He Got What He Deserved : (c) Joyce Hamilton  MF nc

'Oh my God! My bag's gone. Shit! I feel so stupid. I left it here while we 
danced. Oh shit!'

'Hard luck! Much in it?' Her partner was thinking, 'What an airhead. 
Leaving her purse like that. Nice tits, nice arse, nice legs, but airhead.'

'No credit cards. Just a few quid. And my keys. Look, I've had enough. Lend 
us a tenner for the cab. I've got spare keys. Doesn't seem much fun now.'

Josh had just finished his shift as bouncer and was going to get his coat to go 
home, early as it was Friday. The girl's bag just begged to be lifted. No-one 
was watching as he grabbed it, hid it under his jacket and walked out to the 
locker room. He let himself into the staff toilet and checked it out. Lipstick. 
Condoms...the sexy bitch. Ten pounds, no credit cards. What's this? No, just 
a student union card. Photo on it. She's certainly a looker though. Petite, with 
long blonde hair. Keys. An address on the card. He sat there thinking. An 
idea was forming in his evil mind.

                                                  ..................................................

Lurking in the bushes Josh heard the taxi draw up. 

'Want me to come in?'

'Not tonight, Charles. I really couldn't. It's really stirred me up having my 
purse nicked. I wouldn't be much good.'

Josh watched them kiss briefly, before the guy got back in the taxi. As the 
girl lifted her arms to his shoulders, her dress rode up to show the sexiest 
little white bikini panties. The couple  separated. Josh watched the guy adjust 
his trousers before getting back into the cab. Like the lurking Josh, he, too, 
had a hard cock. Josh smiled to himself, and adjusted his own cock, rubbing 
its familiar shape. The girl tripped lightly up the steps, and for a moment 
Josh thought he had been spotted as she stepped into the bushes right in front 
of him. A slim white arm reached out and turned over a muddy flower-pot. 
As she leaned over he could see the cleavage of her breasts, white in the 
moonlight. Her fingernails had glittery nail varnish. He crouched back further 
into the shadows.  The spare key was under the pot, and he breathed again 
when he heard her step up to the door and let herself in. As the door opened 
she was silhouetted against the light, and he could see she would be just 
perfect for him. Tiny, but with lovely legs, and her dress did not hide the pert 
prettiness of her tits, and her perky, jutting bottom. Blonde hair to the bare 
shoulders. The taxi drew away.

He gave her ten minutes. There were two keys. One marked "3" must be the 
flat, and the unmarked one would be the front door. He rubbed his cock in 
anticipation.

                                ..............................................................

The flat was still warm from the sun that afternoon, and Julie did not need to 
light the gas fire. She poured herself a gin as consolation for the ruined 
evening. She felt sorry for herself. But then she looked at herself in the long 
mirror. She took a long gulp, and the spirit burned her throat. She lit a 
cigarette and switched on the television.

Josh  let himself in, his heart beating. Was it lust or fear? Probably both. 
Anyway, he was still hard as he unlocked the flat door...no chain thank 
goodness...and shut it gently behind him. He could hear his prey walking 
about in the next room, talking to herself. 

The door was ajar, but he could not see her yet. At the end of the corridor he 
could see a sink.
Kitchen! He slipped across to the tiny kitchen, and sure enough there was a 
large knife on the rack. He grasped it.

There was a pair of stockings thrown slovenly onto the floor. Ideal. He 
slipped one over his
face. Back now to the living room door. He opened it gently another six 
inches. Now he could see her. She had finished a cigarette, and got up to stub 
it out in an ornate ashtray on the table. She slipped the straps of her silver 
mini-dress over her arms, and let it fall to the floor. Josh rubbed his cock 
appreciatively, and quietly unzipped to get it out. He held the knife in his 
right hand, his shaft in his left, and watched, entranced, as she admired 
herself in the mirror, running her hands over her bottom, breasts and legs. 
Lovely golden tan, and those brilliant white panties! Lovely tits under their 
white lace, and that pretty little mound under her panties. The crotch was 
tight over her cunt lips, separating and outlining them. He was going to have 
her. She would be well worth the risk.

'Not bad!' she thought. No wonder Charles...and the others...were after her 
all the time. She looked at her bottom in the mirror. The white thong did it 
justice, she thought. Firm and rounded, and she had shaved so the thong 
fitted perfectly over her mound. Holding the gin glass, she pirouetted. Good 
tits, too. And the white lacy bra showed them off well. 'Pert,' she thought. 
'Yes, that's the word for my tits, pert. Glad they're not too big. The shape 
and firmness, that's what the boys go for.' She was about to kick off her 
silver high-heeled sandals, matching her dress (and purse!) that evening. But 
on second thoughts kept them on. Her legs looked better in high heels. 
Showed their shape off, and the shape of her bum as they pushed her center 
of gravity a bit forward. Nice flat belly! 'Pity it's too hot for stockings,' she 
thought. 'Love to see my legs in stockings.' She pirouetted, and stood, one 
leg bent up in the classic cheesecake pose She laughed at her own vanity, and 
poured herself another gin.

'Serves her right, cheeky little bitch,' Josh muttered to himself. 'Teasing 
guys like that! Just asking for it. Condoms in her purse, ready.'

                                      .....................................................

She was just finishing her second gin, and considering whether to have 
another before her bath, when she heard a noise. 

He had crept into the room and was close enough to touch her. As she turned, 
he grasped her arm and pulled her to him, her nearly naked buttocks pressed 
against his naked prick. The knife was at her throat. The stocking disguised 
his face, but his voice was clear, if made gruff by his lust.

'No noise, sweetheart. I know how to use this.' He cleverly put on a false 
Scottish accent.

'Please.....'

'Sh! I said.' He was looking round the room, and saw what he needed. Wide 
parcel tape. Yeah, that would do it. Wordless,  he pushed her towards the 
desk, with a computer on it, and the tape in a filing basket. He stretched the 
clear plastic tape between his teeth and one hand and cut it with his knife. He 
held her wrists in one hand, and bound the tape round them, four times. 

'I know you. You're the bouncer...'

'Silly Bitch!' He pulled off the stocking mask. 'You see what you've done?' 
As he spoke he cut off another length of tape and wound it round her head, 
covering her mouth, lifting her hair so the tape went under that golden 
cascade. On second thoughts, he would have preferred to have her wrists 
bound behind her, but this was ok. Another few layers of tape over her lower 
arms now. Leave her legs free as yet!

'Well, now. Looks like you're safe now, darling.' She kicked out at him, 
missing with the stiletto heels, and he laughed. He could see anger more than 
fear in her eyes. He'd soon change that, he thought. Suddenly he remembered 
a picture he'd seen years before. A German soldier was raping a girl. The 
plate was grey and smudged, one of a series of first world war propaganda 
atrocities he used to wank to when younger. She was tied to a farm kitchen 
table, her arms together, and her legs wide apart. Her cunt was about to be 
penetrated . A second print showed her face down on the same table, with the 
soldier wiping his cock. The clear suggestion was that after fucking her cunt, 
he had buggered her arse. The table was just like this one! He pulled her, still 
kicking, to it and bent her over it, backwards. The tape again, this time 
between her wrists and round the tape already there. Now over the table and 
down to a table leg. Three times round that. She was rolling about, legs 
kicking in the air. He could see the muscles in her flat belly as she wriggled. 
There were tears in her eyes, but whether of frustration and anger, or terror, 
he could not tell yet.

He stood back. This would be the good bit! He dropped his trousers, keeping 
his t-shirt and shoes on. He was as hard as he had ever been, his cock 
twitching as he looked at the writhing figure before him. Now he grasped one 
ankle and wound tape around it before securing it to a table leg. The pretty 
little slippers matched the silver glitter on her toenails. He pulled her body 
towards the edge of the table, so her white-lacy butt was just at the edge 
before strapping her other ankle to the other free table leg. She lay there, 
helpless and gagged, legs wide apart. He ran his leg up one slender leg from 
ankle to crotch, and then the other. Smooth, cool skin, smooth as glossy 
stockings, he thought. He leaned over her and felt her tits through the lacy 
bra, his cock pushing against the crotch of her panties. A drop of his precum 
soaked into them.

His mind went back to an evening in the cinema. 'Bitch!' he thought. It was 
three years ago now, but it still made his anger boil when he thought of it. He 
squeezed a tit brutally, and then stroked it again. He had been in the back row 
with Maisie Tomlinson. 'Bitch!' he muttered, and squeezed a tit again. He 
had managed to get his hand inside her blouse feeling her breast through a 
satin bra. He had made to kiss her, and she had turned away. 'Christ! Your 
breath stinks, Josh Hogg. Ugh!' And she had walked out of the cinema, 
leaving him. Next day everyone knew. 'Bitch!' he said out loud, and reached 
for the knife, which he had stuck into the table top. He placed the blade 
under her armpit, enjoying her flinch and the terror in her eyes as the cold 
steel touched her. 'Bitches teasing you with their lace and silk, and condoms 
in their bags. Bitches!' With and upward sweep he cut the white bra-strap, 
stuck the knife back in the polished table-top, and pulled the bra away, 
throwing it down so it landed in front of the window. 

Her nipples were standing, as if excited, though that was hardly likely, he 
thought. He placed one hand on each tit and amused himself pushing them 
down so the nipples pressed into his open palms. They were good tits, he 
thought, firm and round. He preferred them not too big. He rolled a pink 
nipple between each thumb and forefinger, and then pulled them, stretching 
her breasts out and up. He let go and they went back into shape. He grasped 
them again, and this time twisted each one, anti clockwise the left tit, and 
clockwise the right. This must have hurt her because her hips rose from the 
table and she was trying to wriggle. Tears ran silent down her face. He 
twisted and squeezed hard. The pink nipples were very hard now, and he 
realized that pain could mimic pleasure. It was a new idea. He leaned over 
her closer, and licked one breast and then the other. She was salty, from the 
dancing earlier he guessed. He bit her, hard.

Her waist was tiny, and her belly flat. When he spread his hands, he could 
almost join them round her waist. Very trim and sexy, he thought. Well 
worth the risk of raping her. And no need to hurry this time, for once. No 
hurried release in the bushes before legging it. He stroked his cock. The teeth 
marks on her right breast showed red and livid now against the white flesh. 
He bit the left breast.

Lovely flat belly, he thought. Her cunt seemed quite plump under the white 
satin thong.

His mind went back to summer two years before. Nelly Pepper on the beach 
with two of her friends. Josh hanging around at the edge of a group of boys. 
Nelly  had a tiny yellow bikini, the thong scarcely covering her cunt at all, 
and the back of it disappearing into the crease of her buttocks. He grasped the 
white satin as he recalled his humiliation. He had asked Nelly for a date, 
stupidly in public. But it had been thoughtless, on the spur of the moment, 
provoked by that pretty cunt so carelessly showing through the thin, tight, 
yellow cloth.  'I wouldn't go out with you, Josh Hogg, if you was the last boy 
in the world,' She looked him straight in the eyes, and there was nothing in 
her eyes but contempt. His face flushed now as he remembered. 'Hogg by 
name and pig by nature.'

The girls giggled. The boys laughed. He had fled.

Angry, he put his hand down into her white panties, grasped the fabric, and 
pulled, hard. The lace tore, and he threw the debris onto the floor.

'Shave your cunt then, darling? Shave it for Charles, do you? Condoms in 
your purse and cunt shaved for him to suck and fuck. Bitch!' He was holding 
her whole cunt in his hand. He let go, to look at it. The lips were tight closed, 
a thin parting in the pink flesh. He pulled them apart, two handed. Inside was 
dry. 'Dry! But only to be expected I guess. What about up here?' He jabbed a 
finger into her, but her cunt was just as dry, the flesh of her outer lips 
clinging to his finger, and being dragged into her with it. 'Not much good for 
fucking, sweetie.'

He squatted between her legs and licked at the open slit. Salty! He sucked 
and licked, but there was no reaction, no flowing of hot juices for him. 'I like 
a slippery fuck, darling'

He knew where he would find what he wanted. On the side of the sink, in the 
kitchen, an open pat of butter. He returned with it in his hand.

'Buttered crumpet, darling!' He scooped a dollop, and spread it over her 
open lips. His finger slipped in easily now. He felt around in her, removed it, 
and licked in clean. 'Now  you're gonna get that shagging, sweetie.' She was 
wriggling, trying desperately to break the plastic tape bonds.

He stood over her, one hand on her belly, the other holding his cock. It 
slipped easily up and down her cuntlips, and when his knob penetrated her 
vagina, he let go, and held her down with both hands on her belly. He 
pushed, and the whole length of his prick slid easily into her. 'That's more 
like it darling. Don't want a sore cock after humping you. Easily now. 'Ah, 
yes, now that's good. Hot and tight!'

He had intended to make it last, but as he looked at her tits, her flat belly, her 
golden hair, the tears coursing down her face, and above all his cock parting 
her shaven cuntlips, and slipping in and out, he found he was coming.

He pulled out, still erect. Cum dripped from his cock onto her thigh. He bent 
to pick up her torn panties but then had a better idea. He went around the 
table and wiped his cock in her golden hair. That felt good, and he was ready 
for another fuck.

'Gonna be in your arse now. I wonder if you give lover-boy Charles your 
arsehole sweetie? Well, you're gonna give it to ole Josh!'

He was careful not to give her a chance of escape. He cut one leg free, and 
then taped her legs tight together before cutting the other leg free. Then he 
cut the tape fixing her hands to the table leg. He rolled her off the table and 
she fell heavily to the floor. Over onto her belly now, and then her legs 
forced up until she was kneeling, legs tied, and hands tied in front of her. Her 
hair spilled over her shoulders, and her tiny waist accentuated the round 
fullness of her buttocks.

The butter again, and a dollop on his finger to work into her anus. Just 
enough fingering to allow his cock to slide in. He did not care whether she 
got any pleasure, so it was enough to grease it up, without bothering to relax 
the muscles. In any case, he liked a tight butt-fuck.

He knelt behind her, a hand on each cheek, pulling them apart. Blonde, she 
had a pink arsehole, like a puckered rose. He placed his cock and forced the 
knob in. Two hands on her shoulders, he pressed forward until his thighs 
touched her bottom and his cock was fully enclosed. She was tight! Her anus 
was spasming on the root of his prick, gripping and releasing, only to grip 
again.

He pulled out, so only the knob was in her, and gloated as he looked down at 
the symbol of his triumph over cruel femininity. He was fucking her in the 
butt for all those other girls who had humiliated him. He pushed in again, 
hard, and enjoyed the way her buttocks flinched away from him. He grabbed 
a handful of golden hair and twisted it so she had to look at him over her 
shoulder. The anger had gone from her eyes. Only bleak misery now. He 
made her watch his face as he fucked her, his other hand grasping the flesh of 
her right buttock. 

He felt his orgasm building, like a spring coiling up in his balls as they 
slapped against her cuntlips. He let go the hair, and slapped her arse cheeks 
in rhythm with each thrust. Left hand, right hand. He was ready now, and 
with a series of brutal thrusts he unloaded his passion into her. He was 
panting from the effort when he had done. Her arse was gripping his cock, 
but he pulled it out, half limp. Just a bit of her shit in among the shining 
butter. He wiped his cock in her hair again, but found he needed her torn 
panties to finish the job.

He felt calmer now than he had for weeks, and he knew what he had to do. 
This would be a first, he thought.

She had recognized him. There was only one thing to do. He went out to the 
kitchen again. In the cupboard what he needed, a tall bottle of methylated 
spirit, and a smaller can of lighter fluid. By its weight it was nearly full. 

He splashed the purple spirit over the carpet, and especially over the 
bookcase and settee. That would burn well, and quickly. The lighter fluid had 
a nozzle, and he squirted it liberally over everything, until it was empty. 
'Should have saved some for her,' he thought. 'Too late now.' She was still 
kneeling where he had left her, sobbing quietly. Her anus was inflamed red 
from his buggery, but had closed up again. He could have managed her 
again, stimulated by her abject helplessness, but the smell of petrol was 
everywhere. He turned the gas fire on, but did not light it. He made a torch 
from a rolled up newspaper and lit it using her lighter.
He stepped towards the sash window, ready to throw the torch onto the settee 
before stepping out of the window into the garden. His left foot trod on the 
strap of her bra, where he had thrown it. The toecap of his right boot fitted 
neatly into one of the bra cups. He tripped. As he fell, his head clipped the 
corner of the computer table, and he was unconscious even before he crashed 
to the floor. The blazing torch dropped from his hand to the carpet, where it 
smouldered.

She found she could move, and with a series of 'bunny hops' managed to get 
round his prostrate body and to the window. She got her arms and body over 
the sill, so she was resting on her belly. Now a huge effort to produce a sort 
of back-flip and she was lying on her back in the flower bed, crumpled 
against the brick wall. Above her there was a sudden flash and a sheet of 
flame as the room caught fire, gas and spirit finally igniting.

Mr Salim Mahmood had finished his shift and was driving his taxi home. His 
wife would have a nice meal for him, and with the children in bed, they 
would have sex in front of the television. He hummed happily to himself. It 
was the whiteness of her body as she fell through the window that caught his 
eye, and he was braking to a halt when the window was lit by flame. He 
called his depot on the radio, and had them call the emergency services. He 
ran over the rough lawn to the window, crouching under the searing heat. He 
picked up the girl and staggered back to his cab, dumping her in the front 
seat. She was pretty, and naked, but he felt no lust, only pity. He could not 
find a knife or anything sharp to cut her bonds, and was scrabbling about 
looking when the police arrived.

Woman Police Constable McFee. took over, releasing the girl, and wrapping 
her in a blanket .She allowed herself the luxury of touching those lovely tits 
as she did so. God! The girl was beautiful. Her thighs and arse were bruised. 
There were bite marks on her matchless tits and on her buttocks. Some 
bastard male had had her. WPC McFee promised herself she would 'counsel' 
the girl, warn her of men's violence, and persuade her of the supremacy of 
lesbian love. 

The fire brigade arrived just in time to hear Josh's scream of pain and terror 
as he regained consciousness to find he was on fire. Beaten back by the 
flames they listened. The scream died away, and his next breath filled his 
lungs with raw fire. He managed to stand. Appalled the firemen saw his face 
and arms blackened and bubbling, his hair and clothes on fire. He stood 
silhouetted, a black figure framed against the flaming room behind him. A 
desperate gurgle in his throat as he tried to scream again, and he fell 
backwards into the inferno.

                                                         FIN

 




