Schoolgirl
"Oleska, wait, I need to talk!" — the neighborhood dandy Pashka ran up to me and then said quietly: "You going swimming? Don't go past the garages. They're waiting for you there."
"Everyone's waiting for me. What's it to you?"
"Take me with you, to the river. Scar and two others are there, I heard—"
Scar told them: help me settle the score—I'll share. They're definitely waiting for you."
"I'm not going, and I'm not taking you—you're still a kid."
He ran off, and I went back into the yard. On the engine of my stepfather's cart lay a half-meter-long crowbar. I could have taken it without asking, but a proper young lady should be polite. I walked around the hood and, gallantly pressing his balls into the ground, took the iron bar. The stepfather grunted in agreement, and his limousine rocked on the rotten blocks. I wholeheartedly slammed the hand that was convulsively gripping my noble leg and realized: the crowbar fit perfectly in my hand. Now for the white dance behind the garages. I felt sorry for my stepfather—now he wouldn't be jerking off to my panties. I approached the garages and got worked up—adrenaline sped up my heart and slowed down time. The main suitor must have gotten bored. He used to be called Burnt until he cornered me in the school toilet. Back then, he hugged me, and I kissed him on the neck, almost grazing the artery, and on the cheekbone. Then I broke his nose with my head and almost broke my own leg on his junk. After that, he had to take a new alias.
I saw the two suicides where I expected them. Throwing my backpack at their feet, I spun around, aiming my toy at the third one's head. I wasn't wrong—the iron made a pleasant squelch, and I, crouching in a reverse spin, permanently ruined one guy's gait and threw this miraculous rod at the other one's head. I looked around: Scar was twitching on the ground, clutching something bloody instead of his face; the other two were lying peacefully. I picked up my backpack, the iron bar, and went to the river. I felt like singing (and Vasya did too, but more on that later). I trudged along, dreaming of a beautiful prince in white socks, clean underwear (or without), who knew what toothpaste, perfume, and cunnilingus were. My brother's face appeared before my eyes. I wasn't thinking about him. I believed he would take me from this hole to the city, and there I would have everything. But my mother was against it. Valera was my brother on my father's side, and my mother hated him, even though she was the third in my father's life. She was a beauty until she started drinking. He wanted to steer her away from bad company and died in a fight. My brother loved me and often visited, but without my mother's consent, he couldn't take me. Lost in heavy thoughts, I arrived at the riverbank. I threw my backpack on the ground and climbed the tallest tree to look around. Finding no one, I climbed down and unpacked my backpack. I took off all my clothes, laid them out on the grass, and stretched out on the blanket. The wind pleasantly tickled my body, the sun warmed me, and the river beckoned with its coolness. I ran my palms over my body from my neck to my knees, squeezed my little tits, pinched my nipples; warmth washed over me in waves. I spread my legs and got to work. After tiring myself out properly, I went for a swim, dried off, and started eating. With a fresh mind, I figured out how to get out of there. After refueling, I decided to tire myself out properly a couple more times, then swim and head home—to have some fun... My mother was feeding that goat hot soup with a spoon, even though his left hand was (for now) intact. He probably had a compress in his shorts because his balls wouldn't have swollen to that size otherwise. "Oh, you damned goat, why did you hit our daddy, our breadwinner!" In response, I pulled the iron bar from my backpack. "Don't you dare touch Mother!"
"I'll give him more!"
The rabbit shrank and covered himself with his intact(!) hand. "He's gotten completely insolent: you suck wrong, you massage his balls wrong." — I swung. "Will this do?"
Mom came to her senses:
"Oh, you old dog! Got a thing for the young one!?"
The dog wasn't that old yet, so I helpfully handed her my crowbar. He howled when the soup spilled on him, and Mom started calming him down, stroking his head and arm with the iron bar. He didn't last long and jumped through the open window, right onto the frame of Dad's motorcycle.
The next day, Mom had already forgiven him because he was pitiful to look at: Mom felt sorry that he was lying all bandaged up, sprawled out and moaning, and I felt sorry that half his skeleton was still unbroken.
But the main thing happened—she kicked me out!
Valera came for me a week later. I didn't miss him much while waiting. I entertained myself as best I could. Those days passed, and I often scurried with a hot kettle to my room. Walking past the beloved breadwinner, I carefully swung the still-boiling kettle over him, remembering the last pair of panties. The ones I was wearing didn't count—I drenched them along with my jeans, and they wouldn't come clean. The little goat, with his antics, was aiming for the title of mountain goat, but he couldn't hop far. I held the kettle of boiling water over him and cooed:
"Don't make me laugh, mummy! Were you peeping while I was washing? Why are you twitching?"
I hoped he'd be confidently stuttering by the time my brother arrived. Finally, Valera came for me. He gave a couple of small bribes and quickly sorted out the paperwork. We were heading to paradise! Though, they wouldn't let us into paradise. I was in my only decent, but very short, skirt and without underwear (thanks to the breadwinner). I sat in the back seat and caught Valera's glances in the mirror. I didn't want to cover up. For the first time in my life, I felt pleased that someone would see me naked. It felt so awesome that I unbearably wanted to strip completely, and I knew—my brother wouldn't be angry. I only felt sorry for the car.
Valera had it like in a fairy tale—a palace (a two-room apartment on the second floor—cool!), a Prince (Valera), and an evil witch (his "beloved"). He immediately bought me a bunch of clothes without looking, gave me a room, and sent me to the bathroom. And right away, there was a mishap—I soaped my hair (I didn't know you didn't have to save water) and couldn't turn on the shower blindly. My eyes started burning, and I screamed (village girl!). Valerik burst into the bathroom and lifted the showerhead. When he rinsed the soap from my hair, I saw a puddle on the floor and how he was looking at me. I didn't think to cover up. "Let's collect the water," I suggested.
"I'll do it," replied my brother and brought a bucket and a rag. I stood and watched his strong hands. The thought of his wife, lying in the same hospital ward as my stepfather, came to mind.
"You know, lie down in the tub and rinse yourself, or I'll wring the rag outside the bucket."
I laughed and followed my brother's advice.
I immediately found a common language with Bastinda. She knew that I knew. One desperate girl—Svetka's cousin—saw her in the sauna. They had been entertaining some rich old man together about six months ago and still hadn't divided the fee. Svetka even suggested blackmailing her. The witch knew. So, she walked around me on her hind legs: coffee in bed, champagne in the bath, and cocoa with butter. But then my brother left on a business trip for a week. We saw him off, and I sat in front of the TV with a plate of salad. I got engrossed in the movie. Suddenly, I noticed she was looking at me strangely and smiling. I smiled back (because a smile makes everyone brighter).
"What are you grinning at, you scum? They're coming for you soon! Did you think I'd put up with you here? I sold you to the panel for a grand. Probably got used to sucking dirty dicks back in your village. Now it'll come in handy."
I remained silent in response and smiled. Then two "tough guys" entered the apartment. Back in our settlement, they'd be waking up Scar's dog with blowjobs.
"This one? Not bad!" — the skinny one with a nasty voice pulled out a syringe from somewhere.
"Wait, let's try her out first!"
"Let's go, whore!" — squeaked the first one and looked at me with disgust. I was choking with laughter.
"Hey, you said she was clean. For a junkie, it's a different deal!"
I stood up, put the plate on the table, and asked:
"What about for a virgin?"
They both stared at me and collapsed to the floor: only Scar didn't fall immediately from my blow to the bridge of his nose. I walked over to Bastinda and laid her on the floor with a jab under the ribs. There was no rope, so I had to gently help the boys with a stool. I called Svetka. The witch came to.
"Why aren't you grinning? They'll come for you soon too."
"Please don't, forgive me!"
"I'll forgive you! Once the whole settlement is satisfied with you—I'll forgive you right away!"
"Not to the settlement! Please don't!" — she sobbed hysterically.
Slowly, the tough guys started moving. The fag was whining, holding his head in his hands, and the second one rolled over to the little table and grabbed my fork. I sat on the pouf and watched as it slowly flew toward me. In that time, I managed to see the hope light up in the witch's eyes and how it died when that scrawny guy went headfirst into the wall. He lay chest-down on my spot and calmed down. An hour and a half later, two thugs and their sisters, Svetka and Vika, barged into the apartment. "Whoa! Come here, my dear!" — Vika recognized her old friend despite her tear-stained face. She pressed herself against the wall.
"Alright, guys. This is my gift to Scar. And if he's still pissed at me—I'll give him himself." — I pointed at the flying tough guy.
"Here's the payment." — Svetka put a small bottle of cola on the table. The witch found her voice, but they quickly shut her up.
"That's it, get out of here, and take their car. And don't forget—this one's for Scar."
I saw them out, locked the door, tidied up somehow, and blissfully sank into the bath. To avoid boredom for the week, I had to master the TV. A half-wall screen, awesome DVD player, a mountain of discs—and I fell out of reality. I didn't notice how seven days flew by. I opened the door for my brother, and he immediately sensed something was wrong.
"Where's Liliya?"
"You're 18 years old. At your age, they wouldn't even give Uncle Vasya's son a black beret. Spill it. Did you have a fight or something? Where did she go?"
I didn't know how to convince him. Calling or going to the settlement was out of the question—consider it a bust.
"I haven't been outside for a week. Let's go for a short walk, get some air."
"Only for you!"
I put on a skirt and a T-shirt. Another problem with panties—the ones Valera bought me were too big. Oh well—it's not winter. We went out into the yard. It was getting dark.
"Where's your park?"
"All sorts of riff-raff hang out there in the evenings."
"Are you scared? My protector!"
"Alright, let's go." There was no one in the park. Or near the park. We made a circle around the blocks. And there you go—we found some. Three guys were standing there, brazenly not bothering anyone.
"Valera, see those guys over there. Go beat them up."
"What for? They seem like normal guys."
"How long would it take you to make them fall? Be serious."
"I can't say for sure. About five seconds if they run, max. If they attack—one."
"Then stand still and don't move."__P_