The Wasps

 

Page 1.

 

            Sometimes, a spectacular approach to torturing a woman just presents itself. All of a sudden the possibilities are there and it's all too enticing and fascinating to pass up.

            So it was with the wasps. Some call them hornets or yellow jackets. All I knew was, get them mad and they would sting like Hell.

            It didn't take long with the Internet to determine their behavior. Only the females sting (how appropriate) and then only certain ones of the females, the 'defenders'  are designated to carry out this defensive task. They can sting more than once, although sometimes their stinger is left in the victim, first go, and sometimes not at all. They do not die just because they've stung but if that was their job in the colony and their stinger's gone, then they're banished since they're no longer of use. At night when it gets cool, they return to the nest and are pretty well in a sedated state, like asleep or groggy. In the morning, when the sun warms up their nest, out they come to begin another day's routine, sort of like a lot of people.

            I had her captured for several weeks now, beautiful and bold, perfect slim body and tons of superior attitude. She was pretty well a Madeleine Stowe look alike, (in Unlawful Entry, 1992) same hard little tits and tight ass and proud, saucy face like she needed to be bashed. Sitting there doing nothing, still she was just asking for it.

            She was holding up as well as I expected, (since I had a pretty good idea about their general breaking points by now) to my onslaught of unrelenting sexual abuse and repeated rapes in all manner of different and often difficult (for her) positions. I fucked her suspended by her ankles with weights pinched on her nipples. Upside down. With my dick. In her spread cunt. And that was a challenge since all the angles were wrong. I had to build a temporary scaffold.

            Anyhow, on this day, I had her attached to the ceiling by her wrists. The rest of her was free to wriggle and kick or to writhe.

Overall she was still strong and defiant so what happened next surprised me a little. I had seen her reaction to a single wasp buzzing around her while she was tied up, like I said, helpless. She was really afraid, quite terrified she'd be stung.

 

Page 2.

           

            With her arms tied to the ceiling,  she couldn't swat it or anything. She was almost suspended but could stand on her tip toes to relieve some of the weight from her wrists. Of course, she could only do this so long before her feet would hurt and she'd have to let down which would hurt her arms even more. She just couldn't win and now the bug.

            When the wasp circled her and landed on her chest at the top of her breast, (she was naked except for silk briefs I'd burned the crotch out of while they were on her) she swung wildly, trying to scare it away. It was spectacular to watch and I had to video record it, it was all so entertaining. But all this served to do was make her sweat which attracted the insect even more and eventually it stung her in her tit about two inches to the side of her nipple. How utterly excellent and I caught the exact moment on the recorder, as her face contorted in response. Then again it would have been so much more perfect if it had stung her nipple, left its poisonous stinger right in a milk duct.

            Which, being who I am, it got me to thinking, how to arrange that.

            So the first things I needed were the wasps. I knew where the nest was up under the eave and it was quite accessible from the verandah railing which was flat enough to stand on. I collected a clear plastic container about a foot square and eighteen inches deep. It had a snap on lid which had to be pried off once in place. I cut a round hole in the side just under an inch  in diameter. I covered the hole with duct tape on the outside.

            I waited until about midnight and went to capture the nest. I held the container just under it and used a wide, flat trowel to detach it from the eave in one smooth cut. It plopped into the container and I quickly got down and snapped the lid on. It took about ten seconds, but one by one they began coming out, the defenders with the stingers, the females designated  to sting and repel any aggression. They were mad as a hornet, you might say and their buzzing was intense. Because of the cold and the dark, they still weren't at full throttle. When I went inside where it was warm and bright, in no time there was a furious army of about two hundred buzzing, enraged little friends of mine.

 

Page 3.

 

            For this particular entertainment, I had tied her to the bed, full spread eagled, after she was stung while suspended. I told her I had a surprise for her but it'd have to be later.

            Now it was later.

            I took the buzzing container to the side of her bed and set it on a table.

            'What? What are you doing? What time is it? Why do you have those?'

            'Remember I told you I had a surprise for you?' I reminded her.

            She just looked at the wasps and at me and didn't reply.

            'Well this is it. They're it.' I said.

            'What do you mean? They're it? You're not making sense.'

            'You'll see. It'll all come together.'

            'What are you going to do? Why do you have them?'

            I left the container and got right up onto the bed with her like I'd done dozens of times already. I slid my middle finger full into her spread pussy and pushed her clit against her cunt bone. I jabbed at her cervix and went back to her clit digging my nail into it almost creasing her.

            'No. No. Stop it. Not that again. You said you wouldn't any more. Please..'

            'Fuck you. You deserve this.' I said as I scraped her.

            Then I went to where her tit had been stung and pinched the little hole where the stinger showed as a tiny black dot surrounded by a swollen white ring and I pinched her really hard like I was trying to force it back out like removing a sliver. A tiny bit of blood showed.

            'Ow. Ouch. Stop it.'

            'You know, that was a pretty smart wasp. It must have been horny, a horny hornet, biting you on the tit. What if it'd stung you on the nipple? What would you have thought of that?'

            'Stop it please. Please, it hurts.'

            'Yeah, but I should get it out, like taking out a splinter.'

            'No. Please just leave it in. It's OK. I'm OK with it. Just..'

            'No. I want it out.' I insisted.

 

Page 4.

           

            I retrieved a hat pin, about three inches long with a pearl head and placed the point right to the center of the sting. I picked at the stinger a bit and then shoved the pin in about two inches into her tit as close to on top of the stinger as I could.

            'For God's sake, what do you think you're doing? For God's sake stop it. You didn't have to do that to get it out.'

            I suppose she was right but I just liked the look and the feel of it. The moment the flesh yields to the point to be pierced, first the dent and then the puncture and how it looked sticking out of her since it wasn't supposed to be there.

            'No. No. This should work. You'll see, it'll work.'

            'What do you mean? Work what?' She was perplexed and suspicious.

            'I'm going to jerk the pin out, rip it out real fast and the stinger should come out with it. Don't you think?'

            'No, please. No. Just leave it like I said.

            'On the count of three.'

            Please. Don't. Please stop. I'm Ok with it in.'

            'One.'

            'No. No just don't.'

            'Two.'

            'Be reasonable, please be...'

            'Three.'

            With that I yanked the pin out and a shot and spray of blood followed along after it. It stained my bare chest which I loved. When I licked it away, the stinger was still in her.

            'Shit, it's still there. Stubborn little bugger isn't it?'

            'Just leave it. It'll go by itself. They dissolve on their own, so just leave it please.'

            'No. No I want it out now. I guess I'll need a bigger needle, like a nail and maybe some tweezers.'

            'For God's sake, why do you have to  do it? Why are you so determined? Why do you enjoy hurting me so much? Tell me. Tell me why?'

 

Page 5.

 

            'Why? Because I can and you can't stop me and because I've done it so many times before now it's an acquired taste and because you have a cunt that needs re-arranging, like opened up. How about them whys?

How about them or you want some more?'

            'Oh no. No. Please. Why..?'

            'So fucking shut up already or I'll stick you where it really hurts.'

            She turned whiter than before since she knew for certain her slit was in play for the piercing so she shut up. She was crying inside but kept it from sneaking out, at least for now.

            I found a four inch finishing nail from my stash of piercing goodies and also found a standard pair of sharp pointed tweezers. I'd use the nail first and the tweezers next if it didn't work. I cleaned her off again from the additional blood seepage and clearly could make out the stinger and the hole I'd made with the hat pin. The nail had a much greater diameter and was spiral and rough from being galvanized. I brought the relatively blunt point to her and shoved it in right where the first hole showed. It took considerable force but felt lovely as the flesh burst. She screeched harder and I pushed harder until the nail was three inches into her. She didn't like it at all and neither did her tit.

            'Oh God please. That hurts. That really hurts. Please don't do any more. So please. So please. I'm begging..'

            Well we still have to get it out. Pull it out to finish the job.'

            'No. It'll hurt too much. And it's so rough it'll tear a rough hole in my breast. Look at my breasts. Don't you like them? How they look. I know they're not very big but I've been told they're beautiful. I like my breasts, look at them. Why do you want to make a mess of them? Please. Just please don't do it. Don't let it, the nail do it. How else can I beg you?'

            'You really don't want me to?'

            'Of course I don't. Of course.' She sensed a bit of false hope.

            'You're sure?'

            'Yes. Yes I'm sure. I don't want you to.'

 

Page 6.

 

            'OK then. OK. That's fine. But it has to come out.'

            'What? But you said. What?'

            'It has to come out so that means you'll have to do it.'

            'Oh no. No. That's not what I meant. You know that. No I can't. You know I can't.'

            'But now you have to. You have no choice. You told me you were sure you didn't want me to, so now you have to do it.'

            'No. That's not right. You can't make me. I won't. What'll you do if I refuse? You cant make me.'

            Of course, that was just the challenge I needed. Like a red flag to my prick.

            She was in for it extra now.

            I undid her from the bed, cuffed her wrists in front of her and dragged her by the hair to a chair about eighteen inches high. I got her up to stand on it using her cunt as a grip while hugging her ass. I pulled her arms straight up above her head by attaching the cuffs to a rope through  a hook in the ceiling and then fixed to a ratchet device which would allow me to raise or lower her at will.

I snapped a pair of vice grip pliers onto the protruding nail head and let them hang down on her tit. I made sure they were the heavy ones and that hurt her extra. Now I tied a line from the pliers to the ceiling pulled tight and the whole arrangement pulled her tit pretty well straight up into a cone shape. Her tits may have been little but now they were little and long. I took lots of close up digital stills since it looked so great. Now I let off  her wrist line about three feet.

            Finally all was ready.

            'What do you think happens next?' I asked.

            'I don't know. You're crazy so how could I possibly know?'

            'Well guess. Use your intelligent imagination.'

            'No. Fuck you. I said I don't know.'

            'What happens next is you get the nail out.'

            'But I can't. My arms. I can't reach.'

            'Sure you can. You don't have to reach. All you have to do is step or jump off the chair and out the nail comes. See how it works now?'

 

Page 7.

 

            'You're vicious and mean and I won't. I can't.'

            'I'm in no hurry. Eventually you'll have to. You can't stand like that forever. Like, you'll fall asleep. What then?'

            'Oh shit and shit. How can you do this. How can you dream up such perversions? Such travesties?'

            'I liked perversions better. But travesties isn't that bad either. You speak pretty good, like educated and all.'

            'I'm  university... I can't.  Please. Just please. I can't endure it.'

            'Well just step down then and you won't have to wait. It's going to happen anyway so better sooner than after. Don't you think?'

            'No I don't think that. I don't want it at all, to do it at all.'

            'That makes sense, but I could make you.'

            'No, you said you weren't in any hurry. I could take as long as I want even if I fell asleep, so do what you said and leave it to me.'

            'I think I've changed my mind. I'd like you to get on with it so I can get on with something else I've got planned for you.'

            'I will not. I won't. What? Have you got to do now?'

            'Never mind. Just jump down.'

            She flatly refused and just stood there trembling but still defiant. Geeze I wanted to stick it in her ass but first the nail had to be torn out. It was just arbitrary but it was also the beauty of having absolute control, doing what I wanted just because I could. I got up slowly, went to her and let my hands roam all over her and inside her. I pushed on her lightly like I was going to shove her off the chair. She jiggled and did a little dance to keep her balance and her legs trembled her cunt right in my face. She peed a squirt down her leg.

            'Stop it please. I'll fall. No.'

            'Isn't that the idea?'

            'No stop it.'

            I stepped back and gripped onto her cunt and pulled forward like I was going to bring her right off.      If I'd let go she would have fallen she was so arched. I pushed her back so she could continue standing.

            'Fucking wimp. Stupid wimp, cunt bitch. What good are you? Can't even hold your piss.  ' I spit at her.

 

Page 8.

 

            She looked relieved, but beaten and still wouldn't step down on her own. She tested the pain in her tit by lowering herself a little thus having the nail pulled tighter to see if she could ease it out. But it just hurt too much and she had to back off after each try.

            Now it was time to play for keeps.

            I retrieved a lever action Daisy BB rifle I'd had for years and sat down in front of her about eight feet away. I loaded it with BB's making a big show and lots of noise about it.

            'What are you up to? Please, I can't do what you said. It'll hurt too much and I could tear my breast open.'

            'You face me. You fucking face me or it's your cunt I'll slit open.'

            Without warning, I cocked the gun and fired, hitting her in the inner thigh about three inches below her crotch.

            She squealed out and begged, 'Stop it. You can't do that. It's not right.'

            'Well you make a right fine target and I can do it and I will until you get off the fucking chair.'

            I cocked the gun again and fired, hitting her up stretched arm at the elbow.

            'Yes. Stop it. I'll do it. Give me some time, a minute to get up the courage, please.'

            I fired at the pliers next and the BB ricocheted off them almost coming back to hit me. I ducked.

            'Fuck. Can't have that, can we?'

            I fired again and caught her tit about an inch off her areola, beside the pliers.

            'Stop it. You're not giving me a chance. I told you I'll do it, just let me collect myself please.'

            It was time to play dirty.

            I readied to fire again and aimed for her crease.

            She could tell.

            'No. No. You can't...'

 

Page 9.

 

            Just as she was about to step off the chair, I fired and it lodged in the soft tissue of her outer labia, but inside. She shrieked great wails and more flew off the chair. The nail ripped out and hung there all bloody from the pliers and she slumped down unconscious, hanging by her wrists. I walked right up to her, BB gun in hand, cocked. I got down to inspect the wound in her cunt. Fuck it was neat, precise, like a punch hole. I had to give it a friend. I pressed the muzzle of the rifle right beside her injury and fired again. I wrapped my arm around her ass tight and pulled her to my face. I pried her open with my other hand and pinched the entry holes. I could feel both of them in her like two peas in a cunt, about a quarter inch apart. I pulled her up tight by the wrists using the ratchet until she was suspended about two inches off the floor. I got a low wooden box to stand on and used it to help me fuck her hanging like that. The nail had torn a pretty ragged hole in her tit, pulled some of the milk duct shit out so I assumed the stinger came out too.

            Mission accomplished, so as to say.

            Anyhow, I did her unconscious and it only took about twenty thrusts for me to cream her. I let her hang there awhile, while I cleaned up and then got her down and re-tied to the bed, spread eagled again. I'd taken about an hour and a half  being side-tracked and really wanted to get back to the wasps. They had their missions and certainly sounded impatient.

            I brought her to with the smelling salts.

            'Oh God. You shot me. Me in my... Oh God. How could you? How could you do that?'

            'Twice. I shot you twice in the cunt and I'd like to a hundred, no five hundred times, right into your clit head. But that wouldn't be practical,  would it?'

            'No. No. You didn't. I can't tell. You didn't. Say you didn't.'

            I walked up to her, BB gun in hand again and levered it.'

            'You think I'm lying. I'd lie about blasting your twat twice?'

            'No. You didn't.'

            'Twat twice. Twat twice. Has a ring to it doesn't it? Sort of musical and comical.'

 

Page 10.

 

            'No. Please don't taunt me or make fun of me. It's not at all funny.'

            'Twat thrice, yeah, three times. Twat thrice, lets say we go for that.' I laughed meanly.

            'Stop it. Stop. I didn't mean that.'

            I traced the gun barrel down her stomach, over her bush to the top of her slit. If I fired then, she'd have a holy clit. I wanted to, so badly, but held off and went down lower to where I'd already shot her  twice and wriggled the barrel in nicely and while looking her right in the eyes, gave her the third pellet. She lurched forward and flopped back and was out cold again. No fucking stamina, the bitch. But then how would I like it, or hold up, if some cunt was firing them into my pecker head?

            So yeah, fuck that must have hurt. From what I could tell, feeling around inside her, the last pellet went in through one of the previous wounds. Great fucking shot I was from half an inch away.

            Anyhow, enough already with the BBing her. The wasps were even more impatient.

            When I brought her to this time, she didn't argue much or contradict me at all. She was going the diplomatic route. The route of reason, or so she thought she'd try.

            'So, guess what? The fucking stinger's out of your tit. It took a bit of doing, sort of convoluted you might say, but it's gone. But remember we were talking? What we were talking about?'

            'Uh. No. You're hurting me too much. No I don't.'

            'Sure you do. You just want to pretend you don't.'

            'I'm too sore to think. I don't know.'

            'I hate cunts that lie to me. That's the one thing you don't want to be doing. You'll pay. Worse than you ever thought possible. So what was it?'

            'OK. OK. You were saying about the wasp stinging my nipple, you were..'

 

Page 11.

 

            'So you knew. And you said you didn't.'

            'Yes but. No..'

            'So what did you do?'

            'No. I. Yes...'

            'What did you do?'

            'Yes. I lied to you. I'm sorry. Yes I lied. I lied....'

            She just sort of kept repeating it softly, like she was on automatic pilot, a stuck record and knew it had horrible meanings to have had to have said that to me.

            'Hey. Snap out of it. You'll pay for that later. Now I was asking you what about your nipple. The wasp stinging you. Like you said, what about your nipple? You think it'd hurt that much more? Do you suppose?'

            'Please just stop it. You're getting carried away by the violence. You have to stop it before you do something really serious to me.'

            'Well no, I don't really. I don't have to stop anything and you should know by now I'm only getting started. So why don't we find out? That's the surprise. We're gonna find out.'

            'You're  crazy and the chances of that are slim to none, so don't bother even trying.'

            'Well maybe there's a way.' I offered.

            'What? No way. They don't sting on command where you want. No way.'

            'Maybe not. Maybe so.' I replied enigmatic.

            I climbed up on her and gave her a slow fifteen minute, uneventful fuck. It was like blowing my nose, by now, only it was my load. I just loved the fact I could do it at the slightest whim whenever and however I wanted. I owned her hole and the three BB's imbedded in it, which she must have gone numb by then because she barely protested about the pain in her labia, like it was anesthetized. When I pulled out I was back to the hornets at last.

            I shook the container to really stir them up good and I shone a bright light into it and they buzzed berserk. The defenders, all two, to three hundred of them wanted to sting something.

 

Page 12.

 

            I had a test tube and also a large syringe with a plunger, I'd adapted for my vile purposes and decided to start  with the test tube. It was an inch and a quarter in diameter and sort of a yellow Pyrex and was eight inches long, (like a puny dildo). I pulled the duct tape from the hole in the side of the container and held the test tube opening to it, tight. In about five minutes, four of the little buzzing buggers had crawled into it. I slid a cap onto the test tube end and re-taped the container's side hole. I had my soldiers. My prisoners of whore for the bitch.

            She couldn't believe what she saw. I was climbing up onto the bed, onto her holding a sort of clear test tube with wasps furiously buzzing inside. It was to say, the rest was pretty easy but utterly delightful. I'd thought up something else, at the last moment, and had tongs and a little butane fire starter within easy reach.

            'What are you doing? What the Hell are you up to. You must be mad, more than demented. You're preposterous.'

            'That's interesting. I've been called a lot of nasty things by terrified cunts, often at the top of their lungs, but preposterous, that's a new one. Demented. That's OK. I'll thank you for that compliment, but preposterous. You're gonna pay for that. You're fucking going to pay and I don't mean this.' I paused. 'And oh, by the way, I'm not mad, but they are.'

            With that I held the test tube opening just off her nipple, slid the cap off and pressed the tube tight into her hard little tit. Her nipple pushed right up inside like a target, an invitation to the wasps. She tried to thrash me off but I had puled her arms and legs so tight it was pointless but it felt terrific just the same, and seeing her rib cage all distended as she tried to twist away was extra fabulous. I pushed a big pillow under her head so she could watch, had to watch, their progress.

            After about five minutes, the first wasp was right on her nipple but didn't bite her. I flicked the side of the tube with my fingers and they buzzed more angrily. Another was back on her bud but still didn't bite. Mostly they wanted to be at the closed, round end away from her.

 

Page 13.

 

            I'd take care of that. I mean, enough was enough. It'd been twenty minutes already and not a single bite.

            I held the tube fast with the tongs and lit the fire starter. It was like a small handgun you clicked the trigger to keep the flame and let go to extinguish it. I applied the flame to the closed end of the tube. In no time the air inside started to heat up. The hornets were being attacked, like roasted. I shut the flame down and it had done the trick. The little buggers were beyond pissed and the first was onto her bud and gave her the stinger but more off to the side. She shrieked, partly too since she could feel the heat of the test tube on her areola, but it was being stung that really brought out the cries. She probably didn't think she had that much volume in her and while it almost hurt my ears it was pure music for me, a rhapsody of wails and a parade of protests.

            'For God's sake. Stop it. (Couldn't she think of anything else to say? Like something original?) You're a maniac. You fucking maniac. Stop it.'

            'What, no preposterous? Not a preposterous maniac? More like a serious one now? Don't you think?'

            'Go to Hell. Go all to fucking Hell.'

            'That's not very lady like or gentile. Not very educated like you were about to say before. University. University cunt. Think you're better. Think your cunt's better. Yeah, you're right, it's better for torturing. Oh yeah, so let's see again.'

            I applied the flame again, only a bit longer and within ten seconds the others were stinging her just perfect, like they knew what they had to do to get free. Their stingers were almost side by side, on top of each other, right down her nipple's center. Like a dart's bull's eye. They weren't dead so I contained them and returned them to the others. They were my bud biting buddies and I saluted them for a job done perfect.

            I wanted to study how her nipple looked now. It was beautiful fantastic. I could see the three black dots and she was swelling up, on top of already being erect. I pinched her and suckled her and got my teeth on to her also.

 

Page 14.

 

            I was ready to rape her again mainly because her intense cries of pain were exciting my cock so much. Her nipple was swelling up even more, becoming like a tiny, smooth balloon, instead of textured, and the bigger it got the more it primed my pump. I knew I had to go for it. I had to do the squish, like flat as a fluke, see her burst and splatter. Popped like a zit.

            Pliers would be too fast so better to use the nipple crushers I'd designed and made myself. They were nothing very complicated, more heavy duty versions of the screw type S and M shops sell. I used two flat pieces of quarter inch steel cut three inches long and three quarters of an inch wide with matching holes at each end for threaded bolts and hex nuts to tighten down with a mechanic's socket wrench. They easily crushed a Brazil nut flat, breaking the shell and forcing all the juice out of the nut's body so a spongy nipple was never going to be a match for them. I'd utilized them to great effect and greater screams on previous victims and even managed to squish the stuffing out of inverted nipples. They were great clit crushers too and finger joint breakers.

            The bitch was in front  of me with her bulged little bulb, like Rudolph's nose. I laid the pliers in the valley between her tits and she balked, like almost barked.

            'What the Hell. Is there no end to it with you? What the bloody Hell? What are you doing now?'

            'Bloody Hell. That's about right. I want to get the swelling down. Your nipple  is up like a bull frog's throat, all smooth and distended.'

            'No. No. Just let it be, please.'

            'I'll take care of the swelling.'

            'Please just listen. No don't. Not with that, with those.'

            I picked up the pliers and got her grape between the jaws. I squeezed lightly. She said about twenty God's and no's in a row in various combinations of sincere terror.

            Imagine that, she didn't want her swollen nipple crushed.

 

Page 15.

 

            I was waiting for her to tell me not to use the pliers, to use the word, 'pliers'.

            'Oh God. For God's sake, it's inhuman. I'm a human being. And it's inhuman to do that with pliers to a woman, especially after how you made them sting me. Stop it please. Just, just stop it.'

            'And you said it couldn't be done. What was it you said, 'the chances of that are slim to none', so what do you think now?'

            'Yes, you're right. You made them do it, so that they's do it, but don't use the pliers. I implore you.'

            'Implore? University shit again? Very well.' I said. 'I'll use this instead.'

            'What? What is this?'

            'I call them, it, turtle pliers, turtle clamps, like super slow ones. They crush real slow and in the smallest of increments.'

            She followed with about a hundred 'Oh God no's'.

            I applied the crusher to her nipple, to each side of her expanded bud and began to tighten the two hex nuts. First one and then the other, back and forth. I did them as tight as I could using just my fingers and left her that way for awhile. While it hurt her somewhat, I think she thought I was done since they were as tight as I could get them just using my hands.

            Then I retrieved the socket wrench.

            'Time to get serious.' I gloated as I gave her a kiss and bit on her ear. She jerked her head away and spit at me. I hit her in the temple with the wrench, plenty hard. I almost knocked the cunt out. A trickle of blood was down to her cheek.

            'No. Stop it. What? Oh, you can't use that.'

            'Just watch me, cunt.'

            I paused.

            'Just feel me, cunt.'

 

Page 16.

 

            I started tightening each nut, alternately, just a tiny bit more using the wrench. It wasn't long before she was squished out pretty good. I had her flattened to about a quarter inch wide and she was howling like a banshee. Some erectile tissue and the little erection muscles were already crushed beyond healing and a respectable amount of blood mixed with opaque, milky fluid that was seeping out the protruding sides. About six more turns of each nut and she'd be crushed fully flat, like a stamped on stamp. I decided to wait, to hold off with the final crush and got into her and sliding back and forth until I greased her cervix. She barely acknowledged my cum.

            Now it was time to get nasty for real.

            I smacked her face several times and glared at her real mean and gave her a nice kiss, but then bit her lower lip. Her blood dripped to her chin and I joined it to the blood on her cheek and I streaked her chest with it. I circled her good nipple with it.

            I was back to the wasps in the big container. I shook it to stir them up again and in about five minutes and five infuriated, hostile buzzers inside the large syringe. I'd modified it so the pointy end was cut off, which left about a one inch diameter tube, about five inches long with the plunger at the other end. I'd found a cap to fit the opened end.

            I climbed up on her again, waving the device in front of her and squeezing her un-stung tit hard.

            'What is that? What? Why? Different? Why is it different?

            'It's special. I made it myself.' I said proudly, like boasting.

            As if she gave a flying fuck how it came to be, just that it was and now I was approaching her again with no mercy in my groin or eyes.

            I aimed it for her other nipple.

            'Oh no. Please don't do my other one. Please no. You've almost ruined my nipple already. What you've done. I don't think it'll heal, at least not for a long time.'

 

Page 17.

 

            Yeah, you could be right. You'd probably need plastic surgery on it, maybe even a transplant. Should be lots of spare nipples available for that.' I joked. 'I've even got a few in my collection.'

            'You're disgusting and heartless.'

            'Yeah. So? Geeze, you'd think it hurt or something. The way you're all flattened and squished out.'

            'Of course it hurts. You know that. You think I was screaming out for nothing. But you like to hear me scream, don't you...'

            'Music to my ears and dick...cunt.'

            She continued right on, 'That's why you did it, like a sadist. And the clamp thing's so much worse, so just stop hurting my breast, please.'

            'You're sure?' I asked.

            'Uh? What? Of what?' She was the same confused and suspicious as before.

            'You're sure you want me to stop with your tits?'

            'Of course, I'm sure. What kind of question is that? And take that thing off me. Of course I'm sure.'

            (It was a trick question, but not like a magician. She still didn't fully recognize my set ups.)

            'OK. I just wanted to be certain.'

            'Why?' She was more suspicious. She smelled a rat, besides me.

            'Why? What?' I acted dumb.

            'Why do you want to be certain, when you should already know the answer? To the obvious?'

            'Because, (and here it now came) they're going somewhere, like,' I paused for heightened terror effect, 'inside you.'

            'Oh my God. Oh my God. God. God. No. No. You can't. You can't possible. Not possibly be serious. That's inhuman. Insane. Please. Please. I'm begging you from the bottom of my heart, have a heart. Be human. No. No. No....'

            She'd really outdone herself with the pleading.

 

Page 18.

 

            'That was a pretty decent spiel. You ever begged like that before in your life? In your fucking privileged life, you stupid cunt?'

            'Just stop it. Nothing's privileged about my life now.'

            'Yeah, but you know what you said, no more nipple stings, so..'

            I had my hand, my fingers spreading her labia open. She started to buck like a Brahma bull so I had to set the syringe down, with it capped at the open end. I tied nylon cords to each of her legs right at the top at her crotch and attached them to ratchets which were anchored to the walls. I pulled everything snug and then started to really spread  her V at the hip joints. After about six more clicks of each device, I almost had her legs dislocated from her sockets. The balls almost popped out of her joints. Her V was pulled eight inches wide and the cords cut into the fatty flesh at the very top of her thighs, scrapping the flesh red and then white as some skin chaffed off. Her labia were pulled a bit open also. Now I was back to her with the hornets and she couldn't buck. I slid the cap off and shoved the syringe full into her cunt except for the end and the plunger. She was beyond disbelief and I loved how the expressions on her face melted from rage to fear to just plain utter anxiety. All as she tried to cope with the inexplicable horrors being applied to her flesh. Now I started to push on the syringe plunger forcing the wasps along. When it was fully in, they would have to be out of it and inside her cunt, crawling all about along her lining. I had about two inches to go but one must have  crawled out, into her on its own and stung her pretty well right away. Her pubic area shuddered and then wrenched and convulsed. Her shrieks reached new volumes. Fantastic notes of terror. And fantastic how her tits shook too. Even though they were small and hard they wiggled like Jello. I gave the plunger the last push and pulled the syringe out fast and pinched her labia together with two hands to close off her vaginal canal. I squeezed and  massaged her too and banged on her to stir the guys inside her up even more. The fuckers were trapped in her and it seemed like she was attacking them with the blows I gave her in her crotch and they started to let her have it like crazy.

 

 Page 19.

 

            Over and over and over, their stingers pierced her cunt lining. You have never seen a crotch convulse like that. Even with her leg joints about to be dislocated, she was managing to writhe in the most awful, but spectacular manner. She was bucking up and down, her crotch trying to twist away and all it made them do was sting her more. Now her whole hips went into convulsions and spasms as I squeezed her labia tighter shut. She seemed to finally dislocate one leg joint and for a second my grip loosened and one of the little devils wriggled out all covered with cunt slime. It tried to fly but couldn't. It was too gooed up. There were still four inside her pussy. I was guessing from her shrieks she'd been stung seven or eight times and the thing was, one was onto her cervix, right at the pucker, and about to give her the bite again.

            I watched in delight and fascination as her whole face changed from agony to abject agony and then she yelped to pass out. I let go of her cunt lips and within about ten minutes the last little yellow jacket, all covered in cunt guck, was out and away. She must have bled some because the last one out was more a red jacket. I figured for the spectacular job they'd done entertaining me, they deserved their freedoms so I let them go. Funny thing was, I wasn't into killing any living creature, insects or ants or whatever.       Just arrogant bitch cunts and they were my sport so it wasn't murder to me, but the rewards, the prizes.

            So now back to her, I wanted to revive her fast since I figured now would hurt the most so I gave her some extra whiffs of the smelling salts and a goodly number of smacks across her tear streaked face. In about five minutes she was awake screaming at the top of her lungs, her rib cage perfectly stretched, profiled so I could count them and pick one out to break if I wanted to.

            I pushed my fingers into her  and it surely felt different, unique, you might say. The three BB shots were still in her labia lip and there were multiple hard lumps on her lining wall and  one, of all things, had managed to wriggle to her clit, at the base where it joined her meat, to sting her. That must have been one of the loudest screams before her cervix got the venom.

 

Page 20.

 

            I pushed my fingers  back and forth inside  her, and she wasn't lubricating any more. I pumped faster and she just seemed to get dryer. I guess the poison had fucked up her juice glands, at least for awhile. Her fountain was paralyzed.

            No time to waste, I had a super great idea.

            What had this bitch done in life to deserve all this?

            I got a role of paper towel and shoved great wads of it into her absorbing what was left of her cunt slime. When I was finished, all her natural lubrication was gone and she couldn't secrete any more, at least not yet. I stuffed the first couple of wads into her mouth and she spit them out soon after. Still she was plenty disgusted by the taste and the act. I was going to ram fuck her, an adult woman, dry, who had numerous wasp bites inside her canal and on her vix and clit.

            What could be more perfect?

            Of course,  the almost crushed nipple still hanging there waiting to be eliminated which in all my other enjoyment, I'd almost forgotten about.

            I finished with the socket wrench and fully flattened her. She could never heal since all the guts were out and flat and the liquid sprayed about. Small wonder she'd passed out again. It took fifteen minutes with the salts and lots of face wacks to bring her to.

            'Wake up, you cunt bitch. Wake the fuck up. The best is yet to come. Lot's more to come.'

            Finally she was on to screaming at maximum volume. I thought she'd rupture her vocal cords or my ear drums, or at least burst a blood vessel in her temple.

            I gave her one last paper towel go and her cunt was like the mouth of a woman dying of thirst in the desert. Her cunt was parched and I rammed her as hard as I possibly could. I actually hurt my balls smashing into her. My prick is not all that big but I tore her pretty good, like I'd used a course rasp. She gave one high pitched wail and was out cold again. I liked them to feel the abuse so I paused and revived her again. How many times had I done that? I wondered.

 

Page 21.

 

            I continued the fun.

            Essentially  her blood became her lubricant and I did her in about half an hour. I had to bring her to several times but she'd pass right out again from the unimaginable searing pain. I pulled out of her about five minutes after blowing my load, and left her there all broken and ripped.

            I still had two more hornet tricks up my sleeve but first I had to give her the enema.

            I got her conscious again and got her tied to a table face down, her feet still on the ground but her legs spread good. I think her hip joint had cracked but not dislocated because even though she shrieked in agony with each step, she could sort of hobble along. I shoved her a couple of times just to watch her tumble and struggle to get back up. I told her I'd shoot her nipple off if she didn't try, so she did. I got the big farm  bucket and a tarp and was at her good with the basting syringe and solution. I emptied her out in about half an hour and cleaned up the mess and washed her crack squeaky clean. It stunk some but what was to come made it well worthwhile.

            When she was properly ready, I couldn't resist. My prick was flag pole straight and kept bumping her ass when I'd reach forward for a few hard tit grabs. So I fucked her almost as an aside. Her sphincter was there rosy clean and my prick was full at attention so they were meant to meet again.

            Now I was back for more of the little buzzing buggers. In ten minutes, I had five of them inside her rectum. I held a pair of her silk panties to her to keep her from farting them out. Once they started to bite her, she popped up and down like she was standing on hot coals. She'd give a little jump up with a deep shriek  and the back of her legs would jiggle (like her tits) and then tighten. I counted nine jumps in all over twenty minutes and feeling charitable, felt that was enough. Besides I was ready to fuck her again. I let them crawl out of her and fly away, which this time they were able to do. But I'm sure I only counted four. I think one had gone right up into her past her internal sphincter into her rectum, maybe into her large intestines, if that was possible.

 

 Page 22.

 

            Holy fuck, maybe I should have her swallow them.

            Whatever, I thought to myself. I figured that'd probably kill her if they stung her windpipe and her air supply got cut off if she swelled up and it wasn't my plan for her to die yet.

            I butt fucked her about half an hour after the forth little guy flew off figuring I'd take the chance my knob might get stung.

            I left her tied to the table and was pumping merrily away, cooing into her ear and twisting what was left of her crushed nipple when I couldn't believe my cock.

            It was lanced and on fire.

            I must have prick bashed the last little bugger and he gave me the good bite in return right into my purple knob. Well mother of fuck, shit, did that hurt. I yelped like a wimp and jerked out of her to inspect my injured member. There it was. The familiar black dot of venomous pain. She thought it was funny, or at least just retribution, so I gave her a hard fist drive right into her spread pussy and she stopped laughing because she was crying.

I was off to the bathroom to nurse my knob. It took awhile but the throbbing settled down and I soaked it in really hot water and then applied some ice, which took courage, and I came to the conclusion I appreciated it'd happened. Because now I had a small idea, a fraction of the idea, of the pain she was enduring and so, I was so ready to finish her the butt fuck knowing better how much it would hurt her.

            She was special sore from the punch to her labia and all throughout she moaned and only sort of protested. She was starting to cave plus I told her I'd punch her again, but lots harder,  if she didn't co-operate.

            I still had more wasp plans for her so I gave her the nice juice load and pulled out and gave her another labia  fist and then just left her tied like that since I had the last deal to set up.

            It would be a doozy.

 

Page 23.

 

            The verandah, of my house, was to the back and was recessed so it couldn't be seen from the front or the sides, plus the house was plenty secluded surrounded by forest and a hundred acres of my land. I had a six by six foot wooden storage shed built into one end of it. It was water tight and weather proof when it's door was shut  and it had a lexan unbreakable window about a foot square and a light inside I could control from outside. In about twenty minutes, I emptied it out.

            I was back inside for her and taped her mouth good. I wrapped the duct tape around her jaw about thirty layers and real tight since she was going outside (for the first and last times) and I didn't want to take any chances. I hauled her through the house, as she hobbled along with her buggered hip joint and into the storage shed. She was sort of like a sack and shrieked but it was all perfectly muffled. I tied her by the neck to the pointed ceiling and then fed the rope outside through a small hole and tied it off to the railing. I left about a foot of slack for her to jerk around. I purposely left her arms and legs fully lose for the same reason, like so she could flail. She just looked at me all scared and confused. What had I dreamed up now?

            I was back inside retrieving the wasp's nest in the container and was back to her in the shed. I pulled the lid off the container and tossed the whole works into the shed and slammed the door shut locked. The light was on and my nose pressed to the window.

            Well, talk about a dance. The whole nest split open and the fuckers were everywhere. She was twisting and swatting at them wildly all arms and legs and tits bouncing. Then they started to sting her all over. She was fully fucking terrified. I figured one might get her extra good and she might have to pass out and if she did, she'd hang herself. That's why I tied the rope off outside so I could let her lose and she could flop to the floor. After about twenty minutes of the most imaginative jigs you've ever seen, holy shit of all things, one stung her in the eye. She strained and went out cold and sprawled onto the floor and the determined fuckers kept on stinging her. I think she'd landed on a couple and squished them and this sent out a signal of some kind to the others because the fury and the intensity of their biting only increased, like to a crescendo.

 

Page 24.

 

            Didn't they know they should have been stinging me?

            After about an hour, now it was time to rescue her.

            I turned out the light and opened the shed door wide and they flew out almost like a swarm and headed for the other end of the verandah where their nest had been. They concentrated on that area and paid no attention to me as I pulled her up from the floor and half dragged her back into the house, and onto the bed.

            Well she looked like she had the measles and her eye was right swollen. She was, for the first time, sort of ugly but I still loved her anyway and proved it once again with my cock. She was the polka dot girl with little nipples all over her and I counted one hundred and thirty-eight bites not including the ones inside her cunt and ass hole.

            Geeze, how had it started? With just one accidental nip.

            Geeze, before that first one precipitously went for her tit, I'd never even thought about her having even a single sting.

            Such is fate and the creative imagination that seizes the day and the moment. Opportunity only bit me once but her about a hundred and fifty times.

            It took her almost a week for most of the effects of the big feast to wear off and her eye looked funny for another month. It almost killed her but not quite and so she was still available to me for other ingenious methods of torture and mutilations, till death do us part.

           

            How could she know?

            Why I loved the Forth of July so much more than most?

            How could she know?

            Firecrackers.

            Big, bang firecrackers.

            Like little sticks of dynamite for wherever they'd fit.

            Or could be forced to fit.

            How could she know?

 

            Hot damn.

            Hot, hot damn.

            Hot time in the cunt tonight...

 

 

           

                The Wasps:

 

               Chapter Two.

 

               And Now the Firecrackers.

 

Page 1.

 

            I was pretty proud of my self-control, the discipline I'd shown in the weeks since the wasps. Because she was so traumatized by their stinging frenzy and my subsequent fucks, now she was often  more compliant than in her earlier, rebellious and arrogant days and ways.

            It wasn't really the Stockholm Syndrome kicking in since she never, for real empathized or allied herself with me. How, in her right mind, could she? Of course, that was the thing too, how could she keep her mind right in the face of such unrelenting horrors and tortures, and not incidentally, the uncertainty of her final outcome. I didn't want a babbling bitch, like an idiot, on my hands, at least, not yet. I wanted a bright, articulate, beautiful cunt to keep on buggering and playing my sport with. To that end, I'd rationed her near daily torture sessions, no more than four a week, so she could hold up and even regenerate and remain attractive and not become all busted up and ugly. I mean, I loved her light hazel eyes, and putting the terror into them, how she'd plead all silent and endearing and entreating right from her fucking core - her soul, which I was screwing with.  But her stung eye was a bit of a fright, all puffy and lop-sided and mostly ridiculous looking and as much as I loved that it hurt her, it was off-putting to look at. I was glad when it fully healed, after about five weeks, and I could see her terrors in both of them again, like in stereo.

            By limiting my assaults, it was not to suggest, for a  moment, to sound merciful or that I ever showed her an ounce of genuine compassion. Sometimes I faked it to manipulate or disappoint her, to build her up and knock her down. She still got the fucks, usually mean, at least three times a day, like regular meals and often I had a few extra treats and snacks. She didn't even have to wonder anymore if I'd get her again. Like a Clockwork Purple knob, and Kubrick didn't know anything about real insanities and his pack of hyenas were pikers. All just in my expert opinion, of course. Which brought me to chuckling to myself, to think her biggest concern, the first time I raped her, was for me to use a rubber. More like a rubber mallet on her ovaries on an anvil.

 

Page 2.

 

            Still and all, I had the right to be proud. I could have done the crackers anytime earlier, but just loved looking at her and probing her with my fingers and dick, knowing I'd be doing it all in awhile. The anticipation was almost as erotic as the doing. Eventually was soon enough, or at least it had been.

            I had such a stash of the crackers, I could have blown up Iraq, which sometimes seemed like a sterling idea. Then our mis-led soldiers would stop dying for nothing in a war we never had a chance to win, their blood soaking into the country's God forsaken, barren sands, or was that Allah forsaken? Whatever, even psychotic rapists can have political opinions. Everything isn't about the raping, or is it? Because, more to my bent, I imagined there were a few decent cunts, even choice ones, hidden under some of those dumb burkas and wondered how Iraqi rapists knew who the good looking ones were to rape. Geeze, they couldn't even see their tits or asses under those idiotic tents. Compare that to a Malibu beach on a sweltering July day. Fuck did we American Psychos have it good, even better than fucking great, you could say, for certain. Like shooting ducklings in a barrel. Cunt, for the taking, on parade.

            Back to the point, back to the Forth of July and my extra love for the time.

            She had been pretty sullen, lately, sort of withdrawn like she was losing hope and her morose demeanor pissed me off enough.

Where was her defiance and fight? Where was her spark? (Spark, I mused to myself, because I knew she'd soon find that out.)

            She hadn't been outside since I had her do the wasp wiggle, in the storage shed on the verandah, and she asked frequently to let her see some daylight or the night stars and mostly to breath some fresh air. Her complexion was getting a little sallow and her skin not quite as elastic. (I suppose from stress.) I fed her a healthy diet and if she tried to refuse to eat, I'd use the extra horrible threats of mutilations to her cunt and next thing she'd be gobbling her meal all up. I weighed her pretty well daily to keep her the size and shape as she was when I snatched her. Five foot eight and a hundred and thirty-five pounds, a perfect size seven/eight. I kept her hair long, like she had it. Better to pull her around by it.

 

Page 3.

 

            Although, sometimes when I fed her, I could be an extra prick and mainly with the bananas but even the strawberries too. Of course, making her stick the banana up her cunt, or into her asshole, before she ate it was pretty standard fare, but making her eat the peel too, and leave it on, now that was just mean malicious.

            She'd chew forever on the hard stem and the end, before she could force herself to swallow and she'd just give me the most resigned glance when I tole her she had to do it again. It's not that it hurt, or anything. It just was a petty, mean, miserable small minded way to control her extra. She had precious few pleasures left in her lonely existence and surely eating  remained one of them and I'd found a way to bugger and spoil that too. But bananas were good for her and she got several a week.

            Now the strawberries, the game was to see how many she could jam into her pussy before she got them to eat. Eight was her best so far, and of course, it depended on how big the little buggers were.

            While on the matter of food, she wasn't too enamored when I'd throw the raw eggs at her and watch them, in amusement, run down her face or her sex targets. Still and all, eggs were that much better for her than the dart board darts. (which is another story for another chapter.)

            As I was driving back from the market, with my latest supplies and additional grub for her, I'd purchased the next round of bananas and got to remembering the first time she had to do it.

            And that exchange was a winner by half.

            Sometimes, when I fed her, I'd set with her too and make small talk. I mean, some might think it unhealthy all the time I spent by myself formulating my sick fantasies and not interacting with real people. I welcomed out little chats although it was mostly me trying to draw her out and her resisting. I wanted to know about her (fucking) daughter and she could smell the rat.

            So too though, I liked watching her eat. either naked or dressed sexed up, in her bra and panties or even revealing outer clothes. I liked it because I knew I was doing a good thing and keeping her alive.

 

Page 4.

 

            She was just finishing up a Lasagna, from the micro-wave and I told her, 'You're going to have to eat fresh fruit. I don't want  your skin getting all pasty or sallow.'

            'I like fruit too. You've given me a nice variety of vegetables, so I'd like the fruit too. Do you have any now?'

            'Yeah, some strawberries and a banana for you, OK?'

            She went through  most of the berries and then like a monkey peeled the banana back and went to take her first chomp.

            'No. No. Hold it.' I said.

            'What? You said it was mine.'

            'Hold it. That's right, but you have to garnish it.'

            'A banana? That's for roasts and stuff. Not fruit.'

            'Yes but, you can garnish it too.'

            'How? What with?'

            'Use your imagination.'

            'I don't have anything. You haven't given me anything, so there's nothing to imagine.'

            'I don't have to. You have it built in.'

            'You're talking nonsense, as usual, sometimes.'

            She went to take a bite again, like she'd ignore my request.

            'You do, and I'll knock your fucking teeth down your throat, and you can eat them too. No bites.'

            'But why did you give it to me then?'

            'To eat, you dumb cunt, of course, but garnished.'

            'Stop making a riddle and tell me then. I don't know so tell me.'

            'You stupid cunt, in your cunt. Use it like a dildo until it's good and wet and then you can eat it.'

            'I will not. That's disgusting.'

            'That's the idea. Totally disgusting and you will. Remember the BBs?'

            How could she forget, the pellets were still in a little huddle in her labia? And when I fucked her a certain way, they'd almost meet and bump together, inside her lip.

 

Page 5.

 

          Well, that reminder, was enough and she looked down at her area, pried herself open and in slid the fruit. She did the dildo motion with vigor.

            'I'll tell you when to stop.'

            She kept on masturbating for about five minutes and I told her, 'OK, go ahead and have a taste.'

            When she did, she barely made a face.

            'Let me taste too.' I enthused.

            I got off a good piece and there was just the slightest flavor of her crotch but mostly just the banana. I made her do it after each next bite until the whole thing was done. She laid down the peel and gave a sigh of relief.

            'What are you doing?' I asked.

            'Uh? What? I finished, like you said.'

            'We don't waste food here.'

            'No, I don't either, but I finished.'

            'Like fuck, you are. Eat the skin.'

            'The peel? You want me to eat the banana peel?'

            'You don't understand my English?'

            'You're crazy. What's wrong with you? Why do you have to find  new ways to spoil everything?'

            'To spoil everything? Not on your life. To spice it up, I would say.'

            'No, you're wrong. You just wreck things. Wreck it all.'

            'Fuck you bitch. I do what I do. Fuck you bitch. And I enjoy it, now eat the fucking peel.'

            'But monkeys don't even do that.'

            'Well you'll be a monkey's aunt, a dead one in a minute if you don't get started.'

            It took  her three times as long to grind that part, the stem and hard end and the rest as to eat the insides. And then she was done, and that was that. She declined my offer of another one but on subsequent occasions, she had to do the dildo thing with the skin on and eat it that way too. The stem in her cunt was rough.

            The thing was too, making her, forcing her, she couldn't believe I'd despise her that much and she was totally wrong because I loved her, so much, for what I could do to her. I didn't have to pretend to be civil. If I wanted to grope or cut off her tit, I had the same license.

            A license to kill and a license to mutilate.

            How spectacularly fine it all was.

            How spectacularly fine she was.

 

Page 6.

 

            I decided to feed her a miserable dose of false hope.

            Now it was the day, of Independence and I was fully up for the special treat and, of course, we were going to celebrate it together. I approached her, just feasting my eyes on my possession and got ready to reel her in again. She was so vulnerable and had become fragile, it just seemed a shame.

            I started, 'It's the Fourth of July to-day. It's getting dark now. Would you like to see some fireworks displays?'

            'Pardon? What? Pardon?' She obviously couldn't believe she was hearing me right.

            'July Forth. Independence Day.' I said.

            'I know. I know, but what? How?'

            'Some fireworks, you know.' I said.

            'But how? You mean on TV?'

            'No, the real thing, the big display down by the waterfront.'

            'But how? How?' She seemed overwhelmed with surprise and hope. Her eyes even shone a bit and her face got a bit eager. She was really pretty when she wasn't afraid, but when she was terrified she was gorgeous.

            'That's fine if you don't want to. Forget I asked.'

            'No. No. Please. I don't know exactly what you mean. Are you letting me go? How can I? We?'

            'It's a pretty simple question. Yes or no?'

            'I know it's simple, but some of your other ones have been, like, a trap for me. They seemed simple, but I couldn't win, and you know it. You knew it when you asked me, so of course, I'm surprised and maybe a little suspicious and afraid.'

            'So that's a no, I take it then?'

            'No. No it is not. Of course I'd like to, if it means you're going to take me out of here and not hurt me anymore. I'd love to see the sun and the blue sky, but you said it's getting dark so even the night time and the stars would do. Is it cloudy or clear? Could I see the moon? (I was about to send her fucking cunt to it on a rocket so perhaps she was partially accurate.) Oh, and I'd so love to smell and breath fresh air. I wouldn't try anything or do anything to draw attention to us. I promise. I promise and I wouldn't be bitchy or assertive. You won't have to argue with me. I'd be compliant and obey as you ask,' she paused after her release and rush of emotions and hope, and continued, 'I'm just surprised you'd want to do this with me. Be willing to, you know, risk it.'

 

 Page 7.

 

            Stupid and pathetic, gullible, dumb, cunt bitch, as if I would.

            'You said you wouldn't try anything, so there'd be no risk, right?'

            'Yes. No. No. There wouldn't be, but how can you know for sure?'

            'I suppose I'll have to trust you then, like you were honorable.'

            'Oh yes, yes I am. I'll keep my word. I do keep it. Anyone who knows me, knows that about me.' she continued, her hope and enthusiasm building, 'Where would we go? What waterfront? And how? Not in that van of yours again, please. Not in it. It's horrible, how you raped me in the back, and hurt me and laughed about using a condom. So I don't like it. I hate it and wouldn't want to be in it again. I think you can understand that, can't you?'

            (Of course, I never mentioned going in the van. The operative word being going.)

            'You have a car? Of course you do. Everyone has a car. We'd go in that then. That would be fine and I'd never try to escape, I said. What kind of car is it?' She was tumbling over her thoughts, blinded by her hope.

            I wasn't answering her directly now, and  she was slightly picking up on maybe it wasn't all as she was thinking and hoping. (And, of course, she was immediately thinking how to get away free. How she could break her promise. That was always her game.)

            'Please tell me what kind of car? How would we go? If we go? She was starting to have her doubts.

            'I just wanted a yes or no and you've turned it into a big production, so just forget I offered. I won't again.'

            'Yes. Yes. Please. That's my answer. Yes, I want to see them with you.'

            'I wish you'd said that right off instead of all the melodrama and speaches.'

            'But I'm saying it now. I am. I am. Sorry, you caught me by surprise, It's not too late. Say it isn't and we can go.'  She sounded just like a little kid. All hopeful, she almost looked like one too.

 

Page 8.

 

            'How much do you want it? to go?'

            'Oh no please. Oh please, no don't. Don't start with your conditions and games. I always end up getting hurt and you know that. It's true, you find a way to twist it around to justify hurting me. Making it my fault you're hurting me, when I believe, sometimes, you just enjoy it for the sport. So please, just accept my yes.'

            'One fuck, and I will. You don't make a sound of protest, not even a little squeak, and you have yourself a deal, and I won't try to bust you up inside, or be mean to your nipples.'

            She could see I was trying to have pity, to be reasonable, and sensed it was the best I would do.

            'In the front. Just the front? Not the back?'

            'Fair enough, one little cunt poke.'

            'OK. OK.' she acquiesced.

            She really was quite amazing, but then again, she had her motives and I didn't really rape her anyway. It was more like intercourse and I even kissed her pretty deep good. She seemed to kiss back and even pretended the orgasm groans when I blew into her. The depth of her kissing was pleasant, and surprised me since  many women considered kissing to be more intimate than fucking. That was when the souls connected, so it confirmed her desperation to appease me. She was swallowing her revulsion, to put the good act on. As if she fooled me for a second and she was tethered to the bed frame by her steel neck line, so it wasn't prudent to try to overpower me or whatever game she thought she might accomplish. Still and all, when I was done, she almost didn't feel abused and she was happy for the first time in weeks and I decided to let her have that for a bit more.

            I had arranged a bathroom area for her needs, with a tub, and told her to have a bath and fix herself up, sort of like a normal routine, and we'd start in a bit. She was kind of singing to herself, more of the shine coming back into her eyes and even her body was getting more hopeful, more fluid and smooth. She'd adjusted to her nipple crushing and managed not to think about her disfigurement, nearly as much as at first. Besides, by now it was all quite neat and healed, only missing. From a distance it looked inverted.

            Her hopes and spirits were rising.

            Boy was I going to blast it all out.

 

Page 9.

 

            I'd done my research well. The beauty of the Internet. It is such a boon to raping, torturing perverts. (And those who want to read about them.) It allowed me to research and find just the right choices. The perfect products for my needs and often I could even get them by mail or courier. No bother at all,  in fact, just all extra great and enabling. And choices I didn't even know existed.

            There was an M80 cannon firecracker that was red and very much looked like a small stick of dynamite, about four inches long and almost an inch in diameter. It was now illegal. It was virtually impossible to find them anymore but I had forty old stock in eight packages. I had to pay an extra bit for them but they were the kings, the baddest, my Leroy Browns.

            Fuck, some guys get all the breaks. Leroy Brown, baddest guy around, in the whole wimp town. He even had a song about him from the mid 1970s and he wasn't a fraction of the bastard I was. Yet again, in my line of work, everyone knew who Leroy was and nobody knew who I was. Not one fucking cop was trying to stop my reign of dick terror, not even the detectives were looking for me. And, of course, she kept right on expecting them to rescue her, like she had been for weeks, to come crashing through the door any minute with their battering rams and pistols already to avenge and to kill, just like on TV. The only one close to her with a ram was me and it was between my legs plus I had all the guns. I had every gram and ton of the power.

            A slightly lesser version of the M80, was the M88 (even though the number was bigger, the bang, the destructive force, was smaller) and it too was no longer available except for the sixty I'd found as a bargain, this time. Too many kids were blowing their fingers off, so the M80s and M88s had been banned.

            Readily available was the Silver Salute, a high powered, large cracker, that was the legal version of the M88 and I had three hundred of them. I didn't want to run out or anything.

            The posted reviews for the Silver Salutes read as follows.

            - They are really loud and they can blow a hole in a Coke can and they have long fuses. - from a nine year old fan.

            - Great big bang, blows a foam cup to smithereens and blows holes in metal cans, These are the best money can buy. - a loyal customer for three years.

            - They have a picture perfect brilliant flash that really burns hot and a six second fuse. - biggest bang for the buck fan.

            Another variety was the Hydro cracker, which I had five hundred of them, which was somewhat smaller but still plenty dangerous and had similar great fan endorsements.

            - I put one in a plastic bottle and it blew it to pieces.

            - They explode in the wet, even under water and kill the frogs.

            - They can shred a soda can filled with water to pieces. (I especially liked the shreds and pieces parts.)

            So goes the primer on firecrackers.

            I had my arsenal and was about to use it.

            And she didn't even know I had them and certainly not almost a thousand.

 

Page 10.

 

            Over the weeks that I'd held her, I'd gone to various thrift shops, Goodwills and Sally Anns, etcetera, to buy clothing that fit  her so I could have her dressed all sexy and nice and fresh and cut  or rip her outfits off or force her to strip and re-strip, like it was for the first time. I got lots of series of pictures like the porno sites offer galleries of the same girls. I bought many of the clear blouses, silk or nylon, clingy like, and tight skirts and evening dresses and lots of shorts and slacks. I also managed to get a good number of under garments and some of the clerks looked at me strange like maybe I was a pervert or even a cross-dresser. I loved wearing victims bras and panties and it annoyed her I still had her original pairs she had on when I grabbed her and strutted around in them often to tease her. Her briefs had lots of my cum stains decorating them along up the front. I would never damage them, souvenirs and all that good stuff and almost as good as keeping the nipples if they didn't get crushed or shot off.

            I'd gone out to retrieve some of my firecracker goodies and came back into the room and set them on the table, same one as before, for the wasps, where she couldn't see them. She was still all excited and had dressed in a nice pale blue chiffon blouse and her favorite white shorts, of the ones I'd gotten for her. I told her it was really hot outside and she couldn't tell since my house and her area were air conditioned. She very much looked like she was ready for a regular night on the town, sort of like a date. All sweet and alluring and over the top sexy. Even her crushed nipple, which couldn't heal and I had to slice off the flat flap of skin that remained, didn't detract from her allure. Knowing it was gone and how it'd happened made it all the finer and sweeter. Her tit was still a good handful to squeeze and felt pretty much the same. And its appearance was like a deep red circle of dried, oil-based paint, all smooth and stretched with no texture. It looked like a nipple, especially from a distance, except there was no bump (like I said, inverted). But if I looked closely with the magnifier, I could see the ends of the little tubes that came from her milk sacks, like the ends of tiny straws, in a circle. I could even shove a fine sewing needle along and down into them, which wasn't a good idea since they infected easily which made her healing take all that much longer.

What it really proved was I could always be meaner. Cruel and usual punishments.                                     

            I unhooked her neck line from the bathroom area and she walked back to the bed quite happily, almost like she owned the place, sort of strutting and ambling at the same time. Like she was getting back in charge (of her life) a bit.  Her cracked hip socket had healed fairly well and she only limped kind of a little, and it had stopped popping with each step. Still it made her ass swing nicely and I took full note.

            I told her to stop, I had to put the ski mask on her and she didn't question it since that was how she had come up there to begin with.

 

Page 11.

 

            'I suppose you don't want me to see your house so I couldn't tell.'

            'Yeah, I suppose.' I avoided her.

            'Like if they asked me, I couldn't say what it looks like or anything.'

            'Yeah, that's it.' I tossed off the lie. Who the fuck did she think 'they' were and how was she ever going to talk to them anyway? She wasn't in the news anymore and her case had gone cold and the cops were stretched thin with a bunch of shootings including a multiple murder suicide. And as I already gloated over, none was looking for me.

            She seemed satisfied, like all was OK, she would truly be OK as I slid the mask over her angelic face and vulnerable head. I held her skull between my hands, thinking, you poor deluded soul and let them slip down around her throat, just as if I wanted to choke her. I could have strangled her right then and I know she knew it. I had the power. I owned the control.

            She said ever so quietly, 'Please.' And stood there ever so still and compliant and expectant, but concerned, all little girl like as I released her throat from my grip and stroked her head under the mask. Her brain and mind were somewhere in there too.

            What was she thinking I would do next?

            What was she hoping?

            Now I proceeded to fix her neck line up through a ceiling eyelet and onto a ratchet device.

            'What? No. What are you doing? Aren't we going out?'

            'I have to do some thing first.'

            'Oh. OK then. Can I take this off until we go?'

            'No. Don't.'

            I just stood there transfixed, studying her and savoring the moment and how her world was about to change so drastically again. Crash to a gazillion pieces, literally explode.

            Fuck, I wanted to fuck her before I fucked her all up again and my prick was so ready but resisted my impulses. I kept quiet and still for about ten minutes and then lit one of the Silver Salute high powered larger crackers and placed it precisely on the floor right at her feet. I looked right at her cunt as I stood up and licked my lips like a goof. I didn't have time to bite her. She was getting tense and fussy, like squirming but not writhing.

            'What is that fire smell? You don't smoke do you? I've never smelled it on you or your breath.'

 

Page 12.

 

            She really had no time to question further, or to react. In the six seconds, it went off with a white flash and such a deafening bang, since they're not meant to be set off indoors. They don't even have to put that on the warning/danger label since who in their right mind would think to do it anyway?

            She screamed, shocked and afraid.

            'What the...? What was that?' She cried as she pulled the ski mask off and continued, 'What did you do? Why?'

            She could see bits of the cracker on the floor still smoldering and obviously could smell the blast.

            'What are you doing? Are you crazy? Crazy? You could burn the place down.'

            'Or burn something.' I muttered.

            'Pardon. Pardon me.' She looked aware and scared. The anger was returning to her face and manner. She was ready to fight again, but with what?

            'It was nothing.'

            'No not nothing, you said, "or burn something". What did that mean?'

            With that I selected a smaller Hydro cracker and lit it, dropping it at her feet. She tried to kick it away, but kept missing, and then to jump away as it went off and she hollered.

            'Stop it. God damn it, you fool. Stop it. I've never seen anything so crazy.'

            I lit two more smaller ones together and this time some of the blast hot caught the side of her bare leg.

            She screamed out, 'Ow. Ow. That hurt. That burned me. Stop it. Just, just stop it.'

            Now it was time to get more serious about my agenda.

            I pulled her up tighter by the neck to her tip toes and cuffed her hands behind her back. Of course, I did the usual feels.  I so loved feeling her up (and down) like a dirty little school boy all over again. Like an amateur with no technique, all rough and clumsy and gross. Like I had no respect for her.

            'Please no. Stop it. Stop. We're supposed to be going out. I got all cleaned up and dressed special for you and you did the rape thing, the intercourse like you wanted. Didn't I do it good enough? Please. I tried. I can do better. Please.'

 

Page 13.

 

            'Yeah, that's all right, like correct,  but you said yes, you wanted to see some fireworks. I asked you. So we are.'

            'You said you meant we were going out. You said the waterfront. You said we'd go in your car and not the van. You said.'

            'Well yes, I mentioned the waterfront, but you said about the car and all the rest, as you got your hopes up and blathered on and on. You really think, you dumb cunt, I'd take you out of here for something like that?'

            (Only to bury you, I thought to myself.)

            She started to cry. Like almost right on cue. Great chest heaving sobs of utter disappointment and shattered hopes and who knew what else would be shattered. Her life was all fucked up again. Her paths derailed.

            'You're so mean. I can't believe how mean you are, you can be. Why? Why me? Please stop. I don't want to see any anymore.' She sort of begged through her despair; whined through her misery.

            So much for her pleading.

            I next put one of the Hydros into the waste band of her shorts and left it there as I fetched another box of wooden matches. I so loved the smell of wooden matches that were fulfilling my purposes in her life.

            'No. Never. What are you doing? Why? That'll hurt me. You'll hurt me again.'

            I lit it and she couldn't shake it out before it went off.

            It scorched her shorts and burned a ragged hole through the bottom of her blouse where it was tucked in and singed the side of her stomach. She screamed loud and long as I pulled the smoldering fabric and bits of cracker away from her pale, scarred skin.

            'You've got to stop this. You've had your fun. Don't do any more. Please. I don't want to go out anymore.'

            That was short lived, I smirked to myself.

 

Page 14.

 

            I strutted around behind her and dropped an M80, the biggest, baddest one, right down the back of her shorts. Her ass was so sweet and smooth and unblemished. She writhed and kicked trying to shake it out, before it went off, and this time succeeded. It blew up as it dropped to the floor, right beside her bare calf. It fanned out with a deafening report and burned her in a myriad of tiny spots, like a spray, but not very deeply. Like not even first degree, which still can be more painful than third or forth degree since the nerve cells are all still in tact. If I fried her nerve cells, the bitch wouldn't feel anything of the burning. All in all, her screams were getting nicer, more from the gut and louder and she was becoming more frantic and I recorded all the sights and sounds. I lit another M80 to drop down the back of her shorts and she jerked around to try to thwart me so it ended up down her front instead. Well now did she fucking dance, like the Highland Fling trying to shake it away. It exploded just above where her bush had been before I shaved her. Everything, including my dick, was smoldering, so I had to pull her shorts down fast and her sweet nylon panties were burned through in several choice spots as was the front of her shorts. The front of them mostly wasn't white, anymore, more a gunpowder grey, shaded to black.

            Well, that made her squeak, and not like Mighty Mouse either. I am woman. Hear me roar. Ha, fucking ha.

            There were no adequate words for her fright. I hadn't caught her vagina (but I'm sure she sensed I'd be getting to that) but there were small black crust burns up across what they'd call her pubis or maybe pudenda. To me it was all just her fucking cunt, her bung hole.

            I pulled her panties and shorts back up and backed away to study her, to view my handy work. What a spectacular sight she was. She had absolutely no idea what to do to stop this new insanity. She was crying great convulsive sobs and her make-up, she'd put on to go out, was all run and her breasts heaved and sank with each heavy, labored breath. Like she was going to croak from slowly taking in too much air or maybe she was trying to make herself faint, like light headed and care free. All I knew was, I couldn't have loved her more.

            After about half an hour, I was ready for stage two.

            There were to be three stages.

 

Page 15.

 

            I approached her, like pure evil, and lit two small ones at once and stuffed them down the front of her blouse into her bra, both in the same cup where her nipple was gone. Her blouse exploded forward. For a moment her chest looked bigger. Then her blouse was blackened for about a six inch irregular, jagged radius. It was smoldering against her tit and I didn't do anything to put it out. Did that ever get her to jiggin' the dance even more. She was all waving legs and arms and looked like an octopussy and she only had the one. She wrenched and pulled and writhed for about two minutes until the smoking stopped. I went directly to her and undid her blouse and pulled her bra up over her mounds to inspect my damage. It was artistry, like an abstract painting. Her fine white skin was crinkled and peppered with the little black crusts. Her bra cup had burned through in several spots and it too was so fine.  I'd keep it, just as it was, for a souvenir. I slid her blouse off her shoulders and let it hang down at the back at her cuffed wrists, and slid her bra down too.  I uncuffed her to get them free. I got another bra and put it on her. I loved doing that, dressing her like that, it was so fucking personal. I re-cuffed her and adjusted the cups by squeezing her tits. It looked just fine now because it was perfect.

            I set two big ones, the M88s, one into each cup of her new bra so only the wicks were sticking out. Her words of pleading were become all the same. What different could she say?

            I lit them at the same time and couldn't believe how her bra exploded forward, like rocket tits or rocket bra. One actually blew the cup half apart with a ragged layer of thin foam exposed and the other flashed pure, brilliant silver setting the top elastic on fire.

            'For God's mercy, put it out. Please. It's burning me, my breast. Can't you smell it?'

            Couldn't I smell it? Holy shit and fucking right, I could. Like perfume. Intoxicating. Like a fresh brewed pot of Java. And I loved even more how it looked. Fuck and holy fuck. Just imagine her cunt.

            I took my time, but did put it out, and wanted to see if I could blow the other cup clean apart, shred it like confetti, so I set two of the M80s into it at the same time. When they went off there was no cup left. Obliterated. It was like a chicken hit with both barrels of a shotgun at once from three feet away. The air was full of fabric bits and maybe tit bits too.

 

Page 16.

 

            She passed out and slumped down onto her neck, hanging. I just watched her choke, and sort of gurgle, for about half a minute, suspended all limp and twisted and then let her down to the floor to lay there and when she came to, to let her lay there awhile longer, in her new found agony. Fuck she was suffering and knew it'd only get worse. With me, it always did.

            I stood over her, now naked, well ready and able to fuck her. I ran my foot over her tit, her scar tissue where her nipple had been and fought with myself whether or not to start stage three. I wasn't sure I was ready for it, was quite up to it yet since it would be so extreme, so I went back to doing some general explosions awhile longer. With her shorts off, I blew the arses out of three pairs of panties and obliterated two more bras. All sort of harmless and routine, although one of her ass cheeks got a third degree flare and the skin was off, a couple of square inches, right into to the fat. It looked like she'd sat on a white hot rivet.

            I'd had my rest and now was ready to get to what mattered.

            She had finally revived again and I told her, 'Open your mouth.'

            'What for? No.' She cried and clamped it shut.

            'Just fucking open it.' She hated that tone in my voice.

            As she did, I said, 'Hold this between your teeth.' It was a Silver Salute, not one of the smallest ones.

            'No way. Are you completely mad? Insane? Crazy?'

            'Hold it between your teeth.' I looked her dead in the eyes, and continued, 'I'm telling you, you want to do it.'

            'No I don't. I won't. Never.'

            'Oh yes you do. Do as I say. Just do it, or else. It's your only choice, your only chance. I'm only giving you one.'

            She  must have reasoned there was worse I could do because she opened her mouth and took the cracker by the very end  between her perfect white teeth. I was a little surprised, because she didn't want her beautiful face messed up. She was so conscious of her good looks and had often used them to her advantage, to influence men. A fucking cock teaser, but classy and bitchy and now my cock tip was into teasing her cervix.

            Some called themselves a leg man, while others saw themselves as tit men. I guess I was a vix man since her cervix represented her bull's eye to me. Even more than her clit, since it was that much deeper inside her, more personal and harder to get at. It was closer to her womb, her sex heart or her female heart, which I would like to have pulled out of her and used as a bag for my garbage. Or to cook the Haggis in the old fashioned way. Or at least have flown it at full mast from my flag pole.

            What was all this shit about thinking outside the box when I was forever thinking way inside it?

 

Page 17.

 

            She was still holding the cracker between her teeth, but then when I lit it, she let it drop after about five seconds and the big bugger exploded, as it fell, just in front of her cunt. It was like it knew my desires. She jerked way back and screamed way deep. It had singed the front of her pink silk panties, right at her crotch and a couple of molten particles had burned her labia into he slit. Again she was bewildered and befuddled. She had no idea how to cope with what I was up for doing to her and couldn't arrange for me to stop. She couldn't finesse or intimidate me.

            Her pleas were pointless and there was nothing new she could think to say although there was something very new I could think to do, which was what I was leading up to all along.

           

            Stage three was on stage.

            I'd always wondered, at least as long as I could remember, even as a kid when I knew I liked the idea of hurting the girls my age, hurting their sex parts, especially their budding breasts with the little 'pokeys', and then the teens and then the bitch women. Ever since I played with them, as a boy, I wondered what a cannon firecracker stuffed into her cunt would do to a girl or a woman? How much damage would it inflict and, more importantly, what kind of damage to what parts of her physiology there. Would she still be fuckable? Could she pee other than down her legs? What about doing it several times or three at once? I wondered even more, after I saw a western movie, where the bad guys (in black hats) killed a bitch by staking her to the ground and letting off a stick of dynamite laying between her legs up against her crotch. I assumed her legs were found in two different states.

            Now it was time for me to find it all out.

            'You shouldn't have done that, let it fall. It was your only chance. I told you. You were just getting one from me and now you've wasted it.'

            'I know, but I couldn't. I was too afraid about my teeth and face, even my eyes. My only chance for what? What? What now?' Now she was yelling at me proper.

 

Page 18.

 

            I kept my mouth shut and gloated inside, all excited and sex rubbery, all agitated but thrilled. Fuck was this ripe. Like, better than the wasps.

            'For what? Tell me. You bastard. Tell me. Tell me.' Now she was literally screaming like a holy terror, like her holy terror.

            'I won't tell you. I'll show you.'

            Now I was in full torture, mutilation mode; all deliberate with extra purpose. Sometimes, even I didn't have the stomach for some of the perversions I visited on them, and felt disgusted by how unfeeling and vicious I could be. Other times, like now, I could have cut her kid's clit out right in front of her, cooked it and made her eat it or ate it myself raw. There were tides, ebbs and flows, to my sadism and now it was coming in full with a rush, like when the planets align in a row plus there's a full moon.

            I moved her to the bed and now she was fucking fighting. It was like she knew she was struggling for her life and had to make it count all at once, so I gut belted her and dragged her by her hair with her legs flailing all along. When I kicked her in the knee I cracked its cap. I secured her face up with her legs well spread and her hips elevated on a wooden block, about eight inched arched upwards. Her cunt bone stuck right up nicely making a tempting fist target. I resisted and just patted her, patted it like a furless pet. Poor fucking thing, its minutes were numbered. I had her pulled medium tight because I wanted her to thrash and jerk about some. I'd had been naked except for a pair of ivory silk panties I'd put on awhile back. I ran my hands all over her fairly minor burns and massaged her cunt and gave her the mean and hard fuck, but fast, while she still had a whole cunt. I did the tongue stuff and her clit between my teeth, by now all quite ordinary.

            When done. I retrieved a single M80, of course, the biggest and baddest and laid it on her chest between her tight tits. She could shake enough to make it fall off so I duct taped it in place, in her valley and lit it. It exploded classically, setting her breasts jiggling but not doing a whole lot of damage. I then taped three of the smaller Hydro crackers around her remaining nipple in sort of a circle. I wondered it they might blow it off, which I didn't really want to do but decided to risk it anyway, in the names of curiosity and amusement.

 

Page 19.

 

            I lit them fast together and then pressed a board hard to her tit, like mashing her, to contain the explosions inwards. To direct the blast force into her tit rather than allowing it to escape outwards. The simultaneous concussions of them did some fine number on her. Her nipple looked like it had been gouged with a piece of glass and about half was missing. Her tit flesh was smoldering, cooking and I could smell the burn like a BBQ and some of her stuck to the board as I pulled it away. Her nipple looked like the insides of her cunt. All red and slippery and bulgy and buggered. And like oozy.

            I had to stop for awhile to get her stabilized so I could continue with my plan, assured of her awareness.

            While thinking about it, picturing it, I decided to change my approach to doing her pussy. Instead of the first one in her with her legs spread, I bound her legs tight together midway at her thighs and stuffed a big one up in between her legs, but not into her. I constricted her so tightly she couldn't shake it out and I let her thrash wildly trying to. I then got her off from the bed with her hands still cuffed behind her back, so she could try to run about, with little baby steps,  like a headless chicken knowing what was to come. I hadn't lit it yet and had to chase after her, like playing tag, trying to get to the fuse, and then she'd be 'it'. It was all silly but terrific since she was so scared and the stakes, for her, were so high. She stumbled over and I gut kicked her and got it lit. She rolled like a big sausage, trying to dislodge it, and when it went off, with what seemed like an extra super bang, it burned the insides of both of her thighs and her outer labia on one side good. She passed right out and just seeing her ass hole so forced together I had to wriggle my prick into it. She was tighter than a wine bottle neck but I had a bit of a time keeping hard, since I'd just cunt fucked her, so I didn't manage to juice her, so I punched her instead, in her pucker.          

            When I brought her to, I had her back on the bed, in the spread elevated position and was finally ready to really do it.

            I was going to blow up a woman's cunt.

            I was going to blow up her cunt.

            Hot damn.

            Hot, hot damn.

            Hot time in the cunt tonight.

 

Page 20.

 

            I could hardly contain my new building orgasms and the ache in my crotch and nipples. I was ready again to unload right into the air, right into her face. I could have squirted like a fire hose, or at least a garden one.

            I suppose you could say she was a victim of her own success. I suppose one could, but she'd never admit her concerns about her high profile attracting the wrong kinds of attention. After all, she was capable and independent and that couldn't happen to her.

            (Just the same as it couldn't happen to Connie Francis, the singer, in 1974, in her secure hotel room, of all places.)

            She was smart and savvy, so she left the question begging. And now her answer, one of many, was about to be burned, into her brain, between her legs.

            She  had already imagined, like a martyr, the upside of her captivity was she had been looking for the subject of a new book and now she had it, if only she could convince me to let her have a pencil and paper. Oh, I'd give her a pencil and pad, alright, but to make a list like no other she'd ever had to compose.

            She was going to have to summon upon her own perverted sexual imagination soon, very soon.

            Carefully, specifically and with plenty of foresight malice, I showed her the M80 that was destined to meet with her inner most sensitivities. I rubbed it across her face, across what was left of her nipples, traced it down her stomach, over her navel and worked it, ever so respectfully, into her cunt. I felt sorry for her lips, how they couldn't hide, and there was no need to damage her putting it in. Ironically, but not surprisingly, her hidden ones would suffer the most. They were already compressed, like contained, like a closed fist and all, which I'll address in a bit. 

            Like a tampon, it went in, and even the same little string.

            She completely and absolutely could not believe I would do that. It had flashed to her mind and imagination, how she'd stop me but she hadn't really thought I'd be such a bastard, so her reasoning was in disarray.

            'Please. Please. Please. Oh God. Please. If you have mercy. If you know mercy, about mercy, don't do this. It's not remotely human and is beyond barbaric. That's my vagina. It gives birth, to new life. You'll be destroying new life, the promise.'

            I was going to tell her I'd like to stretch and rip her womb out and use it as a garbage bag, or a pennant, or maybe the Haggis, the  good old fashioned way. Fucking baby sick sack. It was more like a grunting fat sow's maw (gut) and chitterlings (intestines). I was going to educate her but she was too sincere to interrupt.

            'No human being could do this to another. I'm begging you. I'll do anything else you want. Anything else. Do you want me to suck your cock? I'll suck it. Do you want my anus? To ass fuck me, as you say it? I'll let you. I'm begging you. Anything else but don't finish this. Please. Please. Pleeaasse.' Now she was wining, the sniveling twat.

            I took all kinds of extra pictures and arranged two video cameras into the right positions to catch the flesh rending explosion to come.

            I told her, ' I'm going to come back in exactly half an hour and light it, so say your prayers. I placed a table clock where she could see it. It was just before four am in the morning but she didn't know if it was am or pm. For some reason, I thought she should know.

            'It's the dead of night you know. Everyone's asleep except us..'

 

Page 21.

 

            What looked like a mirror, one of many I had mounted so I, so that we could see extra, what was happening, was actually a one way window, like the kind you see on the TV cop shows when they interrogate a suspect, or for a line-up. I could watch her but she couldn't see me or know I was watching.

            I had to jerk off as I studied her.

            I still like masturbating, even though I had her there, for the real thing. I had done it so much over the years and it afforded me the privilege of not having to perform and getting it right every time. And rather than release my sexual tensions, it energized them, for me to go back at her harder. Often, I could jerk-off and jerk-her within a few minutes of each other and she knew something had been different, more focused and intent.

            I jerked off as I studied her.

            What a sad little creature, a sad little sack. What a poor little bitch. She knew I was going to blow up her cunt, although she didn't know, more than once. She was so totally helpless to prevent it. What had she done in life to deserve this? She must have wondered. When her nipple was crushed, she'd thought that then too, and this had the makings of being so much worse. How would she look afterwards? Would she still have labia, especially the minora ones? And what about her clitoris? Might it blow it right off and she bleed to death? I was thinking all those things as I soiled the silk briefs I had on and I hoped she was focusing also. But what the Hell, I thought, it all was still too sweet to do, right now. To prolong the ecstasy for me, I decided to make a list of what the explosion might do to her. What was likely or remote.

            My school-boy list went like this.

            Titled: What the firecracker in my vagina might do.

            - Burn me severely on the inner walls.

            - Blow my inner labia off or disfigure them.

            - Blow my outer labia partially away.

            - Blow my clitoris off or severely damage it.

            - If my clitoris is sufficiently injured, I might bleed to death.

            - Blow back into my cervix and rupture it.

            - Make minced meat of my general womanhood.

            - Maybe it'll be a dud and not go off.

            Nothing very original, and maybe sort of infantile, but I loved savoring all the prospects. I was finished with my exercise and went back in to visit her. I had let more than the half hour pass and it was fun seeing her eye the clock so closely. She didn't know what to make of my being late and felt it was inconsiderate, but maybe a blessing. Maybe I'd dropped dead and her luck had changed.

 

Page 22.

 

            I started right in, 'You know, this could really damage you. Like really horrible. I mean it's your fucking cunt.  It won't kill you, I don't think, but you'll never be the same. You may not even be able to piss, if it blows your urethra apart, or shreds your bladder. And how am I going to fuck you? I love fucking you. Raping you. How will I then?

            She just looked at me like I was an idiot prick.

            I continued, 'Here's what I know, you might get lucky with one and retain some of your womanhood, but if I do it over and over, you're a mother fucked bitch for sure. If I do it, like ten times or three at once, what then?'

            It was barely registering with her but she was aware and somewhat comprehending. This maniac was having a jolly time just talking about the deconstruction of her vagina. This was nuts. It all was nuts and represented insanity run amok.

            'It's pretty serious, you know. Yes, I know you know, so here's what  I'm going to do. I've made a list of seven possibilities, seven scenarios of what one blast might do to your structure..' (The dud didn't count on my list.)

            'Oh God. Shut up. Just keep quiet. I can't hear anymore of your filth. You talk in such garbage.'

            'So what I want you to do is make your own list of what you think might happen and we'll compare. I want you to come up with  the lucky seven.'

            She was inundated and shell shocked but not stupid yet.

            She knew I was just delaying her inevitable.

            'So you get the idea?' I asked.

            She nodded yes and then no, sort of at once. Her face was a mask of confusion and mostly it conveyed, a profound, why?

            She really didn't get the joy factor.

            'I'll get you a pencil and pad so you can write your ideas down. I'll give you another half hour. Now listen carefully, this is important, match three of the things I've listed, and I'll only do the one cracker. If you don't, I'll keep blowing your crotch up until it's nothing but burned and charred meat, inside and out. You get it?'

 

Page 23.

 

            I knew she did by the horror in her eyes.

            I positioned her so she could write and think, to help her be creative.

            'The title of your list is, What the firecracker exploding in my vagina, no make that my cunt, might do.'

            She held the pencil and pad and just looked lost.

            'Go ahead, start writing, write down the title as I said.'

            She started to print. (Always the contrarian.)

            'Very good. I'll see you in a bit.' And I went out to watch her again as she struggled to keep from having a complete mental and emotional breakdown. For about ten minutes, she wrote nothing further and then all of a sudden began scribbling furiously, like she was attacking her assignment, or at the least, attacking me. She scratched at the pad, page after page, writing big and bold, and then just stopped and I could see she was sobbing. I was more than curious to find out her thoughts.

            I was back to her in the half hour.

            'So, what have you written? Did you write anything, or like a book or an essay?'

            I took the pad from her and sat down to find out. I went and got a treat to eat while I was reading. I didn't offer her any.

            She'd written a sermon, as it turned out.

            "Mister. (she'd crossed out Dear) Yes you are my captor but you're not my master. Your threats become increasingly terrible and so to it terrifies me accordingly. I've determined, in my heart, that this is your wish and intent and for whatever reasons, most likely stemming from your youth, you want to enjoy doing this. I don't believe you're possessed, as if you have no choice, but that you chose this path and I had the severe misfortune to cross yours and be snared in your trap and your twisted world. I don't know if you'll let me live and to tell you the truth, I almost don't care anymore. Death would be a release. Kristen French said to the rapist, Paul Bernardo, before he murdered her that, 'There are worse things than dying.' And she was only fifteen years old and the sweetest delicate flower and still he snuffed her precious life out. While I might be prepared to die, I have a family. But my family cares and my children. My lovely daughter (Geeze, I'd have loved to have had her there to fuck too, at the same time, in front of her) and my son who's so handsome and my hero.

 

Page 24.

 

            They care, so if by the slightest chance or margin you will keep your word, which I seriously doubt, I'll abide by your rule, by your sick fantasy and offer the following things that your horrid act may cause injury to my va... to me. May God have mercy on your soul for being so lost and I pity you, the existence you must lead when you're away from me. I pity any woman who gets close to you because surely you hate women more than any other man alive or dead. I pity you, I do. And God have mercy on me.

            Off to the side, she written further, You're a bastard and I despise you but I don't hate my life and I want to try to keep it so I'm making your juvenile, stupid list.

            1.) I'm certain the explosion will burn parts of my va..., va..., vagina. (She stuttered over it even when writing but overcame her resistance.)

            2.) It may render parts of my labia mutilated.

            3.) My clitoris is vulnerable to injury, possible severe.

            4.) I don't think I'd bleed to death because the heat should cauterize any ruptured blood vessels. (Fuck, I liked her words better than mine.)

            5.) I have no idea about my cervix. I suppose it depends how far you insert it into me. - Please don't damage my cervix. I want more kids. (I'd already addressed that possibility, in my mind.)

            6.) If God hears me, maybe it won't go off and you'll count it as your attempt, although I seriously doubt it.

            7.) It might fail to explode, but burn like a flare and I can't even think of those consequences.

            8.) Maybe you'll look really closely at me, see who I am. The person and human being that I am and change your mind to not do it at all. This I pray is your choice. Oh God, make it be his choice.

Oh God, just make it be.

            I'd read her list intently, while smirking inside at her sincerity, and then handed it back to her and told her to read it aloud. She struggle through it with the appropriate emotions and tears and other dramatic effects, and I showed her my list and it was clear she'd matched three of the effects, so the one cracker was what she expected.

 

Page 25.

 

            It was time to stop with the procrastination.

            Within five minutes, we'd both know.

            'Well, I must say, you poured your guts out there, didn't you?'

            'Please. Just please you know I'm sincere.'

            'Yeah, I guess, well let's see what this does to the guts in your cunt.' (Minced meat express, here we come.)

            I took her head right between my hands and gave her a soft kiss. I mean it was the last she would be a whole woman, I supposed mutilated nipples really didn't count for all that much. I ran my fingers into her mouth and across her snow white teeth. I stuck a hat pin, with a red head, into the scar tissue where her nipple should have been, and it looked like a little nipple. I stuck her other nipple too, but through sideways. I laid the box of wooden matches on her stomach and knelt right before her cunt, like I was worshipping it, which of course, I was. This was the experience of her life time, at least for awhile and indeed I was worshipping its eminent destruction. The demise of her womanhood. I took a match out and struck it but let it burn out, dropping it onto her stomach, while still hot. She cried out and then started in with. 'Our Father, Who art in Heaven...'

            I did the same again but let the hot match drop onto her shaved triangle. She wiggled it.

            More desperate cries and words as she continued, ' Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy kingdom come..' (Soon she'd never cum again, in any kingdom, that was for sure.)

            The I lit it.

            She skipped to the 23rd. psalm part, 'Yeah though I walk through the valley of death...'

            She could smell the fuse burning.

            'Oh God please. Please... I will fear no evil...'

            What a fucking explosion.

            (Now it gets ugly.)

 

Page 26.

 

            Because the cracker was contained, and I'd shoved it all the way in, using a larger plastic drinking straw to protect the wick from getting soaked, as she pissed herself and as her other slime flowed, it was so different than if it had been in the open. It was like you had one in your hand and it went off with your hand open, it would mostly just burn your fingers and palm. If it went off in a fist closed tight around it, it'd blow your fingers right off. Which was why the M80s and M88s had been banned. Too many kids losing fingers as they went to toss them. Well, obviously, her cunt was like a closed fist and the cracker might as well have been dynamite.

            She never said another word of her fucking prayers, but screamed sharp and short, like half a yelp and passed right out.

            Now it gets uglier, but ever the more beautiful.

            Firstly, her cunt was still smoking, like a cigar was lit inside of her. Her outer labia was blown out to one side, ripped about half way along and I could have nipped it off with kid's art scissors, the way it was hanging. She really had fucking bad luck. The cracker had also flared, the silver flame right along her clit where it met her base meat. The nub wasn't there anymore. What I could see looked like a burnt pea, like an acetylene torch had been applied. It was black and charred and BB hard and not much bigger. It must have been about a six degree burn  because every speck of moisture was fried out and it was mostly carbon now. It felt like a little pebble, the kind you got in your shoe and annoyed you.

            But it was her inner labia, the delicate ones that took the brunt. Now, they were just a memory. Shredded wheat and shredded meat, would have made for a good breakfast. They looked like cement truck road-kill.

            The flare had burned the right side of her upper thigh and it was still smoking like an over done roast in the oven, like the oven was on self-clean. There wasn't a whole lot of blood since, I supposed, the intense heat had cauterized most everything inside and out. I took numerous additional digital pix and was relieved the video cameras had captured the whole explosion so beautifully. On freeze frame, I could see exactly how her labia expanded and was blown out, as it tore away and the sight of her clit being torched, I could see it shrivel and disappear, like in time lapse photography. I played it hundreds of times and had to make copies since I was wearing out the original keeping it frozen on those frames while I jerked off so often.

 

Page 27.

 

            I wanted to fuck her but wasn't sure how, with her damaged like that. So first, I started to try to clean her up. I fished out of her as much of the remnants of the cracker as I could, keeping them in a glass baby food jar as souvenirs. I pushed my fingers way up inside her and could feel that part of her cervix was crusted. Poor, sweet little, cunt bitch, she had no good luck at all, only seriously bad. It felt like pieces of scab, I could pull off, but I'd need the tweezers. It must have been burnt quite deeply and I can't even describe how much I loved it. I sniffed her, smelled her close up and because her lubrication had mixed with the explosion powder, it made for quite an unusual, but enormously stimulating scent. The scent of a woman. Fuck that, the scent of a fried woman. I guessed it was a scent not smelled before or at least not often.

            I worked carefully with her, gently so as not to do any more damage than I already had so as, hopefully, to leave something to fuck. When I felt I'd cleaned her as much as I could, I used the salts to bring her to. I had to slap her for about five minutes also, and her face was contorted in pain unconscious. Her jaw was clenched shut like a vice and when I kissed her even her lips were frozen and hard. Yet still she wanted to breath.

            She moaned and whimpered and I got her a mirror to show her, her new appearance, her new configuration. I think the part of her labia hanging lose bothered her the most as I stretched it out like an elastic band, for her to see. I asked her if she would let me snip it off and she said no. I then asked her, how about biting it off and got the same answer. She wanted to hold onto her fragmented parts. Ungenerous, unsharing, selfish fool she could be. If she'd made me a present, I might have been more charitable in return. She couldn't really see the hard little burned pea her clit had become so I released one of her hands and pushed her own fingers onto it.

            She cried out it unbelievable disbelief.

            'Oh my God. Oh. Oh. Oh...'

            She knew it was gone and couldn't be fixed.

            She was going  into so much shock, so much trauma, that she wasn't feeling all that much pain overall. She shrieked about her pea clit mainly because she could feel what it had become. The shock was like when someone accidentally severs a limb, say a leg, and the first they know of it is when then try to walk.

 

Page 28.

 

            I calmed her down a bit and told her I was going to fuck her, that I had to, as the conclusion of this exercise.

            'We're at the end of this now, and all that's left is for me to fuck your new cunt.' God did I love saying that to her. 'your new and improved cunt.'

            She begged beyond begging for me not to.

            But I'd have none of her sniveling or humanity.

            I figured all her natural lubricants were fried, the secretion glands buggered, were beyond repair, if they existed at all anymore, and it was all so different than when I'd fucked her dry from the wasp bites. Then she had a cunt. Now she had a mush hole with an ill-defined opening. I used lots of Vaseline and smeared it around and inside and her cries became of the appropriate volume and intensity.

            She was as ready, I figured, as I could make her.

            I mounted her.

            And did her slow and hard mean.

            It all felt fucking weird.

            The ribbed walls weren't right and her muscles contracted sort of spasmodic, like they were laid bare and the skin was off them. I could have touched and pinched the sinews.

            I could feel her rock hard clit scrape across my shaft. It tickled and I liked it. She had a built in sex aid.

            My pecker head was banging against the crust on her cervix.

            Oh shit. Shit I'd forgotten about that. I pulled out and picked out a pair of stamp collector's tweezers, the ones with the flat, not sharp, ends. I slid them into her mushed hole and managed to pull three pieces of crust off her vix and I think I got about a quarter of her donut. Fuck did she wail.

            Now it was OK to finish fucking her.

            I've never had a better fuck.

            Ever, never in my life.

            I rammed harder than I thought I could and bit her damaged nipples around the pins as I came, and licked the salty taste of her nipple blood. I pulled out to see what more damage, if any, I'd done. I think her ripped labia was torn a bit more and there was new blood oozing out around what used to be her clit.

            I figured, what the fuck, in for a dime, in for a dollar.

            This bitch so still needed it.

            She'd assumed I was done.

 

Page 29.

 

            I brought her too again. She kept passing out. You'd think it hurt or something worse. I told her I wasn't satisfied with the results. It simply wasn't enough, wasn't destructive enough. I could still tell she had genitals.

            She was pretty well out of it by now, but when I held the two big crackers in front of her face she got the idea I wasn't done yet.

            She screamed out like nothing I've ever heard before and didn't even start with the prayers again.

            What good had that done?

            I pushed two of the M80s together as far up into her as I could, lit them and watched in fascination, her finally being destroyed. I'd never fuck her again, that was for sure, at least not in the cunt because there wasn't one left. She couldn't even play with herself. From now on, I'd have to fuck her in the ass or across her tits but that would be OK too. I'd liked doing that almost as much, besides I knew she couldn't last too much longer with such damage and how was she going to piss anyway? All down her legs, as it turned out. Every time, or she sprayed like a garden hose on wide pattern. It was fun to film but not too close or she'd get it on the camera and me. I didn't mind on me but the camera wasn't partial to getting soaked.

            I was so right.

            I knew my craft.

            In about a week I had to finish her off, but had a great time in the time she had left. She couldn't really walk, but I gave her a cane and made her sort of run around the room with me holding more crackers in hand and throwing them at her lit and threatening to stuff three of them into her at once. I went through about a hundred, making her hop and dance the jigs, which screwed up her hip joint again, and she tried to jump higher for the big ones, so eventually she couldn't stand at all on her own, cane or no cane. She just dragged herself around, on the floor, like an old bitch dog with dysplasia. Then too, me kicking her on her fracture with my steel-toed work boots didn't help either, but it left such well defined bruises.

 

Page 30.

 

            I was getting bored with her suffering and thought about it for awhile and upon  closer probing and inspection, realized she still had a vaginal orifice of sorts. It hadn't completely disappeared, really how could it? So I decided to give it a go to see how much of a real fuck she still had in her. I'd let her heal, if that term could apply since her condition was all so grievous, for three days and felt she'd had enough of a holiday.

            During her usual chorus of protests, I tied her on the bed, legs spread perfect and was into her in a jiff and couldn't get any sense of being contained. It was all lose and ragged and raw where once she'd been tight as a fist. So my cock couldn't grind against anything firm or remotely tight. My knob couldn't butt her. It was like trying to masturbate with an opened hand.

            I decided to try a pint of vinegar, to see if I could tighten her up, like pucker her up and used a big basting syringe to squirt it into her.

            Well, that worked, all right.

            It was like I poured super glue, the Crazy stuff,  into her. I almost needed a chisel and mallet to penetrate her since she'd swollen shut so tight. Her lining and lips were, like, fused and her canal super squished against itself. I think even her vix pushed back into her uterus trying to escape the stinging and swelling, which the stinging, my prick nob felt too.

            Fuck, that was meaner than mean of me, but it got me the superb orgasm so she still had it in her. She was good for something still, so yet should be alive.

            A day later, I did her from behind and it wasn't that great, even with all my extra threats. She was so messed up and compromised, it was like fucking a bowl of vanilla pudding. I did persist and managed her a few drops of my squirt, far from my usual gushers, so it was back to her front. It was time to do her twat again but without the vinegar.

            Her condition made me have to do extra. I tied her to the floor using eyelets I'd anchored and got her pelvis arched about two feet up over a wooden box. Now my prick could ram against her bone structure, tickle her skeleton and I did her over two hours, the pretty good cum and left her well filled, - full filled, but not thankful. Three hundred and sixty thrusts to her soul, jaded her outlook.  A year's worth seemed enough, I figured, and could count them from my video, I'd made. And I loved how my hips took aim and then plunged and how she lurched in reply. It was far superior to any phony porno movie.

 

Page 31.

 

            Fucking her across her tits was the easiest, but least rewarding, of my remaining options. Which got me to reminiscing, waxing nostalgic for when her tits were perfect.

            I remembered well, the first time I saw her breasts, since I'd replayed the video recording I made of our exchange more than most other prime assaults I'd visited on her person or psyche.

            In the van, when I raped her, it was dark and I just squoze her.

            As I delivered her out of her bra, she entreated me with, 'Please listen. Please. My breasts get very tender when I have my period, which I've just finished. They also swell a little, sometimes quite a lot, and I bruise so easily you'd think something was wrong with me. But the Doctor says no, some women are just made that way and I'm one of the unfortunate ones, so please, if you're going to handle me, don't be rough or mean. OK. OK?'

            I treated her to my silent stare.

            She continued, 'I give off quite a bit of discharge too, from my nipples, so please respect...You can see there's a little there now.'

            I was ecstatic with her appearance. She was beauty defined, with her nipples pointing just a little bit upwards and pale pink areola, like a faint pastel shade, all subtle and ready to crinkle.

            'How about I lick it off? See if it tastes like milk?'

            'Stop it. It's not milk, like lactation. It's discharge and not the same.'

            'All I know is it's coming out of your hard little buds so it's milk to me.'

            She'd erected up perfectly from the cool and the stress and I wanted to get the big toe nail clippers already. Maybe even just show them to her.

            She was starting to crinkle up, only on one side about half way around a nipple. I moved in on her for a taste. You'd have thought my tongue was a snake. (which she feared them)

            'Stop it. Oh please. You're scaring me with that look. I'm not strong about my chest. They're not strong.'

 

Page 32.

 

            'What, no slurping?' I said as I kept on tonguing the air.

            'Stop being a pig. Being obnoxious.'

            'Just one little taste.'

            'I'm not brave about my chest, I told you.'

            'So what? I retorted. 'How about you express yourself to get a bit more of the juice out?'

            'No. No I can't. I won't. I can't.'

            'Come on, you can do it. You'd be amazed what you can do when faced with the crisis, faced with the motivation.

            'Is that what this is, a crisis? She added, 'For me?'

            'I'd say for your tits it is, like worse than a cancer or a mastectomy if you don't fucking listen and obey.'

            She started to mewl, just a little, and went all little-girl don't like, like 'Why are you touching me down there?' Instead of squeezing her legs together to fend off unwanted advances, she tried to diminish the presence of her tits, suck them inwards to her lungs. Like inverted nipples but the whole fucking mounds. She tried to concave her chest and it just made them look all the more vulnerable and inviting which was my perfect catalyst.

            'You'll be OK.' I said knowing full well she wouldn't be.

            'You'll be stronger than you think. You'll see. You'll see. They're just tits. Tits. Tits. So nothing I do to them will kill you...'

            'My God, kill me?' she blubbered.

            'But I really love your shape. They're classic, like exquisite. Just movie-star perfect, but natural. You're not very big. What, a 34B? But still you look heavy. They hang heavy and look at your bottom contour. No sag. No silicone. Just full flesh meat. And shit, you side profile, ever so slightly dimpled.. Geeze I want to squeeze them, one of them between my legs. Mash my cock against it and just grind away until I soak you. Do you think you'd like that?'

            She just looked at me wordless and annoyed.

            'No? Then maybe I should suspend you by them. Tie you up so they're all forced out and hang you right off the floor by them.'

            'You're nuts.' (Then she had such a way of stating the obvious.)

 

Page 33.

           

            'And see what they look like then, all purple and blown up like sex balloons, like toys.'

            'Where do you get such talk and ideas? Such filth?'

            'From my head, bitch. And from this one too.' I said as I grabbed my crotch.

            I pinched and twisted her nipple and she squirted a stream.

            'Fuck, that was nice. Like a jet stream, a water gun. Oh fuck. Let me see if I can squirt it into my mouth.'

            'My nipples, my nipple. Please don't. They're even more tender. Please leave it be.'

            'You think it matters? I could cut it off, even bite it off and you wouldn't miss it at all. Or maybe I could crush it, fucking stupid leaky fawcet.'

            I looked her straight in the eyes, 'You're so stupid to think anything about your tits matters to me, except how much I can hurt them.'

            'You're disgusting and a jerk as well.'

            (Well maybe a jerk-off, but a jerk?)

            'And just so you know, that all goes double for your cunt.'

            Now I had her attention, and fear, in my hands.

            I'd since proved well up to the task of torturing her tender chest and she'd held up better than some of the teenagers.

            I was thinking too about how her days would start.

            When she'd first awake, on her own, from  having passed out during an extra fine torture routine, it often was like a heavy, dark  veil just waiting to descend, even pounce. First were the moments, precious seconds of unawareness, followed by confusion and then the intense awareness of some new pain location. Then would the screaming erupt, like a searing hot volcano of raw emotion and despair, of ineffable disbelief, or sharp belief, I had outdone myself at being a bastard again.

 

Page 34.

 

            She'd come to the realization that what was hitting her wasn't a dream, but me. Only once before in her life, just out of college, a boyfriend had slugged her and she thought nothing of having him charged and spend a month in jail. She'd never been struck since and then along came my bolt. And she'd awake to scream some more.

            Shit, she'd even shit herself, more than once, within twenty seconds of reviving. Talk about your effective enema. That's when I knew I'd really gotten her good. When she shat herself with her disgusting feces. Oh well, what else could I expect from nothing but a  low cunt life. I thought about gluing her anus shut with the super glue just to avoid the mess and then for the sport, of seeing how big she would expand before she blew up.

            Another day, a better way, to be mean to her.

            Still again, did I really want shit on the ceiling? With her buggered hip I wouldn't be able to force her to clean it up. And I had to question, if she was out living her usefulness, if she couldn't even clean up her own shit mess.

            I didn't think the adult diapers would work either. How would I explain that warranty claim?

            'Incidentally, I glued her arse shut.'

            'How did that happen? Was it an accident?'

            And there went my whole beef.

            Silly assed woman, time to get another playmate.

            And I already knew who she was.

            Her daughter was fifteen and her spitting image. Well not exactly anymore, but she had been and could be made so again. She really loved her mom and missed her. I'd even struck up a conversation with her husband and the kid in a coffee shop and he was devastated by her disappearance, confused and hurt that she would abandon him. They both were.

            Who elected me, his cancer? I wondered..

            And I'd never abandon the kid.

            Amen and amen to that.

            Now it was back to the present.

 

Page 35.

 

            I'd dreamed up another miserable idea I wanted to try out on what was left of her.

            I wanted to use her for target practice.

            With my twenty-two rifle.

            I wanted to trim her cunt neatly back to the bone, tidy it up, one little bullet at a time, all controlled and exact and heartless. Like nip and nip and tuck. And like shoot her baby fingers off, one joint at a time and, of course, areate her tits and maybe see if I could cut one of her legs clean off with the shots.

            I knew when I did this, it would be her last day and set aside five hundred bullets for the task. I intended to use every last one of them. I went to sleep, in her bra and panties, the ones she'd had on that first day when I snatched her from the safety of her garage, and dreamed of lots of gunshots and some woman screaming, way off in the distance, unseen and unhelped and unconsolable.

 

            The day of the hunter.

            The spray of the bullets.

            That day, her day,

            Was a day away.

            Geeze, what a poor sport I could be -

            And I always won.