Date: Tue, 1 May 2012 07:22:16 +0200
From: Amy Redek <adultreading@gmail.com>
Subject: Vigilante. Part One.

            This story is for persons of eighteen years or over.  All
comments, good or bad, are welcome and all will be answered.

            Part One

   I had murder in my heart from the time I was ten years of age. It began
when my step-father first drew down the sheet that covered me, when I was
asleep, and touched me. I awoke with a start as his pudgy finger touched
the lips of my sex and I smelt his beery breath as he looked at me, while
his finger stroked the soft flesh that had yet to begin to show the downy
hairs of the beginning of puberty. My nightdress had been pulled up and I
lay there terrified as he continued to stroke me as he muttered to himself
and I prayed that I would wake up from this nightmare.

   But I was already awake and there was to be no respite from him touching
me whenever he felt like it. There would be no sense in saying anything to
my mother as she would call me a liar, because she knew that I had never
liked him from the first time I had set eyes upon him, so I think she would
have believed his protestations of innocence at these charges rather than
believe what I would say. So after several months of having him touch me,
finger and probe me, he brought murder into my heart.

   Having his finger inserted into me at least once a week continued for a
whole year, especially after he came home from the pub. Then calamity
struck and my mother died and I knew then that I would be at his
mercy. This was proved within one week of her being buried.

   I heard the front door of our terraced house slam and his stumbling
steps as he came up the stairs. I lay there trembling hoping against all
hope that he would carry on past my room, but my prayers were to be of no
avail. The door opened and he swayed there in the half gloom, his piggy
eyes had a glint in them that I didn't like.

   `When the sun goes down, my little flower goes to sleep,' he
slurred. `Well I think it's about time that our little flower was plucked,'
and gave out a brittle laugh at his own witticism. His beery breath
preceded him as he lurched into the room. The door he left open as there
was no need for him to close it as now we were the only two people now in
the house at night.

   I did not know exactly what was going to happen as he pulled off his
shirt and began taking off his trousers, but knew that it wasn't going to
be good for me. This then was the first sight I ever had of a grown man's
penis when fully erect. I'd seen the odd babies little pecker, but this
huge thing that was sticking out from between his hairy thighs frightened
me to death.

   He pulled down the sheet that I had drawn up to my neck and threw it to
one side and then grasped the top of my nightgown and literally tore it off
my body. I didn't know where to put my hands to cover my nakedness from the
gaze of this towering figure above me.

   I was shaking as his hand came up and stroked my face before going down
to my now developing breasts. They weren't big but they had really started
to form and it wouldn't be much longer before I would have to wear a
bra. He rubbed his hands over my small mounds and stopped to tweak the
nipples before moving his hand down to find that I was just beginning to
grow some hair at the top of my thighs.

   He sat down on the bed as his hand played between them and then roughly
inserted two fingers inside me. I gasped at his roughness and this
intrusion into my body as his other hand began to push my legs apart. I
came out of my shock and started to fight him, hitting him with my fists
and squeezing my legs together, but he just laughed at me and rolled on top
to knock all the breath out of my body with his weight. He got one of his
knees between my legs and forced them apart so that he could move his lower
body in between them.

   `Spunky little minx,' he said, his foul breath almost making me choke as
he settled himself on top of me. I could feel that huge hard thing on my
stomach begin to move down as he came up onto his knees. I felt it come to
the lips of my sex and he knew where it was too, because his weight came
back down on me and I felt this thing come up and into me. As he entered, I
felt this sudden sharp pain, that I now know was the hymen being broken, as
he put himself fully inside me. When our stomachs were touching, he then
gave out some kind of sigh and then began moving up and down on me and I
could feel his hardness moving inside me as I now know it's called
fucking. That was what he was now doing to me.

   I had cried out at that sharp pain, but now I was crying at this
invasion of my body against my will and there was nothing I could do about
it as he moved on top of my body whilst the other part of him moved inside
me. He kept heaving himself into me and then all of a sudden pulled out and
flopped his erection onto my stomach and squashed it between us without
losing his rhythm.

   `Can't have our little bastard siring another one can we?' He grunted as
I felt him throb between us and the goo that came out of him got smeared
between our bodies.

   This I suffered at least once a month. His drunken crashing into my room
to tear my gown off and paw me before climbing on top and sticking himself
inside and yet to pull out at the last minute to come all over my stomach
and sometimes have him fall asleep in my bed. I would then get up and wash
myself to clean off his filth and then go downstairs to sleep the rest of
the night on the small, cramped sofa.

   He ignored me the rest of the time when he was sober. He still brought
food into the house so I wasn't starving, and I went off to school after he
had left to go to work. I couldn't help myself but make him dinner every
night as I was cooking for myself. It was those nights that he didn't
arrive for his evening meal that I knew I was in for it later when he
eventually did come home.

   It was just before my thirteenth birthday and I was having a bath and he
came home earlier than I expected. Our house, as in all the others in the
street, the toilet was in the bathroom. He came stumbling in and I kept
quiet but was still shivering in spite of the warm water as I watched him
pull himself out of his trousers and try to aim at the toilet bowl. When
he'd been drinking, his aim wasn't very good as he would splash half up the
back wall and then onto the lino before hitting the right place.

   The fact that the bathroom light was on hadn't registered with him and
as he shook himself he turned and saw me sitting there in the bath with my
arms covering my now prominent breasts. I seemed to be quite developed for
my age, but I don't think he was thinking of them as he looked at me there,
the upper half of me naked while what he wanted was below the water line.

   `Well if we haven't got a water baby here, or is it a mermaid,' he said
in his inebriated way. Instead of putting his thing away, he left it
dangling out and I saw it start to stiffen as lascivious thoughts began to
course through his befuddled brain. He undid his belt and let his trousers
fall to the floor as he pulled off his shirt. He nearly broke the toilet
seat as he slumped down onto it to take his shoes and socks off, his
trousers hampering him.

   I just sat there as if facing the hooded head of a swaying cobra,
transfixed, knowing what was going to be the eventual result, but not how
this scenario was going to be played out before that happened.

   By the time he was naked, his erection was as stiff and as hard as an
iron poker and it waved from side to side as he lumbered to his feet and
came towards me.

   `Give me a kiss before you kiss this big fella,' he slurred, stroking
himself as he came and leaned over towards me. I don't know why I did it
there, I think was just instinct to raise my arm and grab hold of his hair
and jerk him forward

   As he was already moving towards me, my sudden pull just increased his
momentum and he half fell in the bath, really cracking his head on the
other side of the bath. He gave out a groan and fell in on top of me as I
gave out a scream, frantically twisting my body round to get him off me,
pushed him round so that we were side by side, cramped, in the bath.

   I could see blood starting to ooze out the cut on his forehead and it
was starting to turn the water pink as I watched his head go under the
surface. When he began to splutter and lift his face clear of the water, I
pushed it back down and moved my body more so that I was now on his chest,
keeping his head underneath the surface of the water.

   As I felt his cock banging against my thigh, the thought ran through my
mind that this was the last time that his thing was going to touch me, and
so I held onto him as bubbles kept coming and coming from mouth, thinking
and wondering if they were ever going to stop as his body struggled feebly
under mine.

   I don't know how long I was there in the bath sitting on him, but the
water sure felt cold before I finally let go, his eyes half rolled up into
his head and no more bubbles issuing from his mouth when I rose up out of
the water.

   I dried myself as I looked at his body half submerged and knew that I
had just committed murder, but didn't care as I only had a feeling of
exultation that I was now free of that beast. In fact, I think I had the
best night's sleep that I could ever remember. I woke up at my usual time
and I just had to look in the bathroom to make sure that what had happened
hadn't been a dream. But he was still there, the water a lovely shade of
pink and the cut on his forehead looking very white and puckered from being
that long under water.

   Now it was time to act, so I put my dressing gown on but didn't bother
with slippers and went downstairs and out to next door and hammered on
their front door and made myself cry.

   `What's all the bloody noise for?' said Mr Humphries, our neighbour
asked as he opened the door, fixing the braces to his trousers.

   `It's dad!' I cried. `I think he's had an accident. He's in the
bathroom, in...in...the bath.' Here I began to sob as Annie, Mrs Humphries
came to the door in her dressing gown.

   `Whatever's the matter Sally?' she asked as I went into her arms still
crying.

   `It's dad,' I hiccuped. `He's under the water,' and I let her cuddle me
as her husband went into my house. Annie took me through to her kitchen and
sat me down and poured me out a cup of tea. `I was just going for a
pee...and...and...there he was, in the bath.' I sobbed again.

   `I've just told Fred,' another neighbour of ours, `to phone for an
ambulance and the police,' Mr Humphries said as he came into the
kitchen. `It looks as though he cracked his head as he was getting in the
bath,' he said to his wife. `What time did he come home last night?' he
asked of me.

   `I don't know. I'm usually asleep when he's late,' I said, making an
effort to stop the hiccups I now had. Annie soothed me down and when I said
that I still hadn't been to the toilet, she took me upstairs because I
wanted her to check the bath first before I went in on my own.

   With the bath being empty in her house, I was left alone to have a pee
and while I sat there, I hugged myself at not having to have that man do it
to me again. It was when I wiped myself that I noticed the blood. I
screamed and Annie came rushing in to see what was wrong. I was really
crying now at seeing blood come from inside me. It took her all of an hour
to calm me down and explain the facts of life to me as this was my first
ever menstruation. She gave me some pads after explaining the whole process
and went next door to fetch me some clothes to wear as the police had
arrived at the same time as the ambulance.

   Mr Humphries explained to them how I had rushed in after me finding my
step-father in the bath and that it was he who had checked and saw him
where he was now. The ambulance men waited until the policemen had looked
over the house, especially the bathroom before letting them take his body
away.

   A policewoman had been sent to talk to me and I wouldn't say a word
unless Annie was there to hold my hand. So after she had told the
W.P.C. about me having my first period, no doubt brought on by the shock, I
told her simply that I'd gone to bed the night before while he was still
out. Then found him in the bath that morning as I went to use the toilet.

   I overheard the W.P.C. ask Annie if I could stay with her till a social
worker could be sent round to take care of me, to which she agreed. So
after more tea I stayed there till after lunch, which I refused, saying
that I couldn't eat a thing and stayed there until a Miss Johnson arrived
to take charge of me.

   I wanted to stay with Annie but was told I didn't have any choice and
that I must go with her to be settled in somewhere for the night until they
could decide what to do with me. Miss Johnson took me to a house about a
mile away from where I lived and after knocking at the door, we were shown
into a parlour that was quite Edwardian in style by a kindly rotund faced
woman who said her name was Mother Phelps. When she was told by Miss
Johnson what I had gone through that day, Mother Phelps took me into her
ample bosom to cuddle me and called me a poor little thing. She was most
sympathetic and it was a bit embarrassing at how she clucked over me when
she was also told that I had just began my menses. She assured Miss Johnson
that she would take care of me until things could be sorted out with the
social people.

   I said and gave my thanks to Miss Johnson as she left to go to her
office and I was now in the care of Mother Phelps. She took me upstairs and
showed me to a nice room, small, but it looked very homely and clean,
saying that this would be my room for the time being. When I explained that
I felt a bit wet between my legs and didn't really know what to do, she
clucked even more and took me into the bathroom and explained in more
detail of what to do when I was having my monthly `curse' as she called it,
and what to do with the soiled pads afterwards.

   With me clean and tidy, she took me downstairs to the parlour and
introduced me to some other women who had gathered in there while I was
upstairs. There were four of them and two children and I found out that I
was in a refuge for abused women. I didn't catch the names of the women but
I did of the children. One was boy of about three years of age and his name
was Terence. The other was a young girl of about my age and her name was
Lucy and it was next to her that I was sat for our dinner, which Mother
Phelps supervised, having a young girl to help her with the household
chores.

   I didn't speak at dinner and it was Mother Phelps who told the others
the reason that I was there on my own, and I got sympathetic looks from all
the others and they respected my silence for which I was grateful.

   It wasn't till after breakfast that I started to speak and that was only
to Lucy, apart from Mother Phelps that is. She was voluble to the extreme
and I knew her whole history within the first thirty minutes without me
saying a word.

   Her full name was Lucy Parsons and that she and her mother were there at
Mother Phelps because her father, Arnold, would repeatedly beat up his wife
when he'd had too much to drink. He was at present, forbidden to see his
wife or child until something could be sorted out by the Social Services
and he had some counselling. It turned out she lived, or had lived, only
two streets away from where I came from. I had a vague idea of who her
father was, having, I think, seen him with my step-father, now deceased
thank God, but I didn't say so.

   It was decided that I should stay with Mother Phelps for a while until
things could be sorted out and it was during this time that I heard more
details from Lucy on how she and her mother used to get beaten up on a
regular basis. I didn't need to ask if he had molested her in any way
sexually, she told me without prompting that he had just started to touch
her breasts which were just starting to form as he beat her. With more
talking I was now certain that I knew the man and I decided there and then
to do something for her.

   That night after everybody had gone to bed, this was ten o'clock in this
house, I got up and quickly and quietly got dressed, and after taking a
knife from the kitchen, slipped out of the kitchen door, making sure that
the catch didn't engage so that I could get back in. It only took me
fifteen minutes to get down to the street next to where I lived and there,
out of sight I waited until the pub closed and the drunks started to make
their way home. It was made easy for me for although I recognised the man,
another drunk shouted out goodnight to him, calling him Arnold. I watched
him weave his way across the road and was pleased that he was taking the
back alley that led to where he lived. Here it was dark and littered with
rubbish and he made enough noise to cover my approach as I crept up behind
him.

   Dark as it was, there was still enough starlight and glow from other
street lights for me to see him stumble just ahead of me and fall to his
knees. He was muttering curses as I leapt on his back and grasped his hair
with my left hand and pulled his head back towards me. Then with the knife
in my right, brought it up under his chin and slit his throat.

   I was up and off of him in an instant as I didn't want any of the blood
to touch me and I saw his body fall forward with a bubbling gurgling noise
that soon stopped as soon as he hit the ground. I didn't stop to check if
he was dead because I was pretty certain that he was as I then set off in a
silent trot out of the alley and then walked the rest of the way back to
Mother Phelps. The kitchen door was as I left it and I slipped inside and
closed and locked the door after me. I then washed the knife and returned
it to its rightful place and went upstairs to my room. There, I carefully
checked over my clothing to see that it wasn't spotted with blood and
satisfied that I was clean, undressed and got into bed. I had a warm glow
inside of me as I settled down and went off into an untroubled sleep.

   It was two days later that the police called and spoke to Lucy's mother,
and then Lucy was told. She cried a bit but then said that she was glad
that somebody had killed him and that she and her mother were now free to
get on with their life and not have the constant fear of being beaten up at
his slightest whim. I was glad for her and said so, and had another glow
inside that I had now committed a second murder without the slightest
suspicion being cast my way.

   I managed to get hold of a newspaper and read of how he'd been found and
it was thought that he had been attacked by muggers. That was from a
national paper, just a few lines, though of course in the local paper there
was a lot more but it came up with the same conclusion. I think that if I
had been older, that warm heat that I felt inside me would have been an
orgasm, but it would be a few years yet before I had that experience.

   The downside to this was that a few days later, Lucy and her mother said
their goodbyes to us as they were returning to their home now that they
were free from the persecution of Arnold Parsons. I cried as I was now
losing the only friend I had come to know not having dared to have any
before because of my step-father.

   Two weeks had passed since his death and I had absolutely refused to
attend the funeral pleading that it would have upset me to have been
there. This excuse, because of my age, was accepted without question and it
was through Miss Johnson who had now been designated as my guardian in
locus parentis for the time being until something could be done with me
officially, and found out that there was some insurance money due to
me. Now the house where I had lived all my life was council owned, I
pleaded with her that the money was put towards the rent otherwise I would
have nowhere to live when all other things were sorted out.

   She was somewhat flustered at my stand on this and had to consult with
her superiors as I think they wanted to get their hands on my money for my
care and upkeep in homes or whatever until I was of age. Mother Phelps
wasn't any help in this department as all she did was take in who the
Social sent to her and paid her some money for the food and lodging.

   I managed to get out of the house and went to the Citizens Advice
Bureau, but they were of no help as I was underage for them to deal with
me. Even several solicitors that I went to would only tell me to go to the
Social Services for them to deal with my case. I was able to avoid Miss
Johnson and went to see Lucy and her mother who I thought might know of
some way to fight this petty bureaucracy that I was now up against.

   She was a real brick and went right into bat for me, and not having a
job and being on welfare, had the time to do it. She knew all the tricks of
getting money out of the government and who to go to for help in nearly all
matters in this respect.

   Inside of a month, she became my foster mother and I was able to move
out from Mother Phelps, who had tears in her eyes as I thanked her for the
kindness shown towards me in my time of distress. Not only did I move in,
but shared a bedroom with Lucy, her mother taking the smaller room so we
had more space and she also secured my house for me from the council. She
had taken them on and though I wasn't living in the house at the present
time, the rent would still be paid from my insurance money. Her and the
solicitor argued that it was the house I had been born in and therefore
still legally a tenant and as the rent was being paid, should not be
dispossessed of the place where I had been born and raised.

   Then it was my thirteenth birthday and Lucy's mother, whose name was
Doris, and insisted that I call her by that name and not to keep addressing
her as Mrs Parsons. Well she made me a lovely birthday cake with the right
number of candles on with the words of Happy Birthday Sally, in different
coloured icing.

   We did have a bit of bother in the court when my proper name was read
out, calling me by my step-father's name of Goodchild to which I strongly
objected. I got a stern look from the judge, or whatever he was when I said
that I hadn't been adopted by him, so therefore I wanted my proper name,
that of my real father which was Driscoll. It was my Christian name that
had brought out the smiles for it was really Salome, but I preferred to be
called Sally. Anyway, I had a lovely little party with a couple of the
neighbours children round and I think we all had a good time.

   Now I hadn't been to school for several months and as I was moving in
with Lucy, it was decided that I should change from my school to go to
hers. I thought this was a good idea and so I really looked forward to it
only to find my third victim.

   I don't know why, but our class teacher who happened to take us for
English in the course of our studies, seemed to take an instant dislike to
me, mind you, the feeling was mutual. Her name was Miss Trout and she lived
up to her name and made it quite clear that she didn't like my given name
of Salome.

   `Salome was a vicious woman who bewitched King Herod and had John the
Baptist killed by demanding his head,' she sneered at me in front of the
whole class. She made me feel so small that I wanted the floor to open up
and swallow me as she went on for nearly ten minutes about my name. I was
in tears by the time I was allowed to go and sit down. From then on, she
was always on my case though I knew more of the spoken word in English than
most of the others in the class, she still found ways of taking me down.

   The whole class had for the whole of the term been studying Shakespeare
of which I only had the most rudimentary knowledge of when she asked us all
to write an essay on this most famous of playwrights. My pathetic attempt
only filled the top quarter of page and then after the test, this paper of
mine was held up to ridicule. How I hated the bitch! I didn't stand a
chance but I put up with it for three months before I made up my mind that
I was going to sort her out.

   I made some sort of excuse to Lucy and I waited near the school until
Miss Trout left and I followed, at a distance, to see where she went,
knowing that she was going home but I needed to find out where. She walked
from the school and down the road to the High Street and then into the
underground station. I hung back a bit till she had gone through the
barrier and then quickly got a return ticket to the next station along the
line, not knowing how far she was going to go.

   I rushed down the escalator and then had a choice of which platform she
might have gone on to, but I was lucky to pick the right one straight away
and saw her further down the platform as the train came into the station. I
rushed along and got into the carriage behind the one that she had got
into, and I stood up there close to the door that connected the two
carriages to see where she got off, which happened to be the fifth one down
the line.

   That was enough for now, I thought, and got off at the next stop and got
the return train back to my starting point and went home for tea with Lucy
and Doris. The following day, I was ahead of this teacher and watched her
come out of her station and followed her to a block of council flats,
surprised that she lived in such a place, but thought that it suited my
purpose admirably. I followed her into the open square that was in the
middle and went and sat on the swings where I could see all the doors of
the flats that faced inwards to this open ground and saw that she was on
the seventh floor and also to which flat she opened the door.

   I had the scene, so now it was a matter of picking the time. I had also
noted that there was some building work going on in one part of the block
and saw what would be an ideal weapon, so I decided upon the following
Friday.

                                                           *