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Old 15-Nov-18, 14:35
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
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Default The girl gang

Having absolutely nothing better to do most of the time, since I don't have a life, I have finished another story, this one called The Girl Gang. It was inspired (clever way of saying I ripped it off) by a story called The Teenage Girl Gang by Jiminy, which if you haven't read it, you should. It's almost as good as this one (totally objective opinion). Seriously, it's better, and I am so grateful to Jiminy that I'm giving him all the profits from this story. Seriously.

I mentioned this new story toward the end of the thread for my last story, A Prisoner In His Own Home, but for those who missed it, I will reiterate what my new story is about. The girl gang actually only consists of three girls: Sherry, age 13 and the unofficial leader, Denise, age 12, and Britney, age 11. Sherry has a score to settle with Jake, a fifty-five-year old man who lives across the street and who has called the cops on her one time too many. Denise and Britney are delighted when they find that two younger men, Jake's sons, are visiting the house. In a classic case of wrong place wrong time, they become victims of the feud between their old man and his much younger neighbor, a little bitch if there ever was one.

They pay a little visit to Jake and the boys. He sees them coming and knows they're bad news, so he makes sure the door is locked, but doesn't see any need to call the cops yet. Mistake. Bad mistake. And as far as the door being locked, well, none of the girls in my stories ever let a little old locked door keep them from getting their hands on their victims, so it's gonna be a really good day for the girls and a really, really bad day, and I mean REALLY bad day for the men.

The story, as usual, is violent, although not as much as some of my stories. And it's nearly all fight, none of this suspense building, character development and all that shit. Therefore, some people may actually like it, at least a little bit. I hope so at least, because my fragile self-esteem depends on it.

I'm proof reading and will hopefully be posting the first chapter shortly. It's shorter than most of my stories, about 40 pages long and only four chapters. Hope you enjoy.
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Old 15-Nov-18, 14:47
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Default Re: The girl gang

Damn, Dirk, you are really churning out these stories fast. I'm not complaining as I love your writing, but I hope you don't burn yourself out. Thanks for the update, mate.
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Old 15-Nov-18, 16:44
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
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No prob, Mix. I don't have anything better to do.

Last edited by dirksneath; 15-Nov-18 at 16:44.
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Old 15-Nov-18, 17:14
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Default Re: The girl gang

THE GIRL GANG



CHAPTER ONE



Sherry, age 13, and her friends Denise, 12, and Britney, 13, were having a slumber party at Sherry's house. Sherry, an only child, lived with her mom, a single parent, but she may as well have lived alone, as she came and went as she pleased. On those rare occasions when her mom tried to discipline her, the poor woman ended up with a black eye, a bloody nose or a busted lip. Therefore, she didn't even ask the girls to turn their music down, even though it was 2:00 am and the neighbors would undoubtedly be complaining, especially the man who lives across the street. He's called the police about Sherry before.

Meanwhile, the girls were having a ball listing to Justin Bieber and Ariana Grande. Britney wanted to hear Miley Cyrus, but the other girls let her listen to only a couple of songs, as no one other than Britney much liked her. The girls were all wearing nothing but panties and tee shirts, except Sherry, who wore panties and a top that looked more like an old man's undershirt, very loose fitting and cut so that it left a big gap around the armpits. In fact, it really was an undershirt left behind by her daddy, who moved out when she was ten and hadn't been heard from since. Sherry was the tallest of the girls, and even though the others were cute, she was downright pretty, with long blonde hair. Her legs were long and beautiful but deceptively strong.

As the girls listened to music and painted their toenails, they recounted their favorite stories of the boys they'd beaten up, as all three of them were considered holy terrors at school. All three of them were known to beat boys so badly that many start crying, and one boy actually started calling for him mommy while Britney, a cute little gymnast with long brown hair, pinned him to the ground and pounded on his face with her fists. “If your mommy tries to save you, I'll beat her up, and your daddy, too,” she had said, as she continued punching him. Britney, being a gymnast, had powerful legs, and often used them when she fought, clamping them around the boys heads, necks and midsections and squeezing them so hard they couldn't breathe.

As bad as Britney was, Denise was even worse. She was also a gymnast, and had long brown hair that was a little darker than Britney's hair. Denise was a little bigger, and had legs that were even more powerful than Britney's. She was known to occasionally pick fights with high school boys, for no reason other than because she could. She had been known to leave her middle school early and wait by the high school for boys just getting out of class. One day she picked one at random before he could get on the bus and beat the snot out of him, and was crushing the hell out of him with her legs until a security officer pulled her off. She punched him in the nose and ran away.

But of the three girls, Sherry was by far the worst. She wasn't a gymnast, but her daddy had left a set of weights behind in the basement and she worked out with them every day. As a result, she was even stronger than her friends, and a little bigger, too. Her legs were as strong as either Britney's or Denise's. The difference was that the two younger girls usually had mercy on their victims, but more often than not, someone had to pull Sherry off the boys she beat up.

Sherry was notorious for taking off her shoes and socks – if she was wearing any to begin with, which was rare – and fighting barefoot. A lot of that was just personal preference, since she hated to wear shoes. But it was also meant to send her victims a message, as she was known to make them kiss and lick her bare feet and suck her toes after she finally finished with them.

Sherry was known for one beating that was considered legendary. She and Denise and Britney were hanging out with some other girls, one or two a couple of years older than Sherry. They were walking down a street a few blocks away from where Sherry lived, and a man in a suit and tie drove up to his home and got out of the car to go inside. He appeared middle aged. None of the girls knew anything about him, but Sherry bet one of the older girls she could beat the shit out of him. This was a couple of weeks before Sherry's birthday, when she was only twelve.

Sherry made the bet with one of the older girls. The girl took the bet and Sherry started toward the man. He walked inside his house and Sherry, not having any idea who he was or if anyone else might be inside the house, knocked on the door.

He answered, obviously perplexed about this barefoot girl in short shorts standing there with a few other girls in the yard. “Hi. My name's Caitlin,” Sherry said, cleverly lying about her name. “I just made a bet with my friend girl over there that I could kick you ass, so what d'ya say? Wanna wrestle me?”

“Hell no,” he said, and slammed the door. Or rather, he tried to slam it. Sherry caught it when it was about an inch away from closing. The man's wingtip shoes slipped and slid on the carpet in the house as he tried to push the door shut, while Sherry's bare feet seemed glued to the concrete porch as she slowly pushed the door further and further open, telling the man all the things she was gonna do to him when she got her hands on him.

“Come on, mister,” she said, as she watched the growing fear in his eyes. “I'm only twelve-years-old. Don't you think you can out-wrestle a twelve-year-old girl?” Since she was winning this battle, he apparently wasn't sure, and obviously didn't wan to even try, but she was determined not to give him any choice.

A lot of what she threatened to do was bullshit, like saying she was going to gouge his eyeballs out, just stuff to scare him, but a lot of it was true, like saying she was gonna wrap her legs around him and squeeze his fucking guts out onto the floor. Well, she didn't go that far, but she was notorious for trapping her victims in a leg scissor, and that was one thing she did.

The man struggled hard, and while looking down at her feet, he probably figured that's why he was losing the battle to keep this crazy little girl out of his house. That is, he saw her bare feet on the concrete and figured that's what gave her the leverage to be gradually forcing her way into his house, as his shoes were slipping and sliding all over the place.

When she finally got inside, she stalked him in a crouched position, and then went after him, locking up with him and pushing him against the nearest wall, where she pummeled his face and stomach with her fists. She then backed up and ran at him, smashing her body into his and forcing him back into the wall, where she crushed his body with hers. It didn't hurt, but it showed him how strong she was and how weak he was, as he couldn't push her away. By then the other girls had come inside to watch the fun, so while getting the fuck beat out of him by a twelve-year-old girl he'd never even seen before, the poor man also had to tolerate all these other young girls in his house, some of whom looked even younger than this one, watching as the little girl destroyed him.

The man gave up and pulled his phone out of his pocket to call for help, but Sherry grabbed it and wrestled it out of his hand. The phone dropped to the floor as they tussled, and the man kept trying to push her away. Sherry finally released him, and when the man went for his phone, she slammed a bare foot down on his hand just as he started to pick it up. She then kneed him in the face, knocking him back into the wall, then picked up the phone and tossed it to Denise.

“Nice phone,” Denise said, slipping it into her pocket. “I needed a new one. Thanks, mister.” The girls all laughed.

He made a mad dash for his landline, but Sherry pursued him. When he got to the phone, she jerked the cord out of the wall and turned to face him, ready to fight some more, but the man wanted no part of her. He ran for the front door, but Denise and Britney were standing in his way, arms extended, daring him to try to get by them. The girls grabbed him around his waist and chest and threw him back at Sherry, who was right behind him. He fell into her arms and she trapped him in a reverse bear hug, squeezing his chest for all she was worth, lifting him up and shaking him.

Sherry shook him in her arms for about a minute, then threw him to the floor, pounced on him and wrestled him. The girls were yelling, “Go, Sherry, go, get him, beat him up.” And, boy did she ever. They rolled around on the floor with Sherry coming out on top, straddling him and choking him. He fought her, fought hard, but couldn't get her to release the choke. The poor man soon passed out.

When he came to, Sherry was standing over him, slapping him lightly with a bare foot, then diddled at his lips, nose and eyes with her toes. “Get away from me and get out of my house,” the man said.

“You're in no position to make demands, mister,” she said. “But if you want me to leave you alone, you have to give up. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. You also have to kiss and lick my bare feet and suck my toes.”

“Hell no,” the man said. “I'll give up, but I'm not kissing and licking some crazy little girl's feet, and I sure as hell will not suck your toes.”

“That's too bad, mister,” Sherry said, “because now I'm gonna finish kicking your ass.” She then fell on him and wrestled him some more. They rolled around the floor and Sherry went after him with her legs.

The poor man had no idea what she could do to him with her legs, so he didn't quite get it when she said, “My legs are gonna getcha, mister. My legs are gonna getcha good.” He got it before long, however, in more ways than one.

The other girls were very excited, as they knew what she could do with them. “Get him, Sherry,” they yelled. “Scissor him.”

The poor man then realized what they were saying, as he vaguely remembered what a leg scissor was. He desperately scooted away from Sherry's pursuing legs, but it was too late. She caught up with him and slammed her legs into his body, putting so much pressure on him that he groaned in pain. He pushed and pulled on them, but to no avail. The man then started slapping and punching them, but that didn't work, either.

“It's not too late to give up, mister,” she said, “but then you gotta kiss and lick my bare feet and suck my toes.”

The man kept struggling, obviously not ready to do something that humiliating. Not yet, at least. As her friends cheered her on, Sherry brutalized the poor man, whose only crime was coming home from work at the wrong time. If only he had stopped for gas instead of deciding it could wait until the next day, then the girls would probably have been a block or two away when he had pulled into the driveway, but it was too late now. Instead of sitting in front of his TV waiting for the evening news, he was wrestling across the floor with a crazy twelve-year-old girl who was squeezing the hell out of him with her powerful legs.

“All right, all right, I give,” he yelled, when Sherry finally eased up on him enough so that he could breathe.

“And?” Sherry asked.

“Okay,” he said, resigning himself to the inevitable. “I'll kiss and lick your feet.”

“And what else?” she asked.

“I'll... I'll suck your toes,” he said, almost in tears by now.

Sherry held onto the man with her legs for a full minute before finally getting off of him, leaving him on the floor trying to catch his breath. Just to make sure he didn't renege, she grabbed his arm as she stood and placed a bare foot on his face, twisting his wrist.

The man screamed in pain as Sherry said, “Kiss, lick and suck.” He did, kissing one foot. Sherry had to tell him she wanted more than one kiss, she wanted him to kiss the top, bottom, and the toes. He did as she demanded. Then she made him lick her foot, top, bottom, toes, and even between her toes. She wanted every square centimeter of her bare foot covered in his saliva.

Then she made him do the same with her other foot. After she was satisfied, she made him suck all ten toes on each foot. Then she demanded that he thank her for letting him worship her pretty bare feet. When he was reluctant, she kicked him in the face, hard.

He finally said, “Thank you for letting me kiss and lick your feet...”

She kicked him again and said, “Not just my feet, my PRETTY BARE FEET.”

The badly beaten man reluctantly said, “Thank you for letting me kiss and lick your... your pretty bare feet... and suck your toes.”

She then pulled him up by the hair and pushed him around the room for a couple of minutes, calling him a pathetic excuse for a man, then finally she and all the girls left the house, just as a woman was pulling into the driveway. Sherry, assuming it was his wife, went running up to her as she got out of the car.

“Is that man inside your husband?” she asked, gesturing toward the house with her thumb.

“Why, yes...Yes it is,” the woman said, obviously stunned. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

“Oh,” Sherry said, holding her chest and feinting weakness. “He's WONDERFUL. I've never HAD a man like that, and I've had a few... mostly teachers.” The girls cracked up.

“Well,” the woman said, indignantly. “I never...”

“Well I have,” Sherry said. “And, WOW! That man is GREAT. You sure are lucky to have a husband like him. I'm coming back every day this week to have some more of him.”

The woman stormed into the house, and the girls walked away laughing so hard they almost didn't hear the woman screaming at her husband. They high fived Sherry and asked her if she was afraid the man would call the cops.

“Hell no,” she said. “What would he tell them? A twelve-year-old girl named Caitlin beat me up?”

Apparently, he never did, or at least if he did, the cops didn't put two and two together and realize that the girl was not named Caitlin, but Sherry, the same girl who lived a few blocks over who had beaten up every boy between the age of twelve and sixteen who lived on her block. As the girls relived the memory while sitting cross legged on Sherry's bed, they were laughing so hard, they didn't hear the knock on the front door at first.

It was the cops, saying they had received a complaint about the music being too loud. Sherry didn't even have to ask who it was that called. They lived at the end of the block with a street running along side their house on one side and a vacant lot across from that street, and the house right next door on the other side was empty. That left the one across the street, and the old man who lived there – actually, he was fifty-five-years old – was the one who called. That son of a bitch, Sherry thought.

His name was Jake Richardson, and he and Sherry had had more than on run-in, although she had never physically tangled with him. Not yet, that is. The older man and the girl purely hated each other. It had started about three months ago, when he saw Sherry beating up that poor Rodgers boy up the street. He was sixteen-years-old and partially disabled, and the nicest boy you'd ever want to meet. Old Jake knew he'd never to anything to provoke Sherry, and that since she was mean as a snake, probably the only excuse she needed was for him to look at her in what she would claim was “the wrong way.” In other words, he probably just smiled at her like he smiled at everyone.

He yelled at her to get off of him, and when she yelled “Fuck you,” he called the cops on his Tracfone and told her. She got off the boy and headed straight for the old man. Knowing she'd jump on him when she got to him, he went back inside his house and locked the door. He watched her out the window as she turned around, but at least she left the Rodgers boy alone.

He had almost forgotten the incident, until he found his beloved dog Sophie on the front porch, dead as a door nail. Someone had cut her throat. He knew it was Sherry, and called the police. They talked to her, and of course she denied it. Next time he got in his car, he found someone had keyed the door. Once again he called the police, but they never did anything. No evidence, they said. And of course, they certainly had more serious crimes to investigate.

This was the second time he had called the cops about her music. The first time, he had knocked on her door and nobody answered. He knew her mom either wasn't home, or wouldn't answer the door. Or maybe she couldn't hear him as the music was so loud. Anyway, he called the police. The girl came over the next day and pounded on the door, yelling obscenities and saying, “Don't you fuck with me again old man, or I'll beat the SHIT out of you.” He had seen enough of the girl to know she probably could and would if he gave her half a chance. He did his best to stay away from her after than, tolerating the loud music.

But on this night he'd had enough. Usually she stopped around midnight or shortly thereafter, but on this night it was after 2:00 am. The next day was Saturday, and he didn't have to work, but his two grown sons and their wives were coming over for dinner. He had to get some sleep, or else he'd be half asleep during their visit. So he called the police, even though his wife pleaded with him not to call.

“You know what that girl is like,” Louise pleaded with him. “You know she'll find some way to get even with you.” He said he knew, and he did. However, he didn't know the half of it. He didn't even know a tenth of it.

The girls slept most of the morning, having been up all night, but by noon Sherry was up and ready to go after the son of a bitch. Denise and Britney were all for it, wanting to see her beat up another grown man, but then a car pulled into his driveway and a young couple, presumably husband and wife, got out and went into the house. A few minutes later another car drove up and another couple, about the same age or maybe a little older, got out.

“It can wait till tomorrow,” Denise said. Of course, by then she and Britney wouldn't be there, and would miss the fireworks, so she was very disappointed.

Sherry kept an eye on the house, hoping the people would leave, but they didn't. Then around 1:30 pm, they saw the young women and Jake's wife leave the house. Ms Richardson called out “We should be back well before dinner,” then she and the other two women got into her Toyota Corolla. That meant that only Jake and the two young men were probably the only ones there, and would probably be alone for at least three hours. Perfect.

“What d'ya say, girls?” Sherry asked. “Looks like one man for each of us.”

Denise and Britney were very excited. Although they didn't have quite the reputation Sherry had, they were quite the bullies themselves, but neither girl had ever beaten up a grown man like Sherry had, and they were anxious to turn those men every way but lose. So across the street they went, saying things like, “I can't wait to get my hands on one of 'em,” and “This is gonna be so much fun.”

“Just remember,” Sherry told them. “You can do anything you want to the other ones, but the old man? He's mine. All mine.”

Jake and his son Paul, age thirty, and Steve, age twenty-five, were watching a baseball game. The old man was wearing a plaid short sleeve button-up shirt with blue jeans and an old pair of sneakers and white socks. Paul was wearing a knit polo shirt and jeans and a pair of athletic shoes. Steve was wearing a similar shirt and shoes with a pair of khaki pants.

Jake was enjoying this time with his sons, both of whom had made him proud. They were both college graduates and had good jobs. He only wised they didn't live so far away. Paul lived in Atlanta, which was about two hundred miles to the north, and Steve lived in Savannah, which was about the same distance to the east of where Jake lived, which was in Thomasville, GA.

He was thinking how fortunate he was that they were doing so well, and that Atlanta and Savannah weren't really that far, when he glanced out the window and saw the girls walking across the street toward their house. He didn't know the two younger girls, but he's seen them with Sherry, and from what he had heard, they were also bad news.

“Oh, shit,” he said.

Denise was wearing a white tee shirt with Justin Beiber's image on it along with a pair of short, tight black Lycra workout shorts with black flip-floppy type sandals with one inch heels. Underneath, she wore a maroon sleeveless gymnastics leotard. Britney wore a plain black tee shirt with white short shorts with a black sleeveless leotard underneath and flip-flops. Sherry wore a white tee shirt with the words “Don't Fuck With Me” across the front. The tail was cut into strips like fringe. She wore a pair of very short, very tight denim cutoffs, and as usual, she was completely barefoot.

“What's up?” Paul asked.

“It's that little bitch from across the street,” his father answered.

“The one who killed Sophie?” Steve asked. His father had told them about that, so they already knew a little about Sherry. Unfortunately, they were about to learn a whole lot more, not to mention the fact that they would also become well acquainted with her younger friends.

“The same,” his father said. Both men could hear the concern in their father's voice.

“Should we call the cops?” Paul asked.

“No,” Jake responded. “Not until she gives us reason to,” he said. “I'd rather wait until then than just call and have 'em think I'm scared of three little girls, the oldest of whom is only thirteen.” He would later regret not calling when he had the chance, considering it the biggest mistake of his life.

Last edited by dirksneath; 15-Nov-18 at 22:08.
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Old 15-Nov-18, 17:40
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Default Re: The girl gang

I'm eager to read chapter 2 ! Your stories are fun to read. It's refreshing to have antiheros as main characters.
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Old 15-Nov-18, 20:27
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CHAPTER TWO



Jake got up and locked the door. It wasn't enough, however. He sat back down to continue watching the game, expecting a knock on his door any second. However, what he heard first was the rattling of the doorknob. Since the door was locked, Sherry simply stood back and kicked the door in with her bare foot.

BAM. All three men jumped up, ready to defend themselves. Paul and Steve were concerned, but not frightened. Why should they be? These kids may have been bad news, but they were still just little girls. Their father, however, was very worried, and with good reason.

All three girls were carrying switchblades. Sherry immediately went for Jake, and when he saw the knife, he froze. She got behind him and held the knife to his throat. Jake was an average sized man and Sherry was tall for her age, almost as tall as Jake. Steve was right at six feet tall and so Denise, who had slipped out of her sandals, had to stand on tip-toes to hold the knife to his throat.

Britney, the shortest of the girls, had also kicked off her flip-flops, and she chose to go after Paul, who was shorter than his brother and father. Even though he wasn't much taller than she was, Britney jumped on his back and wrapped her small but powerful legs around him as she placed the knife to his throat.

“What d'ya want?” Jake asked.

“You,” Sherry said, kissing him lightly on the cheek, but it was not a kiss of affection and he knew it. “I want you, old man. You're mine. You belong to me.”

“Then let's you and me settle this and leave my sons out of it,” he said.

“Uh-uh,” Sherry said, pressing the knife a little more firmly against his skin. “We saw you had company, and I promised the girls they could pick out a man and do whatever they liked with them. I mean, no sense in me having all the fun.”

“Please don't kill us,” Steve said.

“Shut up, or I'll cut your goddamn throat,” Britney threatened.

“I hope we don't have to go that far,” Sherry said, “but by the time we're through with you guys, you might wish you were dead.”

“So what's the deal?” Jake asked. “You ain't told me what you want yet.”

“My friends are gonna fight your boys,” Sherry said, “and when they're through with them, you and me are gonna tangle, old man.” She then looked at Denise and Britney and said, “I assume you've each picked out which one you want?”

Denise said, “Yeah, I kinda like this one. I just hope he knows how to fight. It's more fun when it's a challenge.”

“This is crazy,” Steve said.

Steve had never been athletic, like Paul, who had played baseball in high school and college. He was therefore not much of a fighter, although he really didn't think he'd have that much trouble with a little girl. He was concerned that he and his brother and father might accidentally hurt the girls, assuming the one holding a knife to his daddy's throat was serious.

Paul felt pretty much the same way. He had no doubt that if these girls really wanted a fight, and if he was going to go up against the little girl on his back, he'd certainly have no problem beating her. He just didn't want to hurt her. However, girl was very confident, and with good reason. All three of these girls were tougher than any boy in their classes, and stronger than many in the upper grades.

“I definitely want this one,” Britney said, giving Paul a tight little squeeze with her legs. “He's cute.”

“We're not here to mess around with 'em,” Sherry said. “We're here to totally destroy them.”

“Aw,” Britney said, giving her man a sloppy wet kiss on the cheek. “I don't see why we can't do both.” She crushed him harder with her legs. Even though she was younger and smaller than her friends, she had the strongest legs of the three. She knew if she could get her legs around him when they fought, it would be all over for him.

“Beat him up first, then you can do anything you like to him,” Sherry said.

“Yay!” Britney said, giving Paul an even bigger wet kiss on the cheek. “I can't wait to have my way with you.”

“There ain't no sense in involving my sons,” Jake said. “This is just between you and me.”

“Nope,” Sherry said. “We can't help it if your boys are in the wrong place at the wrong time. They're gonna have to fight my friends, just like you're gonna have to fight me.”

“What kinda fightin' you talkin' about, girl?” Jake asked, concerned about the switchblades. He thought the crazy kid was talking about a knife fight.

“Hand to hand,” Sherry said. “Mostly fist fighting and wrestling.”

“You mean... I'm gonna have to fight and wrestle this crazy little girl that's got a knife to my throat?” Steve asked.

“Watch your fucking mouth, asshole,” Denise said, pushing the flat side of the knife into his throat.

“Okay, who wants to go first?” Sherry asked. Meanwhile, she guided Jake over to a nearby armchair, one that matched the sofa, forcing him to sit down. Sherry then sat in his lap, still holding the knife on him.

“Me,” said Denise. “I can hardly wait to beat the shit out of this wussy pussy boy.”

“Okay,” Sherry said. “Britney, why don't you and your boyfriend get comfortable so you can watch the show?”

Britney climbed down off of Paul's back, still holding the knife where he could see it. She then pushed him toward the sofa, and he sat down. Even though there was plenty of room for her, Britney also chose to sit in her man's lap, putting the knife back to his throat.

“Mmmmm,” she said, as she wiggled her butt. “Is that a big old phone in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?” she asked.

“That reminds me,” Sherry said. “No calling for help. You might want to give up your phones, gentlemen. If you don't, your daddy ain't gonna have a chance to tussle with little old me, 'cause I'm gonna slice his throat so deep, his head'll fall off.”

Steve and Paul reached in their pockets and brought out their iPhones. Denise took Paul's phone and walked over to Steve for his, since Britney was still snuggling in his lap and didn't want to get up. She then tossed them behind the sofa so that they would not likely be able to get to them during the fight. Sherry held the knife a little closer to Jake and took his Tracfone, frowning at the obvious cheapness of it. She gave it to Denise so she could do the same to his phone.

“And now,” Sherry said in the voice of a ring announcer, from her position in Jake's lap. “The first match. In this corner, weighing in at... How much you weigh, girl?” she asked Denise.

“Fuck, I don't know,” she said. “What's that got to do with it?”

“Never mind. In this corner, ready to beat the shit out of the wimp in the other corner... Denise.” Denise raised her hands in the air, clenching her fingers into fists as she paraded around.

“In the other corner,” Sherry said, “is some wimp whose name I don't know and don't care. All I know is Denise is gonna kick his ass all over the ring. He'll be beggin' for him mama before she's through with him. Okay, ding ding ding. Come out fightin'.”

Denise retracted the blade of her knife and gave it to Sherry, then walked back into the center of the room to face Steve. She was now ready to fight, except for one thing. She pulled off her tee shirt, twirling it like a stripper after removing an article of clothing and tossed it in Steve's direction, then wiggled out of her shorts, pulling them down to her ankles and kicking them aside.

“Now you get to watch my friends tear your sons to pieces, old man,” Sherry said, practically snarling as she glared at him. “And when they're through, it'll be just you and me. And I can hardly wait.”

“Now, let's you and me wrestle, big boy,” Denise said to Steve as she went into a wrestler's crouch, challenging him. “Come on,” she said, circling him. “Come on.”

Steve was already stunned by the insanity of the situation, but seeing the girl strip down to what he thought was a one piece bathing suit was really shocking. “How... how old are you, little girl?” he asked.

“Old enough to kick your ass to hell and back,” she responded, still circling him. He turned with her, keeping his eye on her. “But if you must know, I'm twelve. Sherry's thirteen,” she said, looking in her direction, “and little Britney over there is eleven.”

Britney waved at Steve, then gave Paul a hug, still managing to keep the knife in place, and kissed him again, only this time, she pulled on his neck until he was partially facing her, enough so she could reach around and kiss him on the lips. It wasn't an open mouth kiss, but still, it made Paul very uncomfortable, especially knowing how young she was. Little did he know that before this little girl was through with him, he'd have a lot more to worry about than a little kiss. A LOT more.

Meanwhile, Denise had moved in on Steve and forced him to lock up with her. They shoved each other, and Steve was surprised at how strong his little antagonist was. She pushed him into the nearest wall and punched him in the stomach, then kicked him in the groin. When he doubled over in pain, she pushed his head down a little further and clamped her legs around it, then looped her arms up through his, locking his arms in place as she put her hands on his back. She leaped in the air just a little, and brought him down, smashing his face on the floor.

“Ow! Shit!” he shouted. His nose was bleeding, but he had no time to nurse his wound, as the little girl, anxious to continue the fight, was on him.

Denise grabbed his hair and pulled, saying, “Get up,” as if he had a choice.

She then slammed her fist into his face, knocking him back against the wall. Steve slid down the wall, and the girl grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back up again. She backed up a few steps, then slammed her body into his, pressing him against the wall. She stood on her tip-toes and glared at the frightened young man, her look signaling him that she was daring him to do something, anything. She wanted some fight.

“Do something, asshole,” she said. “Or else I'm gonna kick your ass all over the place.”

“Why?” he asked. “I mean, I don't want to fight.”

“Too fucking bad,” she said, still on her tip-toes and pressing her body against his, glaring at him. “'cause I do, and if you don't fight back, what happens is gonna be bad, real bad, for you. Actually, it will be anyway, but at least you'll have some chance of keeping me from killing you.”

The little girl had no intention of actually killing anyone. They weren't that mean. At least, not yet. She just wanted to give him some motivation to fight her. He grabbed her shoulders and tried to push her away, but Denise put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him right back. Whether she was truly stronger or not, she was definitely the most aggressive. At least she wasn't hurting him, but she was humiliating him, making it clear she was in control.

Denise then grabbed the hapless man by the collar and pulled, dropping to the floor on her back and monkey flipping him so that he landed behind her, on his back. Steve slowly got to his knees as the little girl, who had already gotten back to her feet, moved around to face him. Suddenly she was in the air, and before Steve could reach his feet, the girl's bare feet crashed into his face, busting his nose, which had already been slightly injured during the pedigree.

“Holy shit,” Steve said to himself. “This little girl's KILLING me!”

Meanwhile, Jake was looking on in horror. He knew how dangerous these girls were, and he also knew his youngest son was no fighter. This girl may have only been twelve-years-old, but she was beating the shit out of Steve, and he knew already that even though Paul might put up a good fight against the younger girl, he himself was in no shape or condition to fight Sherry, even if she was only thirteen. He had to somehow get help.

Sherry was busy watching her friend brutalize Steve, so Jake, knowing she was distracted, pushed her out of his lap and headed for the landline phone on the end table next to the sofa. The young girl was up and after him in a second, hitting him from behind and taking him down, just as he picked up the handset. She got up and stomped his head with her bare foot and reached over, grabbed the cord, and pulled it out of the phone jack in the wall, then raised it over her head and bashed him over his head with the base of the phone.

She then grabbed him by his hair, which was thinning with age but still long and thin enough for her to pull. She immediately placed the knife back to his throat and said, “You fucking bastard. You try something like that again and I'll cut your goddamn Adam's apple out and make you eat it.”

The cruel young girl then got behind him and pushed him back to the chair, where she sat down then pulled him from behind on top of her, so that he was practically sitting in her lap. Keeping the knife on the Adam's apple she had just threatened to surgically remove, she wrapped her legs around his waist and more or less buckled him in so that he wouldn't be as likely, or as able, to get up until she was ready to fight him. Just to make sure he got the message, she tensed her leg muscles and applied a tremendous amount of pressure to his midsection, causing him to groan in pain.

Meanwhile, Denise continued to work on Steve, who was now on his feet, back peddling away from the girl as she advanced on him. In desperation, he threw a wild punch at her, which she easily ducked, then smashed her fist into his face. He fell to the floor and Denise jumped on him, wrestling him. Over and over they rolled, and before he knew it, she straddled him and started punching him in the face, over and over.

Tears started streaming down Jake's face as he watched the barbaric assault on his youngest son by the little bitch. “Please,” he begged Sherry. “Make her stop.”

“Maybe his daddy should have taught him how to fight,” she snarled at the older man. “Then maybe he wouldn't be getting the shit beat out of him by a twelve-year-old girl.”

“But... they weren't even here last night when I called the police,” he pleaded. “This ain't got nothing to do with them”

“It does now,” Sherry said.

Paul was also watching in horror. He desperately wanted to get up and help his little brother by kicking the little she devil's ass, but with a knife at his throat, he didn't dare. He knew he could easily handle this little brat wiggling around in his lap. She was looking at him more than she was the fight, licking her lips and occasionally telling him she was going to do more than just kick his ass. “Just you wait,” she told him, wiggling around and licking her lips.

He knew the time was coming when he'd have to fight her, and he could hardly wait. He'd knock that wicked, hungry grin off her face. Maybe then the girls would leave and his daddy wouldn't have to fight the other girl. Jake had a heart condition, and Paul was as concerned about the possibility of his heart giving out on him, even before his time came to fight, as he was anything else, but for now he was helpless to do anything.

Steve was on the floor, blood oozing out of a busted lip and pouring out of his battered nose. Denise had gotten off of him and was strutting around him, occasionally nudging his face with her bare toes. “Get up and fight me, you worthless piece of shit,” she goaded him. “I'm only twelve-years-old old, and I'm just a girl, and I just beat the SHIT out of you, and you know what else? I'm not finished, that's what.” She then fell on him and wrestled him again.

Before he knew what was happening, she had her arms around his neck and her legs around his midsection. She tensed her muscles and applied so much pressure he thought his body was going to implode. It felt as though the little girl was trying to absorb his body into hers. He slapped and punched her legs and pulled at them, but it was like hitting a brick wall and trying to free himself from a steel vice. The young man then started crying.

“Please, stop,” he tearfully begged her, sobbing loudly by now.

“Make me,” she hissed in his ear, then she bit the same ear, causing him to scream in agony.

The cruel girl actually chewed on his ear, causing him to scream even louder. She stopped and said, “Shut the fuck up, or I swear, I'll kill you right now.” He stopped screaming, but still whimpered, as his daddy looked on and cried even harder.

“Enough,” Jake sobbed. “Please, this has got to stop. Let me take his place. I'll fight all three of you if I have to, just make her stop.”

“Oh, no,” Sherry told him, putting her lips close to his ear. “You're not gonna fight anybody but me.”

“Please, I give up,” Steve cried. “I'll do anything, but please, stop. It hurts, it hurts so bad.”

Denise gave him an extra hard squeeze with her arms and legs. Steve stopped begging for mercy but only because he couldn't breathe.

“Okay, Denise, that's enough,” Sherry finally told her, then went into her ring announcer mode again. “The winner and still champion – DENISE,” she declared.

The girl finally stopped squeezing him and got up, putting a bare foot on his face and raising her arms in the air in victory. “Now you have to do something for me, unless you want me to hurt you some more.”

“No,” Steve begged. “No, I'll do anything. Anything.”

“In that case,” Denise said, her foot still on his face, “kiss and lick my bare feet.” She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to his knees.

“Oh, no,” Steve said in kind of a whiny voice.

“Wanna fight some more?” she asked. “Want me to put you between my legs again?”

“No,” he said, still whimpering.

“Then do it, motherfucker,” she demanded, sitting down in front of him and extended a foot.

He did. He took the heel of her foot and kissed the top, and she said, “Kiss it all over.”

He kissed the top in several different places, then the sole of her foot as well as her toes. She offered him the other foot and he did the same with that one. Then she said, “Lick it. All over.”

“No, please...” he whined.

“Okay, back between my legs you go,” she said, pushing him down and straddling his chest.

“No, no, I'll do it,” he said. She rolled off and once again extended a bare foot to him.

“I want every inch of my bare feet covered in your spit,” the mean little girl said. This was something she had learned from Sherry when she destroyed the man whose home she had invaded a few months ago. She had made a couple of boys do it, but having a grown man kiss and lick her feet was like, totally awesome.

After his tongue had covered every part of her foot, top and bottom, as well as her toes, she said, “Between the toes, loser.”

He then licked between her toes. She then made him lick her other foot, top and bottom, all over, including between the toes. “There's a good boy,” she said, reaching over and patting him on the head, scratching his scalp lightly with her fingertips, then said, “Now, suck my toes.”

“Enough!” Jake said. “He gave up, he kissed and licked her feet, let him go.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Sherry said, pushing the tip of the blade into his throat enough to break the skin just a little. He quickly shut up.

Steve was a completely broken man. He did as he was told, sucking her big toe and the one next to it, then the other three toes. The pathetic, badly beaten man was then forced to do the same with all five toes of her other foot.

“There's a good boy, such a good boy,” she said. “Too bad we didn't bring any doggy treats. He deserves one.”

“Sucking your toes was as much treat as he deserves,” Britney said. “Right, boyfriend?” The question was addressed to Paul, who refused to even look at her.

After finishing with him, Denise got the knife back from Sherry. Pressing the button, she flipped the blade out and approached Steve, getting behind him and putting it back under his chin as she pushed him to the other end of the sofa from where Britney was holding Paul captive. Forcing him to sit, she plopped down, straddling his lap, keeping the knife in place while entwining her fingers in his hair and pulling his head back, exposing his throat.

She was making it clear that she had an easy target if he decided to put up a struggle while her younger friend fought his brother. However, Steve had been so badly beaten and humiliated, he was in no mood or condition to put up any kind of a fight, so he just sat there and allowed the little girl to continue tormenting him as she pleased.

She had won, and more than that, the girl had completely brutalized him, and felt she had a right to do anything she wanted, and right now she wanted him to know that even though their wrestling match was over, she could still put him through as much agony as she pleased. He got the message and just sat there, tears still streaming down his cheeks as he wondered if this torture would ever end.

“Okay,” Sherry said. “Next match.”

“Yay!” That's us, boyfriend,” Britney said, jumping up and pulling Paul off the sofa by his hair. “It's you and me, now, and I can hardly wait to DESTROY you.”

As Paul reluctantly stood, Britney flicked her switchblade to retract the blade and handed it to Sherry, then pulled her tee shirt over her head and started tugging at her shorts, wiggling her tush as she slid then down to her ankles and stepped out of them. “I'm gonna make you kiss and lick my bare feet and suck my toes, just like Denise,” she warned him. “But first, it's ass kicking time.”

“In this corner,” Sherry, once again the ringmaster, announced, “at only eleven years of age, Britney!” Britney strutted around in a circle, pumping her fists in the air, looking at Paul and licking her lips.

“In the other corner, another asshole who's about three times older than his opponent and who's gonna get the worst ass whipping he ever even thought about,” she said, referring, of course, to Paul, who, unlike his opponent, just stood there, wishing to God he was somewhere else.
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Old 16-Nov-18, 15:27
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Default Re: The girl gang

CHAPTER THREE



Paul was tempted to give up right now and get the foot worship shit over with, if necessary, rather than have to fight the girl, but he was confident that he could beat her and hopefully save his dad from having to fight the other girl, who was obviously the leader of the group and who would probably want to continue working his father over even after he submitted. If beating this girl would relieve his father of having to go through all of that, not to mention all the stuff with the girl's feet, he was anxious to do it. Plus, he suspected that an immediate submission wouldn't fly with these bitches and that he'd have to fight this little girl anyway.

The precocious little girl, now wearing nothing but a sleeveless black leotard, approached the man, doing a provocative strut, moving her hips from side to side, arms extended as she waggled her fingers at him in an invitation to engage her. “Come on, big boy,” she said. “Let's wrassle,” giving the word “wrestle” a common country pronunciation.

By now Paul was disgusted and totally enraged, wanting nothing more than to punch the little girl's lights out, but he waited. No matter what the other girl had done to his brother, he was determined that he would not make the first move or throw the first punch. She would have to take the fight to him, THEN he would beat the snot out of her.

He didn't have long to wait for his little nemesis to make her move. Suddenly, she was in the air for a drop kick, her bare feet hitting his chest and knocking him to the floor. She landed on her butt but got up immediately, and just as Paul pulled himself up into a sitting position, she came down on him, wrestling him. They rolled over each other with the little girl ending up on his chest, straddling him and punching his face repeatedly.

He rolled her off but was careful to avoid her legs. Paul had seen what the other girl had done to his younger brother with her mighty thighs, and even though this girl was smaller, she obviously had powerful legs, too, judging from the muscle definition. Both girls, but especially this one, had the legs and bodies of a dancer or a gymnast, probably the latter, as he somehow couldn't see either one of them dancing, except on the face of a victim. The leotards also indicated they were dancers or gymnasts.

He quickly got to his feet and raised his fists. The girl had used her feet to knock him down, then hit him hard in the face with her fists, stunning him with her strength and ability to inflict pain. He now felt completely justified in beating the shit out of her and wiping that hungry looking grin off her face. She got up and faced him, licking her lips in anticipation of tussling with her new boyfriend.

“I'm gonna make minced meat out of you,” she said, then licked her lips again and said, “Mmmmmmm.” He was so sick of her lip licking, like she planned to make a meal out of him, which was exactly what Britney had in mind.

However, Paul had different ideas as he punched her hard in the face with a right hook, knocking her on her butt. Britney was surprised, and the initial look on her face reflected shock and at least some pain, but she wiped the trickle of blood from her bottom lip and slowly got to her feet. “Atta boy,” she said, facing off against him. “Fight me GOOD.”

Seeing that he wanted to fist fight rather than wrestle, she raised her fists. He landed a left jab, then another right hook, knocking her backward, but his time she stayed on her feet. She came back at him, launching her right fist at him, but he blocked it and hit her again, once more knocking her down.

Jake felt optimistic for the first time since Sherry had kicked the door in. He knew Steve never stood a chance, but Paul had done some boxing in college, and even though he had lost more matches than he won, he still knew how to fight, and was proving it. Maybe if he won, maybe if he beat the absolute crap out of this little brat, they'd leave, and Jake would not be forced to fight the girl who was the cruelest, most sadistic of the three little bitches. He knew that if he did, he wouldn't stand a chance in hell against her.

Britney got up, not smiling this time. She raised her fists, determined to beat this son of a bitch at his own game, even though she herself was not much of a boxer. She was a wrestler, and knew that at some point she would wear him down and take him down, then get those legs around him, and when she did, it would be all she wrote for her new boyfriend. Then she could drag him back to the sofa and do as she pleased with him, and she was all excited just thinking about it, because damn, he was so cute.

They slowly circled each other, and Britney finally landed a punch to his face, knocking him back a few steps. She advanced on him and was met with another punch to her face, but maintained her footing and came back at him with two punches, one which he blocked, but the other one landed, and he stumbled back another couple of steps. Feeling confident, she moved in on him, but was met with another punch, and once again she was on her butt.

Britney was very slow in getting up, but not because she was hurt that badly. A little, but not much. She had a high threshold for pain, and he would really have to land a lot of punches before she would give up, and she was gonna make sure that didn't happen. Of the three girls, Britney was the smartest, even though she didn't often act like it with her bratty attitude. Her brain was like a computer, processing everything he did, so that she could soon anticipate his every move. He would land several more punches before she could reach that point, but when she did, Mr boxer man would go down hard.

Paul connected with about two punches for every one the girl landed, but she learned something with each one. Before long, it was punch for punch, completely even, and soon the girl was advancing on him, landing two punches for every one he hit her with. She soon knew what he was going to do before he did, and that meant she could tell when he was about to let his guard down. She then easily ducked his punches and took advantage of the fact that his face was wide open, and would often connect with two punches as a result.

Paul was getting tired and scared. He no longer worked out, and even though he ran a couple of times a week, he was basically out of shape. No matter how many punches he threw, the girl ducked and dodged most of them, and the ones that connected no longer had much impact, as he was growing weak, especially since most of her punches were connecting, and goddamn the girl was strong. She was now knocking him down more and more often, and it took longer for him to get to his feet, and when he did, the little girl danced around him, punching the shit out of him, and he was soon back on the floor.

“Come one, Mr boxer man, come on,” Britney said, taunting him and nudging his face with her toes. She placed a bare foot on his face and pushed him back to the floor. That probably wasn't allowed in boxing, but she didn't care. There was no referee to call her on it, and since she never played by the rules, she could do anything she liked, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Jake looked on with growing horror. The little brat was beating him. Unless Paul could make a comeback, it was gonna be over soon, and he felt his stomach churning with fear as he realized that meant he was going to have to fight Sherry. As concerned as he was for his son, he knew that all he had to do was submit, and even though he'd likely have to kiss and lick the little girl's feet, and probably suck her toes, he'd be back on the sofa recovering, while he got the snot beat out of him by the girl who was the strongest of the three and by far the most dangerous. Jake prayed a silent prayer asking God to please give Paul the strength to beat the little bitch.

Meanwhile, Paul was practically dead on his feet as Britney toyed with him. “Come on, fight me, big man, Mr boxer man,” Britney challenged him with an evil grin on her face. “Fight me.”

She faked several punches, just to see him flinch. Then without warning she aggressively moved in on him and landed five quick punches to his face, backing him up so that he fell against the wall, still standing, but just barely. She had him on the ropes. She backed up a couple of steps, then advanced on him again and delivered two more devastating punches, and he fell to the floor on his stomach at her bare feet. She poked his face with her toes, even clinched his nose between them, and looked down at the badly beaten man, knowing she now had him where she wanted him.

“Fuck this shit,” she said. “I wanna wrestle.” She then jumped on top of her beaten foe, her victim, and did just that.

Jake was crying again, knowing his oldest son had lost. His terror rose even more when he saw her go after him with her legs, as he had seen what the other girl had done to Steve, and he knew that if his older son couldn't fight her off, she'd wrap him up like a Christmas present. Like Paul, Jake could see the muscle definition in this girl's legs, and knew that when she got him with those powerful thighs and started clinching his body between them, it would be pure agony for his son.

Meanwhile, Denise was forcing Steve to watch the brutality. Now and then she pulled his hair or poked his eyes with her fingers, and sometimes hit him in the face, just 'cause. No matter what she did, she kept the knife on him, reminding him of what she could easily do should he choose to fight back.

Britney slipped her arms around Paul and squeezed him tightly, then gave him long wet kiss on the cheek and said, “Hey, boyfriend... Soon to be in the worst pain of his life boyfriend.” As she taunted him, she also went after him with her legs, but he retreated, scooting backwards as she slid her body along the floor after him, throwing her left leg out in an attempt to capture his body. The heel of her foot fell off, as she missed the first time she tried to get him.

The little girl was trying to catch him with one leg and pull him over and on top of her so that she could grab him with her legs. He figured that out right off the bat, as that's pretty much how the first girl had gotten Steve, only he hadn't what she was doing until it was too late. Since Paul had been paying attention, he thought he had a fighting chance, but he didn't know Britney. She wasn't one to give up easily, especially since she had worn him down while fist fighting him.

The two fighters wrestled on the floor, around in a circular motion, and the man kept backing away from the girl's lethal legs and she kept pursuing him, her legs like hounds after the hare. She tossed her leg over him again and almost had him, but he somehow twisted away, and the heel of her foot once again slid across his body and onto the floor. Britney didn't miss a beat, however, as she kept going after the badly beaten and exhausted man, knowing it wouldn't be much longer.

“You'll soon be mine, all mine,” she hissed in his ear, then nibbled on it lightly with her teeth. “My legs are going to totally destroy you. Stop them if you can.”

He tried, but he couldn't. She finally caught up with him, and her foot got caught under the back of his shirt when she threw it over his body. When he felt the sole of her cold bare foot on his back, chills ran up his spine, and not because her foot was cold. He knew what she was doing, and it scared him shitless. Sure enough, she used her foot to slowly push him over and on top of her. He tried pushing her away, but she was too strong. She just kept pulling him in toward her, and he was soon on top of her as she shot her other leg up and slammed both legs into his body, locking her ankles and pulling him into her. She tightened her arms and legs around him and applied pressure.

“I got you,” she whispered in his ear. “I got you good, mister.”

And damned if she didn't. He had never felt such pain in his life, and she was only operating at about 75%. After a few seconds, she cranked it up to 85%. Damn, the little girl's legs were strong, incredibly strong. He was in too much pain to be appropriately impressed. It hurt so bad, so goddamn bad. Before long, he was crying.

Sherry, still holding her man between her legs from behind, whispered in his ear, “What she's doing ain't half as bad as what I'm gonna do to you, old man.” She then crushed him between her legs so hard he screamed in agony.

Fortunately for old Jake, his young antagonist relaxed the pressure, while still holding him firmly. She didn't want to detract from what Britney was doing to her victim. Jake turned his head away, unable to watch the brutality. Sherry turned his head back around and said, “Look at her. Look what she's doing to him.” She peeked over his shoulder and saw he had his eyes closed, so she held the knife to his eyes and said, “I've got my switchblade about three centimeters from your right eyeball, so I suggest you open your eyes and watch your son being demolished by an eleven-year-old girl, or else I'm gonna spear your eyeball like a grape and pop it in my mouth and eat it.” As much as it upset poor Jake, he opened his eyes and watched.

Paul had a bad cut above his left eye from the beating Britney had given him, and blood was now streaming into it. As he tried to wipe the blood from his eye, he couldn't help but think this was the worst experience of his life, by far. The little girl was brutalizing him, and had already told him she would “have her way” with him after the fight.

God help him if the girl was serious. He wanted no part of that kind of relationship with a little girl not even close to being a teen, but he also didn't want her beating the shit out of him. So if she wanted to do inappropriate things with him after she finished beating him up, he wasn't sure what he could do to stop her, but he damn sure would have to do something. Hopefully she was too young to know what having her way with a man meant.

Coincidentally, the girl was thinking about that. Mainly, she was more interested in messing with his mind than with his body when it came to that kind of stuff. She loved to tease boys, or in this case, a man, but when it came to anything other than kissing his face, smacking his lips with hers and a little rubbing of her body on his, that was about as far as she wanted to go. The idea of kissing a man and putting her tongue in his mouth, or making him put his tongue in her mouth, was gross, so there wouldn't be anything like that. But she was definitely gonna have fun with him when she was finished beating him up.

Meanwhile, poor Paul had other things to worry about. Britney had eased up on him a little, but now she suddenly bore down on him harder than ever, kicking it up to about 90%. He groaned in pain and would have begged for mercy but he couldn't talk because he couldn't breathe. He knew she would have to relax now and then to catch her breath, but in the meantime the pain and the awful fact that he couldn't breathe made things unbearable, and no matter what he did – pulling and punching her legs, pulling her hair – none of it worked. He cried harder than he had since he was a little kid.

The little girl crushed him without mercy. To make things worse, at the tender age of eleven, Britney was a champion swimmer (another thing that made her legs so formidable). She could hold her breath for long periods of time. In wrestling, that meant she would scissor him for well over a minute without relaxing to take a breath herself. She had to hold her breath to exert maximum pressure, or even a little less than that. Paul couldn't stand it. He pounded on her, pulled her legs and hair harder than ever, but she just bore down on him even more until he passed out.

Poor Jake was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. This was his fault. He should have known there'd be trouble when he called the police last night. And now these cruel, vicious little girls were destroying his sons, and the one with the knife to his throat was going to beat him up even worse, and who knows? She may even kill him. And yet he was helpless. Maybe if he apologized...

“I... I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm sorry I called the cops on you.”

“Which time?” Sherry asked sarcastically.

“Every time,” he said, starting to cry again.

“Yeah, I'll bet you are,” the evil young girl said. “But not as sorry as you're going to be when it's time for us to fight.”

“Please... Please, stop all this,” he begged, trying not to cry. “You've made your point, you've gotten even with me and then some.”

“Oh, no,” she said. “This is just the tip of the iceberg. When I get my hands on you in a few minutes, what my friends have done to your fucking wimpy ass sons is gonna look like a tickle fight.”

“Please,” he said, knowing how pathetic he sounded. “I'll submit right now if it'll help. You win. There's no need for us to fight.”

“Oh, but we're going to fight,” she said. “We're really gonna fight, you and me, and let me tell you all the things I'm gonna do to your fat ass. I'm gonna destroy your face with my fists and stomp what little is left of it into hamburger meat with my bare feet. Then I'm gonna choke you with my legs, just like Britney is doing to your son, only ten times worse. I'm gonna wrap my legs around your neck, and if you think your sorry ass son is in pain, wait till you feel my legs around your throat. Then I'm gonna get you in a body scissor, too, and put my arm across your throat.

“And if there's anything left of you, you're gonna spend about an hour worshiping my pretty bare feet, so you may as well start now,” she said, as she unwound her legs from his midsection and thrust a bare foot in his face.

Her feet were dirty. Not filthy, but dirty from her walking around barefoot. There were pieces of grass on the bottom of her foot from the walk across her yard and his, when she was on her way over to fight him. Jake also couldn't help but notice the rusty callouses, more evidence of this girl's disdain for shoes and socks. He had never seen this little girl wearing shoes, and wondered if she even had any, then figured she had to, on those rare occasions when she made an appearance at school. His thoughts were interrupted when she started rubbing her bare foot on his face, poking at his eyes and lips with her big toe.

“Do you think my feet are pretty?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he said, know he'd better say the right thing, no matter how disgusting it was. Jake had never felt so helpless and humiliated in his life.

“Tell me,” she demanded. I want you to say, 'Sherry, I love your pretty bare feet.' Say it, or I might just kill you right now.”

He hesitated, then said, “Sherry, I... I love your pretty feet...”

“Your pretty BARE feet,” she said, striking him in the nose with the heel of her pretty bare foot.

“I... I love you pretty bare feet,” he said.

The wicked little girl then rubbed the sole of her foot in his face again. “Lick it,” she ordered him.

He licked, crying so hysterically it got the attention of Steve and Denise. Even Britney looked up. He was glad to see that Paul hadn't noticed , but that was because he was barely conscious and on the verge of a breakdown himself. At least Steve's ordeal was pretty much over, although he would probably have to spend most of the rest of his life on a therapist's couch.

When he finished with one foot, she stuck her other bare foot in his face and demanded that he lick that one, too. He did, still crying. Sherry then made him lick between her toes. Then she said, “Suck,” as she stuck her toes in his mouth. He did that, too, crying harder than ever. Sherry finally gave him a break, not because the cruel girl had any mercy in her, but because she didn't want to distract too much from what Britney was doing to Paul.

What Britney was doing to Paul was knocking him out over and over with her killer legs. When he came to for about the fourth time, he kept his eyes closed so the girl would think he was still out, but she figured it out soon enough.

“You're faking,” she said.

To prove it, she began nibbling at his ear, then biting it, harder and harder until he cried out and tried to pull away. She had loosened her grip on him so that he thought for a second he was going to get away, but she tightened up her arms and legs and pulled him back for more torture, and after about a minute and a half, he went out like a light for the fifth time.

When he came to, she had released her grip on his neck so she could stare at his face. “Give up?” she asked.

But before he could say anything, she clamped her hand over his mouth so he couldn't. Remembering that in wrestling you could tap out, so he tapped her bare leg three times with the palm of his hand. She ignored it, not because she didn't know he was conceding, but because she didn't care. As she got older, she was getting more and more cruel with her victims, even more so than Denise. He then tapped even harder, and was soon slapping her leg so hard it got Jake's attention.

“Hey,” Jake said. “He's tapping out.” Turning his head slightly in Sherry's direction, he said, “Make her let him go. He's giving up.”

Sherry said, “Tap outs don't count. It has to be a verbal submission.”

“But she's got her fucking hand over his mouth,” Jake said. “He can't verbally submit, she'd got her hand over his mouth.”

“That's his problem,” Sherry said. “If he wants to submit, he needs to pull her hand away from her mouth.”

Paul was already trying to do that, but after hearing what Sherry said, he pulled at the little girl's hand even harder, but to no avail. She was just too damned strong. After about a minute, Britney flexed her legs harder than ever and soon put him back to sleep.

“STOP HER,” Jake demanded. “She's... She's killing him.” Jake was genuinely concerned that whether the child meant to or not, she may actually choke him to death with her legs.

Everything was quiet for a moment, and Jake heard a muffled popping sound. He wasn't sure what it was at first, then he heard another sound and realized it was coming from the direction of the two fighters. It was Paul's ribs. Britney was cracking one rib after another.

“SHE'S BREAKING HIS GODDAMN RIBS,” he shouted. “PLEASE, MAKE HER STOP.” He began crying again.

“Okay, Britney, that's enough,” Sherry said. “You are the winner. He's all yours now.”

As Britney released him, Sherry pushed Jake onto the floor with her bare feet, then stood and said, “The winner and still champion, Britney. Only eleven-years-old and she practically killed a grown man.”

“Yay,” Britney said, releasing the man and patting him on the face with a bare foot until he came to.

“Hey Sherry,” Britney said. “Do I still get to do anything I want to with him now that I beat him up?”

“Yes,” she said, “but it doesn't look like there's much left.”

Britney grabbed the battered and bruised man by the hair and started dragging him toward the sofa and said, “I'm the big strong cave girl, dragging her man back to her cave, where I'm gonna mess around and have my goddamn way with him. He can fight all he likes, but it won't do him any good. I beat the FUCK out of him, and now he's MINE.”

Sherry started to give Britney her switchblade back so she could keep Paul from interfering with her upcoming destruction of his old man, but decided against it. After Britney's brutal beating, he was obviously in no condition to do much of anything, and Britney was probably going to be so busy having her little girlish way with him, she might forget about the knife so he'd possibly be able to take it from her at some point.

Paul kicked and thrashed, trying to get away, but Britney easily got him back to the sofa, pushed him into a sitting position and straddled his lap. She put her arms around his neck and started kissing and licking his face.

“I'm gonna pretend you're an ice cream cone, and lick you,” she said. “I'm gonna lick you till there's nothing left.” Poor Paul struggled, but the little girl was not going to be denied.

As Jake slowly tried to get to his feet, Sherry put her bare foot on his face and pushed him back down, then in her ringmaster voice, she said, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the wrestling match you've all been waiting for, the main fucking event – Sherry destroys the ass of the snitch across the street, and he'll be lucky if she kills him, because if he lives, he'll probably be paralyzed from the neck down.” She then looked down at the man, her foot still on his face, glaring at him and listening to him crying.

“No,” Jake said, fear showing in his eyes as he cried harder than ever. “No, please... No!... NO!... ”
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Default Re: The girl gang

And now, the final chapter. (Cheers, applause and shouts of "Thank God it's over.")



CHAPTER FOUR



Jake threw her foot off his face, got up and made a desperate run for the back door, but Sherry wasn't having it. The poor man soon heard the terrifying sound of her bare feet stomping after him. The girl caught him when he was halfway across the kitchen, taking him down from behind with her arms around his waist. He hit the floor on his stomach, with the evil little girl on top of him. Sherry got up, straddling his body with her feet, grabbed him by the hair and dragged him back into the middle of the living room.

“Denise,” she said to her friend but without taking her eyes off her victim. “If he tries any shit like that again, I want you to take your friend and slice him a new mouth a couple of inches below his old one.”

“Will do,” Denise said, poking the tip into Steve's throat hard enough for it to draw a pinprick of blood.

“I am gonna hurt you so bad,” Sherry told her terrified victim, as she stood over him, straddling his trembling body. “Oh, how I'm gonna beat you up,” she said, then kicked him in the face.

“Please... ” the man said, trembling in not just fear but sheer, stark terror. “Please... Don't... I'm begging you... ”

Sherry pulled him up by the hair and punched him in the face, knocking him back to the floor. She grabbed him by the collar and picked him up, then pushed him backward, causing him to back peddle into the nearest wall where she hit him in the face again. When he started sliding down, she delivered a side kick to his throat, pinning him with her bare foot. Not only did it hurt like hell, but he was gagging and had difficulty breathing.

“Please don't do this to me,” he begged, still crying his eyes out. “I... I can't stand it.” She pressed her foot into his throat even harder.

“Shut the fuck up, old man,” she said. “I'm just getting warmed up. Wait till I really get started on you. You think it's bad now? Huh? Huh? You think it's bad now? You've never felt pain like the kind of pain I have waiting for you. I'm gonna mess you up so fucking bad.”

Jake thought she'd release him and was already dreading whatever was next, but she seemed content to hold him there. He grabbed her ankle with one hand and her toes with the other, trying to push her away, but he may as well have been giving the brutal girl a foot massage. He pushed and twisted on her toes, hoping to inflict some pain, but the girl kept her foot right where it was, and her cruel expression didn't change. She glared at him with a look of pure hatred, and something else. Pure evil.

The girl finally released him, but his relief didn't last longer than a couple of seconds, as she grabbed his hair and slammed his head back into the wall five times, then let him crumple to the floor, where she kicked and stomped him. After a few moments, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him up, threw him into the wall and backed up, then charged at him, her body crashing into his.

For several minutes, all she did was keep him against the wall by pressing her body against his as hard as she could. Jake pushed on her shoulders, pulled her hair and pounded the back of her head with his fists, trying to get the girl off of him, but she didn't budge. Once again, his efforts not only failed, they were totally ignored. That's when he realized something horrifying. This little girl was not only strong as hell and knew how to fight, but she was totally impervious to pain.

Unlike Denise, who simply had a high pain threshold, Sherry did not feel pain at all. She had a rare condition called congenital analgesia, which kept her from feeling it at all. You could break her arm and she'd keep fighting you with the other arm as if nothing had happened beyond losing the ability to use her broken arm. The downside of this condition was that people who had it could have a serious injury or medical condition and not know it, and therefore not seek medical treatment. The upside, in a fight at least, was obvious, and Jake now knew he had even less of a chance against this girl than he thought.

“I give up,” he said, then added “You win,” knowing it was probably too early in the fight. “I can't take any more,” he sobbed. “Please, I'm begging you to stop.”

“This fight is a no pin, no submission, no time limit match,” she said. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, as he realized she was going to keep fighting and hurting him until she was ready to stop, and God only knew when that would be.

Paul was busy fighting off Britney's childish advances, which consisted of kissing and licking his face and occasionally smacking his lips with hers. God only knows what she'd be doing to him if she were just a couple of years older, he thought. As preoccupied as he was, he could still see what the older girl was doing to his father, and couldn't watch her destruction of the poor man any longer, especially when she not only refused to accept his surrender, but told him basically that she was going to continue beating him up until she was ready to quit. Seeing his father crying and so terrified broke his heart but also made him angry.

He pushed his overly affectionate little antagonist to the floor and ran to the aid of his father. Britney was quickly up and after him, and tackled him just as he got there, knocking him into Sherry, who simply continued grinding her body against Jake as though nothing had happened. The little girl stomped Paul repeatedly with her bare feet, then grabbed his hair, pulled him up and punched him in the face, knocking him down, then bent down, grabbed him by the hair again and dragged him back and threw him on the sofa and straddled his lap, then went back to work on him with her lips, hugging his neck tightly as if nothing had happened. Sherry, vaguely aware of what happened, almost reached into her pocket for Britney's switchblade, then decided her little friend didn't need it, and went back to work on poor Jake.

Sherry got tired of simply giving her man a humiliating display of strength. She was ready to put some real hurt on him, so she punched him in the stomach, then stepped back and sent her bare foot into his face, kicking him against the wall. Jake slid to the floor and Sherry grabbed him by the hair and pulled him away from the wall, leaving him on the floor as she stood back, put her hands on her hips and glared at the man, who was crying softly, face down.

“Get up,” she said. He didn't. “I said, GET UP,” she said, then slammed her foot repeatedly onto the back of his head, then stood back, hands on hips once more.

She slowly got to his knees, then his feet. “Please... No more,” he begged.

“How pathetic,” Sherry said, practically spitting the words out. “I'm a thirteen-year-old girl, and you can't even defend yourself against me, much less come close to beating me. You don't deserve to live.”

At that point, Jake's terror reached a whole new level. Was this crazy little girl actually going to kill him? If so, they'd have to kill his sons, too, to eliminate the witnesses. He came close to bolting again, but remembered what Sherry had told the girl who had beaten up Steve, and didn't want his son to get his throat cut because of a cowardly attempt on his part to cut and run.

Sherry had no intention of killing him, but could tell by his facial expression that he didn't know that. What the hell, let him think I'm gonna kill his sorry chicken ass, she thought. The more fear she could instill in the man, the more fun it was. Even more than Denise and Britney, she loved to use psychological torture on her victims, terrorizing them in every way possible.

She delivered a back kick to Jake's face. He was still on his knees when her bare foot smashed his face, knocking him back to the floor. Sherry removed her shorts, pulling them down her long legs and kicking them onto Jake's face, then fell on the stunned man and wrestled him. She had no sexual reason for taking off her shorts. It was just that they were so tight, she found them too restrictive, and she really needed to be wearing nothing but panties for what she had in mind.

She straddled his head with her knees, and when the man realized what she had in mind, his eyes grew even wider with fear. Sherry slowly descended on him until her crotch was on his face. She wanted to suffocate him until he passed out, something that would have been difficult if she had been wearing those thick jean shorts. She ground on his mouth and clenched his nose with her fingers so that he was unable to breathe.

Jake struggled beneath his tormentor, jerking every which way, but there was nothing he could do to stop her from taking him out. Once again he knew that if he rolled her, she'd get those legs around him. Of course if she wanted to do that, she would, but he did not want to be the cause of it. He pounded on her legs with his fists, knowing it wouldn't do any good, but he couldn't just lay there and smother beneath her.

After a few moments, he passed out. When he came to, she was slapping his face with a bare foot, facilitating his coming back from his little nap. When he did, she fell on him and wrestled him. Over and over they rolled, with Sherry coming out on top. She straddled him chest and choked him with her hands, raising her body up and positioning herself so her face was directly over his, staring intently into his frightened eyes.

He grabbed her wrists and pulled, desperately trying to free his throat from her deadly grasp as she throttled him. Her face twisted into a snarl and her hair fell over her face and into his. He looked up at her with pleading eyes, knowing he'd find no mercy in this girl whatsoever. Jake knew that if he rolled, she'd probably just wrap her legs around him and crush him while she choked him with her hands, and he had no desire to go from a frying pan into a fire. As to what he could do, he was totally clueless.

Sherry finally released him, not out of mercy but because she just got bored. She got up, leaving him coughing and gagging on the floor. She walked around him slowly, hands on hips, nudging him with her toes.

“Get up,” she demanded. “Get up and fight me.”

“No,” he said, whimpering.

“Awww,” she said, squatting down beside him, looking into his face. “Did the mean widdle girl hurt you?” She asked, taunting him. “Well guess what? The mean widdle girl didn't hurt you nearly as much as she's going to.”

She crawled on him and before he realized what she was doing and could at least attempt to stop her, she rolled him, clamping her arms around his neck and her legs around his midsection, crossing her ankles behind him, and began crushing the hell out of him. Once again he couldn't breathe. Being choked or slowly suffocated were among the worst forms of death to Jake. He still didn't know if this crazy kid intended to actually kill him or not, but he would have preferred pain over not being able to breathe. Unfortunately, with this girl, he got a little of both. Actually, a lot of both.

She cranked it up a notch, loving the slow groan of pain that her excruciating choke and scissor hold was causing the poor man whose only crime was wanting a good night's sleep so he could enjoy time with his sons the next day. She held him between her legs facing him, then relaxed and, still holding him between her legs, turned his body until she was behind him, then re-locked her ankles, this time in front of him as she consolidated a rear body scissor on her suffering victim.

Seeing her bare feet in front of him, he grabbed her toes and twisted, expecting her to yell in pain and release him. She didn't. Then he remembered. This girl didn't feel pain. Therefore, no matter what he did to try to hurt her, it wouldn't work. He would have to somehow overpower her. That was his only hope. Of course, that meant he had no hope at all.

The man gave up twisting her toes and grabbed her feet, using all his strength to try to pull them apart, but once more he failed. She pressed her legs against him as hard as she could, causing him to scream in agony, until she squeezed the air out of his lungs. Since he couldn't breathe, he couldn't scream. Jake pulled her legs and arms, pushed them, slapped and punched them, but nothing worked. All he could do was lie there in agony.

Sherry tensed her muscles and pushed her legs into his torso harder than ever. He pounded and punched her legs until he felt himself growing weak, then stopped. He was too exhausted to continue. Her attack was so debilitating he couldn't put up any more resistance. The fight had gone completely out of the man. Sherry continued pouring on the pressure until he passed out.

Sherry eased up, and when he came to, she released him and slid further behind him, pulling his head back into her waiting crotch, snaking her legs around him in a rear neck scissor, once again crossing her ankles in front of him and putting pressure on him slowly, a little bit at a time. Jake knew what she was doing, but was once again unable to fight her. He could barely hold his head up, but it didn't matter. Sherry was holding his head in place with her legs.

“No,” Jake said, realizing he was in for even more punishment. “No... No...”

“Yes... Yes... Yes... ” the cruel girl responded, tightening up on him.

“Please, please let me go,” he begged with what little strength and energy he had left, which wasn't much. “I... I give up.”

“Doesn't matter,” she said. “I'm a long was from being finished with you. There's a whole lot more pain and suffering waiting for you, asshole.”

After a few moments she switched from a standard neck scissor to a figure four, tucking her right foot under the crook of her left knee and grabbing it with her hand and pulling it back, causing unbearable pressure to his throat. Jake realized she could kill him this way, and wondered if this was it, if she actually was going to murder him. If so, he knew she was going to torture him for a long, long time before finally snuffing him.

She grunted as she squeezed his neck and he groaned in pain as he also suffered the agony of not being able to breathe. His hands grasped her lower right leg, the one she had pressed against his throat, the choking leg, and he tried to push it away, but he didn't have the strength left to push an open door, much less the muscular leg of a powerful nemesis like Sherry. Poor Jake was right about the girl wanting to hurt him as long as possible. Sherry occasionally eased up on him, but only because she didn't want to kill him. She just wanted to hurt him for a long, long time and hurt him very, very badly.

Meanwhile, Denise continued tormenting Steve, working her way behind him so she could get her legs around him again. “No,” Steve said, when he realized what the little girl was doing, but he couldn't stop her. The evil child trapped him in a rear leg scissor and started squeezing. She continued to hold the knife to his throat, but didn't really need to. Seeing the little girl's bare feet in front of him, he grabbed her toes and began to twist them in a desperate attempt to free himself, just like his father had tried with Sherry.

The little girl responded by pressing the knife to his throat and saying, “Leave my toes alone, loser.” He left her toes alone and continued to struggle between her brutal legs.

Britney was so focused on playfully tormenting Paul that she wouldn't have noticed if a tornado had touched down in the room. However, she looked up at one point and saw her friends using their legs to torture their men and said, “Fuck, why not?” and so she stood up, put her arms under Paul's armpits and pulled him forward a little so she could wrap her legs around his midsection, trapping him in a frontal leg scissor. When he realized what she was doing, he fought her, punching her and pulling her hair, but as before, to no avail. She crushed him while still kissing and licking his face, humiliating and hurting him at the same time.

Meanwhile, poor Jake had reached the point of almost wanting the evil little girl to kill him, to just quickly break his neck with those mighty legs of hers and get it over with. If only the other girls would leave his sons alone. They had nothing to do with this, with any of it. They just picked the wrong day to visit. He found himself wishing his wife and daughters-in-law would come home, but then wondered if the vicious children would just attack them and beat them up, too.

Sherry wasn't thinking about anything except hurting her victim as much as possible, more than any boy she'd ever beaten up, and more than the man in the suit and tie who just happened to come home from work at the wrong time and get beaten up just 'cause. She wanted to take this son of a bitch as close as possible to death and then beat him up some more. She wanted to keep those lethal legs around his neck as long as possible, and tensed her leg muscles and cranked the pressure and the pain up to a whole new level, watching her victim squirm like the worm he was.

Sherry did not intend to kill him, but she was more out of control than she'd ever been. Given the time, she probably would have ended up taking his life whether she meant to or not, as she didn't have the self-control to hold back. Her contempt for this old fart, her absolute hatred of him, was such that she wanted him to suffer oh, so much, and to see him dead and bleeding on his living room floor. She knew it would be mistake to kill him, but at the rate things were going, she might not be able to stop. She bored down on him with her legs, pulling back on her bare foot, choking him almost into oblivion.

Jake wiggled around and slammed his feet on the floor, desperate for relief from the girl's incredible scissor hold. But Sherry wanted to inflict even more pain on him, so she bawled her fist up and slammed it into his face, hard enough to break his nose. He cried out in pain until Sherry flexed her leg muscles and shut off his air supply. Then she hit him again, smashing her fist into his lips, then his right eye, almost guaranteeing him a shiner, which he was probably gonna have anyway since she had already just about destroyed his face, mostly with her bare feet rather than her fists.

Sherry was a long way from finished, a very long way. She loosened her legs, but only so she could twist her victim around so that he was facing her. He was too weak to put up a fight, so it was easy. The cruel little sadist positioned him facing her and pulled his face into her crotch. Only then did he put up any resistance, but all he could do was slap her legs a couple of times, although not hard enough to have even killed a mosquito.

“Have you had enough?” she asked, toying with him.

“Mm hmm,” he said, his voice muffled by her panties covered crotch.

“Too fucking bad,” she said. “'cause I haven't had enough. Not nearly enough. I'm gonna ruin you, mister, gonna hurt you and squeeze you between my legs long and hard. I want you to suffer more than anybody has ever suffered before.”

She held his face tight to her crotch and her legs around his neck for a half hour, listening to his groans of pain and muffled pleas. He was crying so hard she figured her panties would be wet before she was through with him. That gave her a cruel idea, a very cruel idea.

She rolled him over and released him from her brutal neck scissor, straddling his face with her knees on the floor on either side of his head and her bare toes clasping the worn out carpet like claws. The wicked little girl then closed her eyes, scrunched up her face and waited. Then about thirty seconds later she peed, not caring that she was wetting her panties.

Sherry wanted him to feel her warm urine on his face. When the man realized what was happening, he struggled harder than he had in a long time, but of course it did him no good. All he could do was take it. The smell was awful, and some of it found its way to his lips. He wanted to spit, but was afraid the girl would react like a wounded animal and tear into him more ferociously than ever, so he just laid there and took it. Jake started crying again, wanting to die. That's all he wanted now, was to fucking die.

The only thing that saved Jake was the slamming of a car door outside. Denise looked out the window and said, “The women are back.”

Sherry released the man and got up, leaving his badly beaten body on the floor. She grabbed her shorts and quickly put them on, then told the other girls, “Quick. Grab your clothes and flip-flops and let's get out.” Then, looking down at Jake, who had opened his eyes and was staring up at her, she said, “This ain't over. We're not done.” She then rubbed a bare foot on his face, just to give him one more thing to remember.

Britney, still holding onto Paul with her legs, glanced out the window and saw the women getting out of their cars and heading for the door. “Can't we just beat them up too?” she said. “I'd love to beat me up some women.”

“No,” Sherry said. “Get your ass away from your new boyfriend and let's get the hell out of here.”

Denise was right behind Sherry, carrying her shorts and tee shirt in one hand and flip-floppy sandals in the other. Britney quickly gathered up her clothes and flip-flops and all three girls ran barefooted out the back door as the women entered the front door. The girls heard the women scream as they headed toward a street one block over, intending to take the long way home so as to not be spotted by the women. They didn't want them seeing them headed across to Sherry's house, didn't want the wives to see them at all so there would be no further witnesses to testify to what and who they saw after the brutal assault on their husbands.

Inside the house, Jake struggled to his feet right after his wife screamed. When she saw how bloody his face was, she screamed again. What she didn't know was that it had been ever worse before Sherry's urine washed some of it away. Meanwhile, Paul's wife, noticing the blood on his face, and especially the cut above his eye, ran to the phone, but Jake stopped her. He didn't want the police involved. Jake calmly explained what had happened and took full responsibility for it, pointing out that it was a personal feud between him and his young neighbor.

All three of the men were too embarrassed to tell the police that a thirteen-year-old girl had had broken the door in with her bare foot and that she and her little girl friends had beat holy hell out of them, using no weapons except the knives to keep them from escaping or helping each other out. They didn't want the police to know they had used their bare hands, bare feet, and of course their bare legs to torture them for at least two hours. Jake tried to forget what Sherry had said about it not being over, that they weren't done. He tried real hard, but it kept coming back to him, especially at night when he sometimes woke up screaming.

Still, Jake felt they had done the right thing by not calling the police. He explained that as juveniles, and very young juveniles at that, the girls would probably go to a detention facility for only a few months, maybe even just a few weeks, and when they got out, they'd be back to wreak havoc and revenge. Jake was afraid that next time his wife might be home and they would beat her up, too. As angry as Sherry may have been when she left, she would have been even madder after getting out of juvenile detention. He didn't want to give her even more reason for wanting revenge and coming back.

All three men were treated at the emergency room. Since they had obviously been assaulted and badly beaten, they knew the police would be contacted. Steve suggested they give a description of three young black men, saying they broke into the house and beat them and robbed them. They even suggested leaving their wallets in the car so they could say they didn't have them because they were stolen in the attack. However, Jake did not want to lie to the police and also have innocent young black men who were guilty of nothing but walking down the street and looking vaguely like the fictitious men they described being arrested for a crime they did not commit. He didn't want to be responsible for anything like that.

Paul and Jake were admitted for injuries but were out in a couple of days. Steve and his wife stayed until they were dismissed, then both sons returned to their homes. Jake's wife insisted that whether they told the police what happened or not, they had to move. Jake reluctantly agreed, and within two days they had rented an apartment and were packing to move.

During that time his wife was very nervous, constantly looking out the window to see if Sherry, with or without her friends, was headed for their house. She insisted on having friends over often, and made absolutely sure Jake was never home alone. Jake told her to relax, it was over, but secretly he was nervous, too, and couldn't wait to move now that the decision had been made.

On the day of the move, he saw Sherry standing across the street. It was the first time he had seen her since the day of the brutal attack on him and his sons. He ignored her, knowing she wouldn't attack him outside the home in front of the movers he had hired, but as they continued loading the truck, she walked up to him and stood next to him. Jake had not seen her walking toward him, or else he would have... Well, he wasn't sure what he would have done, but it was too late now, as there she was.

The girl was wearing a pink tee shirt and what appeared to be the same short, tight denim shorts she had worn on the day she had almost killed him. As always, she was barefoot. She stood there with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. Now that she was there, he didn't dare turn his back on her. His wife came out of the house, but when she saw Sherry, she froze.

The movers continued loading the truck, glancing at the young girl, no doubt thinking she looked damn good in those sexy little shorts. If they had known what she was capable of doing with those pretty little legs, they would have wiped those looks of lust from their faces.

Speaking almost in a whisper so no one else could hear her, she said, “So, you're moving, huh, motherfucker? What, you afraid the little girl across the street is gonna beat you up again?”

Jake said, “Get the fuck off my property, or...” he hesitated.

“Or what?” she asked, getting up in his face. “You'll call the cops? You must not have called them after me and my friends beat the shit out of you and your wussy pussy sons, 'cause I ain't heard from 'em.”

Jake said nothing. The evil girl continued, standing so close to him now that her body actually brushed up against his, causing him to tremble a little, but he refused to show fear by backing down. “A little birdie told me you're moving to Wildwood Apartments. Well, guess what? I got two real close friends who live there. I think you've met them.”

Jake's blood ran cold. The two damned little girls who had beaten his sons so badly that one of them had to be admitted to the hospital would be his neighbors. Thomasville was a small town, too damn small.

“We go swimming there every weekend, and sometimes during the week,” she said. “And since you and I have unfinished business, I'm gonna find out which apartment you live in. And when I do, I'm gonna come looking for you. Then when I find you, it'll be just you and me, although my friends may come with me in case your sons are visiting again... or if nothing else, just so they can keep your wife company while you and I settle our business.”

Jake was too shocked to say anything, so the girl continued. “And make no mistake about it. I WILL find you, when no one else is around, and if you think it was bad before... you just wait. It's gonna be worse, far worse when I get my hands on you again.” She let her words sink in, then said, “That's a promise.”

He stared at her, visibly shaking in fear now. “So...” she said, turning to leave. “I'll be seeing you.”

As Sherry walked away, swiveling her hips so the men loading the truck could see, Jake began to cry, softly at first. Then he fell to his knees on the lawn and cried like a baby, as his wife came up to console him.


THE END (maybe)
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Old 17-Nov-18, 14:17
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
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Default Re: The girl gang

Well that's it for The Girl Gang. Would anyone like to see this as a series, or with at least a sequel? If so, let me know. No big deal if you don't.
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Old 17-Nov-18, 18:05
Boze_Turk Boze_Turk is offline
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Default Re: The girl gang

Quote:
Originally Posted by dirksneath [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Well that's it for The Girl Gang. Would anyone like to see this as a series, or with at least a sequel? If so, let me know. No big deal if you don't.
I am hesitant, because I like the premise of your story and the things it contains, like physically enforced humiliation by the hands of a female. I am, however, bothered by the age of the females in your story. 13-year-olds are little children. Their bodies are so small, undeveloped and... absolutely nothing about them is sexy, yet.

Your stories would be much better if the females in it are are least 20 years old, or maybe even 18 or 19 years old (late teens), but not 13.
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