Copyright (c) 2018,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Monday, June 11, 2018

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.

A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: lowandin.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com

story_codes: M/g(11), rape

story_intro: A Little League pitcher is practicing on her own when a friendly, seemingly harmless guy stops to watch. Little does the girl know that she's been getting scouted for a much darker game.


story_language: English




Low and Inside

Written by madvlad


	"Mackie!....Mackie!...Mackie!"

	The chants rolled through the stadium like a cadenced thunder. Two hours into the action, the already carnival-like atmosphere at Game 7 of the World Series had intensified as the score remained knotted at zero in the sixth inning. Under the glare of the banks of daylight-white lights and the focus of multiple television cameras, the lone figure on the mound paused.

	All season, she had patiently answered questions and heard the comments about her being the first female pitcher in major league history. Then she was the female first All-Star. It was a foregone conclusion that she would be the first woman Rookie of the Year when the awards were announced. 

	But tonight - now - there was no more "first woman" talk. Although the championship was in play, an underlying buzz grew in the stands as she had allowed none of the first seventeen hitters to reach base. Only once before in World Series history had a perfect game ever been pitched. Don Larsen did it in Game 5 back in 1956 - a series that also went seven games. If she was the second, it would be one that this time clinched everything.

	The batter readied himself, down two strikes to one ball. The pitcher wound up and threw, taking just a little speed off the pitch to ruin the hitter's timing. As he swung through empty air, the crowd roared. Then the ball clanged off the chain link backstop of the Springdale Little League field.

	Lost in her imagination, Mackie pumped her fist down at her side like a big leaguer would do. As she spun around on the mound, she saw a man watching from beside a pick-up truck parked by a storage shed beyond the outfield fence.

	Ralph was the groundskeeper of the park complex, taking care of the baseball and soccer fields as well as the playgrounds and trails throughout the sprawling acreage. Mackie knew he lived here in a small building and liked to watch games when he took a break. Like most of the kids, she had never spoken to him, considering the man a fixture that was part of the place. 

	Staying here after her team practice was done, Mackie suddenly felt very alone. She had done this before with the understanding with her coach that she would gather the baseballs in a bucket and leave them by a nearby storage shack where Ralph would presumably get them and lock them away later.

	A month ago, a girl her age had gone missing while playing alone on a soccer field. It had happened on the other side of the state and there had been some talk about but this was Springdale where nothing like that could really happen. Still, Mackie was very much aware that it was just her and Ralph right now.

	Lifting a sweat-stained ball cap from his head, Ralph ran his hand through his hair - dark but starting to gray. Then he set his hat back in place and gave Mackie a cheery wave. Mackie blushed, partly from being caught in her World Series fantasy and partly from thinking mean things about the man. Then she waved back. 

	Ralph tossed a last bag of fertilizer into the bed of the truck and closed the tailgate. As he drove off, Mackie returned her thoughts to pitching. She was the only girl on her team but the boys all recognized that she was the best pitcher. The extra practice did her good but right now she had a World Series to win.

	At the end of the "eighth inning", another visitor arrived. A silver sports car (Mackie didn't know what kind) cruised in and parked near the backstop. When a tall, dark-haired man in slacks and a dress shirt got out, Mackie watched him for a moment. He was kind of handsome in a rugged sort of way but she had never seen him before. He walked toward the field but stopped at the fence and gave her a wave. As he didn't seem to have any intent to come onto the field, Mackie waved back.

	The ninth inning wasn't the same with the good-looking stranger observing. Not wanting to get caught reacting to her fantasy, Mackie threw her pitches and quickly played her big league visions in her head. No, it wasn't as fun this time, but she had done the entire Game Seven before and would do so again when she had privacy.

	Blake watched the lithe little girl in motion. When she threw, her blonde ponytail whipped out from the space in the back of her ball cap between the hat and the adjustment band. Her t-shirt was baggy so he wasn't sure if she had any chest development there but at around ten or eleven, she wouldn't have much anyway. She wore an old pair of uniform pants that were becoming a bit too small on her. But for him, they were perfect, highlighting her flexing, high and tight little rump beneath the stretched fabric as she worked her young body on the mound.

	This was Blake's second solo mission and he was pleased with his find. Athletic preteens were best since they needed some endurance for what they were to become. That little soccer player he had nabbed a month earlier had been ten and a half and a fun little fighter during the week he broke her in. She might have thought she had forcibly learned everything about rape during her time with him, but her new owners had plenty of schooling in store for her. From the online videos he had seen, she was becoming a quick study - whether she wanted to be or not. 

	There was a bike propped against the fence near his car and he figured it to be the pitcher's. She'd have to come this way to get it.

	Texting his contacts, he informed them that he had a new prospect for them and would deliver in a week. This activity was also a good cover as it made him look busy instead of just watching the girl. She was done with her pitching now and began to gather the balls, tossing them into a pair of five gallon buckets. 

	"Hey, you need a hand?" he called out.

	The girl paused and gave him a polite smile.

	"No thank you," she replied.

	Blake nodded and went back to his phone, peering at his contact list as if he was absorbed in an important message. When he saw the girl was done, he called out again.

	"Do you have a minute?"

	Mackie paused, well aware of being alone with a stranger. But he was behind the backstop and its high fence and had made no move to go around it and approach her. Feeling confident, she walked to the fence as he pushed a small white card through with two fingers.

	"My name's Lyle Hemsworth," he said as he offered her the bogus business card. "I'm an agent."

	"A sports agent?" Mackie asked with surprise.

	"I wish," Blake laughed. "No, I work in product placement and am looking for kids like you. What's your name? First name only, please."

	"McKenzie - Mackie for short."

	"Mackie," the man replied, testing the name with his voice. "I like it, uncommon but not bizarre. Anyway, I'm doing a project that involves marketing sports gear for kids - clothing, equipment, that sort of thing. You look like you'd be a good fit for us."

	"Me?" Mackie squeaked, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

	"Yeah. You're pretty enough but you're also an athlete and that's important. I mean, we could find some gorgeous, girly-girl who doesn't know which end of a bat to use but anyone who knows sports would see it's just a fake pose. We want kids who know how to play and will make it look real."

	Mackie nodded, feeling pleased that she was being considered for such a thing. Even though she wasn't big into dressing up like some girls in her class were becoming, the idea of modeling had its appeal - especially if it meant baseball.

	"Do you play baseball?" she asked.

	"I wish," Blake groaned. "I played some in college - strictly backup. And I was an outfielder. There was no way I could ever pitch like you can. As the coaches said about my throwing - I was slow, but I was wild."

	Mackie laughed and Blake pointed to the business card she held.

	"I want to do this right and make it safe for you, Mackie," he explained. "That's why I don't want your last name right now. Please talk this over with your parents and if it's okay with them, have them call me."

	Mackie nodded; glad that he understood all the child safety stuff. They chatted for a few more minutes with the man staying on the other side of the fence. Then Blake broke it off.

	"I should be going. I don't want to make you late and have your folks worrying."

	"It's okay, they went to some antique auction and won't be back until tonight."

	"Ah, okay," Blake said nonchalantly.

	Okay, hell, it was perfect.

	"If you have more time, then, I can have you look at some brochures. I'll get them from the trunk."

	When Blake returned to his car and popped the trunk open, Mackie decided to go around the fence to join him. As she drew near, he turned around with a manila folder. 

	"Here's a sample," he said casually as he handed it to her.

	She opened the folder and her curiosity instantly turned to horrific surprise. It was a photo of a naked girl tied to a table. The photo was taken from above, presumably by the man who had his erection jammed into the girl's hairless genitals. Had the girl not been screaming in the photo, Mackie might have recognized her from the smiling face of the missing soccer girl that had been shown on the news a month earlier.

	A mushy ball of ice built in her gut, rolling until it quickly became heated. She thought she was going to be sick as the folder and its sordid contents - yes, there were more pictures behind the first - fluttered to the ground.

	"Now look at what you did," Blake scolded. "People pay good money for those. Now pick them up."

	Unable to move, Mackie blinked and managed to look up at the man. She found a wicked-looking knife with its point inches from her face.

	"Pick them up," Blake repeated, this time with an edge to his voice that matched the blade of the knife.

	Trembling, Mackie did as she was told. The horrid photos felt as they were burning her fingertips and despite her fear, she felt some relief when he took them from her. 

	"Now walk around the backstop until I tell you to stop."

	Mackie turned and took a step. For a moment, she thought about running but then the edge of the knife was placed against the side of her neck in an oddly gentle manner. Once they were directly behind home plate, Blake had her stop. There were trees farther back and he and the girl would be blocked from any direct view by anyone approaching from the far side of the ballfield. 

	"Sneakers and socks off - now," he ordered.

	Mackie did as she was told. Blake's instructor, a more seasoned agent in the trade, had told him that the best way to start was with the footwear as it would slow them somewhat if they tried to make a break for it.

	"Now the shirt."

	Weeping, Mackie pulled her t-shirt off. To Blake's delight, she wore a training bra that clung to her thin frame with no evident growth beneath the two flat cups. 

	"How old are you, Mackie?"

	"Te...eleven. I just turned eleven. Please don't-"

	A slap to the face cut off her plea. 

	"Next time you speak out of turn, I won't be as nice," Blade warned as he waggled the knife in his other hand. "Now let's see if you've got anything to play with under that bra."

	Mackie was openly sobbing as she removed her bra. When she tried to cup her hands over her chest, Blake pressed the tip of the knife under her chin. She got the message and put her arms down. 

	At first, Blake thought she had nothing there. But a second look showed flat pads of female tissue about the size of silver dollars starting to emerge around each of her nipples. The pink nubs were still small and flat like a younger child's. Using his free hand, he stroked one barely blossoming breast and made the girl flinch as he squeezed the tender flesh there.

	"My last girl was as flat as a soccer pitch," he remarked. "But look at you. You're trying to grow a pair of cute little pitcher's mounds."

	Mackie didn't find his humor appreciable and cried even more when she was made to remove her pants. Now all that remained were a pair of white panties that had a tiny, pale blue bow at the front of the waist band. 

	"Adorable," Blade noted as he admired the feminine undies. "Now take them off and hand them to me."

	Mackie was crying hard as she made herself completely naked in front of the man. When she handed him her panties, he balled them up and stuffed them in her mouth. Then he stroked her hair with seeming affection until he grabbed her ponytail and threw her to the ground. Before she could react, he stomped a foot on her stomach to drive the air out of her. 

	Gasping for air through the cloth in her mouth, Mackie was only dimly aware of Blake dropping his trousers before he was kneeling over her. He spit on his fingers and rubbed her between her legs.

	"Nice cunt," he breathed. "Not even one hair yet."

	When he pushed one finger through her labia, she flinched as he pressed against her hymen. 

	"Oh my," he laughed. "You've never had sex before?"

	Mackie frantically shook her head.

	"Well, you won't be able to say that for much longer."

	Forcing the girl's legs apart, Blake got on top of her. Her hairless mound was warm and pliant against his prick head and the girl squealed through her muffled mouth as her lips spread around the glans when it sank in. He kept pressing and she could feel herself stretching in different ways down there.

	"You feel that thing that hurts a little?" Blake asked as he lightly traced the knife point over Mackie's cheek. "That's your cherry. When I break through that, you won't be a virgin anymore."

	Mackie wanted desperately to throw him off, but the reminder he had just made with his knife was quite clear. With her heart pounding in her bare chest, she lay still and dreaded whatever was to come next.

	Blake took his time, pushing and making the girl's membrane strain against the pressure. He wanted to prolong this; to make her last moments of innocence as frightening and painful as possible. In the end, it was his own desire to get into that young snatch that made him end Mackie's initial torment - only to replace it with something worse.

	Even through her wadded panties, Mackie's screams were shrill as her maidenhead was shredded. Heaving his prick into the girl's virgin sex, Blake forced the little tunnel open bit by bit. As she was brutally penetrated, Mackie thrashed beneath him with her hands clawing at the dirt. The man's hardness ripped into her, forcing her young body to take him as her vaginal canal was made to expand and press against the surrounding tissue.

	Having filled the sobbing youngster from her bald pussy lips to her cervix, Blake started to fuck her with massive thrusts. The blood from her ruined chastity made the preteen's luscious little twat warm and slick for his marauding cock as it plumbed her intimate place. More crimson squirted from her abused cunt, staining her hairless mound as the man's shaft slammed into her juicy hole again and again.

	Blake had held off from ejaculating since delivering his last girl because he wanted his next victim's first wad to be a huge once. His body responded as expected, making his cock pulse inside the child's painfully abused twat as it shot his seed into her not quite ripened womb. Mackie's groan was like that of an animal as she felt the sliminess of the lava-like liquid completing her violation.

	Taking time to enjoy his new conquest, Blake lifted himself off her before dropping his head to play with Mackie's blooming titlets. As she was on her back, she appeared completely flat but he lapped at her breasts and could feel the slight layer of fatty tissue that signaled her tentative entry toward adolescence. With his teeth, he trapped and tugged at her nipples, making them harden from the agitation. 

	When he finally knelt upright, he waved his dripping organ at her. 

	"You sure took a lot of demolition work, but I got the job done."

	Mackie mewled in shame and agony as she saw her blood mixed with other fluids on the thing that had invaded her. Her tiny, spit-coated breasts which no male had seen since they had begun to grow now throbbed from the man's bites.

	"Well, I guess we're done here if you want to go," Blake said reasonably.

	Mackie found the sudden strength to roll over. She didn't trust her legs to stand yet but she started to crawl toward her discarded clothing.

	Blake eyed the blonde's pert ass with appreciation. It looked firm and supple and would be a pleasure to take. Like with the last girl, he'd wait until the day before he delivered her to her new masters. She'd think she had been raped in every way possible before the shock of getting her ass torn open. And everything that Blake did was only a start to the wide array of sordid activities that her owners would subject her to. 

	And today had been a nice start. Mackie's hairless cunt, which still retained from childish plumpness, was oozing pinkish goo that was painting the insides of her firm young thighs. She was nearly to her pants when she stopped to pull the panties from her mouth. Before she could, Blake pounced on her from behind.

	"On second thought, you shouldn't go," he said as he mounted the panicked preteen. 

	Mackie howled in outrage as Blake once again lanced his way into her ravaged little snatch. Taking her like an animal, he leaned over to found purchase on the girl's chest, grasping her new breasts and twisting them as he sluiced his engorged meat into her prepubescent pussy. She tried to struggle and used newfound muscles in an attempt to force that hurtful thing from her body.

	Blake could feel the slight quivering in the little athlete's cuntal channel as she tried to squeeze him out. But she was too weak and injured there to have any effect except to add to the delicious fuck she was giving him. Hammering away inside the grasping tube of girl flesh, Blake raped her furiously to teach her the new role she would have to endure. He exploded again, sullying the eleven year-old with more fierce shots of semen.

	Panting, he staggered to his feet and picked up Mackie's t-shirt so he could wipe his penis clean. He might have used her mouth but there would be time later to introduce her to the taste of her raped twat on his dick. For now, he wanted to leave as soon as possible.

	Mackie hoped her ordeal was over as Blake went to his car. She pulled her panties from her mouth and painfully tried to sit and slide them on. But Blake returned and laughed at her struggles.

	"Congratulations," he said.

	Mackie looked up at him in hurtful confusion. 

	"You passed the audition."

	Then he clamped a handkerchief over her mouth and nose. It smelled funny and she tried to wrench her head free but everything became fuzzy and then dark.

	Mackie woke with a start and stared at her surroundings. She was in a small bedroom - nothing fancy but it was well-kept. Sitting up, she looked around and listened but heard nothing. Beside her were clothes. They had been washed - she could tell since her t-shirt was clean - and neatly folded and placed in a pile. 

	Lifting the sheet and blanket, she noticed that she was clean as well. Her chest was bruised around her nipples and she was sore between her legs, but the hateful stickiness was gone from her crotch and legs.

	Heavy footsteps sounded and the bedroom door cracked open. Pulling the sheet up to cover her torso, Mackie was surprised to see Ralph, the groundskeeper, as he peeked in. He looked gravely concerned but seemed relieved when he saw that she was awake.

	"Can I come in?" he asked.

	"Is this your room?" Mackie croaked, unsure of what this man's intent was.

	"Uh huh. It's not much but it's cozy enough. Uh, you're safe now. I found that man carrying you to his car and we had a fight."

	Ralph pulled up a chair and sat next to her, keeping his eyes on her face.

	"Blake," Mackie rasped. "That's his name. Where is he?"

	Ralph paused for a moment before answering.

	"He, uh, got away. But I thought it was more important to get you away from him."

	"Thank you," she said in a small voice. 

	Ralph pointed to her clothing.

	"You were out of it for a couple of hours so I washed everything. And I, uh, cleaned you up. I did it with a wash cloth the whole time so I never touched your, um, personal places directly. Now that you're awake, I should call the police."

	"No!"

	"Huh?"

	Her attack reeled through her head in fast motion and she began to speak, needing to get it out.

	"He had a knife," she said. "He made me take my clothes off and then he...he..."

	When Mackie began bawling, Ralph leaned in and hugged her. The sheet fell away and Mackie could feel his shirt against her bare body as she pressed against him, sobbing. She felt no embarrassment, only comfort as he held her and softly patted her back.

	"Please..." she sniffled at last. "I don't want people to know what happened. I just want to go home and play baseball and be with my parents and my friends and..."

	"You will," Ralph soothed. "You will."

	When Mackie finally stopped shaking, he let her go. She was still nude for the waist up but kept his focus on her face like before.

	"I'll let you get dressed and then take you home, okay? I put the balls away and I have your bike and glove in the back of my truck."

	Mackie shifted her legs and grimaced. 

	"Where's your bathroom? I still need to wash...his stuff is inside me."

	Both of them blushed and Ralph pointed to another door before he ducked out of the room to give her privacy.

	"Are you sure you don't want to go to the police?" Ralph asked as he was driving Mackie home. 

	"Yes, please don't tell."

	"You've got nothing to be ashamed of," he insisted. "None of it's your fault. But if that's how you want it, I will keep your secret. But if you never need to talk about it to just have a good cry, come see me, okay?"

	Mackie nodded, both relieved and immensely grateful to this man she hardly knew. He seemed so calm and understanding and had to be good with kids.

	"Do you have any kids?" she asked.

	Ralph gave a wistful half smile a she answered.

	"Nope. Never met the right woman to settle down with. But my kid sister has five of 'em - two boys and three girls. They all live out in Arizona and I go out to visit them every winter. The youngsters have fun with their Uncle Ralphie."

	Ralph's normally homely, basset hound-like face looked nice when he smiled while thinking of his nieces and nephews. Then he turned serious again.

	"What if I call the cops and tell them about a suspicious man who was hanging around? I don't have to tell them anything about you. I did get the guy's license number on his car as he drove off."

	"That would be good," Mackie acknowledged, feeling guilty that her desire to keep a secret might put other kids in danger. "Do you think that will work?"

	"Oh yeah. The police know me - they give me information on suspicious types or if there might be a risk of parents kidnapping their kids when there's a divorce with custody issues. You'd be amazed at the stuff. Anyway, they know I'm around the park so I'm kind of an unofficial deputy. Never heard of this guy, though. I just wish I was there sooner."

	"I'm glad you were there at all," Mackie said, shuddering at the idea of what would have been her fate had Ralph not arrived.

	Ralph pulled into the driveway of her house. For a brief moment, she felt scared because this man now knew where she lived. Blake had acted so carefully about not getting her information.
But Ralph's only action was to get out and retrieve her bicycle from the truck bed.

	"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.

	Mackie nodded but thought about that. No, she wasn't alright. But she wasn't with Blake either. And she had this other man whom she had largely ignored in the past to thank for it. Was he being kind to her because he was nice or because she was "the girl who had been raped"? She didn't want anyone thinking of her that way, feeling sorry for her and treating her like she was completely different now. Walking her bike to the side of the house, she impulsively stopped and turned toward Ralph as he was getting into the truck.

	"Ralph?"

	"Yes?"

	Mackie fidgeted for a moment.

	"I'm pitching next Tuesday. We have a four o'clock game. Could you come watch me?"

	Ralph's face lit up with genuine delight - no sign of any pity at all.

	"Absolutely! I mean, I get to watch a lot of games but this is the first time I got an invitation. Count me in."

	Mackie realized she was smiling in return and waved to him as he pulled out of the driveway. Then the smile faded. No, she wasn't alright but that last little exchange told her that somehow she would get back to that state again.

	Ralph parked the truck by the tool shed and sat for a moment. Then with a sigh, he got out and went inside the shed before returning. He opened the truck's tailgate and partially pulled aside a tarp in the bed. Bound and gagged, Blake stared at him; his hair plastered to his head with sweat and one side of his face bruised from the temple to the upper cheek where Ralph had clouted him.

	"That poor little girl you hurt doesn't want anyone to know what happened," Ralph informed the other man in a resigned voice. "So I won't turn you over to the police, after all."

	Blake grunted in relief. He'd have to hear some lecture from this dipshit but it was no worse than the knowledge that this overrated outdoor janitor had gotten the better of him. How the hell was Blake supposed to know there was a narrow walking trail from one part of the park to the backstop of the baseball field? The groundskeeper had forgotten something and was walking back through the woods shortcut as Blake was loading the unconscious girl's naked body into the car.

	"I don't mind keeping it a secret because Mackie's such a sweet gal - didn't deserve what you done to her," Ralph went on. "Even if it does mean more work for me."

	Blade grunted questioningly and Ralph looked sheepish as he explained. Holding up a dirt-caked spade he had taken from the shed, he slid it into the bed alongside Blake.

	"After all," the groundskeeper continued with his hound dog expression. "A six-foot deep hole won't dig itself, you know."


Copyright (c) 2018 madvlad

madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm
























This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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