I wrote this Clique Wars story last June 'n decided it was time for a little editing, because some Silkys have gone off on their own or joined other cliques. Others have, for whatever crazy reason, joined the Silkys since the story was posted. The rest of the story is the same. So here's the updated version, hope everyone enjoys it! -- xoxo ~Laurie~
THEY CALL ME A TAGGER . . . (A Clique Wars Story)
They call me a tagger . . .
It’s what I do. And I’m real good at what I do.
No. Scratch that. I’m not just good.
I’m freaken great.
That’s not just me bragging. I’m only telling it like it is. One reason why I’m so great at tagging is because I’m short. I can vanish into the black shadows the second that trouble approaches. Blink and I’m gone. Snap. Just like that.
I don’t fear the darkness. I embrace it. It keeps me safe.
Another reason is that I really don’t give a damn. About anything.
Except tagging.
I don’t care what the risk is. I don’t care if it’s a church or a clubhouse. A pizza parlor or a police station. I’ll tag it. It’s what I do.
I also give a damn about the GirlyGirlz. See, I’m a member. They took me in, accepted me after I blew out of the Medicine Bow Rez looking to find myself. The GirlyGirlz gave me a purpose in life. In the beginning, there were four of us. Then our ranks grew as more sisters joined. We became a strong tight fighting unit. Call us a gang, call us a clique, call us an evil conglomeration of troublemakers who live for terror, chaos and destruction. That’s our mission.
To be the best.
There are a number of cliques here in the city. All are our sworn enemies. But none are hated as much as the Silk Stocking Girls. It’s really all about us versus them. Nothing else matters. The Silkys are our polar opposites. The GirlyGirlz have taken an oath to make the world a better place . . . one Silky at a time.
There had been an uneasy truce the past few weeks but things have started up again. Which side broke the truce? No one knows. Or cares. The ONLY thing we all agree on is that truces suck. In the scheme of things a truce isn’t worth the breath it takes to say the word. The truce is dead. It’s back to fighting. The way it’s supposed to be.
That’s why I’m out here in the black night, dodging the light of the full moon, slipping easily into the shadows if a car approaches or a door opens or someone passes a window. I love the shadows. They protect me.
A dog barks furiously. A cat screeches as a garbage can topples over with a loud crash, followed by a stream of curses from behind one of those windows. Then there’s silence. I continue on my way.
There’s a scream way off in the distance . . . only one, loud and long until it finally fades into nothing. Human? Definitely. Female? From the sound of it, yes.
“Hope it wasn’t one of us,” I mutter under my breath.
You never can tell. In the city, anything can happen. That’s why I stay in the shadows.
I finally make it to my destination. A big decaying ugly brownstone deep in the bowels of the scum-infested cesspool of the inner city. The headquarters of the Silk Stocking Girls. I stand across the street, enveloped in the blanket of black of an empty burned-out Safeway. My upper lip curls in a slight sneer as I check the brownstone for signs of life.
No lights. No movements behind closed windows. No one home. I don’t blame them. Why anyone would use this ugly building as a safehouse is a mystery to me. But nothing about the Silkys surprises me anymore.
Whoa, whoa, hold the phone. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself.
I know what you may be thinking, Friend Reader. Shouldn’t a story like this have a ‘Once upon a time’ beginning? Not always. But I won’t disappoint.
You ready? Hold onto something now. Here we go . . .
Once upon a time, on a day like every other day . . .
I’m walking down a lonely highway in the South Dakota Badlands in the hot summer sun, free from the stifling existence I endured on the Rez all my life. Suddenly I hear a loud devilish roar of an engine and a huge cloud of dust on the horizon. I stand transfixed as it gets closer and closer till it stops right beside me with a hellish squeal of tires and wild Cajun music blaring from the speakers. It's the most beautiful shiny red convertible I've ever seen and behind the wheel is a girl so confident and sure of herself . . . with an aura that slowly fills me with the urge to just jump into whatever life throws at me, headfirst, without thinking. Her hair is flowing in the wind, there’s a fiery sparkle in her eyes that can still be seen behind her sunglasses and a mischievous smile on her face.
Lounging in the back seat are two other girls. One stares out at nothing in particular on the horizon, with a totally bored look on her impassive beautiful face. She’s bigger than the other two, tough looking. I find out later that her name is Justine and that she’s a former policewoman. This sets off alarm bells in my brain but it turns out she was kicked off the force for excessive brutality. Okay, maybe she’s alright. I hope.
The other girl isn’t much bigger than I am but she has a total ‘don’t fuck with me’ aura that’s emphasized by the various tattoos covering her arms and torso (holy crap on a cracker, she has skulls on her boobs!) and her flashing dark eyes. Those eyes give me one of those quick dismissing glances I've gotten my whole life. Then she turns to the driver and snarls, "What the fuck are we wasting time for, Jonica? Let's get outta this hell on earth!"
“Lighten up, Gemma,” the driver casually replies. Then she looks at me, still grinning. "Where ya coming from, little girl?"
I bristle a bit at this. Yeah, fine, I’m short, I don’t hide that fact. But it sort of pisses me off that this Jonica character calls me ‘little’. Especially since I can tell she’s not very much taller than I am. An inch or two, tops.
But instead of telling her to do something to herself that’s physically impossible, I just mutter, "Nowhere."
"Where ya headed?"
"Anywhere."
"Need a ride?"
"Where are ya going?"
"Over the edge. Want to come along, cher?"
Her evil grin grows even wider. My answer is to hop in the front seat next to her, my own grin matching hers, eyes fixed on the road ahead and all the exciting wild adventures the future has planned for us as we zoom down the highway in that devil red convertible, the roar of the engine and the blare of the raucous zydeco music cut through the quiet of the South Dakota afternoon as we zoom off to destinations unknown . . .
That was the beginning. The four of us. We’ve gotten bigger since then. Stronger. Became the best.
Satisfied? Okay, we now return to our regularly scheduled program . . .
I stand in the coal black alley by the gutted Safeway, ready to prove once again that I'm worthy of being with my new family, that I can go all the way to the edge unafraid . . .
After looking both ways (like my Dad taught me in another lifetime), I sneak silently across the empty street, becoming one with the midnight shadows. My luck holds out. All the streetlights around here have been smashed and the full moon is hiding behind the tall edifices of urban architecture. I pull a can of blood red (my personal favorite) spraypaint from the pocket of my hoodie and give it a few cautious shakes. The rattling echoes softly and I quickly check to see if anyone heard it. The seconds tick by. Nothing. No one in sight. No alarm is sounded. I’m still alone. Still safe.
Luck. Gotta love it. Another reason why I’m so damn good at this.
I pull off the cap and start to tag.
“Send them a message,” Jonica told me. “You know what to do.”
I know what to do. In big dripping blood red letters I spray three words on the wall of the brownstone. The Silkys will get the message. They’ll know who sent it. Those three words will tell them all they need to know.
TERROR
CHAOS
DESTRUCTION
I take a step back, smiling at the message. My work here is almost done. Only thing left is the signature. Then I can slip into the darkness and fade away in the night breeze. The smell of the paint is strong in the air. I give the can a final shake and complete the job with the clique’s tag:
GGz
Just as I finish the bottom slash of the ‘z’, I become aware of another smell close by. A combination of Prada Candy and slutty desperation. I start to whirl around but a soaking wet cloth materializes out of nowhere and presses up hard into my nose and mouth. A stronger more powerful odor, like a mix of heavy duty paint thinner and bananas that have gone very very bad, overpowers everything else.
Ether. Got to be.
The paint can falls from my hand, hits the sidewalk with a metallic clank, and rolls away. I struggle frantically but the hand clamping that wet cloth over my face is too damn strong. My vision is blurred but I can make out a face right next to mine. Very pretty. But deadly. Dark hair. Bright almond shaped eyes. Asian? My legs feel like overcooked spaghetti. My eyes roll back into my head. I feel myself fading . . .
The last thing I remember is seeing my Dad in the fuzzy depths of my mind’s eye. But he’s . . . he’s dead. He died when I was thirteen. No, here he is. Standing waist deep in an inky pool of swirling ooze, holding his arms out for me.
Am I dead?
“Come on, baby. You can do it.”
“I’m scared, Daddy.”
“It’s alright, Laurie. Daddy’s here to catch you. Jump in!”
I jump.
Everything goes black.
“Let me tell you about the Man in the Moon.”
“Daddy, I don’t wanna hear about the Man in the Moon!”
“LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE MAN IN THE MOON!”
(stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it)
“HE HAS EYES LIKE TWO BIG PEPPERMINT LIFESAVERS!”
Eyes. My eyes open. Or do they? Everything is still black. Pitch. Absolutely void of light. I’m lying in black.
Am I dead?!?
I sit up slowly. No. I don’t think I’m dead. Just cold. Shivering. That’s a good sign, right? Means I’m still in the game. Damn, I am REALLY cold. So cold that my nipples are pushing against my tight black tee . . . Wait. There’s something rotten in Denmark. My nipples SHOULD be pushing against my tight black tee. But they are pushing against nothing. Nothing but air. I’m topless.
What the . . . ?
A quick blind check with my groping fingers tells me that I’m bottomless too. As naked as the minute I was born.
Okay, I know I’m not dead. But is this what they mean by being born again?
Shit. Whatever they used to send me to dreamland is really doing a number on my mind. I’m talking goofy, gotta snap out of it. Maybe if I stand up . . .
WhaFUCK!!!
The sharp hard crack and searing pain as my skull meets something hard and unforgiving before I can even straighten up to my full five-foot one-inch height tells me I’m probably in some small crawl space somewhere. I sit back down heavily, groaning, holding my head.
I hear movement above me. The sound of someone walking. I open my mouth to cry out for help. Then I stop myself. The little voice inside my brain lets me have it big-time.
Shut up, stupid. Think. Somebody just knocked you out. Stripped you naked. Put you down here. That ‘somebody’ probably heard you bonk your cabeza just now and knows you’re awake. And you wanna holler out to them. You’re dumb as dirt, Laurie Breeze. Just sit tight. Play it cool.
The footsteps seem like they’re right above me now. I hold my breath, waiting. Trying to figure out a way to keep my racing heart from thinking it’s waiting for the green light at the 500. Suddenly the ceiling opens up and I’m blinded by a bright light that fills my little prison. I squint my eyes and raise my hand to cover my face. As I do, strong hands grab my arm and hoist me up into a pink nightmare.
Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.
I’m trapped in a giant bottle of Pepto-Bismol. Everything is pink. The walls. The ceiling. The floor that I was just pulled out from under it is pink parquet. The trap door is kicked closed with a bang. My eyes start to adjust to the weird light.
I’m flanked by two blondes. Each has a firm grip on one of my arms. Escape is impossible. The girls look familiar. I know I’ve seen them before. It hits me. They’re Silkys. I don’t know them very well. Just that their names are Natasha and Barbie. And they call Barbie 'The Brawler'. She doesn’t look very much like a brawler to me. The blondes aren’t looking at me, they are staring straight ahead at a group of girls sitting in a line along the far wall.
“Bring her over here.”
The blondes pull me roughly over to face the speaker, another blonde sitting on a pink cushioned chair in the center of the group. Heidi Foster. The leader of the Silk Stocking Girls. She has a smug satisfied smirk on her face as she looks me over. Once again I become aware of my nakedness. I have an urge to cover myself with my hands but Barbie and Ashley are still holding my wrists.
“Well, well, well. Look who decided to pay us a visit.” Heidi giggled. The rest of the Silkys joined in. “Little Laurie of the Girlygirlz. And she left us such a nice present on our wall too. We’ll have to thank her for that, won’t we, girls?”
Barbie and Natasha pull down hard on my arms and I’m forced onto my knees. This amuses the Silkys even more. The room fills with their annoying giggles. Kasia, Heidi’s second-in-command, pipes up loudly, “Oh yeah, we’ll thank the little GirlyGirl alright. In our own special way.”
She’s seated on Heidi’s right, smirking at me, leaning back in her chair, her long legs crossed. I know I’m in big trouble but I fight hard not to show it. I look at all the faces watching me, trying to spot a friendly one. Maybe a sympathetic ally who can help me get the hell out of here. There’s Sarah SizzlerSazzle (whatever the heck that means). Not a chance with her, she hates me. Natasha seems like a typical Silky. Ballerina Candice? I don't think so, we've butted heads a couple times, exchanged nasty taunts back and forth. Same with Jess, the NJ Diva. I’m sort of on good terms with Little Kelly but she wouldn’t risk helping me. I might have a shot with Hailey. We’re close even though we’re on opposite sides. I try to read the expression on her face. Our eyes meet for a second. Then she deliberately turns away.
Shit. It’s hopeless. I’m alone. On my own.
“I’ll be fair with you, Laurie,” Heidi purrs. “Even though I really shouldn’t. You caught me in a good mood. I’ll make a deal with you.”
“What kind of deal?” I ask suspiciously.
Barbie the Brawler gives me a hard kick in the ribs. I flinch and wince from the pain but bite my lip to keep from crying out.
“You don’t talk back when Heidi’s speaking,” she hisses. “You listen.”
“Don’t be so impatient,” Heidi giggles. “I was just about to tell you when you so rudely interrupted me.”
“Typical GirlyGirl,” Kasia mutters.
“Bloody rude,” Sarah adds.
Candice chimes in, “Obnoxious. Totally!”
“As I was saying,” Heidi continues, “we brought you down here to our Arena for a reason. To entertain us. I don’t mean singing or dancing, that’s silly. No, you’re going to fight for us tonight. You win, you go free. You lose . . . . . ”
She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to. I know what’s in store if I lose. I’m not planning on losing.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t,” Heidi replies quickly. “You’ll just have to take that chance.”
“Heidi doesn’t lie,” Kasia adds.
Right. And I don’t breathe.
Heidi gives a little nod. Natasha and Barbie pull me back up to my feet. Then they move to the row of chairs and sit. For a second I consider making a run for it but I can’t see any doors. All the walls are solid pink. And the trap door isn’t an option either. First of all, I’d be caught before I found it. Second, it would just put me back in that pitch-black cell. Which is where I’d end up anyway.
Heidi nods again. Little Kelly gets up from the last seat in the row and moves a few feet along the wall. She gives a sharp little knock and an opening appears on the pink wall like magic. A figure materializes from the darkness beyond and slowly walks into the Arena. Maybe a couple of inches taller than me. Guessing around 110 pounds, give or take a few. Dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She’s wearing what looks like a black sailor top with a gray nautical collar, baring her taut midriff. A gladiator miniskirt and black ankle tights complete her attire. Definitely overdressed compared to what I’m wearing.
As she moves closer I get a good look at her face. Very pretty. But deadly. Bright almond shaped eyes. My eyes narrow. It’s the bitch who knocked me out.
“Oh, I see you recognize Ami from your little encounter before,” Heidi chirps from her chair.
“Oh, I recognize the bitch alright,” I hiss, just loud enough Ami to hear.
My eyes never leave my enemy as she answers me with a smirk, then turns her back to me. Facing the other Silkys, she gives a little bow. They break into applause from their seats.
This is my chance. I take it. I rush at her, my bare feet thumping lightly on the pink parquet. I don’t know whether she hears me or is alerted by the shocked looks and light gasps from her friends but Ami’s reaction is lightning fast. She pivots sharply, plants her back foot and sends a lethal piston-like side kick hard into my tummy, stopping me in my tracks. I let out a gasp and fall backwards, my bare butt makes painful contact with the unyielding floor.
“Unh unh unh, bad little Laurie,” Heidi scolds me as the other Silkys have a good laugh at my expense. “No fighting till I give the signal, that’s the rule!”
One of the Silkys (I can’t tell which one, I’m too busy catching my breath) calls out, “GirlyGirlz always cheat!”
Little Kelly moves over to Ami as she pulls off her sailor top. Underneath she is wearing a black leather bikini top. Kelly kneels facing Ami and very slowly pulls the gladiator skirt down her legs, revealing a matching black leather thong. Kelly stands up holding the discarded skirt and Ami also hands her the top. Kelly leans forward and they kiss. It’s definitely not just a good luck kiss, that’s for sure. There are a few murmurs and giggles from the Silky Peanut Gallery by the wall. I stand up, shaking my head, impatient to get things going. Heidi must feel the same way because she clears her throat with a little “hem, hem.” Ami and Kelly pull apart quickly, a slight blush appearing on Kelly’s face. Ami gives her a wink and Kelly hurries back to her seat, clutching the sailor top and skirt to her chest. Ami turns to face me, all traces of a smile gone.
I’m feeling pretty confident, this Ami doesn’t seem like much of a threat. We’re about the same size. I’ve fought bigger girls on the Rez and beaten them. Okay, maybe I got lucky once or twice but luck is just as important as skill, right? Then a worrying thought pushes itself into my head. What if they don’t let me go after I win? A Silky promise isn’t worth shit, we all know that. Well, only thing to do if that happens is to kick the crap out of Heidi until she sees the light.
Speaking of Heidi, her annoying voice brings me back to the now.
“Before Laurie tries cheating again,” she is saying, “it’s time. FIGHT!”
Ami and I start to circle each other slowly. I look over her tight tense body quickly, searching for any signs of weakness. She does the same to me and I become really aware of my nakedness. It makes me feel vulnerable but only for a second. My mind flashes back to the stories I heard growing up of how Lakota women long ago would fight naked with no shame, only honor. I straighten up a bit in pride and quickly rush at Ami with a cry that seems to come from deep in my soul, like I’m channeling the spirit of a long-dead ancestor. Ami easily slides to her left avoiding my reckless charge and I stop myself, turning quickly to face her, trying to block out the laughs, hoots and catcalls of the Silkys.
Ami cocks her hips to the side and lightly rests her hands on them. She has a smirk on her face and she gives me a look as if to say, ‘Now that was pretty dumb’. I feel my face start to get red and all I want to do is smack that snarky smirk off her smug face for good. I charge at her again but this time she grabs my arm, twists her body, extends her hip and easily flips me over. My back hits the pink floor with a crash and I’m pretty lucky the back of my head doesn’t hit just as hard or the fight would probably be over right now. I groan and start to sit up but Ami proves just how much of a bitch she is when she steps down hard on my belly as she strolls over to the Silkys with a giggle and her arms spread wide.
“I didn’t expect it to be THIS easy,” I hear her say. Once again, the dumb Silkys think this is the most hilarious thing they’ve ever heard. God, I hate the whole damn bunch of them! I feel my blood boiling and quickly scramble back up to my feet. I take a deep breath, brush my hair from my face and ready myself to quickly rush her while her back is turned.
Whoa! Think, stupid! That’s just what she wants! You’re playing into her game!
The loud voice in my head stops me in my tracks. That move sure didn’t work according to plan the first two times I tried it. To be honest, it flat out sucked. So, instead of moving in fast, I just stand there, composing myself, legs spread wide, arms up, waiting for the annoyingly confident bitch to turn around to face me. As she does, I shake my head ever so slightly, just enough for her to see. I start to slowly move toward her, circling, my eyes locked on hers. I waggle my fingers at her, beckoning her to me as I hiss, “Bring it, Ami! Show me what you’ve got!”
Ami’s almond shaped eyes are shining now. She breaks into a big smile. “Oh, it’ll be a pleasure, Laurie! Mine. Definitely not yours!”
We inch closer to each other. Ami is crouching a bit. It’s either part of her strategy or she’s making fun of my short stature. This doesn’t bother me, I’m totally used to it. Most everybody is taller than I am, the only two Silkys shorter than me are Little Kelly and NJ Jess. My eyes never leave Ami’s. Both of us are starting to breathe a bit heavily now, from the nervous tension, fear and excitement. Ami’s small breasts are heaving under her black leather bikini top. My equally small breasts, with absolutely nothing to cover them, are heaving just as much. My heart is racing, I can only guess Ami’s is too. I’m definitely not used to fighting naked in a pink room in front of a group of stuck-up Silkys. Ami is a little luckier. She’s wearing more than I am and our audience is all on her side.
I get in striking distance and suddenly reach my left hand out for her right wrist. Ami reacts exactly like I want her to. She leans back and pulls her arm out of harm’s way. This gives me the opportunity to lash my right foot out at her left leg. My heel makes sharp contact just below her knee. Now it’s Ami’s turn to cry out as her leg buckles and she’s forced to retreat a couple of steps. I smirk in satisfaction at the sudden quietness from the watching Silkys.
Ami is still bending over a bit, the smile gone from her pretty face. It’s replaced by a look of combined anger and pain. I move in fast, not giving her a chance to recover. I reach my left hand out behind her head getting a tight grip on her dark ponytail. As I pull her toward me I start to bring my right knee up into her belly but Ami is quick enough to twist her body enough so it’s just a glancing blow to her side. At the same time, she slams her right fist hard into my ribs, just below my left breast.
I let go of her ponytail and double over, gasping, as the Silkys find their voices again, filling the room with their cheers. Ami slides her bare feet on the floor as she moves to her left, drawing my attention that way, as I brace to counter her attack. But she suddenly cuts back to her right with no warning, grabbing my left wrist. Before I can reposition myself, she strikes with the speed of a desert rattler. She pulls me toward her as she hisses, “Now THIS is how it’s done!” She fires her left knee up and buries it hard and deep into my lower belly, just above my kitty.
The long moan that escapes from my mouth echoes in the Arena as I double over, struggling to stay on my feet. Both of my hands are clutching my belly. Tears start to stream out of my blue eyes. I inhale deeply, trying to catch my breath. Little Kelly lets out a wild whoop and screams, “Way to go, sweetie! Now finish the bitch off!”
“No!” another voice shouts out. Sounds like Kasia. “Make her suffer some more!”
I can’t see what Ami’s is doing, my eyes are too full of tears. But I sure feel it a second later when her interlocked hands slam down hard into the back of my neck, sending me down to the floor in front of her on my hands and knees. Well, the Silkys sure love that. It was like they just won the Lottery or something.
Now there’s one thing about me that needs to be said right here and right now. I am no quitter. Never have been. Never will be. I’ll fight to the bitter end, no matter how bad the odds are or how much of a beating I’m taking. I don’t have a death wish, I’m not a ‘pain whore’, I just hate to quit. Maybe it’s the Lakota Sioux in me. Or maybe I’m just plain dumb. Probably a little bit of both.
So here I am, on all fours in front of the evil bitch who put me here. I know she’s probably thinking of the most painful, most humiliating way to finish me off. I also know there’s no way I’m letting that happen. Ami’s fingers grab my curly dark hair. Just as she starts to yank it I make a fist with my right hand and drive it down onto her left foot with all my might. Ami’s screech of pain drowns out the gasps of the Silkys. She lets go of my hair and stumbles back a few steps. I look up and quickly wipe the tears from my eyes. I notice that Ami is crying now too.
GOOD!
Both our bodies glisten under the pink lights as a thin sheen of perspiration covers them. My eyes burn and sting a bit from the mix of sweat and tears. Ami is having a hard time standing, she’s favoring her left foot, not putting weight on it. Like the old song says, it’s now or ever. I take a deep breath and launch myself at Ami from my knees. I wrap my arms around her thighs, catching her by surprise, tackling her. Her arms flail wildly as she crashes down on the parquet floor on her back. I waste no time scrambling on top of her, straddling her belly, my thighs pressed tight against her body.
I start slapping and backhanding her face in a primal rage. I totally want to destroy this girl, for sneaking up on me outside Silky headquarters, for knocking me out, for the pain and punishment she’s dished out to me in this damn pink hell. But most of all, for catching me doing what I thought I was best at . . . tagging without getting caught. She’s the first who ever did that and I’m gonna make damn sure she’s also the last.
Ami’s hands are up, covering her face. I don’t care. I keep swinging. I’m facing her clique members. I give them a fast look. There’s hate on their faces. And fear. Heidi’s teeth are gritted and her hands are tightly gripping the armrests of her chair. It’s not supposed to be this way. Oh no. The little GirlyGirl tagger is supposed to be getting her ever-lovin’ ass kicked. That was the plan. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans . . .
I glare down at Ami. “Let’s give your Silky sisters a hell of a show, what do you say?”
With a maniacal look on my face, I grab her now sweaty dark hair with both hands, lift her head up off the floor a few inches, and slam it back down with a loud THWACK. Ami whimpers as her nails claw at my wrists and forearms. I’m too amped up to feel it very much. I raise her head up again, a bit higher this time. And drive it down into the hard wood again.
“GET OFF MY GIRLFRIEND, YOU FUCKEN DIRTY BITCH!!!”
The furious scream cuts through the Arena, stopping all other noise like somebody just flipped a switch. Even Ami stops her pathetic whimpering. Little Kelly stands by her overturned chair, her small fists balled, her red face contorted in rage. She starts toward me, ignoring Heidi’s command for her to sit back down. I let go of Ami’s hair and pull up to my knees, my fists up, ready for her. But two Silkys make a mad dash at Kelly and cut her off before she gets close. She puts up a struggle but they get her back to the wall and restrain her there.
I wish I could say it returned to ‘business as usual’ after Kelly is forced back into her chair. Yeah, I wish I could say that. Truth is, Kelly’s distraction is all it takes to turn the fight around. It happens so fast, a few seconds, but that’s all the time Ami needs smash her right fist hard into my exposed unprotected kitty. Once. Twice. My body stiffens as a fiery pain shoots through me. I start to double over with a gurgling cry as my wide eyes stare unbelievingly into hers. A sadistic grin fills her face as she reaches a hand up and rakes her lethal claws across my eyes. My gurgled cry becomes a wail of agony as I cover up my sore naked kitty with one hand and my stinging, burning, tearing eyes with the other. Ami plants her feet and bucks up as hard as she can, easily throwing me off her. I sprawl in a sobbing heap beside her, curled up on my side, my knees tucked up, as I rub my eyes desperately. Ami scrambles to her feet, reaches up behind her head, undoes her loosened ponytail and shakes her long dark hair out. Her hard angry breathing drowns out my muffled moans. Even though I can’t see her, I know she’s dying to pay me back for my attack, now that I’m practically blinded and vulnerable, curled up on the floor. And that’s exactly what she does.
She starts with a hard swift kick to my ass. Then she smashes her foot down into my side. I try to curl up even tighter, covering myself as much as possible. The Silkys are all on their feet now. A few of them must think they’re back on cheer squad because they actually start chanting, “Kick her again! Kick her again! Harder! Harder!”
Seriously? Seriously?!
Did I tell you how much I hate them?
Ami obliges. She kicks me again. Harder. This time in the head. She stomps her heel down on the side of my head so hard I begin to see those bright flashing lights you always hear about. My head is pounding and everything starts to go fuzzy. I feel my arms move but it’s like my body has switched to slow motion.
Ami pokes my forehead with her toe as she hisses loudly, “Now you know how it feels, bitch! Hurts, doesn’t it?”
She doesn’t give me a chance to answer. Like I even could. She moves behind me and grabs hold of my now sweaty hair. With a furious snarl, she yanks me up savagely to my knees facing the Silkys by the wall. I screech from the sudden shocking pain in my scalp. My hands flail up wildly slapping at any part of her within my reach. She laughs and swats them down with a single swipe of her hand. Ami uses my hair to pull me on my knees to the wall until I’m right in front of Heidi. Maybe a foot away from her. My still defiant eyes, blinking and full of tears, meet hers. She sits there on her chair, a satisfied smile on her face, like a slutty princess on a throne, looking down at me on my knees in front of her.
“Apologize for what you did to our wall,” Ami demands as she tugs my hair again.
Like that will ever happen. The devil better put in an order for a shitload of winter coats because hell will freeze over before I apologize to the Silkys!
I bite my lower lip. And stay silent. Heidi’s blue eyes narrow in anger. Kasia taps her foot on the floor. All the Silkys are watching me. Waiting.
Let them wait. I’m not saying shit.
Ami cups my chin with her right hand and squeezes my cheeks hard, pursing my lips.
“APOLOGIZE!”
A few unintelligible sounds come out of my mouth. Heidi strains to make out what I’m saying. She leans forward in her chair. And that’s when I spit right in her face.
Yeah. I know. Definitely not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, considering the situation. But so totally worth it.
Heidi gives a shocked cry as she jerks back in her chair. She wipes my spit from her face with the back of her hand and squeaks out, “Finish it!” in a small but angry voice. Ami pulls me up to my feet and drags me back to the middle of the room by my hair. I stumble behind her, trying to keep from falling. She turns me around again to face the Silkys and sends me to my knees with a brutal punch to my lower tummy, right below my bellybutton. I kneel there, wheezing for breath, my head down, my body slumped, the only thing that keeps me from hitting the floor is her firm grip in my hair.
“Oh, you are so gonna hate this, GirlyGirl!” Ami stands behind me, laughing. “But you so deserve it!”
“The Ami Clamp?” Little Kelly giggles as she bounces up and down on her seat.
“The Ami Clamp!” Ami nods back at her. My fuzzy brain is racing, what the hell is the Ami Clamp?!
“Give it to her real good, Sugar Pie!” Kelly calls out, clapping her hands. “Till she begs!”
Ami’s fingers grip my hair tighter as she pulls my head back, forcing my kneeling body to arch backwards. I can hear one of the Silkys giggle, “That’s one way to make her little boobs look bigger!” Ami has my head pulled so far back that I’m blinking up at the blinding pink lights on the ceiling. Her legs slightly spread, she uses my hair to slide my head between her thighs. My upturned face presses against her sweaty leather-thonged butt as she squeezes her thighs against my head, ‘clamping’ me in her version of a standing head-scissors.
Her slender but strong thighs are like a vise as she continues to squeeze them harder. My face is beet red, my head is pounding from the pressure, I gasp for air with my nose and mouth pushed up into her butt and kitty. I slump even more as I feel myself growing weaker, my butt is now resting on my feet. I slap blindly at her thighs, scratching and hitting them desperately as she crushes my trapped head even more. I start to panic, I can’t think, my head is swirling, oh gawd it hurts!!!!!
In like a fog from far away, I hear Ami taunting, “Just give up, GirlyGirl! You know you want to. Come on. Say the words for me.” I still keep struggling but my strength is fading fast. “No? Still not ready to submit, Laurie? Huh? Okay, maybe THIS will change your mind.”
Ami’s butt is covering my eyes but it doesn’t take long for me to find out what ‘this’ means. Her fingers clamp onto my nipples and she starts to twist them savagely, digging her thumbnails into the tender flesh at the same time. My tortured scream is muffled by her butt pressing against my mouth. Ami cruelly plays with my nipples, stretching them as the same Silky from before hoots out, “And THAT’s another way to make her little boobs look bigger!”
“Mmmmmm, Laurie, your warm breath on my kitty is making it tingle so much!” Ami giggles. “I almost wish you don’t give up!” She squeezes her thighs really hard, so hard it feels like my head will squish and explode like a ripe tomato. My arms drop down, limp by my sides. It’s over. Done. There’s no fight left in me. In a few seconds I’ll be unconscious if this keeps up. My body surrenders completely. Ami must feel or sense that I’m done. She hisses, “Just tap if you can’t say the words.”
My right arm feels like it weighs a hundred pounds as I try to raise it high enough to tap Ami’s thigh. I don’t have the strength to . . . It flops back down again. The best I can do is slide it on the floor until my fingers rest on Ami’s right foot. I tap. Just like she wants me to do. I tap.
“That’s not good enough, bitch. Not after you had the nerve to spit in Heidi’s face. For that, you’re going out!”
I kind of hear Ami saying something as I tap her foot. But it’s like the words are coming from one end of a long tunnel and I’m miles away. All I know is, the pressure isn’t going away. I’m tapping but she’s not letting go. I keep trying to tap my fingertips on her foot until my hand slides off. My body twitches, my breasts and belly heave as I gasp for air, I give one long convulsive shudder and finally fade back into the black.
I don’t know how long I’m out. Probably just a minute or two. I wake up flat on my back. Disoriented. It takes just a second to make me aware of where I am. Ami is standing over me, her arms flexed, grinning down with her foot on my face. Apparently while I was out, the Silkys had been snapping pics of Ami doing victory poses over me.
Gawd. I’m still in hell.
There really isn’t much left to tell. The Silkys play with me for a while. Ami rides me around the Arena like I was a pony, using my hair for reins. They take turns slapping my butt to get me to go faster. They even make me neigh. I’m forced to grit it out until they get bored. Heidi yawns. That was the signal. Fun time is over.
Without even looking back, she mutters, “Get rid of the trash.” Then she leaves the Arena, followed by most of the Silkys. Ami, arm in arm with Little Kelly, is the last to go. “Hope you had as much fun as I did, Laurie,” she giggles as they walk out the door.
Kasia and Candice stay behind. They walk over to me. I guess they’re responsible for getting rid of ‘the trash’. Kasia holds a can of spraypaint in her hand. I recognize it right away. It’s mine. Blood red. My favorite color. Sarah pulls me up to my feet. Kasia takes her time spraying three big letters, first on my breasts and tummy, then on my back and butt.
SSG
I’ve been tagged.
They tie my hands behind my back with a pair of old silk stockings and cram another pair into my mouth. Then they cover my head with a pillowcase. Kasia whispers, “Next time it’s my turn to play with you!”
She and Candice grab my arms and pull me out of the Arena. They put me in a car and we drive for a short while. Then I’m yanked out of the car, lifted up and deposited in an almost full trash dumpster. Probably the one in the alley by GGz headquarters. I hear their car zoom away and lie there in the rubbish, waiting for one of my sisters to find me.
They call me a tagger . . .
It’s what I do. And I’m real good at what I do. Well, I was. Until tonight.
Tonight the tagger got tagged.
And that sucks. But there will be hell to pay.
That’s a fact.
