Wrecker

KIRSTIE (ghostgirl)

Kirstie huddled in the passenger seat for a good five minutes before she dared to cast a furtive glance toward the silent girl at the wheel, whose face was mostly lost in shadow, eyes fixed on the road. The tow truck swayed slightly as they rounded a wide curve. They seemed to be going awfully fast. Kirstie craned her neck to get a glimpse of the speedometer, reaching up and back for the seatbelt clip. At her movement Cat lifted the pistol from between her thighs and poked at Kirstie's cheekbone with the muzzle.

The blonde instantly returned her hands to her lap. She felt reasonably sure that Zane's crazy ex-girlfriend wouldn't actually shoot her, but she didn't like her waving the gun around, either. She stole another glance at Cat. The redhead's face was an ivory mask of intensity, lit up at regular intervals, then swallowed in darkness between the freeway lights as the truck breached city limits and slowed for the first exit.

Kirstie's eyes widened as they drove past the big "Red's Garage & Tow" sign fronting the garage without slowing, but Cat turned in at the next gate along the frontage road, rolling down the driver's window to punch in a code on the keypad. They cruised slowly through the narrow canyons confined by looming, moonlit stacks of rusting automotive corpses, until Cat found a spot that seemed to satisfy her. The slender redhead jumped out, disconnected the cable, and switched off the blinking lights; as she slid back under the wheel, she flashed a grin at Kirstie that only widened when the blonde flinched. Kirstie watched the her unhitch the Prius without leaving the driver's seat; the car coasted into place between two unrecognizable wrecks.

***

Cat parked the truck behind the garage and turned to Kirstie, reaching over to pat her smooth, sunkissed knee. "Time for a little girl-talk, Kirstie." She scooped up the pistol and aimed it at the pink fuzzy sweater, keeping her eyes on the blonde's face as she opened the driver's door and found the concrete with her feet. "Get out."

Kirstie climbed out; Cat was at her side in a blurry flash of motion, steering her by the elbow toward a metal door topping three cement steps. The little redhead released her grip to unlock it, then shoved Kirstie in ahead of her. She stumbled along a dark corridor, guided by Cat's pushes and grabs, until the space opened out around her and Cat hauled her to a stop. Florescent lights flicked on, buzzing, overhead; the blonde blinked and took in the mechanic bays and incomprehensible array of parts racks, pneumatic tools, and diagnostic equipment.  Kirstie turned to face the redhead, who laid the pistol on a counter, then leaned against it, hands on her sleek hips.

"Cathy..." Kirstie sought the girl's eyes, but Cat was staring at a pegboard lined with tools on hooks. "Look, I understand you're really upset about Zane and all, but -"

"Shut the fuck up, you stupid cow," the redhead spat, cutting her off without looking at her. "You don't understand shit. But not to worry, I'm going to give you a little remedial tutoring." Cat lifted something from the pegboard and walked over to her. "Wrists."

Kirstie took a hasty step backward, bumping into a shelf. "Come on, Cathy, this has gone far enough. You're not going to..." The girl had already grabbed one of her wrists and was looping a thick rubber strap around it, tugging it tight and securing it with a small metal catch.

Kirstie's mouth fell open; she shut it quickly and yanked her arm away. The free end of the strap hissed past Cat's face, barely missing her right eye, making the girl flinch and snap her head back. Then her eyes, slitted and blazing, met Kirstie's, and Kirstie found herself sprawled on the oily cement floor, holding her stinging, throbbing cheek, dazed and in tears, while Cat stood over her, bouncing on her toes and rubbing the back of her hand.

"Let me explain about our little slumber party." As Cat spoke, Kirstie tilted her tear-streaked, flushed face up to her, her eyes wide and brimming, her breasts bobbing under her stained sweater.

"The garage is closed for the weekend, blondie. My uncle likes to take the boys up to the cabin for the opening of deer season. Do feel free to scream all you like, no one will be around until Monday morning." Cat was pacing, ticking off points from a chart in her head, looking just as she did when Kirstie had her as teaching assistant for that miserable computer science course. The redhead switched directions; in a few feline strides she was standing over Kirstie again, gazing down at her, her green eyes glittering. From this angle, Kirstie could see the lower curves of Cat's breasts; her t-shirt draped loosely from pink nipples tightened into stiff peaks. Kirstie forced her eyes back to Cat's.

"We'll make some phone calls, I'm positive Zane will be relieved to know you're having a study group weekend. He hates clingy bitches, almost as much as I hate moronic bigtit bimbos. And once we take care of that, it'll be just us girls." Cat paused and reached down, twining her fingers in Kirstie's soft golden waves; Kirstie pulled her head away, but the girl's fingers only tightened, pulling her hair with a sharp little tug. Kirstie lowered her eyes and stared at the greasy floor as Cat continued.

"...then I can give you a few tips on proper auto maintenance and safety essentials every girl ought to know." She fisted her hand in Kirstie's hair and yanked hard; Kirstie scrambled awkwardly to her feet. "Now give me your god-damned wrists."

***

As soon as her wrists were bound behind her, Cat pounced back into her field of vision with that grin on her pretty, pale face. Kirstie stared at her, tremulous; her hopes of calming Cat down  were dust. The redhead's eyes were on her smudged sweater.

"Well, first things first, right? Let's have a look at the mammoth boobs Zane lost his sanity over." Cat grabbed Kirstie's sweater and jerked it up over her lacy white bra. "Underwire... that can't be much fun, but I guess those jugs need the support, huh?"

The little redhead grabbed her bra, and tried to jerk it up like her sweater, but only succeeded in dragging her breasts upward. Cat gave Kirstie's bra a few furious yanks, watching her tits bounce, until the front closure popped open in her fist.

Cat let go and stepped back, staring at Kirstie's soft, round, golden-tanned tits, each crowned with dusky rose areola and perked nipple.

Kirstie held her breath, watching Cat's face anxiously. For the first time, the redhead seemed uncertain, even a bit stunned. Then Cat's eyes narrowed; Kirstie squealed in terror before the girl's sharp slap connected with her left tit, sending a bolt of pain all the way to her collarbone and setting both swaying heavily.

"Yep, those are big'uns," Cat hissed through her teeth as she aimed a hard smack at Kirstie's right breast. "I'd want to tittyfuck those myself, if I were a guy."

***

Kirstie hung her head and sobbed quietly as Cat turned on her heel and walked away from her. Both of her breasts showed stinging red hand prints.  She didn't look up again until the redhead bent and placed the heavy-duty jump starter at Kirstie's feet and grabbed the cables, straightening to squeeze the heavy black and red clamps open and shut under Kirstie's nose.

"Does Zane fuck those tits a lot, blondie?" Cat lowered the clamps to a point level with Kirstie's nipples.

Kirstie started, stared, shrieked, and then burst into tears, hunching her shoulders forward, curling at the waist, lifting one knee as close to her vulnerable breasts as humanly possible.

"Jeez, Kirstie, calm down. I haven't even put them on yet." Cat slammed Kirstie's knee with the copper alligator nose of the red clamp; Kirstie gasped and dropped her knee.

"Would you happen to know which tit is positive, and which is negative? I always forget."

***

Kirstie squealed and wriggled and kicked as Cat tried to clamp her nipples, until Cat stopped, dropped the cables, and stood looking quietly at Kirstie.

Kirstie stopped too, and slowly sank into a crouch, panting and sobbing.

"I guess that's a little over the top, huh?" Cat's voice was soft and calm, although she too was breathing hard.

Kirstie looked up at her. Her breasts burned and ached from the slaps, and her face was wet and hot. Cat bent down, gently brushed sticky golden strands of hair from Kirstie's forehead, and helped her stand. After a moment the little redhead slipped a hand over her bound forearm and carefully led her away from the jump starter, its cables coiled like snakes on the cement.

Cat parked Kirstie next to the engine hoist and slipped behind her. Very soon her wrists were free, though one was still wrapped in rubber; Cat slipped her palm under Kirstie's and slid around in front of her again. The redhead held her hand and smiled at Kirstie, holding her free hand out palm up for Kirstie's rubber-strapped wrist.

Kirstie heaved a shuddering sigh and placed her other wrist in Cat's upturned palm.

Cat grabbed the free end of the rubber strap and wrapped it tightly around Kirstie's unbound wrist before Kirstie could react, flipping the metal catch and locking them together in front of her. Then Cat slipped a hook on a chain under the strap.

Cat stepped on a pedal, and the chain clanked, pulling Kirstie's arms up over her head. Within seconds she was dangling in the air, straining for the cement with her toes, which barely brushed the cracked, oil-stained floor.

The redhead crouched and grabbed one of Kirstie's flailing ankles, slipping a yellow poly cargo strap around it and tying off on the upright strut of the engine puller. The blonde managed a feeble kick with her free leg, which Cat easily dodged. Then Cat caught that ankle, too, and tied it to the opposite strut.

Cat stepped back and surveyed with a critical eye, hands on hips. Kirstie twisted and writhed,  tugging at the binds, breasts bouncing, hips swaying, whimpering as her shoulders and arms began to flare with pain, a molten ache spreading from her shoulder blades.

The redhead nabbed a box cutter from the counter and the hem of the pink sweater, which was creeping back down over Kirstie's left tit. Kirstie gasped and froze as Cat began sawing upward, steering the razor blade unevenly toward her cleavage. Cat cut her sweater open, then sliced through the fuzzy shoulder straps. It fell to the floor in a small, bedraggled pink heap, followed swiftly by Kirstie's lacy bra. Cat kicked them both into a corner.

"Please, Cathy, don't do this." Kirstie's mouth and throat were so dry with fear she could barely form words. The little redhead tossed the knife back onto the counter, then just stood and watched her in silence. Kirstie began crying again.

After a minute or so, Cat turned away and went back for the jump starter.

***

"Now then, where were we?" Cat dumped the heavy box on the cement directly below Kirstie's pink-thonged pussy. "Oh, yeah...tittyfucking." The redhead crouched and scooped a clamp from floor.

Cat pinched Kirstie's right nipple between a forefinger and thumb, pulling her nipple away from her breast and her breast away from her chest. Cat squeezed the red handles in her other hand, positioned the copper jaws around Kirstie's areole as the blonde watched in mute horror, and slowly, slowly released; metal teeth sinking deeply into Kirstie's tender, sensitive flesh.

Kirstie shrieked.

She was too busy writhing and bucking to see Cat bend down for the black clamp. Cat watched her for long seconds, breathing raggedly, before she slapped Kirstie's face, hard.

"Hold still, dammit." Cat fastened the black clamp to Kirstie's left nipple. Then she just stood and watched, as Kirstie wriggled and bounced and wept and pleaded and tore futilely at her binds, her tits bobbing and swinging, the cables lashing like furious tails.

After a while, Kirstie slowed her thrashing by degrees until she hung limp and silent from the chain. The icy, fiery agony crawled over her breasts and dug long-nailed fingers of pain into her quivering belly and up into her shoulders, trembling with the strain of her stretch.

A soothing, welcome numbness tickled the edges of the pain. Kirstie lifted her head and met Cat's eyes; the redhead stirred groggily, as if waking from a trance, and sighed, almost inaudibly.

***

"Well. I can see the attraction, I have to admit. Your tits are definitely fun, blondie." Cat stretched her arms over her head, mirroring Kirstie's pose for a moment. Then the redhead took a step closer and inspected Kirstie's clamped nipples, her eyes avid.

"Soft and bouncy and fun. I can even see why you let Zane fuck them... I mean, after all, what else could an empty-headed, helpless little bimbette like you possibly have to offer?" Cat leaned to one side and cast a glance at Kirstie's rear end, more exposed after her skirt climbed her hips in her wild struggles.

"Then again, your ass looks like soft and bouncy fun, too, but you don't let him fuck that." Cat grinned; Zane had pestered her for the back door constantly.

Kirstie's face got very, very hot.

She loved Zane. She would do anything for him.

Cat flicked a quick glance at Kirstie as she bent over the starter...looked down at her own slim pale hand, hovering over the voltage knob...then back at Kirstie's face again, staring. The slow dawn of recognition rose in the redhead's green eyes; an incredulous smile spread over her face.

"Oh...my...god..." Cat straightened and put a hand to her hip, staring at Kirstie. "You do, don't you, you fucking slut."

Kirstie closed her eyes. A lone tear escaped to roll down her cheek.

"You let Zane fuck your ass."

***

Cat began pacing again. "Kirstie..." The redhead stopped and stared at Kirstie. "...you filthy whore, don't you have even a shred of self-respect?" Kirstie swallowed hard and stared at the ground. She heard Cat's pacing start up again.

"It all makes sense now, you worthless little pig. And everyone thinks you're a sweet, oh-so-innocent angel of compassion." The sound of Cat's footfalls stopped. "Even I thought so." The little redhead's voice was soft and bitter.

Cat walked up to Kirstie and raised her hand for a slap; her arm hung suspended in the air for  seconds as the bound blonde cringed and averted her face, before Cat changed her mind and snatched at the cables, giving them a vicious tug. Kirstie jerked and moaned. The numbness dissolved instantly; her tits were on fire again.

Cat didn't stay to watch. She paced the garage, scanned the shelves, crouched and rifled a couple of toolboxes, searching.

***

"Okay, Kirstie, I'm willing to concede that maybe I'm being a little judgmental here." Cat looked at Kirstie, dangling from the hoist, from across the room; Kirstie's wriggling had stopped again. "The end justifies the means, right?"

Cat plucked a gleaming tool from the box and strolled back over to Kirstie. "After all, you have Zane now, and I have no date on Friday night." The redhead slipped a cellphone from her pocket, punched a button, and held it up to Kirstie's face. Kirstie focused on her own image, blurred by tears, on the tiny screen. Then Cat closed it and slipped the phone back into her pocket.

"On the other hand, you stole my boyfriend by letting him fuck you up the ass."

"Here's what we're going to do, blondie." Cat dropped a long socket driver with a clang on the cement. "We're going to make a tutorial. For all those poor, unenlightened girls like me who just don't comprehend the inner wisdom of the whole assfucking thing." Cat gazed down at the wrench contemplatively.

Kirstie whimpered softly. Cat looked up at her. "You're going to fuck yourself, in the ass, and show us all how it's done." Cat stared back down at the wrench, then stretched her arm for a can of motor oil on a nearby shelf. "Lube." She waggled the can in Kirstie's face.

"You'll demonstrate, I'll film, and we'll have something to upload to Facebook within an hour."

PITCH (VVV)

 

The chick driving the wrecker was crazy, Pitch thought, pushing his box truck hard to keep up with the amber safety lights attached to the trunk lid of the Prius. If the wrecker had not been struggling with its ungainly load of a towed vehicle, he could not have stayed with it. At least the speed meant that Pitch did not have long to wait to find out what the redhead's intentions were with the blonde.

 

The tow driver had vandalized the blonde's car, Pitch considered, giving Kirstie time to escape. Only the blonde's odd reaction meant Kirstie was still there when the redhead decided to take her. Pitch saw that this abduction was not planned, was likely based on a personal connection between the girls. The redhead couldn't be experienced in this kind of thing, as young as she was and as incautious. She destroyed a car in a public place with her victim unsecured. At any moment some motorist might have come by and summoned the highway patrol.

 

Whatever the redhead planned to do with the blonde, she seemed quite anxious to get to it.

 

The exit came and the tow truck hurtled off the highway, the Prius seeming just on the edge of sliding off the ramp at any moment. Then the wrecker was on the frontage road. Traveling at a more reasonable speed on the ramp, Pitch was able to see the truck pass the front of "Red's Garage and Tow", travel a short distance along the chain link fence that sprang from the side of the garage, and swing very wide to pull up to a gate in the fence. Coming now onto the frontage road himself, Pitch saw the gate roll open and the wrecker move slowly through.

 

The man made a quick assessment. There were some vehicles, including trucks, parked on the road despite the "no parking" signs, some half pulled up onto sidewalks that probably saw little foot traffic. The bays of the garage fronting on the street were dimly lit – only enough to let someone outside see if someone who didn't belong inside at night was there. The six foot high fence was topped with razor wire. The Prius was now being hauled through the gate.

 

Pitch pulled the box truck part way onto the sidewalk just after he passed the end of the garage. A pedestrian gate with a chain and padlock stood next to the garage and his parking job purposely blocked the sight of it from the street, but Pitch decided against using it for now.

 

This was worth the risk, Pitch thought, jumping down out of the truck's cab with his kit bag in hand and a .380 tucked into his belt. He walked quickly toward the gate as it closed, looking into the yard where the truck had turned right behind a building inside the tow yard. He knew that this reckless redhead's mind would be focused on her beautiful blonde captive, especially now that she had returned to her own turf.

 

Pitch slid sideways through the gate and moved to find concealment in the shadows of the sparsely lit yard.

* * * *

Peeking around the corner of the building in the middle of the tow yard, back from the street, Pitch saw the copper haired tow truck driver take the blonde by the elbow and guide her to a door at the other corner of the building. Under the light burning above the door Pitch observed the redhead unlock a deadbolt then push Kirstie inside. Bag in hand, Pitch closed his right eye and trotted along the rear of the building to the door.

First, he put his ear to the cool metal of the door. Nothing. Never doubting the door would be unlocked, as distracted as this crazy bitch must be, Pitch set his bag down, pulled the .380 from his waistband with his right hand, and slowly opened the door with his left just a crack to find darkness inside. A little more and he peered in, opening his right eye that was better adjusted to the dark. He saw a corridor at the end of which lights were coming on.

Pitch reached for his bag, stepped in, and closed the door. He crept down the hall, boxes stacked on the floor, a few doors on the right hand side. Now he heard voices from the lighted room ahead.

“Wrists,” a woman said. Pitch did not think the voice was much like Kirstie’s quiet tone. He still could not see anyone, though he could see that the lighted room was a large garage. When he came to the last door on his right before the garage Pitch tried the knob and opened it just a crack. No lights were on inside.

Pitch slipped into the room and learned that, as he had hoped, it was an office with a window that opened onto the garage. The lights out in the garage were high and focused on the shop floor, leaving much of the office in which Pitch stood in shadow despite the big open sliding window. Standing in the darkness, the man settled in for the show just in time to see the little redhead – Kirstie had called her “Cathy” – deck the taller blonde with a backhand.

Tough little cookie, Pitch thought with a smile.

“The garage is closed for the weekend, blondie,” Pitch heard as he watched the redhead pacing in front of the keeling blonde. “Do feel free to scream all you like, no one will be around until Monday morning.”

Pitch now had a chance to see the redhead better. Her belly was flat and smooth, a narrow field of creamy skin that Pitch’s eyes strolled on, not sure whether to head up or down first. Then she bent down to grab Kirstie by the hair and Pitch’s eyes were caught by her red thong as it peeked over the top of the tight jeans that rode low on the redhead’s hips –hips that swelled just enough to show she was a girl. Moving up, Pitch noted that her short t-shirt barely covered her breasts and did not conceal the stiffness of her nipples. Her eyes shone with green fire as she shot her hard edged words at Kirstie and when she was moving, which seemed to be always, her straight coppery hair whipped around in scourging ponytail of fire.

As she dragged Kirstie to her feet by the hair, Pitch heard her say, “Now give me your goddamned wrists.” He watched with increasing excitement as Cathy – Pitch found this an ugly name and changed it – Catherine secured her captive’s wrists behind her back. This was going beautifully.

“Let’s have a look at the mammoth boobs Zane lost his sanity over,” Catherine said before yanking the pink fuzzy sweater up over Kirstie’s bra. To Pitch’s amusement when Catherine tried the same thing with the bra the size of the blonde’s breasts defeated her. Finally the bra’s clasp opened, Kirstie’s jugs spilled out, and Pitch joined Catherine in admiring the blonde’s perfect tits.

Then with a full swings Catherine first slapped Kirstie’s left tit then her right, leaving the girl’s big breasts swinging while Kirstie sobbed in pain and humiliation.

“I’d want to tittyfuck those myself, if I were guy,” Catherine hissed.

Pitch was now almost fully erect, basking in the realization he had fallen in to something amazing – he would watch as this redhead punished an abducted blonde.

* * * *

Pitch watched with a silent chuckle as Catherine tried and failed to attach the clamps from a battery charger to Kirstie’s breasts. Naturally the blonde, who only had her wrists bound behind her, fought this. The amusement became tinged with admiration as Pitch saw Catherine adeptly string the too-trusting doe eyed girl up from an engine hoist.

“Please, Cathy, don’t do this,” Kirstie croaked after the redhead cut the hanging girl’s sweater and bra off. But Catherine dragged the battery charger over to her captive and, with deliberation, sank the teeth of a metal clamp into one of the blonde’s juicy nipples. The resulting scream echoed around the garage and passed from tip to balls through Pitch’s hard rod. A second clamp on the hanging girl’s other nipple left Kirstie begging her tormentor and thrashing futilely in her bonds.

The effect of Kirstie’s suffering on Catherine amazed the man. She stood still, silent, appearing to take in every jerk and twitch, every pleading word, every tear that fell until Catherine... sighed.

“You’re tits are definitely fun, blondie,” Catherine said, moving in for a closer look at the clamp-tormented nipples. Pitch had come to understand that the Catherine was angry with Kirstie because of a boyfriend named “Zane.” Though interesting, the better story here was how this little redhead was getting into humiliating and hurting her bound blonde bitch.

“What else could an empty-headed, helpless little bimbette like you possibly have to offer,” Catherine said before checking out the blonde’s ass in a very obvious manner.

“But then your ass looks like soft and bouncy fun, too, but you don’t let him fuck that,” Catherine said, her crude and jovial observations, Pitch thought, cattily honed to cut at the young blonde’s pride. Then Pitch saw Kirstie hang her head and he knew.

Catherine was not far behind in realizing the truth she had dug up. Hand on her hip, Catherine stared at Kirstie. “You do, don’t you, you fucking slut. You let Zane fuck your ass.”

Pitch watched keenly as this drama unfolded. Catherine paced and quietly spoke bitter, sarcastic words to her beautiful captive. The angry redhead ripped the clamps of Kirstie’s tits, setting her to bouncing and moaning at the renewed pain in her jugs.

Catherine then walked away from Kirstie. For a moment Pitch thought she might be coming out in the hall, but instead the girl was searching for something. When she found it Catherine walked back over to the suspended slut and snapped a picture of the girl’s tear stained face with a cell phone before laying out the vicious truth that had brought the girls to this point tonight: “You stole my boyfriend by letting him fuck you up the ass.”

Pitch became even more aroused as the redhead dropped a socket driver on the floor and explained her cruel plan to the whimpering bitch. “We’re going to make a tutorial,” the redhead said, “For all those poor, unenlightened girls – like me – who just don’t comprehend the inner wisdom of the whole assfucking thing.”

Catherine got real close to Kirstie, chin pointed up at the hanging blonde’s face.

“You’re going to fuck yourself, in the ass, and show us all how it’s done,” the redhead said. She shoved a can of motor oil near Kirstie’s face, saying, “Lube.”

Pitch realized two wonderful things at that moment. He was about to witness this sick bitch anally rape another girl, and, when he took little Catherine in the same manner, he would be conquering virgin territory.

It only became better a moment later when Catherine explained she would film Kirstie’s shameful abuse.

Pitch didn’t dare to touch his prick when he quietly told it, “Patience.”