The Wheels of Miss Fortune Pt. 01

Walter Neil was always looking for a little bit of blood. Everyone was, but he felt a deeper excitement about it than most. The local big league Roller Derby was too squeamish for him. They had broadcast regulations to think about. He preferred the minor league, the training ground for the stars and the temporary stomping ground for the real bruisers. The amateurs were sloppy, they made the kind of mistakes that would cost them bits of the slippery red juice. Skaters either proved themselves and moved on to the televised version, injured themselves out of the entire sport, or if they were particularly vicious, disappeared the next week. Maybe they were expelled for their sadism, he didn't know for sure. He simply didn't see them the anymore.

He wasn't the only one that brought a camera, but he could tell by the flashes and the looks of the others that they didn't know real meat of the match. It wasn't just in the spills and wipeouts. The entire gamut of emotion played out on the girl's faces during the match. Agony, anger, triumph, and this other emotion he watched so intently for. The blood brought it out. The faces became more animal like. It was like watching a child torture a frog. A tiny smirk and then the eyes lit up as the more reptile part of the brain took over. There was beauty in cruelty. He would get to see it maybe twice off any one girl if he was lucky and not fiddling with the dials of his camera. She'd wouldn't be back the next week. Maybe it scarred her away and sent her running from her own true nature.

But Stagger Hardly was different. His passion had grown for the sport in the past few weeks to a fever pitch as he watched her unleash her girlish smiles after an ever increasing amount of dirty tricks and rotten no good injuries on the other players. She didn't seem to be getting scarred away at all. Her cruelty was beginning to swell like a sponge dinosaur in a glass of water. The edges of it were getting bloated and ugly and soon the glass would have to break. He wanted to capture every moment of it. His regular album of photographs was neglected and a new album, exclusively of her exploits, had taken over. He daydreamed of her crashing her body into the people around him; breaking the spirits of his coworkers, slamming the waitress at the Thirsty Kettle into the plate of eggs she was bringing out for the overweight trucker in the booth next to his, he thought of her elbowing Elizabeth as she came out of the shower to lay to next to him.

Small fast girls and big tank like amazons were the regular types to draw attention; (Everyone loves a good David and Goliath story) but Stagger was only slightly above average size for a woman, and below average size if she'd been a man. Short black hair neatly tucked into the helmet on top of an angular face, smooth pale white skin, baby fat still around the arm muscles. Walter Neil was a breast man, he never even tried to make it with a chick unless she had a D-cup, but he stared intently at Stagger's slight bees as they swayed beneath her shirt. She didn't wear a bra.

That Friday night, he sat in his usual spot. Elizabeth had quit coming to the matches with him when his greedy eyes started fixing themselves so exclusively on Stagger. She was correct in being jealous, but in hindsight now, vacating and ignoring what was happening may have been a mistake: if not for her, then at least for Walter. Poor Walter.

The match against the Fifth Street Skaters and The Ladies of the Wheel went pretty normal at first. Low scoring jams, big pile ups, and only the occasional moments of victory. The main Fifth Street Jammer: Faith Snow Muse, a tiny super fast dyke most likely headed for the big show, didn't seem to be able to get past the latest bruiser on the Ladies rooster. That bruiser, that six foot two Bloody Mess, plowed out entire clumps of blockers and left havoc on the track that kept tripping Faith up, sending her on collision courses through the only gaps and into the behemoth blocker's hard checking hips. Frustration was settling in. Stagger spent the first couple of jams in the penalty box after a couple of mean spirited chicken wings into Bloody Mess's face. Fifth Street was adding up to be the place to get noticed, but the Ladies of the Wheel had done their homework. In the second half, the score looked like a long overdue ass beating was finally being spanked into the firm butts of the Fifth Street Skaters.

All the skaters got into position. Stagger at the last moment gave the pivot rag from her helmet to a young black girl who had only started playing the week before. She filed back in the ranks next to Bloody Mess. The large women stared down her mean crooked nose directly at Stagger. Her eyes narrowed. Stagger turned her head, smiled, and stuck her small pink tongue out. Walter felt his heart skip and a yearn build up in him. His dick twitched, decided it wouldn't have enough room and purred slightly in his jeans. The whistle blew and the blockers and pivots took off.

Stagger Hardly checked Bloody Mess with her bony hip into her ass cheek. The frustration was evident on Bloody's face. That check hurt. Bloody Mess came around the third turn too eager and the Fifth Street jammer took the lead through the entire pack. She wasn't out for the jammer, she wanted to flatten Stagger. Hatred was evident. Stagger was glowing with pleasure as her elbows slipped in between the giant's arms and against her ribs. Then on the fourth turn, Stagger side skated to the outside and Bloody Mess lost momentum as she crushed into her own pivot. The pivots legs gave out and she brought down Bloody Mess and a few other unfortunate blockers from her own team. Stagger kicked off for the pack of wreckage cutting across the corner for a direct line to the fallen Bloody Mess. Bloody Mess's face slipped into a solemn defeat. She had been baited and cost the jam for her team. She was most likely going to forget about the vendetta she built up against Stagger; but Stagger balled up tight and continued course. Two aluminum backed speed wheels ran across the hand Bloody Mess was propping herself back up with. Fingers out: what an amateur. As Bloody Mess stared down at the severed digits, her face became a cry of agony. For a second she didn't cry out. She lifted her head to see Stagger skating off into the pack. Stagger spun around skating backwards, flipping a double bird as the woman's face contorted and finally let out a shriek of pain. A whistle blew, the entire match was getting called off. Walter was okay with that, he had speed shot his entire roll of film on that moment and could feel a bulge building to embarrassing proportions. Cups and nachos flew through the air showering Stagger. Her head leaned sideways like she was enjoying the boos. She seemed to be in a moment of ecstasy. Her tight uniform became stained with greasy orange cheese and the beer soaked shirt stuck tightly to her unburdened breasts, then she skated the rest of the way into the back.

Walter was at a loss. He kept replaying the moment in his head. It was a pinnacle of beauty for an already beautiful woman. He hurried home to develop the rolls of film. His hard on hadn't died down at all. It actually hurt a little. He'd need relief...soon. Maybe while the rolls developed he could crank one off, but he knew he'd want to crank it again when the roll came out and the big pop might be better if he waited for that. But he didn't get to masturbate at all that night. When he got to the door, Elizabeth was waiting.

"Derby over already?" she called out to him before he even got to the door.

"Yeah, gonna go develop these rolls," he was flustered a bit and fumbled with the key in the door.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm..."

"Was Stagger there again tonight?" Elizabeth teased, a slight tinged of jealousy fueled her voice but it was still a friendly tease. Walter started getting noticeably red. She eased her hand over his and guided the key in.

The room was dark, musty and smelled like stale cigarettes. Elizabeth dragged Walter into the bedroom. She didn't give him time to hit any of the lights and his feet kept tripping up on his messy housekeeping. Her checks were red with joy and a little devious smile hinted across her face when she flipped the light switch in the bedroom. "I wanna show you something...I got it just for you." She pushed him hard onto the bed. He lifted himself back up a little by propping his upper body with his elbows behind him. Elizabeth was a pretty girl. Very pretty actually. Long strawberry blond hair with slight curls surrounding a round friendly face. A bit on the plump side, but the large melons she kept pushed up in front of her made that easy to ignore.

Elizabeth lifted her blouse up over her head and threw it on the floor. Before she dropped her jeans to the floor, she pulled a pair of fingerless gloves from the back pocket and mashed them on to her hands. She was decked out in some type of homemade derby outfit. She had on short shorts that let the bottom of her ass poke out with black fishnet stockings covering her legs. The black tank top had a crude red tape number eight on it. "Well, what do you think?"

"I think you may have to spend a little time in the penalty box," Walter pulled her on top of him and they tumbled around the bed. He got on top of her and pinned her arms above her head.

"Is that right?"

"I think we're gonna have to call unnecessary roughness on you," Walter growled as he leaned in close to her ear. "You're definitely not playing fair," he whispered.

"I wondered what a girl had to do to get a little attention," she purred back into his ear. The warm breath tingled and he switched to holding both her hands with only one of his. He traced down her shirt, flicked at the red tape eight.

"You're about to get my full attention," Walter dove his hand between her legs and felt her snatch through the thin fabric. He grabbed it hard and worked his hand over it. She was already wet. Giving in to his little fantasy had made her feel dirty, like a whore. She liked that.

He whispered something inaudible into her neck as he ground his palm into the top of her mound. His fingers worked at the sides of her outer lips through the satiny shorts and he pulled her arms higher above her head. She felt even more exposed. Walter started biting at her neck and kissing his way down to her sex. His fist tightened and he pulled the shorts down to her knees. His fingers started combing through the hair around her swollen hole and then plunging into the wet recesses. She stretched her body out and closed her eyes. His thumb worked over her clit, "You dirty little bitch. You're sloppy. I'm gonna have to teach what happens when you work me up like this." He started unbuckling his pants. His cock sprang out from the loosened fly. He let go of her wrists, "Reach down there and put it in you." She grabbed his manhood and guided it into her hole. He thrust hard, sending her body upward. She kept her hand on his shaft and felt it slide back out against it, warm and slick from her juices. He grabbed at her breasts, clutching them tightly beneath his fists. He shifted his weight onto them and began jack hammering into her hips. She could feel his weight slamming against the outside of her.

He moved his hands into her hair and pulled it at the base of her neck. The skin on her neck and calves began to crawl. "Say it!" he commanded. He pounded so hard she couldn't catch time to work out anything other gasps. He slowed..."SAY IT!" "Fuck me." "AGAIN. LOUDER!"

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she repeated as he thrust his member into her with long, deep strokes. She quickly raced her hand up onto her button and began twitching it from side to side. He clenched her breasts again, harder this time. He started pinching her nipples through the tank top and pulling the tit flesh until it lifted her. She cackled something that sounded like "fuck" and her breath became shallow and quick. She worked her clit quickly and then slid her hand away. Blackness spotted her vision. As he pounded, her orgasm keep rising back up, continuing until everything she had gave out and she collapsed beneath his grip.

Walter couldn't tell what was wrong, but he couldn't cum. Under a normal circumstance it would be a welcomed change from trying to hold back. He ruined his own enjoyment so many times before trying not to cum. This time he couldn't and it was bothering him. He pulled out and rolled off of Elizabeth.

"That was good, what got into you?" Elizabeth asked as she traced her fingers across his chest.

"I'm not done," she looked up at him a little shocked at what he said. He shrugged her hand off his chest. Usually they came together. She learned to bring herself off in time with him, but something was wrong. She'd thought he was really worked up over her little costume, but he looked troubled about something. She moved her hand up toward his cheek to turn his face to hers. He grabbed her hand and stared at it. A very curious look came over his face, but it seemed sexual so she didn't pull it away. He kissed her hand and started running her fingertips over his teeth. He ran all the exposed parts from the fingerless gloves over his pointed side canines and incisors, sucking on the fingers. It started to make her loins tingle again. It felt good. Then he bit down hard and she shot straight up in the bed.

"What the fuck!?! Asshole..."

"Shaddup," Walter twisted her arm until she turned on her side and then forced it up against her back. He leaned his body against her bottom side and brought his head to her ear from behind, "You need to be really fucked. Slut." He guided his dick to her tiny rosebud asshole. It was still wet from her pussy, but it didn't want to go in. She could feel the resistance and she tried to squirm away.

"Go easy, just do it slow..." she pleaded.

"You'll take it how you get it," Walter coldly replied as he broke through the resistance her smaller hole put up and slammed his cock back into her guts. His belly was against her plump ass cheeks and he rocked back and forth a second, not coming in or out, just filling her ass with his manhood. Then he pounded her ass as hard as he could. They had done anal before, but this was too rough. Tears started forming in Elizabeth's eyes, and she made pain noises instead of the lustful grunts Walter kept letting out against the nape of her neck. She just wanted it to be over. Why wasn't he cumming. He hiked her arm up higher and it felt like it would break.

"Stop that hurts, not so hard," but he cranked the arm again, "aaahhh..."

"Say you're my bitch," Walter growled from above her. He cranked the arm again harder this time. "I'm your bitch, just stop, " the burning in her ass felt like flesh being ripped from her most delicate areas and covered with salt. "I'm your bitch, I'm Walter's bitch!"

He let go of her arm, "Rub your clit bitch. Finger that dirty fuckin' pussy. I'm gonna fuck your slut ass until you cum. You better work that sloppy cunt." He started pulling back her hair until her face was almost straight up. Her body bounced against the hard thrusts, and she started working her clit with her free hand. The pain still in her arm made her unaware of the feeling it got from being against her moist regions, it was like some foreign hand moved against her lips and did whatever she wanted. Within seconds she was cumming again, even harder this time. Walter pulled her head all the way back by her hair and spit in her face," Fucking whore. Cumming all over your dirty little fingers," Walter grabbed her hand from her clit but the anal assault still sent shivers through her legs. He bit her fingers again, just as hard as before. It really fucking hurt, but she felt full and ground her hips and ass back onto his cock.

"Fuck my ass, keep fucking my ass, Walter. I'm your dirty bitch."

Walter slammed his hand down hard across her buttocks and pushed her away from him. He pulled her head by the hair toward his throbbing cock. She could smell her sex and ass all over it, but he didn't ask and shoved it against her lips. Her mouth stayed closed for second but she quickly gave in, and the dirty dick started sliding against her tongue. The smell started to gag her, but Walter pushed past the gag until his belly pressed down against her nose. He pulled out slow and a fountain of cum flooded her mouth and spilled onto her spit and tear covered face. She panted as Walter turned his back to her and walked toward the window.

"Get out!" He hung his head down not saying anything else as she scurried together her clothes and ran out the bedroom. He hated that she always gave in so much. He wanted to give in a little himself. He heard a voice in the living room and it wasn't Elizabeth. A tall muscular blonde woman was flipping through his photo album of Stagger, "Where's tonight's?"

Chicken Wings

"You really fucked that girl up, Stagger. She lost two fingers, that's not cool," Faith preached as she pulled her top over her jersey. Stagger was an enigma to her. Off the track she seemed calm, the kind of person that would dry out a butterfly on a paper towel to save it. On the track was a different story. Faith had seen her share of sadist roll through derby, but Stagger didn't seem to be naturally vicious. She was pushing herself toward it, trying to prove something. Well, it was proven now. In the corner, still covered in cheese and beer, Stagger held her head heavily in her hands staring at her laces. She hadn't even bothered taking off the helmet yet. "You could've just kicked her face. I mean shit, Stagger, those don't grow back."

"I don't need your lip right now." Stagger kicked her skates off across the floor toward Faith's feet. The jammer hopped over them. She looked intently at Stagger waiting for her to look up. To show some sign of needing to be understood. Stagger didn't stir. Faith gave up and started toward the exit. She turned back one last time, "Well, if you want to talk about it."

"I said I don't need your lip right..."Stagger stopped mid sentence when a large hand came over her cheeks and pressed them in till they both touched her tongue.

"I got some lips you're gonna need," It was Freight Trainingbra. She was the largest blocker Fifth Street had to offer. A mountain of woman cursed with the breasts of young girl. If big tits were the benefit of being a fat girl, Freight had to make up for it with arm and ass muscles. Whatever kind of god came up with the blueprints for Freight, counted on her never giving nourishment to anything and planted acrid gravel in her lungs and briar in her heart. No flowers blossomed from that chest. With one hand she lifted Stagger off the bench and threw her toward the shower room.

The girls never used the shower room, it was always vacant. It smelled like a basement full of dead gerbils. Stagger hit the floor hard and looked into the one way mirror in the upper corner to see Freight and four big dykes from the Ladies of the Wheel filling up the only exit from the damp concrete pit. They circled Stagger like hyenas, waiting for scraps from the main lioness.

"Mama Gia here usually gets her rocks off from Bloody Mess's fingers. The girl could finger fuck like nobody's business," Freight started walking down the sides of the room turning all the shower heads on full hot. "When Mama don't get her rocks off, she gets sloppy. You're gonna help clean her up." The steam was filling the room at an alarming rate. "You got a problem with that?" a body less voice said through the now impenetrable fog.

Stagger leapt through the steam at one of them. She head butted her helmet against the girl's chin laying her flat on her back with a nasty wet thud. She crouched into a fighting stance and undid her chin straps. She came up swinging the helmet into the mist striking another Lady of the Wheel against the side of the head.