index


Message-ID: <61585asstr$1318641062@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
From: "Anonymous Writer" <atc_bubbles@hellokitty.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Stairway to Hell
Lines: 257
Date: Fri, 14 Oct 2011 21:11:02 -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




Stairway to Hell

By Anonymous Writer

Disclaimer: If you're old enough and enjoy reading about sex with
kids, then keep on reading. This is fiction.

Tags: dark, M/g, nc, ped, rape

She was a pretty girl living in the wrong neighbourhood. She
caught my eye when she moved in with her mother down the hall. We
lived in the same mid-rise apartment building in a poor
neighbourhood in the so-called bad part of town. The buildings
here were all welfare housing. Small apartments that were crammed
full of people. Hobos and degenerates walked the streets. No one
let their kids play outside and the streets were empty when the
sun set. Only junkies, dealers, and thugs were around at night.
Crime was rampant. Not a week goes by without someone overdosing
or getting killed or hospitalized from a fight. People didn't get
pickpocketed around here. They got mugged instead.

This was the kind of neighbourhood this girl was dragged into by
her mother. She had just got out of rehab from some messy
addiction and looked to be going right back on the road of
addiction. But she had to pry that daughter of her's from her
father and drag her into this hellhole with her. I felt bad for
her, really, for those few moments when my mind wasn't filled
with the thought of violating her body all over.

She was a pretty young thing of seven. She was skinny and about
average in height for her age. She had cool blue eyes and a
heart-breaking smile for those who were lucky enough to see it.
She usually wore a dirty pair of grey sweatpants and a white
t-shirt that was riddled with splotches of stains that were never
washed away. There was a faded cartoon mouse drawing the front of
the shirt, but it was usually covered by the front of her puffy
dark orange vest that didn't zip up properly. That was her outfit
for most of the winter and spring when she lived in the same
building as me. I rarely saw her leave her apartment except when
she was accompanied by her mother to help with carrying groceries
back from shopping during the weekends.

As the days got brighter and warmer with summer approaching, she
would venture out by herself. The hall on our floor was usually
quiet as loners like me would shut ourselves in for as long as we
could bear. But I was drawn to the sound of playful laughter that
seeped through my front door one late spring afternoon. I spied
out my peephole to see a pale yellow blur prancing by. She was
playing by herself, perhaps with an imaginary friend. Running and
giggling profusely wearing a sleeveless, pale yellow tent dress.
The fabric was worn and thin. It wasn't transparent, but under
the right light I could see whether or not she was wearing her
knickers that day. She often didn't. The pale yellow of the dress
made me wonder whether the dress was originally a yellow that
faded or a white that was yellowed. From the look of the dress as
it hung down just pass her knees and the way it fluttered as she
ran, I could tell the dress was handed down to her and modified.
The original straps were crudely cut off and replaced with what
looked like thin yellow shoelaces that were fitted to her
shoulders.

All these little details I spied from behind my door on sunny
afternoons in silence. I stood watch with baited breath for the
rare chance to see her dress flutter just high enough or when she
did a clumsy cartwheel. I drank in those fleeting moments and
etched them into my memory, playing them back in my mind every
night in bed. Soon, the pleasure those glimpses brought me wasn't
enough. I was in lust for her, her body, her sex.

Aside from her adventures in the hall, she would often play in
the stairway by herself if a neighbour got bothered enough by her
play to chase her away. The stairway was quiet enough and no one
used it except for when the elevator was broken. It was a dirty
place and home to the wandering homeless at night. She didn't
seem to mind the smells, often playing her games for hours in it.

On one particular sunny afternoon, I slipped out of my home as
quiet as a mouse and went into the stairway after watching her go
in from behind my door. She was hopping up the stairs two steps
at a time and I followed without notice. She stopped to catch her
breath on the top floor, panting softly. I was so close behind
her that I could see the fine sheen of sweat that started to
appear on the back of her exposed neck. My hands trembled for a
moment before I wrapped the cloth over her mouth and nose. She
barely had a chance to struggle before her body fell limp in my
arms.

I laid her down in a corner on the top floor landing, propping
her up before I bound her arms and blindfolded her with two
strips of spare cloth. Now the fun began. I smiled as I lifted
the front of her dress up to her tummy and feasted on the sight
of her half-nude form clad only in her underwear. Those pure
white panties I took off and stuffed them in her mouth before
tying a third strip between her lips to gag her. It's a shame I
had to bind, blind, and gag her. I would've liked to feel her
struggle, see the fear in her eyes, and hear her cry as I
molested her. But for my safety, these pleasures I had to forgo.

I focused on waking her instead. Bringing out a small vial, I
popped open the stopper and held it under her nose. She was up in
an instant, struggling to get to her feet and crying out a
muffled yelp of confusion. I stood watch, not making a sound. Her
situation slowly sunk in as she unsteadily got on her feet by
pressing her bound hands against the wall behind her. I stood up
with her and placed both hands on her shoulders as she tried to
move forward. Two of my fingers reached under the spaghetti-thin
straps on her shoulders and gave a sharp tug. As they gave away,
the dress fell and pooled at her ankles.

My hands brushed down her slender shoulders and followed down to
her bound hands behind her back as I dropped down. In my kneeling
position, I faced her hairless little slit. Less than an inch
away, I could smell her young sex mixed with a hint of sweat and
piss. I leaned in and lapped with my tongue, she tried to pull
away in turn. But I held her tight against me as my tongue
molested her once pure and untouched crotch. Her taste was sweet
and her skin was soft and supple. It begged me to nibble and nip
at her folds. Her resistance was fierce at first, but her will
was quick to break. I couldn't make out her muffled noises, but I
liked to imagine she was begging at first for me to stop and then
for me to keep going. I kept stealing glances up at her when I
rested my weary tongue, watching her tears soak her blindfold.
She must have had an orgasm by the time her knees were wobbling
and her breath was wavery between sobs.

Now that I did her the favour of pleasure, I picked her up by the
waist and bent her over the railing on her belly. She was smart
to not struggle as she balanced there precariously. My cock was
eager when I took it out. With a bit of spit in one hand, I wet
cock as my other hand held her steady. It took some time with
positioning her on the railing before I could my head was
comfortably nested between her lips. I thrusted and pushed her
down and worked for minutes over her muffled cries until I went
inside her. It was tight inside her child cunt without proper
lube. Between eating her out and spitlubing my cock, it was still
struggle. When I saw blood on my cock and heard her cries change
to a painful tone, I knew I had taken her.

When I gave up trying to futilely bury my entire length into her
snatch, I worked up a rhythm, pounding a good three inches into
her with every thrust. The spit on my cock was soon replaced with
blood and much of it. My cock was a bloody mess. Bright red
rivlets ran down her thighs and patches of it stained my pants.
It was a horror show that even made me queasy so I closed my eyes
and focused on the her tight little hole as I made sweet love to
the child.

Had I not felt so exposed on the stairway, I would've gone slow
and savoured the abuse of her cunt. But my hot seed soon flooded
her already full insides in an instant. So intense was my orgasm
that I was seeing white, doing my best to hold her steady on the
railing. My vision came back to me as cock plopped out with a wet
and messy pop.Her body hung limp and listless. The only movement
was the heaving of her chest as she sobbed quietly. I inspected
between her legs and found she was all but ruined and bloodied. A
sick red and white mess oozed out of her gaping cunt.

My stomach churned as my lust was sated and my senses came back
to me. I hurriedly cleaned my cock with her discarded dress. In
my rush to clean up, I left her hanging on the railing by
herself. Before I could even turn back around, I heard the
squishy thud. She had disappeared over the railing and I never
even bothered to look down after her. I went back into the hall
and took the elevator down to my floor, desperately hoping no one
would bump into me and see my blood-stained pants. My prayer was
answered.

It wasn't until late in the afternoon that her body was found. An
ambulance and a single patrol car came. There were no witnesses
and her body was carted off. Her mother didn't come home until
much later. I didn't get much sleep that night. I couldn't figure
if it was her mother's wails or the image of her bloodied dress
in my mind that kept me up.

A pair of detectives went door to door the next day, gathering
information and questioning everyone that was home. They left
their contact information on a slip of paper under my door when I
didn't answer and I called them that evening. I was startled to
learn the girl lived. She was in intensive care on life support,
but she lived. They took down my information and my alibi, and
seemed convinced enough to leave me alone.

Weeks passed and life seemed to go back to normal, but I felt I
had to finish what I started. It wasn't my intention to kill the
girl at first, but seeing her broken beyond repair and on life
support changed my mind. I had packed all my belongings which
easily fit in one suitcase and slipped out one night after
cleaning up the apartment. I took a cab out of the city to a
suburb just off the highway. The neighbourhood was middle-class
and close to the community college that I had dropped out of.

My roommates welcomed me back from my extended vacation with some
hesitance. Heather was the first to break, suddenly sobbing at
the dinner table. My ex-wife had been calling me non-stop for
weeks. When they finally told her I was backpacking through Asia
since spring after spending half a year protesting the
destruction of the rainforests in the Amazon with some fringe
environmentalist group, she told them about how our daughter was
raped and almost murdered. I flipped out like any father would.
First, I blamed my ex. Then I blamed myself for letting her take
custody. I got very drunk that night and my roommates were all
condolences.

The next morning I called my ex when I had sobered up. There was
an angry exchange of words, but she ended up in tears and I
consoled the poor creature. Finally the topic of our daughter
came up. The doctors weren't optimistic she would regain
consciousness and even if she did, the damage to her body and
mind would take years of physical and mental therapy. I hung up
without giving an answer.

I waited a week before I called her back and agreed reluctantly
to sign the papers that gave our consent to pull the plug. When
we left the lawyer's office, my ex briefly brought up her
neighbour, Timothy. Tim was an old man who lived a few doors
down. Although he seldom left his house, neighbours thought it
was strange when they hadn't seen him for months. Figuring his
children or relatives had moved him to a care home or he had
passed of old age, the landlord went to pay him a visit. After a
week of not getting an answer from Tim, he called the cops and a
locksmith.

What he found inside Tim's apartment was a curious case that was
now under investigation. The old man appeared to have passed away
in his sleep late last summer. His body would've decomposed and
the smell would've alerted the neighbours if not for the five
dehumidifers that he had all over his place. Somehow his body was
mummified in the small dry space. What turned this into an
investigation was the call made to the detectives about a month
ago, when the other investigation into the rape and attempted
murder of a young girl in the same building was taking place.

Someone had been living inside the dead man's house for almost a
year, assuming his identity and even making a statement to
detectives months after he had supposedly passed away. His bank
account was receiving his pension cheques and it payed his rent
and bills on time. Tim's death would've gone unnoticed for years
if the landlord had kept to himself.

"I hope they catch him." I lied, hoping for the opposite. "Maybe
he knows something about what happened to-"

"Do you think... He did it?" She asked before I could finish. The
way she looked into my eyes unnerved me. "Maybe." I looked away.
<1st attachment begin>

<HTML removed pursuant to http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/erotica/assm/faq.html#policy>
<1st attachment end>

----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
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> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+