Story

[Nunya]

Re: Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Shine_Eye_Girl</div><div class="ubbcode-body">Please don't do this to me..... </div></div>

I'm going to bed now.

[Nylah]

Re: Story


so you FINALLY obeyed the memo

[Nunya]

Re: Story

Mya awoke abruptly. She looked around, certain that something was amiss: she was either in the wrong place or... She sat up abruptly. It had come flooding back! She started to shake. The tremors began in her marrows and was emitted through her bones, her blood vessels, her nerve endings and her skin. Her teeth chattered and her lips trembled.

She tightly closed her eyes and pulled her legs beneath her. She was on the couch, curled up in the corner of it, her bathrobe and the cushions her only cover and buffers. She'd not been able to make it to bed last night. She'd not been able to do much.

The memory was coming back in waves. Some parts were replayed over and over, while others were hesitant in leaving their stamp. She was shaking her head, trying to dislodge everything, trying not to remember. But her body was having none of it.

Mya felt it now. The pain he'd inflicted. Her face and neck were sore and stiff, the small of her back ached and between her thighs felt bruised and fragile. She could feel where he'd used his forearm to press into the back of her neck, his elbow, digging into the side of her head. She remembered the last push he'd given her. His signal that he was done? Or his signal that she was not to move? In any event she hadn't. She'd stayed there. And stayed there.

Mya felt the pain where the fingers of his left hand had grabbed her hips and buttocks and adjusted her for his benefit. She now felt the lingering pain at his abrupt and brutal entry and the way he had sunk his fingers into her tender flesh as if he'd sought to get a handful of her while he'd taken her.

She wanted to take a shower, have a hot blast of water wash away his imprint and she jumped up to do so, almost falling over herself in her haste and with the unsteadiness of her legs.

But the door of the bathroom stopped her. And she found herself backing away, her fist pressed to her mouth as the horror replayed itself in living colour.

It was in there, in <span style="font-style: italic">here</span>, her home, her sanctuary, that he'd been. He'd taken her peace, her dignity, her sense of safety and most importantly, her sense of self. He'd come in, taken what he wanted and left her to clean up.

The enormity of what had happened overwhelmed her and her knees buckled. A loud laugh boomed from somewhere down the corridor and the power and volume of it loosened her bladder.

Mya could feel nothing but the warm liquid soaking through her robe, pooling on the tiles beneath her and she folded herself into it. She had never felt more alone.

[Shine_Eye_Girl]

Re: Story

Keep it coming

[Nanook]

Re: Story

Oh ALRIGHT! A Nunya story!!!!




Oh happy day!!!

[LiteBlonde]

Re: Story

WOW!!! OMG!!!

[R00TS]

Re: Story

Yes! the mood took you

Where does this take place Nunya?

Your mother ok?

[Nunya]

Re: Story

It starts out in Canada... don't know if it'll end here though...

And my mom's ok, thanks for asking.


Chapter II

Sargeant Paul Westcott was cruising around his beat on the bright sunny Saturday morning. His shift had begun at 3 am and now, glancing at the dashboard, he saw that he had four hours to go. He had done the requisites: scanned the plates of the vehicles at the motels and the apartment buildings on his beat. He'd noted which ones needed to be watched but so far no good hits. There were no previously flagged vehicles and he'd netted no speeders or other traffic violators. Nothing had come over the radio - no kids or drug addled deviants getting up to mischief. There were no grafiti or deliberately overturned trashcans. All in all it was a quiet morning and he felt in danger of falling asleep. Until he saw her.

She was trying to light a cigarette. Even from across the street, at the McDonald's parking lot where he sat in the cruiser watching nothing, he could see how badly her hands were shaking, the uncertainty of her dress, and the concentration on her face as she flicked the bic over and over again. He narrowed his eyes and watched her as she gripped the cigarette between the middle fingers of her left hand, the right holding onto the bic that she now pressed to stomach as she doubled over and grimaced. Sargeant Westcott grimaced too: what was wrong with these people? On a bright beautiful Saturday morning like this and it was obvious that she was either hungover, or high or something. His annoyance flickered, unlike the lighter that she was again attempting to use, and he watched her, his interest piked in spite of himself. Her distress did not seem wholly attributable to the malfunctioning lighter. Something was up, but he was unsure if it was worth his time to investigate. Then she flung the lighter in the street narrowly missing a passing motorist and begun to scream. He immediately put his lights on and nosed the cruiser out of the parking lot. She was oblivious to his approach and was now doubled over on the sidewalk, her screams somewhat muted but more terrifying for it. He wondered if he should radio for backup.

&quot;Ma'am?&quot; he approached cautiously. She was small framed and coffee-toned. Her hair was big, full and uneven. He didn't know if it had been combed or if that was the style. He didn't know much about these people. Her face was downcast and her slender fingers were clutching tightly the buttons of her shirt. They were pulled taut against her full breasts and he stared a beat longer than he should.

&quot;Ma'am!&quot; he said again, his voice more authoritative than before. She'd stopped screaming, but she remained doubled over. He saw her shoulders heaving and the thinness of them touched him.

&quot;Please stand up,&quot; he ordered, though he muted his tone for her compliance. He'd not unsnapped his holster, but he wanted to stay a safe distance in case she had a needle. She attempted to stand up and staggered and would have fallen if not for his quick reflexes.

[MsExced]

Re: Story

Sunday morning reading

[Jazz]

Re: Story

woo hoo!!!!! FINALLYYY

it's about dam time!!! **cutyeye**

I'm already hooked - hurry up wid de res

[QK13]

Re: Story



And don't go all Boundie pan wi neidah!!

[sistactry]

Re: Story

arrite Nunya,

[Nunya]

Re: Story

Hello everybody Please bear in mind that I cannot write from work. So I'll have to either do it before I leave in the mornings or when I get home.

So beg oonuu nuhbadda stawt nyam mi raw...

[Nunya]

Re: Story

Sargeant Westcott was only able to hold her for a second - he was <span style="font-style: italic">steadying</span> her, he told him himself - before she became like a cat and began to claw and flail and thrash. He stepped back in surprise and self-protection, this time his hand indeed going to and unsnapping his holster.

&quot;Ma'am? Ma'am!&quot; He held one hand out to keep her at bay, but now she was quiet - or at least the thrashing had stopped. &quot;You need to calm down.&quot; He finished. She stood before him, her head thrown back as she glared at him, her face filled with hate, her eyes glazed, her hands clenched in tight fists and her body shaking either with the attempt to contain herself or as a prelude to an eruption.

&quot;If you don't calm down, I will have to cuff you, do you understand?&quot; he asked, his voice loud. They were beginning to attract attention. Motorists were slowing down to have a look and was creating a traffic snarl. Pedestrians on the other side of the street had stopped and those on his side, were making a wide berth but only to find a safe distance so that they could stop and watch too.

She seemed to become aware of this, her eyes flickering about, their glazed expression dropping away. She opened her mouth to say something, but a croak came out. She swallowed and tried again.

&quot;I-I am fine,&quot; she muttered, sounding anything but. &quot;I'm fine.&quot;

&quot;Have you had anything to drink this morning? Last night perhaps?&quot; the policeman asked.

&quot;Wha..?&quot;

&quot;Have you had anything to drink?&quot; he asked again slowly.

&quot;Drink?&quot;

&quot;Ma'am, it is against the law to make a public nuisance of yourself.&quot;

&quot;Wha...?&quot;

&quot;I think you may be a danger to yourself and to others and I will have to take you in until such time as you've calmed down. Or maybe there is someone who could pick you up?&quot;

&quot;Wha...?&quot;

Sargeant Westcott sighed in exasperation. &quot;Do you understand English?&quot;

Mya stared at the policeman, noting his height, the width of his shoulders, the sinews of his forearms. For all she knew it could've been him. She glanced around, seeing the men, and male teens that stood and stared with the women and girls. Her hands went to her chest and folded defensively over her breasts. For all she knew it could've been anyone of them. The terror that she could even now be facing her attacker or that he could be nearby enjoying the show paralysed her and she froze, her expression becoming one of muted horror.

Sargeant Westcott swore beneath his breath. He didn't think she'd been drinking. There'd been no alcoholic odour on her. And though her pupils weren't dilated, he was pretty sure she wasn't high. Maybe she just didn't understand. But the police symbol was universal, so she should understand that he represented the law. Why these people come over without learning to speak English is beyond him. The government needed to get their heads out of the collective asses and make sure that these immigrants had even a first grade reading and speaking level English grasp! It would make everybody's life that much easier.

He put his hand out - palm facing her, again. He noticed her tensing. He hoped he wouldn't have to use his tazer. Everyone's been on edge with the whole tazer thing especially after what happened with the Pollack. Who's to tell: maybe someone even now, was filming all this. The thought sobered him up a little. He was not about to become undone by one little girl.

&quot;What is your name?&quot; he asked, slowly, his voice lowered.

Mya stared at him, her chest tight, the effort to breathe becoming a struggle. He was up to something. They all were. She was beginning to feel closed in and so took a step back.

&quot;Ma'am, please do not move. Please do not leave this area. If you do-&quot;

Mya bolted. She stumbled against the crack on the pavement, but quickly regained her footing and pushed through the fringes of onlookers. She heard someone swear: was it him, or was it someone who was [censored] that the show was over. The policeman did not seem inclined to let the show end, for he was speaking into his epaullette radio and scrambling to get into his car. She turned the corner sharply her eyes widely scanning all venues. There! She darted across the street, narrowly avoiding a smart car whose occupant cursed her smartly. There behind the dumpster of the Chinese restaurant! She would hide there.

[Shine_Eye_Girl]

Re: Story

mi nah read no more till ie finish