Chapter 13: Revenge Served Ice Cold

It was well past six in the evening when the shorter transit bus pulled up to its final stop, and let its sole remaining passenger disembark. It was a haggard-looking woman in her late thirties, she stood bent over as she stepped into the cold wind. Her clothes were worn and threadbare — but affordable selections from the Thrift Store racks. Hardly the designer fashions she had grown up with, but a far cry better than the orange and grey cotton jumpsuits she had to wear up until recently. Her drab single apartment was half a block ahead and she could already see the familiar Toyota sedan parked out front, its exhaust trailing off as the bulky silhouette of its only passenger remained inside the warm cab. She sighed with sad resignation upon recognizing him — knowing what would be expected of her for the next couple of hours. It sucked. She was exhausted from her 13-hour shift at the Amazon distribution center, and all she wanted to do was nuke something for dinner and crash. But if she didn’t keep her PO happy, he could make her life even more hellish than it was. And he pretty much controlled every aspect of her life outside the penitentiary. For the millionth time, she considered how much simpler her life was inside the women’s correctional facility that she saw off in the distance, every time she rode the bus to and from her work.

The exhaust stopped as she approached her apartment and she heard his door open and close as she worked the key in the lock. She heard his steps and could feel the pervert’s oppressive presence as he walked up behind her.

“Hello Taylor,” he said with his soft wispy voice.

“Mr. Benson,” she replied quietly as she opened her apartment door and held it for him to enter before her. It was freezing inside and dimly illuminated by the exterior windows. She flipped on the living room lights and quickly adjusted the thermostat to engage the boiler heater. She could hear the water start flowing through the radiator pipes as it kicked on. She took off her heavy coat and scarf and hung them on the hooks by the door. Her felt hat followed and she turned to accept the parole officer’s wool coat, hat, and gloves.

Frederick Benson was fifty-eight years old and stood a few inches shorter than her, though he outweighed her 143 pounds by nearly double that. He was fat, balding, and had fleshy jowls that she found disgusting and hard to overlook when she was ordered to look him in his tallowy bloodshot eyes. He wasted no time with platitudes this afternoon. He held out his pudgy hand expectantly and she obediently lifted her dress to her hips, grabbed the waistband of her panties, and slid them down her legs. She stepped out of the pair and handed them to him.

As usual, he closed his eyes, held them up to his fat bulbous nose, and sniffed deeply. He sighed with anticipation and turned so that his enormous ass rested against the back of her plain couch. He regarded her with open contempt as he nodded for her to continue the ritual. She stepped forward, dropped to her knees dejectedly, and reached up to undo his belt with mechanical motions. She relieved the strain on his pants by releasing the button and then pulled down his fly. His pale flaccid cock spilled out and presented itself like one of those ugly naked mole rats she once saw in a documentary. It was a small blessing that he was circumcised, she considered as she took its fat girth into her hand and began stroking it. It showed little sign of life as she pulled and tugged on it. Then she felt his heavy pudgy hands grab her hair and pull her face forward until she took him into her mouth and began sucking on it.

“Ugh,” he gasped, “Suck it harder,” he ordered through clenched teeth. “Ah, yes. That’s it.”

Thankfully, she hadn’t eaten yet because he pushed further into her throat, as he grew hard, and her gag reflex was not as sensitive. It was still vile tasting and sickening to her as she felt him begin thrusting his enormous belly back and forth against her face. The exploitation was an expectation she had learned to live with during her three years in prison. If she wasn’t being raped by the other inmates, she was forced to fuck her COs (both male and female) for any number of favors — sometimes a candy bar or even a Happy Meal on occasion. When she misbehaved (or was simply accused of it) she would wind up in the SCHU where they would handcuff her naked to the shower pipes and take turns on her. But at least they made a pretense at personal hygiene. Her parole officer made no such effort and could care less about his grimy body or offensive odor.

He was almost hard enough to bend her over the couch, where he would flip up her dress and bend down awkwardly to lick her pussy and anus, before fucking her doggy style. He would squeal like a pig as he came in her. Afterward, he would take her to the bedroom and make her mount him in 69 until she got him hard enough to fuck once more. Their routine was disrupted, however, when she felt a cold draft of outside air rush into the room and chill her exposed arms and legs. Did she leave the front door open?

It clicked shut from nearby and she tried to pull back against his firm grip.

“Well, isn’t this just a sweet surprise,” a bemused female voice spoke from behind her. She felt PO Benson jerk with surprise and she saw a bright flash before she suddenly pulled away from him and sat awkwardly on the floor.

“What the fucking hell?” Benson exclaimed in surprise, “Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?” he demanded angrily as he reached for his pants which had fallen to his knees.

Taylor looked back over her shoulder and gasped at the image of the woman who stood nearby. She was tall and elegant. She wore a shiny leather body suit that highlighted her muscular legs and chiseled abs; her arms were concealed by a leather riding jacket A black hood covered her face, leaving her blazing green eyes and nose exposed. She was holding a cell phone in one hand and a solid black baton in the other. To Taylor, she appeared straight out of a comic book as she stood confidently over her and regarded her PO like a predator. As she stepped forward lithely, her black leather work boots made almost no sound on the dirty linoleum tiles.

“Oh, you don’t know me,” the girl replied easily as she poked him painfully in the chest with the baton. “But I certainly know you, Freddy,” she purred, “and so many other vile pigs just like you!” Her tone became harsh and her green eyes were alive with anger.

He had frozen at her approach but her words made his face darken with rage as he renewed his efforts to pull his pants up. “You don’t know shit you little bitch!” he snarled as he straightened and made to fasten his button. “You have no idea what your...” his words cut off with a gasp and a very unmasculine squeak as the black baton was suddenly replaced by a long gleaming metal blade that he found himself staring down as it pressed painfully into his upper lip just beneath his nose. Its severe tip punctured his flesh with ease and he felt his blood running down his lip into his mouth. He tried to lean back but she followed his movement precisely. He released his pants and they fell back down his legs.

“Freddy,” she spoke with a voice that held an ominous edge, “you will have a hard time with this, but you need to understand the absolute truth about your situation.” She paused and moved closer to him, causing Talyor to scurry to the side to avoid her. “You are NOT in control here, I am,” she said as she gazed into his jaundiced eyes. “Now just shut your mouth and don’t move, and I won’t shove my darling little Musashi through your fat ugly face and into your puny brain.” She didn’t wait for him to reply. Instead, she turned and looked down at the older woman sprawled meekly on the floor at her feet.

“Are you Taylor Costas?” she asked pointedly.

The woman swallowed nervously as she looked up into the penetrating gaze. She knew that lying right now would be one of the worst mistakes she could make — and she had made her share of terrible mistakes. She nodded fearfully. “Yes,” her voice nearly failed her.

“Good,” the blue-haired girl replied cheerfully. “You are gonna be coming with me.” She turned and looked back at the stricken parole officer as he struggled to ease the painful pressure against his lip. “But first we are going to have a little fun. Be a dear and remove his shoes, would you?”

When she released the pressure from his nose, PO Benton found himself standing barefoot on the cold floor with his pants bunched around his ankles. He was petrified with shock and disbelief as the tall girl stepped back half a pace and waved the small sword at him.

“Alright then, get ‘em off,” she ordered with almost casual indifference.

He hesitated and drew a breath to reply. Her knee suddenly impacted his groin with incredible force, causing him to cry out with a painful rush of air as he folded in agony. The pain of his smashed testicles erupted in his brain and he collapsed to his knees and onto his side.

“What did I say about talking, Freddy?” she growled. She reached down and jerked his pants off of his feet and kicked him sharply in the ass. “Get up now,” she prompted, “I won’t tell you again.”

Freddy tried but the pain in his groin was crippling and all he could manage was to curl up tighter and whimper. Suddenly his thin hair was gripped in a tight fist and he cried out painfully as he felt himself being dragged across the floor. For all his weight, she pulled him almost effortlessly toward the bedroom as he kicked his legs helplessly and squealed like a piglet in terror. At the foot of the ragged second-hand bed, she pulled him to his feet and shoved him over to land on the hard mattress with a wheezy thud.

“Go fetch me his cell phone and wallet from his coat,” she ordered the frightened woman, “and that lovely scarf you were wearing.” A minute later Freddy was gagged tightly and stared up at them with wide terrified eyes.

She rifled through his wallet briefly before discarding it to the floor. She took a moment to study the Android smartphone. From another pocket, she produced her own phone and tapped it to life. After selecting an application, she held both of the phones together for a moment. The gagged PO looked on apprehensively and his eyes grew wide when his phone suddenly lit up and displayed his unlocked home screen. “You look a little nervous Freddy,” she remarked as she put her phone away and began scanning through his. “Surely you have nothing to hide. I mean — only a complete idiot would keep damning evidence so easily...” her voice faded as she opened the camera gallery and began scrolling through the images. Her facial muscles tightened and her face grew taut as her cold eyes looked at image after image.

“Oh Freddy,” she said with a pitiful tone, “you are a nasty little pervert, aren’t you?” Her body became rigid as she continued through the gallery. Seeing enough, she handed the phone over to Taylor and regarded the man with poisonous eyes. “Some of those girls look awfully young Mr. Benson,” she said casually as she stood and picked up the chair. “You like to fuck little girls, eh?” She never expected an answer as she smashed the chair against the floor, breaking it into pieces. “You remind me of my foster dad when I was growing up in the system,” she said with an ominous tone. “That sucks for you Freddy because what I am about to do to you is something I’ve dreamt of doing to him one day.” She bent and picked up one of the broken chair legs. “Don’t worry — I promise you; I won’t feel a thing.”

He didn’t have the chance to register what she had told him before she rounded on him and clubbed him hard across the face. His jaw shattered and blood sprayed across the bed as he was knocked backward onto the mattress.

Taylor screamed at the sudden assault and fell back against the wall.

“What’s the matter cupcake? Too much for your delicate senses?” Her tone was mocking. She pointed to the rickety nightstand next to the head of the bed. “Go stand there and don’t you dare look away!” she growled. The timid and terrified ex-con obeyed and gasped in horror as the black-clad assailant clubbed him once more across the face, breaking his opposite chin. His cries were muffled by the gag and he raised his arms to try and protect himself from further blows. This cost him a broken arm and several broken fingers. He resorted to curling once more into a fetal position and cried out as she pummeled him about his back, shoulders, ribs, and hips.

“Oh my God!” Taylor cried out. Her legs gave out and she collapsed onto the floor. She retched and cried out in fear as she struggled to her hands and knees, gasping for breath. The room was filled with awful smells of blood and vomit as well as urine and feces.

“That was for all those young girls you raped and tormented, you sick fucker!” She snarled as she glared down at his stricken face. “I wish I could invite every one of them here to punish you for all the things you did to them.”

He moaned pathetically and looked back up at her through one eye that wasn’t swollen shut.

She leaned over him menacingly. “I ought to cut your balls off and feed them to you,” she snarled into his stricken face. He shook his head and wept incoherently. She reached for the phone and Taylor handed it back to her. “Instead, I’m going to make sure that the right people find you here with all these incriminating pictures.” She tossed it onto the floor. “Don’t bother deleting them,” she added turning back to the older woman, “I already copied them to a friend.”

For whatever reason — Freddy felt compelled to lurch upright and grab at his wiry attacker. She didn’t even turn to face him as she struck him once more across his skull, with a backhand swing. The sound was sickening and he was driven backwards once more to collapse on the bed unconscious. Taylor screamed and fell back to the floor next to her nightstand.

“Get up!” her captor ordered sharply and she struggled to obey. As she stood on shaking legs, she tried not to look at the still figure on her bed. “Take off your dress!” Again, she obeyed without question, pulling the blood-spattered garment over her head and handing it to the girl. She covered her breasts with her arms and watched in disbelief as she used the fabric to carefully wipe the blood from her blade, coat, and gloves. The dress was then tossed onto the bloody figure. “Go put on some different clothes.”

Taylor turned to her second-hand dresser and rummaged through the drawers as the moaning grew weaker behind her. She pulled on a pair of worn tights with holes in the legs and knees and selected a mismatched turtleneck to go with it. As she slipped her arms and head through the holes, she felt the weight of the world crashing down upon her. She felt a strong hand grip her arm and turn her about.

“Take a long look, Costas,” the girl ordered, forcing her to gaze upon the quivering body of her parole officer. He was covered with horrible discolorations and bloody ichor. His puffy eye stared blankly up at the ceiling. “Your life as you know it is now over. When we leave here, this is what they will find when they finally come around to investigate your disappearance. And who do you think they will start looking for?”

She shuddered as the impact of her words sank in. “No, please,” she whimpered, “I can’t ... I didn’t do...”

“Piece of shit that he is — he’s still a cop,” the girl smirked. “They will never stop hunting for you.” She released the woman’s arm and pointed towards the door. “Let’s go.”

They stepped out of the apartment and walked across the street where a silver Porsche 718 Spyder was parked. The two-seater convertible chirped as the doors unlocked and Taylor automatically went around to climb into the passenger seat. The engine rumbled to life and in minutes they were cruising toward the interstate. The driver removed her hood and gloves and tossed them at her feet. Taylor was surprised to find the young woman barely in her twenties — if that. Her hair was bright blue and trimmed close, forming a single band that lined the center of her scalp. She was beautiful and frightening at the same time.

“Can ... can I ask a question?” she asked meekly as she watched the city disappear behind them.

“Of course. It’s a free country,” the blue-haired driver replied with a thin smile.

“Who ... are you? And why are you doing this?” she blurted fearfully, “where are you taking me?”

“My name is not important,” she replied, “and you are going to face the person you were responsible for wrongly incarcerating. He is not a very understanding sort, so when you meet him...” she regarded her companion with a grim smile. “I’d choose my words carefully.” They continued in silence for a while.

“We have a long drive ahead and we will have to stop for food. We will also be staying in a hotel tonight. I expect you to act normal when we are in public. As long as you do what is expected of you, everything will be cool.” She glanced over at her passenger and regarded her with a penetrating gaze. “You have an idea of what I am capable of, so you don’t want to piss me off.”

For her part, Taylor just sank further into her seat and shivered.

They had traveled almost 300 miles by the time Trinity pulled into a Westin and handed the fob to the baby-faced valet. His eyes lit up when he saw the car, completely ignoring the gorgeous mohawk chick driving it. She sighed heavily as she handed him a $100 bill. “Don’t scratch it dude, or I’m dead. And if I’m dead I’m gonna hunt you down and make you more dead. Capiche?” she growled.

“Uh huh,” was all she got back before turning to lead the taciturn Taylor into the hotel. When they got to their room, she found a single King-sized bed and luxurious bathroom. Trinity set her bag on the bed and pointed to the bathroom.

“Give me your clothes and go start a bath,” she instructed. “I’m gonna order us some dinner. I’ll join you shortly.”

Taylor stood before her uncertainly, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

Trinity moved over to stand nose to nose with her. “This is where you fucking obey me without question, got it? Get naked right fucking now!” she growled.

Shaken the older woman lifted her turtleneck and pulled it over her head. She blushed when she found the other girl gazing at her breasts with a discerning eye. She started to cross her arms when she felt those intense eyes burning into her mind. She handed over the sweater and kicked off her shoes before peeling the old leggings off her hips and down her legs. She was acutely aware of the intense scrutiny she was getting. After the last several years she was quite used to being exploited, ogled, and abused — but something about the way Trinity looked at her made her feel like something akin to property.

She was thin and boney and you could see her ribs when she sucked in her belly. But her breasts were full and her once world-class ass and hips were still round if less filled. A thin patch of blonde hair covered her mons in an ungroomed mat. She self-consciously reached across and grabbed her other arm, resisting the urge to cover her pussy. Her captor walked around her slowly as if she were inspecting a racehorse. She gasped when her breast was grabbed and squeezed and jumped when her ass was similarly groped and swatted.