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Archive name: Souvenir.txt  (mf,rp)
Authors name: mandible <mandible@deaths.door>
Story Title : A SOUVENIR OF WAR

--------------------------------------------------------

A SOUVENIR OF WAR
BY mandible

	I'd heard about the rapist; that's why I had my
 dad's war souvenir with me that night. But I didn't
 really expect to need it. I'd been carrying it every
 day since the second rape.

	Dad called it 'the equalizer,' and Mom couldn't
 stand the sight of it. She made him lock it up; but he
 slipped it to me before I left for college. "You might
 need it," he'd whispered. "Some of those athletes don't
 know what 'stop' means." I'd ruffled what was left of
 his hair and told him I could take care of myself.

	I wasn't so sure when the creep stepped out in
 front of me. I mentally kicked myself about a hundred
 times. Personally I don't think I'm all that hot look-
 ing, but I had a friend who used to go on about breast
 to height ratios and buttock roundness and symmetry
 and how it related to making guys hot. She claimed my
 ratios were just over the 'hot' line, and that most
 guys would rather do me than a skinny moviestar. Anyway
 I'm 5'2, brunette, and young, and I date whenever I
 want.

	I'm rape bait, and I had dangled myself without
 a damn thought.  Suddenly there were dark empty class-
 room buildings between me and the lighted road, and my
 short cut had gone sour. He held up his switchblade;
 the same narrow blond clean-shaven face the other girls
 had described grinned nastily at me.

	"Not a word, sister. One scream and you're wear-
 in' scars." He'd cut the first girl across the face
 when she screamed; the others had been quiet. I didn't
 like his looks, but I had to try.

	"You don't want to do this," I told him softly.
 "It's not too late for you to stop."

	He snickered. "Step back here in the shadows,"
 he ordered, gesturing with the knife. I sighed and
 obeyed, mentally saying goodbye to the cold beers and
 warm friends waiting half a mile away. "Get the shirt
 off, bitch." He put the knife up to my throat.

	I backed away and began slowly teasing up the
 edges of my shirt. He stayed back, grinning that nasty
 grin. He wasn't a nice man. "You'll regret this, man,"
 I whispered fiercely. "My dad will hunt you down.
 Probably skin you out for a trophy." The shirt came up
 over my braless tits; the night air felt good and cool.
 Probably I should strip in public more often, I thought
 wildly.

	His free hand came out and grabbed my right tit,
 squeezing roughly, then pinching the nipple. "You've
 got lousy technique," I hissed. "Don't pinch it off,
 appreciate it. Don't you ever date normally? You're not
 ugly, what's your problem?" He slapped me, then grabbed
 my other tit. A real tit man.

	"You've got the problem, not me, bitch. You all
 think you're so damn hot, turning up your nose at us
 all -"

	"Excuse me, have you ever asked me for a date
 and been turned down? I'll go out to lunch with anyone.
 Hell, I went to the show with my German teacher, well,
 after I passed his class, ya know." I glared at him,
 hands on hips and freshly pinched nipples sticking out.
 Probably looked pretty hot, as I look back. He actually
 looked shocked; I could see him wince. But I was too
 naked and he couldn't stop. His knife poked at me
 again.

	"Get the skirt off too, and the panties. You're
 the hottest girl on this campus." He grinned tightly.
 We could see each other faintly in the streetlights
 glow; to a passer-by we were in deep shadow. I stripped
 slowly, realizing I was enjoying watching his face
 change. He looked for a moment the way any man does
 when a woman strips for him. I felt sorry for him, for
 a moment, the way he'd felt sorry for me. I could smell
 dirt, like an open grave.

	"Look," I said, "you've had your feel and your
 strip-show, now let me go. You're some woman's son,
 somebody's brother or cousin. You've only scratched and
 raped, not killed. Stop while you can. Have pity on me,
 man, I haven't done anything to you. I promise you,
 you'll regret doing this for the rest of your life."
 
	He glared at me, then stepped up and pushed me
 to my knees. He unzipped and yanked out his cock.
 Pretty small, for a man his size, but big for little
 me. He waved the knife; uncertainly I knelt and opened
 my mouth. He jammed his cock in and moaned, then pulled
 it back out, grazing my sharp little teeth. He pumped a
 few times, then pulled out and slapped my face. "Use
 your lips, bitch, you're bitin' me!" He pushed it back
 in and I gaped, lips back over my teeth and eyes open
 wide. He still grazed against my teeth, and he pulled
 my head back and began to slap me.

	I ducked and cried and struggled. "I can't open
 any wider! I'm just a little girl, and I've never done
 that. You're too big, mister!" I thought of the huge
 knob on the end of my friend Jesse's eight-inch cock,
 and how easily that fit in my mouth. You're just not
 big enough, mister.

	He stopped with his hand poised to slap, then
 stepped back and dropped his pants around his ankles.
 He sneered at me as he shoved me back, pinning my legs
 apart as he pointed the knife. "Don't do it, mister.
 I'm warning you!" I cried as he began rubbing his cock
 on my pussy. I was wet already from stripping, and he
 had the head of his cock inside me in short order. With
 a grunt he drove it in deep.

	As he froze in horror I slapped the knife from
 his paralyzed hand. His face went white; he made a tiny
 wail as he pulled his ruined cock out of me. It was
 sliced down the middle into four sections and spouting
 blood. He stared in horror, making an awful a-a-a-a
 noise.

	"Squeeze it VERY tight," I advised. "Otherwise
 it'll retract and you'll, oops. Well, guess you'll
 bleed to death. Told you you'd regret it, the rest of
 your life." I was gathering my clothes and purse in
 horrible haste; he was on his knees clutching his groin
 in a pool of blood. His screams were getting louder; I
 dressed on the run. I had my skirt on and was strug-
 gling with the shirt when he stood up in the bushes and
 screamed.

	"You've ruined me, bitch!" He came around the
 bushes, bareassed and barehanded, and with blood spray-
 ing. I ran, topless and jiggling, with him behind me
 for a few steps. I heard him fall and ran on a little
 ways, looking back to see him kicking on the ground.

	"Twas beauty killed the beast," I called back to
 him as I got the shirt on and ran out into the well-
 lighted roadway. I crossed at the light and ran to the
 bar on the corner.

	Jesse and Fran and Bill were sitting at a table
 in the back. I waved and went straight in the bathroom.
 I went in a stall and vomited, hard. Green bile came up
 and I saw stars. Tasted better than the creep's cock
 had. I sat on the stool and pulled one leg up, reaching
 in deep between my legs to bring out Dad's war
 souvenir. I washed it in the sink, several times, very
 carefully, and put it in my purse. I washed the blood
 from my thighs and tried to make my face normal. Didn't
 work, because when I sat next to Jesse, he squinted at
 me and asked quickly, "What's wrong?"

	I took his drink from his hand and drained it.
 "I just met the campus rapist . . . and I think I
 killed him. Be very cool and don't start yelling. You
 too, Bill." Fran grabbed my arm and asked if I was, you
 know, all right. I drained her drink, too.

	"Killed him?" breathed Jesse. "How? Kung Fu?"

	So I brought out Dad's war souvenir and quietly
 showed it to my friends, passing it under the table
 there in the bar. It's a homemade, well-crafted piece,
 like a big hollow dildo two inches long made of
 polished and lacquered bamboo. Inside are two razor
 blades, crossing each other. "It's a whore's trick. If
 you don't pay once, next time watch out." The rapist's
 penis had entered the hollow of the device as it rode
 inside my vaginal canal and encountered the crossed
 razors. I put it away and we drank several rounds of
 Bloody Marys in his memory.

	When we left the bar an hour later there were
 flashlights around the bushes across the street, and a
 police cruiser came whizzing up with its blue lights
 on. We mingled with the curious crowds, staggered away
 and went on with our lives.

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