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Message-ID: <47378asstr$1081638604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Imagineer <imagin8r47@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Cruel Summer 08 {Imagineer} (MF reluc viol exhib ScFi)
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Date: Sat, 10 Apr 2004 19:10:04 -0400
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Cruel Summer

copyright 2001-2004 by Imagineer.

comments to 
imagineer 47: yahoo green eggs com ham
but without the green eggs or ham

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Imagineer/www/


// 8: Parked


  Nobody had believed him. But here was the proof in his hot little
hands.

  The dumbass at Well-Mart almost kept them for himself. The little
perv. If Carl hadn't yanked him across the counter by his stupid little
Well-Mart polyester vest and threatened to cut his balls off with a
butter knife the brat probably would have gotten away with it too. Ya
do what ya gotta do. Faced with the prospect of being involuntarily
celibate for life, the pimple-faced cretin cavedand pulled the envelope
of prints out of his bookbag behind the counter. Carl didn't even have
to ask for both sets of the double prints.

  Note to self: don't mix business with pleasure. Next time your
half-sister gets drunk and takes all her clothes off, shoot the whole
roll; don't save a couple exposures for the morning after.

  But now it was those last two exposures he was interested in. A car
slammed into the front of a QuickMart, broken glass caught in mid-air.
And you could just make out the shape hanging in mid-air over the car.
It was a girl. Defying gravity.

  He'd seen the whole thing from across the street. He thought he was
going to get a hit-and-run in progress, but instead... this. And then
he was out of film as he watched this girl magically dodge a hail of
gunfire and kick the crap out of the two perps trying to hold up the
place. If only he'd had a fresh roll in the camera. If only his
half-sister had been less of a drunken whore the night before. Or a
little more of one. Oh well. 

  These two photos of the mystery super-angel were good enough until he
could catch her in the act again.

  He took one copy of his double prints and dropped them into the
envelope between two sheets of cardboard. Tearing the stolen Sharpie
out of its packaging, he scrawled PHOTOS DO NOT BEND on the envelope
and licked it shut.

  Now I'm gonna get *paid*.

  He slipped the envelope into the mailbox. The slot clanged shut with
a finality Carl welcomed.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  Angela hoped she was nearing the end of the path. Sounds of mid-day
traffic wafted up from the boulevard, but the thick stands of cypress
and high ivy-covered wall obscured any visual signs of civilization.

  Without warning, Angela felt strong arms grab her from behind; she
squealed in surprise. A sharp stiletto to the toe broke the attacker's
grip. She spun out of his arms, scrabbling for traction and balance on
the smooth, sloped walk. Unintentionally she stopped facing him.
  She recognized him instantly from the police sketch.
  "You! You're the rapist!"
  "Oh, a smart slut! Now come over here and let's do this nice so I
don't have to hurt you. I know you can't run from me. Hell," he
smirked, "you can barely stand!"
  Angela stood fixed to the spot, feeling angry and helpless at once.
"Fuck you!" she spat as words fail her.

  "That's the general idea, you stupid slut." 

  Angela gasped. The attacker responded, "Oh, don't get all huffy now.
Good girls don't dress like that, that Catholic-school-whore miniskirt
so short so everyone can see you wiggle your tight little ass, prancing
around on those stilts of yours, and wearing that bra-thing in broad
daylight with your tits spilling out, and just a couple of sleeves put
together from kitchen curtains like you couldn't afford the whole
shirt, wafting around in the wind like angel's wings with sparkly
things on the ends, 'oh look at me I'm so helpless, you want me but you
can't have me'... and what the fuck is up with the beauty queen crown?
You're just fucking *begging* for it, taking the 'shortcut' through the
park..." 
  He continued ranting, but Angela had stopped listening.

  Crown? Her tiara! Her wrist gems! Her fear evaporated. She wasn't
helpless. She was still Sapphire. Maybe she couldn't jump and kick --
heck, she couldn't move -- but she could still knock the stuffing out
of this turkey.

  "Shut up!" she yelled, cutting off his rant in mid-sentence.
  "What the fuck? You really *are* a stupid slut!" He pulled a knife
out of one jacket pocket and a pair of handcuffs out of the other. "I
don't *have* to be nice, cunt! Now turn around!" He took a step toward
her, ignorant of the complete lack of fear she displayed.

  She reached up and slapped him. Hard. The attacker nearly fell to one
knee, dropping the knife.
  "You STUPID BITCH!" he yelled, one hand rubbing his bright red cheek.
  "Who's the stupid one here?" Sapphire yelled right back. "You attack
a woman in broad daylight? Four blocks from the police station?" She
spots a lumpy canvas bag marked "Bank of USA." "After holding up a
bank?"
  The man was taken aback, stunned to the point of actually correcting
her. "I didn't hold up the bank, I'm not stupid. I robbed the library."
  Sapphire burst out laughing, nearly knocking herself over in the
process. The stress of the situation and what she'd gone through in the
last twenty-four hours was too much, and she needed an outlet. "Oh my
God, the LIBRARY? What, is MILK MONEY extortion not what it used to
be?" She laughed almost uncontrollably.

  The would-be rapist's anger boiled. He leaped up and punched her
viciously in the jaw. Sapphire went sprawling to the ground, her heels
scratching ineffectually at the pavement. The ties of her bustier had
loosened and her breasts came spilling forward, exposing her nipples as
the top corners of the satin fabric flapped loosely.
  Her attacker lunged down on top of her; she heard the metal handcuffs
clank against each other. No! She squirmed furiously trying to crawl
out from under him as he struggled to keep his weight on her, keep her
from getting away, and find her wrist with his hand.

  Sapphire turned over onto her back underneath him, both denying him
her wrist and improving her position. He looked down on her with mad
glee; this one's a fighter! She felt the bulge in his pants as he
pressed his weight down on her thighs, his legs trapping hers, going
for the pin. With one arm trapped behind her back and his cuffs
clanking as he reached for her other arm above her head, it didn't look
good.

  But she was hardly finished. Her free hand blasted away at the cuffs,
sending them flying and driving his arm back at a painful angle. She
drove her open palm hard up at his shoulder, making contact with a
burst of blinding light; she heard the snap of bones breaking as he
flew up off her and twisted around in the air, landing like a bag of
meat.

  Sapphire got to her knees, then slowly pushed herself up. He looked
up at her between winces of pain; his shoulder felt like someone drove
a hot poker right through it. She just stood, nostrils flaring, a look
of... gleeful vengeance on her face, as if he were the one daring to
defy her. Her chest heaved, the bustier merely cradling her firm
breasts, curiously-hard nipples indicating the arousing side-effect of
the half-depleted gems' energy coursing through her. The skirt, waist
snapped loose, draped low on her hipbones, drawing taut the outer
portion of the trick waistband and raising the stiff pleats outward.
His gaze uncontrollably dropped from her heaving tits to her crotch,
gaping at the cleft of the tiny triangle of tight satin. The wet spot
was plainly visible.

  She took a step toward him, unfreezing his brain from its confused
lust. His working hand frantically grabbed at the ground, finding a
riverbed stone small enough to grab as a weapon. He pushed himself up
off his knees to face her, his rage at the slut's defiance overwhelming
his judgement of his odds. He lunged forward, bringing the
grapefruit-sized oblong rock down toward her head. She raised her arm
to block but lost her footing and slipped. The rock connected with the
side of her skull with a terrible hollow Crack! Sapphire tumbled to the
ground, and the man's momentum caused him to stumble over her, falling
to his hands and knees above her head. His broken shoulder crumbled
under the load of his body, sending new bolts of blinding, immobilizing
pain. He turned around on his knees to face her prone form. For a
moment he'd thought he'd gone too far; surely the small boulder would
have crushed in her skull. He'd have to hide her body. No, he'd have to
run. But the girl stirred! He looked at her more closely. Had he
missed? Did she just fall? 

  Her head looked unscathed. The man looked about frantically for the
handcuffs. Where were they? Behind her, behind him, in the rocks? He
saw the rock he'd hit her with, broken neatly into three small chunks.
It must have broken when it hit the ground, he thought. Where were the
damn handcuffs? He only had one good arm now, but he wasn't about to
let the bitch get away with it. Fuck it. She was out cold, or close
enough to it.

  The injured rapist clambered around behind her, rolling her from her
side onto her stomach. He grabbed her by the waistband of the skirt,
yanking her limp body up onto her knees and back onto her haunches. He
ripped open his velcro fly; his stiff cock snapped to attention in the
open air. Seeing the hole in her panties, he stuck his fingers in and
ripped them open violently with two quick jerks. The knot on one hip
came undone and they flapped uselessly to the other side. He reached
around her thigh, holding her up to him as he guided himself into her
wet snatch.

  "Oh, fuck, baby, why'd you have to be such a *bitch*?" he said,
punctuating the question with a sharp thrust. This cunt was young and
tight, just the way he liked it; in a minute he'd be done with her. The
pain of his wrecked shoulder only made his slow thrusts more vicious,
yanking her back into him like a rag doll.

  Sapphire began to come around. Her pussy was overwhelming her
energy-heightened senses; ohh, this was a good dream. She began to
support her own weight, propping herself up on her elbows.

  "Back to the land of the living, eh *slut*?" He was pumping with a
steady motion now. 

  My this was a good dream. So dirty, so helpless, so willing... and it
seemed so real... her jugs moved up and down her body as she pushed
herself back on the marlevous, pulsing prick...

  ...and then she felt the marauder suddenly stiffen. No! She wasn't
finished! She thrust back furiously, frustratingly, trying to milk more
action out of the fading intruder. "Come on, don't stop!" she heard
herself moan.

  The sound of her own voice shook her into the realization that this
was *not* a dream. She froze, her body's sexual heat in conflict with
the sudden shame she felt at her lewd public display.

  The rapist pulled out with a wet plop.

  Sapphire's vaginal muscles spasmed in frustration as she fell forward
onto her chest. She rolled over, her hand snaked down, fingers teasing,
then vigorously rubbing her clit in a vain attempt at satisfaction.

  The man picked up his bag of money. Heavy change shifted and clinked.

  Sapphire rubbed harder, faster, her hips thrusting up at a phantom
lover. No, don't leave me like this. I'm close...

  He eyed her quizzically, then picked up his knife. This was the first
chick he'd bagged that wanted more. They usually just curled up and
cried.

  "You're such a fucking slut," he spat.

  The words burned her ears. Something within her raging sapphire-fed
hormones fought for control. She was *not* a slut. She just needed...
to cum... so close...

  He walked around her, standing beside her head as she knelt before
him. As he looked down on her, this bitch who'd fucked up his shoulder,
she seemed oblivious, her face contorted, searching for sexual release,
her bare breasts moving in quick circles as she shook, her arm a blur
between her legs.

  No... she couldn't cum... if she came she'd just be...

  "Just a horny little slut. Good for nothing but getting fucked." 

  No!

  Suddenly Sapphire's eyes opened wide; she pulled her hand from
between her legs. She was *not* a slut! Her gems flickered hotly. She
was a superheroine. And if this little worm couldn't satisfy her, she
wasn't going to let him get away with using her.

  Her hand shot up, blasting his ankle out from under him; he fell hard
to his knees with a sick bone-crunching sound. In a flash she grabbed
her assailant by the hair and yanked his face down toward hers. "You
pathetic bastard!" she screamed; his eyes involuntarily blinked with
the force of her voice. He pulled back, rearing up on his knees and
swinging his good arm down to hit her.

  Her other hand shot up, blocking his fist with her wrist. He felt his
fingers shatter. Sparks of bluish light marked the impact. 

  Sapphire pushed back on his head, rolling him over onto his back.
"Look what you did to me! I am *not* a slut! You did this! YOU!" As she
got up, he rolled over and began crawling/scrambling away, looking over
his shoulder at her in fear. "You're one crazy fucked-up bitch!" he
said, his voice wavering as he crabbed his retreat. She stopped and
turned away from him, walking the other direction. He stopped, too,
mystified. She bent down carefully, picking something up off the rocks
a few feet away. His handcuffs. "Over by that pole!" she ordered,
motioning to the exercise bars to his left.

  "Fuck you, bitch! I'm not letting you collar me!" He managed to get
to his feet, grimacing as his shapeless shoulder and shattered fingers
competed for attention. He'd done what he came here to do, what he was
compelled to do; he'd fucked another worthless bitch who teased and
teased and teased. It wasn't his fault she enjoyed it. And he wasn't
about to let her guilt get him busted. He turned and began walking
unsteadily away.

  He heard her heels click and scratch and slide over the smooth cement
behind him. "Give it up, you stupid slut, you can't catch me," he
called out over his shoulder.

  Just feet ahead of him, the riverbed rocks on the high side of the
path exploded in a tumbling mini-rockslide. He stopped for a second.
How'd she do that? No matter. "Your tricks don't scare me, slut."

  "Not... one... more... step..." her voice was shaking, not with fear,
but with anger.
  "Fuck you," he said, and took a step.

  He felt a hard shove on his bad shoulder, spinning him around; the
pain was excruciating. "Arrgghh!" he screamed. He turned to see her
standing, legs shoulder-width apart, one hand on her hip, top pulled
down, see-through skirt flared up, and mad as hell. Her other hand was
cocked, palm forward in a "stop" gesture. He backed away. She jabbed
her palm toward him as if throwing a punch -- huh? He found himself
doubled over, breathless with a stab of pain to the center of his
chest. He looked up at her, scared and confused. She flicked her arm as
if slapping him; twenty feet away he felt the slap, supernaturally
hard, knocking him back on his butt.

  Sapphire approached him slowly, and tossed the handcuffs at his feet.
"Now, you will handcuff yourself to that pole there, or things will get
*ugly*." She was breathing hard, as if she'd sprinted a
hundred-yard-dash. But she was in control now, though it took all her
concentration, she focused on her anger, denying the delicious flame of
energy that licked at her most sensitive areas.

  He sat, his eyes wide with fear. He started to get up; he had to run!

  But she hit him again, a glancing blow to his good arm, knocking his
broken hand into the rocks behind him. And again on his bad shoulder,
knocking him on his back, rocks lodged painfully underneath him. His
body wracked with unbearable pain, he couldn't move.

  Sapphire stood over him, studying his tortured face. "You... are a
worthless slimeball," she said between deep breaths. She gave him one
last force-punch to the groin; his face twisted anew but he remained
still.

  Sapphire stepped over him gingerly, using her gems to help maintain
her balance as she picked through the riverbed rocks strewn across the
path.

  Just before the park entrance, she hiked up her bustier and tied it
as best she could with her trembling fingers and long nails, then hiked
up the skirt, hitching it to the garter straps by the short hanger
straps inside the waistband. The panties were just useless shreds; she
reached under the skirt, untied the remaining side and let them fall to
the ground.


  Angela let herself sink into the bathtub's hot suds. What happened at
Josh's was bad; the library even worse. But instead of redeeming
herself when she had the chance, she let herself be taken by a low-life
scum. And she enjoyed it. True, the gems had saved her in a way, but in
a way they just allowed her to be violated in a way the other victims
hadn't. Instead of rising to the challenge, she'd let another
stranger... have sex with her. And then when he didn't... satisfy her,
she'd beat him up and left him behind. She was just as bad as he was.
Maybe worse.

  But you stopped him, she told herself. You captured him. He didn't
walk away. He didn't get away with it.

  Only because he was stupid. He still beat you. He still... fucked
you. And you liked it.

  Some superheroine. Some crimefighter. More like superwhore, creamy
fucktoy.

  Unable to wash away her shame, Angela cried herself to sleep in the
warm suds.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  Josh couldn't believe his luck. He'd been heading home after a quick
trip to Slim's for a score and he'd seen the most amazing body he'd
seen in weeks, strutting through the Mission District like it was a
strip club. Not that he'd been to an actual strip club, but he'd seen
"Stripped to Kill" enough times on Cinemax to know what it'd be like.
She was even dressed like a stripper. And then he stopped, and she
asked him for a ride, and he convinced her to stop at his place, and
his patented gearshift move closed another deal. 

  And to top it all off, the "stripper" turned out to be his ex,
Angela. The one who'd been kind of sweet and plain, and instead of
blossoming into a sex-crazed hottie like the sweet ones were supposed
to once they finally got a taste of man-meat, she'd just kind of laid
there the two times they did it so he'd dumped her. Apparently he just
hadn't waited long enough for the petals to open. Last night proved it
would have been worth the wait. 

  But that was okay; if last night wasn't enough to make her come
crawling back for more, she'd probably come back for another round or
two just to keep him from blabbing to her friends. After all, he had
the proof in the panties she'd left behind. And the polaroid he'd taken
last night of her passed out naked on his couch. He'd be making up for
lost time soon enough. And this time he'd get lots of pictures. And
video. Maybe he'd even put them up on his web site. Or maybe with the
right costume changes he could sell them to one of those fetish pay
sites. Maybe even make enough to finally get those Flowmasters on his
classic 5.0.

  He found Angela's number in his Palm handheld. "Time to put the
wheels in motion," Josh said aloud as he reached for the phone.


   


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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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