Brigette’s Bad Night © Old Nick’s Man 2005 Brigette drew her head slowly backwards, allowing the man's softening, wet, still throbbing cock to slide between her heavily rouged lips and out of her mouth. She turned her head away, ready to spit the mouthful of thick, sickly semen onto the pavement when his hand grasped her tightly by the hair. "Oh no! I paid you to swallow so you swallow!" His cold, hard voice grated above her as she kneeled on the concrete slabs, her face level with his groin. He smelt musty and unwashed and Brigette could feel a few of his pubic hairs, wiry and hard in her mouth. She rose slowly to her feet. The man was no taller than she was and as her eyes drew level with his, she fixed her gaze on them and with an exaggerated gesture, gulped down the warm, slimy mouthful. The taste and texture, although familiar, still made her gag and shudder, but she made sure it didn't show. Boldly, she opened her mouth to show him it was now empty. Her breath on his face smelt of semen and there were small white droplets on her chin. The man appeared satisfied and slipped his softening cock back into his trousers, zipping his fly quickly. "Do you usually work this street?" He asked, a little more friendly now he had had his way. Brigette nodded. "Then I'll certainly see you again. Soon. What's you name, love?" "Louisa." She replied, giving her professional name. "You're quite good, you know Louisa. A bit inexperienced, but I like that. You’re ok." And with that, the man was gone, around the corner and down the street. Brigette watched him go, her face a picture of scorn and contempt. Then she mechanically smoothed down her short black plastic skirt and brushed a few grains of dust from her knees. Pulling her tight crop top firmly down over her large breasts, she tottered unsteadily into a concealed doorway and by the yellow light of the streetlamp, looked into the small black shoulder bag that had been slung across her back. The man's three £10 notes were tucked next to a disappointingly small roll of money. Still, she thought, cash was cash, and Brigette needed a lot of cash these days. She tottered on her stiletto heels back along the alley to the broad pavement where she took her place on the corner once again, posed and waited. Car after car drove slowly up the road, paused, then drove away again. Brigette leaned over to peer into each dark vehicle as it passed, but found no customers. She sighed, frustrated. There had been little action that night. There had been a big international football match on the television, which was keeping most potential punters indoors and Brigette was cold and bored. She had decided to give up for the night and walk back to her useless boyfriend Andy and his squalid flat. He would be almost unconscious by now, she thought bitterly. Stoned and incoherent. Brigette knew she would leave him – and soon – but tonight was not the night. She remembered their first few weeks together only a few years ago. How they had walked on the beach in the sun; how they had danced through the night; how they had made love in the sand, the sound of the waves constantly in their ears; how he had been tall and athletic. But Andy had been weak. A cold hardness spread through Brigette as she remembered how Andy had first tried ‘soft’ drugs, then had progressed to harder and harder substances; how he had persuaded her to try; how she had naively believed him when he had told her they could always stop if they wanted. And now, here they both were, dependent. And always in need of money. Lots of money. In the sad, but classic manner, first Brigette’s journey to the street had followed the classic pattern of so many girls before her. When their money had run out and they could find nothing to sell in either of their parents’ houses, their dealer, a huge black former boxer called Zak, had offered to exchange drugs for sex. Brigette had been horrified, but to her even greater horror, Andy had readily agreed and the two men had practically forced her into cold, reluctant sex with Zak there and then. Zak had been huge and it had been painful, the dealer insisting on getting his money’s worth for a full hour. But she had walked – sore and unsteady – from Zak’s flat with her pockets stuffed with white plastic bags. Now that the huge psychological barrier had been broken, it was a short, rapid journey from sex with Zak to sex with his close friends, all the time her reward - the number of bags - getting smaller each time she performed until Zak finally moved on to a small blonde eighteen year old schoolgirl and Brigette found herself in need of money again. She had begun working the streets. Dressing as appropriately as she could, Brigette found herself quickly in demand. Avoiding the violent attentions of the other street girls and, more importantly, their pimps, she developed a small following of regulars, but still needed more and more as Andy’s habit grew worse and worse. In her more lucid moments, she felt horrified to see that at nineteen, she was one of the older girls plying their trade in the red light area. But need quickly overcame all other considerations. Andy had been in a bad state when she had left him earlier that evening. Brigette needed lots of business tonight. Brigette had almost reached the main road when a bus pulled up alongside her. The door shushed open and the driver leaned over towards her. The air was full of the sound of coarse singing and the smell of beer. "S'cuse me, love." Brigette slowed but didn't look at the man's face. He went on. "Sorry about the noise. Rugby club" He looked tired and dejected. Brigette smiled wanly and stopped walking. "I'm looking for the motorway. Can you help? Is it right at the lights?" Brigette stepped forward into the doorway to shout instructions. She didn't notice the two young men slipping out through the emergency exit and slinking, heads down around the back of the bus. Reaching the pavement behind her, they straightened up and walked casually along the street until they came level with Brigette, who was leaning into the noisy beer-smelling bus, talking in a loud, slow voice. “You go left at the lights, then straight on until you ….Hey! Stop that!” One on either side, the powerful young men each grabbed one of Brigette's arms and lifted her bodily from the ground, propelling her forward into the bus. As they bundled her along the aisle, the door closed behind her and a load cheer rang out as the bus pulled quickly away and sped off down the road. Brigette was outraged and very frightened. The burly men were very strong and her feet didn't touch the ground until she had been carried the full length of the bus. They pressed her to her knees on the floor in front of the back seat. The back bench seat was occupied by four of the biggest, ugliest men Brigette had ever met. Bull-necked, beer-bellied with broken noses and clearly drunk, they leered at her openly. Brigette began to feel very afraid. The man in the middle grabbed her by the arm and pulled her until she sat on his knee like a little girl. He was incredibly strong. He turned her face towards his and, breathing beer all over her, asked. "You do discounts for bulk purchases?" His friends nearby collapsed with laughter. The bus lurched around a bend and one of the drunken men fell over, his head flopping hard, face down onto Brigette's lap. Roaring with laughter, his friends taunted him. "Can't you wait, Bob?" "No queue jumping!" "You always were one for taking a dive." At this the bus dissolved in laughter again as the hapless Bob pulled himself to his feet again. The bus was now heading out of the city towards the motorway, rolling gently from side to side. Brigette realised she was being taken further away from home and it frightened her. "Come on, guys!" She protested. "Joke's over. Let me out here and I'll walk back home." There was another burst of raucous laughter and she turned to see more than fifteen faces staring down the aisle and over the seat backs. They looked drunk and their eyes were full of lust. The big man on whose knee she was sitting breathed beer over her once again as he spoke. "I don't think so, tart. I think we'll do a bit of business first. What's your name?" "L....Louisa." "Well Louisa, if that I your name, I’m Marcus. How about a quick freebie blow job and we'll take you home?" Brigette tried to appear strong and confident and take some control of the threatening situation. "It's thirty pounds. Cash up front. And I don't swallow." Marcus appeared thoughtful. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a few banknotes. "Here's twenty quid. I'll have to owe you the rest." With relief, Brigette began to feel she might just walk away from this unscathed after all. She wriggled off Marcus’ knee and knelt on the rocking floor of the aisle as he unfastened his belt and clumsily slid his trousers and underpants down to his ankles. Kneeling before him, Brigette looked in disgust at his body. His large beer-belly strained against his tight rugby shirt, beneath which grew a forest of greying pubic hair, spreading down his thighs. From the forest grew the ugliest erection Brigette had yet to encounter. Although no more than five inches long, it was as thick as her wrist - no, much thicker - and a horrible pinky white colour. She looked up at Marcus who was laughing at her. "Never seen a real man before?" He breathed over her. "A deal's a deal, Louisa. Do it." The last words were so intimidating that Brigette forced herself to overcome her revulsion. She took the monstrous cock in her right hand and, tightly closing her eyes, lowered her open mouth onto it. The taste was vile. Stale and unclean, her tongue recoiled, trying unsuccessfully to avoid touching its swollen head. But Marcus wanted his money's worth. "Come on little cocksucker! Blow me!" He yelled and, grabbing the back of Brigette's head, he drove his erection deep into her throat. Brigette gagged and immediately retched, but Marcus was merciless. He thrust his hips upwards again, driving his monstrous, mis-shapen cock into the depths of her throat. Brigette's survival instincts saved her as she fought for breath. She turned her head sideways making the thrusting cock drive into her cheek. It bulged grotesquely. Marcus grabbed Brigette by the ears and bounced her face onto his erection over and over again. She felt dizzy and sick, but through her dizziness it dimly dawned on her that the sooner he came, the sooner her torment would stop. In the desperate desire to end her ordeal, Brigette took the initiative and began to suck hard on his cock, while massaging it with her tongue. Marcus appeared happier and started to drive himself upwards into her throat once again. Brigette held her breath and sucked harder still, using all the technique she could remember to bring him closer and closer to climax until, with a gross animal grunt, hot semen burst from the rounded, swollen head of his cock and sprayed the back of Brigette's throat. She gagged, coughing dollops of milky spray out of her mouth and over the front of his trousers. Marcus pulled her mouth onto his softening erection one last time as he croaked out the last of his passion. Brigette pulled away, letting his flaccid cock fall back onto his lap, a cascade of milky white running down her chin. She looked up at him and he leered back at her. "Well! You're a good little cocksucker after all!" He laughed, his face red and sweating. "I wonder if you're as sweet the other end. Come on, lads. Why should I have all the fun? It’s paid for!" There was a roar of approval from further down the bus. Brigette turned her head to see seventeen angry, lustful faces staring at her. She felt Marcus slide away from her face and suddenly her arms were grasped firmly, painfully by the powerful men either side of her. They forced her face hard into the middle of the bus' back seat until she could barely breathe. She pulled her knees under her in a futile attempt to protect herself but strong hands were upon her, dragging her legs backwards, her short-skirted buttocks pointing along the bus' aisle towards the leering mob. Brigette screamed in fear, but her words sank harmlessly into the rear seat upholstery. She was trembling now, painfully pinioned in this vulnerable position, dimly aware of the bus swinging around in a dark, unlit area and stopping. The throb of the engine died away. She screamed again, this time her cries were cut off sharply by a vicious twist of her right arm up her back. "Let me go! Please let me go!" She whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks onto the seat. In response, she heard the unmistakeable sound of a belt buckle being undone and a metal fly being unzipped. A cheer arose from the mob. She screamed again but this time her cries were drowned out by the low, threatening sound of excited singing. "...Allouette, gentil allouette....." they began. First one voice, then quickly building to a deafening, pulsating roar. Brigette felt strong, rough hands on her buttocks. She gripped her knees tightly together and tried to tuck her legs underneath her for protection. She was rewarded with an excruciating pain in her shoulder as her left arm was wrenched backwards, forcing her face even harder into the foul-smelling rear seat. "Aw look! The little tart's gone all bashful." She heard a voice exclaim. "No need for that, love. We've seen better cunts than yours before." “Go for it Bob. Give her a good one!” And with that, a rending sound rang out over the noise of the singing as Brigette's short skirt was ripped from her waist, its buttons and seam yielding easily to the strong hands upon it. There was another raucous cheer and Brigette gasped with pain as the back of her thong was pulled forcefully upwards. The material was too strong and instead of breaking, Brigette, still kneeling, was lifted bodily from the floor. The strong gusset of the thong tore painfully into her labia as she hung, suspended momentarily in mid air before being contemptuously dropped to the floor. Her head and arms still trapped, Brigette could only gasp and wait for another agonising tug, but instead, her tormentors could wait no longer and she felt the thong being efficiently dragged down her thighs, over her knees and boots and away. She paused, helpless, totally exposed. She knew what was going to happen but still managed one last plea. "Please! Don't do it! Let me go!" Her voice was inaudible above the cacophony of sound that surrounded her. Suddenly she felt her buttocks being spread. A large rough finger was unceremoniously thrust into her dry, bruised vagina. She flinched visibly and tried to wriggle away from the invader. ......SMACK....... A huge, loud, painful blow from the flat of a hand fell across her right buttock leaving a bright red five-finger handprint on her skin. The shock took her breath away and in that split second the finger was thrust deep within her. "Fuck her Bob! Fuck her Bob!" The chanting grew louder around her as Brigette tried to steel herself for what she knew must surely follow. "Fuck her! Fuck her!" The chanting was deafening now as Brigette felt the finger leave her vagina. She closed her eyes and waited. The next second she whelped in pain as the drunken Bob missed her inner passage and rammed his erection clumsily but forcefully into her clitoris. There was laughter around them. "Can't even fuck properly!" Someone shouted. "Want me to hold it for you?" This taunting clearly angered Bob because his next thrust was fully on target and his blessedly thin cock was driven hard into Brigette's already dry, sore vagina. It hurt her. It must have hurt him too because he stopped half way in, burned by the friction. There was a moment of silence. "Christ! He really did it!" Said a voice from the front of the bus. And then the nightmare really began. The singing began again with renewed vigour. Bob, spurred on by it, grasped Brigette’s hips and after a slight withdrawal and ignoring all the discomfort, forced his cock fully into Brigette's vagina. She bit her lip hard against the burning pain, which grew stronger as Bob began to thrust in and out of her. "......there was a girl with a cunt so wide....." The words of the new song filled Brigette's ears as her delicate passage was crudely reamed. It burned as he withdrew, it seared as he thrust himself inwards. Brigette's eyes poured renewed tears onto the filthy seat, unable even to move her head as Marcus pinned her mercilessly down. After what seemed like an eternity, Brigette's body came to her rescue and she began to lubricate. Bob's cock slid more smoothly in and out and the pain reduced. Bob was grunting wildly now, his face screwed up in pleasure and pain as he neared his climax. "Cum now! Cum now! Let me go home!" Wished Brigette so strongly she almost screamed it and in response she felt Bob's tightness begin to break as he came noisily within her. His thrusts quickly died away and eventually ceased before he pulled his softening cock out of her and sat back on his heels, panting. Brigette waited expectantly for the iron grip on her head, shoulders and arms to loosen so she could escape. She waited in vain. The pressure remained. Her ordeal was not over. She felt a small rivulet of semen trickled slowly down the back of her bare thigh. There was a scuffling behind her and in the uneasy silence she heard once again the unmistakeable sound of an opening zipper. “Oh God, no! Not again!” She thought, unable to speak from the pressure on her throat. But there was more. Much more. One by one they took her. Every last one of them. Some roughly, some carefully. Some cocks were painfully large, some smaller and slimmer. Some rode her bareback, some with rubbers. Some were hesitant, forced on by their friends, some were hard bodied and violent. One, two.... eleven, twelve... Brigette gave up counting, her eyes tightly closed, biting hard on her lip in a futile attempt to blind her from the pain and humiliation. Her vulva burned like fire as she was penetrated time and again. Her lubrication quickly dried up to be replaced by the foul lake of semen building within her body. Her dizzy head span and span, the bus’ dim internal lights moving in circles around her. She began to feel truly sick, retching, her mouth filling with bile, and all the time Marcus' arm pressed down on her neck, holding her helpless, pinned to the seat. Her buttocks were red with the repeated slapping of men’s thighs against them. He knees bruised through being hammered into the bus’ hard vinyl floor. Time and again they fucked her until she was so sore she could barely tell when she had been penetrated and when she had not. Her legs felt wet and weak and as the last pulsing, softening cock was pulled from her fiery red inner lips, Marcus finally released her neck from his vice-like grip. She collapsed against the metal frame of the seat. Thank God! It was over! She silently cried in relief. But it was not over. There was still one more horror in store. “My turn now, lads!” Instead of the expected release, Brigette froze in terror as Marcus, laughing hollowly, squeezed past her kneeling head and body and took the vacant place between her splayed legs. He lowered his trousers and boxer shorts triumphantly, his short, monstrously thick erection bursting aggressively forwards. 'One more.' Begged Brigette silently, her eyes and mouth still tightly closed. 'Please make this the last one. Please!' The next second her eyelids flew open and her mouth opened wide in shock as without warning, Marcus' large, rough-skinned thumb was crudely and viciously pressed into her anus. "You didn't think I'd stick my beautiful cock where all these dirty buggers have been, did you?" He laughed horribly and leaned over her back. His mouth was close to Brigette's ear as he breathed more beery breath over her face. "I'm going to fuck your ass good and proper, whore. I want my money’s worth!" He twisted his thumb cruelly in her rectum. Brigette rolled her head slowly round. She couldn't bear to face him, her eyes were crusted with dried tears. "Please! Please, don't! Please!" She croaked despite her exhaustion and nausea, but to no avail. "Hold her tight, boys." Marcus ordered, forcing his left thumb deep into her anus alongside his right as strong hands again gripped her arms and throat. Brigette felt violated as never before. An anal virgin still, her sphincter was tight and resisted Marcus painfully. Involuntarily, she tried to void her bowels to rid herself of this invasion, but the action merely relaxed her anus for a split second. Marcus immediately took advantage of this and pulled her wide open with his strong hands. He spat onto and into her open orifice, laughing mirthlessly as Brigette's face contorted into yet more extreme grimaces of pain. Pulling his thumbs suddenly away, Marcus quickly placed the head of his cock against her sphincter and pressed forward. He grunted in anger as her anus sprang shut, denying him entrance. He spat on her once again, then with a loud animal grunt, thrust his hips forward violently. Brigette felt a 'pop' within her and a huge, vile presence burst into her rectum. She immediately retched as her body tried vainly to expel the invading monster. Marcus realised he had finally penetrated her and pressed himself home. With one, two violent thrusts he buried his cock in Brigette's rectum until his balls slapped against her sore, swollen labia. Brigette couldn't believe the horror within her. Her anus was stretched tightly and painfully around the huge shaft which reached deep within her body, tearing at her guts and tightening her chest and her throat. Her head rolled, eyes widely staring from side to side, her body paralysed by the rod on which she was impaled. Marcus began to thrust in and out of Brigette's rectum. She was dry and again the friction burned him. He spat on his shaft once more and grunted in satisfaction as his passage eased. Brigette’s body made disgusting slurping, rasping noises as air was forced past her tight sphincter by the invading shaft. As he gained rhythm, Marcus' huge weight repeatedly struck her buttocks as his cock was driven deeper and deeper into her body. With every powerful stroke her head was rammed into the seat back, the vomit-soaked material rubbing her cheeks sore. Her cervix was bruised, her perineum nearly torn and the pressure on her bladder was painful. As Marcus’ pace and violence increased, Brigette began to lose consciousness. Her eyes became glazed and lost their focus and a film of mist crossed her consciousness as, with a sickening wet feeling passing down her thighs, Brigette’s sphincter finally yielded, giving up all resistance and opening wide to allow Marcus unfettered access to the heart of her body. Marcus yelled aloud in triumph and, grasping her hips, began the short sharp thrusts that would quickly bring him to orgasm. He thundered into Brigette's rectum, and as he finally began to cum, adding his semen to the river that now flowed down her inner thighs, Brigette's body gave up its last grain of control and on consciousness. The last thing she felt before the black blanket of unconsciousness overwhelmed her was the final humiliation of her bladder giving way and a stream of her own urine washing away the semen tracks from her legs. Brigette's body went limp and she collapsed in a heap on the sticky floor of the bus. The singing stopped. There was a sudden silence. Marcus, leaning over her inert frame was pumping the last few spurts of his semen into her rectum. He felt rather than heard the silence around him. Slowly he pulled his spent cock from her gaping, bleeding anus and sat back, panting. "Oh God! Is she dead?" Came a voice from the back. "She is, she's dead!" "Shut up, Mike. Fucking shut up!" Yelled Marcus. "What have you done?" Mike's voice was high, hysterical. "You've killed her!" "Whatever it is, you did it as well. That's your spunk on her legs too, you snivelling bastard. Remember that!" "I wanted to let her go. You all heard me." Mike protested, almost in tears. "Tell it to the judge.” The silence was long and ominous. Then Marcus spoke. “We’ve got to stick together or we’re all for it!” He thought for a minute, panting, and then said “She’s not dead you stupid bastard! Now shut up! Just everyone do as I say and we'll all be ok." The long, sleek police patrol car slowly turned a corner into the darkened industrial estate. “I hate coming out here alone!” The older man said. “They never wonder what we’ll do if we meet a gang of ram raiders rather than a bunch of kids.” His colleague smiled. Whinging Willy, as he was known, always had a grievance and tonight was no exception. Everybody knew that, when the chips were down, Willy would always be in the right place; do the right thing, but meanwhile you just had to put up with his…. "Look out!" He suddenly screamed. Phil turned suddenly and hit the brakes hard, the wheels skidding loudly on the road as the car came to a shuddering halt just inches from a pale, shivering shape at the side of the road in front of them. He leapt out of the car and ran towards the obstruction. It was a person. "What the hell do you think you're .....Hey! Are you alright?" Willy was already half out of the passenger door. "What is it, Phil?" He ran to his side. "Oh my God!" On the verge in front of them was a thin, pale girl. Her face was raddled, dirty and bruised. She was naked from the waist down, the dark triangle of her pubic hair in stark contrast to the white flesh of her thighs. Her legs, still in knee-high boots but with two broken heels were covered in dirt and something disgusting and sticky. There was blood on her thighs. Phil knelt alongside her and felt for a pulse. "She's really cold but she’s alive at least and..." he leaned closer. "...still breathing. Get my overcoat, Will." As Phil laid the coat over the prone figure, his voice dimly breaking through to her consciousness, Brigette stirred and tried feebly to raise herself up. "No more. Hurts too much." She mumbled incoherently. Phil wrapped the coat tightly around the girl and held her close to warm her up. She began to shiver, but he held her tightly and eventually colour started to return to her lips. “What’s your name? What happened to you?” He asked as calmly as he could. There was no reply from the glazed eyes. Suddenly he sprang back, almost dropping her on the wet road. “Brigette! Christ! What’s happened to you?” He looked closely at Brigette’s battered face. "Brigette! It IS you!” He turned to Will. “She’s an old friend of my daughter’s. I hardly recognised her, she’s so badly beaten up. And she's lost a lot of weight. We should get her to hospital, now. Call control – and call an ambulance" Brigette wriggled and began to scream. "No! No more! No more!" She yelled, pushing Phil’s arms away. He held on to her tightly to comfort her and the half-hearted hysterics subsided. The two policemen looked at each other. "Is she drunk? On drugs?" "Could be either – or both, knowing Brigette." "Have you called that ambulance?” “It’d be quicker to drive her. Much quicker! Come on!” Between them they supported Brigette's crumpled body as she staggered to the back seat of the patrol car. Will wrapped Brigette tightly in his overcoat and fastened the seat belt around her before climbing in next to her. They drove quickly to the hospital, sirens blaring.