She was beautiful, damn near being equated with a goddess. Her beauty was the kind that was radiated from the inside out. She was not your regular, every day kind ‘pretty girl’. She was much than just pretty and she knew it.

Nike was tall and dark skinned. Her skin the magnificent hue of ebony that stretched and stretched, till it tormented any preying and prying eye to the point of pain and frantic search, out of shame, for an escape from its magnificent glare. She was just a few months short of her twenty-third birthday, but looking at her no one would have any idea.

Her breasts were full and well formed. They weren’t the bulbous misshapen heap that graced the chest of some girls; these were comfortably sized protrusions that added a lot of perspective to her upper front view. They teased you enough for anyone to take notice, but weren’t obscene to breed discomfiture in an innocent onlooker.  They sat just right, taking a graceful place of honour right in the middle for all eyes to feast on them. Further down, as the eyes traced the outline of her lithe body, she was also well endowed and blessed – her hips tapered at the right angles, dipping nicely to accentuate her well-formed legs all the way down to the ankles of her feet. She didn’t have big buttocks, but hers were ample enough to give any man’s over-sized palms a lot of trouble handling them.

If anyone was to look beyond her breasts, buttocks, legs or near flawless olive complexion of her skin, in search of something more intangible and eclectic that defined her beauty and grace, there would be no disappointment either. She was a natural charmer, wearing a smile that was as disarming as they were infectious. She was the kind of girl most will term, ‘happy-go-lucky’. She had little worries about the world and all the wickedness that went on in it, simply because she didn’t allow it to touch her too much. She had a smile for everyone all the time and she had more than enough charm to make even the most Jewish of Jews forget to call in a debt.

It was not a surprise to find that she always had a lot of guys around her trying to get her attention. She was that kind of girl that invited attention and trouble every time they step out into the streets. If she wasn’t going out looking, they came right to her doorstep knocking.

But, unlike many girls who will find the attentions of the male clan exciting and exhilarating, she was the kind who knew from an early age what a lot of her fellow women-folk fail to realise – that a man will pursue a girl, telling her all the right things she needed to hear and feeding her wild fantasies for romance and love, until he gets between her legs and reaps his reward. Once this singular aim was achieved, the rules of engagement of the relationship are redefined.

Knowing this, she knew how to manoeuvre her way around the many men that flocked around her without causing unnecessary aggravation towards her person or reducing the macho-value of the men who were involved with and in her life. She capably balanced all the many conflicting interests, massaging all the egomaniacal tendencies of her male harem quite superbly and without a fuss.

She was that kind of girl. She had the beauty and she carried it gracefully. This gave her a lot of power and she used it as best as she could, drawing out on a cheque that gave her a pass to the many good things of life – nice clothes, shoes, jewelries, expensive perfumes and so on. Even at her young age, she had already mastered the old tricks in the man-woman relationship that had been set from time immemorial.  She knew who held, or was supposed to hold the key, in this relationship. She understood that for as long as she held away the prized loot from the guys, she could always get them where she wanted them.

That was her creed, for the few short years she had been matured enough to understand what a boy/man really wanted from a girl/woman. And in all that time, it had stood her in good stead.

He knew it from the beginning what his calling in life was.  From when he was a little boy of about eight, when he first had his first real sexual encounter with a girl, he realised there was nothing else he loved than playing with a girl’s pussy and hearing them scream.

Hearing them scream, cry and then moan and whimper till they expired their last breath.

He knew it and over time he had mastered the art.


They were playing at the back of the house, under the shades of the huge mango tree that was the normal playing spot for the kids of the house during the day and the gathering point in the evening for the more elderly folks of the compound. It was mid-afternoon and they were alone. She was his best play mate and they usually hung around each other more than they did with other kids their age. He didn’t know if this was simply because they lived next door to each other in their one storey rented apartment, or if it was just out of genuine fondness for him and his company. But, one thing was very clear to him though, she was the only girl who allowed him as much access as he liked. She raised little fuss whenever he raised her blouse or skirt and touched her panties or chest, if anything at all, she was more likely to spread her legs wider for him and smile that sheepish-shy smile she always wore on her face. So, most afternoons, he was more often to be found playing with her than with any other kid in the house or on the street. Although, they spent an awful long time together it never raised any worry among the elders. Rather, everyone would tease them both on their close friendship. His mom will call her mom, “my in-law” and the same would be the way her mom addressed his mom.

So, it was not strange to find them playing alone together in the compound. But, for a while prior to this day, he had been engulfed with an all-consuming thought. A thought that had wormed its way into his mind since the day he had stood by the door to the two-room apartment of a bachelor tenant and overheard him and his friends talking over a slightly mooted audio of a film they were watching.  He had caught a few words of the conversation, and the impression it had left on him had been unmistakable.

“Chai, wo bi o se n ya omo yen ni iya ku ya. Obo e ti gbona men!”

He knew and understood what every word had meant and that was when he started thinking about how to make Titi’s obo to gbona. It consumed him, the thought of what he would have to do to achieve this. Surely, it would have to be a lot more than touching her panties. That would only make her smile that her smile. She won’t scream like the girl in that movie screamed, calling out a guy’s name over and over and over. The screams, and her calling out the name, made him want the same more than anything else in the world – a girl calling out his name like her life depended on it for survival.

Eventually, he made a decision. He knew what he would do, but he was not sure Titi would play ball. He needed to know for sure before he tried anything.

“Titi, I want to show you something,” he didn’t look over at her side as he felt her eagerly move closer. She tried to pry open his palms, impatient as always to learn what new tricks and kinks he was bringing to their play scenarios.

He yanked his hands away, “No joor! Not my hands I want to show you something else ni joor. But, you have to promise me something before I show you,” now he shifted and looked at her wearing his most serious look.

“Ok, I hear. What is it?” She quipped in her shrill, seven year old girlish voice.
“No. You have to promise me first that you won’t tell anyone”

“I promise.”

It was that simple and he knew she won’t too. She was besotted that way with him; it was why he knew she was his best shot at what he had in mind. He had extracted her promise not to tell on him, all that remained was to get down to it before she changed her mind.

“Ok, but first I will need you to follow me into the old poultry shed,” this was the tricky part and he looked at her face for any sign of hesitation. But, all he saw in her eyes were the eager expectation of a young precocious girl who always loved a mystery.

“Ok, let’s go,” she stood up immediately and pulled him up after her. She trundled eagerly ahead of him as they snuck into the old poultry shed that was now unused. People rarely ever came to this side of the compound which made it perfect for what he had in mind.

It was inside this shed that he first discovered the mysteries that lied beyond the panties, and how to make a girl scream whatever you wanted her to.


But, all that was now distant memory. He was a lot older and with a lot more experience in these matters. He had also found out something even more sexually arousing and satisfying than filling up a girl’s vagina with his dick and pounding her till she went hoarse screaming his name. He had found out that, for him, it was better and more exciting to add a little bit of inventiveness to how he treated his prey every time they were caught in his snare.
He found he enjoyed it more, when he had his girls either strung to the bed, the chair or generally rendered incapacitated and helpless against the power and force of his sexual attentions, and other undisclosed fantasies.

It was something he found rather surprising, that an unthinkable amount of girls don’t mind being tied up during sex. Even if a lot of them don’t like being banged around, once tied, there was very little they could do to stop him when he got to that part where he hit them and throttled their necks. And it was not long before he realized he was going to have to go the whole way.

It happened the first time a girl threatened to report him to the cops, immediately he knew what his calling in life was. He had gone all the way, and had never looked back ever since.

He was going to be the force in nature which answered and catered to every girl’s wildest sexual imaginations, while also giving them a way out of life’s misery while they were in his custody. And he had done this for five years, a conveyor of death and gruesome sexual encounters.

He knew what his calling was, and he was very good at delivering on all his promises.

He was the one who had perfected the art and act of sexual atrophy.


It was a very hot afternoon and coupled with the fact she just finished a three-hour marathon lecture, all Nike could think about as she strolled lazily to her hostel was to have a cold shower and a long nap. Her bones were creaking with fatigue, and she was sure her brain cells were almost all but dead.

It’s cruel how lecturers would ask students to come in for a 7 a.m. class on a Saturday and then not show up until 11 a.m. and only to then lecture for three hours plus straight without a break. Even if they had a break, where were they to get food at the campus?

She will eat as soon as she got to her room. She mentally thought about what her meal will consist of as she walked past the library, which was now very deserted, and then past the faculty of social anthropology. She took little notice of whom or what was around her, as she hurried to her hostel. She was unaware of the guy who stood just under the shade of the big tree by the footpath, looking intensely at her as she strolled past. She also didn’t notice the smirk on his face as she walked past him, or the look in his eyes as he focused on her back as she went.

God knows she was tired of the school. She couldn’t wait to be done with her last year and move into the real world. She couldn’t begin to imagine the fun that she was sure she was going to have once she was through with schooling.

The thought of the fun after school took her all the way into the hostel and her room.

Outside, as far as she was concerned, all was well with the world.


He knew she was the next one. It was easy to spot her in the group of friends at the library as they prepared to go in, leaving their bags and belongings outside. She was tall, dark and beautiful. There was no doubt she was the prima dona of the little group, they all hung on her words and fell back for her to go into the library first. It was the atypical behavior of the animal pack – always the lesser ones followed the lead of the higher ranked ones. It was the law of nature, at that basic level.

And as an Alpha male, he only had eyes for the prima dona queen of the pack. He walked to the library and searched the small bag she had left behind. It was easy, her name was Adenike Odutola and she was in the Marketing department 400 level..

Now, he knew where to find her and her name. The rest was going to be pretty easy.
The trap was being set. All he had to do now was bait the prey to take a bite and walk right into it.


She felt someone bump her from behind, making her spill the books in her hand. It was lucky she was not sent sprawling on her face across the hall too. To make matters worse, the culprit who had bumped her only checked to be sure she was not on the floor before moving on. No apologies, not even a second look behind as he went away.

NIke was furious. The sheer lack of concern for the well being of the afflicted made her bristle with anger as she picked up her books, dusted them and looked around for anything else that might have fallen from her grasp. She composed herself, amidst the several voices telling her sorry and made her way after the guy.

He couldn’t have gone far and she had seen his face. She was confident she would recognise him if she ever saw him again.

He was beautiful.

She forced herself to suppress any positive thought towards her earlier aggressor. She had to be primed to be in ‘counter-attack’ mode when she finally caught up with him. Someone has to teach him manners and how to respect and treat a lady.

It was even worse that he had stopped and taken a look at her. That made it painful. He had had a good look at her and yet, in spite of all her beautiful attributes and charm, he had not taken the high way of male chivalry to even show concern for her. That was unusual and unexpected. Most other guys would have taken a second or third look at her, then found a way to try and strike up a conversation.

This was different. But, that was why she needed to put the guy back in his place.
“Hey! You in the hat,” she saw him stop. He didn’t turn around though, just stood and waited for her to catch up with him.

“You almost broke my legs back there,” she hoped her voice dripped of all the displeasure she wanted it to effect on the guy. As she caught up with him and turned to face him, she found all her earlier resolve to be stern melt away.

She stood before him, unable to construct her thoughts properly let alone conjure the correctness of mind to voice them into actual words. It was like her brains had been scrapped off and replaced with scrambled eggs, or even worse, chaff.

“You said?” He was smiling and that made her even more discomfitted. It was like he was deriving pleasure at her situation. He wore his smirk on his face like an accusing finger poking her in the face. She knew she had to say something to save herself the total embarrassment that was about to befall her. And she also knew, deep in her soul, that she was lost to the charm of this boy.

She had lost the war, and had no hope of ever winning any battle where he was concerned. It was not true to type for her. This was an anomaly, but at this point she didn’t care.

“Well, since you really do not have much to say to me right now I think I will just head on to class,” he smiled once more at her as he turned around and left her standing right there clutching her books to her chest.

‘OMG Nike!’

She told herself she had to breath before she collapsed. She wheeled round in the opposite direction and walked away. If it were possible she was a dog, she imagined people could see her tails between her legs as she slunk away.
– TBC-

Author: shaiontheprowl

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