Brad's Revenge

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Man makes beauty pay dearly for high school humiliation.
11.3k words
4.28
236.4k
99

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 10/11/2007
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The lights over the stadium lit up the cool autumn night sky as Brad Carter pulled his black Escalade into the parking lot. When Joe Morton, his buddy from college, had called him up to invite him to a football game at their old alma mater, he was less than enthusiastic. But, with the promise that afterwards they would hit the local club scene, Brad had agreed.

Brad joined the mass of people pouring into the stadium and looked for his seat. He found it and a slightly drunk Joe Morton on the 40 yard line about 5 rows up from the field. After a big hug and a warm greeting from his old friend, Scott settled in his seat to watch the pageantry of small town college football.

It had been at least 15 years since he had been a student at Delta University. He had graduated with honors from the small college which only had 5000 students but boasted a reputation for high academic standards. He had really enjoyed his time at Delta. Of course, that was partly due to how favorably it compared to the hell of high school.

The fans stood and cheered loudly as the teams ran onto the field led by their cheerleaders. As the game got under way, Brad's attention was diverted to the cheerleaders on the field directly below them. When he saw her, he gasped out loud. "What's the matter buddy? You look like you saw a ghost," Joe asked.

"It's nothing. Just thought I saw someone I knew," Brad lied. It was her. But it couldn't be. He stared at the young cheerleader on the end. As she jumped, her short skirt flared revealing a pair of red briefs that cupped her tight ass. Her jump also caused her full breasts to bounce under the thin top. Her shiny, straight black hair was tied in a ponytail with a red ribbon. But what caught Brad's attention was her stunning face. Alabaster skin, full dark red lips, crystal blue eyes, and a tiny mole on her cheek just above her lip that only accentuated her beauty.

The game and Joe's rant on the blind referees faded away as he stared at her. He was deluged with emotions and memories long since buried. The young cheerleader was the spitting image of Sara Harper, the girl who had caused him so much pain in high school. Even down to the beauty mark on her cheek.

---

Hardly a week went by when he didn't think about Sara Harper. Brad had been overwhelmed by her beauty since he had first laid eyes on her in the 5th grade. As her body blossomed with maturity, she became very popular. He, on the other hand, did not. With a slight build, shoulder length hair, thick glasses and bad acne, he was just one more high school loser even with excellent grades. But even losers have dreams.

Brad's childhood crush grew into elaborate fantasies as he hit puberty. He dreamed of dating her, kissing her lush, red lips and even making love to her nude, willing body. But as the years went by, their paths diverged. She became a popular cheerleader while he became, well, pathetically lovesick. He tried to talk to her a few times but was always brushed aside by her bitchy friends. But, hope springs eternal in the mind of a hormonally challenged teenage boy so he kept trying.

With their senior year in full swing, Brad knew that his opportunity to date Sara would have to come soon. One afternoon he saw her alone at her locker and, with his heart racing, went up to her and asked her out to a dance the following weekend. She gazed at him coolly then smiled, showing him her perfect, white teeth. "Sure, Brad, I'll go with you. My house at 7. Oh, and wear something nice for me ok." Unfortunately for the young man, in his joy at her acceptance, he failed to see her laugh as he turned away.

---

Brad carried the bouquet of flowers up the sidewalk leading to Sara's front door. His heart pounded in his chest as this was the realization of seven years of fantasies. He had gone over this night a million times in his mind. It was going to be perfect. He rang the doorbell.

Mr. Harper jerked the door open and, at 6'2" tall, looked down at the slight teenager. "What the hell do you want?" he bellowed.

"Uh, I'm here to pick up Sara, sir. We have a date for the dance."

The large man snorted. "I don't think so. Now get the hell out of here." He started to shut the door.

Brad panicked. "No, wait. You're wrong. We do have a date."

Mr. Harper stepped out on the front porch. "You listen here, you little shit head. She's already gone. I'm tired of you little piss ants sniffing around my daughter like a pack of dogs after fresh meat. Now get!" With that he pushed Brad off the small porch onto the sidewalk and slammed the door.

Tears ran down his face as Brad picked himself up. With the flowers ruined, his hands and knees stinging from falling on the concrete and his best pants torn, Brad ran back to his dad's freshly washed car. He wiped his eyes and sped off to the dance.

Minutes later, Brad sped into the parking lot of the high school gym. Humiliation had turned into rage in that short drive. Something in him had snapped, releasing years of pent-up frustration and rejection. He slammed the car door shut as he stormed up to the gym. He ran into the foyer hearing the steady thump of music coming through the closed gym doors.

"What are you doing here, loser? Can't you take a hint?" Scott spun around to face Bill Morrison, the star quarterback and two of his smug buddies.

"I just want to talk to Sara. Leave me alone."

"No. I don't think she wants to talk to you tonight or any night. Sara is here with me, scumbag. Now leave or we will make you leave," the athletic young man ordered. As Brad stood still, unsure of what to do, the other two boys moved to escort him back outside.

With a quick move that surprised all four boys, Brad found himself with his back to the huge trophy case. Bill and the other two brutes moved in. "Shoulda left, fucker. Now we get to kick your ass. By the way, Sara told everyone what she did. She said she figured it would finally give you the hint that she wants you to leave her the hell alone."

As the three athletes moved closer, Brad's eyes darted around the room. A wooden broom leaned up against the wall by the trophy case and Brad leapt for it. He swung it wildly causing the three to jump back. Then, as they moved back in, he swung and connected with the star quarterback's left knee. Bill crumpled and held his knee. "Kill him, guys," he groaned.

Another wild swing missed both boys but unfortunately connected with the glass trophy case. Shards of glass littered the foyer. Mr. Simmons, the principal, came roaring out of the gym. Seeing the injured quarterback, the broken glass and Brad still clutching the broom, he called for security and snatched the broom from Brad's trembling fingers.

The rest, you could say, is history. The police and an ambulance were summoned. Bill Morrison went to the ER to find out he had a fractured kneecap, ending his season and the hopes of his team's playoff chances. Brad Carter went to the city jail. His humiliation was completed by seeing Sara laughing and extending her middle fingers to him as the police cruiser rolled away from the gym.

---

But Brad was no longer a loser. After Lasik surgery to get rid of the glasses, years in a gym with a personal trainer to harden his body, he had become a strong, handsome man. Of course, the designer clothes and pricy haircuts didn't hurt either. Brad was startled back to the present by the roar of the crowd and his buddy shaking his arm. "Man, did you see that catch? Fucking awesome!" Joe yelled.

"Yeah, Joe, that was great," Brad replied. But his thoughts were no longer on football. A sudden impulsive thought led to the beginnings of a plan. By the time the game ended, the broad strokes of a plot for revenge were worked out in his troubled mind.

As they left the stadium, Brad picked up a discarded program. He flipped through it until he found the cheerleaders' group photo and learned that her name was Ashley Conley. Flipping further, he found an ad with a face shot of the young girl. Below the ad he read the words "We love you, Ashley! Mom and Dad. Courtesy of Dr. Bob and Sara Conley and Dr. Bob's Family Dentistry." Brad smiled as he knew his plan had just begun.

---

After a few days of research online and a little surveillance, Brad was ready to make the call to his friend and business associate. He had known Dante Jackson for almost twenty years. After the cops hauled Brad away that night, he was placed in a holding cell with a group of teenaged thugs. As he sat with his back against the wall, he saw a skinny black kid pull a thin blade from his shoe and move to stab a muscular, black teen in the back. Brad reacted and kicked his leg out causing the skinny kid to fall and drop his blade. The muscular youth spun quickly and spotting the blade, quickly kicked it out of the cell. He then beat his attacker, finishing him with a brutal kick to the head. When the guards got to the cell, they found the young man laid out on the floor while the rest of the boys stood away from him. "What the fuck happened here?" bellowed one of the guards.

No one spoke until Brad softly said, "He fell down, sir."

After the guards removed the injured boy, several other kids told Dante what had happened. He walked over to Brad sticking his large hand out. "Name's Dante Jackson, bro. I owe you one. And that means something."

The next few weeks seemed surreal to Brad. Expulsion from school, court appearances and meetings with lawyers all blurred together. Most everyone agreed he should get probation. But the injured quarterback's father, a prominent banker and city councilman, demanded that he get jail time.

So with small town politics being what they are, Brad spent 3 months and 10 days at the county juvenile detention center. Dante Jackson had already arrived at the facility due to, according to Dante, a bogus drug charge. He greeted Brad like a long-lost brother. And since Dante was respected and feared both in and out of prison, Brad spent his sentence in relative peace as he got to know Dante.

After Brad's release from prison, he worked hard and got his GED, then went on to college at Delta University. He graduated with honors in accounting. On the day he opened his office and began to wonder how he was going to pay his bills, a familiar face walked in his door.

Dante Jackson had become a powerful man in the four years since Brad walked out of prison. Through street smarts, a little luck and several timely deaths, he had become a major player in drugs, prostitution and extortion in the entire southern half of the state. Now he sat in Brad's office in a thousand dollar suit and smiled broadly. He explained that he was making too much money, too fast and needed help. He wanted to hire Brad to invest, launder and basically hide his illegal income. Brad accepted his offer and over the next 15 years, made both of them very rich. So when he called Dante to set up a meeting, there was little doubt that Dante would be more than happy to help.

---

Brad pulled his Escalade up to the intercom outside the electronic gate. After identifying himself, he drove through the automatic gate and pulled up to the main house. As he walked to the front door it was opened by a petite blonde. Brad smiled as he took in her attire, a black leather collar around her neck, six inch black stilettos and nothing more. The two men shared numerous deviant tastes as well as a love of money. "Master Jackson is waiting for you in his study, Sir," she said softly.

Brad walked into the elegantly decorated study and was greeted with a big bear hug from his partner. "Something tells me this isn't a social call, bro. Have a seat and tell me what's going on with you."

The two men sat silently in soft leather chairs until Brad broke the silence. "Do you remember when I tripped that crack head that was going to cut you?"

"Sure, man. Of course, I do."

Brad hesitated. "You told me that you owed me one, remember?"

Dante's eyes slightly narrowed as he tried to guess where this atypical conversation was going. Neither one had brought up that night in years. "Yes, Brad. I remember. Seems like I might have paid that one back a few times over but what is it?"

"Okay," he said softly as he took a deep breath. He was about to violate one of their basic rules. They never discussed where all the money came from. "Dante, the women. I mean the prostitutes and strippers and escorts. Hell, the blonde cunt that opened the door for me. How do you get them?"

Dante stared at his friend with a look of amusement. "Now what you want to know bout that for? You looking to open up a titty bar and compete with me?" he laughed.

"No, Dante, this is serious. No little girl dreams of being a stripper or a crack whore when she grows up. How do you get a normal girl into the business? I mean without forcing them."

"Brad it's all too easy. Most young girls are drawn to money and power. Give them a taste of both. Drive them in a limo to the best restaurants and clubs. Buy them nice clothes and keep the champagne flowing. Then give them a little taste of coke or crack to keep the party going. The lifestyle is just as addictive as the drugs, man. Then when they're hooked on both, start backing away. They will do anything to keep it going."

Dante stared out the window for a moment. "Once you get them there, you start telling them what to do to keep the drugs and the money coming. Most slide into the life all too easy. Stripping, then a little escorting on the side leads all too quickly to giving dudes ten dollar blowjobs in an alley. Now what the fuck is this all about?"

Brad smiled at his friend's lack of patience. "Vengeance. It's all about vengeance. I know you remember me telling you about that bitch Sara Harper." Dante nodded. "She has a daughter. I need you to turn her out. I want her addicted, stripping and whoring her sweet little ass out. Everything is in here." He tossed a thick manila folder on the coffee table.

The black man looked at the first few sheets of paper in the folder. "Whoa, dude. This hottie is a dentist's daughter. In college with straight A's. And you want me to destroy her little world? Why?"

Brad started to talk and when he was done, Dante smiled a toothy grin. "Brad, you are one twisted fucker. I love it, man. Give me a few months and keep your distance in case something goes bad, okay? I'll call you when she's ready." Brad's mind raced as he drove from the estate. Having past the point of no return, he knew he would be very busy over the next few weeks preparing for his revenge.

---

The call came a little over two months later. Ashley Conley, the cute little cheerleader, had always loved to party with her friends. After she met Dante and his friends one night at an exclusive club, the rest was just as Dante had said it would be. Partying, champagne and recreational drugs had led to harder drugs and, ultimately, escorting to pay for her expensive habits. Dante had led her down the path to her destruction but she is the one who followed all too easily. Her friends couldn't handle her lifestyle and left as her grades in college plummeted. She had also distanced herself from Mommy and Daddy as she knew they just wouldn't understand.

Brad had arranged to meet at a seedy motel outside of town. He pulled up next to Dante's gleaming black Hummer and walked up to the passenger window as it rolled down. Dante handed him a key. "Number six, bro. Take your time. I'll be back in a coupla hours to pick her ass up." The window started back up as the Hummer pulled off.

Brad unlocked the door to number six and turned on the lights. Ashley Conley was tied spread-eagled to the bed. She was nude and slightly high. She had lost some weight since that night at the game but was still gorgeous. Her face was not as full and she had dark circles under her blue eyes. As he examined her nude body, his cock grew hard. Her nipples, bellybutton, clitoral hood and both labia were pierced with gold rings. She also had a diamond stud in her nose and a barbell in her tongue.

Also according to Brad's specifications, she was adorned with multiple tattoos. Her ankle was encircled with flowers. A Celtic sun surrounded her pierced navel. Brad reached out to lightly touch the words "Fuck Toy" in bold, black script above her hairless pussy. He knew without seeing that her lower back was tattooed with an elaborate tribal pattern that included his initials, BC.

Brad tugged gently on her clit ring causing her to moan. He pushed two fingers into her pussy, surprised at how wet and open she was. A third finger quickly followed as Ashley moaned and bucked on his fingers. He quickly pulled his fingers from her pussy and yanked cruelly on her clit ring, causing her to scream in an intense orgasm.

While Brad was not there to satisfy his sadistic urges, he smiled at her reaction to the pain. He slipped off his clothes and straddled her thin torso. Her pierced nipples were playfully pinched. His cock swelled as he moved to place it at her full lips. "Lick," he commanded. Her pierced tongue eagerly licked the head of his cock. Brad pushed his engorged cock past her lips. As he face-fucked the young girl, he stared into her blue eyes remembering her mother's cruel rejection of him.

Her pierced tongue swirled around his rigid cock as he slid it back and forth. Brad felt the impending orgasm build in him and forced his cock deep into her throat. With her nose nestled in his pubic hair, Ashley struggled to breathe but worked his cock with her tongue until she felt it swell and spill streams of salty cum down her throat.

He rolled off the tattooed girl and quickly dressed. He glanced at the stack of photos and DVDs on the bedside table. Dante had chronicled the young girl's adventures over the past few months. Brad stared again at the young girl's face. Remembering, he again reached down to grasp her clit ring. But this time, he yanked hard ripping the tender flesh in one sadistic motion. Ashley screamed in shock and pain as blood oozed from her torn clit. He wiped the golden ring off and put it in his pocket. With his photos and DVDs in hand he walked back out to the waiting Dante.

"She is perfect, Dante. Thank you, man."

"Yeah, ok now what, Brad? What do you want me to do with her?"

Brad smiled at his friend. "Give me a few weeks and she will be of no use to me. Then get rid of her. Set her up and send her to jail. Or sell her to the Colombians. I don't care."

Dante's eyes narrowed at the cruelty of his friend. But he knew the demons of his past and how they affected him. "Okay, man, I'll see you later. Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."

---

Sara Conley stepped from the shower and gazed at her alabaster skin and taut body in the mirror. "Not bad for thirty seven," she thought. Her unlined face was almost unchanged from high school. The body was a bit softer but frequent trips to the gym kept her tummy flat and her legs and ass toned. Her breasts were now perfect "C" cups with little sag thanks to Dr. Bob's money and her plastic surgeon. She brushed out her black hair, a bit shorter these days going just past her shoulders. She put on a silk robe and went to check her email.

These days she checked her emails frequently. While she loved Dr. Bob's money and what it could do for her and her daughter, Dr. Bob had turned out to be a fat pig. She would give him the occasional blow job or hand job and would let him grunt on top of her for a few minutes every week or so. As long as he brought in the dough, it was the least she could do. But now he was asking to fuck her up the butt. He didn't make that much money, she often laughed to herself.

But after Don Summers, Dr. Bob's attorney and her mixed doubles partner at the club, seduced her and screwed her brains out a few weeks ago, Dr. Bob seemed even more repulsive. She logged on expecting to find another sexy email from the handsome lawyer. Instead, she found one from her daughter Ashley's email account.