Just Another Bad End?

So, I wrote this with the intention of just posting it as another chapter in my "Bad End" series, but I'm not sure if I should do that or post it is a stand alone story. It is meant to be a one chapter abuse/rape story with an unpleasant ending, and it will remain so either way.

Story codes are M+/f, nc, and probably assorted codes relating to violence. Warning: It is even remotely happy. Reasonably brutal, but, despite the potential ambiguity in the ending, it is not snuff.

I'd be absolutely thrilled if any potential readers could give feedback on whether or not it should be standalone or part of Bad End.

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Human Waste
By Razor7826 (Copyright 2008)

“That was a huge mistake, puta.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, shocked by the young punk’s gall. I never imagined that a lowly piece of trash like him would prove to be so right.

“Puta,” accentuated the low-life thug besides me.

The bartender leaned forward, supporting himself against the bar with his built and hairy arms. “Don’t treat my customers like that.”

“Go to hell, jag-off,” hissed the gang banger.

“Okay, that’s it. Get the hell out of here before I call the cops.” The bartender pointed to the door.

The thug raised his hands in the air and yelled to the entire bar, “Fuck you, asshole, and fuck you, you dumb cunt. You have no idea what you’re missing out on.”

I glanced down at the bulge in his pants, and exclaimed to the bar, “Not much by the looks of it.” Childish calls erupted from the crowd. Score one for Elaine Vesuvia.

He raised his hand threateningly, but lowered it as one of the bartenders put himself between us. “Fine, fine, we’ll go. Bitch, you have no idea what kind of mistake you made.”

I turned back to the bar and finished the drink he had bought me, not even paying attention as they stormed noisily from the bar. Stupid men were always hitting on me at these filthy city bars, but these drunken evenings had brought me enough worthwhile stands to justify my continued patronage.

“Sorry for the trouble, Miss,” apologized the bartender. He returned to his side of the counter and pulled out the vodka and Kahlua. “Have a few on my house.”

I smiled flatteringly, batting my eye lashes and giving him a nice toothy smile. “Thank you. I love chivalry in my men.”

He laughed as he poured me another White Russian. “No problem, ma’am. That’s half of what this job is.”

I feigned laughter. His jokes weren’t nearly as great as his body, but it was getting late. If I didn’t act soon, I’d be alone for the twenty-second night in a row. “I don’t like dirty men like that.” I leaned closer on my stool. “Are you dirty.”

He grinned and responded, “Dirtier than you think.”

Not quite the answer was hoping for, but I bit, carrying on the little game until closing time.

“So, you interested in coming to my place for a few drinks after closing?” I asked, thrusting my chest out as bait.

“No, no, you have the wrong idea. I have plans with my boyfriend over there.” He gestured with his head towards the far corner.

I turned my head to see a hefty, bearded white guy sitting alone in a booth, pouring himself a glass of red wine.

“Wait, what?”

“Sorry if I misled you. I was just trying to be friendly with a customer.” He seemed genuinely apologetic, but I was too damn embarrassed. I threw out two twenties onto the bar, grabbed my purse, and bee lined for the door. That wasn’t the first night I spent hitting on a gay guy, but that didn’t make it any less shameful.

The cold air of the city street hit me like a bucket of water and snapped me back to my senses. How much had I drunk? Seven glasses? Eight? Regardless, I was only two blocks from my apartment and close enough to walk. Crime was rarely an issue in this part of town. I pulled my coat tighter and stumbled along the sidewalk.

Half a block away, my stomach started to rumble. Too much alcohol, yet again. I turned to the gutter just in time to purge the bar food and booze that had been my only sustenance of the evening.

“Awwww, look at the snooty cunt puke up her liquor.” A chorus of laughter erupted behind me.

I recognized the voice. It was the same sleazy banger that had hit on me in the bar. I turned. “I thought I told you to go away?”

“We did, we did, honey, but that queer ain’t here to protect you no more.” He stepped out of the darkness of the alley while his friends lingered to the sides. “Looks like you’re wasting that drink I bought you.”

“Still not interested,” I said, looking down the street. It was empty. I wiped my lip with my sleeve and started walking towards the corner deli.

“Hey, were not done talkin’.”

I ignored him and picked up the pace, but my escape was halted when a hand grasped my arm, pulling me backwards. “Hel…” I began to scream, but another hand covered my mouth as another man flanked my side, pulling me into the darkness of the alley.

The goon held me tightly, both arms squeezed beneath my lower chest, pinning my arms to my sides, while another forced his hand against my mouth, forcing my now persistent screams. Together, they carried me deeper into the alley and around a corner until I was face to face with the same crimson-bandana wearing hooligan from the bar.

He walked up to me and leaned closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “I told you what a mistake it was to turn me down. You could have spent an evening riding El Grande Perro, but instead you had to be a high-and mighty cunt.” He slid his hand up my short black skirt and groped me. “Rejection only matters when there are people around that actually care.” He squeezed my crotch hard, making me cringe. “Tape her up. She’ll regret the day she crossed me for the rest of her life.”

One of his lackeys began to tear off some packing tape. The first piece landed squarely across my lips, ensuring that the rest of my cries for help would remain silent, regardless of how pained they were. I could only stare helplessly as he wrapped the tape in layers around my torso, binding my arms to my sides.

The brute that held me kneeled on the ground and slid his hands down to my thighs. He grabbed the hem of my skirt and pulled, revealing my black panties to his four friends. They bickered among themselves until the shortest member kneeled down between my spread legs. I’ll never forget his sadistic grin as he stared at me, not as a person, but as an object of pleasure

He pulled a switch blade from his pocket and sprung it open. With two swift motions, he slashed through the front of my crimson red turtle neck and black lace bra, exposing my 36C tits to the cold night air. My panties were next, clipped on each side so the center unfolded onto the dirty alley floor.

From there, everything went downhill. He unzipped his pants, flapped out his cock, and rammed it into me, his friend leaning backwards so my pussy was readily exposed.

Pain wracked my body with each thrust as I was slammed onto his cock in rhythm. Weakened by the alcohol and severely outmatched, I could do nothing but experience their darkest desires. Back and forth, he thrust into and impaled my dry hole. I’d never been fucked so hard, nor was I ready for the man beneath me to unzip his pants and join in. Sandwiched between the two men, doubly violated, I thought I was going to die. The other two gang members laughed at my screams and tears as they cheered on their friends. Their impunity hardened the fact that they were on their home turf-- nobody would come to save me, no matter how close to home I was.

When the man on top came inside me, all I could think about was getting pregnant, but those fears slipped to the back of my mind as his place was taken by another… and another, and another, the four scumbags rotating the use of my holes.

Through the early hours of the morning, those filthy gang banging lowlifes owned my body and took sadistic pleasure in abusing me. They all came in me, and on me, until all I could smell was the warm, putrid scent of their filthy spunk as it covered my bruised tits and nipplies.

Beaten and battered, they threw my cum covered body into the dumpster. I fought against them with all my might, but they just laughed.

“Dumb bitch. Shouldn’t have mocked us.”

I hated them for defiling me, but I took solace knowing that I remembered each and everyone of their faces. They’d be arrested, and I would take absolute pleasure identifying each and everyone of them to aid in their sentencing.

However, it was at that moment I realized the horror of my situation. I struggled among the garbage bags, but my arms and legs were bound with tape. I tried to scream, but my mouth was sealed with that wide strip of brown packing tape. How could I get somebody’s attention to escape the dumpster before… before…

Trash pick up.

I struggled harder and fiercer, screaming louder and louder as I thrashed about wildly. Tried as I might, I only sunk deeper beneath the black trash bags that filled the metal coffin.

Down the street, I could hear the slow mechanical hiss of a garbage truck. It drew closer, stop by stop, until it just outside the alley. It backed towards my coffin with a frightening roar.

The metal bars scrapped into the notches along the dumpster and lifted. With all my willpower, I strained my lungs and vocal chords, freeing the tape from my lips and allowing a shriek of terror to echo through the alley, just as I fell into the rear of the dump truck, garbage bags filled with waste piling onto my back.

“Help me, please!” I screamed. “Stop! Stop! Don’t crush me! Please!” Over and over I yelled as the hydraulic pumps closed the truck and begin closing in on itself. I’ll never forget that horrifying noise of the metal walls scrapping in their grooves and crunching the trash beneath them.

“Stop!” I yelled, with every ounce of air in my lungs.

The march of the walls continued.

Knowing it would be my last chance, I took a giant gasp of air, saturating my body with all it could handle. And then, I screamed in one horrific roar, for my life truly did depend on it.

And then, the noise stopped.




Bad End #10