Chapter 6: Naked and Molested in the Auditorium
No Relief as a Sophomore
My freshman year at Roosevelt High mercifully ended without any further debasements at the hands of my tormentors. I had high hopes that my suffering would finally be over, what with a new batch of freshman students coming in. After all, I was a sophomore, so they could find some nice, ripe freshman to pick on.
I would find out soon enough that this was not to be the case, as Mitch, Reggie, Marcia and Joanna seemed to derive great pleasure from imposing humiliation on me. It was during the second week of the new school year that, to my distress, I got a strong hint that my troubles weren’t over. I was at my locker when Mitch, Marcia and Joanna accosted me.
“Well hello, Blondie boy. Welcome back. It’s so nice to see you,” Joanna offered. “It’s been a while. Why don’t you drop your pants and shake your little ass for us again?” She had both hands on my waist and tried to move my hips from side to side. Amid the laughter, I slipped out of her grip, feeling very apprehensive.
“Hey, come on, I’m a sophomore now. Leave me alone and go pick on one of the new kids,” I tried.
“Oh, but we have more fun with
you, Blondie,” Marcia teased.” She took both of my cheeks in her thumbs and index fingers and tweaked them while saying, “We love seeing you blush like a little schoolgirl, just like you’re doing right now.” My cheeks were indeed burning, much to the amusement of the three antagonists. Then the bell for the next class rang, at least temporarily freeing me from further embarrassment. “Bye-bye, Blondie,” said Marcia as the three of them walked away laughing. “Let’s get together and have some fun, real soon!”
I shuddered as I gathered myself and walked to my next class. Apparently, it didn’t matter that I was no longer a freshman. My indignities would continue, much to my chagrin.
Waylaid by Marcia and Mitch
It wasn’t until December that they made good on their desire to continue in their humiliation of me. The annual Christmas play was about to take place in front of the whole student body, and I was entering the auditorium with my friend Robert. Mitch and Marcia appeared on either side of me, each taking one of my elbows. “Come sit with us, Blondie. We’d like to watch the play with you,” said Marcia.
Mitch turned to Robert and said, “Go find another playmate, buddy.”
Robert had the good sense not to interfere. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders apologetically as Mitch and Marcia escorted me into the auditorium.
We found three seats in the center of the spacious room. I was in the middle of the two with Marcia on my left. The seats on either side of them were vacant.
“Why don’t you take your jacket off and make yourself comfortable,” Marcia said.
I had no desire to remove any of my clothing, and it certainly wouldn’t have made me any more comfortable. “I’m fine, thanks,” I responded. But of course it wouldn’t be my decision.
“You better do what she says, Blondie,” intervened Mitch, “Or ‘you know what’ happens after school today.” Yes, a not-so-subtle reminder of his threat to tie me up naked in the middle of Main Street. I unzipped my jacket and took it off, laying it on my lap.
“Let me help you with that,” said Marcia as she took my jacket and laid it on the empty seat next to her.
I was feeling more ill at ease by the second.
A Quiet, Most Humiliating Stripping
The lights were turned off and the play began. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was extremely nervous. Fifteen minutes went by, during which time Mitch and Marcia left me alone. They seemed genuinely engrossed in the play.
But then their depraved plan began to unfold. Marcia leaned over and quietly spoke the words that caused me to bolt upright in my seat. “Give me your shirt,” she said.
I could have been told that nuclear war had been declared and not been any less terrified. I sat there without moving, figuring that once I submitted, then there was no telling how far things might go.
But I was between a rock and a hard place. I knew what I had to do. Incredibly, I was about to start stripping in the middle of the auditorium. Fortunately, the large room was quite dark, so I figured that only the three of us would be aware of what was transpiring.
I unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it off. I could just barely distinguish Marcia’s open palm through the darkness as I reluctantly handed over my shirt, watching nervously as she laid it on the seat with my jacket. I remember thinking how fortuitous it was that I wore a tee shirt under my shirt that day. But I had the foreboding feeling that my tee shirt would eventually belong to Marcia. I sat there, trembling in anticipation and dread.
Marcia waited a couple of minutes before turning her attention back to me. “I’ll take your shoes and socks now, pumpkin,” she said in a hushed tone while she had a hand on my shoulder.
Cringing, I leaned over and untied my shoes, removing them and my socks. I placed my socks inside my shoes and handed them to Marcia, who added them to her collection. I shivered when my feet contacted the cold floor. I looked around and was relieved that it was dark enough to obscure the sordid doings in the middle of the auditorium.
About five minutes went by before Marcia’s next overture. She took hold of the short sleeve of my tee shirt to pull me toward her and again spoke softly into my ear, in a very friendly tone of voice. “I’ll take your undershirt now, darling.”
I hesitated, took a deep breath, then in resignation I complied. I leaned over, pulled the tee shirt from the collar over my head and off my arms. When Marcia tried to take it from me, I temporarily resisted before opening my palm in surrender.
“That’s a good boy,” said the amused Marcia in a throaty whisper as she patted my bare chest.
I crossed my arms over my chest, quivering with an extreme sense of dread. I remember what a naked feeling it was, even though I was still wearing my pants. Of course, I knew what was coming next—it was just a question of when the devilish Marcia would hit me with her next shot.
Tantalizingly, she waited almost a full ten minutes before her next calculated move. Again she pressed her lips to my left ear. “You can take your pants off for me now, sweetie,” she directed, again with a teasing, friendly voice.
Although this was no surprise, it was as if I was hit with a sledgehammer. I was about to be stripped to my tighty-whities with the whole student body surrounding me. I hesitated momentarily before being nudged on my right arm by Mitch, who was obviously in tune with his partner-in-mischief.
I deliberately undid my belt and the button to my jeans before zipping them down. I slipped them down my legs. Marcia giggled as I bent over and slipped my jeans off my feet and handed them over to her outstretched hands. I watched forlornly as my pants disappeared in the darkness. What a miserable and helpless feeling it was to be sitting there like that, not knowing when or if I would get my clothes back.
Again I was made to wait for an extended period with no further word from Marcia. At one point Mitch, to my consternation, ran his hand up and down my thigh. “Nice and smooth, Blondie,” he said in a soft, husky tone. I cringed as he pulled his hand away while chuckling to himself.
After a few more excruciating minutes, the inevitable happened. I felt Marcia’s hand on my bare shoulder as she leaned toward me. I stiffened in my seat, bracing myself for what almost assuredly was coming. “Take off your underpants,” was all she said before pulling back into her seat.
It was only four words, but they were oh, so potent. I flushed intensely from head to toe, and sat paralyzed, hoping beyond hope that by ignoring her, the living nightmare would somehow go away. But only a few seconds elapsed before she nudged me in the shoulder and reached down and flicked the elastic of my underpants, pressing for my compliance. I grabbed her hand and leaned towards her in an act of desperation.
“Please, Marcia,” I said anxiously. “I’m begging you, please…Please don’t make me do this! I’ll do anything, but please, I can’t do this….” I squeezed her hand tightly for effect, then let go and leaned back in my chair. There was no immediate response from Marcia, which gave me cause for optimism.
A couple of minutes went by, and by then I had convinced myself that she was feeling compassion for me. I was just starting to feel confident enough to ask her for my clothes back when she leaned toward me, putting her lips directly over my ear canal. This time the friendliness to her voice was gone, and she spoke the words very slowly, clearly, and authoritatively.
“Give.…me….your.…underpants………..now!”
I was devastated. My situation was hopeless. I closed my eyes tightly and braced myself for the abject humiliation.
I lifted my hips and, incredulous at what was taking place, I slipped my underpants down my legs and off my feet. I let out a gasp while the sinister Marcia snatched my underpants from my clutches.
I was completely naked in the auditorium, surrounded by the entire student body.
I immediately, almost involuntarily covered my crotch with my hands, even though it was too dark for anybody to see anything down there. My knees were clenched together, and my elbows dug into my sides as I bent over with my head almost to my knees. Marcia leaned over to me and put her hand on my back and her mouth to my left ear. I could sense her delight as she tickled my ear with her soft, mellifluous voice. “Excellent, Blondie. You’re
naked, yes you are! Can’t you just die?”
My only response was rapid, heavy breathing. She merrily repeated the word “naked” several times. As if I needed to be reminded of my dire predicament. “Naked. Naked, naked, naked, naked,
nayked! Now sit up straight like the good naked boy you are, and enjoy the play,” she said.
I obeyed by sitting up, but enjoying the play was clearly out of the question. “Oh, God,” I whispered to no one in particular.
My knees remained pressed together, my arms were stiff, and my hands still clenched my genitals. I made numerous glances at my clothes. I could only see their outline, but the knowledge that they were close by was my only ray of hope. My apprehension was extreme, as I wondered if I would get them back before the lights came on. The play would surely be over within the next half hour.
I continued just sitting there, not really seeing or hearing the performance. My heart was beating a mile a minute as time wore on and Marcia showed no sign of relinquishing my clothes.
At one point that ray of hope shined brighter. I saw Marcia sifting through my clothes. She turned toward me with my jacket in her hands. I reached for the jacket, but the sadistic Marcia pulled it close to her. “It’s a little chilly in here, Blondie. I hope you don’t mind if I borrow your coat.”
The giggling Marcia wrapped my jacket around her while I sat, naked and shivering.
The Flashlight
After about fifteen minutes of inactivity, my sorry situation took a turn for the worse. First, I felt Mitch’s hand take my right wrist and pull it toward him, resting it on the armrest. “Leave it there,” he instructed.
That was Marcia’s cue to repeat the same maneuver with my left hand. “Don’t you dare move your hand,” was her command.
I now felt extremely vulnerable, and to my chagrin my vulnerability was about to be exploited. The diabolical Marcia reached into her purse and produced a small flashlight. She proceeded to flip the switch and shine it right on my exposed genitals.
My immediate reaction was to cover my nudity with my hands, but Marcia and Mitch had anticipated this, and each had a firm grip on my wrists, holding them to the armrests. Marcia put her lips to my ear. “If you cover yourself up you’ll never see your clothes again,” she warned. “And spread your knees out,” she said while pulling on my left knee with her free hand. "I want a clear view of your little bits."
I unclenched my knees and with considerable effort I spread them a few inches apart. Marcia and Mitch relaxed their grips on my wrists. I fought my natural inclination to cover myself and I kept my hands on the armrest as Marcia pointed the light directly at my crotch.
Back then I still hadn’t grown any pubic hair, and my mortification was extreme, as Marcia and Mitch had a full view of my very naked genitals. Both were using the palm of their hand to muffle their laughter.
Again Marcia put her mouth to my ear. “Such a cute wittle naked boy you are, Blondie,” she taunted. “And you have such a teensy wittle wee-wee, yes you do!.” She held the light on my “little wee-wee” for a few more seconds while she giggled some more. Then she shined the light on my blushing face and must have noticed that I looked like I could start crying at any second. “Oh, you’re not going to cwy, wittle boy, are you? Does wittle Blondie want his mommy?” I managed to hold back the tears, knowing that would only make matters worse.
Then, to my great distress Marcia shined the light at the row in front of me, revealing three grinning faces turned in my direction. One by one Marcia shined the light on Joanna and then another girl, an attractive brunette I recognized from my homeroom (her name is Brenda). The light then moved to yet another girl, whom I later found out was a friend of Brenda’s, a buxom blond named Cheryl.
Marcia then shined the light on my face so they could all take in my red-faced look of shock. She then lowered the light back down to her target as I sat there and absorbed the overwhelming humiliation.
Sexually Aroused
Though it’s probably hard for you to believe, my plight was about to worsen. Marcia took my left hand and wrapped my fingers around the flashlight. “Keep this shining on your little wee-wee, Blondie,” she ordered. So not only was I forced to sit there naked while at least five people stared at me, I had to suffer the further indignity of playing a role in my own debasement. As I sat there holding the light, I remember thinking that the depravity couldn’t sink any lower.
But I’m sorry to tell you that I was wrong, as indeed it was lowered to another level. A few minutes after Marcia handed off the flashlight, I felt her hand on the inside of my knee. She strummed her fingers while playfully working her way up the inside of my thigh. I flinched and jerked my body back when her hand reached a very sensitive spot high on my thigh, perilously close to my balls. Marcia giggled and rested her hand high on my thigh. That must have been a sign for Mitch, because he then took hold of my right wrist and pulled it toward him. At first I resisted, but then I succumbed, knowing that defiance would be fruitless.
Then—and it’s difficult for me to talk about this—he pulled my hand down to his crotch. He had unclasped and loosened his pants, and to my utter horror he directed my hand inside his boxer shorts and straight to his penis. He must have brought a small tube of Vaseline or something, because his penis was already lubricated. “Play with it, Blondie,” he whispered in my ear.
He let go of my wrist and waited for me to perform the distasteful act. I couldn’t compel myself to submit to him. I retracted my hand, knowing full well that it would provoke a reprisal. Sure enough, Mitch leaned forward and spoke loud enough for Marcia to hear. “Marcia, give me his clothes.”
“Okay! Okay, I’ll do it!” I whispered in a semi-panic.
I reached over and put my hand back inside Mitch’s shorts. Disgusted, I started fondling his penis. It was already semi-erect, but it really came to life with my touch. I was repulsed and stopped momentarily. Again Mitch leaned to my ear. “Just keep stroking it, Blondie,” he commanded. “I’ll tell you when to stop.” I swallowed hard and continued to do his bidding. “A little higher,” he instructed. “Yeah, that’s it…up and down…yeah, just like that…ohhh, yes, very nice,” he said before leaning back in sexual pleasure.
My left hand held the flashlight shining on my genitals as I continued caressing his now rock-hard, slimy penis with my right. After a couple of minutes, I felt Mitch’s left hand stroking the inside of my right thigh. Within seconds Marcia began stroking the inside of my left thigh. Her fingers would occasionally dart over to my balls, and I must say I’d never felt anything quite like that before—self-stimulation didn’t compare. Then, much to my dismay, despite my mortification, I started to get aroused. As Marcia concentrated more on my balls, no matter how hard I fought it I was becoming more erect. I heard Marcia and the girls in front of me giggle, while Mitch was moaning pleasurably.
Marcia put her lips right into to my ear and whispered, “You like that, don’t you, my naked little pet.” She then wiggled her tongue all around the inside of my ear, and I had a tingling sensation throughout my whole body, the likes of which I’d never experienced before. Then Mitch started stroking the underside of my penis and within a few seconds I had a full-fledged hard-on, such as it was. I probably was just a little over half the size of Mitch.
I heard Marcia giggle some more, and I could tell from the giggling coming from the row in front of me that Joanna, Brenda and Cheryl were enjoying the show, too—and I don’t mean the play.
All I could hear from Mitch were groans of pleasure as I dutifully continued stimulating his raging penis. Then Mitch squeezed something on his hand—probably Vaseline—and spread it all over my penis, a move that only enhanced my state of sexual excitement. Marcia concentrated on my balls, gently tickling them with her fingers. I must admit that at that point I momentarily forgot about my dreadful situation, that of being naked in a crowded auditorium while being molested by two students. As I came closer to ejaculation I closed my eyes and got lost in the moment.
“Oh…oh…oh, God, please, no…” I moaned as softly as I could.
The four girls were trying to stifle their giggles and I must have stopped my grudging servitude to Mitch, because he leaned to my ear again. “Don’t stop, Blondie!” he said, almost desperately. “Pump my cock. Pump it!”
I took hold of his penis and started jacking him off in earnest, disgusting as it was. Mitch proceeded to do the same to me. I remember losing focus of the flashlight and feeling Marcia guide it toward her mark with one hand while massaging my balls with the other.
I felt Mitch’s penis start to pulsate right about the same time that I reached orgasm. I lifted my hips off the seat and moaned, as the sensation was overwhelming. Marcia and Mitch didn’t let up until I finished, at which point I slumped back down in my seat.
A few seconds went by before Mitch leaned over and spoke quietly in my ear. “Nothing quite like simultaneous orgasm, huh Blondie?” he said while patting my thigh.
Frantic Recovery of Clothes
It was at that point that the loud ovation from the entire student body brought me back to my senses. For one horrifying moment I actually thought they were cheering my orgasm, but then I realized that the play had ended and they were clapping in anticipation of a curtain call.
That was only a minor consolation, as it hit me that I was still naked and that the lights would go on at any moment. I pulled my hand out from Mitch’s pants. I remember brushing across the wetness on his midsection and being disgusted with the stark realization that I had gotten him off.
But I had more immediate concerns. I had to get dressed as quickly as possible. So as not to waste any time, instead of asking Marcia for my clothes I reached around her to retrieve them myself.
Imagine my dismay when I found only my shoes and socks. My clothes were gone!
Now in a panic, I put both of my hands on Marcia’s shoulders and shook them passionately. “Where are my clothes?!” I asked frantically. I grabbed for my jacket, but she clutched it tightly around her chest. Without saying a word, the giggling Marcia shined the light one by one on the three grinning girls in front of me, who were each holding an article of my clothing, suspending them with two hands, right below their chins. Joanna had my pants, Cheryl had my shirt and Brenda had my underpants. My tee shirt was draped around Brenda’s neck. As I quickly reached out for them, they just as quickly retracted.
“I guess you’ll have to go get them, Blondie,” laughed Marcia.
I started to climb over the seat when Marcia slapped one of my protruding ass cheeks and took hold of my leg, pulling me back. “Not that way, silly boy,” she chided. “You’ll have to go around.”
Not having any other choice, I made the frightful trek to retrieve my clothes. The cast was making their curtain calls, so time was running out. I weaved my way across the row as quickly as I could. On my way, the wicked Marcia shined the light on my naked ass. This elicited a reaction from a couple of students.
“What the hell?” I heard from one, and “Hey, the guy’s naked!” from another.
Fortunately, not many heard them over the noise from the ovation. I reached the row in front of me and made my way toward my clothes. Again Marcia shined the light on me and I quickly ducked down. I crawled the rest of the way on my hands and knees.
When I reached the empty seat next to Joanna I grabbed my pants from her grasp, not even considering taking the time to get my underpants and tee shirt from Brenda. I quickly slipped my pants on. The sensation of donning my pants minus my underpants was becoming all too familiar.
As the lights came on, Cheryl tossed my shirt to me. I hurriedly slipped it on and buttoned it up, hoping not to be discovered by the mass of students. It probably wasn’t so, but it seemed like everybody in the auditorium was staring at me. My face felt like it was on fire; I’m sure it was tomato red.
I looked back and the grinning Marcia handed me my shoes, socks and jacket. I put them on and started filing out of the auditorium.
When I reached the hallway, I was surrounded by all five of the grinning culprits who had put me through the staggering humiliation. I looked straight down at the floor, too shamed to look any of them in the eyes.
“That was a very uplifting play, Blondie,” Mitch called out. “Don’t you think?”
To the sounds of laughter, I walked away speedily without answering.
* * * * *
The next morning I walked into homeroom with considerable dread, knowing I would have to face one of my antagonists from the day before.
My dread would be justified. When I reached my desk in the front row, I discovered my underwear that I had stripped off in the auditorium. My tee shirt was draped across the back of my seat and my underpants were neatly spread across my desk. I quickly snatched them up and stuffed them in my backpack.
When I sat down, I couldn’t help but take a glance back and make eye contact with Brenda, who was grinning widely at my profusely blushing face.
