TITLE    : The Sarah Owens Story Ch. 20
STORYID  : the-sarah-owens-story-ch-20
SUMMARY  : Sarah hears the worst news of her life.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2010-02-08
CATEGORY : bdsm-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |18-year-old|cheerleader|catholic|schoolgirl|spanking|lesbian|mascot|coach|costume|


<i>Note: This series is based upon an idea by Sarah Owens. The characters are 18 years old or older.</i>



* * *



A month had passed, and, now, at last, the National High School Cheerleading Competition was upon them, and the cheerleaders, under the tutelage of Coach Bigg and her assistant, Amanda Meeks, had boarded a school bus to travel to the site of the contest. Their coach assured them that first place was theirs for the taking "now that I've sidelined Owens as the mascot."



It was as cruel a remark as it was unnecessary, Sarah thought, curled up on her side, in the fetal position, inside her cage--and it was untrue, too. Sarah knew that she was by no means the squad's weakest link, and she knew that Coach Bigg knew it, too. Sarah was also pretty sure that the other girls knew it as well. Sarah might not have been the best cheerleader on the squad, but she sure as hell hadn't been the worst, either, and she didn't deserve to be the one whom Coach Bigg had "sacrificed" so that they'd have a mascot at the competition.



Sarah resented having, for all intents and purposes, been booted off the squad. She'd worked her ass off to land a position on the team, and she'd put as much effort as any of the other girls--and more than some of them--had into perfecting their drills, stunts, and routines. To have her spot on the squad yanked out from under her feet, only a few weeks before the big event of which she and the other cheerleaders had long dreamed, was more than unfair; it was monstrous.



It would serve the squad--and their coach--right if South Catholic High School wasn't awarded first place. Sarah almost hoped the squad would lose--almost, but not quite. The girls had worked too long and too hard to wish that on them. Besides, if South Catholic won, as it seemed they would, Sarah would also bask in the squad's glory, even if she'd been demoted from a cheerleader to the school mascot.



The trip was rough inside the wire-mesh cage, with only a thin blanket and the fabric of her lioness costume between her and the enclosure's floor, and with the other girls ignoring her, as if she didn't exist. On second though, though, Sarah supposed, being ignored by them was just as well. With the ball gag inside her mouth, and a muzzle over her lower face, she couldn't carry on a conversation with her friends, anyway (if the other girls were still her friends). Besides, most likely, they'd limit any verbal interaction with her to insults and jibes at her expense.



"Do you really think we have a chance?" Karen Lewis asked her girlfriend, Rachelle Thomas.



"Coach Bigg says we do," Rachelle answered. "That's good enough for me."



"We wouldn't have had a chance without her to show us the way," Debbie Penn declared.



"You know it," her lover, Cindy Baxter, agreed.



"Amanda was quite a help, too," Susan Davis observed.



"No doubt about it," Jennifer Adams seconded her significant other's opinion.



Becky James said, "We wouldn't have had any chance at all if Coach Chambers was still in charge."



"Thank God Principal Matthews canned her ass!" Crystal Rogers said.



"Instead of canning her ass, though," Marilyn Madison suggested, "Coach Bigg should have caned her ass."



The other girls laughed. Even Sarah had to snicker inside her lioness muzzle at her former girlfriend's joke. It was funny, after all.



"Yeah, maybe a ride aboard The Carousel would have shaped her up," Amanda proposed.



"You didn't even know her," Marilyn reminded the transsexual assistant coach.



"Maybe not, sweet cheeks, but I know your sorry asses, and, if this Chambers chick was your coach, even for a second, she sure as hell deserves any number of rides on The Carousel."



"Hey!" Marilyn protested.



Inwardly, Sarah winced. She didn't like hearing the shemale bitch refer to her ex- as "sweet cheeks," the pet name that Sarah had devised for Marilyn, when the two of them had been a couple, in honor of the redhead's perfect, callipygian buttocks. Marilyn had had a nickname for Sarah, too. She'd called her "trotter," because, Marilyn had explained, Sarah was "a hottie who was always hot to trot." To hear Sarah's term of endearment for the redhead for whom she still had feelings in the mouth of the vile and loathsome Amanda ("a man, duh!") Meeks brought tears to Sarah's eyes. She blinked them back. If she started to cry, she'd only draw unwanted attention to herself. In her cage at the back of the bus, she was out of sight, pretty much, and, therefore, out of mind. Ignored, she might be, but she was also spared the other girls' nasty jibes, taunts, and digs.



"Hey what?" Amanda asked, a mindless rejoinder, Sarah thought, to Amanda's protest about how "sorry" the cheerleaders had been under Coach Chambers' leadership.



"I'm glad you're my new girlfriend, trotter."



Trotter! Marilyn, her ex-, the traitorous bitch, had given Sarah's nickname to Amanda, a mere wannabe woman! Sarah couldn't believe her fucking ears!



"Shhh!" Amanda mockingly censured her girlfriend. "What if Sarah had heard you say that?"



"Who cares what that bitch hears," Marilyn said, and the couple kissed.



Sarah told herself that she would not cry, that she refused to cry, that she would not give Marilyn and Amanda the satisfaction of knowing how badly they'd hurt her--and, then, of course, she was crying, discreetly, of course, and quietly, but she was crying, nevertheless, bitter tears flowing down her face. Her heart was broken, and she felt miserable.



"I never loved her, anyway," Marilyn confided to Amanda, "not really."



"All right, listen up," Coach Bigg, standing in the aisle between the front seats stationed behind the driver, Mike Ryerson, who was also the boys' varsity football coach, and facing the rear of the bus, addressed the squad. "I want to remind you of the skills related to the elite level. Those for the advanced, intermediate, and beginner levels are of no interest to me or you, as we won't be performing any of them. You will perform exclusively at the highest level. The elite level includes liberty or liberty variations with above average--for us, that's superior--flexibility, all- girls single-based extended stunts, and basket tosses with twists or two positions." She paused, staring from one cheerleader to the next. After a moment, she called, "James! What dismounts will the judges be looking for?"



Without hesitation, Becky answered, "Single twisting dismounts from extended liberty variations without front spots and with maximum participation, double twisting dismounts from extended liberty variations with or without front spots, and single twisting dismounts from extended stunts with all girl-based stunting."



Coach Bigg nodded. "Good, James. Very good!"



Becky beamed. "Thanks, Coach."



The coach called upon Jennifer: "Adams, what will the judges be looking for in regard to elite level gymnastics?"



"Standing tucks, front tumbling, 'X'-outs, series passes with multiple elite skills, whips, layouts, and full twisting layouts. They'll also want to see jumps into back tucks and a hundred percent participation of the squad with intermediate skills or above and the majority with advanced skills or above. Numerous elite skills must be performed at a high level of execution and perfection."



"And what are we going to deliver?" Coach Bigg demanded.



"Perfection across the board, Coach!"



"Excellent, Adams!"



"Thank you, ma'am."



"Rogers, tell me what the squad's going to do in the dance category?"



"The squad will perform at the elite level, executing at a fast pace with several 'and' counts, showing a strong level of technique and difficult foot and body movements during transitions. We will demonstrate a strong use of moves, motions, and level changes to enhance the dance's visual effects and execute floor work that shows several level and formation changes."



"Outstanding!"



"Thank you, Coach."



"Thomas! What do the judges want from us in regard to jumps?"



"Toe touches, hurdlers, and herkies above waist level, pikes, around the worlds, and double nines at waist level or above. They'll expect combination jumps without preparation between them. We'll need to perform jumps with a back handspring or a back tuck attached to a jump sequence. All jumps must exhibit both strong execution and variety by the majority of the squad."



"Precisely! Good job."



"Thanks, Coach."



"If I have to remind you what the judges will be looking for with regard to pyramids or motions, we aren't ready, and we won't win. But we are ready, and we will win, ladies. Your routines' choreography will be smooth; transitions will be smooth and clean, without unnecessary crossing; you will show expression and enthusiasm, smiling and exhibiting confidence and poise throughout the entire routine; your voice projection will be strong, clear, and well enunciated; formations will show good use of the floor, alignment, and symmetry; each and every one of you will demonstrate a creative use of words, music, props, and choreography--and, at the end of the day, you will come home to South Catholic High School as this year's National High School Cheerleading Competition champions!"



The squad cheered, applauded, and whistled.



Sarah had ignored the pressure building on both her bladder and her intestines for the past half hour, dreading having to relieve herself in her cage, in front of all the other girls, Coach Bigg, and the bus driver, Coach Ryerson, but she could no longer hold either her urine or her feces. She pushed herself onto her knees. After a brief, but intense struggle, she managed to pull the oversize butt plug from her rectum, and she set the tail attached to it aside. She pulled a corner of her blanket back, and, squatting over the bare wire-mesh floor, urinated and defecated, repressing urges to grunt and groan.



As the turds squeezed out of her asshole and her piss trickled from her urethra, she hoped that her bowel movement and the voiding of her bladder might somehow go unnoticed. The others were pumped. Coach Bigg had done a great job in bolstering the squad's confidence, energy, and drive, so it was just possible, Sarah hoped, that the cheerleaders might be so caught up in their visions of glory that they'd not only forgotten the school mascot but might also not notice the sound of her trickling urine or her loud farts.



"Phew!" Jennifer cried. "What's that stench?"



Sarah felt her face warm as it flushed with blood.



"It smells like shit," Crystal declared.



"It is shit," Karen proclaimed. "Look! Sarah's taking a dump!"



Marilyn laughed. "Big dumb pussy!"



"'Big' is right," Becky agreed. "She's the size of a fucking lioness!"



The others chuckled.



"God, but that bitch stinks!" Amanda gasped.



Sarah was mortified. It was dreadful to have to relieve herself in such a revolting manner, squatting in the corner of her cage, in full view of her fellow squad members, like an animal. It was even worse to hear the girls' catcalls.



Coach Bigg called to their driver, "How much longer before we reach someplace where we can hose down Owens and her cage, Coach?"



Coach Ryerson glanced at his wristwatch. "Half an hour, Coach."



"Open the windows, girls," Coach Biggs told her charges. "Let's air out the bus before Owens chokes us to death on her shit."



They hadn't even reached the site of the nationals yet, and, already, Sarah had experienced what must surely be the worst day of her life, she thought. Nothing else could ever be as bad as the humiliation she'd experienced today.



"What are the nationals judges looking for with regard to mascots?" Marilyn asked their coach.



"Nothing," Coach Bigg replied. "Mascots are not allowed on the floor during competition at this level."



Sarah paused in wiping her ass with a corner of the blanket when she heard this exchange between her previous lover and the cheerleading coach. Her humiliation at pissing and shitting in front of the other girls, her coach, and the boys' varsity football coach-become-their-bus driver vanished in an instant. Instead of mortification, she felt nothing. At first, the shock of what she'd heard was so intense that it numbed her brain: "Mascots are not allowed on the floor during competition at this level," Coach Bigg had declared.



In that one statement, the coach had destroyed the last seven years of Sarah's hopes and dreams, if not her whole life! Sarah had become a cheerleader in fifth grade, and she'd been one every year thereafter, including this, her senior, year, always with the idea that, one day, she'd compete in the National High School Cheerleading Competition and win the first-place trophy. With Coach Bigg as the squad's leader, victory was in the squad's grasp. Unfortunately, if what Coach Bigg had said was true, Sarah wouldn't be part of what should have been the greatest, most joyful, moment of her life. As the school's mascot, she wouldn't even be allowed on the floor!



Unable to control her emotions any longer in face of such devastating news, Sarah sobbed. Her shoulders--her whole frame--shook inside the lioness costume, as she gave vent to the welter of confused emotions--shock, rage, grief, disbelief, hatred--that erupted inside her.



Hearing her blubber, Amanda said, "What the hell is the matter with the bitch now?"



"Maybe she can't get the plug back up her ass," Marilyn quipped, and the others laughed.

