FROM BAD TO WORSE
Posted by Barbanne on August 07, 2005 at 01:42:58:
FROM BAD TO WORSE
I was firmly stuck in a total dead end waitressing at a diner for two sleaze bag scumballs.
There had to be something better.
There was. I found out about good money being made on the women's boxing circuit. Hey, I was fairly fit and so I took some training and in no time at all I was ready to go get 'em.
I called myself Battling Barb and got myself a snazzy, skimpy red satin outfit and landed my first bout.
It was in a crowded, noisy, overlit, sort of cheesy stadium and my opponent was the up and coming Caitlin O'Kelly. Nobody much knew anything about her then, least of all me.
The bell rang and I came out with my gloved fists cocked the way I had been shown.
Caitlin bounced out and came at me like a minor whirlwind. She slipped under my guard and ripped a jab into my exposed ribs and followed that with another to the solar plexus. They were short, hard punches and they hurt like hell and took away my wind. My hands dropped down and Caitlin hit me on the left side of the head with a swinging round arm so packed with power that it spun me around and sent me skittering along on my toes clutching at the top rope for support. I banged into the corner post and bounced off the side ropes and back into the ring where Caitlin was waiting for me and she hit me again with a solid punch to the side of the jaw and my hands dropped to my waist and I couldn't remember why I was here, or for that matter, where here was. She hit me again with a short, brutal uppercut, flush on the point of my chin and I dropped to my knees thinking this boxing wasn't all it was cracked up to be and then, as Caitlin backed away, I flopped forward pancaking my tits, comatose and oblivious to lying there with my face resting in a puddle of my own slobber, drool and stringy snot while the referee counted me out. My mouth guard had slithered half out of my mouth on a tide of dribbly goozey and then stuck, making me gag reflexively.
Somewhere around the count of five I slid into blackness.
I woke up an hour and a half later, naked except for a ridiculous hospital gown, under a sheet in the emergency room of the nearest major hospital blackened and blued and with a fierce headache and being worked on by a heap of people. The doctor told me I had suffered a severe concussion.
They let me out the next morning.
One of the sleaze bags had collected my gear from the stadium dressing room and he took me back to the diner.
I took the day off.
He was pissed.
At home I took one look at my red satin Battling Barb outfit and dumped it in the laundry basket. I didn't care if I never saw it again.
I went back to the diner but on account of my concussion I kept passing out without warning.
First I went down in a heap of clattering tray, shattered crockery and two all day breakfasts.
The second time I nose dived across a table with another catastrophic shattering of china and ended up sharing the floor with a chicken schnitzel and a steak tartare.
The sleazebags sacked me.
I decided I'd try a life of crime.
With a total loser called Eddy I robbed the building society branch in the main street. Coming out with about fifty bucks (I was a crap criminal) we ran into two cops in a patrol car. Eddy shit himself and I made a run and the woman cop took a potshot at me which ricocheted off a lamp post and hit my leg and I went down and we got arrested.
As a first offender I got six months at the big women's prison out on highway one fifty about ten kilometres south of town.
Probably because I was a waitress I got assigned to the kitchens.
On my second day I finished up late and went to the shower block to wash away the grime of the day. I actually found some hot water and was luxuriating in that when the door opened and closed and then seconds later a big meaty hand reached in and dragged me dripping from the shower. I was looking at two big women, both wardens, One a massive black I knew was called Queenie and the other, a nameless slav, was her constant companion.
"Hey new girl, we come for our date." Queenie grinned at me with a full set of yellowing teeth.
I looked around terrified.
They had locked the door behind them.
The slav pinned me from behind in her gigantic forearms.
I screamed and shouted for help and wriggled and squirmed but they just laughed.
"I likes my wimmin feisty," said Queenie and the slav grunted.
They set in on me and I realised they had come prepared. For an hour they raped me mercilessly.
I screamed at first but very soon it became apparent that that was useless and I submitted in silence, going limp and doing nothing to make it easy for them.
When they had finished and gone I dressed and dragged my hurting body to my bed. I turned my face into my pillow so none of the other girls would hear me and sobbed myself to sleep.
The next morning I went to the nurse. She looked at my bruises and then at my red raw vagina and said, "Who did this to you girl?"
"Nobody," I said.
Two days after that I was finishing in the kitchen after serving breakfast. I was alone and had to clean up the remnants of a party the Superintendent had had the night before. The back door opened and I glanced around and Queenie walked in.
"You cool for our date tonight white meat?" she growled.
I said nothing and laughing she crossed to the inner door.
Redness clouded my vision and I picked up an empty champagne bottle left over from the party, one of those really thick glass walled ones. In two bounds I was across the kitchen and slammed it into the back of Queenie's head. She went down clutching the edge of a stainless steel bench.
"You fuckin' bitch," she shouted and I brought the bottle down again. She lost her grip on the bench and went down on her hands and knees and I swung the bottle again and again and again until she dropped face down onto the floor. I hit her a couple more times and then tossed the bottle in the trash. I put a white chef's coat over my prison work shirt and ripped the keys from Queenie's belt. She was leaking blood from the nose and I reckoned I had killed her dead.
I let myself out the back door and found an unattended laundry pick up truck and climbed into the back of that and buried myself under a pile of washed linen.
I waited, my heart pounding.
It seemed like forever but was probably only about twenty minutes and then I heard the door open and the driver got in, turned the engine over and the truck moved off. I heard him stop at the gate and talk to the guard and then we were through and clear. As we bounced down the road away from the prison I heard the sirens wailing behind us.
Maybe a half hour later the truck stopped and I shrank even more under my linen hideout. The driver opened the back door and dragged out a parcelled bundle of sheets. As soon as he left I scrambled across to the door, cracked it and peered out. We were stopped in a sort of strip shopping mall. With a quick look around I opened the door and jumped out and checked again. No-one was looking my way and I scuttled into a laneway between two shops. I was still wearing my prison work clothes with the white coat over the shirt and the first thing I had to do was get rid of these. I saw a women's clothing store two down from where I was and walked down the street and into that, nearly shitting myself for fear that someone would raise the alarm.
A girl about sixteen years old with badly disguised zits on her otherwise vacuously pretty face was sitting behind the counter looking bored and fiddling with her nails.
"Kin I help you?" She still looked bored.
I walked right up to her with my hand in my coat pocket forming a gun with my fingers and said, "Yeah, I'm robbing the joint and if you don't do what I tell you you're going down sister."
I tried to sound tough.
It must have worked as she stood up and said, "Ohmigod," and her eyes rolled way back inside the top of her skull and she fainted away cold. I caught her as she went down and sat her back, slumped on her seat.
I quickly grabbed some hippy jeans and some tee shirts and tops and slipping into a change cubicle kicked off my shoes and wriggled out of the prison garb, dropping it on the floor, and dressed in the jeans and top. I could hear the teen moaning and when I came out she was blowing spit bubbles and rolling her head around. I grabbed a store bag and dumped some nice undies in it along with my excess tops and tees and grabbed a corduroy jacket and looked over at the teen. Her eyes were rolling and she was nearly drowning in drool but she was still non compos. I went out past the change rooms and through a staff kitchen and found a rear delivery door and let myself out.
I scurried away down the back lane.
Now, I realised I needed money.
I walked back into neatly tree lined suburban streets and wandered along these until I saw a new looking house that shouted 'up market yuppies'. I walked brazenly up the paved drive between the manicured lawns and pressed the door bell.
The door opened and a slightly overweight, thirty something, attractive brunette looked at me and said, "Yes."
I was momentarily gobsmacked.
Except for a very sheer, ass huggingly short peignoir she was buck naked.
"Erm," I tried to recover, "erm, have you been saved sister?"
"Oh shit," she said.
"Well, have you seen the latest range of Avon then lady."
"What have you come here for girl?"
I tried tough again.
"This is a stick up lady. I've come to take money from you and if you don't give it to me I'll hurt you. I really will."
(I was a truly crap crim)
"Come in then," she said and I followed her inside open mouthed.
She went to where her handbag lay on a glass topped table in a minimalist modern living room and fiddled with that.
Then she turned around and she had a small, pearl handled gun in her hand and it was staring at my tummy with it's beady black eye.
"Strewth," I said.
"Now who was going to do what to whom sister?" she purred.
"Maybe I should go," I said.
"I don't think so," she said and coming up to me, tits to tits, she lowered the gun until it's barrel was pressing into my cunt and started undoing my belt.
"Hey lady this is getting out of hand," I mumbled.
She grinned and leaning into me kissed me hard.
I thought maybe now was the time to get out of this and grabbed for the gun and came up with her hand and the gun and she laughed and said, "This is fun," and I tried to get behind her and wrest the gun away at the same time and we struggled and I caught a handful of her big right breast and the gun slipped out and spun through the air, like in slow motion, and I watched it turning over and over and the woman held my hand to her breast and laughed throatily and then the gun landed on its handle facing us and the silly cow hadn't used the safety catch and it went BANG very loudly and my new found friend went saggy in my arms and I dragged her over and flopped her into a big white crushy leather lounge chair.
Her head was slumped forward as though she was trying to study her tits and her hair concealed her face. I grabbed a bunch of hair and hauled her head up so I could see her eyes. No-one was at home. No-one, zip, zilch, she was a goner. The bullet had hit her right dead centre between the breasts and she was as dead as day old meat. There was hardly any blood as she had died instantly. I looked down at her and then decided enough was enough. I grabbed a bunch of money from her purse and took the gun and stuck it in my pocket and fixed my belt and skedaddled out of there.
I made my way to the bus terminal and used the brunette's cash to buy a ticket and then got something to eat and used the can and waited around for my roadliner to leave. We quit the city about ten o'clock and I rode it out to the the town at the edge of the desert. You know the one. That place where the brothels are lined up one street back from the main street and where anything goes. I found a dump to doss in and the next morning I decided I would be needing more money and went and auditioned for a job at the flashy boozers along the strip. I was taken on by a sleazo at the pinkly decorated Dripping Pussy and started that night as a table top dancer. Even among all of the slaggy shielas plying their trade along the strip I soon got a reputation as the sluttiest of them all.
I'd do anything and did.
I gave the drunks and saddos the best simulated sex they'd ever seen and I showed 'em everything I had. I did my shows nude, skipping the skimpy spangles and teasy strips the other girls did and just got down and dirty, pure filthy actually, from the minute my music struck up.
I finger fucked, used a dildo and did blow jobs for guys on stage and earned heaps. I fucked myself with a banana and sailed real close with the cops all the time but the sleazo managed to keep them at bay with some "donations."
Then when I'd just about decided I had enough to get out and start anew somewhere else some old guy stuffed up my plans. He was a tourist, a real fatso, red faced and sweaty and liberal with his cash. He came and watched me perform three nights in a row and he always filled my groin with decent bills, mostly fifties. Then round midnight of the third night he spoiled it all when he showed up at the door to my shitty little room and he was drunk and he was amorous.
I told him to piss off but he got nasty and then he got aggressive and he used his bulk to push in and then he was all over me and he tore my stupid little dress off and I kneed him in the knackers and he got really red faced and angry as hell and I told him to shove it and he lost it and then he got lucky and sucker punched me and I went down and I was in cloud cuckoo land and was vaguely aware I was going to be raped again and then I must have passed out.
When I came to I was stark naked, my clothes in a heap of scraps strewn over the floor and fatso was naked too except for his socks and his surprisingly huge cock was inside me rigid and stuck fast and he was dead on top of me. From the florid look of his face and the horrible rictus contorting his features he'd had a heart attack or something.
I wriggled my way out from under him, put on my travelling clothes collected up all of my money and his which I took from his wallet and I caught the dawn bus out of town.
Fuck, things weren't going good.
I went back to the city and lost myself in the warrens of the west end.
Within a week I had moved into an OK flat with two brunettes. Kittie was the shorter and way the most curvaceous girl I knew and she worked as something to do with software design. Kellie, was tall and thin and had a long face and was a would be model. Both girls were pretty and really sweet and they accepted me as though we had been friends forever. I went back to waitressing. I guess I can be a bit dumb sometimes and don't always read things even though the signposts are right in front of me and so it came as a bit of a shock to me when one night, while we were all sitting watching telly, Kellie and Kittie started cuddling and then, before I had really absorbed it all, both were topless and pashing madly and while I tried to concentrate on re-runs of Sex in the City they began mutually masturbating and soon came to climax. Giggling they invited me to join in but I smiled and declined saying I didn't want to be corrupted by naughty girls like them.
I had seen Kellie with a sort of Mediterranean type called Dino and had always thought she swung that way so it really came as somewhat of a surprise.
I had insisted I didn't want to be corrupted by them, but I did and within a day or two I let myself be and strewth! did those two know something about making a girl happy.
Then it went bad again.
I came home early one night and as I used my key to open the front lobby door Dino nearly knocked me over as he rushed out. I called out, "Hey Dino what's ya hurry?" but he was gone into the night.
I went upstairs and the door was open and I called out to the girls telling them it was me but no-one answered and when I went in I could find no-one. Not that is until I went into the girls' bedroom. Kittie was lying on her back on the bed and Kellie was face down between her legs. Both were nude and Kellie's mouth was open on Kittie's cunt and I reckoned she'd been having herself a Kittie fur burger. Kellie had been shot in the back of the head and Kittie had been shot above her right eye. Both were stone dead, but so recently they were still twitching.
I panicked and grabbed my stuff and ran.
Terrified I'd be connected with the horror in the flat I knew I had to get rid of the pearl handle gun I'd taken off the dead woman I'd robbed. Not thinking, I fled the flat carrying my few possessions in a bag and the gun in my hand. The CCTV took wonderfully clear pictures of me.
I followed what unfolded from the newspapers in the next few days.
I was quickly identified from the security camera shots as an ex "boxer" and convicted, escaped criminal who was wanted urgently in relation to the killings of Kellie and Kittie and the woman who had shot herself and they had also connected me with the death of the guy in my room on the strip.
I was deep in shit.
The cops tracked me down relentlessly and now I'm here in this deserted warehouse and I can see armed police at the doors and overhead and everywhere and I know the only way they want to take me is to carry my bullet riddled corpse out of here.
That's why I'm telling my story to this little tape recorder so someone will know the truth.
They're in front of me and behind me and above me and I am not hearing any warnings being given.
I see the guns coming up.
This is going to be an execution.
I can see flashes as they all start to fir.....................................