index


Message-ID: <42548asstr$1053508203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 20 May 2003 18:13:53 -0500
From: Rachael Ross <rache18us@yahoo.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Subject: {ASSM} A Father's Debt (rache18us@yahoo.com) M/f, Crux, Snuff
Date: Wed, 21 May 2003 05:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

For adults. For free. Don't sell this story, it is't yours. It's mine.
If you're not over 18 and you are reading this, that's too
bad...There's so many better things you could be doing. Believe me - I
know. Uh...Story codes: M/f, crux, snuff, bad jokes

originally written sometime during 2000 in Seattle

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


A Father's Debt

Fiction by Rachael

Bob Ross was in trouble. But he didn't know how much, only that it was
a lot. Owing a shark like Mr. Big was bad enough, but skipping out on
the payments was even worse. Of course Mr. Big knew that it didn't do
any good to kill a guy cause he wouldn't pay, there were ways around
that. He only killed them if they couldn't pay. A small difference to
me or you maybe, but to Mr. Big it was all the difference in the
world.

And Bob was a wouldn't, so Mr. Big tried patiently to show him the
error of his ways. He sent some of his boys to talk to him. A couple
weeks later he sent a couple of his boys to hurt him. Another week and
Mr. Big gave him a personal interview. Bob didn't enjoy that very
much, the thought of becoming a eunuch didn't have very much appeal.
And the knife under his balls made it even less attractive. So he'd
paid, a couple times, but now it was a month later. Mr. Big wasn't in
a generous mood. He was thinking of moving Bob from the wouldn't file
to the couldn't file.

He sent his boys to get Bob Ross' balls. When they came back an hour
later saying Bob had gone off to New York on business for a week,
well, Mr. Big started thinking balls weren't enough. He was 3rd
generation Sicilian, that's true, but Mr. Big was also an American. He
drove a Lincoln for chrissakes! And in America instant gratification
wasn't a privilege, it was a God given right.

"Okay boys," said Mr. Big. "Where's Wild Willy?"

"Uhhh... He's in Walla Walla, Boss...Doin' a nickel for that
barbershop thing"

"What barbershop thing?"

"You know boss, that thing."

"Oh yeah. That thing." Mr. Big rubbed his chin. "Where's Crazy
Connie?"

"Uhhh...  The bitch, boss?"

"Yeah, the fucking bitch...Where is she?"

"You whacked her boss, remember? She was doin' that thing."

"What thing?"

"You remember boss, that goulash thing with those Hungarians."

"Oh yeah." 

"You whacked em all out boss...Helluva thing."

"Yeah." All the boys nodded. "Helluva thing, boss."

"Okay, shit..." Mr. Big mopped his brow with a silk handkerchief. "How
bout that maniacal guy?"

"Uhhh...what guy, boss?"

"The maniacal one...I forget his fucking name. Maniacal something."

"Oh! Right...What the fuck was his name?"

All the boys thought about it and then one of them snapped his
fingers. "Maniac Mike!"

"Maniac Mike? You sure...I don't know if I want some maniac doing this
thing."

"No boss, we just call him Maniac Mike cause he's a Mike, you know?
Maniac Mike. It scares people."

"Yeah!" Mr. Big smiled. That was just what he needed.  "Tell Maniac
Mike I got some work for him."

"You got it boss."

----------------------- Ok, the real story starts here, on the
telephone.

"...So this guy puts his arm around his wife and she says 'Not
tonight, I have a headache.' and her husband looks at her and says
'You have a headache?' and she says 'Yeah.' So the guy says 'Is that
your final answer?' and his wife says 'Yeah, that's my final answer!'
so the guy says 'Okay, I want to phone a friend!' isn't that
hilarious?....Jen?...Jenny?"

"Yeah, that's fuckin funny." Maniac Mike was holding the end of the
phone cord that he'd ripped from the wall. He pointed his big black
handgun at Rachael's pretty little head. "I got one too, I'll tell ya
later. Put the fuckin' phone down."

"Take anything you want, just do it and leave...Okay?" Rache set the
phone in the cradle and felt someplace inside a fear she'd never
experienced freezing her, paralyzing her. A small voice in her head
told her this big swarthy man wasn't going to be satisfied with taking
Daddy's watch.

"Yeah okay." Mike came a little closer, a lot closer. He was next to
Rachael and she could smell onions on his breath. "Anything I want
huh?"

Rachael nodded, leaning backward, trying to will her legs to work.
Trying to remember the rape prevention training she'd had so many
times in school. But nothing came to mind except onions.

Mike punched the girl quickly with a left to her gut. Rachael doubled
over, all the air suddenly gone and she couldn't get anymore. Her eyes
shut tightly and tears streamed down her face as she silently tried to
scream in pain. She fell to the floor and Mike picked her up in his
arms. He put his gun in the duffle bag on the floor behind him and
picked it up as well. He carried her upstairs, to her father's room.
She was still conscious, but helpless as a baby. He put her gently on
the bed and watched as she tried to take shallow short painful
breaths. 

She was a real cutie and Mike wondered what she'd done to piss off Mr.
Big. It wasn't his business, he didn't really care. Just a curiosity.
Musta been bad though, he thought, cause Maniac Mike didn't do much
babysitting. And he wasn't gonna start tonight either. He opened his
bag and pulled out a cardboard box with some 8" stainless spikes,
really just really big nails. He got out the heavy carpenter's hammer
and the duct tape.

Rachael's body was full of pain. Her stomach felt like someone had
driven over it with a truck. But at least she could breath a little.
Although it hurt. She watched her attacker watch her. He was holding
the gun and smoking a cigarette.

"What do you want? Why did you...Why did you hit me so...Hard?" Rache
rubbed her tender stomach.

"Sorry about that kid. I get used to knockin heads, ya know? I kinda
forget what little girls are made of."

"Yeah, well...Just do what your gonna do, okay? I won't bother you, I
won't even remember you! I swear!"

"You smoke?"

"What?"

"Do you want a cigarette?"

"Uhhh, no...No thanks...What do you want?"

Mike stubbed the cigarette out, set the gun down and walked towards
the girl on the bed.

"Whoa!...I mean...please...you don't have to do this, right? I
mean...Guy like you? You don't look like a rapist...Come on..." 

Rachael was scrambling to her knees, getting ready to run for the
bedroom door. But Mike reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her
back across the bed. He slapped her a couple times, telling her to
shut up.

"Shut up! Will ya?"

Rache kept yelling, screaming for help and Mike felt bad about it, but
he nailed her right in the nose with his big fist. That shut Rachael
up pretty fast, blood spurted out of her nose and her eyes teared up.
She groaned and covered her face with her hands. Looking at Mike with
wide hurt eyes.

Mike undressed her quickly, pulling a stiletto out of his back pocket
and slicing through her blouse and bra. He tugged her pants off and
then her panties. Rache shivered, the blood was a stark contrast to
her pale white skin. Mike liked it; she looked damn good for a little
chicken girl. Scrawny though, all skin and bones. He could see she was
convinced he was gonna rape her. Hell, she looked like she wanted it.
She was looking at him, holding her bloody nose and daring him to do
it. Mike felt his manhood swelling. Maybe later, he told himself.

Rachael wasn't going anyplace, she knew it and she was pretty sure
that whoever that guy was, he knew it too. She felt an excitement
inside her. How many rape fantasies had she played out in her mind? A
thousand? Maybe more, but not one of them matched up to the real
thing. She tasted blood and it turned her on. She could feel her sex
glowing, betraying her. She pressed her thighs together, wondering
what she would do. How would she react when he took her? Her nipples
were already hard, she was dying to find out.

There was a blank spot about 6 feet wide on one of the walls. A couple
pictures of Rache when she was a baby and then a little girl. And
another of someone else, must be her mom. Mr. Big didn't say nothin
about a mom.

"Is that your mom?"

Rachael looked at the large picture. "Yes, that's my mom." Rachael
talked a little funny, because she was pressing her dad's bed sheet to
her nose.

"Where's she at?"

"She's dead, she died a long time ago." Rache her eyes on the
photograph.

Mike looked at the picture too. "That's too bad kid. You got her
eyes."

"Thanks." Rachael said in a small voice. She watched confused as Mike
took the pictures down one by one, carefully leaning them against the
opposite wall. Then he pulled a chair over and placed it against the
now empty white space.

"Come here girl. Get on the chair for me."

Rachael thought about asking why, but figured it would be a useless
question. She dragged the blood stained sheet behind her as she walked
over, not bothering to cover her body at all. She stood on the chair,
her back to the wall.

Mike was a big guy. Even on the chair Rachael was only slightly taller
than his 6'6" 240lb body. She looked down at him, waiting. Mike
stepped back and looked at her. He framed her with his hands, putting
his thumbs together and forming a little 3-sided box. Rachael had to
laugh.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm an artist. I call it girl on chair against the wall. What do you
think?"

"I think it's silly. Is this like some weird dream? I don't get it."
Rachael crossed her arms across her chest. What was going on? Was the
guy going to rape her or not? Was he stealing stuff? Was he some
psycho that escaped from Westview?

Mike got a little camera out of his bag. "Say cheese!" *FLASH* "You
weren't smiling, one more time, okay? For Daddy."

Rachael smiled, but now she was really confused! What did that mean?
*FLASH*

"Perfect. Thanks kiddo."

Mike walked up to the girl standing on the chair. "Okay, this is the
hard part. I gotta do some stuff, okay? It's gonna hurt so I'm gonna
put some tape on your mouth. You do this and you get to see daddy
again. You fuck it up and I'm gonna do you right fucking here. I'll
bury you in the back yard and ain't nobody gonna know til Daddy
decides to dig a fuckin pool, you got it?"

Rachael listened to all this. She didn't understand. Do what? What's
gonna hurt? What the hell does this guy want?? But all she did was
nod. 

"Good girl." Mike smiled and got his tape. He peeled off a long strip
and put it across Rachael's mouth. "You like this shit don't you?"
Mike grabbed one of Rachael's breasts and felt the hard nipple, the
flushed skin. He'd seen bitches like this before, they liked to hang
out with the boys. He didn't understand it very much, fuckin morgue
hounds. That's what the boys called them, morgue hounds because they
always wanted to hear about who got tapped and what it was like.
Stupid cunts really.

Mike got his hammer and the box of spikes. He set the box next to
Rachael's feet on the chair. He noticed the small gold crucifix around
her neck for the first time. "Catholic?" Rache nodded. "If Jesus can
do it, so can you." He pulled her left arm out straight from her body,
pressing the back of her hand against the wall. Fuck, he thought, I
hope this ain't no cardboard house. She didn't weigh nothin though, it
would hold.

He pressed the long nail against Rache's wrist and turned his head to
look at her. The girl's eyes were wide with fright; she was shaking
like a leaf. But she wasn't trying to get away. Either she wanted it,
or she was too scared to move. Mike thought it was a little of both.
He told her not to move because he didn't want to hurt her hand. He
leaned against her arm, pinning it to the wall with his shoulder as he
brought the hammer down in a swift arc. 

It connected square on the head of the spike and drove it clear
through her flesh into the wall behind her. It went through the bones
in her wrist, the way it had to if it was going to support her weight.
Mike hit it again, as he felt her starting to collapse beside him. He
could hear her screaming through the tape. The spike was solidly
embedded in the wall now, it wasn't going anyplace. Blood was running
out of Rachael's wrist, down the plain white wall behind her.

Mike moved around carefully, the girl was barely conscious now; she
couldn't help pulling and twisting weakly, but the nail held her in
place. Mike took her other hand and repeated the procedure, nailing
her so that her bloody arms were spread like an angel's wings. He
stepped back and looked at her. The blood from her nose had started to
dry; it stained her mouth and chin and had run across her breasts. The
blood from her wrists continued to trickle out, leaving long crimson
streaks on the wall. He wondered if he'd cut a vein or something,
probably he thought. He'd gone right through the centers of both
wrists.

Rachael was sobbing from the pain. Her arms felt like they were on
fire, she'd never experienced anything like it. She was helpless and
trying to pull herself free only made it a thousand times worse. Her
tears ran down her cheeks and dripped away to the chair below. Her
body was bathed in sweat and her breathing was ragged, almost painful.
Every little movement only made it worse. She could barely breathe
anyway, her nose was filled with congealing blood. When Mike had first
taped her mouth shut she'd panicked until she realized she could still
breath, she'd only had to swallow a little blood and snot. But now
that moment was lost, like all her other memories. Only the pain
remained, as if it had always been there and she could remember
nothing else.

Mike moved the chair out from under the girl. She groaned and her body
tightened, contracting against the sudden pain of hanging from the
nails in her wrists. He crossed her legs at the ankles, he would nail
the top one and it would hold the other, Mike thought. No reason to do
both of them. He drove the nail through the top of Rachael's left
foot, securing it firmly to the wall with another burst of blood. She
was past trying to scream, Rachael only moaned loudly through the tape
as she was penetrated a third time. The pain wasn't even that bad, it
couldn't make what she was feeling any worse than it already was. It
was like adding a bucket of water to the ocean.

Mike stood back and picked up the bed sheet from the floor where
Rachael had dropped it. He wiped his hands clean and put the hammer
and nails back in his bag, Mike lit a cigarette and sat down, watching
Rachael as she moved slightly, shivering and trying to breathe. He put
the gun in his bag and got his camera out. Mr. Big loved pictures.
*FLASH* Mike took one and then put his cigarette out.

"Hey kid, you done good! Can you look at me?"

Rache heard him like a distant voice, but she couldn't make out the
words. Mike lifted her chin and pulled the tape off. The girl took a
deep breath and then another, but it was labored, a raspy sound. He
slapped her face lightly.

"Hey girl, come on, snap out of it...We're almost done."

Rachael looked up with half-lidded eyes, unable to focus on where the
voice was coming from.

"That's it kiddo, good! Hold it...Hold it...." *FLASH* "Great! You're
pretty good kid, I like workin with you."

Mike put the camera back in his bag. "You wanna drink of water?
Here...let me get you somethin'." He went into the adjoining bathroom
and came back with a Dixie cup of cool water and a washcloth. He wiped
Rachael's face carefully first, then he put the cups to her lips. She
was dry, thirsty and she tried to drink it but ended up spilling most
of it.

"Please..." It was only a whisper, but somehow she managed to get it
out. "I...I want my Daddy now..." Her words faded into a low moan and
she fought to focus on Mike's face.

"Oh, right...Sure kid, sure. But first, let me tell ya my joke, okay?"

Mike lit another cigarette and sat down, moving the chair a little
closer.

"Okay, this guys walkin on the beach, see, and he sees this girl in a
wheel chair. She ain't got no arms or legs, just a body and a head and
she's sittin there on the beach." 

Mike takes a drag. "Anyway, he sees her and he's just gonna walk by,
but the girl's boo-hoo-hooin'. Cryin, you know? So he stops and he
looks at her and she's kinda pretty, like you." 

Mike smiles at Rachael and takes another puff. "The guy says to the
girl, 'Hey, why you cryin'?' and the girl looks up with her big brown
eyes, like yours, and she says 'Today is my birthday.' So the guys
says, 'Well, what's wrong with that?'"

Rachael moans softly and Mike gets up to look at her. "Can you hear me
okay?"

Rachael answers with a weak yes and Mike continues his story. "The
girl says 'I'm 18 and I've never been hugged!' So the guys says 'Oh!
That's too bad!' and he gives the girl a big hug while she's sittin
there in the wheelchair, you know? Anyway, he starts walkin away, but
she starts cryin again! The guy turns around and goes back and asks
her what's the matter now. She says 'Boo-hoo-hoo, I'm 18 and I've
never been kissed!'"

"You heard this before, kid?...No?...Okay." Mike takes another breath
of sweet blue smoke, blowing it out as he speaks. "Well, the guy says
that's too bad, right? And he bends down and he kisses the girl real
nice on the lips, cause you know, she ain't a bad squeeze, just got no
arms or legs. The guy starts walkin away again and again, the girl
starts cryin, really sobbin this time. And the guy goes back and he
looks down at her and he says 'What the hell is wrong now? You ain't
been hugged, I hugged ya! You ain't been kissed, I kissed ya! What is
it this time?'"

Mike stubbed out his cigarette, stood up and zipped up his bag. "The
girl says 'I'm 18 and I've never been fucked!' Well, the guy looks
down at her sittin there and she's lookin at him, kinda like you're
lookin at me kiddo, and he picks her up in his arms and throws her as
far as he can into the ocean. And then he yells at her "YOU'RE FUCKED
NOW, AIN'T YA?"

Mike walked out of the bedroom, closing it behind him with a chuckle.
That story always made him laugh.


The end
rache18us@yahoo.com

And just about the time I start thinking I'm missing something in my
life I find...Crucified Women! God! Is this perfect for me or what??
Why didn't someone tell me about this before?

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+