Beat-Up Day, ch 5

Written by Singledad

I had been beaten badly and Dad had stopped the proceedings, for the first time ever, but he said that he thought the guy was going to kill me, and anyway a beating that severe would render me useless for the rest of the session. I was glad he stopped the man, I like my pain sessions, but this was too extreme

After lunch I shakily stood and went in the room where the circle were gathered, Dads must have arranged it but Don came over, I shrank back a bit.

"Don't be afraid little one" He said

"I apologise, I was out of order, guess I got carried away"

I explained that I really did like to be beaten up, to be hurt, but that that was too much all in one go. he turned to Dad and told him what a lucky sod he was.

The room darkened a bit and the little girl Maria walked in pushing the Delores who was about three I suppose in her stroller, Maria was about seven, under four feet, and wearing cute shorts, and a barbie teeshirt, her little sister was in a little sunfrock with spaghetti straps I knew that Don was about to mangle at least one maybe both of them, I knew his type, I had experienced him, and I admit I was a bit excited, and relieved it wasn't going to be me.

He went to the cupboard and selected a rod, it was curtain pole I seem to remember, about two feet long, he told one of his mates to 'hold her real good' the man took the seven year old child Maria, and sat back on a stool, he grasped the girl from behind under the arms, Don ripped the teeshirt off her and roughly pulled the shorts to her knees, she obviously wasn't used to such treatment and started ti whimper. She wore the most darling knickers, with a little mermaid motif on the front, he stroked over the front of them but left the knickers in place, and went to the side of her, he raised the pole and brought it down across both nipples, it made a cruel thud. The child didn't scream or cry at first, her eyes went large as if she was totally surprised, then the pain of impact reached her and replaced the surprise.

She let out the most agonised shriek you ever heard, he didn't let her take another breath before several hard strikes landed on her tummy and chest, angry stripes appeared, he started in on her relentlessly, did he ever lay into her, she was snorting snot from her nose, crying, trying to take large gulps of air to fuel the crying, and in most cases not managing it. the blows kept coming, I suppose thirty by now, she pissed in her knickers and it ran down over the knees of the guy who was holding her.

"Gimme her back to mess up Archie" the frenzied man gasped to his friend,

Arhie deftly spun her around, he grasped her with one hand as he started to grope for her sex with the other, the blows started again, a different sound now, as I suppose her bones were nearer the surface or maybe just the anatomy was different, the blows made a heavy echoing sort of thud, he wasn't letting up, the kid was getting hysterical, trying without success, to twist free of the hold Archie had her in and the rain of blows.

I noticed how Archie had wormed his hand into her knickers and was probably being none too gentle in there with the little girls sex, I was beginning to get turned on, is that awful? the child was sweating and beginning to get bloody, Don didn't seem to notice, he was out of control, I wondered how he got any sexual satisfaction from it, the little girl suddenly went limp, her brain probably just shut down, Don stopped, his chest heaving with the exertion, he looked over at Dad, dad just shrugged, the unconscious rule didn't apply as these children were not under his protection as I was. This huge and powerful man was exhausted from beating a seven year old child, ironic, I reflected.

Archie was still getting his pleasure from the child's sex, "Get yer fingers out of her twat mate, less you want em broken" ......(cont)

.......Read the entire Beat-Up Day, ch 5 ....written by Singledad.
Copyright © 2007-8 Singledad. ALL Rights Reserved









This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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