Writings of the Devils Messenger Bedtime Story
- 3 years ago
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I was sitting at the bar in "The" place to be in town if you are out looking to have a good time or just hoping to get noticed by someone of the opposite sex. I would probably not normally have even been allowed into a "happening" place like this. Cool is not usually the first word that people think of to describe me.
I was here because the owner was my roommate, best friend and mentor in college. He's still a very good friend. He hired me, and the one man company I started when I graduated, to be responsible for everything that is computer related in his club. That's pretty much everything. Even the drinks are measured out and dispensed by a computer.
I was only here tonight because there had been a problem with the computers. I've been repeatedly assured by the owner, Phil, that I am welcome in the club at any time. I knew that he was sincere, even if I'm not the kind of person that's usually admitted into this exclusive, upscale, yuppie club. The thing that amused me about the entire situation was that Phil wouldn't be caught dead in a club like this if he didn't own it. He and I both prefer a quiet, neighborhood bar.
That I didn't fit in here was fine with me. I don't enjoy loud, smoke filled rooms and pretentious, desperate people trying so hard to have a good time. That's why, despite the open invitation, I never set foot in here unless there's a problem with the computers or the software.
I came over when Phil called a little while ago and I quickly straightened out a little glitch in his software. He insisted that I have a drink on him before I left. So I was sitting at the bar sipping on a cold beer, watching all of the beautiful people and being thankful that I wasn't one of them.
I was just about to leave when I noticed a woman I knew from back in college sitting with a couple of her girlfriends at a nearby table. She wouldn't have recognized me. We weren't friends. We met, or at least we shared some classes in college. She was a well known member of the in-crowd, that group of people that consisted of cheerleaders and jocks, the sophisticates, members of high society all the beautiful people.
I had no crowd. She had been a popular cheerleader and bona fide A-list member. I was just an average guy making my way through college. I was a lot more comfortable with my studies than with people.
I was not a member of any crowd. I wasn't even one of the geeks.
I don't mean to imply that I was a total spaz. I wasn't a loner. I had friends. But I wasn't much of a jock either. I played on a couple of teams in high school and college. But I was normally found tucked safely out of the way keeping the bench nice and warm.
I was a very good student, but not a nerd. My biggest problem, the one that followed me all through school, was that I lacked self confidence and the social graces. Thanks to Phil I started to come out of my shell in college. Actually, it was more like he reached in and dragged me out of my shell. He is a good guy and he has been a good friend since the day we met. I owe my current success to Phil and the way he helped me mature at school.
The reason I remembered Karen even now was that I made the mistake of asking her out one day. We had never really talked. We said hello or nodded from time to time when we ran into each other around campus. On rare but memorable occasions she would favor me with one of her dazzling smiles.
We shared some classes and she was at least aware of me. She seemed nice, though I knew in my heart that she was way out of my league. She was one of the beautiful people and she was truly, breathtakingly beautiful.
It took Phil a few weeks to undo the damage she did to my fragile ego when I asked her out and she laughed right in my face. To add insult to injury she turned to one of her girlfriends and joked loudly about the foolish thing I just did right there in class where everyone could hear her belittle me.
Don't get the wrong impression. I'm not ugly. In fact, I'm not bad looking at all. I just had a self esteem problem growing up. I have since learned that low self esteem is quite common in people in that age group. At the time it seemed like it was just me.
I probably would have gotten over that traumatic blow to my ego eventually. But with Phil's help I got over it early enough to enjoy my years in college and I have a lot of good memories from those years.
Karen is not one of them.
I graduated nearly three years ago and I still get teased about Karen by my close friends. They even go so far as to keep me up to date on her life. I was told when she became engaged to and then married Rob Stark. Recently there was a spate of jokes at my expense when Rob's National Guard unit was called to active duty and sent to Iraq. Because obviously the way was now clear for me to move in and reignite that spark of love that existed between us in college.
It was just a running joke and it didn't bother me. I have to admit, though, that deep down I have held a grudge against Karen since she belittled me so loudly in class that day. If I had the chance to take her down a peg or two I would've gotten a kick out of it.
I don't stalk her. I don't actually think about her at all except when my friends bring her up to tease me. What are friends for if not to rub your nose in one of your greatest embarrassments?
Except to avoid her I have not paid much attention to Karen since that day. I didn't particularly care that she was here now, close enough to hit with an empty beer bottle. I couldn't help noticing that she still looks very hot, though. I couldn't help watching her as fashionable, confident guys took her out to the floor and she bounced around with them in her revealing little outfit looking sexy as hell.
I saw Karen accept an offer to join a guy at a table with one of his friends. I was casually observing him when he came over to the bar to get a fresh round of drinks. I was more than a little surprised when I saw the guy put something in her drink. Now I faced a dilemma. Do I tell Karen that she is about to be drugged? It isn't like I care that much if something bad happens to her. In fact, the idea of it tickles the hell out of me.
On the other hand, I wouldn't want her getting hurt. I don't know the two guys that she's sitting with. They look like any two guys that are out cruising a club trying to get laid. The room was full of them and they were all pretty much interchangeable as far as I could tell.
I'm not sure why I didn't just finish my beer and leave. It may be that I wanted to make sure she didn't get hurt. I'm embarrassed to admit that might not be a totally honest answer. I'm afraid that the honest answer is that it was much more likely that I wanted to see her get just a little payback.
I ordered another beer and watched discreetly. I saw the difference in Karen when the roofies began to have an effect on her. I suddenly remembered the small, low light camera that I had in my little tool bag. I'm not sure why. But I took it out and took a few pictures as the guy that drugged Karen pulled her chair closer to his own and put his arm around her.
I looked over to the table that Karen had been sitting at with her girlfriends and saw that they had left without her. Karen was on her own and she was about to have a lot more of a good time than she bargained for.
I took pictures every now and then, often enough that they showed the progression as Karen came under the control of the drugs she ingested and the man that drugged her. His arm was still around her shoulders, holding her close as he talked to her.
As soon as he realized that the drugs had taken effect his hand began to rest upon, and then caress her breast. I could see from the nearly vacant look on her face that she wasn't even aware of it.
The man brought his other hand up to her chest. Slowly, gently, he began to unbutton the top few buttons of her dress until it was gaping open all the way down to several inches below her breasts. Even from my seat at the bar I could see that she wasn't wearing a bra. He confidently stuck his hand inside her dress and moved it over her breasts as if he had every right to grope her.
After enjoying the feel of her intimate flesh for several long moments he turned to his friend and appeared to joke about what he was doing. I saw him pull her dress open and show his friend her lovely breasts. He didn't even look around to see if he was being observed.
After enjoying her breasts for a few minutes his free hand moved down and reached under the table. Karen hardly reacted at all when his hand came to rest between her thighs and began to rub across the tightly stretched crotch panel of her underwear.
If I had been able to get closer and use a flash I would have gotten some really exciting shots. But the ones I was getting left very little to the imagination.
I observed the men with Karen getting ready to leave. I grabbed my tool bag and, after getting a couple of pictures of them leaving, I rushed around them and beat them out to the parking lot.
I still wasn't sure what I was going to do. I had no desire to save Karen from a "fate worse than death." I guess that what I did next would depend on what the men with Karen were going to do. If nothing else I suppose I could follow them and make sure that what befell Karen would only be a "fate worse than death" and not an actual death.
That turned out to be unnecessary. The men were guiding her, well, nearly carrying her actually, when they came out of the club. Instead of getting in a vehicle they led her around to the alley in back of the club.
I followed at a safe distance, always keeping a few parked cars between us. I took more pictures as she was undressed and then groped freely by both of the men. She stood there, swaying around on wobbly legs and let them do anything they wanted to her naked body.
It was several minutes before they bent her over a stack of empty cardboard boxes. At first they only continued to toy with her very beautiful body. They bent down behind her and spread her legs. They spread the cheeks of her ass apart obscenely. They explored her pussy and her ass, making one crude joke after another. They were pretty rough with her but they didn't seem like they were doing anything that would damage her.
They violated her that way for quite a while. They didn't seem to be in a hurry. But finally they stood up and took turns fucking her.
They tried at first to fuck her at both ends. One of them worked some saliva up into her pussy and with only that for lubrication began to fuck her violently. The other man kept trying to force his hard cock into her mouth, rubbing it all over her face and forcing it between her lips.
Either he couldn't keep her teeth off his cock, or her lack of response was less than stimulating because he eventually gave up. Still, I got some good pictures before he quit trying.
From where I was hiding to take the pictures a person who didn't already know better couldn't tell that she wasn't a willing participant. She stood on her own, although she weaved around a bit, and allowed the two young men to undress her and kiss her and feel her up. She didn't object when they pushed her over a waist high stack of boxes and took turns fucking her, twice each. Then they just pulled their pants up and walked away, leaving her in that vulnerable position in a dark alley behind a very popular nightclub.
I waited until they were gone. When she didn't move I approached her slowly. When she didn't react to my presence I took more pictures. Using my flash now I got quite a few close-ups of her dilated pussy and the small river of cum dripping out of it and running down her thighs. I helped her to stand upright and got some good full frontal pictures.
There was no denying that she was beautiful. I originally intended to leave her face out of the pictures. But she had a silly, shit eating grin on her face that made it look like she was proud of herself for what just happened. I just couldn't resist memorializing that look.
With the pictures I took inside and the ones I took in the alley I had nearly two hundred pictures. A lot of those would probably not turn out. But a lot of them would. It was a pretty dependable little camera.
I looked around for something to clean her off with. My conscience finally kicked in and I knew that I couldn't leave her here like this. But I didn't want her sitting in my car with all of that cum leaking out of her, either.
I was going to use her panties to wipe that crap off of her pussy. But I spotted a pile of old clothes near a dumpster and used a ratty old flannel shirt to wipe her crotch and her thighs clean. When she was as clean as she was going to get that way I helped her back into her underwear and her dress.
I grabbed her purse and my tool bag and helped her to my car. I tried asking her where she lived. She responded with some incomprehensible sounds. In her drugged stupor she sounded a lot like a new born. She was too far gone to tell me where she lived.
I went through her purse and found her driver's license. I found what I hoped was her current address and drove her home. The address was easy to find. It was less than a mile from my house.
When we got there I used her keys to open the door. Since her keys fit the locks I figured it was a safe bet that she lived here. I put her to bed, fully dressed, and then I started to leave.
I don't know why. I'm just nosy I guess. But before I left I started looking around. I was curious about the girl that embarrassed me so back in college. She made me the butt of a long running joke among my friends so she has had a continuing, if negligible effect on my life.
I looked around the house and noticed that there was not a single book. There were a few magazines, Cosmo, and some of the major style magazines. She kept up with fashion but those magazines were apparently the only thing that she read.
I noticed that her computer was on. Again, more from idle curiosity than anything else I moved the mouse to see what would appear when I woke it up. The desktop told me nothing. There was only the standard Microsoft desktop with only five icons. She obviously didn't spend much time online.
I checked her email and made a note of her email address. There was nothing much in her email. Most of her emails were from her girlfriends. A few were from Rob in Iraq.
I checked out her browser history. The last few sites that she visited were either about shopping for clothing, or about celebrities. All in all, Karen seems to have grown up to be a very shallow person.
I returned her computer to standby and started to get up. But at the last minute I had a sudden inspiration. I slipped a flash drive into the USB port and copied her address book. I put her computer back on standby again and quietly left.
I drove home and checked that I had no messages, no desperate cries for help from clients. I checked my own email and went to bed early. I had a little trouble falling asleep, though. Pictures of the beautiful young Karen being raped in an alley danced in my head.
The next day was Saturday. I got up early enough to have a quick breakfast and do my yard work before it got too hot. Then I went inside and got cleaned up. I poured myself a nice cold drink, sat down in the living room and did some reading, the continuing education type. In this business, you really have to keep up with advances or you get left behind quickly. I read for a couple of hours before my tool bag caught my eye and I remembered the camera.
I got up, got my camera out of the bag and took it into my computer room. I hooked it up to the computer and uploaded the pictures. Once they were all in a file I started going through them. The first ones, the pictures I took in the club, came out much better than I hoped for. They were, for the most part, clear and focused. That was an amazing feat since the camera had been in my lap the entire time and the club was pretty dark.
The pictures I took outside, though, those turned out great. I would have killed for a telephoto lens. But the zoom on the camera brought the action in close enough that there was no doubt what was happening, or to whom it was happening.
It wasn't first rate porn. But I jokingly thought to myself that they were good enough to blackmail someone with.
I realized as soon as that devious thought floated across my mind that I could, indeed, use these pictures to blackmail Karen.
That had not been my intention when I took them. I thought that I might use them to humiliate her the way that she had humiliated me. I considered posting them somewhere so that they might be spread around the net. Or I thought that I might print them off and distribute them anonymously. I was more financially secure than Karen was now and I didn't even know her husband. I didn't want her money and I certainly had no desire to hurt him.
Kaidence
- 10.09.2021
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