Pam Foster & Carrie Cork, "A Mosh Pit of Two" (Perversion Level 2: Filthy)

Pam stood in front of the mirror in the ladies' room, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the top of her prom dress to make sure it wasn't too low. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. Mom had encouraged her, even insisted she go to prom but she was uncomfortable with the illicit sexualness of the whole evening. Students dancing closely, wearing dresses that showed off way too much, bodies gyrating and rubbing against one another. She'd rather have never come.

Suddenly, the door swung open with a **** that made Pam jump. Carrie stumbled in, her eyes half-lidded and a wicked grin plastered across her face. Her hair was mussed, and her dress hung loosely, as though she'd barely bothered to put it on.

"Hey, Pam," Carrie slurred, her voice thick with **** and probably marijuana. She walked to the sink in the bathroom, leaned against it, and stared straight at Pam with her eyes.. "You know, I've been thinking about you."

Pam didn't like the sound of that. Carrie was one of the many students she did her best to avoid, and hoped barely knew she existed.

"Ever since you played guitar at that talent show at school, I've been thinking about you.. " Carrie slurred

Pam blinked, her heart pounding in her chest. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She tried to keep her composure, but the combination of Carrie's state and the unexpected confession threw her off balance.

Carrie laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down Pam's spine. "I can't resist someone playing guitar. I get wet any time I see a guy play guitar... or a girl I suppose. But I figured you were so bland and boring that it wouldn't be the same with you. What can I say? I was wrong." Carrie licked her lips. "You made me very wet."

Pam's cheeks flushed crimson. She had indeed noticed Carrie staring at her during the talent show, but lots of student stared at her as she sang her Christian folk song. She knew they judged her... she just didn't think they judged her like that. "Carrie, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Carrie pushed herself off the sink and took a step closer to Pam, her eyes never leaving Pam's face. "Oh, I know exactly what I'm saying," she purred. "And I think you do too."

Before Pam could react, Carrie's hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist. The touch was electric, sending a jolt through Pam's body. She tried to pull away, but Carrie's grip was firm.

"Let go of me," Pam whispered, her voice shaking.

Carrie's grin widened. "Make me," she challenged, her tone taunting.

Pam's mind raced. Part of her wanted to scream, to call for help, but another part... another part was intrigued, drawn to the danger and excitement that radiated from Carrie. She'd spent so much effort trying to avoid any situation like this. And now it was happening. She felt herself leaning into Carrie's hold, her resistance weakening.

Carrie's other hand reached up, tracing a finger along Pam's collarbone, sending goosebumps skittering across her skin. "You like this, don't you?" Carrie murmured, her breath hot against Pam's ear. "You want this as much as I do."

Without waiting for a response, Carrie pulled Pam closer, their bodies pressing together. Pam could feel the heat radiating from Carrie's skin, smell the faint scent of **** and pot clinging to her clothes.

Suddenly Pam exploded, her hands flinging up, swinging at Carrie, doing whatever she could to push her back, and in doing so flailing backwards toward the wall. She made contact, her left hand with Carrie's cheek and for a moment felt guilty, then uncertain what the unstable girl would do about it.

Carrie laughed, "You'd be good in a mosh pit. Have you ever been in a mosh pit?"

Pam didn't know what a mosh pit was, so she stayed silent.

"I'll show you." Carrie said, quickly raising her right hand and bringing it down on Pam's face, open palmed with a loud flesh-on-flesh crack.

Pam howled.

But Carrie wasn't done. She did it again, slapping the same spot of Pam's face, even harder this time. Then again, this time with her left hand, the slap from the other side taking Pam by surprise. She gasped, too shocked to make a noise. It hurt. It really hurt.

Then Carrie cocked her fist and brought it just above Pam's left eye as hard as she could.

Pam was completely befuddled. She thought Carrie had been coming onto her. But now she was slapping and punching her. It didn't make sense. She just knew she wanted, needed, to get out.

But Carrie, despite being drunk and high, wouldn't let her pass, and Pam was simply too timid to lash out again. Instead she let Carrie take a step toward her, pressing their bodies together, pinning her against the wall.

"You'll have a black eye tomorrow. It'll be so fucking hot." Carrie's hand slid down the top of Pam's dress, cupping her right breast and squeezing it hard. "

"Please," Pam whispered, her voice trembling. "Please, Carrie."

Carrie opened her mouth, to say something, Pam thought. But it was actually to spit in her face. Pam's jaw dropped in shock, and quickly Carrie spit at her again, this time aiming right between her wide open lips.

"They do that in mosh pits too." Carrie chuckled, giving Pam's tit another good squeeze, then finally pressing her mouth against Pam's.

The initial contact was warm and wet, her tongue slipping between Pam’s lips with aggressive intent. Pam’s body stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy. But then, something strange happened. She found herself responding to Carrie’s advances, her own tongue tentatively seeking out the warmth of Carrie’s mouth.

But just as Pam began to lose herself in the sensation, a sharp pain shot through her tongue as Carrie bit down hard. A cry escaped Pam’s lips, muffled by Carrie’s relentless ****. Blood trickled into her mouth, the metallic taste mingling with the lingering sweetness of the kiss. Fear returned, and Pam’s heart pounded in her chest as she realized that she wasn't getting out of this bathroom until Carrie let her go.

“Come on, let’s have some fun1,” Carrie whispered, her voice dripping with malice. She grabbed the hem of Pam’s dress and yanked it up, exposing her underwear. Pam gasped, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself, but Carrie’s grip on her wrists was unyielding.

Panic surged through Pam, her mind racing for a way out. But before she could think of anything, Carrie’s hand cocked back and slapped her crotch hard. Pam started to let out a yelp, but Carrie's other hand quickly made it's way up to cover her mouth.

"I can tell you need a good cunt slapping." Carrie said playfully and wailed on Pam again.

Pam felt her entire body go numb. Her legs quaked and she thought she was about to collapse on the bathroom floor when Carrie quickly fell to her knees and, pulling her panties to the side, pressed her face up into her virginal slit.

It was wrong. It was so wrong. And yet the sensation of Carrie's tongue against her clit sent lightning through Pam's abused body. It came as no surprise that almost immediately Carrie big down hard on her stiff clit.

Pam was certain that nothing in her life had ever hurt so much. And finally she collapsed. But Carrie didn't let up, licking, biting, slapping. Pam's vision turned foggy as she laid there, letting it happen. It was Hell. But also something about it was heavenly. Her clit was being pleased and tortured and pleased and tortured. And so was her mind. She gave her body over to it. What else could she do?

She hadn't even realized that Carrie had stopped. She fluttered her eyes open and looked around and found herself alone in the room. Taking a deep breath she slowly rose to her feet, gaining her balance again, then looking at herself in the mirror. Her face was a mess, her flesh pink and bruised. She was, indeed, going to have a black eye tomorrow and she wasn't sure how she'd explain that.

At the moment she didn't care.

She stared at her own used up reflection and slowly her right hand found it's way between her thighs. She wasn't even sure why she was about to do what she was about to do. She just knew she couldn't stop herself. Her fingers found her aching clit and started to rub, watching her reflection as she fell from grace. Then she raised her left hand to the side and quickly brought it back, slapping her own face.

This was going to be a thing now. She couldn't escape it.

She rubbed. She slapped. She hoped no one came into the bathroom. But if someone had to, she hoped it was Carrie again.