Go Back   Male vs Female | The Mixed Wrestling Forum > Mixed Wrestling & Fighting > Wrestling & Fighting Stories



Check out the latest release by Fight Pulse: Bianca vs Andreas.
Preview photos are available in this topic. Get this video at: Fight Pulse - MX-251.




Reply
 
Thread Tools Display Modes
  #11  
Old 01-Oct-18, 07:53
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
Banned
Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22
Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0%
 
Join Date: Dec 2016
Gender: Male
Location: Leesburg GA
Posts: 199
Thanks: 266
Thanked 531 Times in 125 Posts
Default Re: Smile For the Camera and Die

Part 6

He started to get in his car, but she jumped down and held the door, keeping him from closing it once he got inside. Then she wiggled into his lap, facing him, and placed her hands on his shoulders and smacked him on the mouth with her lips. He grabbed her arms, feeling she had given him no choice, and pushed her to the left, trying to force her out of the car. She refused to budge.

“Atta boy, we're wrestling,” she said.

“Oh no we're not,” he said, flustered. “Get off of me.”

“Make me,” she said.

He pushed a little harder, adjusting his position so that he was partially turned in that direction and had more leverage. She fell back, but he held on to her, fearing that if she fell, she might be hurt, and he didn't want to do that, fearing another confrontation with her crazy mom more than he feared anything she might do. Mistake.

She lifted her feet and placed them on is face, rubbing it. “Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat,” she said, then pulled herself up and hugged him. “And what I want to eat is YOU...for BREAKFAST,” she said. “I'm gonna eat you alive.”

Little girls these days! Had it gotten this bad? He hadn't dealt with a girl her age acting this way in nearly 40 years, when some still found him attractive and loved to engage him in rough and tumble action that he feared could get him in all kinds of trouble, and in some cases even tried to instigate inappropriate affection. One girl had even grabbed his hand and tried to force him to fondle her. So it wasn't just kids these days, but why this child was acting this way with a man in his 70s he couldn't figure, but he had to do something.

He held the car key in his hand, so he calmly inserted it and cranked the car, then pressed the horn and continued blowing it until the little girl got out of the car, then he slammed the door and started to drive off. The child kicked the door with her bare foot as he drove off and flipped a bird at him.

“I'm gonna get you,” she yelled. “I'm gonna get you GOOD for that. I'm gonna get you good and hurt you SO BAD. OH how I'm gonna beat you up. You just wait. You just wait, old man.”

He had the car window rolled up, but the radio was off, so he was able to hear everything she said. After buying groceries, he rode around for an hour, afraid to go home for fear she'd still be there. Finally, he nervously drove home, relieved to see she was nowhere around. He got out of his car and walked to the door, where he found a note:

“Al, I am going to wrestle you. You cannot stop me. The longer you wait, the worse it will be for you. Wrestle me now – OR ELSE!”

He remembered that her little friend, the one with the camera, had not been with her recently, and wondered. That little monster wanted it all on video so she could watch it and show it to her friends, bragging about how she beat up that old man. Of course, she hadn't expected him to give in, but still, he thought it was unusual. Brittany had a mild case of summer flu, but of course Al had no way of knowing that. He also had no idea that she really didn't expect him to ever give in. When she finally wrestled him, it would be involuntary on his part, as she would force her way in and give him no choice but to fight for his life, just like Pete and Mr Salvati, and then Brittany would be there with the camera to film it all, but first, she was gonna mess with him a little more, like a cat playing with a mouse before pouncing and going in for the kill.

The next day, he decided to stop being so intimidated by her. It had been a few days since he had sat out on his porch to read the paper, but it was a beautiful day, and he decided he was going to sit on the porch with his cat, McKinley, and read his paper. If she came around to harass him, he'd just ignore her. Sure enough, after about two minutes, she came up with Brittany, who was holding the camera and filmed her friend's attempt to interact with him. Ana was wearing a gray tee shirt, black shorts with horizontal pink stripes along the lower part of the legs of the shorts, Naturally, she was barefoot.

“He Mr Al? Wanna wrestle?” she asked. He totally ignored her, which suited her just fine. She continued. “You're gonna wrestle me whether you want to or not, old man, and here's what I'm gonna do to you. First, I'm gonna punch you in the mouth and bust your lips.” She moved up closer to him so that her face was about six inches from his, inside the newspaper. “Gonna hurt you real bad, old man,” she continued.

“I'm gonna give you a beat-down,” she said. “Know what that is? You'll find out. I'm going to beat the hell out of you with my bare hands, and bust your nose with my fists. Then I'm gonna kick and stomp the shit out of you with my bare feet. Gonna mess your face up so it looks even worse than it does now, and rub the blood all over your face, then make you kiss my bare feet and lick the blood off with your tongue.” Still he ignored her.

“You hear me, old man? You better. Then I'm gonna slam you into the wall and crush your body with mine. Gonna kick you in the balls and put your head between my legs in what they call a pedigree, which means I'm gonna take you down and smash your face on the floor. Then I'm gonna wrap my legs around your neck and squeeze so hard it'll hurt like hell, and even worse, you won't be able to breathe.

“Then I'm gonna do a bunch of other stuff to you,” she said. “Don't know what just yet, but you just wait. You'll be begging for mercy, but there won't be any mercy, it'll just get worse, 'cause know what I'm gonna do then? Huh? Know what I'm gonna do then?”

The man still ignored her, or pretended to ignore her. He was listening intently and trying to keep from shaking. He hoped she didn't know he was scared, but she could detect the slight tremble to his body, the bead of sweat working down his cheek, before dropping off onto his shirt.

The she put her mouth so close to the side of his face, he could feel her breath, and in a hoarse whisper she said, “Then I'm gonna fuck...you...up...real bad. I'm gonna fucking KILL YOU.”

That got his attention. He finally looked at her. She had finally gotten his attention, so she continued. “That's right, old man. I'm gonna kill you, gonna kill you with my bare legs.”

She lifted one leg and placed her bare foot on top of his left leg, then slid it across his other leg until she had one leg draped over both his legs. She then slowly crawled into his lap, facing him, and placed her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes, which to her gave him the look of a deer caught in the headlights.

“I'm gonna wrap my legs around your stomach and use my leg muscles to force the life out of you,” she continued. “I'm gonna squeeze you real tight and crush and destroy you. And there ain't nothing you can do to stop me.” She then slowly raised her legs as though she were going to do it then, but his back was pressed against the back of his chair, and there wasn't any way she could get them around his midsection the way she wanted.

“That's enough!” he shouted, getting up so quickly she spilled out of his lap and onto the porch, her butt landing hard on the concrete. Al couldn't help but wonder if they'd edit that out of the video. He immediately opened the door, allowing McKinley to go in first, then followed the cat inside and closed the door.

“Gonna getcha, Mr Al,” she called out to him as she got up. She tried to follow him inside, but he had locked the door. She pounded on it with her fists, and continued calling out to him. “Gonna get you GOOD,” she said. “Gonna make you beg me to stop, but I'm just gonna keep hurting you until I kill you. KILL YOU. KILL YOU WITH MY FUCKING LEGS. GONNA SQUEEZE AND CRUSH THE LIFE OUT OF YOU..” Brittany, concerned about the neighbors hearing her, stopped her and they were soon walking away from the porch, as Mr Al pulled back the curtain on the window and watched them go.

“Gonna get you so good and hurt you so bad with my legs until you fucking DIE,” she yelled. Brittany had grabbed her arm and was trying to pull her away, as she said something in her ear, probably trying to get her to shut up. The little girl was obviously even crazier than he thought. She had scared him a little until recently, and now he was terrified. He didn't believe she would do all that, or even that she could. But she was nuttier than a squirrel turd, crazier than a snake's armpit, crazier than that Jim Carey fellow on LSD. No telling what she'd do next.

Next day he saw no sign of her, but there was a big scratch on the driver's side of his car, like someone had keyed it. He knew it was her, but had no way to prove it, so he didn't report it. The cops were probably tired of coming out on reports about Ana Bentley, and he had no doubt that she was probably not even responsible for some of the things she was accused of. He couldn't be sure she did this, as he never knew of her being caught for this kind of stuff. If it didn't involve the infliction of pain and a little bit of blood shedding, Ana usually wasn't interested.

Then McKinley disappeared. He was a tomcat who refused to use the litter box, so Al had never had him neutered or declawed, instead letting him go out. He was sometimes gone for several days, but always came back, scratching on the door. However, even though it had only been a couple of days, he was concerned, because of Ana. He knew she was probably responsible for the scratch on his car, and wouldn't put it past her to do something to McKinley. Then he walked out and there was McKinley on his front doorstep, dead as a door nail. He was sprawled out with blood on his head, where someone had apparently bashed his head with a brick or a rock or something. He had no doubt who did that. It was Ana.

He went down the street to borrow a shovel from the Lanes and buried McKinley in the back yard. At first he thought of asking Mr Salvati, then remembered suddenly that he had been murdered just a few days after Pete Rayburn. He was not close to either of the two men, especially Salvati, but their brutal deaths had upset him for the simple reason that they were two older men who lived alone, like himself, and was afraid someone was after the old men in the neighborhood.

Suddenly his blood ran cold. Could it be...No! As evil as the child was, that's one thing that wasn't possible. The men had been beaten to death, and even though the child was perhaps mean enough, evil enough even, to kill eventually, he didn't thing she was at that point yet. Besides, it appeared both of these men had been beaten to death without a weapon, one of them choked and the other having had his neck broken, and Ana, strong as she was, couldn't have done that. Could she? Of course not. He put the thought out of his head, or thought he did. However, that night, he tossed and turned and woke up in a cold sweat from a nightmare in which he had been struggling for his life – wrestling for his life – against a powerful little girl, one with blonde hair and dirty bare feet. That's how she was killing him, choking him with her filthy bare feet, her toes pressing on his neck, strangling him. But it was a dream, that's all. Just a dream.

The wicked little girl was outside the next day, waiting for him. Brittany was with her again, with that damn camera. As he walked outside, Ana said, “Wanna wrestle?” He ignored her, didn't even say anything to her about the scratch on his car or McKinley.

As he started to get in his car, Ana said, “Nasty scratch on your car there, Al.” He ignored her, so she said, “Sorry to hear about your cat.”

He stopped and slowly turned. “How did you know about McKinley?” he asked.

She said, “Word gets around.” He hadn't told anyone, not even Ms Lane, from whom he had borrowed the shovel.

“No one knew” he said, now very angry. “I told no one.”

Brittany just smiled, and said, “You must have. Word gets around.”

He got in his car and drove away. He was certain he had not mentioned it, not to Ms Lane or anyone else. Even if he had, she wouldn't have told Ana, but maybe she told someone else, and...No. He hadn't mentioned it. He was angry, this time with himself. He should have called the police. Now it was probably too late. The cat was dead and buried. Not that it would have mattered anyway. They don't perform autopsies on cats. It's not like there would have been a crime scene with an investigation. Still, he should have called.

Later that afternoon, there was a knock on his door. He looked out and saw Ana and Brittany. Both girls were wearing shorts and tee shirts, and Ana's hair was in a ponytail. He then sat back down, making sure the door was locked. A few seconds later he heard a loud noise at the door. BAM! The damn kids were trying to break in. BAM! There it was again. He got up and just as he got to the door, there was another BAM and the door flew open. He grabbed it and said, “That's enough! I'm calling the police.”

Ana was putting a flip flop back on her foot, the one she had used to kick the door in, and more surprising than her kicking the door in, more surprising that she was able to kick a door in with her bare foot was the fact that she was wearing anything, even flip flops, on her feet. And that other damn little girl was filming it!

Al tried to close the door, but Ana was on him, pushing him back. They locked up like two wrestlers, and Al suddenly realized she was getting her way, wrestling him, but he had no choice, as he had to get her out of his doorway, so he pushed as hard as he could but she pushed back even harder, and was winning. She pushed him out of the doorway and just like that, she was in his house, Brittany following her and filming everything. As soon as they were inside, Brittany closed the door and kicked out of her flip flops. Ana pushed Al back onto his sofa. She sat on his lap and instructed Brittany to stop filming long enough to show Al the recent vids. He tried to push her away, but she pushed back, pinning him to the back of the sofa. For now, he stopped struggling, curious about the videos.

“Are you sure?” Brittany asked.

“Duh. Yeah,” Ana answered. “It's not like he's gonna be able to tell anyone.”

Not be able to tell anyone? The hairs on the back of Al's neck stood up when he heard that. He tried again to push her out of his lap, but she slapped him, and he stopped. Any further attempt would result in wrestling, and he would rather have her in his lap for a few moments than give her what she wanted. He would think of something to get her off of him, but first, he wanted to know what these videos were.

The first vid they showed was an edited one of Ana's fight with Pete, with most of it being what she was doing to him with her powerful legs. She had the poor old man wrapped up in her arms and legs, facing him, in what at first looked like a lover's embrace, but what the girl was doing to him wasn't what you'd call loving. Sound was enabled, and at one point he thought he heard a muffled popping sound, and wondered it the girl had cracked one of the man's ribs, which was exactly what had happened. There were close-ups of his face, the grimace of pain, his eyes scrunched shut, then the camera panned down to the reason, which was the child's legs, completely bare as the shorts, which were short to begin with, were riding up her thighs so that you could clearly see the powerful muscles, tense and well defined, as they literally crushed the man. This was not fake. It was not Photo-shopped. The girl was torturing him.

Al recovered from the shock enough to ask, “When...when was this video taken?”

“The day I killed him, dumbass,” Ana responded. Al's fear increased as the realization sunk in.

The next portion of the video showed the same legs wrapped around Pete's neck, with Ana holding her bare foot to pull one leg back, causing maximum pressure on his throat with her powerful calf. The old man was pushing on her leg with both hands, trying to free his neck and throat from the pressure. This was supposed to be his death, although she was just getting started, really, and Pete suffered for at least a couple of more minutes before he passed out. The video was carefully edited so you'd hardly notice that anything had been cut. It showed him passing out, and yet still her legs clenched his neck, and the hand pulled back on the foot, continuing to put pressure on the throat for a few more seconds. Then she released him, and pushed his head away with both bare feet.

“That's where I thought I killed him, but he was still alive. I had to come back and kill him again later. That's when his neck got broken, but I don't have that on video, thanks to little miss scaredy-cat,” Ana said, as though describing a video of a gymnastics routine in which the person filming it had neglected to get the part where she stuck the landing.

“You mean...you killed Pete? You killed him?” Al asked, with growing terror.

“Yep,” Anna responded. “Let's go to the tape of old man Salvati,” Ana instructed her bestie.

Al suddenly had trouble breathing, and he noticed his heart was pounding in his chest. “I think I'm gonna be sick,” he said.

“You're gonna feel a lot worse before I'm through with you, but don't worry. After about an hour, you won't feel anything,” the child said. Al knew then that the most evil person he had encountered in his 72 years was this eleven-year-old girl who was sitting on his lap, but he was afraid to try to push her away, even though there was plenty of room on the sofa. He had never been more frightened in his life.

Brittany, more considerate than Ana, even if she was an accomplice to murder, got up, padded into the kitchen and brought back a glass of water for Mr Al. After gulping it down, he saw the next video, which was of Mr Salvati. Despite what he had just witnessed, it didn't occur to him that she had also killed him. His brain had enough trouble processing the fact that he had just witnessed a partial recording of the brutal murder of a man who lived across the street. The fact that another man, who lived even closer and had been murdered in similar fashion, did not raise alarm bells for him until the girl rang them herself by showing him the next video.

This one had also been edited, but not very much, as it was shorter to begin with. He saw the struggle at the man's door, in which he frightened man, who was not nearly as terrified at that point as he soon would be, tried to keep the little girls from entering his house, but little Ana wasn't having it. Clad in nothing but that pink swim suit (leotard, actually), the girl was pushing her way in, slowly but surely.

At first he didn't see the point of the closeup of her bare feet, until the video showed Salvati slipping and sliding backward as the child slowly forced her way in, and Al realized that his shoes were probably keeping him from getting a good grip on the floor, whereas the child's bare feet were adhering to the concrete outside like she had put glue on them first. Al's cheap athletic shoes had stuck to his floor a little more easily, but he had still not been able to keep the little bitch out, as she was so damn strong, she easily had overpowered him, and now, there she was, sitting in his lap, showing him videos of two other old men she had killed so that he could see what she was going to be doing to him in a couple of minutes, maybe just a few seconds.

Once she got in Salvati's house, he went for the phone, but she was on him. She then got him in a bear hug, then tossed him on the floor, and what he saw next disgusted him. After trying to flee, the girl had once again tossed him to the floor, then put her bare foot on his face, and when he was able to dislodge it, she just replaced it with another bare foot, pressing down on him. There was another scene, similar but worse, in which she rubbed her bloody bare foot on his face, the blood probably being from his busted nose, and she was making him kiss the sole of her foot, then made him lick the flood from it. She did the same thing with her other foot, and it was all close up, as Brittany was obviously an expert with that damned camera.

“I can't watch any more,” he said, seriously sick to his stomach.

“There's only a little bit more, and none of it is my feet,” she tried to assure him.

The rest of it focused on her legs, those powerful legs, and what she did to poor old Salvati with them. She literally crushed the life from him, and this time the literal focus alternated between those leg muscles, flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing, and his face and the look of terror on it, as he realized she was killing him, just as she promised she was going to do. She was murdering a man in cold blood, simply through the power of her legs, and to a lesser degree, her arms. Almost as bad being able to see what was happening, he was also able to hear the horrific moans and groans of pain from the man, as well as the grunts of exertion by the little girl as she worked him over. He closed his eyes, but that just made the noise of the fight even worse.

“Please, stop,” the man pleaded with her, looking away but still able to hear the horrific moans and groans of the man, and the noise made by his little antagonist.

“Oh, we'll be stopping the video soon, so we can work on the next video, and you know what that means,” she said. “But for now, I want you to see what happened to Mr Salvati. I want you to watch him die.”

She put her hand on his neck and turned his face back to the camera screen. By now tears were forming in his eyes as he watched the child's bare legs slowly destroy the old man, who also had tears streaming down his cheeks, as he was in horrible pain and distress and knew that the evil child was killing him. Al watched as Mr Salvati slowly died between the legs of the little girl.

When it was finished, Brittany took the empty water glass from Al, placed it on the end table and went back to filming, as Ana jumped up, kicked off her flip flops while pulling off her tee shirt to reveal the pink leotard, the same one she had worn the day she did her pinup pose on Al's car, the same one she wore while killing Mr Salvati. While Al watched in horror, she stripped off her shorts, pulling them down to her ankles and kicking them toward Al.

“Now,” she said, now wearing nothing but the leotard while looking at the doomed man, “Let's wrestle.”



To be continued...
Reply With Quote
The Following 2 Users Say Thank You to dirksneath For This Useful Post:
  #12  
Old 01-Oct-18, 13:50
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
Banned
Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22
Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0%
 
Join Date: Dec 2016
Gender: Male
Location: Leesburg GA
Posts: 199
Thanks: 266
Thanked 531 Times in 125 Posts
Default Re: Smile For the Camera and Die

Part 7


Al got up from the sofa, but not to wrestle. He was determined to get away. The child was standing between him and the front door, so the closest exit he believed he could reach was all the way in on the other side of the house, to the left of him, as to get to the front door, he would have had to get by Brittany, who probably would not have tried to stop him, but this route would also take him by Ana. So he chose the side exit, although it was a long way for him to run, and he knew the little girl would chase and probably catch him before he got there. Still, he had to try.

He ran, getting what he thought was a pretty good head start, but Ana screamed, “You'll never get away from me,” as she pursued him. He could hear the slight scuffling of her bare feet behind him, and before he was halfway there, she took him down, tackling him by wrapping her arms around his thighs.

He landed on his stomach, with the child standing with her feet straddling the man's lower body, just high enough so she could flip him over on his back, which she did by leaning down and moving him with her hands and one foot. She then sat on his stomach, still straddling him, and crawled up his body, trapping him in a school girl pin. Brittany was standing over them now, getting it all on film.

“Gonna wrestle me now?” she asked.

“Do I have any choice?” he responded.

“Nope,” the girl said, then went to work on him. She punched him as hard as she could in the face, then again, and yet again. Blood was soon streaming out of his nose, onto his upper lip and down onto the collar of his white Polo shirt, a recent purchase. But blood on a new shirt was the least of his worries, as he wouldn't be wearing this shirt in his coffin.

He put his hands up to block the punches, but her fists continued to reign down on him. He grabbed the sides of the child's chest and rolled, taking her down and off of him, but she stopped hitting him and grabbed his hair, taking him with her so that while Al ended up on top of the girl, she shot her legs up, wrapping them around his chest and locking her ankles behind him. She then clenched her strong legs and forced the air out of his chest.

Al not only couldn't breathe, but felt pain the likes of which he would not have believed possible from the naked thighs of an eleven-year-old girl. He looked into her eyes, silently pleading for mercy he knew would not be forthcoming. He recovered enough to hit the child, but she was unrelenting, ignoring the punch as she threw her arms around his neck, pulled him down and into her, now using her arms to hold his neck as tightly as possible, adding to his misery.

There was a long groan of pain from Al, and a short grunt of exertion from the child she poured on the pressure to his neck and especially his chest. He had heard that both of the murdered men had had broken ribs from tremendous force being applied to them from someone who had to be incredibly strong, but had figured that was just neighborhood gossip. He no longer believed that now.

Desperate for relief, he punched and pulled at her legs, which of course didn't help, then he started rolling, pounding on the child's back and head as they wrestled across the floor, the little girl going along for the ride, but that did nothing but expend precious energy. They ended up on their sides, the child continuing to crush him.

“This is gonna be the easiest one yet,” she said to Brittany. We may be out of here in time to watch that movie I told you about. You know, the one about those spy kids?” Both girls laughed. Al vaguely remembered this movie called Spy Kids from several years back, but didn't know if it was that one or a more recent one, and didn't care. He knew he wasn't going to be around to join the party.

Al has no idea what the try next. He was still trying to figure out how to escape her, wishing he had allowed her to start the fight closer to the other door, the one in which the girl forced her way in, as it was the exit closest to his car. If he somehow freed himself now and ran in that direction, she'd be on him again in no time. He'd have to figure out a way to somehow stop her from catching him, then maybe he'd have a chance to at least get out of the house, then maybe there would be some neighbor out and about, perhaps Emma Jenkins, who lived right next door, although she hardly ever left home, not even for a daily walk, and wasn't very friendly and would probably just ignore his cries for help.

But if he could at least get outside, it would surely discourage her from continuing the fight, wouldn't it? Not that being in plain view stopped her from beating up all those poor little boys over the last couple of years, but she wasn't trying to kill them. Certainly she would not have brutally murdered two other old men this way, and now try to kill another old man, outside for the world to see, would she? Would she? He didn't know, but he had to get outside and find out.

Meanwhile, the little girl continued to destroy him with her insanely powerful arms and legs on the floor of his house, and he was clueless as to any way to beat her or get away from her, so all he did was lie there, hoping against hope that she'd get bored and stop. But she didn't. All she did was continue putting pressure on his old body, forcing as much of the life from him as she could. And it hurt. It hurt so bad, and he couldn't breathe. Finally, he passed out.

When he came to, the little girl was standing over him, diddling at his face with her naked toes. He slapped her foot away, so she replaced it with the other foot. “Suck my toes and maybe I'll think about letting you live,” the cruel child said as she started trying to force her toes into his mouth.

He reacted by biting them as hard as he could. “Fuck you,” he said.

The girl stomped his face hard with her bare foot, then reached down and pulled him up by the hair, then brought her fist back, lingering a few seconds to give him time to think about what she was about to do. Then she slammed the fist into his face, knocking him down. Once again she bent down to pull him back up, but he grabbed her ponytail and pulled her down on top of him. He pushed her away and struggled to his feet, but the girl also started getting up and wrapped her arms around his legs, taking him back down to the floor, where they wrestled.

He knew by now he had to avoid letting her get those legs around him, as he had no chance against her if that happened. She got one leg around him when they were on their sides facing each other, and tried to pull him over and on top of her. He grabbed her knee and tried to force the leg away from him, but the girl was too strong. She pressed her bare foot onto his back and pushed him toward her, and he was powerless to keep her from taking him down and on top of her, and when she did, she extended her other leg, slipping it around his body, and locked her ankles behind him, consolidating her scissor hold, this time a little lower on his body. His ribs were no longer under the gun, but it still hurt, and once again he couldn't breathe.

“Gotcha,” she said.

He struggled to his knees with the child's legs still tightly coiled around his waist. Then she re-wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into her, but the man was still determined to get to his feet. Ana had been through this with the other two men, and knew what he was going to do, probably before Al did. He started running, or trotting, to the nearest wall, wanting to slam her back into it and break her hold, so she just released him and dropped to her feet, then grabbed his arm propelled him into the wall instead.

He hit the wall and crumbled to the floor, easy prey for the mean little girl standing over him, who started stomping him with her bare feet. He covered up and tried to roll away, but she easily followed him, continuing to reign down pain on him with each stomp.

“Please stop!” he begged. “Why are you doing this? I'm sorry I called the police on you that time, but that was a long time ago. Is that what this is all about?”

The girl stopped and stared at the man, who was still cowering on the floor, then said, “No, that ain't what it's about. It' about me wanting to kill you, just because I can and it's fun. Little girls just want to have fun, you know.”

“That's no Goddamn reason and you know it,” he said, trying to appeal to her conscience, too naive to realize she didn't have one. That was the thing about sociopaths. They had no consciences to appeal to.

“What difference does it make?” she asked. “You're gonna be dead soon, so it won't matter anyway.” She then moved around behind him and lowered herself as she got him into a full nelson, dropping to the floor and applying pressure to him. He struggled, reaching behind to grab her arms, trying to figure out a way to break her grip, but as always, it was in vain. She applied as much pressure as possible in a simple show of her strength. She wasn't going to kill him, she was just having fun, showing off.

“I'm so much stronger than you it isn't even funny,” she said. “I could kill you in the next five minutes, but I'm not. I'm gonna keep showing you how strong I am, gonna keep hurting you, just for fun, gonna play with you for awhile like a cat and a mouse. Then I'm gonna kill you. I want you to think about that,” she continued. Then she got to her feet, pulling the man up while maintaining the full nelson. She stood on the tiptoes of her bare feet while pouring on the pressure. He still struggled to free himself, pulling at her arms, but he was trapped, as she continued the full nelson as both the man and his antagonist grunted and groaned from the fight, the man partially because of physical exertion but mostly from the pain, the little girl mostly because of the former. She finally got bored and flung him to the floor.

“You fucker, you need to fight me, 'cause if you don't, I'm gonna kill you,” she said. “Of course I'm gonna kill you even if you fight back, 'cause you can't beat me, but you need to at least try.”

He struggled to his feet and said, “Why? You're right, I can't beat you. I don't have a hope in hell, so why should I even try? You want a challenge? Go pick a fight with a younger, stronger man, someone who has at least a chance of beating you. You're like any other bully. You pick fights with people who are weaker than you, whether it's little neighborhood boys you know aren't as strong as you, or old men who could possibly beat you if they were thirty or forty years younger, but not now, not when their in their 60s and 70s and have trouble just going to the bathroom.

“You're just a coward, a mean little girl who picks on people who can't fight back, or at least who don't have a chance of beating you,” he continued. “You're far more of a coward than I am, far more than those men you killed. They fought for their lives because they figured they had to, but it didn't do any good. It won't do any good for me to fight either, so I'm not. You wanna kill me? Then do it and get it over with, then go home and watch a shitty movie 'till you get bored again, then go find some other old man to beat up and kill 'till the cops figure out it's you and come and arrest you. I'm not gonna contribute to your idea of fun by putting up a fight, so do what you want to me, because I'm no longer gonna try and stop you.”

He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he stopped, then turned and fled toward the door she had broken in a few moments ago. She pursued him, and he stopped, turning around long enough to throw a punch at her in hopes of knocking her down, but he swung wildly, and she ducked it, then wrapped her arms around him waist, getting him in a bear hug but without trapping his arms. She squeezed as hard as she could, and since his hands were free, he punched her arms, then tried to punch her face, but couldn't, as she had lifted him up and had her chin resting on his shoulder, cheek to cheek with the old man, so all he could punch was her head, which should have done the trick, but with this girl it didn't. She just continued crushing him with her arms, showing him that even though her legs were stronger, she could inflict serious harm with her arms as well. This continued for over a minute, and the man had trouble breathing.

She lowered his feet to the floor and took him down, arms still tightly wrapped around his chest. They wrestled, rolling over and over, the man doing everything he could to avoid her lethal legs. But the girl was mostly interested in using her arms to torture him, and pinned him to the floor as she continued the brutal hug. They lay there fore several minutes, and the only sound in the room was the heavy breathing of the two combatants, the little girl and her victim. She finally released him and started crawling up his body, trapping him in a schoolgirl pin as she glared down at him, both still breathing hard from the struggle. He found the strength to fling her off, then got up and tried again to run for the door, but she grabbed his ankles and took him down again.

“Thought your weren't gonna fight back, old man,” she said, crawling onto his back. “Thought you weren't gonna contribute to me having any fun,” she continued, as she rolled him over and coiled her legs around his chest, locking her ankles in front of him, or trying to. This time he caught her bare feet and somehow prevented her from closing her legs around him. He crawled out from between her legs and stood, stomping her three times before turning and running out the door.

She was up and after him in no time, and caught him just outside before he could reach his car. She grabbed his shirt and pulled, stopping him in flight, then tried to wrap her arms around his neck, and he turned to face her, punching her in the face and knocking her down. He was determined only to fight her if it helped him escape her, as that's the only chance he had of living, of escaping slow death at the hands and legs of this lethal little girl who would kill him just because she was bored, and because it pleased her.

He made it to his car, but had foolishly locked the doors to keep her from getting inside and stealing what little he had of value, and even then, only things that were important to him, like the car registration in the glove compartment. He pulled the key from his pocket and began unlocking the door, as it was an old clunker and he had no fancy remote key. She was on him just as he unlocked it and was trying to get inside.

“Oh no you don't,” she said, pulling him back.

“Help! Somebody help me,” he called out, hoping someone would hear and call the police, but no one was in sight. Emma Jenkins was nowhere to be seen, and the blinds and curtains to her windows were pulled to so no one could see inside and so she couldn't see what was going on outside. Still, he called out, desperate for help, for someone to save him from this half naked, barefooted little savage who was hell bent to slowly destroy him.

Al jerked and pulled every which was to escape her clutches. She put her hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming, and another hand in his hair as she slowly dragged him back away from the car. He knew if she got him back in the house, that would be it, his life would be over. He was exhausted from the fight and she wasn't even breaking a sweat. Do little girls sweat, he wondered? Whether they did or not, this kid was not even the least bit tired, he knew that, but he was in no condition to take much more and still have the strength to make a decent attempt to get away.

“I'm gonna kill you as soon as I get you inside, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me,” she hissed in his ear.

She held her hand over his mouth and placed her other arm around his throat and began dragging him slowly back toward the house. His feet stumbled and slid as he tried to apply the brakes, then stood up as he glanced down at her bare feet. Al slammed one foot down on one of her feet, expecting to inflict enough pain on her to stop her, but she ignored it and pulled him back so that he was bent over backward at the waist, looking up as she continued dragging him. They were halfway between the car and the house, and she still had one hand over his mouth so he couldn't scream.

The old man suddenly jerked hard to his right, taking himself and his little antagonist to the ground, where they wrestled. He had no more success fighting the little killer outside than in the house, but figured the more time they spent in the open, the greater the chances of someone walking by and seeing them. As they rolled around on the ground, he was careful to avoid the trap of her legs, as he watched her flailing around in an attempt to wrap him up like a birthday present. She threw one leg over him as they tussled, trying to pull him over and on top, but he rolled the other way, which resulted in her being on top of him, and although she still held his mouth with one hand, she used the other to punch him in the face repeatedly.

He used both hands to grab her wrist, but she pulled free and kept hitting his already injured nose and lips. She was virtually unstoppable, but at least he had thus far avoided letting her get those legs around him. He then used both hands to grab her hair and roll her over, adjusting his body so that he was lying across her with his body extended outward and away from her legs. He was now on top with his arms around her neck and she in turn wrapped both arms around his neck, once again freeing his mouth.

He screamed, “Somebody please, call the police! Please call the police! Help!” He had forgotten Brittany, but she was right there, as usual, filming it all. He glared at her, thinking she was just as bad. One day she'd probably be a killer too, even if she had to use a weapon like more murderers.

Ana tightened her arms around his neck and pulled his face into her chest, muffling his screams. The little girl then rolled, pulling him with her, and pinned him, adjusting her body so that she was straddling him, her arms still tightly wound around his neck and his face still buried in her chest. She held him like this for a minute, and he knew that if he rolled one way or the other, she'd get her legs around him and that would be all she wrote. He couldn't move, he couldn't scream. She had him, but at least she wasn't inflicting any pain, other than with her arms. His neck hurt, but at least the pain was tolerable, compared to what it would be if she had her legs around him. Things could be worse.

Things got worse. The child realized the stalemate was to his advantage, not hers, as the longer they remained outside, the better chance of someone seeing them wrestling. Still holding his face tightly to her body, she lulled him into thinking she wasn't going to do anything but keep him pinned to the ground on his back, but after a few seconds, she rolled, taking him over and on top of her. She released her arms from his neck, grabbed his hair, and worked her legs up and slipped them around his neck, pulling his face deep into her crotch and she locked her ankles and squeezed. Once again, he couldn't breathe, and the pain was far greater than when she had her arms rather than her legs around his neck. And he still couldn't scream, not just because his face was pressed against her crotch, but because he couldn't breathe.

She then started rolling back toward the house, taking him with her as he struggled in vain to free himself. It was a slow process, but no more so than when they were on their feet. The car was further away and the house was getting closer, closer, closer. Brittany was still filming, zooming in to show her working on him with her strong legs and also to show the progress she was making in getting him back to the entry to his house, which was to be the location of his slow, painful execution.

Al was able to stop the girl from wrestling him all the way inside by putting his feet flat on the ground, but then when he tried to stand, she twisted him, knocking him off balance while at the same time crushing his neck even harder. It had been several seconds since he had been able to breathe, and he soon felt himself losing consciousness. Nothing he did allowed him any relief from the pressure of her thigh muscles, and after a few more seconds, he passed out.

He awoke as she was pulling him through the doorway, and he screamed, getting to his feet as the little girl released him and pushed the door shut, turning the deadlock. She turned and slammed a fist into his face, knocking him to the floor. He watched helplessly as she pounced on him.

To be continued...

Last edited by dirksneath; 01-Oct-18 at 22:19.
Reply With Quote
The Following 3 Users Say Thank You to dirksneath For This Useful Post:
  #13  
Old 01-Oct-18, 15:32
mixfightor's Avatar
mixfightor mixfightor is online now
Senior Member
Points: 17,782, Level: 58 Points: 17,782, Level: 58 Points: 17,782, Level: 58
Activity: 21.4% Activity: 21.4% Activity: 21.4%
Last Achievements
 
Join Date: Apr 2011
Gender: Male
Location: Australia
Posts: 2,516
Thanks: 5,581
Thanked 2,291 Times in 1,520 Posts
Default Re: Smile For the Camera and Die

G'day Dirk.

I'm sorry I haven't been commenting for this thread, but I just got home after about ten days holidaying in Singapore. I've just about caught up and just have this latest instalment to read. It looks really good so far. I like the story mechanic of one girl filming the other as she beats up the old men, and each of the victims has had some quality about them that makes us less than sympathetic towards them. Ana is also kid of escalating in her attacks, using psychological intimidation and fear to break his mind as she gets ready to break his body. This makes for an interesting read. Thank you for writing this and rest assured I will keep reading.
Reply With Quote
The Following User Says Thank You to mixfightor For This Useful Post:
  #14  
Old 01-Oct-18, 15:35
WeaponZero WeaponZero is offline
Member
Points: 3,429, Level: 24 Points: 3,429, Level: 24 Points: 3,429, Level: 24
Activity: 0% Activity: 0% Activity: 0%
Last Achievements
 
Join Date: Mar 2016
Posts: 82
Thanks: 30
Thanked 89 Times in 50 Posts
Default Re: Smile For the Camera and Die

I'm liking what I'm reading. It's definitely picked up a lot since earlier chapters. Liking the focus on upper body on this one too. I'm eager to see whether or not Brittany will play a bigger roles as the story progresses.
Reply With Quote
The Following User Says Thank You to WeaponZero For This Useful Post:
  #15  
Old 01-Oct-18, 18:55
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
Banned
Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22
Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0%
 
Join Date: Dec 2016
Gender: Male
Location: Leesburg GA
Posts: 199
Thanks: 266
Thanked 531 Times in 125 Posts
Default Re: Smile For the Camera and Die

Thanks, guys. I'm still catching mistakes and editing. I just noticed I had Ana closing the door twice. This was over an hour after I posted that last segment, and believe it or not I proof read it before posting. Also, I've been working on a new story and had one of the girls ask a question of some guys who were tied up and had panties or socks in their mouths as gag. Without remembering that, I had one of the guys give a clear answer to her question, then realized the next day and about 10 or 12 pages later that it's hard to talk with panties in your mouth, so I had to go back and do some rewriting. One good thing about growing older is you can blame stuff like that on your age, so I do that a lot.

One reason I ask people to make comments is not so much to tell me how great the story is, although it's nice when they do, but to let me know if there's something like the examples I just gave: closing a door twice or victim's talking with panties in their mouths, that need to be changed, problems in consistency and continuity. Also, I want people to tell me how the story can be improved. Generally when I start posting, the story is pretty much finished, for better or worse, so I may not make major changes, but I can add things or do some slight rewrites, incorporating things that will make the story better or at least stop my tendency to be tedious and focus so much on just the moves and holds that are my favorites, like leg scissors and the like.

WeaponZero, thanks to you I've tried to focus at least a little more on upper body strength. I haven't ignored it because it's something I just don't care for at all, but because I haven't really thought about it, really. I'll admit I never cared much for lifting and carrying, as to me that's just showing off, but a girl picking a man up and body slamming, that can easily be part of the fight. Same way with a lot of strength displays, some of which I frequently use in fight scenes, but many of which I don't.

As for Brittany, I don't want to give anything away, but in this case there's not much to give, as I missed an opportunity to make her a more important character. If I could go back about a week, she would probably be more like Ana, a neighborhood bully who teams up with her to terrorize the boys and eventually the old men in the neighborhood. Instead of being like the little serial killers, who find two men so that each girl always has someone to fight and torture, they could tag in and out, so that while one girl is fighting, the other is filming.

Another opportunity I missed with Brittany is to have some conflict with Ana, one that may or not have led to physical fighting, although with her character the way I've developed it, she wouldn't stand a chance against Ana. Without giving too much away, I will say that there will be a point where a split is obviously occurring, but at that point in the story, it's too late to be significant.

mixfightor, I'll admit I've come to depend on you for kind comments and positive reinforcement, but if you ever see anything you don't like, any area in which you think I can improve, let me know. When I don't hear from you, I wonder if something has happened to you, so I'm glad to know you're okay and hope that you bought me a nice souvenir while in Singapore, if nothing else just a t-shirt that says "My friend mixfightor went to Singapore and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." Please send it overnight delivery, as I don't like to wait too long for gifts, especially since I hardly ever get any.

As I mentioned previously, next story is the third in the Little Series Killer series, and will probably not be just another story that draws mixed reviews, but one that will push the envelope in at least a couple of different ways. I may be going too far with this one, and if so I guess I'll find out. I don't think many will feel neutral about this one. I hope there will at least be a few who love it, but I'm afraid there will be some who hate it. As for the story after this one, it will probably be A Prisoner in His Own Home, which I think will be a serious challenge, and to be honest, I had wanted to write it before now, but I wasn't sure I was up to the challenge, and am still not sure. I had visualized him as being sort of like Pete, but I want to emphasize the loneliness and simple mindedness more than the possibility that he is a pedophile, and that will be the challenge, as I don't want people to sympathize with him too much.

Getting back to this story, I think what I originally had in mind for Pete was a lonely old man who wasn't very smart, someone who was an almost comical character because he was such a dimwit, then I realized people would like him too much, or at least feel sorry for him, and I didn't want that. Mr Salvati was your stereotypical grouchy old man, a Scrooge, who didn't like kids or anyone else very much. He was a come and go victim, someone whose character was not worth developing any further than that.

I don't think most people care much for Al, either, but I do. For some reason I see him as Leo G Carroll, an actor whose extensive career began in the 30s. He was known for roles in several Alfred Hitchcock movies, but people my age may mostly remember him as Alexander Waverly in the iconic 60s TV spy series The Man From U.N.C.L.E. I think if I could start over, I'd give him more of a dry but quick wit. There's another victim coming up, and since he hasn't been introduced yet, I may spend a little more time developing his character. If I don't, it will be because at this point in the story, I'm more interested in posting the final segments and spending more time on the new story before I get tired of it. In other words, I'm already getting kind of tired of this one. Thanks again for the comments.
Reply With Quote
The Following User Says Thank You to dirksneath For This Useful Post:
  #16  
Old 02-Oct-18, 08:11
mixfightor's Avatar
mixfightor mixfightor is online now
Senior Member
Points: 17,782, Level: 58 Points: 17,782, Level: 58 Points: 17,782, Level: 58
Activity: 21.4% Activity: 21.4% Activity: 21.4%
Last Achievements
 
Join Date: Apr 2011
Gender: Male
Location: Australia
Posts: 2,516
Thanks: 5,581
Thanked 2,291 Times in 1,520 Posts
Default Re: Smile For the Camera and Die

I did bring you back a tee shirt from Singapore,mate,but when I tried to bring it over there was this young girl in your yard who snatched it out of my hand. I demanded she give it back but she threw it on the ground and wiped her dirty bare feet all over it and stood there as if daring me to try to take it back. I swear, for a young girl she was really intimidating.

I am liking the story, mate. You know me and my interest in facesitting, so I loved it when Ana was bouncing on Pete's face, ignorant of the sexual implications but simply enjoying that it was making him embarrassed and uncomfortable. Brittany does seem like a slightly odd one. She's definitely a follower, going along with what Ana want to do with the minimum of resistance. She seemed conflicted when Pete was being destroyed by her friend, but since there has been no consequence of that attack or the one against Mr Salvati, I guess she feels like they can get away with anything. I wonder how she would react if she was encouraged to cause some of the pain rather than just filming it.

I know you worry that your stories are too long, mate, but I enjoy the detail. I devoured seven instalments in one sitting and pretty much hungered for more. Thanks, as always, for writing these tales for us.
Reply With Quote
The Following User Says Thank You to mixfightor For This Useful Post:
  #17  
Old 02-Oct-18, 14:59
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
Banned
Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22
Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0%
 
Join Date: Dec 2016
Gender: Male
Location: Leesburg GA
Posts: 199
Thanks: 266
Thanked 531 Times in 125 Posts
Default Re: Smile For the Camera and Die

So sorry you encountered that problem when trying to deliver my tee shirt, friend. That must have been Jaycee or Ana. Jennifer Sheffield's feet are clean as a whistle, and if it have been Brianna or Yelena, you probably wouldn't be alive to tell the tale. Either that or they'd still be torturing you, as they are the most sadistic and evil of Dirk's girls. It's a wonder they haven't killed me yet. They keep telling me it's just a matter of time, but that as long as I keep writing about their adventures, they'll let me live. Maybe.

Glad you're enjoying the story. Brittany is definitely an odd one. I should have made more of the relationship there between her and Ana, but really, I think you're dead on when you say she's a follower, and as with so many followers, she chooses the wrong person to follow. She's like so many people in my country that have chosen to follow the wrong person, but I won't say any more about that, as I'm sure there are many of his followers on the forum. That's really all there is to Brittany.

Also glad you don't think my stories are too long. The next Little Serial Killers story will probably be my longest story yet. I'm anticipating a novella of over 100 pages. Expect to see more of a distinction between the personalities of the two little sadists and some growing conflict between the two related especially to the way one of them feels about one of the victims.

And if you don't like violence and death, stay away, because this one is a massacre that will make headlines not just in their local community, but all over the world. They will finally enter the serial killer hall of fame in this one. Be afraid. Be very afraid. Keep telling yourself, it's only a fighting and wrestling story, and don't turn out the lights before you fall asleep, or before you try to fall asleep. Better get up and investigate that noise from outside but don't open that door! If this story doesn't make you fear those mean little girls who live down the street or right next door, nothing will. No sugar and spice in this one.
Reply With Quote
  #18  
Old 02-Oct-18, 15:09
WeaponZero WeaponZero is offline
Member
Points: 3,429, Level: 24 Points: 3,429, Level: 24 Points: 3,429, Level: 24
Activity: 0% Activity: 0% Activity: 0%
Last Achievements
 
Join Date: Mar 2016
Posts: 82
Thanks: 30
Thanked 89 Times in 50 Posts
Default Re: Smile For the Camera and Die

I know I've told you this in pm but I wanted to say it again publicly. You're one of the best writers out there, and your unique writing style, which is obviously inspired by horror writers, gives your stories a flair and feel that I would expect more from something I should be paying money for the privilege to read. Keep it up
Reply With Quote
The Following User Says Thank You to WeaponZero For This Useful Post:
  #19  
Old 02-Oct-18, 16:20
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
Banned
Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22
Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0%
 
Join Date: Dec 2016
Gender: Male
Location: Leesburg GA
Posts: 199
Thanks: 266
Thanked 531 Times in 125 Posts
Default Re: Smile For the Camera and Die

Thanks. If you wish to pay, feel free. I have a PayPal acct. (Just kidding, my services on the forum are free).
Reply With Quote
  #20  
Old 02-Oct-18, 22:13
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
Banned
Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22 Points: 2,977, Level: 22
Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0% Activity: 99.0%
 
Join Date: Dec 2016
Gender: Male
Location: Leesburg GA
Posts: 199
Thanks: 266
Thanked 531 Times in 125 Posts
Default Re: Smile For the Camera and Die

Part 8

Al knew this was it. The end of his life. The only question was, how long would it take her to kill him? It was obvious from what he'd seen on those awful videos, and from his experience with her so far, that the girl was a sadist. She wasn't going to kill him quickly. She would drag it out as long as possible, undoubtedly with her legs, crushing either this midsection or neck slowly, and as painful as it would be, the worst part was the slow suffocation, not being able to breathe. She might even knock him out with them a few times, then allow him to recover, then start all over again, keeping him alive as long as possible just to see him suffer and hear him beg for mercy, that is, when he was able to breathe long enough to say anything. He would not have been shocked to learn that this was exactly what she had in mind. She even told him as she straddled his chest and gazed into his eyes.

“I'm not just gonna kill you, Mr Al. I'm gonna do it real slow,” she said, as though she'd somehow been reading his mind. “I'm gonna squeeze you so tight with my legs that you pass out again, then I'm gonna let you breathe again so I can start all over. I want you to beg me, not to let you live, but to kill you. I want you to suffer so bad, to hurt so much that you wanna die, and the longer I can keep you alive and watch you suffer, the better. I want to see you cry.”

He spat in her face and said, “Why you fucking little bitch. I'm not gonna beg. Not gonna beg you to let me live or to kill me. Not gonna beg you for anything.”

She punched him in the face, and he almost passed out again, since his nose was broken by now and it hurt like hell. He was so scared he was shaking, but hoped she couldn't feel his body tremble beneath her. She wrapped her fingers around his throat and started choking him. Al grabbed her wrists and pulled, but it didn't stop her. Nothing he did would stop her, and he knew it. She weighed less than 100 pounds, and he could have easily pushed her off, but that wouldn't have stopped her, and besides, she'd just take him with her and put her legs around him, and they were far stronger than her fingers.

She stopped and started to stand, grabbing him by the collar as she said, “Get up. I'm gonna work on you a long time before I destroy you.”

She flung him into the nearest wall, then backed up and slammed her body into his, then did it again, and again, three times altogether. After the third time, she just stood there, looking up at his face as she pressed her body into his, up on the balls of her feet, pushing on him as hard as she could, causing some discomfort, but not nearly as much as she could have by scissoring him. It was more a form of humiliation, showing her strength and tempting him to try to push her away, which he figured he could easily do, but he figured she'd grab him and take him down, so he just stood there and took it.

Standing on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed, then wrapped him up with her arms around his chest, getting him in a bear hug that did not include his arms. He knew that if he tried, he could take her down, but she'd just take him with her and get her legs around him. She then pulled him away from the wall and released him, but placed her hands on his shoulders and jumped, slipping her legs around him. From bear hug to body scissor, just like that, and even though she had strong arms, it was nothing compared to her legs. She then wrapped her arms around his neck again.

“Stop it,” he said, using his hands to push her arms and legs away, but she just crushed her arms and legs against him harder.

“Make me,” she said, then squeezed him even harder with each set of limbs. .

Suddenly she released him, dropped to her feet and kicked him in the groin, then stepped forward when he doubled over, clenching his head between her bare thighs. She held him in place for a few seconds while all he could do was look at her toes, wondering what she was going to do now. She slammed her elbow down on his upper back, which hurt like hell and almost caused him to crash to the floor, but he maintained his footing. Then he saw her stand on her tiptoes while at the same time looping her arms under and then over his, placing her hands on his back before taking down to the floor in a pedigree, smashing his face into the floor, causing immense pain to his already damaged nose, so that once again he passed out.

When he came to, he was still face down on the floor, with the little girl still straddling his neck. She lifted herself slightly, then crashed down on him, once again slamming his face into the floor and causing more pain. She then got up, pulling him up by the collar. As soon as he was on his feet, he took a swing at her, a hay maker, knocking her down. The child was on the floor, but unfortunately in front of the door through which he had tried to escape, so he turned and ran toward what he often referred to as the back door, which was on the other side of the house and led into the yard between his and a house that had been vacant now for about six months. The front door was closer, but it was a heavy door with a deadbolt and chain that would take precious seconds that would take time to unlock and fiddle with, then there was a glass door that was sometimes a little contrary, and he knew he didn't have much time to spare.

He had hit her so hard, it probably would have knocked anyone else out, even an adult, but this girl seemed indestructible. She was soon on her feet and tearing after him, calling out, “You can't get away from me. You'll never get away from me.”

He didn't dare take the time to look over his shoulder, concentrating instead on running as fast as he could, but he could hear the soft steps of her bare feet behind him, and knew he couldn't make it. The poor man could almost feel her breath on his back, so he finally spun around and threw another punch at her, but she was able to block it. Before he could think of anything else, she wrapped her arms around him and took him to the floor, straddling his chest and pinning his arms behind him as she scooted onto his face.

“Stop trying to get away and fight me, old man,” she said. “Fight me good, 'cause it's the only chance you got of living.” She then started wriggling around on his face, taunting him, teasing him.

Fighting her wasn't doing him any good, and neither was trying to escape her. If she was going to kill him, and he knew that was what she wanted to do, he wished she just go ahead and do it, but that wasn't going to happen either. If he could just...maybe if he...but nothing came to mind, nothing at all. She was too strong, too fast. It was hopeless.

To make matters worse, she released his arms and pinched his nostrils shut. He could still breathe a little with his face trapped below her crotch, but she had her naked thighs clenching his head as she pressed down on him as hard as she could, so there was no way now that he could get any air into his mouth. Then she used her free hand to grasp his hair, then rolled, pulling him on top so she could trap him in another neck scissor. He knew that's what she was going to do, but couldn't stop her, and had no plan of escape once it happened. The old man, battered and bruised, couldn't do a thing to prevent her from having her way with him, from brutalizing and completely destroying him. All he could do was lie there and let her suffocate him, taking him out only when she felt like it.

And there was that other little damn girl, standing over them and filming it so that they could later watch and enjoy it while sipping a juice box, laughing at his desperate but futile struggles. He wanted to grab that thing and cram it down Ana's throat so she would know what it was like to strangle and smother, not being able to breathe, to slowly die at the hands of someone who didn't care if she lived or died, someone who wanted her to die, someone who wanted to kill her perhaps even more than she wanted to kill him. At least he had a reason for wanting to kill her. In his case it would be self defense, plus the fact that he knew that after she killed him, she'd find another old man to kill, to torture before finally taking his life.

Al didn't know it, but she was already thinking about that. She planned to go after Ed Simmons, an old widower who lived one street over. He was in his late 70s and used a metal cane to help him walk. He would be an easy kill. All she'd have to do was subdue him and wrap her strong legs around him, knocking him out, then let him recover so she could make him pass out again. Over and over, watching his eyes close, then flicker open a minute later, then look at his eyes for the terror in them before she bore down on him again. That would be an easy one for her, not much of a challenge, but that was okay. She could toy with him, making him think she had decided to let him go, even walk out the door, then say, “Ha! Ha! I changed my mind, I'm gonna kill you after all,” then listen to him scream as she jumped on him again and worked her legs around him and went back to work on him.

Al pounded on her legs with his fists, grabbed them and tried to extricate his head, pulled on her ponytail, none of which gave him any relief, then rolled, taking her with him across the floor, desperate to take a breath, but all he did was tire himself out, and he was already exhausted. She gave him no respite, no relief from his suffering, and oh how it hurt, but mainly he couldn't breathe. The pain he could stand, well almost, but she was smothering him, and it was horrifying. The man finally stopped as the darkness descended on him, and he lost consciousness.

He awoke with the little girl straddling his face, ready to go to work on him again. If he thought she would kill him immediately, he didn't think he'd put up a fight. He had told her he wouldn't. But that's a hard promise to keep, as the human inclination is to fight for one's life, even against all odds. If there were a whole room full of little killers, most men would fight, to try and get away, if nothing else. As long as your goal is to live, it makes sense to do something but give up and let the bastards (or bitches) take you. But even if you no longer wish to live, it's hard to keep from fighting if you are in pain and cannot breathe. Fighting becomes a reflex that you cannot control.

“Wakey, wakey,” the child said, slapping his face a little harder than necessary to bring him around, but she was all about the pain now. Growing bored, Ana jumped off of him, turned him over onto his stomach and padded over to his feet, lifting his legs and rolling him over and into a Boston crab. She held him while straddling him slightly above his butt, then sitting briefly and standing again, anticipating his attempts to roll out of it and countering his moves. She let go of one leg and concentrated on an ankle lock of the other one, bringing forth screams of “Stop, I give up, please stop!” from the poor man.

She finally released him only to pounce on his back and wrap her arm around his neck from behind, lying on top of him. She pulled her wrist back to exert maximum pressure on him. He slammed the palm of his hand on the floor, desperately trying to send her another submission message, which was ignored, of course. After a few moments, she released him and moved upward, straddling his neck and lacing her hands under his chin, pulling his upper body up while straddling his neck, knees on the floor, then released on hand and used it to try to gouge his eyes, but decided that was a little too yucky for her yet, as she didn't want to mess up her fingers with somebody's gushy crushed eyeballs. Maybe she would do that with some future victim.

She then stood and grabbed him by the hair, saying, “Get up.” He did, although as usual, she helped him with a handful of his hair, then kicked him in the crotch and took him down with a pedigree, then diddled his face with her toes.

The brutal girl was getting so bored. Maybe it was time to finish him off. Neck scissor, or body scissor? She couldn't decide, so she asked him for input. “Hey Al. I'm gonna start killing you now, so I wanna know what you prefer: a neck scissor, where I choke you with my legs, or a body scissor, where I wrap my legs around your chest and crush you. And do you want it front or rear?” The man looked at her as if she were crazy, which of course, she was.

“Too bad we can't just ask the audience,” she said, looking at the camera and waving. “Maybe we can set up a webcam and send it out live,” causing Brittany to force a laugh. She still wasn't comfortable with her friend killing old men, or anyone for that matter.

Ana dropped on the man and wrestled him for a few minutes, basically rolling him around the floor, hands holding onto his hair to make escape more difficult. He was like putty in her hands now, softened up for the kill. She had hurt him badly, and he was exhausted, only going through the motions of fighting her. At one point she straddled his chest, then sat back and started patting her bare feet on his face, just to piss him off.

“Stop that,” he demanded, swatting at her feet.

“I beat the hell out of you, smashed you, threw you around all over the place, squashed you with me legs and knocked you out, but when I give you some love pats with my feet you tell me to 'stop that.'” Al said nothing.

She got up and walked around him for a few seconds, occasionally nudging him with her toes, especially his face. She was toying with him, but at least she wasn't hurting him. However, he knew that would change soon, and he was terrified, almost wishing she'd get down to it and get it over with.

“Seriously,” she said, “how do you want me to kill you? I mean, I think it's only fair that you should have a choice. Head scissor or neck scissor?” He still said nothing.

“I guess maybe we'll make it a surprise,” she continued. Then she said, “I know how I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna face smother you.”

She then straddled his head, still standing, with a foot on either side of his head. She then squatted, with the crotch of her leotard on his mouth as she pinched his nostrils closed so he couldn't breathe. He struggled, trying to roll her off, but she braced herself, legs bent with her toes splayed out, grasping the carpet like claws while grabbing his hair with one hand, still clenching his nose with the fingers of her other hand, and pulled his face deeper into his crotch. He slapped and punched her legs, but to no avail, as usual.

He bucked like a bronco, and kept trying to roll her off to one side or the other, but she rode him like a little cowgirl, even yelling, “Giddy-app. You'll never get me off, or...you may, but not the way you're thinking.” She then laughed at her sick little joke. Al tried to ignore her, but she continued. “Get it? You may get me off, but not the way you'd like.” She then pressed down even harder on the poor man.

He stopped fighting back for a few minutes, then started again, but the demented little girl was ready for him, knowing he had some more fight in him. She pulled her legs back in and clenched his head tightly with them as she rubbed back and forth on his face, making the man wonder if she were truly getting off on what she was doing. It didn't matter, he tried to convince himself. Either way, she was trying to kill him, and he had to figure out some way to save his life rather than worry about whether the child was perverted as well as evil.

She started bouncing up and down on his face, hurting his broken nose, but at least he could breathe again. Then she rolled, taking him with her, lacing her hands behind his head and once more pulling his face deep within her crotch, as she locked her legs ankles behind his neck and started crushing him, once again stopping his breath, choking and suffocating him. He rolled and twisted, trying to break free, but she had him, and there was nothing he could do but wear himself out. God help me, he silently prayed.

After another minute or so, he passed out, and she relaxed her legs but didn't release him, as her legs remained around his neck loosely so he could breathe. When he came to, he tried to pull himself free, grabbing her thighs and pulling them, but all she did was tighten them up again, causing pain and suffocation. She then rolled back on top of him, converting the scissor into a face smother, clenching his nostrils again.

He flopped and flailed, trying to get out from under her small but powerful little body. This little girl had killed two other men in a similar fashion. He knew they were dead, he had seen the cop cars and EMTs, heard about it from neighbors, seen it on TV and read about it in the papers. She and that little bitch who was filming his death had showed him the videos. He had no doubt that she was the killer, and that she planned to kill him, too. She wasn't even twelve-years-old but was already a serial killer, with her soon to be third victim underneath her as she smothered him.

Her strength continued to amaze and frighten him. She didn't get tired. She didn't feel pain. It was hopeless. He just wanted her to go ahead and finish it, but she was having too much fun. She was torturing him, like many serial killers did. They loved watching their victims slowly die, experiencing pain and terror, and in her case, she loved to watch them as they struggled just to breathe. She had broken one man's neck, but had tried to choke him with her legs first. That's the way she wanted them to die. And he was next.

She pulled his head up enough so she could get her legs around him, then rolled over, now on her back with the man on his stomach in front of her as she released the grip on his nose, grabbed his hair with both hands and pressed her thighs together as tightly as she could. Then she released her hair and shook him with her legs, rolling him from one side to the other, making him think she was trying to break his neck, but that wasn't how she wanted him to die. She was just having fun.

She stopped, still holding his neck tightly with her powerful legs, and grabbed his hair again and said, “Look at me, old man. LOOK AT ME!” His eyes had been tightly closed, but he obeyed her, opening his eyes and looking at her. He was crying, which pleased her.

“I'm the last person you're even gonna see, old man,” she said, ignoring the fact that Brittany was right behind her, camera capturing the slaughter. Al was too scared to mention that, however.

The girl slapped him in the face with one hand while holding him by the hair with the other, then backhanded him, then put her fingers back in his hair next to the other hand. She started rolling across the floor, taking his captured head and neck with her, still pulling his hair.

“Die, fucker, die die die DIE!” she yelled, like the crazy person she was.

The old man never knew it was possible to feel fear like this. He wanted to pass out and never wake up again. He knew that moment was coming, and wanted it to happen as soon as possible. Just let me die, God, just let me die, he said to himself. But the girl had other plans. She wanted him to die, but not yet.

She ended up on her back, her crying victim still captured by her naked thighs. She gave him a very hard squeeze and did not relax for a very long time, causing him to pass out, just as he had wanted. Unfortunately, he could come to and suffer some more. When he did, she still had her legs around him. They were both on their sides, the mans face still pressed against her crotch as the girl stared into her eyes while she rested her head in the palm of her hand, propped up with her elbow on the floor.

When he opened his eyes, she bore down on him, crushing his neck again with her thighs. He groaned, his hands once again pulling helplessly at her legs. He wanted not just to free himself, to hurt her, but knew that he could do neither. Once again she rolled him, adjusting her legs so she was once again straddling his face, her thighs tightly pressing against the sides of his head as she pressed her crotch down over his mouth again while she pinched his nose closed so he couldn't breathe. He struggled, but as always, it was in vain.

“Whatcha gonna do, old man? Huh? Whatcha gonna do?” she asked, tormenting him. He didn't even try to answer the question. He had no answer, and beside, he couldn't breathe.

He eventually passed out again. She rolled him, locked her ankles behind his head and squeezed, letting him come to in a few seconds before taking him out again. She was getting bored. It was time to finish him. She bore down on him as hard as she could, deciding this was it. The little girl was going to kill him this time. He had not taken a breath in over a minute, at least that long, or so she thought. He was probably dead, but she wanted to make sure.

Then there was a tapping on the front door, and a female voice behind it, calling out, “Mr Al?”

“Shit!” exclaimed Ana, as she released Al and stood, then said to Brittany, “Run!”

They ran for the back door, just a few feet away, opening it and fleeing through it, across the yard and behind the vacant house next door. Ana told Brittany they were far enough away to slow down, knowing they would call too much attention to themselves if they continued running. They trotted into a wooded area behind the houses, following a path back in the direction of where they lived, which was on the other side of Mr Al's house and the one belonging to Emma Jenkins.

They finally stopped, and Brittany asked, “Was he dead?”

“Yeah. I think. Whoever that was may have gone away. Still, I'm afraid to go back and check. If he's still alive, I could finish him off, but whoever was knocking on the door may have gone in and found him, and if so, she's probably going to call the cops, so we better just go home the back way.”

The back way was a convoluted series of paths, going through the woods and across a small creek. Both girls were barefoot, as Brittany had forgotten her flip-flops again, but Ana had already noticed it.

“Dammit, girl, how could you forget your flip-flops again? You ran off without 'em,” she said, angrily.

“They were up there close to the door. I couldn't run back up there and get 'em,” she said.

“Why'd you take 'em off?” Ana asked, still angry. “You should have just kept them on, or better yet, you shoulda just gone barefoot to begin with.”

“I'm sorry,” Brittany said, crying by now.

Then Ana remembered she had not only taken off her flip-flops too, but she had also taken off her tee shirt and shorts. She didn't mention this to Brittany, who had not yet thought of it herself, but for Ana, it was one more thing to worry about.

The girls went back to Ana's home, looking toward Al's home as they heard sirens.

Back at Al's house, Jena Richardson had stuck her head in the door after knocking and calling a few times without getting a response. The first thing she spotted was a small pair of flip-flops, and she wondered who they belonged to, as she didn't know of Mr Al having many visitors, especially children, and the sandals obviously weren't big enough to belong to an adult. She spotted another pair of flip-flops and a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, but soon forgot the children's clothing, as the next thing she saw was Mr Al, lying on the floor in den, which was really more of an extension of the living room with an arch over the wide entrance between the two rooms.

She ran inside. Mr Al appeared to be dead, or at least badly hurt, with blood on his face. She reached for her iPhone and called 9-1-1. She immediately realized he was probably a victim of the killer who had killed the other two men. She was suddenly frightened that the killer might still be in the home, but stayed there, fearing he'd fled out the door that led from the den to the outside and into the yard next to the vacant house next door, and may have been just outside. Mr Al was still unconscious when the police and EMTs arrived.

He was rushed to the hospital, alive but barely. They treated him and placed him in intensive care for two days and he was then moved to a private room, where the doctor finally decided he was well enough to talk to the police on the third day after the vicious assault.

The police were incredulous when they heard his story. They didn't believe it. His story was either the result of head injuries (even though the doctor said there was no evidence of any injury to his head that would severely affect his brain or his ability to remember the incident, although he could have some kind of mental block about what happened), or he was afraid of his attacker returning, and therefore refused to give any description, although why he'd make up such a far-fetched story of a little girl of only eleven stripping down to a leotard and almost killing him with her bare hands, feet and legs was beyond them.

But they found not just one but two pairs of flip-flops, and a discarded pair of shorts and a tee shirt, all of which could easily fit an eleven-year-old girl. And there had been a child's pair of flip-flops at Pete Rayburn's house, and there two sets of small fingerprints and bare footprints at both of those houses and at Al Fields' house, all of which could have belonged to two little girls of eleven. Brittany's prints were smaller, and she was supposedly the girl who was filming it, according to Al, who insisted they talk to her and get a warrant for that camera, as it had videos of the other two murders as well as Ana's attempt to murder him. (Of course by then, the girls had deleted the videos and thrown the camera in the creek that ran through the woods).


To be continued...

Last edited by dirksneath; 03-Oct-18 at 03:57.
Reply With Quote
The Following User Says Thank You to dirksneath For This Useful Post:
Reply

Tags
domination, mixed, older males, scissors, violence, young girl

Thread Tools
Display Modes


Similar Threads
Thread Thread Starter Forum Replies Last Post
Real Victory Pose. Girl pins boy and smiles for camera! (high school match) NewYork Wrestling & Fighting Pictures 6 17-Jul-18 04:10
With a little smile to my friends circlesquare Wrestling & Fighting Pictures 6 12-Dec-15 20:26


All times are GMT. The time now is 20:59.


Powered by vBulletin® - Copyright ©2000 - 2024, vBulletin Solutions, Inc.