Her eyes then locked with the girl’s. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Claire. What did you think was going to happen when you showed up in my class all sweet and innocent, with those big brown puppy dog eyes and wet pouty kewpie-doll lips … ‘oh teach me, teach me Ms. Swanson! I’ll do my best, Ms. Swanson! You just ignore my killer body and super-cute face the way I do, Ms. Swanson! Let’s pretend that every boy, and most of the girls, don’t wanna fuck me, Ms. Swanson! Who, little ol’ innocent pure-as-the-driven-snow-me, Ms. Swanson?’”
The words hit Claire like slaps, making her eyes water, her eyelids quiver, and then blink, her expression crumbling into agonized despair. Her head screwed on her neck, tears pouring out onto the carpet as her body was wracked by shuddering sobs.
“Oh no,” cried Dorothy Swanson, running over to kneel by Claire’s head. “Did I upset you, dear?” She took Claire’s face in her hands, forcing the girl to look back up at her. “Did I make sweet little snookums cry?” The Holden girl’s eyes fluttered as she tried to keep, or lose, her sanity.
“That’s the least of it, bitch,” the woman promised. “I don’t like girls who act like you, all sweetness and light. You look like a sex doll, so that’s just what you’re gonna be. You’re ours now, body, face, and soul, and we’re gonna keep you nice and safe.” Claire was crying in earnest as the woman kneed the man lightly in the shoulder. “You almost done?”
“Give me a minute,” he grunted. “Shit, I already screwed her three times today!”
“Good boy,” Ms. Swanson commended. She squeezed Claire’s face. “Now, that’ll teach you, baby.” Then she rocked back and watched as he curled his arms under the girl’s shoulders, sunk his fingers into the grooves made by her collar bones, and started humping her like a rabid dog.
