Things seemed to be heating up with Di. I had a busy month afterwards and couldn't over to see them, which helped cool things down. I was anxious about how Di was feeling after the last encounter. She turned out okay, though we avoided speaking about it, pretending as if it never happened. Lisa was beginning to question why my sex drive was suddenly so high, but that was the most of my concerns. Things between the three of us continued amiably as they do. Sooner or later, I knew, I'd get into another intimate situation with Di.
This next story is more on the incredible side.
Lisa wanted to do a costume photo-shoot and we offered to help scope out some possible locations. Lisa had an appointment, so Di and I went by ourselves. I took a camera with me to snap the places and angles we could use. Di wore a patterned white t-shirt and the same black pleated skirt she wore in our first awkward encounter -- this time there no "irregularities" with her clothing, so I felt comfortable knowing that nothing embarrassing was going to happen.
We caught the train, arriving at an abandoned brickworks on the outskirts of the city. The place was surrounded by industrial buildings and warehouses, though the site itself had been abandoned long ago and was in a derelict state. It was that run-down appearance that made the site appealing when we first heard of it. The walls were caked in bright graffiti; windows were missing and the steel frame of the building was exposed and twisted in some parts. Corrugated iron sheets formed makeshift walls; rusty barrels dotted the yard and the interior consisted of a maze of walkways and stairs. There was no machinery in the brickworks, but the rusty remnants still remained. Chains and hooks still hung from the tall ceiling. The place smelled of metal and had a pretty strong draught blowing through most of the time.
"This is one hell of a building," I said to Di as I took photos. "Would make a great movie scene."
"It feels scary," she said, "like it's haunted or something. It's like there's someone watching me."
It wasn't haunted, but someone definitely was watching us. Unknown to us, the abandoned factory was used by gangs as a meeting place, where they would do their deals, traffic drugs and generally hide away from prying eyes. Our entry to the brickworks had been spotted, and they were curious about the two visitors poking around with a camera. I heard a shout from around the corner. "Hey, what are you chinks doing here?" The voice came from a skinny young man wearing a grey tank top. Beside him were three other guys dressed in ripped denim and wearing muscle shirts, some obviously spending most of their meager earning on gym memberships and protein drinks.
"We're just taking photos," I replied. I knew this wasn't to go too well. This side of town was known for its gang violence. My side of town had that reputation as well, but I stayed clear of those juvenile circles to the point where it seemed like a boogeyman story. We were, however, obviously on their turf. The skinny guy strode right up to me.
"That' a nice camera there," he said. "How much that cost?"
"Not that much."
He sn*tched it out of my hands. "Sony. 1080p high-definition video camcorder. Saw one of these in the shop. Two grand. Nice ****." He pointed the camera at us, shoving the lens close to Di's face before stepping out of reach. "Anti-shake. Very nice. Good taste in cameras."
At this point the other men had surrounded us and they produced knives from their pockets, flicking them nonchalantly and twirling them around their fingers with impressive skill. One stood in front of me and held his blade out cautiously while two moved towards Di. One held his knife close to her throat. She stared at him straight in the eye. Di was not an expert fighter, but she had a reputation in school for her hands dirty when she was rubbed the wrong way. She wouldn't be afraid to break noses. However, I knew she'd get herself hurt and she probably sensed my caution. I wasn't trained in fighting techniques either, and it was too risky with four of them armed with knives. Asian I was; Jackie Chan I was not.
"Let's have a bit of fun with this," the skinny guy said. He started to film Di. Without a word, the guy behind her grabbed her breast. She screamed and struggled, but stopped when she felt the blade press against her throat. The man continued to fondle her. "Nice tits," he hissed, pinching them hard. Di groaned involuntarily. I gulped. Not even I was that rough, and seeing her being molested made me sweat. "Shame we can't see more of those beauties," he continued. "How about we make this top a bit more revealing?" Di stifled a scream the other man slid his knife down her t-shirt and started it tearing it down the middle, exposing her bra. She was wearing a white lace one that barely covered her nipples. The men were drooling, and all this was being caught on camera. The man stopped short of cutting all the way through. Instead, he slid the knife beside her thigh and up her skirt. She shuddered from the cold steel, but dared not move in fear of cutting herself.
"Please, no..." she begged.
There was a quick snip. Her underwear dropped to the ground - a tiger-print g-string. That drew a few whistles, turning into wild calls as they lifted her skirt to show her thick bush. She squirmed as they continued to play with her breasts, and her crotch began to dampen from the arousal. All of this was captured on tape.
Meanwhile, I hadn't realised that the man guarding me was actually talking to me. All eyes were directed at Di, including mine. "Hey," he called out again. "You speak English? Give me your phone and wallet."
I reached into my pocket for my phone. I stepped forward to pass the phone to him. The others were slowly tearing off Di's shirt. As I handed the phone over, I seized the man's wrist with my other hand, yanked him closer and delivered a stunning elbow to his jaw followed by another elbow to send him to the concrete. In one movement, I reached into my pocket and felt for the loose change I usually carried. Out they flung, several coins, hurling aimlessly towards the others. They all missed and clinked onto the ground, but they had their desired effect. In the split second they took to flinch, I dashed towards the nearest thug, leapt and kneed him the face. Di caught on wrestled her assailant down, smashing his face with her elbow and kicking him in the groin. I helped her up and we both made a run for it, the skinny camera guy in pursuit. We ran up the nearest flight of stairs leading up into the old offices. On the way up, I grabbed one of the hanging hooks and swung it back, clobbering our pursuer. The others were beginning to stand up and chased us upstairs.
Like the outside, the top of the building consisted of twisted metal. A rebar sticking out of the wall nearly took off my arm as I dashed by. The building had been torched by arsonists a few years ago and walls and ceilings showed the charred remains of the blaze. Concrete fragments and glass crunched underneath our feet. Di’s ripped shirt caught onto a metal bar, tearing it off completely.
We reached the end of the hall and turned to run down the stairs. However, two of the men we knocked down earlier were running up the stairs at the same time. Di, who was ahead of me, bumped into them. She struggled as they tried to seize her, shaking one off and turning to run back up. Her shoes got caught in the old metal steps and she fell, twisting her ankle. The men grabbed her legs and pulled her down. I leapt over the top of Di and caught the man around the neck, pulling him to the ground. We rolled down the stairs, collecting the second man with us. He reached to grab for something, his hand clasping the hem of Di’s skirt. She yelped and hung onto the handrail. Her skirt gave way, exposing her entire lower body for all to see.
The men didn’t get to see her most private part. The one I caught slammed his head against the concrete on the way down. I shoved the over one off me. He swung around and kicked at my face, but I blocked it and pulled him off balance. Out flashed his knife. He had a cut over his eye from the fall and his nose was bleeding. He stood off cautiously and lashed conservatively. I kept my stance firm, enticing him to attack me. I feinted forward and he scampered back. Impatient, he lunged again. Predicting this, I leapt out of the way. At the same time, I grabbed my camera bag from around my shoulders and used the strap to catch his hand, wrapping it around his wrist. I rolled under his arm and followed through by shoving my shoulder against his abdomen. His momentum carried him over and his body slammed into the ground. I gave the arm another twist and kicked him in the elbow. There was a distinct crack. He yelled in agony.
Upstairs, Di was grappling with the skinny guy who had been chasing us. During the melee her bra had been ripped off and she was now completely naked. Her adversary was doing everything her could to break free. He managed to distract her by squeezing her breast and reaching for her crotch. Taking advantage, he flipped her around so that she was in a forward prone position with her bare butt in the air. Di was stunned. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him staring right at her moist, exposed vagina. She shuddered as his fingertips rubbed against her clitoris. She tried to kick him away, but pain shot up through her ankle.
He didn’t get the chance to go further. I stormed into the room and kicked him squarely across the head. He was instantly knocked out.
I hauled Di to her feet. Seeing her naked (and in hindsight, it was the first time I had ever seen her naked), I gave her my jacket, which only just covered her body. We limped down the steps, ignoring the thugs who were now groaning on the floor with fractured skulls or broken limbs. We got out of the brickworks and into the street, where we signalled for help. Pedestrians soon flocked around us to help us out. By chance one of them was an off-duty policemen who promptly called for immediate help. It was a relief that we had survived the ordeal. The worst injury was to Di’s modesty – unable to walk, she was left exposed to all who stopped to help until we were able to get a ride home in a police van.
As a bonus prize, however, I had picked up my camera on the way out. I was asked to provide the video recording as evidence by the police. I watched it when I got home. Though it was an honestly scary experience, I now had a high-definition video of my girlfriend’s hot sister being forced to strip. Talk about a reward!
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