Brigette’s Bad Night
© Old Nick’s Man 2005

Brigette drew her head slowly backwards, allowing the man's
softening, wet, still throbbing cock to slide between her heavily
rouged lips and out of her mouth. She turned her head away, ready
to spit the mouthful of thick, sickly semen onto the pavement
when his hand grasped her tightly by the hair.

"Oh no! I paid you to swallow so you swallow!"

His cold, hard voice grated above her as she kneeled on the
concrete slabs, her face level with his groin. He smelt musty and
unwashed and Brigette could feel a few of his pubic hairs, wiry
and hard in her mouth.

She rose slowly to her feet. The man was no taller than she was
and as her eyes drew level with his, she fixed her gaze on them
and with an exaggerated gesture, gulped down the warm, slimy
mouthful. The taste and texture, although familiar, still made
her gag and shudder, but she made sure it didn't show. Boldly,
she opened her mouth to show him it was now empty. Her breath on
his face smelt of semen and there were small white droplets on
her chin.

The man appeared satisfied and slipped his softening cock back
into his trousers, zipping his fly quickly.

"Do you usually work this street?" He asked, a little more
friendly now he had had his way. Brigette nodded. "Then I'll
certainly see you again. Soon. What's you name, love?"

"Louisa." She replied, giving her professional name.

"You're quite good, you know Louisa. A bit inexperienced, but I
like that. You’re ok."

And with that, the man was gone, around the corner and down the
street.

Brigette watched him go, her face a picture of scorn and
contempt. Then she mechanically smoothed down her short black
plastic skirt and brushed a few grains of dust from her knees.
Pulling her tight crop top firmly down over her large breasts,
she tottered unsteadily into a concealed doorway and by the
yellow light of the streetlamp, looked into the small black
shoulder bag that had been slung across her back.

The man's three £10 notes were tucked next to a disappointingly
small roll of money. Still, she thought, cash was cash, and
Brigette needed a lot of cash these days. She tottered on her
stiletto heels back along the alley to the broad pavement where
she took her place on the corner once again, posed and waited.

Car after car drove slowly up the road, paused, then drove away
again. Brigette leaned over to peer into each dark vehicle as it
passed, but found no customers. She sighed, frustrated.

There had been little action that night. There had been a big
international football match on the television, which was keeping
most potential punters indoors and Brigette was cold and bored.

She had decided to give up for the night and walk back to her
useless boyfriend Andy and his squalid flat. He would be almost
unconscious by now, she thought bitterly. Stoned and incoherent.
Brigette knew she would leave him – and soon – but tonight was
not the night.

She remembered their first few weeks together only a few years
ago. How they had walked on the beach in the sun; how they had
danced through the night; how they had made love in the sand, the
sound of the waves constantly in their ears; how he had been tall
and athletic.

But Andy had been weak. A cold hardness spread through Brigette
as she remembered how Andy had first tried ‘soft’ drugs, then had
progressed to harder and harder substances; how he had persuaded
her to try; how she had naively believed him when he had told her
they could always stop if they wanted.

And now, here they both were, dependent. And always in need of
money. Lots of money.

In the sad, but classic manner, first Brigette’s journey to the
street had followed the classic pattern of so many girls before
her. When their money had run out and they could find nothing to
sell in either of their parents’ houses, their dealer, a huge
black former boxer called Zak, had offered to exchange drugs for
sex.

Brigette had been horrified, but to her even greater horror, Andy
had readily agreed and the two men had practically forced her
into cold, reluctant sex with Zak there and then. Zak had been
huge and it had been painful, the dealer insisting on getting his
money’s worth for a full hour.

But she had walked – sore and unsteady – from Zak’s flat with her
pockets stuffed with white plastic bags.

Now that the huge psychological barrier had been broken, it was a
short, rapid journey from sex with Zak to sex with his close
friends, all the time her reward - the number of bags - getting
smaller each time she performed until Zak finally moved on to a
small blonde eighteen year old schoolgirl and Brigette found
herself in need of money again.

She had begun working the streets. Dressing as appropriately as
she could, Brigette found herself quickly in demand. Avoiding the
violent attentions of the other street girls and, more
importantly, their pimps, she developed a small following of
regulars, but still needed more and more as Andy’s habit grew
worse and worse. In her more lucid moments, she felt horrified to
see that at nineteen, she was one of the older girls plying their
trade in the red light area. But need quickly overcame all other
considerations.

Andy had been in a bad state when she had left him earlier that
evening. Brigette needed lots of business tonight.

Brigette had almost reached the main road when a bus pulled up
alongside her. The door shushed open and the driver leaned over
towards her. The air was full of the sound of coarse singing and
the smell of beer.

"S'cuse me, love." Brigette slowed but didn't look at the man's
face. He went on.

"Sorry about the noise. Rugby club" He looked tired and dejected.
Brigette smiled wanly and stopped walking.

"I'm looking for the motorway. Can you help? Is it right at the
lights?"

Brigette stepped forward into the doorway to shout instructions.

She didn't notice the two young men slipping out through the
emergency exit and slinking, heads down around the back of the
bus. Reaching the pavement behind her, they straightened up and
walked casually along the street until they came level with
Brigette, who was leaning into the noisy beer-smelling bus,
talking in a loud, slow voice.

“You go left at the lights, then straight on until you ….Hey!
Stop that!”

One on either side, the powerful young men each grabbed one of
Brigette's arms and lifted her bodily from the ground, propelling
her forward into the bus. As they bundled her along the aisle,
the door closed behind her and a load cheer rang out as the bus
pulled quickly away and sped off down the road.

Brigette was outraged and very frightened. The burly men were
very strong and her feet didn't touch the ground until she had
been carried the full length of the bus. They pressed her to her
knees on the floor in front of the back seat.

The back bench seat was occupied by four of the biggest, ugliest
men Brigette had ever met. Bull-necked, beer-bellied with broken
noses and clearly drunk, they leered at her openly. Brigette
began to feel very afraid. The man in the middle grabbed her by
the arm and pulled her until she sat on his knee like a little
girl. He was incredibly strong. He turned her face towards his
and, breathing beer all over her, asked.

"You do discounts for bulk purchases?"

His friends nearby collapsed with laughter. The bus lurched
around a bend and one of the drunken men fell over, his head
flopping hard, face down onto Brigette's lap. Roaring with
laughter, his friends taunted him.

"Can't you wait, Bob?"

"No queue jumping!"

"You always were one for taking a dive." At this the bus
dissolved in laughter again as the hapless Bob pulled himself to
his feet again.

The bus was now heading out of the city towards the motorway,
rolling gently from side to side. Brigette realised she was being
taken further away from home and it frightened her.

"Come on, guys!" She protested. "Joke's over. Let me out here and
I'll walk back home."

There was another burst of raucous laughter and she turned to see
more than fifteen faces staring down the aisle and over the seat
backs. They looked drunk and their eyes were full of lust.

The big man on whose knee she was sitting breathed beer over her
once again as he spoke.

"I don't think so, tart. I think we'll do a bit of business
first. What's your name?"

"L....Louisa."

"Well Louisa, if that I your name, I’m Marcus. How about a quick
freebie blow job and we'll take you home?"

Brigette tried to appear strong and confident and take some
control of the threatening situation.

"It's thirty pounds. Cash up front. And I don't swallow."

Marcus appeared thoughtful. He reached into his breast pocket and
pulled out a few banknotes.

"Here's twenty quid. I'll have to owe you the rest."

With relief, Brigette began to feel she might just walk away from
this unscathed after all. She wriggled off Marcus’ knee and knelt
on the rocking floor of the aisle as he unfastened his belt and
clumsily slid his trousers and underpants down to his ankles.

Kneeling before him, Brigette looked in disgust at his body. His
large beer-belly strained against his tight rugby shirt, beneath
which grew a forest of greying pubic hair, spreading down his
thighs. From the forest grew the ugliest erection Brigette had
yet to encounter. Although no more than five inches long, it was
as thick as her wrist - no, much thicker - and a horrible pinky
white colour. She looked up at Marcus who was laughing at her.

"Never seen a real man before?" He breathed over her. "A deal's a
deal, Louisa. Do it."

The last words were so intimidating that Brigette forced herself
to overcome her revulsion. She took the monstrous cock in her
right hand and, tightly closing her eyes, lowered her open mouth
onto it.

The taste was vile. Stale and unclean, her tongue recoiled,
trying unsuccessfully to avoid touching its swollen head. But
Marcus wanted his money's worth.

"Come on little cocksucker! Blow me!" He yelled and, grabbing the
back of Brigette's head, he drove his erection deep into her
throat. Brigette gagged and immediately retched, but Marcus was
merciless. He thrust his hips upwards again, driving his
monstrous, mis-shapen cock into the depths of her throat.

Brigette's survival instincts saved her as she fought for breath.
She turned her head sideways making the thrusting cock drive into
her cheek. It bulged grotesquely.  Marcus grabbed Brigette by the
ears and bounced her face onto his erection over and over again.
She felt dizzy and sick, but through her dizziness it dimly
dawned on her that the sooner he came, the sooner her torment
would stop.

In the desperate desire to end her ordeal, Brigette took the
initiative and began to suck hard on his cock, while massaging it
with her tongue.  Marcus appeared happier and started to drive
himself upwards into her throat once again. Brigette held her
breath and sucked harder still, using all the technique she could
remember to bring him closer and closer to climax until, with a
gross animal grunt, hot semen burst from the rounded, swollen
head of his cock and sprayed the back of Brigette's throat. She
gagged, coughing dollops of milky spray out of her mouth and over
the front of his trousers.

Marcus pulled her mouth onto his softening erection one last time
as he croaked out the last of his passion. Brigette pulled away,
letting his flaccid cock fall back onto his lap, a cascade of
milky white running down her chin. She looked up at him and he
leered back at her.

"Well! You're a good little cocksucker after all!" He laughed,
his face red and sweating. "I wonder if you're as sweet the other
end. Come on, lads. Why should I have all the fun? It’s paid
for!"

There was a roar of approval from further down the bus. Brigette
turned her head to see seventeen angry, lustful faces staring at
her. She felt Marcus slide away from her face and suddenly her
arms were grasped firmly, painfully by the powerful men either
side of her. They forced her face hard into the middle of the
bus' back seat until she could barely breathe. She pulled her
knees under her in a futile attempt to protect herself but strong
hands were upon her, dragging her legs backwards, her
short-skirted buttocks pointing along the bus' aisle towards the
leering mob.

Brigette screamed in fear, but her words sank harmlessly into the
rear seat upholstery. She was trembling now, painfully pinioned
in this vulnerable position, dimly aware of the bus swinging
around in a dark, unlit area and stopping. The throb of the
engine died away. She screamed again, this time her cries were
cut off sharply by a vicious twist of her right arm up her back.

"Let me go! Please let me go!" She whimpered, tears rolling down
her cheeks onto the seat. In response, she heard the
unmistakeable sound of a belt buckle being undone and a metal fly
being unzipped. A cheer arose from the mob. She screamed again
but this time her cries were drowned out by the low, threatening
sound of excited singing.

"...Allouette, gentil allouette....." they began. First one
voice, then quickly building to a deafening, pulsating roar.

Brigette felt strong, rough hands on her buttocks. She gripped
her knees tightly together and tried to tuck her legs underneath
her for protection. She was rewarded with an excruciating pain in
her shoulder as her left arm was wrenched backwards, forcing her
face even harder into the foul-smelling rear seat.

"Aw look! The little tart's gone all bashful." She heard a voice
exclaim. "No need for that, love. We've seen better cunts than
yours before."

“Go for it Bob. Give her a good one!”

And with that, a rending sound rang out over the noise of the
singing as Brigette's short skirt was ripped from her waist, its
buttons and seam yielding easily to the strong hands upon it.
There was another raucous cheer and Brigette gasped with pain as
the back of her thong was pulled forcefully upwards. The material
was too strong and instead of breaking, Brigette, still kneeling,
was lifted bodily from the floor. The strong gusset of the thong
tore painfully into her labia as she hung, suspended momentarily
in mid air before being contemptuously dropped to the floor.

Her head and arms still trapped, Brigette could only gasp and
wait for another agonising tug, but instead, her tormentors could
wait no longer and she felt the thong being efficiently dragged
down her thighs, over her knees and boots and away.

She paused, helpless, totally exposed. She knew what was going to
happen but still managed one last plea.

"Please! Don't do it! Let me go!"

Her voice was inaudible above the cacophony of sound that
surrounded her.

Suddenly she felt her buttocks being spread.  A large rough
finger was unceremoniously thrust into her dry, bruised vagina.
She flinched visibly and tried to wriggle away from the invader.

......SMACK.......

A huge, loud, painful blow from the flat of a hand fell across
her right buttock leaving a bright red five-finger handprint on
her skin. The shock took her breath away and in that split second
the finger was thrust deep within her.

"Fuck her Bob! Fuck her Bob!"

The chanting grew louder around her as Brigette tried to steel
herself for what she knew must surely follow.

"Fuck her! Fuck her!"

The chanting was deafening now as Brigette felt the finger leave
her vagina. She closed her eyes and waited.

The next second she whelped in pain as the drunken Bob missed her
inner passage and rammed his erection clumsily but forcefully
into her clitoris. There was laughter around them.

"Can't even fuck properly!" Someone shouted. "Want me to hold it
for you?"

This taunting clearly angered Bob because his next thrust was
fully on target and his blessedly thin cock was driven hard into
Brigette's already dry, sore vagina.

It hurt her. It must have hurt him too because he stopped half
way in, burned by the friction.  There was a moment of silence.

"Christ! He really did it!" Said a voice from the front of the
bus.

And then the nightmare really began. The singing began again with
renewed vigour. Bob, spurred on by it, grasped Brigette’s hips
and after a slight withdrawal and ignoring all the discomfort,
forced his cock fully into Brigette's vagina. She bit her lip
hard against the burning pain, which grew stronger as Bob began
to thrust in and out of her.

"......there was a girl with a cunt so wide....." The words of
the new song filled Brigette's ears as her delicate passage was
crudely reamed. It burned as he withdrew, it seared as he thrust
himself inwards. Brigette's eyes poured renewed tears onto the
filthy seat, unable even to move her head as Marcus pinned her
mercilessly down.

After what seemed like an eternity, Brigette's body came to her
rescue and she began to lubricate. Bob's cock slid more smoothly
in and out and the pain reduced. Bob was grunting wildly now, his
face screwed up in pleasure and pain as he neared his climax.

"Cum now! Cum now! Let me go home!" Wished Brigette so strongly
she almost screamed it and in response she felt Bob's tightness
begin to break as he came noisily within her. His thrusts quickly
died away and eventually ceased before he pulled his softening
cock out of her and sat back on his heels, panting.

Brigette waited expectantly for the iron grip on her head,
shoulders and arms to loosen so she could escape.

She waited in vain. The pressure remained. Her ordeal was not
over. She felt a small rivulet of semen trickled slowly down the
back of her bare thigh.

There was a scuffling behind her and in the uneasy silence she
heard once again the unmistakeable sound of an opening zipper.

“Oh God, no! Not again!” She thought, unable to speak from the
pressure on her throat.

But there was more. Much more.

One by one they took her. Every last one of them. Some roughly,
some carefully. Some cocks were painfully large, some smaller and
slimmer. Some rode her bareback, some with rubbers. Some were
hesitant, forced on by their friends, some were hard bodied and
violent.

One, two.... eleven, twelve... Brigette gave up counting, her
eyes tightly closed, biting hard on her lip in a futile attempt
to blind her from the pain and humiliation.

Her vulva burned like fire as she was penetrated time and again.
Her lubrication quickly dried up to be replaced by the foul lake
of semen building within her body.  Her dizzy head span and span,
the bus’ dim internal lights moving in circles around her. She
began to feel truly sick, retching, her mouth filling with bile,
and all the time Marcus' arm pressed down on her neck, holding
her helpless, pinned to the seat. Her buttocks were red with the
repeated slapping of men’s thighs against them. He knees bruised
through being hammered into the bus’ hard vinyl floor. Time and
again they fucked her until she was so sore she could barely tell
when she had been penetrated and when she had not.

Her legs felt wet and weak and as the last pulsing, softening
cock was pulled from her fiery red inner lips, Marcus finally
released her neck from his vice-like grip. She collapsed against
the metal frame of the seat. Thank God! It was over! She silently
cried in relief.

But it was not over. There was still one more horror in store.

“My turn now, lads!”

Instead of the expected release, Brigette froze in terror as
Marcus, laughing hollowly, squeezed past her kneeling head and
body and took the vacant place between her splayed legs. He
lowered his trousers and boxer shorts triumphantly, his short,
monstrously thick erection bursting aggressively forwards.

'One more.' Begged Brigette silently, her eyes and mouth still
tightly closed. 'Please make this the last one. Please!'

The next second her eyelids flew open and her mouth opened wide
in shock as without warning, Marcus' large, rough-skinned thumb
was crudely and viciously pressed into her anus.

"You didn't think I'd stick my beautiful cock where all these
dirty buggers have been, did you?"

He laughed horribly and leaned over her back. His mouth was close
to Brigette's ear as he breathed more beery breath over her face.

"I'm going to fuck your ass good and proper, whore. I want my
money’s worth!" He twisted his thumb cruelly in her rectum.

Brigette rolled her head slowly round. She couldn't bear to face
him, her eyes were crusted with dried tears.

"Please! Please, don't! Please!" She croaked despite her
exhaustion and nausea, but to no avail.

"Hold her tight, boys." Marcus ordered, forcing his left thumb
deep into her anus alongside his right as strong hands again
gripped her arms and throat.

Brigette felt violated as never before. An anal virgin still, her
sphincter was tight and resisted Marcus painfully. Involuntarily,
she tried to void her bowels to rid herself of this invasion, but
the action merely relaxed her anus for a split second. Marcus
immediately took advantage of this and pulled her wide open with
his strong hands. He spat onto and into her open orifice,
laughing mirthlessly as Brigette's face contorted into yet more
extreme grimaces of pain.

Pulling his thumbs suddenly away, Marcus quickly placed the head
of his cock against her sphincter and pressed forward.  He
grunted in anger as her anus sprang shut, denying him entrance.
He spat on her once again, then with a loud animal grunt, thrust
his hips forward violently.

Brigette felt a 'pop' within her and a huge, vile presence burst
into her rectum. She immediately retched as her body tried vainly
to expel the invading monster. Marcus realised he had finally
penetrated her and pressed himself home. With one, two violent
thrusts he buried his cock in Brigette's rectum until his balls
slapped against her sore, swollen labia.

Brigette couldn't believe the horror within her. Her anus was
stretched tightly and painfully around the huge shaft which
reached deep within her body, tearing at her guts and tightening
her chest and her throat. Her head rolled, eyes widely staring
from side to side, her body paralysed by the rod on which she was
impaled.

Marcus began to thrust in and out of Brigette's rectum. She was
dry and again the friction burned him. He spat on his shaft once
more and grunted in satisfaction as his passage eased. Brigette’s
body made disgusting slurping, rasping noises as air was forced
past her tight sphincter by the invading shaft. As he gained
rhythm, Marcus' huge weight repeatedly struck her buttocks as his
cock was driven deeper and deeper into her body. With every
powerful stroke her head was rammed into the seat back, the
vomit-soaked material rubbing her cheeks sore. Her cervix was
bruised, her perineum nearly torn and the pressure on her bladder
was painful.

As Marcus’ pace and violence increased, Brigette began to lose
consciousness. Her eyes became glazed and lost their focus and a
film of mist crossed her consciousness as, with a sickening wet
feeling passing down her thighs, Brigette’s sphincter finally
yielded, giving up all resistance and opening wide to allow
Marcus unfettered access to the heart of her body.

Marcus yelled aloud in triumph and, grasping her hips, began the
short sharp thrusts that would quickly bring him to orgasm. He
thundered into Brigette's rectum, and as he finally began to cum,
adding his semen to the river that now flowed down her inner
thighs, Brigette's body gave up its last grain of control and on
consciousness. The last thing she felt before the black blanket
of unconsciousness overwhelmed her was the final humiliation of
her bladder giving way and a stream of her own urine washing away
the semen tracks from her legs.

Brigette's body went limp and she collapsed in a heap on the
sticky floor of the bus. The singing stopped. There was a sudden
silence. Marcus, leaning over her inert frame was pumping the
last few spurts of his semen into her rectum. He felt rather than
heard the silence around him. Slowly he pulled his spent cock
from her gaping, bleeding anus and sat back, panting.

"Oh God! Is she dead?" Came a voice from the back. "She is, she's
dead!"

"Shut up, Mike. Fucking shut up!" Yelled Marcus.

"What have you done?" Mike's voice was high, hysterical. "You've
killed her!"

"Whatever it is, you did it as well. That's your spunk on her
legs too, you snivelling bastard. Remember that!"

"I wanted to let her go. You all heard me." Mike protested,
almost in tears.

"Tell it to the judge.”

The silence was long and ominous. Then Marcus spoke.

“We’ve got to stick together or we’re all for it!” He thought for
a minute, panting, and then said

“She’s not dead you stupid bastard! Now shut up! Just everyone do
as I say and we'll all be ok."


The long, sleek police patrol car slowly turned a corner into the
darkened industrial estate.

“I hate coming out here alone!” The older man said. “They never
wonder what we’ll do if we meet a gang of ram raiders rather than
a bunch of kids.”

His colleague smiled. Whinging Willy, as he was known, always had
a grievance and tonight was no exception. Everybody knew that,
when the chips were down, Willy would always be in the right
place; do the right thing, but meanwhile you just had to put up
with his….

"Look out!" He suddenly screamed.

Phil turned suddenly and hit the brakes hard, the wheels skidding
loudly on the road as the car came to a shuddering halt just
inches from a pale, shivering shape at the side of the road in
front of them.

He leapt out of the car and ran towards the obstruction. It was a
person.

"What the hell do you think you're .....Hey! Are you alright?"

Willy was already half out of the passenger door.

"What is it, Phil?" He ran to his side. "Oh my God!"

On the verge in front of them was a thin, pale girl. Her face was
raddled, dirty and bruised. She was naked from the waist down,
the dark triangle of her pubic hair in stark contrast to the
white flesh of her thighs. Her legs, still in knee-high boots but
with two broken heels were covered in dirt and something
disgusting and sticky. There was blood on her thighs.

Phil knelt alongside her and felt for a pulse.

"She's really cold but she’s alive at least and..." he leaned
closer. "...still breathing. Get my overcoat, Will."

As Phil laid the coat over the prone figure, his voice dimly
breaking through to her consciousness, Brigette stirred and tried
feebly to raise herself up.

"No more. Hurts too much." She mumbled incoherently.

Phil wrapped the coat tightly around the girl and held her close
to warm her up. She began to shiver, but he held her tightly and
eventually colour started to return to her lips.

“What’s your name? What happened to you?” He asked as calmly as
he could. There was no reply from the glazed eyes. Suddenly he
sprang back, almost dropping her on the wet road.

“Brigette! Christ! What’s happened to you?”

He looked closely at Brigette’s battered face.

"Brigette! It IS you!” He turned to Will. “She’s an old friend of
my daughter’s. I hardly recognised her, she’s so badly beaten up.
And she's lost a lot of weight. We should get her to hospital,
now. Call control – and call an ambulance"

Brigette wriggled and began to scream.

"No! No more! No more!" She yelled, pushing Phil’s arms away. He
held on to her tightly to comfort her and the half-hearted
hysterics subsided.

The two policemen looked at each other.

"Is she drunk? On drugs?"

"Could be either – or both, knowing Brigette."

"Have you called that ambulance?”

“It’d be quicker to drive her. Much quicker! Come on!”

Between them they supported Brigette's crumpled body as she
staggered to the back seat of the patrol car. Will wrapped
Brigette tightly in his overcoat and fastened the seat belt
around her before climbing in next to her.

They drove quickly to the hospital, sirens blaring.
