THE WOMEN OF WROAR

THE WOMEN OF WROAR

Women’s Revenge by Overpowering Abusers and Rapists (WROAR) were keeping a close watch on Samuel Smyth..  The women of WROAR had received reports on him. claiming he had violently abused and raped women.  The police also were aware of Smyth’s activities, but unfortunately, none of his victims could positively identify him.  He was very clever: leaving no DNA evidence and wearing a mask so the women never saw his face nor heard his voice.  Also, unfortunately, the police did not have the resources to keep tabs on a perp like Smyth, given the level of crime in the city.  So, the job of administering rough justice fell to vigilante groups like WROAR. 

Naturally, the official police policy was opposed to citizens taking the law into their own hands, but unofficially, they turned a blind eye because they were so under-resourced, that they, needed these groups to help deal with the ramped crime problem.  As long as WROAR did not cause any problems or draw attention to themselves, the police didn’t care.  In fact, there was a tacit cooperation between the two.  For example, if, while dealing with women’s rape and abuse, WROAR came across a more serious crime such as murder, they immediately contacted the police and gave them all their information  Similarly, if a beat cop or detective working a robbery or drug case came across situations of women abuse or rape, they might inform a member of WROAR.

Smyth was one such case and Carlotta Stevens had been assigned to investigate.  She and her team of Stephanie  and Tiffany had planted tracking devices on his car and placed surveillance equipment in his apartment.  Carlotta and her team had searched his apartment and found the masks he wore when he raped his victims and now, they were just waiting for him to strike again and catch him in the act. 

They had followed Smyth to a bar in the business district, and while Stephanie waited in the communications van outside, Carlotta and Tiffany were inside the bar.  As Carlotta and Tiffany appeared to be chatting about work and boyfriends, they both were, in their own way, thinking about how they were going to deal with Smyth once they captured him.  Essentially, Smyth would disappear from the face of the earth, never to be heard from or seen again.  Once he entered the walls of the WROAR compound, it would be as though he never existed.  All bank records, credit cards, social security, driver’s license, insurance and assets would be closed or liquidated.  Even if the impossible should happen and by some miracle or oversight, Smyth managed to escape, he would escape into a world in which he did not legally exist.  He would be a nonentity. 

After about 45 minutes, Smyth headed to the street.  Carlotta mused that this would be the last time he would have a drink in his pathetic miserable life.

Carlotta and Tiffany remained seated until Smyth left, then she pulled her smart phone and called Stephanie..  “He just left.”

“I see him…  He’s heading to his car.” Stephanie responded

“Ok, we’re leaving now.  We’ll be right behind you.”

With the GPS device mounted on Smyth’s car, Stephanie had no problem picking up his trail.  With a similar tracker in her car, Carlotta and Tiffany could also follow Smyth.

They followed him from a safe distance, so he had no idea of being followed.  He was cruising down by the wharf district where prostitutes picked up sailors.  After a few minutes, they noticed he had stopped.  Carlotta and Stephanie were on the phone agreeing that he was now stalking on foot. 

They pulled up to his car and saw that it was empty.  They parked in front and behind him, bumper to bumper, so he couldn’t escape if they missed him.  Stephanie would stay with the van while Tiffany and Carlotta would look for Smyth.  They saw a figure a block away and little bit further on they saw woman walking.  They followed Smyth and the woman for a block as Smyth drew closer to the woman.  Then, she must have realized she was being followed and began to run.  But in her high heels, she couldn’t run very fast, and Smyth quickly caught up to her.  He grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth stifling her scream.  He then dragged her into a dark alley.

Carlotta and Tiffany observed all this.  They dawned masks.  Wearing rubber soled boots. they noiselessly ran up to where Smyth had grabbed the woman.  They heard sounds of struggling and followed the sounds.  They saw Smyth on top of the woman with his pants down and the woman’s dress ripped and tape over her mouth. 

“Look what we have here…” Carlotta chortled.  “Mr. Smyth caught with his pants down.”  Smyth jumped up, eyes bulging.  Carlotta shown a bright light in his eyes.  He was momentarily blinded.  With an almost imperceptible movement, Tiffany fired her laser squarely into Smyth’s chest and she let a five second burst of 75,000 volts flow into his body.  He screamed. His body shook from the electric charge and then collapsed in heap when Tiffany released the trigger.

After helping the woman, Carlotta and Tiffany zip tied Smyth’s hands and called Stephanie to bring the van.  Then she injected Smyth with a sedative to make him more docile. 

Once in the van and on their way to the compound, Carlotta cut off Smyth’s clothes and placed the shreds along with his identification in a bag to be burned.  She put the cash from his wallet in her purse.  Then turning her attention to Smyth who was still unconscious, she stuffed his mouth with cotton baton and wound duct tape several times around his mouth and eyes leaving only his nose exposed.   Next, she shackled his ankles and bent them back up towards his wrists and linked the two, so he was now in a hog-tie position. 

They drove through the gates of the compound that opened after Stephanie punched in the entry code.  Tiffany followed in the second car. 

In the courtyard, three women had gathered to meet the arriving crew.  They threw open the van’s back doors and grabbing Smyth by the link connecting his ankles and wrists.   Angelina—the warden of the WROAR and chief torturer--carried him like a duffle bag.  By this time, the tranquilizer was wearing off and when Angelina picked him up, he let out a scream of pain as the zip ties cut into his wrists and ankles.  But the heavy gagging, only allowed soft moans.  He also squirmed in a futile effort to shake himself free.   Angelina simply ignored the moans and the wriggling.  She was powerfully built and carried him with one hand.  

She carried him down to one of the many underground rooms and unceremoniously dumped him on the cold cement floor.  When he crashed to the floor, he let out a high-pitched muffled squeal.  Angelina gave him a quick imperious glance and turned on her heels.  The last thing Smyth would hear for the next few hours were Angelina’s spike boot heals clicking on the cement floor, the clang of the heavy steel door slamming shut behind her and the lock being turned. 

Smyth couldn’t tell that the cell was lit, and he was being observed on CCTV.  It was lit but it wasn’t heated, and the temperature was 50 F.  Being stark naked, every inch of his body was shivering.  But that’s all the movement his hog-tie bondage permitted.  He needed to stretch his arms and legs, but the tied were implacable.  He screamed at the top of his longs, but the cotton in his mouth covered by several layers of duct tape only permitted a muted moan to escape.  And those observing him didn’t care how much or how loud he yelled.  He desperately needed to relieve himself and finally he couldn’t hold it anymore.   He continued to strain against the zip ties with all his strength, trembling with rage and frustration until he was exhausted.

At some point he must have dozed off, because suddenly he awoke with a scream as he felt a piercing pain in his balls.  Carlotta had entered the cell and had stomped on Smyth’s balls with the cleated boot.  She now stood with her boot on his scrotum as he let out a high-pitched moan and tried to wriggle away.  But of course, her boot pinned him to the spot and his hog-tied arms and legs just waived helplessly in the air. Carlotta smiled and ground her boot into his balls as though she were crushing a cigarette butt, which made him shriek louder and waive his arms and legs faster.  

Carlotta laughed, and after relishing in Smyth’s agony for a couple of minutes, she lifted the boot off the now swollen and bright red ball sack.  Smyth flopped over on his right side, panting heavily.  Seeing his belly exposed, Carlotta couldn’t resist giving him a hard kick to the gut.  Air escaped through the gag with a grunt, and if he could have, he would have doubled over, but his legs and hands tied behind him prevented that.  Carlotta could see tears streaming down his face oozing out from under the duct tape around his eyes. 

Taking a pair of sheers, Carlotta knelt down over Smyth’s head and sliding one of the blades along the bridge of his nose, near his left eye, Carlotta began cutting the duct tape covering his eyes.  When she had cut all the way through, she grabbed one end, and with a vicious pull, yanked the several layers of tape off his face, ripping large clumps of hair from his scalp that were caught on the tape like flies on fly paper.  Again, Smyth let out an agonizing shriek of pain.

Smyth blinked several times as he adjusted to the sudden exposure to the bright light in the cell.  Carlotta could see that his eyes were bloodshot.  Grabbing his hair, Carlotta forced him to look up at her.  Smyth made unrecognizable “mmmmmm”  sounds which Carlotta figured were supposed to be “who the fuck are you and where am I?”

“Do you know who you are?” Carlotta asked coldly. 

“mmmm  mmmmm” Smyth replied.  Carlotta couldn’t know if he was saying his name or “fuck you.”

“I’ll tell you who you are…. You are “turd 2009-45,” or “turd 45” for short.  That’s right, you are the forty fifth piece of shit we’ve dealt with this year, and since it’s almost the end of the year, you will probably have the honor of being the last turd for this year.  

Smyth, with his eyes popping out of his head stared at Carlotta in complete bewilderment.  He simply couldn’t comprehend whom this woman was telling this stuff or what was going to happen to him and how could he escape.  “This must be a bad dream and I’ll wake up soon” he thought to himself.  “This can’t really be happening…this woman is nuts” he kept thinking.

Carlotta kept her eyes fixed on his as she spoke.  “You can’t believe this is happening to you.  You can’t believe you are here, in this room, hog tied and gagged and every joint, muscle and balls in agony, lying in your own piss and being spoken to by a sadistic bitch…CAN YOU?  Well believe it turd.  You are here and this is only the beginning of your life-long punishment.  You are my prisoner, and the sentence is a life sentence of utter torture and suffering for as long as you live.  And I am sure, very soon you will wish you were dead, but death will not come easy.  You must pay for your crimes against women and as they say, ‘paybacks are hell,’ and this is the closest thing to hell for you on this earth.”

Smyth was slowly getting the picture.   This was no dream.  This was real and every bone and muscle ached from the long hours of restraint, and he could smell his urine, and his balls burned horribly and the slightest movement was agony.  He was now terrified, and tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was shaking uncontrollably.

Carlotta rose and looked at Smyth contemplatively.  She, then, let go a smashing soccer kick to the stomach.  Smyth screamed as loud as he could and tried to roll over to protect his stomach, but it hurt too much.  He just lay on his side shaking on the edge of consciousness.  He was vaguely aware of Carlotta walking past him as his tear-filled eyes followed her boots to the door and then hearing the door open and slam shut.  In complete despair, Smyth began sobbing and pulled as hard as his feeble strength allowed against his restraints.

Being totally exhausted, Smyth again fell asleep until he felt something hard pressing down on his face.  He opened his eyes and tried looking up in the direction of whatever was pressing on his face.  Angelina’s boot pinned his head to the floor.  He could see a shiny heavy-soled spike-heeled boot.  All Smyth could do is moan.

Smyth couldn’t see the taser Angelina held in her right hand, which she now fired into Smyth’s prone body.  He screamed as the powerful electric blasted surged through every nerve in his helpless body causing his body to jerk uncontrollably.  Angelina giggled as she watched Smyth’s body shook violently and his muscles spasmed.  She released the trigger after five seconds and took her boot off his face.  She then picked Smyth up by the links holding his wrists and ankles as she had when she brought him into the room and carried him to what would become his new permanent home. 

When Smyth opened his eyes, some minutes later, he found himself in a sitting position.  As he tried to move, he immediately discovered that he was strapped securely to a very uncomfortable, cold metal chair.  The chair’s seating surface, arms rests, and legs were covered with metal studs which did not cut the skin, but made sitting exceedingly uncomfortable, especially if you had to sit on it for more than 15 minutes.  The chair had a high back that extended a foot above Smyth’s head, and where the seat bottom could be undone, leaving the prisoner’s genitals exposed.    Three stainless straps ran across his chest starting just below his nipples and the third one around his waist just above his cock.  The straps were arms of comparable to handcuffs.  They were hinged on the right side of the chair and folded over and were inserted into a locking device on the left side.  Like handcuffs, the straps clicked into the locks and when pushed into the locks, they could only be unlocked with a key. 

 Suddenly Angela’s face loomed in front of Smyth’s face “I am Angelina. Welcome to your new home, turd.”  She said in a gravelly, smoker’s voice.  “ I am in charge here. You and this chair are about to become bosom buddies.  This chair is modeled after a medieval chair used to torture heretics and criminals.  You are being held here until we decide you no longer pose a danger to women.  We have obliterated all records of your existence and liquidated all your assets.  As far as the world outside these walls knows, you don’t exist.  When you are released, we will provide shelter and food.    Keep in mind, you will have nothing to prove who you are.  You will be given the choice when you are released to use our accomodations, or beg on the street.  If you decide to go out on your own, that will be final.  There is no turning back.

“Now, while you are here, you will be locked into this chair for eight hours a day.  The bottom of the chair can be dropped, exposing your genitals.  Guards are free to come and go, as they please, and avail themselves of your genitals, as they please.  This means, they can pound your balls, anyway, they choose.  Who, knows.  If you have a good cock, they may use it in other ways I’ll leave to your imagination.

“After you do your eight hours, it’s free time.  Guards can use you any way they like.  This can be, gang rape, or individual rape sessions. Also, a guard may take you out in the court yard and whip you.  We also have a room set up for electrics, which some of the guards, especially enjoy using.  And since I am in charge of torture, I may come up with some experiments to try out.  Any questions?”

Angelina smirked as she asked this question.

Smyth shook and pressed against his restraints and let out a scream, but it only came out as a loud high-pitched moan.

“That’s quite OK….” Angelina laughed.  “You can thank me later.”

Angelina reached over to a table that stood at arm’s length and at waist high.  It held a number of gleaming instruments which Smyth now eyed apprehensively.  Smyth mumbled something in an anxious tone.  Angelina held up a pair of scissors.  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to cut off your balls…yet.” She laughed as Smyth’s eyes clearly showed the terror he was feeling. 

She slid the scissors blade between Smyth’s chin and the tape holding his gag in his mouth.  She deftly moved the blade up toward Smyth’s nose just missing it by millimeters.  Pulling the tape off violently Smyth was momentarily stunned by the speed and pain that followed the ripping of the tape off his skin.

Before he could come to his senses and utter a word, Angelina took a small pair of vice grips and place them on his testicles.  When she snapped them closed, Smyth let out a blood-curdling scream.  With another deft movement of her hands, Angelina inserted a Whitehead gag into his mouth and set the ratchet to lock his mouth open.

“You won’t be needing your mouth after today so I’m going to seal it up.”  This brought loud screams from Smyth and violent shaking as he tried to escape.  Angelina merely looked at him curiously and laughed at his pitiable efforts.

“Not to worry love.  You’ll be fed.  I’m going to put a tube down your nose that will pass down into your stomach.  After all we don’t want to kill you—at least not just yet.  We want to have some fun with you, and for that we have to keep you alive.

Angelina picked an item off the tray.  It was in the shape of a wafer, about inch thick, and about an inch in diameter surrounded by a thin wire that extended out about six inches.  Angelina held it by the wire and carefully placed it on Smyth’s tongue.   

“Your saliva will cause the wafer to expand to fill your entire mouth, pushing your cheeks out so you will look like a squirrel with cheeks full of nuts.  You’ll look very cute.  Believe me.” Angelina said smiling as she bent close to Smyth’s face and watched the wafer begin to grow.  Then suddenly she yanked the Whitehead gag out of Smyth’s mouth.  He instinctively closed his mouth and Angelina, without wasting a movement, slapped two pieces of duct tape on his mouth thereby sealing it. 

“You can feel it filling your mouth and when it has reached its maximum, it will harden so it will be like stone.  The only way to take it out will be to drill it out.  I don’t think you will like that, so we will leave it there for whatever.” Angelina cooed as she stood with her face inches away from Smyth’s.  She giggled as Smyth’s cheeks pushed out.  “You really look like a squirrel.” 

Angelina bent over Smyth and adjusted another metal strap, so it was lined up with his throat by setting a setscrew in  back of the chair.  When it was at the proper height, she swung the strap and clicked it into the lock and pressed it against Smyth’s throat.  The strap was sculpted to it fit under Smyth’s chin and rose slightly under his ears, forcing him to face straight ahead.   Next, she adjusted a metal strap, so it lined up with Smyth’s forehead and then sung it closed, clicking into place further preventing any head movement. 

“There you go…. Your head is now locked into place.  I like the way it looks.  I could really slap you hard and there is nothing you can do.”  And with that Angelina slapped Smyth’s cheek as hard as she could.  His face didn’t move an inch, but Angelina forgot that Smyth’s mouth now was as hard as rock.  The slap left a bright red mark on Smyth’s left cheek but the blow left Angelina’s right hand smarting.  “I forgot you have a rock in your mouth now.”  Angelina spat out as she shook her hand.  She looked at Smyth and thought his eyes conveyed a certain satisfaction, but she couldn’t be sure.

“I may have hurt my hand, but now you are going to really hurt for a good long time.” Angelina muttered.

“Voila!  You are done.  This will be how you will spend the rest of your life.”  Angelina smiling broadly.  Smyth looked at the joyful Angelina with an utterly dejected look of misery eyes full of tears.

Angelina, completely satisfied, bent over Smyth, gave him a wet kiss on his forehead and left a ruby red indelible lip print.  “Know ye by this mark as a former prisoner of the WROAR.”