Interview with the Giggling, Sadistic Schoolgirl!!

By Candace Apples

I first saw him in the hall. I’d excused myself to get a drink of water from the fountain, and there was this tall, thin man standing nearby, writing furiously in a small notebook. He looked like a college professor. A real academic. He was wearing a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches and had thick eye-glasses. He had a really nervous look about him.

When I walked up to the fountain and bent over to get my drink, I imagined that he was... I don’t know, observing me or something.

I didn’t see him again until after school. I was anxious to get home because my mom’s bull, Dennis, was going to be working out!

“Uh, excuse me?”

I t was such a soft, mousy voice.

“Yeah?”

He had that notebook out again. “Are you Candace Apples?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, very pleased to meet you. I’m ah Samuel Sorenson. I’m in a doctorate program at Harvard. I’m studying evolutionary inter-species traits as a cross-discipline with human sociology, and I understand that you’re something of an expert on the matter. I was hoping we could compare notes.”

I just gazed at him, open-mouthed. My cherry bubblegum nearly fell out of my mouth. “Mister,” I said. “You sure use a lot of fancy words. I think you got me confused with the wrong gal.”

“No, no..” He consulted his notebook. “You’re Candace Apples. You own and maintain the blog gigglingviolence.blogspot.com?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Well, my colleagues and I find your work most fascinating. You enjoy... er, become aroused... if I’m not mistaken, by the prospect of men... fighting?”

I smiled, proceeded chewing. “Yup!”

"And that the more, er, violent the fight, the more aroused you become?”

I giggled, grew warm between my legs just thinking about violence, and began twirling my blonde hair absently with my fingers. “You got it!”

“Well, that is a very peculiar sociological trait, one that is difficult to, er, account for in our modern society. I was hoping I could interview you for my thesis.”

“Are you just trying to fuck me?”

“No, no!” He grew red and stammered. “No, I’m a happily married man! Really, this is pure research!”

"Well, okay. Gosh, I’ve never been interviewed before!”

So that was how I met Samuel Sorenson. He came over to the house later that evening. My mom and I were sitting in the workout room, sipping lemonade, while Dennis did bench presses.

“Seventeen...” he grunted. “Eighteen...” The sweat was really pouring from his perfectly sculpted body. Mom and I both shivered with delight.

“...nineteen...”

“Don’t stop, Dennis, dear,” said my mom, sipping at her white wine. “Remember, if you get to twenty-five, I’ll let you have a drink.” She dangled a pitched of cold, ice water tantalizingly in front of him.

“...yes...ma’am...” he grunted. There was hot sweat running down his face and into his eyes and mouth.

My mom took out a fan and began fanning herself. I could tell she was becoming extremely aroused and was having trouble sitting still.Just then my dad appeared in the doorway. He cleared his throat.

Mom sighed. “What do you want, you pathetic wimp? Can’t you see we’re busy?”

Whatever it was must have been important. Dad hated being in the same room as Dennis when he was working out. It just drove home his adequateness.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, honey...” he said quickly, looking down at his feet. “There’s someone at the door. For Candace.”

“Oohh! It must be Samuel!” I stood up and smoothed out my skirt.

“Here, fan me,” said my mom, handing her fan to Dad.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“...twenty...five..!” gasped Dennis, setting the barbell up.

“Very good, Dennis.” Mom picked up the pitcher, acted like she was about to pour it into a glass. Then, instead, she smiled and poured it out into a potted plant. Then she leaned back and opened her legs wide. “Now come get your drink.”

I giggled, then walked down the hallway. There was Samuel, looking just as uncomfortable as he had at the school.

"This house is amazing!” he muttered, inspecting everything. You would have thought he was at a museum or something. “I had no idea... this artwork... these rugs!”

“My mom makes a lot of money!” I explained. “She’s very successful!”

“And you even have your own butler. I didn’t know people even had butlers anymore.”

I was confused for a moment. “Butler?”

“Yes, that gentleman who answered the door and took my jacket.”

“Oh!” I laughed. “That’s just my dad!"

“Really? But he seemed so... formal. He didn’t even look at me.”

“He has to act that way or else my mom will have him punished. Come on, you want to see my room?”

“Um...” He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Certainly.”

“Excuse the mess, “ I told him once we were upstairs. I pushed all my stuffed animals off of the bed.

“You certainly, er, like the color pink,” he observed.

“Yup!” I bounced up on the bed and brought my bare knees up to my chest. “Now, what did you want to talk about?”

“Right.” He sat on the edge of the bed and brought out his notebook and a small tape recorder. “To begin with, Ms. Apples, I was hoping you could describe - in your own words - what it is about men fighting that you find so... appealing?”

“Oh, gosh!” My eyes sparkled. “I don’t know where to start... It’s just everything about it, you know? It’s their muscles and their bodies... It’s the way they grunt... It’s the brutality of it, it just makes me feel alive, you know? Like anyone can buy you flowers, right? Anyone can take you out for dinner! Anyone can slip your panties off and fuck you up the ass, grab your tits and shoot their load all over your face! But for a man to beat up another man for you... golly, it’s just the most wonderful thing a woman could hope for!”

“So, you would say its the inherent masculinity? Kind of a primeval survivalism?”

“It makes my pussy wet.”

“Yes.” He kept writing. “And do you feel empathy for the, ah, loser?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if there are two subjects fighting for your affections, and one of them should become injured...”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

“Do you feel bad for the loser?”

I giggled, somewhat confused. “That’s a silly question. He’s the loser. Why would I feel bad?”

“Well, because a man is in pain.”

“Yeah...” I swooned.

“A man is... beaten up, injured.”

“Yup!” I was starting to get excited again, just imagining it.

“Right.” Samuel cleared his throat. “I guess what I’m trying to get at is... say, if I saw someone in pain, for example, I might offer to help, I might call an ambulance, whereas you...”

“You’re cute, you know that?”

“Well, thank you. But...”

“I’m afraid its time for my favorite cartoon. Can we do this again some other night?”

“Uh, sure, sure.” He closed his notebook and shut off his tape recorder. “I think I have more than enough material for the night. I’ll, uh, find my own way out. Thanks.”

As he left the room, I had already turned on the television. Daffy Duck got hit on the head with an anvil, and I laughed and laughed and laughed.

He came by the house the next night.

“I was hoping we could talk a little about your experiences growing up. Your family life.”
We were in the living room drinking tea.

“Why?”

“Well, it may shed some light on how... er, how you got to be the way you are.”

“Which way?”

“For example, you mentioned that your mother sometimes has your dad punished. Is this a physical punishment?”

“I’ll say!”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Oh, I love it! It’s great fun! Sometimes my girlfriends will come over to watch! First, my mom makes him do something ultra humiliating and disgusting, like clean the toilets with his tongue, and then she’ll yell at him for doing a sloppy job of it, and then she’ll call Dennis!”

“Dennis?”

“Mm-hmm! That’s her bull! He is so dreamy! Anyway, Dennis will come in and just start beating him up. And my dad starts screaming out and trying to protect himself! He’s so pathetic! One time he even tried to fight back! Oh, its so great to watch!”

“But... but think about what you’re saying! My god, I mean, how do you think that makes your dad feel?”

“Hmmm... I never thought about it that way.”

“How could you have never thought about it?! For Christ’s sakes, what’s the matter with you?!”

“I thought you like me..!”

“I do... it’s just hard for me... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t judge. Sociologists don’t judge. It’s just... Never mind. Where were we?”

“Here, let me show you something. It’s their wedding album.”

He flipped through it. There were all these pictures of my mom looking positively gorgeous in her wedding dress, down on her knees and sucking Dennis’ cock while my dad - the groom - looked on and cried.

“This is ghastly!” said Samuel, flipping through it slowly.

There were more pictures of dad being beat up, thrown headfirst into the cake while my mom and her maids of honor looked on and laughed.

“Horrible...” I noticed his eyes seemed to linger on the photos of mom’s heaving breasts, falling out of her torn wedding dress, as Dennis face was was buried in her crotch, pussy juice dripping in pools.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” I asked, putting a hand on Samuel’s knee. “Doesn’t looking at them make you want to just start screwing?”

“Yes. I, er...” He stood suddenly. “Candace, I know this may be hard for you to understand, but I believe you may have suffered some sort of childhood trauma - I mean, this is abnormal! Highly, highly, highly abnormal! And it is clearly having negative affects on you! I mean, you seemingly  have no capacity for empathy! Technically speaking, you’re a sociopath!”

I lay back on the bed, put my finger to my lips and lifted up my skirt so he could see my pink panties. “I like those big words you use.”

“For God’s sake, you’re an 18 year old girl! I’m a happily married man! I have a daughter your age!”

“What’s her name?”

“Er, Sue is her name. But the point is...”

“I bet she’s real pretty. Does she look like me? You can call me Sue if you want.”

“What?!”

“You’ve gone stiff, Daddy. I can see it through your pants.” I reached out and touched his manhood. “Call me a sociopath again, daddy. Say it slowly.”

“I... I... Holy Jesus.” He breathed heavy. “I have to go. Goodbye!” And in another moment he was gone.

I have to say, I wasn’t too surprised to see him lurking outside my classroom the next day.
“Hiya, Professor Sorenson!” I said with a big wave and a bounce.

“Candy... Miss Apples... Hello.” He looked very embarrassed. “I wonder if I might have a word with you?”

“Sure thing!” I popped the gum that I was chewing.

“This is hard for me to admit, but, well... I can’t get you out of my mind. After last night, I... I...”

“Go on!” I began to trace my finger down his chest.

“I wondered if we might, er, see each other. Socially.”

“That would be great! In fact, there’s going to a big fight right after school today! All the girls are going to be there!”

“Really? A fight?”

‘Mm-hmm. And you know me! Nothing gets me more in the mood than watching a fight! And if there’s blood... I can’t hardly contain myself!”

“I’ll be there!” said Professor Sorenson..“I’ll fucking be there!”

“Great!” I giggled.  “See you then!” And I went back into my class. It was quite a scene after school. Word had spread and all of us girls were there. The red-headed twins - Marlene and Darlene - Marianne, Cindy-Lou. And they were dressed for a fight. Low tops with lots of cleavage! Short skirts and long legs! Oh, there was nothing more exciting than the prospect of a fight!

So where is he, Candy?” asked Marianne.

“He’ll be here!”

Sure enough, there came Proffessor  Sorenson. “Sorry I’m late. I had a very important conference call with the university. Did.. did it start?”

“Nope, you got here just in time! I’d like yo to meet my friends. This is Marlene...”

“Charmed.”

“Darlene.”

“A pleasure.”

“Marriane.”

“How do you do?”

“And good ol’ Cindy-Lou!”

“Pleased to meet you.”

They all just looked at him with wide-eyes and grins.

“So, you ladies all enjoy watching men fight for... sexual gratification?”

“Mm-hmm!” said Marlene, biting her lower lip.

“I must say, this is fascinating to meet so many of you at once.” He began scribbling in his pad. “Id love to get a chance to talk with you - all of you - afterward...”

Suddenly, there was an intake from the crowd. A large man strode into the center of the proceedings. He was at least six and a half feet tall. Huge muscles rippled through his arms and neck. And he looked angry! All the girls “Ooo’d!” and “Ahh’d.” The boys looked down at their feet, not wanting to make eye-contact.

“So that is, Mr. Rex?”

“That’s right, Sammy. Do you mind if I call you ‘Sammy?’” I ran a hand through his hair.

“Not at all, Ms. Apples... Er, Candy.. I... My, your’e becoming quite aroused, aren’t you?”

It was true. My chest was heaving and I was drooling just a bit. “It’s always so... electric, right before a fight.”

He reached out for me. He couldn’t help himself.

“Ah ah ah!” I teased. “Wait until after the fight!”

“Whatever you say.” He turned back toward Rex. “So who is he fighting anyway?”

I giggled.

Rex was closer now.

“Hi-ii Re-ex!” said Marlene and Darlene in unison.

He leaned in and gave Darlene a kiss on her boobs while he groped Marlene. They both shivered and giggled, bouncing on the balls of their feet.

He grunted and came forward until he towered over me. He was so tall, he blotted out the sun! “Well, Candy,” he said in a deep voice. “Where is he?”

I pointed at Professor Sorenson. “Right here!”

“What..? What are..?” but Rex had grabbed Samuel by the collar and hoisted him up off the ground, causing the good professor to drop his pencil and pad of paper. “No... Stop! Candy!”
I just laughed and clapped my hands together. “You should see your face right now!” I gleamed.

Rex tossed him into a heap. The crowd parted and formed a circle.

“No... there’s been a mistake!” Samuel kept muttering, trying to get back up.

WAM! Rex laid into him with a mighty fist in the face.

“Whee!” shouted Marianne, jumping up and down.

POW! Another fist. There was blood pouring from Samuel’s face. His eyes were already swelling.

“I will fuck you up, motherfucker!” growled Rex.

Pussy juice were creeping down my thighs, it was such a delicious feeling, such a delicious sight. I wiped the drool form my mouth and came forward. “Get me in it, Rex! Splatter me!”
Rex grinned, hoisted up his lifeless body, then backhanded him hard to that blood sprayed out across my chest and clothes. It was so warm!

“Candy....” Sam groaned. “Make him stop....Please...”

“Aw...”I pouted. “I’m sorry, but I have no capacity for empathy, remember?”

“I can’t believe he actually thought you liked him!” cackled Marianne.

Rex then took his arm and twisted it. We all shivered orgasmically at the sound of cracking bones. Finally, he brought down a boot hard on the professor’s face.

“There, fucked him up good!” he announced.

“Oh, you were great!” I cheered, running forward an embracing him with my squishy, blood-covered tits.

Rex waste no time. He hoisted me up, took down my panties and began thrusting himself inside of me. I screamed out in pleasure, his cock felt so fucking good! He grabbed onto my tits and squeezed them as hard as he could!

“Take that, you bitch!”

“Call me a sociopath, Rex! Call me a sociopath!”

“Fuck you!” he said, and squirted himself up inside me and all up and down my legs. Then he grabbed Darlene and said, “You’re next, you cunt!”

“Hee-hee!” she squealed. “Don’t take it easy on me!”

All the meanwhile, poor Professor Sorenson looked at us. I do believe he was crying. I picked up his notebook and tossed it at him. “Well,” I said. “I hope you have enough material for a paper now!”

It was clouded over and looked like rain, so I left him laying there and hurried home. It was Dennis’ work out night after all, and I didn’t want to be late!