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Poena/Ms. Direction (Origen)

3970 Words | 0 |0.00

My brother’s working on better Origin Stories. For both of us, but for now, here’s the truth: #Cosplay #CrossDressing #Revenge #NoSex

I told dad that I was afraid to go out, because of the man who attacked all those women. I didn’t want to tell him the truth, because it made me feel so weak, small, and powerless.

Of course, I was a 10 year old, so what else could I be? He got me started on Self Defense classes, with mom, and that got me out of the house after school. We moved to this gated community, because it was a place for “Healthy Living.”

So, they had parks all over, and trails between the streets. For hiking, running, and even exercise stations set up to work-out. Mom lost a lot of weight, but the community had to pay for extra security, because of the attacks.

That’s what they called them, “Attacks,” or “Assaults,” when what they really ment was Rapes. Even the security cars driving around on patrols, and the cameras set up didn’t stop him, but meanwhile, the fighting didn’t stop.

I wasn’t just competitive, I was driven, and I hated to lose. So, I lashed out, violently, and basically cheated the “Medium Contact” rules in Kickboxing. We weren’t supposed to hurt each other, but as soon as I started losing, I stopped holding back. Pulling my punches until I had to be pulled off the other girls, bruised, and beaten.

It wasn’t competitive at all, I just didn’t want to lose again. That brought back the feelings I hated most of all, weak, powerless, and small. So, I stopped taking Muay Thai, and then this virus swept across the nation, so I had to give up BJJ as well when the classes stopped. Can’t really practice Social Distancing, and Grappling in the same room.

My brother turned 10, so I offered to teach him, for his birthday, but really, it was for me. To feel that rush of power, winning made me feel strong, and tall. Of course, I was 3 years older, so I was always taller, but he let me win. At some point, he fought back, as long as he could, but then he gave up, tapped out, and let me win when it was hopeless.

I felt cheated, and thought that I hated him, for a while. “You think you’re so smart?” Because he got straight As, in 5th grade, when my grades first started dropping, and I even failed. I guess, there’s also the coincidence that he was about the age I was, when I was attacked.

I felt so stupid, my grades dropping didn’t help, and having a gifted brother just turning 10 hurt even worse, but I wasn’t getting back at him. I couldn’t get back at Him, because I didn’t even know who He was. A man, but it was dark. I snuck out, for the last time, for years, but I couldn’t find my friends.

I couldn’t sleep, I wasn’t tired, so I got up, and snuck out. He caught me walking around the trails, but it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. He came prepared, wore a mask, and also had tape to put over my mouth, when he grabbed me from behind. He asked me, “Are you a slut, or a tease?”

He taped my hands together, but in front, so I could cover up my crotch. I shook my head, “Nw?” but every time, I tried to pull the tape off, he stopped me, and grabbed me between the legs.

“Oh come on. You didn’t come out here, dressed like that, unless you’re a slut, or a tease, so which is it? You want to get fucked, or just make men hard, and leave us with the blue balls?”


“Don’t lie to me!” He pushed me down on the grass, and pulled my tights down. Stuck his hand between my legs, and his fingers inside me. It hurt, and I tried to scream, but then he had to let me go, to pull his pants off. He brought a rubber too, and I just wanted to lie there, crying. Until I saw it, and he pushed me over to get in between my legs.

He had to spread them open, with both hands, which ment he couldn’t stop me from ripping the tape off my mouth, screaming “RAPE RAPE!” Then “FIRE!” Dogs started barking, and lights came on, so he had to pull his pants up and run, before he raped me, but he already broke me inside.

It was too late, for that. I wasn’t a virgin, I was bleeding, and it even soaked through my underwear to my tights before I got home, and climbed in the window.

I told Mom I got my period, and she got me maxi pads, but that’s what started my spiral down to depression, and also when the attacks began. I was his first victim, that I know about, but he must’ve been walking around the neighborhood for quite a while, before that. He had a mask, gloves, tape, and condoms. I was just the first one he caught out alone, but I wasn’t really his type.

He liked women, older women, but the kinds of young wives, and divorcees this neighborhood was designed for. Fit women, joggers, pilates, and yoga classes, massage therapists, and so on, and so forth. I didn’t understand it at the time, because I was so overwhelmed by the feelings that I couldn’t think.

So, I came up with a plan to outsmart my brother, and I tried to rape him. I didn’t even think that, consciously to myself, until he said it. “Don’t rape me,” he made me promise, but then he let me have rough sex with him. Hands tied up with my yoga pants stretched between my feet to hold them.

That made me feel so strong, and it gave me the most powerful orgasm I ever had in my whole life. It was almost Halloween, though. So, we dressed up as Batman, and Black Widow, mostly to make it easier for sneaking through the neighborhood, without being seen by Security.

Speaking of which, he figured it out, in record time. The reason why Security couldn’t catch him, he always cut the cables on cameras before he moved in, and by the time they responded, he was gone. Another victim left crying alone at home, and he always got away with it. He always attacked them at home, usually coming back late at night, but occasionally early in the morning when they were about to leave.

He pushed them back in, while the alarm was still disabled, overpowered them, and carried them back to their bedrooms. Taped them up, and raped them quickly, and then got away. Before security could find the right house, because He Was Security.

Of course, how could everyone be so stupid? That a 10 year old boy, no matter how bright, figured it out in 2 weeks when they never even got close, in 3 whole YEARS? He was clever, I guess. A little, I mean. I don’t want to give him any credit for what he’s done, but maybe he was just lucky that they decided to keep it in the neighborhood.

The Security Company, and not go public with it to the police, because this was supposed to be a Safe neighborhood, for healthy living. That’s why they had the Guard House, by the gates, and the cameras set up, so you’d see their car, but he didn’t drive a car, of course.

The problem was that by then, the list of suspects had grown. From the handful of guys that set up the system, and monitored it, to the Hundreds of guards the watched the gate, the cameras, and drove around in Security cars. On lockdown, the whole country was on lockdown, so unless you had a job that required you to go out, like a doctor. We had a lot of doctors, dentists, and physical therapists living there, they could go out.

My own dad was a Surgeon, but not one of those rock star brain, or thorasic surgeons. I don’t want you to think that he was ever that arrogant, self absorbed, and narcissistic, but he knew lead surgeons like that. He was still fairly young, and low down on the scrotum pole, so all the lives he’d saved hadn’t gone to his head, and given him a God Complex.

Why am I telling you all that? Because, I’m no detective, profiler, or abnormal psychologist. I have no training to diagnose that sort of psycho, the only reason I ever could is by Sympathizing with them.

I am one, a Power addict, only instead of the rush from saving lives, I get my fix from outsmarting, overpowering, and sexually dominating men like that. “You think you’re so smart?”

Well, how does it feel, to be beaten by a teenage girl?

Only 1 way to find out.


In Security (The PoV changes every chapter, even when the Narrator switches Alter Egos. Or Id, as the case may be…)

“Car 6, all clear.”

“Copy that.” I set down the radio, and settled back in my chair. Another quiet night, but you can’t watch every screen. You don’t have to, if I just let my focus back out, I catch nothing but the motion, out of peripheral vision.

It’s a quiet night, as always. Nothing but the Patrol cars, driving their regular rounds. Boring, but it pays well. Then, there was a knock on the door, and I looked over at that screen. The 2 dark figures there, in black dresses. One with a broad brimmed pointed hat.

“What the?” I got up, and pulled a paper mask out of the box, and unlocked the door. “You’re a little early for Halloween.” The witch, and a little girl. “What are you supposed to be?”

She held her hands up, to frame black arrows sewn into the black turtle neck. ()

“Miss Direction.” Over a padded bra, printed through the tight top. Black pleated skirt over black leggings, and black patent pleather boots, with knee pads. “I’m a super-hero.” i could even see her grin through the plain black face mask.

“Cute, but I don’t have any candy. In fact, we’re not going to have any next week, trick or treating is canceled. Shouldn’t you be wearing a mask?”

The witch pulled her hat off, and shook her head. “I just got tested, and they test you too, so I’m not worried about that.” She unzipped the front of her dress, and pulled out a phone. “Have I got a trick for you?”

She wasn’t wearing a bra, so I looked up from the inside bulges of bare pale breasts to look at the tiny screen she held up to me. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah?” Climbing up to adjust a camera, that got blown in the wind, or so I thought.

Ms. D smiled, and nodded. “I figured that you’d want it pointed back, in Mrs. Carruthers’ window. She never puts up blinds to work out, on the treadmill, the stair climber, and the Pilates machine.”

“What’s this about, me doing my job?”

“You don’t remember me.” The witch put her hand up, and tried to push me. “Well, it was dark, and a few years ago.”

“I didn’t even start working here, a few years ago.” I reached up to push her hand off my armor, then she grabbed my thumb.

“Uh!” Miss direction grabbed my elbow, and yelled “Don’t Scream!”

“Stop it, what do you think you’re doing?” The chair bumped my hip, and spun around, but between them, they managed to twist my arm, painfully behind me in a hammer lock. “Ah fuck, let go. Damnit!”

I reached for the radio, blindly with my head turned away, cheek up against one of the screens, but I only managed to knock it off the charger.

“On second thought.” The door slammed. “You can go ahead and scream.”


Poena (fM Dom)

I thought about Schadenfräulein. Too long. Then, I got out the Greek, and Latin/English dictionary, to make up my own word. The same way that medical, and psychological researchers made up names like Schizophrenia.

Poenaphilia, a paraphilia surrounded by Punishment, Revenge, Pain? Okay, but only to make him suffer for what he did to me. To make him confess his feelings for me, because men, like this. The last thing they want to talk about is their feelings, but we did a little research.

Named after Peona, pretty much the side-kick to Nemesis. I’m not stupid, it’s just hard to think when I’m overwhelmed by Rage. The problem is, he’s like a Power Assertive, Power Reassurance, AND Anger Retaliator all rolled into one. “How does it feel?”

“Wh, what?”

“That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? That’s why you target strong successful women, and overpower them?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Huh! You think that was me?” He tried to shake his head, but I just dug my thumbnail into his jaw, through the seam of my glove.

“Huh, you’re not bad looking, you know that? You work out, and you even pulled off that uniform.” Wanna be cop security guard uniform, because the only problem he has with Authority is never having enough.

I stuck my thumb behind his ear, and pried the elastic strap up over it. So it snapped off, and hung up against the blue glow of the surveillance screen.

“Huh,” I looked around for the back of Mrs. Carruther’s house. The sun porch, dark but you could still make out the shapes of the exercise equipment. “Help me get him up.”

My sidekick held his other arm, in both arms. Of course he’s strong, and even probably trained. Stronger than either of us, but there’s 2 of us, and we have the upper hand. I just have to keep a grip on his thumb, so he can’t twist out, without me twisting it back. Pain compliance.

Okay, I’m enjoying that too, but mostly it to Control him. “Look at it. Don’t bother trying to deny it, you pointed the camera back so you could watch her. There’s no other reason to have one of the trail cams pointing directly into someone’s house.”

My sidekick chuckled, then remembered to turn it into a cute giggle. Part of her persona. “That’s how we knew it was you, she’s your next victim, isn’t she?”

“No, I told you, you’ve got the wrong man.”

“Let me do the talking.” I turned back to his ear, and pulled the hanging mask off with my teeth. “Don’t make me hurt you, more. Don’t LIE!”

“NGH!” He grunted through his teeth, but he didn’t scream.

“To me.” I relaxed my grip, just enough to let his thumb bend back. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

That just leaves Anger-Excitation, out of the 4 Holmes and Holmes profiles of a serial sexual predator. Or sexually motivated serial killer, but he doesn’t kill them. That’s a sadist, bye the way. Anger-Excitation is the kind of guy that has a secret dungeon, and some way to get rid of the bodies, so he won’t get caught. BTK, Bind Torture Kill. That’s your poster child for Anger Excitation.

I should consider myself lucky, I wasn’t dumped in some river, and tortured to death, but I don’t.

“All right, all right. I don’t do that any more, is that what you want to hear?”

“No, you don’t because you can’t, and it must be driving you nuts. Huh? Sitting in here all night, and watching her home, asleep with her husband, happily married, and working out, every day. You’re locked down too. Aren’t you? You think that, you’re in control, because you hold the keys, but the truth is, this is just as much a prison for you, isn’t it?”

“No?” I let him shake his head, wincing, trying to shut it out of his head.

“Well, now. You’re locked in here with ME.”

“Me too!”

“Shut up!”

“Sorry.” I was trying to pull a Rorshach. He didn’t say you’re not locked up in here with us, he said ME.

It’s all about Me, and him. “Huh!” Breathe, take a deep breath, and breathe. “Huh!”

“I think, I remember you now.” He sniffed, but no tears. Not yet.

“You never forget your first?”

He laughed at me? “You’re not my first. The first one here, and yeah. Maybe my youngest, but you had to be what, eleven at the time?”

“I was 10. A ten year old you decided to rape.”

“I didn’t rape you.”

“No, but you tried, and you failed. Is that why you came back?”


“Because it was perfect. Wasn’t it? As if they made a perfect neighborhood for you, and they even invited you to set up the security. Make it safe, but they couldn’t make it safe for you, could they?”

“Those pampered bitches don’t deserve to be safe.”

I laughed, “Of course not.” Now that I’ve got him talking, I thought. In the moment if I agreed with him, he’d go on, but he shut up. So, I tried to empathize with him.

You know what? That’s their weakness. I know that, because I lost my empathy for a moment, and someone, I care about used it against me. Showed me the monster I was becoming, and saved me from myself. Honestly, but he’s too far gone.

He’s broken, if he ever had any empathy to begin with, it’s been shriveled up, and shat on so long, he doesn’t want to feel anything but superior. Powerful, strong, and in control.

“Huh, I felt safe here, until you opened my eyes. You made me see that, safety is what makes you weak. Helpless, and stupid. You made me, and now, I’m here to show you, exactly what you made.”

Shit, I’m monologing, and now I’ve said too much. The truth, I never wanted him to know the truth.

So, maybe some more pain will help him forget!


“Ms. Direction” (bfM CD)

It’s not about sex. I mean, of course, there sex involved, but if you think about it, sexual abuse and rape are really just using it as a Weapon. Like gun violence, or an ax murderer. The gun, or ax are just tools for the killing.

I often wonder now, if I was to kill someone, how would I do it? I won’t, I’m not a murderer, and neither is my sister. She wants him to suffer, but I think I can understand her.

Probably strangle them, even though I know I can’t. I’m not strong enough, even with a garotte, but if I did, then. It’s mostly just the most likely way to get away with it. If you shoot someone, then everyone for blocks around knows that a gun just went off.

Even if you use a silencer, I read somewhere that there’s no way to really Silence a gun, it’s more like a muffler, and besides. You’ve still got ballistics, but you can’t run ballistics on a smooth nylon monofilament.

There’s no blood neither, but the best part is, if you get it around their throat fast enough, they can’t scream. They can fight, even behind them, and if they’re as big, and strong as this time, they might even win, but I don’t want to kill anyone. Not even him, the man who tried to rape my sister, and so many women in the neighborhood, when he was trying to protect them.

You know, if you watch his eyes, you can tell when the Misdirection is working? Anyone, the audience, I’m starting to learn Palming, but that’s not as much as Misdirection, when it comes to pulling off the trick.

With her, unzipping that tight black dress, all it took was a little flash of breasts. Very little breasts, but then again, he has a type, and that isn’t it. He doesn’t like women, with big breasts, or otherwise, but he hates the ones with Power.

Not strength, the exercise, and fitness. I suppose makes them more attractive for their husbands, neighbors, and dates, but what do I know? Honestly, I’m still pretty sexless, but I like to think that Who they are is more important than What they look like.

She said he’s a pretty good looking guy, and I saw it in his eyes. He was surprised to hear that, but I already figured he wore a mask so he wouldn’t be recognized. He doesn’t have any obvious scars, I wouldn’t know what a good looking guy looks like, unless you told me. I can barely understand what makes a girl sexy, to look at.

Looks can be deceiving, though. You can’t look at someone, and tell they’re a monster, or becoming a monster. My sister, I never saw what she was turning into, training up for, because honestly, it’s unthinkable. I even looked it up, or tried to. There’s no research on female rapists, I don’t think that the police, FBI, and psychiatric community believes they exist, but she can’t be the only one.

Ever, Anger Retaliatory, though. This is about revenge, but I’m not naiïve enough to think that this is it. She’s going to get Closure, and then be all better. Go back to being the girl she was before he took her virginity, and her innocence.

She made her, this way, but I’m not even trying to stop her. Control her? Maybe enough to keep her from going too far, losing it, and getting caught. Help her?

Yes, please? I jumped at the chance to be a part of this, but also I don’t want her to get caught. I guess I can protect her from the cops, just this once, but I’m getting something out of it, too. Experience, how else is a 10 year old going to get a chance to take down a certifiable monster? How do you even find one? Look around for a serial rapist?

The cops did that, and he helped them look. He doesn’t look like a serial rapist, he looks like a Security Guard, one of hundreds now that the company is trying it’s best to keep this neighborhood safe, and taking credit for it too.

You know what stopped him? Her husband, Mr. Caruthers. The virus, because now he’s home all the time, and that made him wait. Watch, and wait, but now that he’s on target, he’s not going to be satisfied with anyone else, and he knows it.

5 women, and 1 girl we know about, but that’s the only question, I have to ask. I can wait too, I’m just as patient, and honestly, Reg. Uh, Poena. She’s having such a good time, and doing so well that I can just watch, and enjoy it. I still don’t know what makes her different, from all those other women, and girls, getting assaulted, molested, and raped every day. I don’t know what made her chose to fight back, so I can’t come up with a believable origin story, but every second I learn something new, that just might help.

She’s playing him, like a fiddle. She knows him, better than anyone else, even though they hardly met once, and he wouldn’t even let her say No out loud. She became like him, bye choice. She decided, all on her own that there’s 2 kinds of people. Of course, that’s a false dichotomy, but after 3 years of training, and thinking about nothing else, there’s only 2 she cares about, now.

And she didn’t like being the victim.



I forgot to put the right Story Tags on the first draft. Hopefully, whoever proofreads these will catch it, but I’m starting over where they left-off. Mostly so you can skip the boring exposition/back story, and get right into the action, if you like…

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