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The Education of Rachel
-----------------------

by Danton

Part 4.

She was prepared for mass rape, but she was not prepared for her next command.
Although the hands of the men remained away from her body, Rachel was keenly 
aware of their intense gazes, emanating in some cases just a few inches from
her flesh.  Indeed, the men closest to her at the table's center could look
down and examine her skin in great detail, and were doing so.  As her breathing
became more pronounced, her breasts rose and fell gently from the table,
following the complementary motions of the rise of her stomach.  As her host
returned to his seat at the head of the table, his line of sight fixed
directly between her legs, he issued a command which quite literally made
her flinch.

"Masturbate" he ordered.

He knew!  The terror in Rachel's veins increased a hundred-fold -- she realized
that her worst shame had been betrayed.  Never in her life had Rachel allowed
anyone to see her masturbate.  No-one, that is, except her mother.  In her
fifteenth year Rachel had learned to pleasure herself, and during that long
summer she would hide herself in her room, far away from prying eyes, and
lay for hours, naked on her bed.  Gently and teasingly touching her breasts,
her anus, and her clitoris, dreaming sweetly of distant lovers and the
wonderful feel of their caresses, she would ever so gradually build 
herself up to an exquisite plateau, tightening all of the muscles in her 
legs and stomach, forcing her blood to boil between her legs, until she could
wait no longer.  Releasing her passion with a scream muffled only by her own
fist,  Rachel would feel her vagina clench and re-open, over and over, and
hear the sounds it created as her body expelled the air from her feminine
cavity.  

Once, at the height of her passion, her back arched widely, her legs open fully,
knees in the air,  her vaginal lips began to sing just as her mother entered
the room.  Her frenzy at its zenith, Rachel refused to end the long voyage
which had occupied her afternoon and continued on, despite her mother's 
presence.  The squeal that accompanied her orgasm was almost totally drowned
in the hateful barrage of her mother's disgust.  Collapsing, breathless,
in a heap on her bed, Rachel was immediately and abruptly awakened from her
reverie by the sudden slap of her mother's hand across her face.

Shrieking and cursing, voice filled with unhidden disgust, Rachel's
mother demanded that she lie face down, across the bed.  Terrified and
shamed, the young girl obeyed, exposing her nude buttocks to her mother's
vengeful pounding.  After so many lashes with the wooden ruler, Rachel was
hardly able to move, let alone walk or sit, and she stayed hidden in her room
for the remainder of the evening, crying in pain and shame.

The experience put an end to Rachel's masturbation, at least for as long as
she was under her mother's roof.  Desperate fears of discovery and pain would
simply not allow her to experience the same level of pleasure she had
previously enjoyed, and so masturbation, and until much later, sexual
stimulation of all kinds, became something which Rachel avoided religiously.

When finally she managed to escape her mother's grasp and begin her own life,
Rachel did eventually return to her former pleasure, and again taught her
body to respond to loving touches.  But she did so only in private, and
always behind a locked door.  Still, the sound her body made at its climax
invariably brought Rachel's long-repressed shame to the surface.  She learned 
to despise the din of her own orgasms, and hence refused to allow anyone to
see and hear her masturbate, lest they judge her actions to be disgusting, 
as her mother had years before.  Not even John, the man to whom she had
sworn allegiance forever, had witnessed her most private sexual experience;
perhaps, she now thought, he had wanted to.

"216, I have given you an order."  In shock, Rachel had not moved; the hard
surface of the table coaxed pins and needles from her back and legs.  "Need I
remind you of our rules here?"  Her host's voice was calm but cold, impersonal.
Rachel knew that she would be punished if she failed to perform immediately,
but had no idea what form such punishment might take.  Could it be worse
than what she had been ordered to endure here?  Rachel decided not to find out.

As more rational thought returned to her, a plan took shape.  If they wanted 
a show, Rachel could give them a show, but it did not have to be real.  Closing
her eyes, she drew a long, deep breath and opened her legs, exposing her most
sensative flesh to the gazes of the curious onlookers.  I might as well get
this over with quickly, Rachel decided.  Wetting the fingers of her 
right hand with her tongue, she began to gently moisten her pubic area.
With long, firm strokes, her hand caressed her labia, avoiding the clitoris,
gently squeezing the fleshy folds between her fingers.  Spittle glistening
in her pubic hair, under the bright light of the room, Rachel began her 
performance in earnest.  With her left hand she massaged her breasts, first
the left then the right, while continually increasing the activity of her
right hand.  All the while, she tried to affect a mock panting by breathing
faster and more insistently.  She did not, however, alter her original 
posture -- her back remained flat against the hard surface, and she left her 
legs likewise limp.  

After several minutes of this bizarre pantomime, Rachel finished it in a final
burst of simulated erotic energy.  Arching her back only slightly, she placed
both hands on her moist genitalia and rubbed furiously for a few seconds,
collapsing finally back to a limp position, closing her legs tightly together,
and panting heavily in an attempt to regain control of her breathing.  A
triumph, Rachel thought, I've managed to play their silly game and still retain
dignity, and control.

"216," her host began calmly, "did you enjoy your orgasm?"

Her vision directed once more at the ceiling, Rachel slowed her affected
respiration and answered him simply, "Yes Sir."

"And this," he continuing, as if thinking aloud, "this is your usual method
of personal stimulation?"

"Yes Sir."  What was he playing at?  Somewhere in the recesses of her mind,
a distant fear began to bud.

"Later on, 216, you will be punished for lying to us.  For now, I demand
that you carry out my original order to the very best of your ability."

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