Date: Sat, 5 May 2012 08:46:07 +0200
From: Amy Redek <adultreading@gmail.com>
Subject: Vigilante. Part Five.

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

            Part Five

   With four other jobs in the pipeline, we both gave our notice in to the
estate agency and they were most unhappy to accept them. They understood
our reasons for leaving as that we were two young girls who sought more
than sitting in an office and not really getting to see life and better
ourselves. We had a party in the local pub and left on the best of terms.

   We had the equivalent of just over a year's wages in the bank and the
promise of much more to come plus that we could now relax and enjoy
ourselves. We had a two months holiday just touring around England,
stopping at any place that took our fancy and enjoying each other in bed at
night. The fact that I killed one man who groped Lucy rather blatantly and
obscenely during our trip, didn't spoil the pleasure we had from our extra
holiday as we called it.

   The scenery had been perfect, those two breasts of Lucy above my face as
each one in turn came down for me to suck on the nipple of each hill. Then
there was her valley, wide and open that was sparsely covered at the end
that held promises of delight of which I sampled. The slow exploration of
the countryside as it lay before me was much better than looking at a map,
but I followed the contours with my fingers first going up and then down to
trace the lines towards my ultimate goal.

   She too enjoyed it as much as I did and it was a happy pair that finally
returned to London and then it was, well not back to work, but more to see
what prospects we had ahead of us.

   The one I picked first was what I called the Italian job, but please
don't confuse this with some film of the same name. We went skiing for the
first time and thoroughly enjoyed it. As being first timers we went with an
instructor who was much taken with the two salient points that I had, but
he didn't score. The one who thought he had, we buried him in the snow and
they didn't find him for three months. The fact that he had gone missing
didn't stop the rest of the party from enjoying themselves, the least of
them being Lucy and myself when we got to bed after the event.

   That our man had made a point of having me as his next target or
conquest, I didn't find out, but he did manage to steer my inept handling
of the skis into the tree line and he actually had me down on my back in
the snow as he pawed at my breasts before Lucy's ski stick stabbed him in
the back of the neck which severed the spinal cord, killing him
instantly. We buried him there in the snow and said that we knew nothing of
where he could have got to. Lucy was like a little tiger that night in bed
and wished she do more of the killing if she was going to be like this
every time.

   Then it was back to England ten thousand pounds richer because I claimed
expenses on this one for, I can't really call it a rest for we'd just had a
holiday, but it was nice to be back in our own bed together again where we
kissed and stroked each other.

   `I really love these breasts of yours,' Lucy said running her hand up
and over them, rubbing the nipple in her palm.

   `I love yours,' I replied kissing and doing the same to her before I
turned round so that we could both tip the velvet at the same time. For
that week, I think we spent more time in bed than out of it but there were
still chores to do. Shopping for food, the cooking of it and then there was
the washing of clothes, so we finally had to get up and with reluctance,
get dressed.

   With the shopping, we also bought both national and local papers and
they made dismal reading. On every other page there was a report of either
a kidnapping, mugging, rape case or a story of a missing child. It was the
rape case that drew my attention because the man had already served time
for a similar offence and this time he had got off on a technicality. There
was a picture of him smiling, a broad cocky grin that seemed to be directed
at the picture next to his of the girl's father in tears that this man had
got away with it.

   `Lucy,' I said, passing the newspaper across to her. `I'm going to do
something about this man. Want to help?' As she was reading of the case,
her head began to slowly nod, and so I began to make plans.

   We knew his name, one Edward Drew, we had a picture of him and knew that
he owned a motor repair shop and that he lived in Birmingham. It was enough
and it shouldn't take long to find him so a couple of days later, we set
off to hunt down this Edward Drew, mechanic by trade, rapist by
inclination.

   It was late morning when we stopped just outside the city at a petrol
station to fill up and buy a city map and check in the yellow pages and
found him under garages, with the address and phone number. I'd driven up
from London and now I let Lucy drive so that I could check the map and do
the navigating and it didn't take long to find his small workshop. We drove
slowly past it and was pleased to see that it was a one man band outfit at
the end of a row of similar repair shops. With the place pinpointed, we
drove on to find some shops that had a café where we had a late lunch. I
also went into a couple of shops where I bought a plastic raincoat, one of
those that folded up very small and had its own little pouch. Also in a
chemist, I bought a couple of pairs of the thin surgical gloves which I
knew we would need.

   On the way to the garage, I told Lucy what to do as I distracted him and
then I would take over from there, and we pulled up outside at about half
past four. Before I got out of the car, I took my bra off from under my
blouse and also my coat and then we went into the workshop. There were two
cars in there and I could see a pair of legs protruding out from beneath
one of them. I gave a leg a poke with the toe of my boot and looked around
as he came out from underneath. I noticed that the workbench at the back
wall was cluttered with bits of cars and a variety of tools. The one that
caught my eye was a large wrench which I indicated to Lucy as I moved
towards the bench as Edward Drew came out from under the car he was working
on.

   It was him from the newspaper photo alright and I was pleased that he
was here alone.

   `Well, what have we got here,' he said looking up and I think only just
able to see my face above my breasts that must have looked huge from the
angle he was at. He got up and wiped his hands on a scrap of cloth from his
pocket as he came closer to where I stopped by the bench.

   `I understand you strip engines and service cars. Is that all you
service?' I asked with a smile. His in return was more of a lascivious
smirk instead of a smile as I leaned back to make my breasts strain against
the front of my blouse, knowing that my nipples were hard and very
prominent.

   `I service anything that moves,' he grinned and he was now facing me
with Lucy behind him. I kept my eyes on his but could still see her pick up
the wrench I had indicated and bring it down onto the back of his head. It
was a nice heavy thud as it landed and I watched his eyes roll up to show
the whites as he folded up and fell to the floor.

   `Put your gloves on and get some tape,' I told Lucy as I put on mine and
straightened him out on the floor and when she passed me a roll, I then
taped his two hands together above his head. `Get his shoes and socks off,'
I said as I went over to one of those hanging chains that is on pulley
wheels and have ratchets for lifting engines up out of cars. `Now tape his
ankles together,' I told her as I worked out how to pull the chains to get
the hook down and then I managed to get this hook under the tape between
his hands and began to pull the chain till it was taut.

   `Now a bit of cloth in his mouth and then tape it in.'

   `What are we going to do then?' Lucy asked.

   `You'll see,' as I took my knife from its sheath and cut his shirt
off. `Wipe the handle of that wrench on a cloth and throw it in amongst the
other tools,' I told her as I began to pull on the chain that slowly began
to lift him up off the floor. When I had him fully upright I then, with
some wire, anchored the strips of tape round his ankles to the floor and
then pulled a bit more on the chain so that he was fully strained in the
upright position without his feet touching the ground.

   I then got the plastic mac out of its pouch and put it on before getting
a can of water and throwing it up to his face to bring him round and this
did the trick. His eyes came open and he shook his head to clear them of
water and he stared down wildly at me as he started to struggle but found
it strained his arms and obviously hurt to do this, so he stopped moving.

   `What are we going to do with him,' Lucy asked.

   `He's wondering the same thing, aren't you Mister Drew?' I said as I
opened my blouse so that he could see my breasts. I tucked the ends into
the waistband of my skirt so that they were free to move about as I
moved. I raised them up for him to see before letting them drop and swing
before I did up the front of the plastic mac but for him to still be able
to see them. I moved in close and undid his belt and pulled it free from
the loops, dropping it to the floor as I pulled my knife out and his eyes
went wider still as he felt me cut off his trousers and underpants so that
was then hanging there completely naked. His penis looked small and
shrivelled in fear and even the sight of my breasts couldn't raise it, mind
you, having him feel the tip of the knife blade lifting the thing up didn't
help.

   `You're not going to do what I think you are going to do, Are you?' Lucy
asked in an awed voice.

   `Yes, but not with my knife,' I said as I turned to the bench and picked
up a small hacksaw. When I turned round and he saw what I had in my hand,
he began to struggle violently but to no avail, he was tightly strung up
ready for the sacrifice.

   `I don't think I can watch this,' Lucy said, her face going white as I
approached the suspended man. His face was white too as he struggled, sweat
pouring down his face and chest.

   `Then don't watch,' I said to her. `You've picked on one girl too many,'
I said to Drew. `Now you are going to pay the price.'

   I took hold of his penis and balls, the whole scrotum, and pulled the
lot taut towards me and he then shat himself as I drew the hacksaw across
the top with force, the blade sawing its way through the flesh and
muscle. Blood spurted out as I heard the muffled scream and his torso
arched as it strained against the pain and mutilation that was taking
place. He passed out as I cut the lot free from his body and threw it onto
the bench, his body a big bloody mess where his genitals had been. Blood
and shit ran down his legs as his body twitched in its pain though he
didn't feel it any more.

   I went over to where the sink was and took off the mac and put it under
the running water and also rinsed the gloves at the same time. Then I put
the lot in a plastic bag and went over to where Lucy was standing, her face
still white as she looked at the hanging man and the bloody mess between
his legs, the blood still pumping out.

   `I feel sick,' she moaned.

   `Well don't do it here. Hold on.' I gave her the plastic bag as I did up
my blouse and went and checked that no one was outside. `Quick. Let's
go. Pull this door closed behind us, you're still wearing gloves.'

   As Lucy pulled the sliding door shut, I got in the car and started
it. She quickly scuttled across and got in the passenger seat and I drove
off and when we were a mile away at least, I pulled the car over and told
her to get out and be sick if she still wanted to throw up. She didn't
then, but she did when we got back home just after eleven that night. We
had our showers and were soon in bed, she hadn't wanted dinner.

   `Sometimes you frighten me,' she said as I held her in my arms to try
and stop her shivering.

   `He deserved it,' I replied.

   `But not like that. It was horrible.'

   `How do you think a girl feels when she's threatened with a knife before
he sticks himself into her? Or the child that is taken away to be fucked or
sodomized before being throttled and buried, sometimes still alive? I only
wish that they would publish the picture they will take of him so that
people like him can see what might happen to them if they take advantage of
another girl or child. That would do more good than all the posters and
advice that the do-gooders give out.'

   But I think I did go too far judging by the public outcry a few days
later. He had been found the next day by one of his customers, but before
the police could get there, some enterprising people had already taken
photographs and trampled the crime scene that really annoyed the law
men. The only photo that the newspapers published, no doubt paying good
money to obtain them, was of a back view of his naked body hanging there in
his workshop. No doubt they had front pictures too, but I think they would
have been too gruesome for the reading public at the breakfast table. This
was on the front page of one of the tabloids with a screaming headline of
`Butchery!' I was bloody annoyed that they played down the fact that he was
a convicted rapist and had only just escaped another prison sentence. The
one unfortunate person of our escapade was the father of his last victim,
the man whose picture I had seen crying outside of the court. He was
immediately taken into custody and I was thankful that he had a cast iron
alibi for the whole of that day and evening, but the newspapers still threw
in, obliquely of course, that he might have paid someone to do it for him.

   It was Sod's law of course that there wasn't much going on in the
country or abroad, so this savage brutal murder as they called it, stayed
on the front pages for several days, calling for a nationwide hunt for the
killer.

   I later learned that because he had been a rapist, his death became
linked with other such deaths and those of known muggers and child
molesters.

   I must say that the newspapers did keep me up with a lot of what was
going on. For example, after a complete investigation of the area, the
interviewing of hundreds of people and shops that they issued a notice that
they were now looking for two women aged between eighteen and thirty to
help them in their enquiries.

   Lucy was shaken when she read this and I had to make a joke of it by
asking which one was she, the eighteen year old or the one of thirty. It
didn't go down very well and I had to take special care of her that night
in bed, giving her the best that I could.

   Of course this eventually left the front pages as other items of news
took over and when it didn't even get a mention, she seemed a bit more
happier. What I didn't know was that this Birmingham killing had now been
linked with what I had done in the past down here in London on my own
patch. I later also saw what a police psychiatrist had written as a profile
of this killer.

   It, the killer, was undoubtedly a female who had suffered abuse, most
probably sexual, at an early age by an older member of the family, uncle,
father or step-father as it would seem that there wasn't another female in
the household. It being a female is demonstrated by the fact that all known
people who have been murdered or killed by one means or another, have all
been mostly male. Many of whom were known to have and or had been,
convicted of either rape or attacks for theft, read that as mugging, of
women. Age would be early twenties and not unattractive and have the
qualities to attract the victims willingly to their demise.

   With the above facts, the author is quite confident that this person is
also now a lesbian having a pathological hatred of men, so to the summary
conclusion. You are looking for a female aged in the early to mid twenties,
a lesbian who, having Birmingham in mind, is co-habituating with another
female somewhere in the region of South London.

   Bloody Freud for putting such thoughts into people's minds for this
report was one hundred per cent accurate, but I didn't know this at the
time, and thank heaven, neither did Lucy.

   Lucy. My dear lovely Lucy, begged me to stop after Birmingham and the
furore we had caused, but, stubborn me couldn't, or should I say, would
not. Where I saw injustice being done to others, I couldn't stop myself
from taking up arms to protect them. Over the next six months, another two
known muggers died in mysterious circumstances in our area, and though the
local press tried to stir up condemnation, the letters it kept receiving
were in praise of this vigilante who was doing what the police and the
courts had been failing to do.

   The police had to answer this by saying that they were the law and it
was against this law that this vigilante must stop because he, or she, was
going against the very concept of justice. This was met with much jeering
at their idea of justice when people were afraid to go out of doors because
when they did catch anyone, which was very rare, all that was given was a
slapped wrist. No! The people were all for this vigilante, but then the
authorities got at the local newspaper after it had printed these letters
and that was the end of further publication in praise of me. I say me
because it was I that was this vigilante.

   I had the satisfaction of now seeing children playing out in the street
and old people going to collect their pension and getting home with it
intact, in both money and themselves. I heard nothing but praise as I
talked to my neighbours at how they now felt safer than they ever had
before, and that robbery was now almost nonexistent in our locality.

   My fault was one of pride. I prided myself that I had the most beautiful
girl of the neighbourhood as my lover. I took pride in the fact that those
that I lived among could walk the streets without fear. I was proud that I
could take on the most vicious of men and come out triumphant. I was too
proud to think that I was above the law.

   It was noted that the girl with the biggest tits in London, also had the
most beautiful girl always on her arm. That men were spurned by both of
them and became whispered about that I was the vigilante. It was Lucy who
noticed first at the amount of deference that began to be shown to us, and
not being ashamed, was quite pleased to be with the biggest tits of
London. That she showed me deference didn't go un-noticed though I hadn't
seen that. We began to get the odd person come up to us when we were having
a drink in the pub and tell us of a problem, mostly women. But the funniest
one was when a mousy man sat down, after apologetically asking if he could
do so before asking us if we could do him a favour.

   We now found ourselves working for the other side, because I later took
this man's wife to one side and said that if she didn't start treating him
to the respect that he deserved as being her husband, she might have
problems that might be related in the future. Six weeks later, that same
man came and almost went down on his knees to thank us.

   Then it hit me that I was like a fucking Godmother! I hadn't given much
thought to the small problems that we were constantly being asked to help
out with and what we actually achieved by doing so, but we had. When
anybody asked us for help, we gave it without thought of favour or
return. We felt it was our duty to those that lived with and around us.

   It really struck home when I was shopping and stopped to buy some
oranges and when I asked him how much, he waved it away. I thanked him and
as I turned back to the street, that was when it hit me and I then had
visions of a car stopping at the corner and two men coming at me, firing
their guns and the bullets thudding into my body.

   I was shaking from fear and at the same time with exultation that wasn't
warranted as I stepped out on shaking legs into the street, to be greeted
by smiles and not pistols. I did, for the first time that I can recollect,
throw up into the toilet when I got home. I didn't know why nor can I
explain it, but sick I was. I washed my face as well as rinsing and
cleaning out my mouth before I made up my face again. I put on my most
sexiest of nightwear and as soon as Lucy came in, kissed her and dragged
her into bed.

   `Love me Lucy, love me,' I begged of her and had the pleasure of,
without question, her sucking and caressing my breasts. To kiss me all the
way down across my stomach and delve into my inner parts and give me the
thrill of the release of the tensions and strains that had built up inside
me. It was only after I had done the same to her did I come up to the
pillow and smother her with kisses and say all the things a lover does to
her partner.

   `How do you love the Godmother?' I asked of her. When she asked what did
I mean, I told her of what happened and then of all the little things that
we had been experiencing for some time now before she understood, and then
I got an extra helping.

   `God I love you Sally, or should I say Godmother?' she asked with a wet
smile. I loved that face and took great pleasure in kissing that wet mouth
that had a taste of myself.

   `I love you too,' I truthfully said as I lost myself in her love.

   As I said, the muggings had gone down to almost zero in our
neighbourhood and we were treated with respect and sometimes with downright
reverence wherever we went, and this, unfortunately, hadn't gone un-noticed
by outsiders.

   We went away on holiday, as we told them, and were nicely received when
we got back. The fact that I had killed a man while we were away wasn't
noticed by the locals, but it had been by the authorities which gave them
more than enough to come one night to arrest us.

                                                       *