Piper (Managing Mischief Book 1)

by Emma Luna

  He crawls onto the bed on all fours until he is directly in front of my soaking pussy. I don’t stop my finger from pistoning in and out because he looks almost hypnotised by the motion. He leans down so his head is right between my thighs, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath hitting my already sensitive clit. It causes sensations to ripple over my body and I moan with a desperation that tells Ollie I need him to touch me. I expect him to reach his tongue out and join my hand, but instead, he reaches up with his hand and wraps his palm around my wrist, holding me still to prevent my finger from entering me any more.

  A growl of frustration rips out of my throat and Ollie, the bastard, just chuckles like he’s enjoying torturing me. Instead, he pulls my hand over to his mouth and begins sucking on my fingers, tasting me on my own skin. He licks and sucks on my digits with a passion, like they’re the greatest thing he’s ever tasted, all the while he stares up at me through heady-lidded sex eyes. Fuck, does he look hot. When he’s like this, he looks like he could take on the world and I love it, but I need more.

  “Stop fucking torturing me, Ollie. Touch me,” I shout and he giggles. Ironically, as I mention the word torture, a very pale and broken looking Chance emits a small cry. He is nowhere near as loud as he was at the beginning and his voice is hoarse from all the shouting. He seems so small and helpless, but that makes me smile. As he grows weaker, my rats grow stronger. Some may call it torture, but I call it survival.

  Being able to provide for my family is something that I have strived for since we first met and I could barely take care of myself. From the first moment I learnt about how I could provide for my family, and give me a chance to take back the control I so desperately craved, I jumped at the opportunity.

  Sitting in my shithole of a hostel room has been pretty much the only thing I have done for the last six months. After the ER nurse got me out of my mum’s house and into this facility, she called Mrs. Ludley. Obviously, as I was only sixteen and still in my final GCSE year, I couldn’t just drop out of school, no matter how much I might have wanted to. But, I couldn’t risk going back to the school because Mum and Martin knew that is where I would be. I don’t even know if she would come looking for me, but I didn’t want to take that risk and so I had to put my trust in the only adult I knew who was ever honest with me.

  “I’m not letting you drop out of school, Piper. You have such a bright future ahead of you,” Mrs. Ludley said to me one night as we sat in the tiny box room surrounded by the sounds of the other residents. I had to laugh at her comment. How the fuck could she think I have a bright future ahead of me when we are literally sat in a shit hole? There is mould crawling up the far wall, steel bars across the lone window, and the smell of weed permeates through the whole building. Not to mention the constant sounds of music, swearing, and sex that is ever present, whether day or night. Clearly, my ‘look on the bright side of life’ teacher is choosing to ignore all of these things.

  “I can’t go back to school. They can find me there. They will make me go home and I am never going back there,” I shout back, using a much louder and angrier tone than she deserves.

  Picking invisible lint off her immaculately ironed black trousers, she doesn’t even look phased by my outburst. Instead, she very gently reaches over and places her hand over mine. Initially, as her skin touches mine, I can’t help but flinch. The last human contact that I had was a hospital assessment and the time before that is one I am deliberately blocking out of my memories. But she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she gently strokes her thumb over my hand. It causes a deep sadness that I never realised I was capable of when the unexpected thought flashes into my mind telling me that this is what a real mum does. This is the type of behaviour, the type of care, a real mum should show her daughter in general, never mind after going through something that I went through. I pull back the tears that burn in my eyes, knowing I will never let them fall again.

  Together, myself and Mrs. Ludley, come up with a plan where I can study from home; she even sets me up with a computer to do it. I just have to promise that I will get a job to help support myself, and attend the school for my exams. I quickly agree and life in the hostel becomes mundane almost. I do my school work during the day, work at a coffee shop on the weekend and on my days off. Other than that, I keep myself to myself, and my hoodie and Netflix became my best friend, until the day I met Reggie. After that, I spent all of my time looking after him. Bathing him, feeding him, buying a cage and exercise equipment for him. But mostly, I spent a lot of time talking to him. He became my confidante. He was there in the middle of the night when I would wake up in a cold sweat, having nightmares of being pinned down, and that arsehole’s stale breath. Reggie was there to calm me down. He was also there when my plan came to fruition.

  “Piper, I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, love. The police came to the school today looking for you. I told them I am your guardian, showed them the signed paperwork we drew up. That was enough for them to tell me this. I am sorry to tell you this, but your mother was found dead yesterday. Apparently, she overdosed and was unable to be revived when found,” Mrs. Ludley says calmly over the phone. The silence that follows is deafening. I know, at first, she is waiting for me to respond, or giving me time to process, but honestly, I just don’t know what to say.

  “Piper... Piper… Are you okay?” she shouts more forcefully down the phone.

  “Erm… yeah, I’m fine.”

  “I just told you that your mum is dead, Piper. Of course it’s okay if you are not fine,” she replies, sounding a bit worried at my response.

  “I know that. I just don’t really care. Honestly, I knew that this would be how things would end, I was expecting it a long time ago. She has never been much of a mum to me. Why should I mourn for her in a way she doesn’t deserve?” I say, sounding a lot older than I probably should do.

  After a long reassuring discussion, I make sure that she knows I am not about to break down. I have spent the last eight months learning how to mask and eventually stop feeling my emotions all together. I really don’t care that she is dead. What pisses me off is when I find out, a few days later, that Martin has been having whores around to the house that technically belonged to my mother, and now me.

  My mother inherited the house off her parents, and the fact we owned the house is the only reason we never became homeless throughout my childhood. Now that she is dead, the house should be mine. Not that I would ever live in that fucking cesspit, but I would sell it and use the money to get away from this place. So, to find out that my mother isn’t even buried yet and he is using the house as his own personal brothel really does take the piss! As I am telling Reggie about the injustice of it all, a TV show in the background springs up a very exciting idea.

  After months of preparation and planning, tonight is the night that I am finally going to get my revenge. Walking down the drive of my old childhood home, I ignore the feelings of revulsion and fear that try to overwhelm me as I finally face my demons. I knock on the door with confidence, holding my head up high.

  The door swings open and a swaggering Martin leans up against the door frame, beady eyes leering at me. His mouth turns up into a vicious looking grin, but all I can see are the few rotten teeth that are remaining. Yellow stained fingers reach up and stroke across his stubbly, grease filled beard.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t the little bitch. I take it you heard that your crack whore of a mother died,” he slurs in his constant mix of drunken language and sheer unintelligence.

  “So I heard. What I want to know is why you are still living in my house?” I ask cockily. He bends over, laughing out loud, as though what I said is quite literally the funniest thing he has ever heard.

  “This house doesn’t belong to you, bitch. You left. It is mine!” he growls. Exactly what I was expecting him to say. I slump over, looking exhausted.

  “Please, I need somewhere to live,” I cry.

  “Well, maybe if you are really nice
to me, we can sort something out,” he purrs, taking hold of my hand and pulling me into the living room. I look around and don’t even recognise this place. Mum wasn’t exactly a model housewife, but at least when I lived here, it didn’t look like an actual dump. There are take-out boxes everywhere, old newspapers, and rubbish bags over-flowing everywhere. Not to mention all the booze bottles and drug paraphernalia that is littered around. If I get out of this place without catching fucking hepatitis, it will be a miracle.

  I follow him in, careful that he doesn’t see the look of judgement and disgust that I am sure is evident on my face. When he does look at me, I fake a smile.

  “Why don’t you sit and I will get us a drink. We can talk business better with a drink,” I say, trying to sound a lot sexier than I am feeling. Of course, he doesn’t hesitate in taking me up on the offer. He also pays no attention to the little added extra that I add into his glass of whiskey. He downs it straight away and I knew I didn’t have to worry about him tasting the extra additive. I think he stopped actually being able to taste the alcohol years ago! It doesn’t take long for him to pass out and now I can really get to work.

  When Martin wakes up half an hour later, he is not at all pleased to see that he is tied down to my mother’s bed, covered in ropes and in nothing but his underpants. As he looks around, he sees the equipment that I have brought with me and he pulls against the ties.

  “What the fuck, bitch? Why am I tied to this fucking bed, you little cunt? I do not enjoy this type of kinky game, I have the power. Now, untie me,” he yells and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Oh, yeah. You really look like you have all the power,” I reply sarcastically and this causes the twatwaffle to thrash about even further, as I laugh. “This is definitely not a sex game.”

  “Then what the hell is it?”

  “Revenge!” I state proudly.

  The time for talking is over, and no matter what questions he asks, I ignore him. I don’t give a shit what he has to say. Instead, I spend my time concentrating on setting up my revenge because, if truth be told, I have no fucking clue what I am doing. But Reggie is with me and together, we will take back the power that Martin stole from me.

  Taking the metal bucket that I bought from the local hardware store, I tie it to his stomach as loosely as I can. Then, removing them one by one from the cage I brought them in, I place the rats under the bucket.

  Initially, I had thought about just using Reggie, but all of the research I did showed that you needed a few rats. I spent weeks collecting the rats from all over the hostel, I was expecting them to be a lot easier to come by after Reggie just walked into my room, but they weren’t.

  Once I finally had them all collected, it was necessary for me to keep them all locked up separately and starving. That was the hardest part for me. I needed to provide for them, particularly for Reggie. He had come to rely on me and hearing his squeals and squeaks of hunger, and his scratching at the cage wall as he desperately tries to claw his way free, was like torture. A part of me died, hearing him like that, but I know he supports me.

  Making sure all the rats get under the bucket on Martin’s stomach is not easy. They are running around trying to escape and I realise I need to work fast. I throw them in with as much speed and care as I can before tying the bucket down securely. I ignore his cries for answers and his empty threats. He has no idea what is going to happen.

  I hear the increasing sounds of the rats as they rummage around in the bucket, desperately trying to find a way out. Pretty soon, they will realise that there is only one way out and I intend to help light up the way.

  Leaning down I pick up the culinary blow torch from my bag and turn on the heavy bass music. I know the neighbours won't report the noise because this is a constant around here. In fact, I think that since my mother died, it has probably been quieter since they haven't had to put up with listening to him beat the shit out of her. Martin’s eyes, as he realises what I have in my hand, is a picture. His eyes pop out of his head and if he could move even an inch, then he would. Instead, he takes the only available option, which is to scream. I can’t help but laugh.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Martin screams in a high pitch voice that should be very humiliating for him. He sure appears to have sobered up, probably for the first time in around ten years.

  “I am taking back the power that you seem to think you have. And I plan on getting my revenge at the same time,” I spit, laughing as I watch the tears flow down his cheeks.

  “All of this because you regret letting me wet my dick with your pussy?”

  SMACK! I can’t hold back the anger as I hit him over the head with the canister of the blow torch. Blood spurts out of his head and his answering cry is music to my ears.

  “You raped me, you arsehole. So yes, this is because I am getting my revenge.”

  “What the hell do rats have to do with it?” he asks in between sobs as the squeaks from my rats become louder, they are scratching at the sides of the bucket and I know that their sharp claws must be cutting at his skin, but nowhere near enough.

  “Did you know that when rats are trapped, they will take the easiest way out? Their instinct for survival is amazing. At the moment, they think that moving the bucket is the best way out, but as soon as I turn this heat gun on and blast it onto the bucket, heating it up, there will only be one safe way out for them. I will give you one guess as to where that is,” I add sarcastically. Martin, for the first time in the entire time that I have known him, didn’t have a sarcastic comeback. His sobs and whimpers are the only sounds that could be heard. So, I decide rather than waiting for his answer, it’s better to show him.

  Turning the blow torch canister on, I aim the flame at the base of the metal bucket, before spraying it all over the side of the bucket. The heat from the flames takes a while to warm up the bucket, but as it does, my plan comes to fruition. The rats become desperate and take the only route out that they possibly can, nibbling and biting their way through his disgusting flesh.

  The sound of Martins cries ricochet through the room and is like music to my ears. He took pleasure when he ignored my cries and now I do the same for him. It takes a lot longer for him to lose consciousness than I am expecting, and when he wakes back up for the first time, it really does scare the shit out of me. I thought he would die a lot easier than this, but I guess this has been used throughout history as a torture method for a reason. Now I can see why. It is slow and painful. As the light drains from his face, I feel a power seep into my body. Hearing the squeals of my rats being replaced by the sated sound they leave behind when they have had their fill is heartwarming. I realised that although we decided to do this for me, Reggie got something amazing out of this too. He has been living off of scraps and leftovers before he met me and even when I found him, I haven't been capable of giving him the life that he deserves. But now I have been able to give him the most amazing gift, a meal so satisfying, it should last for weeks.

  I also can’t deny the effect this whole experience has had on me. I knew that taking the power back from this arsehole was what I needed to get over the trauma I experienced. But watching the life leave his eyes, and knowing that I was responsible was a whole different experience. I didn’t feel guilty or even like I had been responsible for a murder. What I did was so much more than that. I felt a power and a confidence that I hadn’t felt before in my life. This was a defining moment in my life. This was the day that I stopped being a kid and I became a woman. I took pleasure from the pain that I inflicted on Martin.

  Although I was a virgin at the time of Martin’s assault, I wasn’t completely inexperienced. I knew how to give myself pleasure and I knew what kind of things it was that turned me on. I had fooled about with a few boys in the past, but it had never gone all the way, and since they were your typical teenage boys, it had been more a rough fumble than a practiced act. They were lucky they could find my slit in my panties, let alone identifying which part of me was my clit
. I had found that all on my own. But since the day with Martin, I had no sexual desire at all. It was understandable, of course, but I wasn’t happy about it. He had taken so much from me and I hated every little thing that he stole, but I just didn’t know what to do about it. Mrs. Ludley said that counselling would help but fuck if I was going to open up to a stranger. So I accepted that this was my life and since I didn’t plan on letting another man near me ever again, I guess I could live without it.

  But all that changed tonight. As Martin dies, for the first time since the assault, I felt my pussy begin to tingle and start to get wet again. I felt pleasure and lust again. I knew that if I reached into my panties, I would be able to orgasm, but I didn’t want to do it in this disgusting place. I knew that when I got home, I would be able to. And it was all because of Reggie and the fact he helped me to take back the power!

  I knew then that what had occurred tonight couldn’t just be a one off. How could it when it was so beneficial for us all? Obviously, I planned on going to University soon and I wouldn’t be able to keep all the rats, but as soon as I can, I plan on adopting as many of them into my mischief as I can. Until then, it’s just me and Reggie against the world. Giving us plenty of time to refine our techniques because this wasn’t perfect. It took too long for the bucket to heat up, I struggled moving Martin’s big lump of a body, and trying to get all the rats into the bucket whilst the others tried to escape was like a comedy sketch. My biggest problem was moving his body around afterwards, cleaning up, and making it look like a suicide.

  I knew that Martin wouldn’t have any visitors for days. I had been watching for a few days beforehand and he got his delivery that morning, which is why I knew it was the perfect time to strike. Not only would he be off his head with more heroin than he knows what to do with, but he also wouldn’t be expecting any visitors for a good few days. Everyone knew by now that when he and Mum got a delivery, you left them alone. Usually, after about three or four days, you would get people coming around again. Typically, it would be johns who my mum would fuck to make more money for the next go around. Now, Martin had some new bitches working for him, but they knew when to leave him alone and that worked perfectly for me.