give an accurate description of where
you are at any given time." He had taught her to look for
the salient features in a landscape and to ignore what
was of little consequence and what was likely to change
within a very short passage of time. Louis, she guessed,
had not been out of Harlem before.
"Let's have some lunch!" she said brightly. Again, she
felt really sorry for the big coloured boy.
"This is the life!"
After their lunch Louis stretched. It had not been the
standard hot dog or beefburger and French fries, but it
had sufficed. He eyed the girl and again gave inner
acquiescence to the fact that she was as beautiful a kid
as he had ever seen, and several times sexier looking
than most of the girls of her age he had come across. He
licked his lips; it was his equivalent of Sari's shoulder
jerks.
"You got a boyfriend?" he asked. When she nodded, he
said, "He can't think much of you to let you loose on
planet earth. If you was mine." He left the sentence
unfinished.
Sari was wary. She sensed the tenseness in his powerful
frame. She suspected boiling emotions similar to those
inside herself. She made to rise. Suddenly, Louis twisted
round and sprang. The litheness of his movement had taken
her by surprise. He pressed her back to the ground. He
rolled on top of her and laughed. He began systematically
to feel her breasts and grope between her legs. She
squirmed in his groping grasp and tried to avert her face
when he made to kiss her. He held her wrists behind her
in one of his huge hands. He took her by the throat and
forced his tongue between her lips.
"Jefferson, you promised," she gasped as soon as she had
breath enough. She was aware of her shoulder jerking
frenetically. She was also more painfully aware of the
frothing turbulence in the region of her stomach and a
decided wetness on her panties. The disturbance made her
feel sick and elated at one and the same time.
"Promises were made to be broke!"
The absurdity of the situation struck Sari; she wanted to
correct his grammar. Louis had already been inside her
blouse to maul her small breasts and was now under her
skirt pulling at the waist elastic of her panties.
"Please, Jefferson! Don't do it! It is ten to twelve
years in prison for the rape of a minor in this state."
Sari had read somewhere that such a penalty had been
imposed on an escaped convict for the rape of a
schoolchild; she could not recall the exact details - she
believed it had been a homosexual assault in Kansas. But
any defence in her present predicament was justified, she
felt. It seemed to work - for a minute or two.
The boy eyed his prey. "Ten to twelve?" he echoed, then
decided. "It would be worth it!" He hauled again at her
panties and succeeded in getting them half-way down her
kicking legs. He pushed her back into his crooked arm and
stared into her eyes. "Shit, Sari, you would be worth
getting life for!"
It was the oddest thing; the way he spoke her name, for
the first time, excited her; there was an intimacy about
it. She also felt flattered. That someone wanted her so
much that he would spend a fair slice of his life in
prison, was a new and quite bewildering experience. But
she suspected the claim was rhetorical. She wriggled
vigorously in his grasp and managed to kick him a couple
of times. He thrust a huge fist under her nose and swore
viciously.
"Lie still, you fucking little bitch! Or I'll smash your
fucking face!" The anger in his voice was real and it
scared her. "You're going to get what's coming to you
whatever happens," he snarled. "You've been begging for
cock! So lie back and let yourself enjoy it! All eight
inches of it!"
In a final attempt to defend her virginity, Sari said,
"Jefferson, let me joggle you instead!"
The boy stared at her. "Joggle?"
At least it had halted the savage assaults. The waistband
of her knickers had already been snapped. He played with
the garment as it clung loosely around her knees. He
repeated the word as a question demanding an answer. Sari
explained, and Jerry Joe Louis laughed and fell back but
retained his fast grip on her.
"Right, baby! Joggle will do for starters. Let's JOGGLE!"
And he laughed heartily. "But you take it out! And watch
out for that zip; the teeth are razor sharp." His
laughter increased in volume. "Joggle!" He guided her
hand to his flies. He rubbed himself with her hand.
"Let's get joggling!"
She had no way of measuring it, but Sari was totally
freaked out at the size of the thing she held in her
hand; she guessed it must have been twenty centimetres
long, and correspondingly thick. Despite its hardness it
felt oily or slimy. She could feel the vein throbbing
along its full length. The thought of it being thrust
into an aperture in her body so tight that it could
scarcely accommodate her little finger terrified her. The
massive purple and black glans seemed inflated and looked
for all the world like some grotesque lollipop or
toadstool. She wondered what it would feel like to take
it into her mouth.
He held her in the crook of his arm. He caressed her
face, fondled and squeezed her breasts until it hurt, and
rubbed between her legs as she masturbated him.
He crooned, "Oh, baby! You have a touch like velvet!" He
kissed her face.
His body lifted and fell and squirmed insanely, and he
ejaculated in an explosion of writhing and wrenching
while retaining his close hold on the girl. He pulled the
torn panties from her legs and wiped himself, then
stuffed the flimsy strip of material into his pocket.
There was look of sheer wonder on his face as he stared
at the girl. Then kissed her with a violence that
rekindled her fear and desire.
"Did you screw her?"
Sari caught the words as she made for her tent
immediately on their return. She also noted the boys'
laughter when Louis replied, "What do you think?" and
produced the torn panties from his pocket. The drift of
the conversation around their tents was obvious. The
laughter intensified as the word 'joggle' was repeated
several times. Tears formed in her eyes. She felt
cheated, betrayed and disgraced. She looked towards the
transit bus. Davis Carter, however, was not in evidence.
Tom and Jerry appeared at her tent later in the
afternoon. They were genuinely sad.
"I hope you don't get the impression that all American
boys come from the same mould as that animal."
"We really are sorry for what happened."
"If you want we'll sleep in your tent with you."
"At least we can make a noise. I don't suppose we'll put
up much of a fight against five of them!"
"That's kind of you, Philip," answered Sari, "but it
won't be necessary."
The boy was happily surprised. "You know my real name!"
he gazed at his companion. "I know the others call us Tom
and Jerry. Henry and I don't mind. We've been taking that
kind of shit for most of our lives. Louis has already
beaten me up and has threatened Henry a couple of times.
But you are a guest in this country and deserve
traditional American respect and hospitality."
"It is really all right!" insisted Sari. "I'll be fine!"
"These guys," said Henry, pointing to the other tents,
"are planning on paying you a visit tonight."
"And Louis is planning to rape you again!"
"Again?" Sari was angry. "There won't be an again, I can
assure you. There wasn't a first time, believe me." She
gave them a brief account of her masturbation of the boy.
"And I did it because he threatened to punch my face to a
bleeding mess."
"He said you had given him a hand job," admitted Philip.
"But he also said you had given him a blow job and that
he had raped you twice - front and back," added Henry.
"That's how he got your panties.."
"And tonight they are planning to gang-bang you!"
"I take it," declared Sari when she re-emerged refreshed
and re-dressed to join the other boys, "that you people
are not the least bit hungry." Tom and Jerry lingered in
the background.
The sniggers died, the smirks vanished as Sari took her
own supplies, spoke briefly with Davis Carter, and
returned to her tent.
Carter examined the maps. He shook his head in disdain.
Of the eight, only Sari's map made sense. The others
showed roads, railways and rivers where none could
possibly have existed. The road was missing in the one
sketch where it ought to have been. One had a coastline
with rolling waves and a lighthouse and a ship in
distress. Tom and Jerry had colluded to produce identical
maps, but these were completely featureless apart from a
large X to indicate where they had been standing, some
trees and arrows to indicate directions.
He emitted a soft sigh as he transmitted the efforts over
the videophone and was not surprised when he received in
return a grading only for Sari's sketch of the westlands.
The rest of the team, Carter concluded, were clueless to
the point of being a positive danger to themselves if
left alone.
Their attempts to make a meal for themselves were
miserable. The fire resolutely refused to behave, what
food they managed to prepare was virtually raw, utterly
devoid of nutritional value or taste, or burnt to a
cinder, and Stack and Louis came to blows over the
rations and had to be separated by Carter and threatened
with ejection from the expedition.
"That will be fine by me!" exclaimed the boy from the
Windy City. "It's all been a fucking waste of time
anyway."
"And by me," declared the black boy from New York.
Davis Carter smiled at his success in getting the two to
agree on something.
Breakfast was little better. Sari had slept in the bus
with the doors locked while Carter occupied her tent. She
was awake, washed and had eaten by first light, and
listening to music on the radio by the time the boys
appeared. After several unsuccessful attempts at making
coffee, they gave up and Carter took control of their
efforts. He made a meal for them because, he decided,
otherwise they would starve, and he was responsible for
their survival. He concluded that something unsavoury had
taken place between the girl and the black boy.
He had made a couple of approaches, but was rewarded with
neither information nor complaint from either. Then, as
he had anticipated, there was a coup d'etat. It came late
in the afternoon after another fruitless day of
frustrating mayhem.
Louis produced a string of invective. "If you think you
can do any better, you do it!"
"Tom and Jerry could do better," declared the seventeen
year old from Chicago. "And I don't mean these two
ponsers!" He pointed to the gay boys. The others laughed.
Louis fumed, but he had found his match in Stack in their
previous confrontation. "I vote we let the little tit
take over as leader!" And the others applauded.
"And what if the little tit has had enough of you
clowns?" demanded Sari. "And doesn't want anything to do
with you?"
"Please!" It was Grossland, Stack and Hoser who made the
appeal. "Please," they repeated. "We'll do anything you
ask!"
"Anything?"
"Please!" echoed Tom and Jerry.
"Please," begged Davis Carter. "For the sake of my
sanity!"
By the fifth day of the expedition some semblance of
respectability had been restored to the scores attained
by the depleted team. The entire group had redrawn the
maps of their territory under the guidance of the eleven
year old girl. They had succeeded in solving the riddles
in the treasure hunts and had completed the half dozen
tasks set by the organizers.
The penultimate day involved the use of some fairly
elementary pieces of equipment to measure temperature,
relative humidity, wind speed and direction, and air
pressure. They had also to collect samples of soil,
water, rock and air. Sari had been doing these exercises
from her first days in preparatory school. There was
safety in numbers, she had decided. Consequently, the
tasks were performed by the entire team rather than by
individuals or pairs as they had been on the first two
days.
"We can put some soil in a little box," suggested one of
the boys sagely, "and some water in a bottle, and pick up
a bit of rock. But how the hell do you take a sample of
the air?" When Sari explained about atmospheric
displacement and told him to take the lid off and shake a
jar about for half a minute, he stared, his disbelief
aggressively apparent, and demanded, "Are you trying to
make a monkey out of me?" And the other boys laughed.
Sari had no way of knowing how it happened, but suddenly
in mid-afternoon she found herself in the company of the
two New Yorkers, the boy from Chicago and Shalem Hoser.
The other three boys, she suspected, had been threatened
with violence if they followed. The girl and the boys had
wandered into a shallow gulch. The passage had become
extremely narrow and rough.
She surveyed the scene and decided. "We'll make for that
plateau." She pointed to an accessible slope leading to
the top of the escarpment. "We can take our bearings from
there."
The boys allowed her to lead for a quarter of the
distance. She had left her school jacket behind in the
bus. There were traces of perspiration on the underarms
of her white blouse and along her spine. Her skirt
seemed, if anything, shorter than it had been on their
previous viewing of it. The immaculate legs were seen to
fullest advantage from below on the climb. And the
spotless panties appeared as a flash of whiteness in the
bright sunlight.
When they reached the first plateau, a shelf with a deep
indentation in the solid rock, Bret Stack caught up with
her, held her by the arms and pinned her against the rock
face.
"This is as far as you go, baby," he growled. "We have
needs that have to be met, and you are all that's
available at this point in time, so I reckon we'll have
to make do." Sari struggled and kicked, but he kept a
firm hold on her. He inclined his head to the others.
"What do you think, guys? Will she do?"
"I reckon!" replied Grossland. Hoser and Louis laughed.
Sari was forced to the ground. Her head banged the hard
rock and, while she did not lose consciousness, for
several seconds she was dazed and confused and
consequently debilitated. Stack threw himself on top of
her. She fought and wriggled free from his grasp and
scampered on her hands and knees. Hoser and Grossland
pursued her and brought her back into the close confines
of the narrow cleft in the rock. Louis took hold of her
wrists and Hoser her ankles.
She was stretched and held as fast as if by ropes and
chains and straps. Yett Grossland bared her chest and
Bret Stack brushed her short skirt back and pulled her
panties down to her feet. Hoser yanked them free and
threw them aside. Sari twisted and turned. She snarled
threats.
"Yeah, yeah, sweetheart," sneered Stack. "You'll report
us to the feds and we'll get ten years inside." He
caressed her shapely legs and brought his hand up to her
crutch and rubbed while Grossland mauled her small
breasts. "But by that time we'll have fucked the ass off
you, all four of us, and we'll all have the memory of
steeping in your juices. So you may as well lay back and
enjoy the ride, baby!"
He undid his belt and flies and pulled his pants down to
his knees. He took over from Hoser, spread her legs and
hauled her hips along the rough rock to meet his. Sari
could not help but notice that he was every bit as well
endowed as Louis. An intense heat swept over her. She
knew that her vaginal wetness was pouring from her on to
the boy's invading, probing fingers. She felt his firm
masculinity being introduced to her softness. She felt
the opening to her most secret place being invaded, the
labia being splayed and her hymenal membrane stretching.
She braced herself for the boy's final thrust into her.
Tears flooded her eyes.
She screamed. "O, Lor! I am sorry!" Her young body was
acquiescing to the rape. Her womb was throbbing desire
and longing, her buttocks were lifting to meet the
aggressor, the muscles inside her Lady Cynthia were
contracting. She wanted this to happen every bit as much
as her violator was determined to make it happen. She
felt Stack stiffening as he pushed into her.
..and then the world around her suddenly and inexplicably
exploded into primeval chaos for a split second of
eternity. A golden brown shadow burst above her head.
Bret Stack's scream ripped at her nerve-endings. She felt
him being lifted from her, sucked away, as it were, up
into the hot, dry atmosphere. There was a strong animal
smell and the stench of freshly drawn blood.
Her wrists were released. She sat up. A massive growling,
grunting puma, as long as Stack was tall, was rolling
about agitatedly on top of the boy and ripping at
clothing and flesh. The three other boys, trapped inside
the narrow enclosure, were frozen with fear. Hoser was
quaking uncontrollably and Grossland was wetting
himself. Jefferson Louis could only gawk with eyes that
had never been wider; saliva dribbled from his gaping
mouth.
"Stop it!" yelled Sari. "Stop it!" Still on the ground,
she lunged at the beast, flung her arms around its
thickset neck and tried to pull it free from its prey.
She could scarcely focus because of the tears. "Oh,
please stop. Please! Please don't kill him!"
The beast halted its attack. It shook itself, twisted a
blood-sotted face to the girl and bared its teeth. She
shrank back in terror. The animal grumbled its
dissatisfaction, cast an apathetic glance at the bleeding
boy then eyed the other three. There seemed another
eternity of inaction, broken only when Davis Carter fired
the single shot. It was meant to be aimed into the vacant
air, but there was the sound of a stinging ricochet from
the uneven rock, a glancing disturbance of the dust, and
the pellet nicked the rump of the cat. The cougar spun
round on the spot, sprang upwards to the rock ledge and
disappeared.
Bret Stack lay silent. Sari bent over him. She ripped off
her blouse and wrapped it around his gashed neck. Very
gently, she turned the boy on to his back. His eyes were
half closed. She searched frantically for a pulse; there
was none, but blood continued to pump from his torn
veins. She noticed the button of semen on the point of
his still erect cock. She felt sickeningly guilty.
"You!" She yelled at the boys. "Give me your shirts!
Now!"
She was giving Stack mouth-to-mouth resuscitation when
Davis Carter and the other three boys finally reached the
shelf. There was a feeling of having done it all before;
she thought of the lifeless body of Lor's alter ego on
the piste. She was weeping great tears of remorse for her
feelings and sadness for the injured boy.
"Are you all right?" Carter demanded. When Sari rewarded
him with a withering look and continued with her
ambulance efforts on the injured Stack, he barked orders
to the six boys. There was a first aid box next to the
driver's seat on the bus, and a stretcher under the floor
at the rear. He removed his safari jacket and draped it
over the all but naked girl.
"Bret!" Sari soothed tearfully. "Don't leave us." She
hugged the boy. "Please hang on! Please don't die! We'll
get you to hospital!" Stack grunted. His eyes flickered.
"Oh, please don't go!"
There was an atmosphere of subdued resignation about the
camp on their last evening. An air ambulance had removed
Stack to the emergency unit of the nearest hospital. The
latest word Carter had received was that the boy had
horrific, life-threatening injuries, that he was fighting
for his survival and that everything humanly possible
would be done for him, but that it would be fruitless to
hope too much for a full recovery. Things were bad!
Jefferson Joe Louis appeared by Sari's side. "I'm sorry!"
he said. The girl sat apart from the others. "Truly and
really sorry!" he insisted. His moist eyes refused to be
averted.
She looked exquisite. She had scrubbed the blood from her
and put on fresh clothes - another short skirt and a
spotlessly white blouse with a school crest over her left
breast. He could even glimpse the white flash of fresh
panties. There was an endlessly resolute tranquillity
about her, an almost mysterious appearance of being in
accord with everyone and everything around her. It was a
state of mind beyond the limits of the boy's
comprehension.
"I can't blame you for being." He searched for the words;
he felt sincerely regretful, but did not know how to
express himself. It was a totally new experience for him;
he had never before in his life felt the need to
apologise for anything, especially to a girl. But this
was different, completely and overwhelmingly different.
"Sceptical?" suggested Sari. "Cynical?"
In an inexplicable way she really liked this big, clumsy
coloured boy. She emitted a long sigh and wondered, if
things had been otherwise, could she have felt for Joe
Louis what she felt, deep down inside her, for Lor
Oldmann?
The boy produced the torn panties from her first
confrontation. "I think you should have these." He
attempted to stammer more words of apology.
Sari made no attempt to take them. She eyed the garment
for a long time. "No! I think you should keep them,
Jefferson," she replied after the prolonged silence. "It
may serve to remind you of what might have been had you
gone about it differently." She softened and smiled. "And
it may be lesson material for you in the future - to
reinforce the message that there is much more to
happiness in life than self-gratification!"
Jefferson Louis shifted uncertainly. He found it
difficult to concentrate in the presence of such an
attractive female, even one so young. He stuffed the
garment back into his pocket.
"Look," he said with determination, "I am really sorry
for what has happened." There was truth in this little
packet of life, as Sari's school motto proclaimed, and
there was an earnestness on the boy's face. "I would
rather die right now than do anything else to hurt you. I
swear it. I would give anything not have done these
things to you. If there is ever anything I can do for
you, anything at all, I'll do it without question or
complaint. That is a promise!"
Sari gave a quiet laugh. "Like your promise not to rape
me?" She instantly regretted the words; the boy was so
remorseful. The tears ran in streaky channels down his
cheeks. Her heart melted. "I'm sorry Jefferson; I should
not have said that. I believe you!" She smiled on him.
"And hereby forgive you your trespasses." She laughed.
"And acquit you of all guilt."
She stood. She kissed his cheek. She watched him retreat
to join the others around the campfire that Davis Carter
had lit. A strangely deep, new kind of longing had crept
up on her. She wanted Lor Oldmann. She needed Lor
Oldmann. Her shoulder started jerking with a persistence
that shattered her apparent composure; there was a
stirring in the abyss inside her and a surging churning
in her stomach. She joined the boys at their barbecue,
but was aware that she was staring at Jefferson Jackson
Joe Louis. The inner disturbance intensified as the
prairie night closed in on them.
Sari felt sick, but it was the kind of sickness for which
there is no known cure. She was hungry, but it was the
birth of a hunger that does not dissipate with feasting.
A tug-of-war was being contested in her mind, and for
once she had only the vaguest notion of what she was
about to do for it. When the boys split up for the night,
Sari called out, "Jefferson, can I speak to you for a
bit?" She had never before felt so unsettled - nor so
sensual. "I need your help tonight!"
Davis Carter had already offered to occupy her tent again
while she slept in the locked bus. She refused, insisting
that the day's traumatic effect would be sufficient
safeguard.
"These boys have had enough excitement to last them a
while," she said. She even attempted a laugh.
Jefferson Joe Louis woke with the early morning coldness
in Sari's tent. He appraised the girl. She was naked
except for the brief panties with the school crest and
the Latin motto. It was another entirely new experience
for him: to have passed the night with a girl who was
still a virgin in the morning. He leaned across and
kissed her gently on the lips. Then dressed. And left.
There was a germinating sense that, in some odd way which
he still had difficulty in understanding, he had
acquitted himself with honour. Sari had been sublimely
satisfied - several times in the night. Nor was Jefferson
Joe complaining!
But then, he was an expert. And Sari had proved to be a
zealous learner.
***
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 19