The Good Girl
Part II
xmlns="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40">
Hello again, and welcome back. Thanks very much to everyone
who kindly left a review, they were very encouraging. This sort of story (the
NC-17 rated kind) does not come easy for me,
but your feedback is very inspiring. Anyway, here is the next part. By
the way, I’m thinking of taking Koyo High anrninrning it into a series. What
better setting than a high school for throwing characters into all sorts of
compromising situations? So stay tuned for more news about upcoming Koyo High
stories, and in the meantime, please enjoy this one!
The Good Girl
Part II
At home my sisters Sae and Midori ran shrieking around the
apartment. I caught the eight-year-old Sae with one hand and blocked Midori’s
path, scolding her. “You’re almost eleven years old, you know better than to
run around like that.”
“Is that you, Juri?” my mother called from the kitchen. I
sent Sae and Midori on their way and went to greet her.
“I’m home, Mother.”
My mother was stirring a simmering pot of noodles over the
stove. She glanced up as I entered the kitchen, her elegant face a mixture of
concern and weariness. “You’re late getting home.”
“Oh, I had to clean this afternoon. It took longer than
expected.” Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie.
Mother still looked worried. “You face is flushed. You’re
not coming down with something, are you?” She placed a cool hand against my
forehead. “You feel warm. Why don’t you sit down at the table and I’ll make
some tea.”
“I’m really fine. Besides, I’ve got a lot of homework to
do.”
“You always have homework to do. I never see you,” Mother
replied wistfully.
I felt a pang of guilt. “Well...I could do my homework in
here, I guess.”
Mother ordered Sae and Midori to play in the living room
while she made the proffered cup of tea and I attacked my homework. Without my
sisters underfoot, I managed to finish it in a relatively short amount of time.
After that there were printouts to go over; by the time I was finished with all
my work, dinner was on the table.
font-family:Arial'>We said the blessing. I didn’t realize that it was the only
time I’d spoken until Mother laid down her chopsticks and looked worriedly at
me. “Are you sure you’re all right, Juri? You’re very quiet tonight.”
“I’m fine, Mother, really.”
Mother looked skeptical, but at that moment Sae started
complaining about Midori’s teasing, and to my relief the subject was dropped.
Later that night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling and
tried not to think about Daisuke, about his maddening smirk and the way I felt
when he touched me. I came. He violated me, practically raped me, and I
came.
“I hate you, Daisuke,” I whispered in the darkness.
* *
I was running. Through the halls of my sl, bl, bare feet
slapping against the linoleum, my hair loose and wild. Koyo High was empty, its
doors ominously shut, blurring as I flew through the halls. I heard footsteps
behind me and realized then that I wasn’t just running; I was being chased.
A thrill shot through me at this sudden knowledge and I
pounded the floor like a jackrabbit, up stairs, through the halls, around
corners, runrunrun, elude my pursuer and shake off the chains and run free,
run free forever. I was strong, I was fast, I was powerful; there was nothing
that could hold me back or tie me down.
I burst through a door at the end of a hall and slammed into
the edge of a rail that looked over the schoolyard darkened by twilight—the
emergency staircase—and my consciousness was caught in that dizzying drop that
tumbled to hard pavement; I wanted to leap over the rail and continue the chase
as much as I was terrified of that fall.
Arms closed around me; a hot mouth pressed against the nape
of my neck. I shrieked, a wild sound, twisting and writhing in my captor’s
grip, but I knew that I was caught and part of me reveled in that knowledge as
I had reveled in my flight just moments before. My captor forced me down with
strong, unyielding hands until I bent prone over the rail, the metal bar
digging hard into my middle; he yanked my skirt up, grasped my hips, and
entered me with a swiftness that stole my breath away. Then he was fucking me,
hard and fast, hands digging painfully into my hips as I stared down at that
drop, my vision white around the edges. The fire consumed me and I dove
headfirst into the endless, giddy abyss as Daisuke’s voice whispered in my ear.
font-family:Arial'>
font-family:Arial'>
I bolted upright in bed, sweating and feverish, my heart
pounding in my chest. It took my dizzied mind several moments to realize that I
was in my bed in a cramped room in a cramped apartment; that the chase and the
moment of bliss on the emergency staircase had been only a dream. My own traitorous
mind had made me believe that Daisuke was fucking me in the most depraved way I
could come up with. And my entire body was shaking from the pleasure of it.
Blankets rustled across the room. “Juri?” Midori asked
sleepily. “You okay?”
“Y-yeah. I think.”
“Were you having a bad dream?”
I made a face. Far from it, much as I hated to admit it.
“Don’t worry about me, Midori. Go back to sleep.”
“Mm.” Midori rolled over agreeably, and minutes later she
was happily snoring.
Sleep didn’t come so easy for me.
* *
The rest of the week turned into a routine for me. I went to
school, studied in my classes, met with fellow class representatives in my
year, cleaned after school a day out of the week, and generally avoided Daisuke
as much as possible. To my relief—mostly—he didn’t make that difficult. In fact
he didn’t say a word to me all week.
He’s had his fun with you, now you’re nothing to him,
a treacherous, resentful part of my mind. Good, the more sensible side
of me replied firmly. God knew I had enough to worry about without him hounding
me. It was getting close to exam time, and between studying and my duties as a
class rep, it was easy to put Daisuke entirely from my mind.
Less easy to banish were the dreams. They came unbidden,
following in the same vein as the first one, and night after night I woke hot
and sweaty and trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure. There didn’t seem to
be any stopping them, no matter how hard I threw myself into work.
As the week passed, I began to realize that my initial
impression of Daisuke was wrong. He wasn’t ignoring me. He didn’t try to corner
me, it was true, or even talk to me—but he watched me. Often in homeroom in the
mornings, going over the printouts with my class, I would look up to see his
eyes fixed irrevocably on me. He never flinched or looked away when I caught
him. He met my eyes levelly, letting me know without words that he wasn’t
ignoring me at all—he was waiting.
I tried not to think about him. I was careful not to let
myself be caught alone with him, so what did I have to worry about? Nothing, as
long as I continued avoiding him.
And yet—those dreams.
They’re nothing, I told myself again and again. Just
the product of an overactive subconscious.
There was no truth to them. That just wasn’t possible.
Saturday came and went, then at last it was Sunday. A full
day without seeing Daisuke—so why was it that somehow, I didn’t relish that
prospect?
I put the thought from my mind and concentrated on studying
most of the day. That night, however, I dreamed that Daisuke stripped me bare
outside in the schoolyard, tied my hands behind my back with my own panties,
and fucked me there on the pavement for the entire world to see.
* *
I was tired that Monday morning, a result of too much work
and too little sleep—the dreams were hardly restful, after all. When I read the
cleaning schedule posted on the bulletin board outside my class, it took me a
few minutes to realize what I was seeing.
When it finally hit my overtired brain, I momentarily froze.
Friday afternoon, Kobayashi Juri cleaning the homeroom. With Yamada Daisuke.
It was a mistake. It had to be. The way the rotation went,
once you cleaned with someone you weren’t likely to be paired with that person
again for at least a month. Certainly not in barely a week. It was just a
mistake, I told myself again as I turned on my heel and marched straight into
homeroom. It would be straightened out.
To my relief, the classroom was empty save for
Akinawa-sensei, who was taking advantage of the early-morning quiet to correct
calculus tests. “Akinawa-sensei,” I began immediately as I strode to her desk,
“what’s with the cleaning schedule?”
Akinawa glanced up at me, eyebrows raised. “Good morning,
Juri. What’s the matter with it?”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “I’m cleaning
with Yamada again, sensei. I cleaned with him just last week. The science lab.
Remember?”
Akinawa frowned, and I could see the gears turning in her
head. “Oh, right,” she remarked at last. “Actually, I was in kind of a rush on
Saturday to get to an appointment, so I asked Watanabe-san to make it up for
me. I guess he didn’t look at the previous schedules.”
“Oh.” Now what?
Akinawa looked at me, her brown eyes concerned under
quizzical eyebrows. “Juri…is Yamada harassing you? You can tell me, you know.”
For perhaps the first time since I’d known her as a teacher,
I really, truly looked at Akinawa-sensei. And what I saw was a woman who knew
exactly what I was going through. She had been there. She understood.
Maybe I had judged her too harshly, that time when I caught
her and Daisuke. “I’ll be all right, sensei. Don’t worry about me.”
“You sure?” she asked worriedly. “I could change the
schedule, I suppose.”
I half-smiled. “Everyone’s already seen it, it wouldn’t be
fair. Really, don’t worry.”
Akinawa looked as though she wanted to argue more, but the
bell chimed and the door flew open for students to file in, chattering and
laughing, and I let myself be swept to my seat with the crowd. I knew what I
had to do.
continued.