Posted by Barbanne on November 27, 2001 at 21:57:16:
So here's a new story as promised.
I guess wandering around at three am isn't the smartest thing a young girl can do.
And it was hot!!
I mean hot!!
One of those hot humid nights with almost no breeze and so sticky and steamy that just changing your mind brought you out in beads of perspiration.
I had a pair of denim cut offs on and a loose cotton tee shirt. No bra (too hot) and cotton bikini panties and high top sneakers. My tee shirt kept glueing itself to my sweaty torso and I twitched it clear only to find that it had immediately restuck itself to my front or back or someplace else. My stuff, all that important stuff you can't go anywhere without, lipstick, a small squirter of perfume, eyeliner, mascara, condoms, bandaids, tissues all of that sort of stuff I had in a little fluro pink bag around my waist.
I was the night roamer.
The girl who wandered through the darkened streets fixing up things that needed fixing up. After studying until about eight I had crashed with my bedside alarm set to go off at eleven. When it clanged me awake, I had staggered upright, splashed water into my face, repaired it, tugged my hair through a scrunchie to keep it out of my face, dressed and come out onto the dark, lonely streets.
I found a guy, a college student, wandering alone after being dumped by his girlfriend.
I came up to him, hugged him, kissed him and let him grope me some before walking him back to his frat house. I fix lonely people like that.
The woman was standing in her kitchen drinking from a bottle.
Her misery came out to me in waves and I knocked on her window and she looked at me out of bleary drunken eyes. I jerked my head towards her door and she let me in and I hugged her while she sobbed and sobbed and then I took the bottle and helped her upstairs and got her out of her clothes and into her bed.
I'm good like that.
Me, the night roamer.
The angel of the night.
The old guy looked like a loser.
I saw him a couple of hundred metres away, under the light from a streetlamp, pushing his supermarket trolley along. He didn't seem to have much inside it only a few things lying in the bottom and despite the heat of the night he had a filthy old overcoat flapping around him. I felt sad for him.
A car came along and I stood in the shadow of a street tree until it passed and then set out again.
That's when I saw the old guy down on the footpath. He was lying on his back beside his trolley arms and legs spread.
Might have had a turn though.
Like an epileptic fit or a seizure or something.
I watched him for a bit but he didn't move.
I thought I better investigate.
I crossed over and walked toward him. He was spreadeagled on the pavement and even from ten metres away I could smell him. He had busted tennis shoes on his bare feet and old trousers that had once been part of a suit and a filthy singlet and that damned coat.
Wow he stank.
When I got close I bent over and looked at him.
He had about four days growth of whiskers and unkempt, filthy hair and his face was blotchy and red. His eyes were closed and he was blowing through his nostrils like phlphlphlphlpphh........
At least he wasn't dead.
I bent closer wondering what to do.
Maybe I should give him mouth to mouth. Yikes, just the thought of it made me grimace and shrivel up. I mean even the angel of the night draws the line somewhere.
I bent closer and saw the movement from the corner of my eye.
His arm was swinging upward with a bottle clutched in his hand and I thought "bastard!" and then the bottle crashed into my skull just forward of my ear and lights exploded in front of my eyes and then everything went dark grey melding into black.
When I came to, I was in his trolley.
Bent almost double from my head to my butt with my legs dangling out of the front. Rubbish, old cans and stuff was digging unmercifully into my back. My head hurt like hell. The old bastard had knocked me out and dumped me into his cart.
When you're dumped in a cart like that its hard to get out. I mean there's nothing to grab onto or lever yourself with and I figured if I tried he'd only brain me again before I got halfway upright. I decided to play possum.
He wheeled me along making no attempt to hide or anything. A couple of cars went by and I saw a cleaning truck in one of the side streets, but if anyone thought it was strange for an old guy to be wheeling a supermarket trolley with an unconscious girl in it along the night time streets they sure didn't show anything. That's how the city is nowadays.
I reckon it sucks.
But right at this stage I had more to worry about.
Like what was this dude up to?
He wheeled me into darker and darker streets and then into the park by the river. Right about now I was starting to get really nervous. I reckoned he was going to hurt me, probably rape me at least and then...?? I didn't want to think about that. I decide I had to make a break.
He stopped on the grassy bank by the old bridge that crosses the river near the college and tilting the trolley, tipped me onto the grass and stomped his foot on me. All I needed was an opening and I was off. I decided to keep playing possum until my chance came.
He hoisted me up and dumped me over his shoulder. My arms dangled down and my pony tail swung loose and I pretended to still be out cold and my butt stuck upward across his shoulder and my cut off shorts rode up exposing my buttocks.
He carried me toward the bridge and as he did, he shouted, "Come an' git it."
About six more of the deros appeared from under the bridge. Dressed like scarecrows and gibbering together they came at the run.
"Come an' git it," that was enough for me. I started wriggling and thumping him and almost got free and then all of the gang arrived and we went down into a struggling heap. I fought like mad under this mass of smelly humanity but two of the horrors turned out to be women and they sat on me punching me while the men kicked me around some. They dragged me down under the bridge into the black darkness and while two of the men held down my arms and legs, the women stripped me naked and tied my wrists and ankles with nylon cord, like a clothesline that maybe they had swiped from somebody's yard, and when I tried yelling for help they stuffed my own bikini panties in my mouth and tied it shut with more cord.
They had booze and they were swigging it while the guy who originally nailed me went through my bum bag and one of the women fingered my clothes.
The other woman was running her hands, which were covered by filthy fingerless knitted gloves, over my thighs and breasts.
"She's purty scrawny," she advised the others, "But she'll roast up nice."
Oh Geez they were going to eat me.
I was in deep shit.
There were actually five of them.
Two horrible women with gappy blackened teeth and stringy unwashed hair and three men. The guy who had clobbered me and bought me here and two others. They were all drinking from two brown paper wrapped bottles which passed back and forth between them. The guy who had got me out there on the street finished with my bum bag and, snarly because he hadn't found anything of value (like cash or credit cards) in it, he came over to where I lay bound and gagged on my back and splashed hooch over my pubics and held an old cheap plastic lighter over me, flame guttering.
I got awfully squirmy.
"Mebbe I'll burn ya now girlie, see how ya sizzle."
"Leave her," shouted one of the crones, "and mind where yer wasting fuckin' good booze."
"Yair leave her be," said the other, "Maisie and me'll knock her out in a while and then we kin all eat."
I was definitely squirmy and felt frightened I was going to embarrass myself in front of these retards.
The crones had tied my hands in front and the trolley guy dragged me up by the clothesline and hooked it over an old rusty iron bridge stanchion and looped it around some and tied it off leaving me hanging with my feet barely touching the ground.
He grabbed my face and kissed me all whiskery and foul alchoholic breath and tried to force his tongue into my mouth. I kept my lips tight shut and he reeled back and belted me Whack!! across the cheek.
I was definitely in trouble.
I hung around so to speak while they drank some more.
My pubic bush was horribly itchy and sticky and matted where the grog had landed in it.
If anything it was even more close and humid under the bridge than outside. Sweat was popping out of my pores and coursing down my naked body. It sheened me everywhere and trickled down the slopes and curves of my body, dripping steadily from my nipples and adding to the misery of my wildly itching groin. My hair was matted and lank and hung stringily from its scrunchie. The sweat kept getting in my eyes and I yearned to wipe it away if I had only had a free hand. My arms ached and my whole body, stretched painfully as it was, hurt abominably. My mouth felt vile and I ached to spit but my own panties blocked any hope of that. I could taste myself in the sodden cotton and that was disgusting too.
The slags were drinking steadily and I seemed to be forgotten just for now.
I tried to formulate a plan to save myself from becoming their main course but such was the agony of my situation that I was unable to focus my thoughts for any length of time.
I realised I was drifting a bit and jerked myself upright desperate not to slide into unconsciousness.
One of the hags gazed over at me, the one who wasn't Maisie.
"Soon, girlie," she said, "soon me and Maisie's coming over there and then whack right between the eyes and its goodnight girlie, hello roast dinner."
She cackled hideously.
"Whaddaya reckon?" she asked of no-one in particular.
"Yeah Gert, yeah," they mumbled with no great enthusiasm.
The drink was winning and one after the other they subsided into bundles of filth and started snoring.
Soon all five seemed to be asleep and I decided now or never.
I struggled and wrenched at my bonds but nothing gave in the slightest.
I wriggled like a hooked fish for maybe twenty minutes and only succeeded in becoming saturated in my own sweat and even more itchy and gross. One plus, so much sweat was oozing out of me that it must have been emptying my bladder too.
Then one of the bundles moved.
It was a younger guy, I had seen him earlier.
He got up slowly rubbing his eyes and came over to where I hung. As he arrived at me he glanced back to where his four companions were snoring stertorously. He snorted and then turned to me.
"Now honey how's about some fun?"
"What's that you say honey?"
I mmphed again loudly.
He hooked a filthy finger with broken nails under which God knows what germ farms lived, under my gag and pulled it down a little.
"Untie my hands and I'll make it good for you handsome."
"Don't shit me babe."
"Please I mean it. Untie my hands and I'll give you sex like you've only imagined."
He rubbed a finger over his stubbled jaw.
"Won't try anything funny?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die."
"You'll run away."
"I won't. Promise."
He rubbed again and looked at me. A gust of his boozy breath hit me full on and I felt my knees go watery.
Looking like he wasn't sure but with pure animal lust in his eyes he untied the cord where it looped over the stanchion and eased me to the ground. My panties were down around my throat like a neckerchief and he lay me on my back and slowly untied my wrists. When he loosened the bonds blood rushed into my hands and my fingers screamed in burning pain. Ignoring it as best I could, I groped at his trousers and found a zipper. I gazed up at him with what I thought was my most seductive leer. (given I didn't look quite my best) I found his disgusting prick lying half aroused and as I touched it it twitched and started to stiffen. He looked at me from lidded eyes and I went down on him. Praying for strength I took him into my mouth and bit down hard.
Not really a scream, more of an indignant squeal.
I tasted coppery blood and when I looked up his eyes were shut and he was squealing and grunting asthmatically.
The others snored on.
I scrabbled around with my fingers for anything to use as a weapon and found what felt like a broken brick. I closed my fingers around it and lifted it up and smashed it into his face. It was jagged where it had broken and it sliced into his mouth splitting his lip apart and I saw white teeth exposed and then blood gushed and he toppled over whimpering.
I struggled with the rope around my ankles and finally pulled it free. I brought the brick down again on the whimpering retard. It made a noise like a juicy melon being dropped and he slumped down. I jumped up and rushing through the others I grabbed up my shorts, my bum bag and my shirt and fled. I heard them snuffling awake.
I ran like a mad thing, stark naked and clutching my stuff to my chest. When I had almost reached the streets again I paused and looked back. I couldn't see any of the trolls. I jumped around on one leg pulling on my shorts and then tugged my shirt on and looked back again. Three of the horrors were stumbling around searching for me. Waiting no longer and despite being bare footed I fled.
I was back before midnight the next night.
Ok, so you think I'm a complete nut!
It was just as hot and steamy as it had been the night before. I had the same cut offs and tee shirt on and had gotten a new pair of trainers to replace the ones that now lay somewhere down there under the bridge. Unless, that is, one of the retards had small enough feet to get in to them. I also had a back pack with something special inside it.
I had recced and discovered that only four of the bridge trolls were down there. The trolley man was out somewhere probably looking for dinner. I found a good spot in amongst the trees of the park where I couldn't be snuck up on and settled down to wait.
Along about two am the trolley man turned up wheeling his cart in front of him. I was pleased to see no evidence of a limped out girl draped inside it, only various junk that he had collected on his rounds. I waited for a while to let him get settled.
I took the skorpion out of my back pack and set it for rapid fire. Not automatic, rapid fire would be quite quick enough for what I wanted.
I crabbed my way down to where they lurked under the bridge. All five were there now. As before they were drinking and well along with that. I suspected it was their normal condition.
I walked to the side of the bridge the skorpion cradled in my arms.
"Evening low lifes," I said.
They looked up blearily.
"The fuckin' gal," said trolley man and lurched at me.
I squeezed off a round and it smashed into his chest. He went down hard glooping blood.
"Bitch!!!" screamed Maisie and I shot her between the eyes. She died in a tumble of rags. The other dame hollered and I shot her through the tummy. She flopped over and started flapping around like a landed fish. I shot the other two somewhere in the upper body. Stooping I came into their stinking den. Trolley man was dead as was Maisie. The other dame was still heaving and writhing. I looked at her. She was only maybe in her twenties. I put the skorpion next to her temple and blew her brains out. The young guy who had molested me (boy had I ever made a mess of his face with my brick) lay on his back groaning and bleeding and I shot his balls off.
I shot him dead too.
I finished the last guy and then skedaddled.
The gun had sounded like a succession of backfires but someone would be along to check soon and I didn't want to take the credit for my work.
I recovered my back pack and wrapped the hot gun in an oily rag and dumped it inside.
Then I walked across the park and back to the streets.
I heard sirens getting closer and closer.
So now I still roam the night time.
Angel of the night that's me.
Of course even angels got to get down and dirty sometimes.
I like to do good and doing good sometimes means doing away with evil.
I roam the streets in the dark.
Look for me.
The chick with the bouncy pony tail walking alone in the dark, that's me.