Torture The Widow

Chapter 15 – Summer Camp Eulogy

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This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

Copyright 2004

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"Please, I'm thirsty," I said to Diego. My throat was raw from screaming and being tortured makes you sweat. After fifteen minutes of electrical torture I was perspiring from every pore in my body. There were puddles of sweat under the chair where they had been passing current through the sensitive parts of my body. I'd also pissed myself twice causing even more dehydration. I was desperate for something to drink.

"Here drink this bitch," said Servero unzipping the front of his trousers and hauling his cock out.

He reached into my mouth and removed the rubber pads used to gag me. They also kept me from biting my tongue off when they turned the voltage up.

"You guys can fuck me anyway you want if you'll get me out of here," I said. "I've got money, say $10,000 for just letting me walk away."

"We'd never betray the trust of the General or his family, whore. Open up and swallow my piss," said Servero pushing his cock between my lips.

I felt the warm liquid fill my mouth and I greedily gulped it down. Piss was mostly water. I was desperate and it wasn't my first Yellow River cocktail. When he finished I looked at Diego and said, "More." With a look of utter contempt he hauled his peter out, unlimbered it and put it inside my mouth resting on my tongue. It took several seconds for him to get his flow started and it went on for a while. I got that nice comfortable feeling of having a belly full of warm man pee. They did it so casually you had to believe it was nothing new to them. I wondered how many times they'd done the same thing to some peasant girl in Central America.

I would have preferred a nice bottle of cool still mineral water but they weren't offering that. Anyone who was a habitué of the NY S&M club scene would tell you that there's a certain kind of woman who loves to swallow urine. I once drained eight guys in a row at the Hellfire Club. My stomach became round and I proudly showed it off to everyone. Some piss drinkers prefer to use a glass. I have a friend that kept a tray of pee cycles in her freezer. She takes one out after she gets home from work and sits on the steps of her apartment and eat it while she chats with the neighbors.

On Saturday nights, the Hellfire Club would set up a piss bar. Men and women would wonder in and fill a glass then set it on a buffet table. Piss would vary from a dark yellow to almost clear. I became something of a urine connoisseur and could tell by taste or smell girl versus boy pee. What was really neat was finding a few pubic hairs floating on top as a garnish.

Since New York is on the cutting edge of the smoking debate glasses were labeled for smokers and non-smokers. The non-smokers claimed that piss was a source of second hand smoke and therefore carcinogenic. After I'd been strung up on a St. Andrews and some unkind master had whipped my ass until I had a screaming orgasm, I'd go into the piss bar and gulp down a glass of the strongest yellow I could find. It's the best 'after a beating' drink there is. Your backside and tits are on fire and striped. Your clit's red as a berry and hanging out between your pussy lips because some dom attached an alligator clamp and a couple of pounds of fishing weights to test Newton's Law of Gravity. Every part of your body hurts but at the same time you are so alive. I'd stagger into the little room and gulp down some stranger's urine wallowing in the sheer degradation of the act of ingesting another human being's bodily wastes. I'd drink it fast so piss would trickle out the corners of my mouth dropping down on my swollen boobs. The salt in the urine would burn the cuts left by the whip and I would think how great it was to be alive.

But I really prefer to have the meat pipe in my mouth and drink from the source. Sucking on a flowing piss hole really drains the bladder and brings up the dregs. It's the heat, smell, and taste that turn me on. I let my mouth fill then swallow enjoying the sensation as the hot smelly liquid travels down my esophagus. When I'm in the mood, there's nothing better on earth than draining a man's bladder sucking that last golden drop from his urethra. Being able to do things like that defines you as something beyond the ordinary. Girl piss isn't all that bad either especially if she's in her period and flooding. Walking around the Hellfire Club with your face covered in menstrual blood and piss breath singles you out as a true believer.

When both my Central American torturers had emptied their bladder they reapplied my rubber gag and turned the current back on. While my two compadres from the death squads were using my tits and clit to validate Ohm's Law, one of Trace's female relatives was delivering part of his eulogy. Before I recall the eulogy let me tell you a little something about her.

Megan Faircloth was Trace's first cousin. She and her husband ran a company called Faircloth Security that hired ex-military types to provide security services to mostly overseas customers. Their employees were former Navy Seals, Delta Force, Special Ops and British SAS. They were well connected in Washington and were getting filthy rich off contracts to protect various Middle Eastern autocrats. Faircloth Security guarded them from the people they ruled over and stole from.

Megan grew up in Weston in a mansion a few doors down from the Donaldson's. Megan's mom, Sarah, was the General youngest sister. She had married a wealthy Boston banker. However, Trace always believed that it was the General who knocked up his youngest sister after she was married. Biologically, Trace considered Megan a half sister and a first cousin. It seemed that Sarah's banker husband was firing blanks so Sarah prevailed on her brother to get her pregnant. It was during our honeymoon in Hawaii that I learned so many interesting things about my in-laws.

"So Megan was a turkey baster child?" I asked naively thinking that incest might be beyond the Donaldson's pale.

"Artificial insemination, the General, are you kidding? Knowing dad he'd been banging Sarah since she entered middle school. Dad put a bun in her oven one night while her husband was out of town. Mom helped make sure she got pregnant," said Trace. He was on his third martini and filling me in on the incestuous doings of the Donaldson family. Sober, Trace could take a secret to his grave. A few drinks and the man blabbed everything.

"How did your Mom help?" I asked putting my hand on my cunt. We were in bed in the honeymoon suite of the Maui Four Seasons.

"You know, after dad filled her DNA tank, Mom grabbed her legs and stood her on her head. She made her do a headstand for ten minutes. Sperm do best when the egg is downhill," said Trace. "Of course, she and Aunt Sarah sucked dad's cock together to get him good and hard. They also did some lesbo shit while Dad watched. Dad loves to watch Mom eat pussy."

I knew that was true given that he had watched Lois and I eat each other. Eating pussy was the Donaldson's way of saying welcome to the family. Come to think of it, I'd had my mouth on almost all of the Donaldson twats and they'd returned the favor.

"How do you know this?" I asked. Trace's family intrigued me. Trace's conversation had gotten me worked up and I was sliding the dildo we'd bought at an adult store in and out of my cunt as he spoke. It was one of those that had a projection for your clit so you could drive it as deep as it would go then twist it to agitate the little man in the boat. I was wondering if Trace was going to pass out on me like he had the night before. It wouldn't matter if he did. I'd already discovered the room in the hotel's basement where the bellmen hung out. I'd gone down there last night and pulled a train. I was looking forward to doing it again. There were some Filipinos and a couple of Samoans that were fucking machines. They told me I wasn't the first honeymoon wife to find her way to the basement after their exhausted husband had blown his one good load and gone to sleepy land.

Trace had played thirty-six holes of golf that day wearing his ass out. I'd stayed in the hotel and gotten the spa treatment including a terrific massage. After the massage, I'd taken a tennis lesson with the pro who ended the session by putting the meat to me on his office desk. I was really enjoying my honeymoon.

"Mom told Denise. She told Robbie and he told me," said Trace taking his cock out of his pajamas and stroking it.

"So what happened?" I asked putting my hand on his balls.

"Mom and Denise went out one night on the town when Dad and Robbie were overseas on a tour at NATO headquarters in Brussels. They went to club in Boston where Mom got drunk out of her mind. You know how Mom gets when she gets drunk."

"No, how does she get?" I asked liking the way my new marital aid was working my cunt. It had a curved part that was designed to stimulate your G-spot. It was tracking across Doctor Grafenberg's discovery stimulating a patch of flesh whose only purpose in life was to get me off.

"She gets real horny. Four drinks and my mother is desperate for a fuck. Mom latched on to some black stud and they start dancing. She already knew the guy from somewhere. Right out in the middle of the dance floor he hikes her skirt up and sticks his hands in her pants. Mom turns around bends over and grabs his ankles and starts to grind him. Everybody's watching my mom grind her bare ass against this black stud's crotch. Denise said it was hot as hell. "

"Sounds hot," I said. I had a thing about being exhibited. It enriches any sexual experience when you look out of the corner of your eye and there's an audience.

"Mom's desperate to be screwed so she drags this guy off the dance floor by his cock. She and her dance partner go into the Men's Room for a blowjob and a fuck. A half hour later Denise finds Mom sitting on the john with her pants around her ankles and a line of about five guys waiting for a hummer."

"What did Denise do?" I asked.

"She got in the other stall and started sucking cock," said Trace.

"Denise is such a helpful person," I commented. "If there's dick around, she'll help a girlfriend suck it."

"One of the men said he had an apartment nearby and the two of them should come over and party. Mom insisted they go. She offers to pull a train. So Denise and Mom and about six black guys jump into a stretch limo and drive two blocks. Once upstairs, the dude fixed Mom and Denise up with some great blow and everyone got naked."

"Isn't your Mom a little old for that kind of action?" I asked.

"Black guys were into older white women. They thought Mom was the greatest at least that was what Denise told Robbie," said Trace.

"And so while this was going on, what was Denise doing?"

"You know how Denise feels about black cock. She was in interracial sex heaven. Some other black men arrive. Mom and Denise are in this big bed taking on all comers. Those two loves those licorice sticks."

"So what had this got to do with Megan?" I asked.

"Mom's holding Denise's legs to she can do a headstand while these two black studs are both drilling her ass straight down. Denise said her hole was stretched wide open. Every once in a while, they'd pull out and everyone would spit in her ass."

"God that sounds hot," I said. I was wondering if I could talk the bellmen into double dicking my asshole Lois Donaldson style. My pussy was pumping lube thinking about having a butthole full of spit and semen.

"Mom who is still drunk and now under the influence of some lines of blow, tells her how years ago, she held Sarah in the same position so the General's sperm aided by gravity could knock her up. Mom said it worked because nine month's later Megan popped out."

"That's a really touching family story," I recall saying after Trace was done.

So Megan was Trace's half sister and first cousin. Megan was two years younger than Trace that made her three younger than Robbie. Another interesting piece of the Megan saga was also revealed on our honeymoon. The next night I'd just given Trace a blowjob on a deserted beach when I asked the following.

"Who was the first person to ever suck your dick?" I figure that was a question that most newlyweds get around to. I'd already told Trace I'd sucked my grandfather Bagwell's cock when I was ten. My parents had left me with them for the summer. Grandmother Bagwell was the first pussy I ever ate.

"Megan, my cousin," answered Trace after thinking a minute.

"How old were you?"

"Just turned twelve."

"So Megan was?"

"Almost eleven."

"Did she swallow your load like I just did?"

"Yes, she'd already swallowed Robbie's."

"And what were the circumstances?" I asked curling up in Trace's arms. It was getting dark and you know how romantic Hawaii is. I was planning on taking a short break then getting Trace hard again so we could fuck. Conversation about early childhood sexual experiences always gets a man ready to fuck. Fucking on the beach is so goddamn hot and I wanted his cock inside me pumping away as I listened to the waves.

"We were in her garage. Her dad had one of those old Rolls and it had running boards that you could sit on. We asked Megan to show us her tits that had just started to bud. She was really proud that she finally had something to show. We were just kids. She pulled off her shirt and we acted like she was Pamela Anderson."

"And you coped a feel?"

"Robbie has a gift for talking a girl out of her drawers. He took Megan in his arms and started kissing her. He motioned for me to join it. First thing you know, we're tongue kissing and sucking on her nipples. The three of us are getting worked up. Robbie unzips his trousers and hauls his whang out and puts her hand on it. I do the same. She's got a dick in each hand jacking us off."

"Like this?" I asked as I took Trace's cock in my hand and started jerking him off.

"Yeah, we did that for a while then Robbie asks her if she knew about blowjobs."

"And she proved knowledgeable?"

"She and one of her girl friends had been watching a porn video. She sat down on the running board. She put her mouth on Robbie's cock and showed us how the big girls do it. All the while, she's still jerking me off. At out age, it didn't take long for Robbie to pop. Megan showed her future potential by swallowing. I was so hot watching that I exploded as soon as I got in her mouth. She gulped that down too. She told us that was the way that porn stars did it."

"So did you fuck her?"

"Bet your fucking ass we did. Robbie put her in the backseat of the Rolls and we popped her cherry. I got to go first that time."

"Did she cry and scream?"

"Megan loved being fucked even the first time. She begged us to screw her again. A week later she announced she'd been watching some porn with a girlfriend and wanted to try anal. So we took that cherry too."

"Was that summer the only time, you screwed her?"

"Hell no, we fucked that little slut all through high school and even into college, Megan was always ready to spread if Robbie or I was horny. She'd screw our friends too if we told her too. I bet I fucked Megan Faircloth a thousand times. She swallowed enough spunk in high school to fill a reservoir."

So the reader having some background knowledge about the thirtish female that had stepped to the podium to deliver a eulogy of my dead husband, I recount what she said that night. Keep in mind, I was in the back of the room, naked, sitting in a puddle of my own piss and screaming into a rubber gag as two death squad torturers delivered serious voltage into my sexual organs. It isn't fun when you feel the positive terminal deep in your rectum exchanging electrons with the negative terminal in your cervix.

My name is Megan Faircloth and I'm Trace Donaldson's first cousin. I consider it a privilege and an honor to be speaking about my cousin, my friend, and a man I consider a great American. Trace was gifted in every way except the length of his years. We grew up together in Weston and while there are many wonderful stories I could tell I feel this one most illustrates the kind of person that Trace was.

It was summer and Trace, his brother Robbie and me were at Camp Sunshine. The camp was located on the shores of Lake Winnipesaukee. Camp Sunshine specialized in teenagers of military families so the kids there had a lot in common. In addition to the usual hiking, boating, swimming, etc, there was a computer lab and they taught me everything I needed to know about computers. If any of you parents are trying to decide on a camp for your child, I heartedly recommend Camp Sunshine. I'm sending my oldest, Lara, there for the first time next summer.

Oh where was I. I didn't mean to turn Trace's eulogy into a commercial for Camp Sunshine. This one summer the camp had hired two female counselors that truth be told were man-hating dykes. Their names were Anne and Corrine. These two taught archery, tennis, and golf. They were both college juniors at UMASS and I suppose kind of pretty in a not-too-feminine kind of way.

It was obvious from day one that they had absolutely no use for men. They seemed to take a particular dislike to Robbie and Trace. As far as Anne and Corrine were concerned the two boys could do no right. On the other hand, if you were a girl, you couldn't do any wrong. Even though Trace was better at archery than any of us, they refused to let him represent Camp Sunshine in the competition with the other camps. As a result we lost.

They refused other than the bare minimum to instruct Robbie and Trace in golf. Both boys were eager to learn to play and very disappointed they were being ignored especially since their parents were paying good money for the camp. Put downs, cutting remarks, nasty unkind words poured out of their bitchy mouths. But Trace and Robbie kept their cool. They never answered back and did the best they could under trying circumstances. Although Trace whispered to me once after Anne had refused to help him with his golf swing, "Their day is coming. It'll be the last week of camp."

I knew that those two dykes were going to regret fucking over the Donaldson brothers. The fact that Robbie and Trace didn't react caused the two lesbos to be even more dismissive of the boys.

"Dickless wonders," was the term they used.

At the same time, Anne and Corrine were inviting two other girls and me to their cabin every night. They had beer and pot plus all these great lesbian sex toys. That was my first experience with a butterfly clit stimulator. I had one incredible orgasm the first time I let Anne strap that baby to my love button. I came so hard I pissed myself.

Corrine would roll some joints, as the five of us got naked. We'd drink and get high then take our clothes off for a prolonged session of lesbian sex. It was my first real experience with girls. I found out I was bi-sexual because I loved eating pussy. I already knew I licked oral sex. Trace and Robbie had been licking my snatch since I was a high school freshman. I know Rosalind is busy being tortured for acting like a pig slut but I do want to say that her husband had one of the most talented tongues I ever experienced. I can cream in my panties when I recall the many times that he went down on me and brought me to an orgasm. I'd cum so hard I lost bladder control. I'd piss in his face. Trace would open his mouth and swallow my urine; but like the gentleman he was, always kept the final mouthful that we'd share.

"Recycling," he called it as he put his lips on mine and released a mouthful of my piss. I swallow everything he gave me and sucked on his tongue. Ladies and I know Rozz would attest to this if our two good Latin friends weren't showing her the pure unadulterated hell of electrical torture, Trace Donaldson was the hottest muff diver who ever put a face to my cunt. Sorry, I'm digressing from my Camp Sunshine story.

As the days went by, the nightly parties got wilder. We started fisting each other. That was a first for me. I was quite pleasantly surprised that with patience and a whole lot of lube that another girl could put her entire hand in my cunt and make a fist then fuck me with it Anne would fist me while Corrine ate me. Great orgasms were the result. Even more bizarre was when Anne and Corrine introduced us to anal fisting. Having two hands inside your body cavities isn't for the meek but it certainly was exciting for a teenager like myself anxious to experience all the world had to offer.

It was during one of those rug-munching parties that both Anne and Corrine declared that they had never had a man inside their body and never would. Both dykes said they would rather die than allow a man to touch them.

I'd tell Robbie and Trace about the parties with Anne and Corrine. They made me go into detail about what lesbian things we were doing. The two brothers would get horny listening to my stories. I usually wound up bent over a log taking a cock in my mouth and another in my pussy or ass. I think all we Donaldson's can recall those wonderful carefree teenage years where we smoked dope and fucked every day without a concern for tomorrow.

When I told Robbie and Trace about the dykes' declaration that no man would ever touch them, the brothers decided to take action. They spent several hours preparing a detailed operations plan. They discussed various scenarios and options. Alternatives were evaluated. They were very grown-up about it.

They put their plans into effect the last full day of camp. We were going home early the next morning. They reserved two adjoining rooms at the motel that was part of the truck stop over in Interstate 93. It's one of the busiest truck stops in the area. All the big rigs coming down from Montreal stop there for diesel.

Trace hot wired one of the camp's trucks and drove over to the motel and checked in. He had to pay the desk clerk an extra $100 to ignore the fact that he wasn't an adult.

He chose one of the rooms as the base of operations. Trace had contacted a friend of the family that operated a security equipment company in Manchester, NH. He arranged for the owner to meet him at the motel and set up four concealed digital video cameras trained on the two double beds in the other room.

Robbie gave me Rohypnol tablets as I headed out for my nightly pussy licking party with Anne and Corrine. I crushed the tablets into power and managed to slip them into the beer. Within an hour, everyone was dead to the world except for myself. I signaled the boys and they brought the truck around. We loaded Anne and Corrine in the truck bed and drove to the motel. We left the other two girls to sleep it off.

When we got to the motel, Trace had everything ready. He'd stripped the bedding off and stowed it in the closet. We undressed both dykes. Trace used bungee chords, rope, and belt strapping to tie them to the bed. You have to picture this. They were on their backs with their arms bound overhead to the bedposts. Robbie bent their legs back over their heads and Trace tied their ankles to those same bedposts. They were bent like bobbie pins. Trace used a pillow to elevate their rears to what I would call the 'fuck me in either hole' position. We took some Polaroids of them with our fingers in their pussy or asshole.

"Payback time," said Trace dropping his pants and fisting his cock. Both of the boys were hard as rocks at the prospect of fucking Anne and Corrine. They humped a load in their twats as I took close-ups with a video camera. After they shot their first load, I knelt between the two and used my mouth to get them hard again. This time Anne and Corrine were butt fucked. Once again I worked the camera. I got some great shots of jism oozing out of their orifices.

After the issue of whether a cock had ever been inside one of their orifices had been settled once and for all, Trace set things up for the rest of the night. He put lube, condoms, and wet wipes on the nightstand.

Robbie started visiting trucker's cabs in the parking lot and inviting them to fuck these two nymphomaniacs in Room 112. Once he told a few truckers they were using their CB radios and cell phones to spread the word that there was some young college girl pussy ready and waiting at the truck stop.

Robbie, Trace, and I sat in Room 110 watching the monitors as trucker after trucker blew their load in Anne and Corrine. It was a definite one hundred plus gangbang that lasted from nine at night to four in the morning. After the last trucker had splattered Anne's insides with jism, we packed everything up.

We drove the two back to their cabin where we dumped them on the bed with the other girls.

The family picked us up early that morning and I never saw Anne or Corrine again. However, Trace turned all the raw video footage over to a friend of his that edited it into a two hour DVD. That fall Trace mailed a copy of the DVD to a student he knew at UMASS. The student downloaded it to one of the college's servers and sent an anonymous email to the student body with the location of the DVD file and the fact that the girls were two well-known lesbians by the name of Anne and Corrine. Internet access was so intense it took the server down several times. By the time the school administration figured out what was happening, there had been several thousand downloads of the file.

Later, the DVD turned up in video stores. All in all it was pure Trace, patient, well planned and executed without a flaw. He was a wonderful person, a great fuck, and someone I was proud to be related to.

As Megan finished and another relative took the podium for the second eulogy, Diego and Servero decided that that I had all the electrical torture that I could stand. My vision was blurred. My heart was beating irregularly and there were places inside my body that were causing me hellish pain.

Mary Ellen arrived to wipe off snot dripping from my nose.

"Don't you look a fright," said Mary Ellen passing a lace handkerchief under my nostrils.

"Water," I croaked.

She surprised me by holding a bottle of Evian to my lips. I choked at first but managed to drink most of it.

"I'm going to give you a shot to make you more alert. I wouldn't want you to miss the next part," said Mary Ellen opening a brief case then filling a syringe from a small bottle.

"I can't stand anymore. Kill me," I pleaded.

"You can stand more than you think," said Mary Ellen. "Where do you want it?"

"Arm," I said but that was a ruse. When I spoke, Mary Ellen grabbed my tongue is a forceps and pulled it out.

"Hold her head still," she ordered Diego. My head was gripped in his muscular arms.

"Ever had a shot in your tongue?" asked Mary Ellen.

I couldn't talk so I pleaded with my eyes for her not to use my tongue.

"Hurts like hell they tell me," said Mary Ellen as she put the needle into the base of my tongue and pushed the plunger. It was a thick needle and having it puncture my tongue added to the misery of my existence. I was beginning to wonder if there would ever be an end to the pain I was enduring.

""Hook her and hang her over Trace's coffin," said Mary Ellen.