Walter Neil was always looking for a little bit of blood. Everyone was, but he felt a deeper excitement about it than most. The local big league Roller Derby was too squeamish for him. They had broadcast regulations to think about. He preferred the minor league, the training ground for the stars and the temporary stomping ground for the real bruisers. The amateurs were sloppy, they made the kind of mistakes that would cost them bits of the slippery red juice. Skaters either proved themselves and moved on to the televised version, injured themselves out of the entire sport, or if they were particularly vicious, disappeared the next week. Maybe they were expelled for their sadism, he didn't know for sure. He simply didn't see them the anymore.
He wasn't the only one that brought a camera, but he could tell by the flashes and the looks of the others that they didn't know real meat of the match. It wasn't just in the spills and wipeouts. The entire gamut of emotion played out on the girl's faces during the match. Agony, anger, triumph, and this other emotion he watched so intently for. The blood brought it out. The faces became more animal like. It was like watching a child torture a frog. A tiny smirk and then the eyes lit up as the more reptile part of the brain took over. There was beauty in cruelty. He would get to see it maybe twice off any one girl if he was lucky and not fiddling with the dials of his camera. She'd wouldn't be back the next week. Maybe it scarred her away and sent her running from her own true nature.
But Stagger Hardly was different. His passion had grown for the sport in the past few weeks to a fever pitch as he watched her unleash her girlish smiles after an ever increasing amount of dirty tricks and rotten no good injuries on the other players. She didn't seem to be getting scarred away at all. Her cruelty was beginning to swell like a sponge dinosaur in a glass of water. The edges of it were getting bloated and ugly and soon the glass would have to break. He wanted to capture every moment of it. His regular album of photographs was neglected and a new album, exclusively of her exploits, had taken over. He daydreamed of her crashing her body into the people around him; breaking the spirits of his coworkers, slamming the waitress at the Thirsty Kettle into the plate of eggs she was bringing out for the overweight trucker in the booth next to his, he thought of her elbowing Elizabeth as she came out of the shower to lay to next to him.
Small fast girls and big tank like amazons were the regular types to draw attention; (Everyone loves a good David and Goliath story) but Stagger was only slightly above average size for a woman, and below average size if she'd been a man. Short black hair neatly tucked into the helmet on top of an angular face, smooth pale white skin, baby fat still around the arm muscles. Walter Neil was a breast man, he never even tried to make it with a chick unless she had a D-cup, but he stared intently at Stagger's slight bees as they swayed beneath her shirt. She didn't wear a bra.
That Friday night, he sat in his usual spot. Elizabeth had quit coming to the matches with him when his greedy eyes started fixing themselves so exclusively on Stagger. She was correct in being jealous, but in hindsight now, vacating and ignoring what was happening may have been a mistake: if not for her, then at least for Walter. Poor Walter.
The match against the Fifth Street Skaters and The Ladies of the Wheel went pretty normal at first. Low scoring jams, big pile ups, and only the occasional moments of victory. The main Fifth Street Jammer: Faith Snow Muse, a tiny super fast dyke most likely headed for the big show, didn't seem to be able to get past the latest bruiser on the Ladies rooster. That bruiser, that six foot two Bloody Mess, plowed out entire clumps of blockers and left havoc on the track that kept tripping Faith up, sending her on collision courses through the only gaps and into the behemoth blocker's hard checking hips. Frustration was settling in. Stagger spent the first couple of jams in the penalty box after a couple of mean spirited chicken wings into Bloody Mess's face. Fifth Street was adding up to be the place to get noticed, but the Ladies of the Wheel had done their homework. In the second half, the score looked like a long overdue ass beating was finally being spanked into the firm butts of the Fifth Street Skaters.
All the skaters got into position. Stagger at the last moment gave the pivot rag from her helmet to a young black girl who had only started playing the week before. She filed back in the ranks next to Bloody Mess. The large women stared down her mean crooked nose directly at Stagger. Her eyes narrowed. Stagger turned her head, smiled, and stuck her small pink tongue out. Walter felt his heart skip and a yearn build up in him. His dick twitched, decided it wouldn't have enough room and purred slightly in his jeans. The whistle blew and the blockers and pivots took off.
Stagger Hardly checked Bloody Mess with her bony hip into her ass cheek. The frustration was evident on Bloody's face. That check hurt. Bloody Mess came around the third turn too eager and the Fifth Street jammer took the lead through the entire pack. She wasn't out for the jammer, she wanted to flatten Stagger. Hatred was evident. Stagger was glowing with pleasure as her elbows slipped in between the giant's arms and against her ribs. Then on the fourth turn, Stagger side skated to the outside and Bloody Mess lost momentum as she crushed into her own pivot. The pivots legs gave out and she brought down Bloody Mess and a few other unfortunate blockers from her own team. Stagger kicked off for the pack of wreckage cutting across the corner for a direct line to the fallen Bloody Mess. Bloody Mess's face slipped into a solemn defeat. She had been baited and cost the jam for her team. She was most likely going to forget about the vendetta she built up against Stagger; but Stagger balled up tight and continued course. Two aluminum backed speed wheels ran across the hand Bloody Mess was propping herself back up with. Fingers out: what an amateur. As Bloody Mess stared down at the severed digits, her face became a cry of agony. For a second she didn't cry out. She lifted her head to see Stagger skating off into the pack. Stagger spun around skating backwards, flipping a double bird as the woman's face contorted and finally let out a shriek of pain. A whistle blew, the entire match was getting called off. Walter was okay with that, he had speed shot his entire roll of film on that moment and could feel a bulge building to embarrassing proportions. Cups and nachos flew through the air showering Stagger. Her head leaned sideways like she was enjoying the boos. She seemed to be in a moment of ecstasy. Her tight uniform became stained with greasy orange cheese and the beer soaked shirt stuck tightly to her unburdened breasts, then she skated the rest of the way into the back.
Walter was at a loss. He kept replaying the moment in his head. It was a pinnacle of beauty for an already beautiful woman. He hurried home to develop the rolls of film. His hard on hadn't died down at all. It actually hurt a little. He'd need relief...soon. Maybe while the rolls developed he could crank one off, but he knew he'd want to crank it again when the roll came out and the big pop might be better if he waited for that. But he didn't get to masturbate at all that night. When he got to the door, Elizabeth was waiting.
"Derby over already?" she called out to him before he even got to the door.
"Yeah, gonna go develop these rolls," he was flustered a bit and fumbled with the key in the door.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm..."
"Was Stagger there again tonight?" Elizabeth teased, a slight tinged of jealousy fueled her voice but it was still a friendly tease. Walter started getting noticeably red. She eased her hand over his and guided the key in.
The room was dark, musty and smelled like stale cigarettes. Elizabeth dragged Walter into the bedroom. She didn't give him time to hit any of the lights and his feet kept tripping up on his messy housekeeping. Her checks were red with joy and a little devious smile hinted across her face when she flipped the light switch in the bedroom. "I wanna show you something...I got it just for you." She pushed him hard onto the bed. He lifted himself back up a little by propping his upper body with his elbows behind him. Elizabeth was a pretty girl. Very pretty actually. Long strawberry blond hair with slight curls surrounding a round friendly face. A bit on the plump side, but the large melons she kept pushed up in front of her made that easy to ignore.
Elizabeth lifted her blouse up over her head and threw it on the floor. Before she dropped her jeans to the floor, she pulled a pair of fingerless gloves from the back pocket and mashed them on to her hands. She was decked out in some type of homemade derby outfit. She had on short shorts that let the bottom of her ass poke out with black fishnet stockings covering her legs. The black tank top had a crude red tape number eight on it. "Well, what do you think?"
"I think you may have to spend a little time in the penalty box," Walter pulled her on top of him and they tumbled around the bed. He got on top of her and pinned her arms above her head.
"Is that right?"
"I think we're gonna have to call unnecessary roughness on you," Walter growled as he leaned in close to her ear. "You're definitely not playing fair," he whispered.
"I wondered what a girl had to do to get a little attention," she purred back into his ear. The warm breath tingled and he switched to holding both her hands with only one of his. He traced down her shirt, flicked at the red tape eight.
"You're about to get my full attention," Walter dove his hand between her legs and felt her snatch through the thin fabric. He grabbed it hard and worked his hand over it. She was already wet. Giving in to his little fantasy had made her feel dirty, like a whore. She liked that.
He whispered something inaudible into her neck as he ground his palm into the top of her mound. His fingers worked at the sides of her outer lips through the satiny shorts and he pulled her arms higher above her head. She felt even more exposed. Walter started biting at her neck and kissing his way down to her sex. His fist tightened and he pulled the shorts down to her knees. His fingers started combing through the hair around her swollen hole and then plunging into the wet recesses. She stretched her body out and closed her eyes. His thumb worked over her clit, "You dirty little bitch. You're sloppy. I'm gonna have to teach what happens when you work me up like this." He started unbuckling his pants. His cock sprang out from the loosened fly. He let go of her wrists, "Reach down there and put it in you." She grabbed his manhood and guided it into her hole. He thrust hard, sending her body upward. She kept her hand on his shaft and felt it slide back out against it, warm and slick from her juices. He grabbed at her breasts, clutching them tightly beneath his fists. He shifted his weight onto them and began jack hammering into her hips. She could feel his weight slamming against the outside of her.
