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Chapter 6


The voice of the psychology instructor droned on, and Suzanne stared
blankly up at the podium, only catching an occasional word he said. She
had always liked her psychology class, not only because of the
instructor who happened to be rather handsome, but because of her
interest in the subject in relations to her project with the poorer
classes in the neighborhood. Yet today she found her interest
wandering, her mind too filled with other thoughts.

She suddenly became aware he was addressing her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, feeling very foolish. "I didn't catch
that."

The instructor smiled.

"I was saying that many people are under the impression that the poorer
classes are more sexually active because it is the one entertainment
that costs them nothing. Have you found anything in your recent studies
to substantiate this theory?"

Suzanne flushed, and in her mind she saw again the three boys, naked in
her living room, and her own body heaving beneath their attack.

"Er ... Well ..." she began, "I really haven't done enough research
yet. But it sounds reasonable, don't you think?"

The instructor smiled. "Not necessarily. Statistics show that there is
just as much promiscuity among the more affluent classes. I personally
do not think that poverty necessarily means a higher rate of sexual
activity. After all, individual sex drives are not predicated on
economic status. However, the illegitimate birth rate among the poor
seems to indicate that they perhaps do not have as much regard for the
consequences of their actions, and do not invest in contraceptive
devices to the same degree as the rich. One of the tragedies of the
lower income groups is their unusually high family size, which only
compounds their unfortunate economic position."

A student raised his hand.

"Perhaps the poor indulge in large families as a gesture of
accomplishment," he said. "It is the one function they can perform
without training. It's like they feel they might not be able to work
their way up to a position of social eminence, or professional
respectability, so they prove themselves biologically instead of
intellectually."

The instructor laughed. "Interesting, but I don't think valid, in view
of research. Most economically deprived fathers are more interested in
satisfying their sex drive than their urge for social recognition."

The young man was not to be put off.

"What about the kids, though?" he persisted. "I've talked to some who
feel they've really made it when they can ball a rich chick instead of
someone in their own neighborhood. And there're lots of girls from
Grosse Pointe who'll go with a guy from a poor neighborhood because of
the kicks involved. You know, the idea of slumming, of being manhandled
forcibly to satisfy some masochistic tendency."

"Ah." The instructor raised his eyebrows. "That's something else again.
True, many women will achieve greater sexual satisfaction from a
violent sexual encounter rather than the more refined or sophisticated
approach. And presuming that a young man from a rough neighborhood will
be more sexually aggressive, there is the sadistic impulse to prove
himself with a girl from a more refined background. And some girls will
often enjoy such encounters out of a perverse streak in their nature,
the desire to be degraded out of guilt for their affluent upbringing."

Suzanne felt a slow flush creeping up her neck, and then her face was
scarlet, and she dropped her eyes, hoping that no one would notice or
comment. Inside her, she recognized her own reactions, the feeling she
had that morning in the bathtub as she visualized herself being
violated by the three boys. Despite the fear, there had been a strong
element of earthy satisfaction from the experience. She had enjoyed it,
and she knew she would want it to happen again. Maybe not under the
same frightening conditions, but definitely the physical reactions she
found more than usually stimulating. And she knew it was because the
boys were different from any she had socialized with before. Her Grosse
Pointe boyfriends were knowledgeable in the social graces; their speech
and manners were sophisticated; their enforced respect of her was a
barrier to the type of harsh physical manhandling she had endured the
last two days in her apartment. And yet despite their lack of
refinement, they had touched a pagan spark buried deep within her, a
spark now flaring with a consuming passion that excited her responses
at the very thought of it happening again.

"Tell me, Suzanne, you have made contact with one family, I believe?"
The instructor was addressing her again. Oh, God, she hoped no one
would observe her flushed condition.

She nodded.

"There have been young men in the family?"

"Yes, two brothers," she replied, a little hesitantly. "One is sixteen,
I think, the other about two years older."

"Have you felt any desire on their part to deepen their contact with
you, maybe an indelicate suggestion, or have they been keeping their
distance?"

She flushed. "I ... I wouldn't let them ..." she began, and the
instructor cut her short.

"I'm not intimating that you would," he said brusquely. "But you can
tell whether there might be the desire on their part."

"I would think that perhaps they might," she said slowly. "But on every
occasion I have talked with them while their mother was present.
They're not particularly well educated, though the younger one seems to
have some promise. I feel he shows more potential than his older
brother, who's just a little hood, I'd say."

The instructor smiled. "Thank you, Suzanne. We'll be interested in
hearing more when you've completed your study of this family."

Suzanne smiled, and looked down at her books again. She felt humiliated
at even having to discuss the boys, yet she knew it was only her
conscience bothering her; no one knew about what had happened. No one
but Yvonne and Carole, and she knew they wouldn't talk.

The class ended, and she stumbled to the door, thankful to get out of
the close confines of the room and out into the fresh air. She took a
deep breath and began walking back to her apartment. She saw Carole in
the distance, and they waved at each other. Then as she turned the
corner on to Hancock, she saw a familiar figure in blue jeans and a
dirty shirt, lounging against the concrete abutment surrounding the
campus. Her heart almost stopped, but she continued walking, biting her
lips in fear.

"Hi, Suzanne," said Donald, his young face breaking into a broad smile.
"You okay today?"

"Yes, but no thanks to you," she snapped, walking past him. He fell
into step with her, and she glared at him.

"Donald, if you don't leave me alone, I'm going to call the police,"
she said uncertainly. "And what's more, I'll speak to your mother about
what's happened."

Donald giggled. "That won't help. Ted's already told her we screwed
you."

"He ... he what?" she gasped, stopping in her tracks and staring at him
disbelievingly.

"It's true. He doesn't care."

"And you do, I suppose?"

He paused awkwardly.

"I ... I like you, Suzanne. You know that, don't you? I'm really sorry
about everything, but I still like you. I'd like to do it again with
you, just you and me, nice and quiet."

"You're a degenerate, like your brother," she snapped heatedly. "So
don't try and sweet talk me now." She paused, her chest heaving with
emotion. "What did your mother say?"

Donald laughed. "She said he'd better watch out, that was all. She
doesn't care. She's too busy makin' out with her own boyfriends. She
fucks around quite a bit."

Suzanne gasped. "In your house? With you boys there?"

"Sure. What's wrong with that?"

"Well, if you don't know, there's no sense telling you," said Suzanne,
pushing past him. "Goodbye, Donald, and don't try to follow me. I never
want to see you again."

He stood still, looking at her retreating form walking quickly up the
sidewalk.

"Hey."

She stopped, and looked back.

"See ya." He waved and grinned at her. With beating heart, Suzanne
turned and almost ran the rest of the way back to her apartment. She
let herself in, slammed the door, and locked it. Then she collapsed on
the couch, her body shaking.

Oh, God, she murmured to herself, oh what'll I do if they come back?
She closed her eyes and rested until her heart had quieted down and her
limbs had stopped shaking.

The gall of that boy! And telling their mother what they had done. What
sort of people were they? Were they completely lacking in moral
scruples? Had they no sense of decency at all? And yet he had confessed
he liked her and wanted to be with her again, just the two of them. She
was right. She had sensed a quality of tenderness in him before, and
she knew that taken away from his brother, his mother and his
environment, Donald could well shape into a worthwhile man. But did she
care? Did she really care what happened to this teenage rapist who had
forced himself upon her in much the same fashion as his brother and the
colored boy? No, she didn't; but she couldn't deny the response she
felt in her loins for him.

She was reminded of Yvonne's frank discussion about Jeff, about men's
sex appeal and the size of their organs. Donald's penis was definitely
appealing to her. Unlike the gross size and thickness of his brother,
or Clayton's massive dark-skinned shaft, Donald's penis was smooth,
white and sensual-looking. While he might not have displayed as much
animal ferocity as the others, he had a technique which she found
immensely satisfying, and the penetration of his organ was infinitely
fulfilling for her. If she could only get Donald away from the others,
away from his present environment ... Suzanne shook her head and sat
up, wiping her eyes. This was ridiculous, she thought; it was Sam she
really wanted. Sam was the man of her dreams, the one she loved, and so
what was this perverse fantasy over a slum boy whose only appeal lay in
the seven inches of hard flesh he projected between his legs? Sam had
just as much, she felt sure, and Sam would certainly be tender, gentle
and when aroused, probably just as forcefully aggressive to appeal to
her animal instincts. Yes, Sam it was; not Donald. But when the hell
was he coming home? Oh, Sam, Sam ...

She walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her burning
face. She patted herself dry, and felt better. She went over to the
desk, opened her books, and began to study.

* * *

The sun had just dipped below the skyline when Suzanne realized she had
been sitting at her desk for several hours, absorbed in her work. The
clatter of footsteps on the stairs broke into her thoughts, and she
felt a pang of apprehension until she realized it must be a woman; the
noise of heels was unmistakable.

"Hey, Suzanne, you home?"

Carole's cheerful voice rang out, and Suzanne walked quickly over to
the door, unlocked it, and let the girl in.

"Wow, I'm bushed," she said, collapsing on the couch as Suzanne closed
the door and locked it again. "How are you feeling today?"

Suzanne grinned. "Oh, I'm fine."

"Any sign of those monsters?"

"No, but I ran into Donald on campus. He must've been waiting to talk
to me. He said he wanted us to ball again, just him and me."

Carole snorted. "I hope you kicked him right in the crotch."

"No, I told him if he didn't stop bothering me, I'd call the police.
But you know something? I threatened to tell his mother, and he said
Ted had already told what happened, and the woman wasn't fazed at all.
Can you beat that?"

Carol shrugged. "Typical. These mothers are nothing but legalized
whores. I've yet to meet one that has any semblance of dignity or
decency. It's sad, it really is. I guess they're not much better than
animals. It's a pity they can't be segregated somewhere away from the
rest of us who know how to live a clean life."

Suzanne giggled. "Maybe so, but then there're some who might say the
same about you and Yvonne."

Carole's eyes widened. "Oh, knock it off!" she exploded. "You're mixing
apples and pears. Don't tell me you put me in the same category?"

"Of course not," said Suzanne quickly. "I was just trying to be
objective."

Carole sniffed. "After last night, you have no basis for being
objective, dear," she commented softly. She stared at Suzanne for a
moment. "You're terribly nice, you know. In bed, I mean."

"Thanks. I can use a few compliments."

They both laughed, and Carole lit a cigarette.

"Jeez, I really am tired. Two classes today, and an interview about a
part-time job."

"Tell you what," said Suzanne. "Why don't you and Yvonne have dinner
here with me tonight? I've got a whole mess of stuff in the
refrigerator. Come on, I'd love to."

Carole smiled. "Oh, you certainly know the right things to say at the
right time," she murmured. "It's a deal. Yvonne'll be home soon. You
plan to eat early? I'm actually starved."

"Whenever you want," replied Suzanne, moving into the kitchen. "I'll
start right away."

"Okay," said Carole, rising. "I'll go clean up and put on my robe, and
when Yvonne gets home, we'll come up. Okay?"

She went over to the door. "Hey, Suzanne, come and lock the door behind
me." She giggled as Suzanne came into the room. "We don't want any
unwanted company, now, do we?"

"You bet."

Suzanne locked the door behind her, and went back into the kitchen,
humming to herself. She felt her spirits rising at the prospect of
company. She remembered her thoughts the night before, seeing the
closeness between Yvonne and Carole. Well, if she didn't have a
roommate, at least she'd be having some good company, and she looked
forward to a good dinner with pleasant conversation and afterwards ...
Suzanne grinned to herself wickedly. Who knows? She thought maybe
afterwards they might all roll into bed again. It was fun, she had to
admit; it was real fun, and wonderful sex. Just at the thought, she
felt a twinge within her and a tingle in her loins. Yes, it just might
be a wonderful evening again. She licked her lips in anticipation.

Efficiently she took a canned ham off the shelf, opened it, and placed
it in a casserole, covering it with a small can of sliced peaches and a
few cloves. She popped it into the oven, and then paused a moment,
looking at the boxes of frozen vegetables in the freezer compartment.
She decided on peas and cauliflower and broke open the packages,
placing the vegetables together in one large pan, filling it with water
and placing it on the top burner. What about dessert? She had half a
layer cake left over. Cake and ice cream, she thought. Easy and
appealing. Fine. That's what it would be.

By the time Yvonne and Carole clattered up the stairs from their
apartment, both in their robes and slippers, Suzanne had changed her
clothes herself, put on her terrycloth robe, and had laid the table for
three. The twilight outside had given way to darkness, and the
apartment had a warm, cozy atmosphere that soothed her nerves. She felt
they were going to have a nice pleasant meal and a relaxing evening
together afterwards.

"Hi, doll," said Yvonne, coming over and giving her a squeeze around
the waist. "I hear you're playing cook tonight?"

"Uh-huh. And I hope you'll like it."

"Anything's fine, boobsy, tonight I could eat a horse," said Yvonne,
flopping into a chair and reaching for her cigarettes. "Carole tells me
you met one of the kids today."

"Yes. I told him to get the hell away from me."

"Good for you. I still think they'll try and see you again, so be
careful."

"I am. That front door's locked and it's going to stay that way. If I
hear them outside, I'm calling the police."

"Now you're talking. Say, I had a wild idea today. I thought maybe I
could get three well-built guys over here some night and hide them in
the bathroom, and then you invite those little bastards over, and
they'd get a beating they wouldn't forget. I know a few guys who'd love
to avenge your sullied virtue. Jeff for one, I'm sure."

Suzanne grinned. "It sounds great, but I'd rather let well enough
alone. You know something, though ..." She paused a moment, and
giggled. "I was thinking about Donald. On his own, he wouldn't be bad
to take. I mean, he does have a real nice face, and his body's well-
built, and ..."

"And his cock's gorgeous, I know, I know," Yvonne interrupted her.
"Listen, you horny little sex maniac, he may have been great when he
finally got with it, but that doesn't mean you're to start anything
going with a tramp like that. If you're horny, I've got plenty of guys
who'd just love to come over and screw you. To say nothing of Carole
and me, incidentally."

"Don't worry, I'm not thinking about it," Suzanne said soberly. "But I
just feel sorry for him. He could be a real nice kid, away from that
family and the neighborhood."

"Well, you keep your altruistic feelings for those who deserve them,"
said Carole. "You're not out of the woods yet, remember. If you have
your period, you can breathe easily. Oh, by the way, did you go to a
doctor?"

Suzanne shook her head. "No, I figured between Yvonne's douche powder
and all that hot water, I'm probably okay."

"Oh, well, so be it," said Carole.

"She's okay," snapped Yvonne, "That stuff I gave her'd kill anything.
Besides do you think I'd have messed around with her last night if I
thought she had something?"

Suzanne reached into the oven and took out the ham.

"Mmm, that smells divine," said Carole. "Are we eating now?"

"We sure are. Gather round."

Within minutes, they were all settled round the table, helping
themselves to the spread of ham, vegetables and steaming hot coffee.
Yvonne looked at Suzanne and smiled affectionately.

"Anyone who can whomp up a dinner like this deserves to be married,"
she said softly. "Sam's a lucky guy."

Suzanne smiled happily. "I hope you're right. I just hope he gets back
soon. I'm ready for him now. Oh, God, am I ready!"

The last plate had been washed and put away, and they relaxed in the
living room, each with another cup of coffee. Carole closed her eyes
and sighed contentedly.

"Oh, that was wonderful. You don't know how I appreciate it, Suzanne. I
was in no mood to cook."

"It was good, wasn't it?" said Suzanne. "Ham's one of my favorites, and
it's so easy to fix, too."

"Was it a kosher ham, dear?" asked Yvonne evilly, and they all laughed.
"Which reminds me," she continued, inhaling deeply from her ever-
present cigarette. "I went with this kosher guy once. You know, I do
believe there's a difference in having sex with a circumcised guy and
one who's not."

"Yvonne!!"

Carole's voice exploded across the room.

"Relax, I'm just reminiscing," she said imperturbably. "But I have
found when they've had something cut off their cock, they don't seem as
aggressive. Maybe I'd feel the same way if I had half my tits removed."

"If you had half your tits removed, dear," said Carole calmly. "You
could join the men's swimming team."

"Bitch!"

Suzanne laughed, enjoying the pleasant banter between them, their
obvious affection showing through the exchange of insults.

"When I've had your experience, darling, then maybe I can pass
judgment," said Yvonne. "I guess I'd better keep my mouth shut. But you
know me and sex. It's my favorite subject."

She mashed her cigarette out and looked in the package.

"Oh, damn, I'm out. Carole ..."

"Hm ..."

"Be a doll and run down to our place and get me a new pack. They're on
the dresser."

Carole sighed, and slowly got to her feet.

"What's in it for me, huh?"

Yvonne smirked. "I'll be extra sexy tonight. I may even use the dildo
on you."

"Thanks a lot."

"Come on, Suzanne, I'll help you wash the coffee cups," said Yvonne,
gathering them and moving to the kitchen.

She and Suzanne walked into the kitchen as Carole unlocked the front
door and left the apartment.

"I love the way you two bitch at each other," remarked Suzanne as they
stood by the sink. "I never dreamed you were as close. I mean, I never
thought two girls could get that way, you know what I mean?"

Yvonne nodded.

"Yup. We have our knock-down-drag-outs but as a rule, we get along
pretty well. You see ..." Her voice softened ... "We love each other.
That makes a big difference. You can put up with a little shit once in
a while because the other times make up for it. And believe me, I know
I'm not easy to live with."

Suzanne turned the faucet on full-blast and rinsed the cups and
saucers. Above the noise, she heard Yvonne say something.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you," she said, turning off the water and
reaching for the dishtowel.

"I said: you'll find out when you start living with Sam."

Suzanne giggled. "You mean marry him or live with him?"

"Either. Though I suspect you'll probably live with him for a while
now. After all, it's good to try the merchandise before buying."

"You're goddamn right, sister!"

They both whirled, and standing in the doorway was Ted. Behind him, his
white teeth splitting his black face from ear to ear, was Clayton, and
next to him Donald.

Suzanne felt a scream welling up inside her, and before she could utter
a sound Yvonne's voice boomed out.

"You motherfuckers get the hell out of here."

From the living room they heard Carole's footsteps on the stairs, and
Yvonne shouted out.

"Carole, run. Get the police."

Clayton turned, and they heard his footsteps across the living room,
and Carole's scream. A moment later he dragged her inside, and the
front door slammed behind them. The click of the lock as Clayton turned
it sounded like an explosion.

"Now, chicky-babies, it's time for dessert," said Clayton, his dark
eyes staring humorously around them.

"Oh, God," whispered Suzanne. "We forgot the door."

"You sure did," said Ted. "But that wouldn't've stopped us."

They stared at each other. Suzanne had backed away, and Yvonne stood,
her hands on her hips, her face a picture of contempt. Carole, pinned
in Clayton's strong arm, his hand over her mouth, was struggling
violently.

"You better calm down, baby, or you'll feel my hand real hard," he said
softly. Her eyes widened and she stopped moving.

"Thass better," said Clayton. "And now I guess we can have our little
party. It sure's gonna be nice this way." He turned to Ted and grinned.
"There's one for each of us now. Oh, baby, there's nothin' better'n an
orgy."

Yvonne opened her mouth and the beginnings of a scream emerged, but Ted
stepped forward, and with a quick movement he belted her across the
cheek. She staggered back against the wall.

"You get the message?" he drawled. "Now listen here. No one's gonna get
hurt, as long as you spread your legs. Okay?" He stared at Suzanne.
"Hi, there. How's that hot little cunt tonight?"

Suzanne was petrified. She found she couldn't move. Her voice had
disappeared. Inside her she felt her heart pounding so hard she thought
she was going to faint. Finally, a whispered plea emerged from her
lips.

"Please ... oh, Please ..."

Clayton's booming laugh echoed around the room.

"You see, jest like I said she would: she's pleading for it again. Oh,
baby, and you're gonna git it, every inch of it right up that nice
white pussy. And that's only for starters."

Ted reached out and grabbed Suzanne's wrist, jerking her forward.
Numbly she let herself be pushed into the living room. Clayton heaved
Carole into Donald's waiting arms, and closed his long thick fingers
around Yvonne's arm.

"Come on, baby, let's get this show on the road."

"You take your filthy hands off me," snapped Yvonne. "You goddamn
nigger."

Clayton's eyebrows rose, and his mouth grinned evilly.

"Oh, oh, sounds like another Grosse Pointer," he said. "Or mebbe from
Dearborn? Well, baby, you're gonna find out it doesn't rub off."

He dragged her into the living room, where Donald was holding Carole
and Ted was gripping Suzanne. The boys all looked at one another.

"Okay, last one in's a cocksucker," said Clayton, and with one hand he
seized Yvonne's robe and ripped it down, leaving her standing naked,
her eyes flashing at him with hate. She opened her mouth, but before
she could scream his hand had belted her violently, and she fell to the
floor.

"Like I said, no noise, no trouble," said Clayton.
2 comments

anonymous readerReport

2012-10-03 06:24:45
说:Hi Vishnu:The 100 ms is the transmission rate, i.e. every 100 ms the data is tmsnaritted by the radio. The ISA100.11a standard is designed to support a very high data transmission rate. The sampling rate at the sensor level is to be defined by field-instrument vendors. We sample data every second and our fastest transmission rate, which is the fastest in the market, is 1 sec. We are able to implement such a fast reporting rate thanks to the infrastructure devices that we have developed. We also take advantage of the backbone router function defined by ISA100.11a. This allows a field instrument to act as a non routing field instrument, i.e. it will only send its data to a backbone router device such as Honeywell’s Multinode or Field Device Access Point, or Cisco’s 1552S Access Point which are line powered (24VDC or 120/230V AC) devices that act as repeaters. This is really the only way you can achieve multi-year battery life for devices that require fast reporting rates such

anonymous readerReport

2012-07-29 17:21:40
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