Target Practice

Target Practice.

Hitting the Pink.

Page 1.

       She wasn't a tough broad, not by any stretch of the imagination. She looked strikingly like the young snot on 'Gilmore Girls' and was about the same age at twenty-five. She had a similar  delicate, ethereal girl/woman quality that made her seem vulnerable and she was so much more vulnerable in my twisted hands. I'd snatched her from her garage, early in the morning before it was light, as she headed off to a modeling assignment and she was dressed in a dark over sweater, light pink chiffony blouse and an above the knee dark pleated skirt.  She had on a black belt which I used to bind her hands behind her back.  I had my rape kit with me, in a briefcase, but her belt worked as good as my handcuffs would have.        

       She looked as wholesome as American apple pie

       And all trussed up she looked even better.

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         I had her stashed away in my attic holding prison and she was standing secured by a steel tether around her neck attached to the ceiling. Her hands were fully free as were her legs and I wanted her to start undressing. I wanted to see what was all mine.

       I wanted her to open my package.

       'What? What do you want from me?' She'd asked this before, quit a few times, but now I was finally ready to let her in on my little secret and some of my plans for her.

       'I don't know what I want until I see what you've got. And to see what you've got, I want you to take your clothes off.'

       'But no. No, I can't. If I do, you'll want sex then, won't you?'

       She certainly got right to the point so I thought I would too.

       'Well, of course. Come on now, for Christ's sake. How many men do you think look at you and don't want to fuck you? A sweet little girl-like innocent thing like you? How many men do you think don't fantasize about how clean and tight your cunt would be?'

       'You're horrid and I don't really know. I never thought about it and I've never seen myself that way, anyway it doesn't mean they all want to have sex with me. Besides, there's lots of girls sexier than I am, if I'm sexy at all.' (Pouty little nipples just waiting to be suckled and bitten and she thinks she's not sexy, get real baby bitch.)

Page 2.

       'I don't believe you. Sure you've thought about it. You know you're good looking, like sweet looking. In your own way, you're a knock-out, so sure you're aware. And that's the point too, it's your innocence factor, it's right off the fuck scale. You're a ten. A fuckable ten.' I paused.

       She didn't thank me for the compliment. I suppose she didn't like the fuckable part.

       'So you're aware. Fucking right you are.' I continued.

       'Of what? That men like me?'

       'Yeah, of course. And of how they look at you.'

       'Yes, but I said, that doesn't mean they all want to have sex with me.'

       'And pigs fly.' I added.

       'So that's what you want from me, to have intercourse?'

       'I just told you, I won't know until I see what you've got and that doesn't seem to be happening any time soon. Maybe you need me to help you.'

       She gave me a fussy look, like she was becoming agitated inside. She'd been pretty certain she could keep her clothes on, as she played the possibilities of why I had her, through her mind, and now she wasn't so sure. And the other thing was, I really wasn't in any hurry which gave her less power or control, which, of course, was something I knew which she didn't. Since I also knew she was all mine, like finders keepers, I loved looking at her dressed and I wasn't about to tear her clothes off like the maniacs do. There was no need to rush to strip her and as the proverb goes, 'All good things come to him that waits'. Although, I suspected she wasn't quite the prize the philosopher had in mind. And then again, what reward, what delight, could possibly exceed her?

Page 3.

       I gazed at her. I mean, this was one sweet package and for a moment a vision of her panties covering her tidy little crotch slid past my mind. They were in there, just under her skirt and panty hose and under them was her womanhood. I didn't know the specifics, but I knew she was going to be beautiful. Gorgeous women don't have ugly cunts, although I did have one looker who had so much minora labia hanging out of her slit, I had to tidy her up by snipping it off and then cauterizing the slice. And you want to believe that made for screamsville, and then holler shriek city.

       We spent the next hour, you might say, just eyeing each other and I know she was sizing me up, trying to figure out the minimum she might offer to placate me. We hadn't spoken in that time and she could see I was quite contented just to see her there. I truly was extra happy inside and had a great sense of well-being. I now possessed everything I wanted in life and I wouldn't have traded her for a Rolls Royce Corniche convertible or even a Ferrari. I was a bit of a sports car nut and a little red MGB rag top I had was just great for fooling the cunts into thinking I was harmless, like how Ted Bundy used his VW beetle. He used his bug to get them to bugger them. I mean, he had been a law clerk, so he was no dummy and the car was a perfect foil. That said though, the thing I never understood about him, he snuffed some pretty prime pussy, so why didn't he create a place to take them and hold them and torture them at his will, like leisurely and prolonged? There was never any mention of him utilizing mechanical devices or the like. As the saying goes, 'To each his own', I suppose, but I certainly liked my way a whole lot better. But still the injustice of it all. I mean they fried him for what he did when they should have made him a Saint. The Patron Saint of Buggered, Dead Cunts. Like, he wasn't into the skanks and the prostitutes. He went for the co-eds and middle class pussies and the last one was fucking underage, so he certainly deserved some praise and credit. What a waste of a good rapist. The tales he could have written about, in prison for life, if he realized he was never getting out and nothing he revealed would make a wit of difference. But no, they had to go and cut his life short. An eye for a dozen clits. Hardly seems fair since a clit's not worth anything and it's only good uses are for torturing and frying, which brought me back to little miss innocent, who was about to become little miss, missing-some-sex-parts, if she didn't help me to smarten her up. (Right up the wazoo, that is.)

       She finally broke the silence, softly.

       'I suppose we could work something out.' She almost whispered. Her voice was so timid and uncertain but a little bit hopeful. (Ah, the glory of false hope. It was a gift I just loved sharing.)

Page 4.

       I was all ears and dick at her suggestion.

       'I'm listening.'

       'You said you like the way I look. I'll take my jacket off and walk like a model, you know like on a run-way.'

       'Strut your stuff, like they say. My very own fashion show. Private?'

       'Well, yes, I suppose.' She said.

       'You'll take your suit jacket off? Just your jacket?'

       Now she had to think fast, but couldn't.

       'You didn't answer me.'

       'No. I know. It wasn't a very good idea anyway, so just forget it.' (As if I would.)

       We reverted to the pregnant silence again, her catching glimpses of herself removing her jacket and me getting glimpses of her strutting naked with her tight little tits leading the way out front. I let it prevail for about another hour and then out of the blue suggested, 'You know, that wasn't a half bad idea you had. And maybe I could snap some photos, like you see in the magazines. You think?'

       She deliberately slowed her response as if she'd worked it out and already made up her mind.

       'I suppose. I suppose, it'd be OK. If that's what you want.'

       'Well, sort of, you know.'

       'What do you mean? No.'

       'You're certainly on the right track, but I think it'd be better if you were in your underwear, like a lingerie fashion show, you know, like Victoria's Secret.'

       Now she was fussed and getting fussier and her ivory pale face blushed a little bit red. She really had no intention of baring herself and I didn't say anymore knowing she knew what was hanging in the air. God I felt smug and self-satisfied. I just wanted her to stew and fret and almost had to get out of the room to self-satisfy my cock, but I didn't. I let the tension build in my groin instead. And she just sort of stood there squirming outside and inside.

Page 5.

       I let another exquisite half hour slide by and then said to her, 'You got something you want to say to me?'

       'No.' She said half-heartedly and I didn't believe her at all.

       'That's fine. I've got nothing but time.' I gloated.

       'Yes. OK. Yes I do. I've been thinking, one more piece after my jacket, if you agree not to touch me and then let me go. You can take your pictures if you want, but just one more piece.'

       She was thinking fast again because it seemed like we might get a deal, it could be a solution. She knew she had a fairly heavy bra on, not like a sheer one, so reasoned it wouldn't show too much. It'd be like seeing her in her bathing suit, like her bikini top which wouldn't be too bad, which was probably why she finally agree. But she was afraid her nipples might get hard which she felt could prove dangerous. (To the health of her tits and her overall health. I wondered if she realized that and what targets erect nipples represent.)

       'OK.' I lied, and she took her jacket off without being told to.

       She had the pink chiffony sleeveless blouse and it was sort of see through, but not a lot and I could only make out the edges of her bra. It showed just a bit of the outline of her bust. I was pleased I wasn't seeing her all at once, more like a gradual unveiling, so to say. That was until she stretched her arms back to get them out of her jacket sleeves. Well holy shit and fuck, my eyes glistened as the fabric stretched tight across her front. Even though she was small and hard, I could see there were some pretty decent handfulls and mouthfulls there. Her nipples were full soft so she didn't show at all. I tried to keep my leering and excitement to a minimum but my pants were starting to give me away.

       She started to unbutton her blouse in the middle. Several of the top buttons were already open.

       'No. No, stop. I get to chose.'

       'What? What?'

       'What you take off next, I get to chose.'

       'No, you didn't say that.'

       'I didn't say anything.'

Page 6.

       'No. No my top, my blouse. I'll take of my blouse but nothing else. That's all.'

       'That doesn't seem fair. Why should you get to say?'

       She smelled a trap and felt a collision coming up, an un-meeting of wills. The thing was, her fear was, she knew her panties didn't match her bra. They were the mesh transparent kind like that Spears cunt had on when she went for the ocean swim in her underwear. While on the subject of Spears, she used to be a prime fuck bitch but now was becoming nothing but a repulsive bloated sow. That's when you know your career's in the crapper, when you're falling off the rapist's radar. Enough about that fat loser.

       My girl also knew she was unshaven so she'd show through her panties good and dark. She figured it would excite me and incite me further to rape her. She had to keep her skirt on. That's all there was to it. As long as her skirt was on she felt she could control my lust and her cunt would be safer.

       She continued, 'No. No, that's my offer. That's the way it is.'

       'Hardly seems equitable.' I said again.

       But then equitable implies equality and there was none of that in our relationship. In fact, about the only common ground I could find, up until now, was that we both wanted to keep her tits and we loved animals. I may have been an animal, worse than one, but I loved them all, especially house cats. In fact, I'd volunteer at the Humane Societies, to foster kittens who'd been orphaned from their mothers. The thing was, they were voracious for the teat and what a spectacular sight to have a woman, tied spread-eagled, naked, face up on a bed and watching the kittens fighting to suckle on her nipples. Express her a bit to get a few drops of the milky fluid out and they went nuts. And another thing was, as they got older and stronger they'd use their paws and claws to knead her areolas plus bite a bit into the buds. Of course, four or five kittens doing this one after another, for minutes on end, made for some pretty sore and raw teat ends, which eventually the nipples would become so chewed, they'd bleed and just touching them was like rubbing coarse sandpaper across an open wound hard.

Page 7.

        It was a delightful torture and I could sit back and watch while snacking on a candy bar. Then again, every so often, especially if I got the bitch wet, a kitten would like to lick and nip her pussy and even get it's claws going into the folds. I always knew when a claw-point dug into a clit. The hip thrusts and the yelps were delicious and it was always an extra good time for a slow grinding fuck.

       I always fed them properly and when I was done fostering, they'd go back healthy and chubby. But geeze, could they suckle and chew for hours.

       Enough about pussies after pussies.

       I had a solution for her that ostensibly seemed fair.

       'Let's say we flip for it.'

       'Uh? What?'

       'We flip to decide who choses.'

       She looked resistant.

       'Heads I win. Tales you lose. Oh, yeah, that won't work. Tales you win. Heads I win, a fifty-fifty chance.'

       'Let me think, please. Let me think it over.'

       I had a novelty two headed quarter I carried around for good luck. My mind thought back to when I'd bought it at a Niagara Falls gift shop on the Canadian side. And what a great hunting ground that'd been. I mean, some of the Canadian stuff is every bit as good as the best grade-A California cunt, they bust with the best of them, especially one in particular, a judge's daughter from Quebec who had known nothing but the best, a sheltered up bringing, so to say. She was vacationing there and, oh, the out cry when she 'went missing'. She hardly spoke a word of English, but she knew what a gun pointed at her meant and she begged and screamed in French like nothing I'd heard before or have since. I did well up there, three vic's in all. I rented a remote farm house and stayed over two months. I even thought of staying permanently, to do my hunting, since Canada doesn't have the death penalty and, Heaven forbid, should I get caught and convicted, I could always spend my time recalling my exploits writing about them, like re-living them in detail.

Page 8.

        There are three corpses, (they'd long be skeletons by now) in a park called Algonquin, about seven hours north of Toronto, that will never be found. And so, with the last one buried, I trotted on back to the good old U.S.ofA. hunting grounds whereby ten times the population meant ten times the opportunities and targets.

       She was really mulling over the coin toss. I could see her working it through. What were her options? What were her chances?

       Eventually, she entreated me, 'Listen, I don't really want to, but I don't know what else to do? You have to promise, like I said, you won't touch me, and you'll let me go, if I do this, and co-operate. Even though you've said you want to have sex with me, you have to promise you won't follow through. You have to say.'

       'But you'll give me a good show instead?'

       'I'll do my best. As best I can to satisfy you.'

       'Yeah, OK. I can live with that.' I lied again.

       I fished the coin from the change in my pocket.

       'Tales you win. Tales I lose.'

       She nodded her head trustingly.

       Of course, the outcome was fixed and she peered anxiously to see the result and cried out softly, 'Oh God. Oh God, why?'

       So now we were to it. What would she have to take off, one extra piece, and she strongly suspected it wouldn't be her blouse. How do the cunts always know? Some sort of twat radar, I suppose.

       I let ten minutes pass without a word and she looked so timid and vulnerable and she just didn't want to address her end of the bargain. I pretended I was indifferent, like it was no big deal.

       Finally she sensed how much I was enjoying her uncertainty, her dilemma, and she needed to put a halt to it all.

       'Why are you making me wait?' She asked.

       'I thought you knew. Give me your skirt.'

       Now her mind was going blank and for the first time her chin quivered and her lower lip trembled and she was indeed on the verge of tears. She really did look soft and defenceless and, oh so vulnerable. I loved how her face struggled and her eyes darted looking for escape or safety. Looking for a way away from me.

Page 9.

       Deeper inside, she wanted to lash out at me, tell me to fuck off and go to Hell, but we'd made a deal. She'd made a deal and so should play by the rules as it was the only game going. How could she hope to escape me if she antagonized me? And why should I be nice to her if she angered me? She was anything but a dumb broad and was pretty sure I knew it and that it mattered (to me that she was smart).

         I decided to give her an out.

         'Look, it's late and we're both tired. Why don't you leave it to tomorrow?'

         Of course, I knew she would jump at it and it would give me that much more time to savor the whole thing.

         She looked totally relieved and just nodded her head and that was that for then. As I did pass close by her, she whispered,  'Thank you.' I pretended not to hear. Gratitude for delaying the inevitable was delusion and false hope at its prime. But she had no idea, so I suppose she wasn't a total fool.

       I tied her to the bed, by the neck only, for the night and looked in on her a couple of times as she slept fitfully. I was sorely tempted to climb onto her and awaken her by thrusting inside her but resisted the temptations.

       I  awoke next morning all refreshed and energetic and, of course, anticipatory. I was sure she wouldn't share my enthusiasm. I mean, what would have changed overnight for her. Usually not much at all changes in a day, but not always. Look at 9/11 when America became altered forever and the thing was, she was facing a month of personal 9/11's, and if she had the stamina, her body could hold up, maybe even more than a month of them.

       Normally, I would read the morning paper over a bowl of cereal and some toast, but now I was anxious to re-make her acquaintance.

       I greeted her cheerfully, like normal people do starting a new work day, or at least ones who love their jobs and you might well assume I relished mine. I loved the tasks before me, in fact, embraced them with a passion and it wouldn't even seem like work coaxing her to take her clothes off.

Page 10.

       She looked really unrested, like she'd been awake most of the night either plotting or praying and I assumed she'd known I was standing over her, looming over her, contemplating penetrating her, even just with my fingers and right off, she wasn't receptive and I could see she had something she'd rehearsed on her mind. Something she needed to get off her tight little chest besides her sweater and bra and nipples.

       'I've changed my mind. I don't want to walk around for you so you can take pictures.'

       'Oh, what's happened since last night?' I asked.

       'I don't want to model for you, and that's all.'

       'OK, but you'll still take the piece of clothing off?'

       'Of course not. Of course not that too.'

       'Oh, well, that sucks. I thought we had a deal.'

       'We didn't. What we had was you forcing me to agree, coercing me, so it wasn't a deal. It was never something I would agree to on my own.'

       'Geeze, that's a disappointment. I'm disappointed with you too.'

       'Well, I suppose that's life. Isn't it? Full of them.'

       She was getting assertive and even feisty and for some reason thought she could assume the upper hand.

       'Yeah, but I haven't had too many disappointments lately, in fact none at all. And getting you in no way has been one.'

       'So then, it's your turn now. That's how it's going to be.'

       'And who decided that? You decided all by yourself?'

       I think what she was trying on me was her assertiveness training. It was classic cliche. Leave no room for doubt or negotiation. Eliminate all wiggle room and dictate, dictate, dictate.

       When I'd rather do the dick-taking.

       Her new approach was to seize and hold on to the upper hand while mine was to seize and squeeze her crotch. I'd hold on to it too.

       'What'd you do, take classes to learn to talk like that, to assert yourself like that?'

       'No. No. That's what I want, how it is and I'm not changing my mind.'

Page 11.

       'Shit, what am I talking about then, stupid me, you probably led the classes, you're so definite.'

       'That's all irrelevant and you're just speculating.'

       'You know, you really should think about it more. I can really change the way you look, modify your appearance.'

       'I don't care. My position is what I said.'

       I wasn't particularly in the mood to fight with her. I could always do that later. I was too tickled and giddy and still couldn't fully believe I had her and now she was setting the stage for being sexually punished. It was like watching a movie with a really great looking woman in it and saying to yourself, 'wouldn't she be nice to do' except that in my case it wasn't make believe. 'Wouldn't she be nice?' - 'Fuck, is she going to be nice.' Big difference, huge monumental difference.

       'I'll tell you what, how about we have some breakfast together?'

       'Uh? What? Where, here?'

       'Yeah, here. I'll bring it up to you, can we agree on that?'

       'No we can't. I'm hungry. I'll eat with you but only if you take me down from here to the kitchen.' She was getting bolder and thought she had me on the run and she might be able to make a run for it.

       'What for? The food won't taste any better down there.'

       'I know. Of course, but those are my terms.'

       I so fucking loved it. She thought she had terms, although I suppose a life sentence is one, although in the prison system, it's considered indeterminate, whereas a term sentence is considered determinate. Such were the technicalities of keeping her beyond her last breath.

       She said it again, more emphatically, 'Those are my terms. Understand?'

       'I can't really do that, there are other people in the house.'

       (There weren't but I wanted her to think so, so she'd have some hope of attracting their attention and scream all the louder for her false hopes. I always could play a recording to make it sound like someone else was there, even one that sounded as if the cops were at the door.)

Page 12.

       I'm not entirely sure she believed me and she looked at me distrustful. I knew she'd have to work that one through in her mind because why would I say it, if it wasn't true? Of course, I knew victims, my guests, were so much more enjoyable to torment when they still had hope. That was the star ingredient. When that finally got wacked or burned or sliced out of them, and resignation set in, the spunk factor was gone and so were some of the peaks of my greatest pleasures. They had to want to fight and believe there was a point to resisting.

       I continued, 'There's others about downstairs so I'll have to bring it up.'

       She nodded OK and I headed to the kitchen. I made up two basic breakfasts of shredded wheat, toast and juice and was back up to her in no time. She was still fastened securely to the bed by a strong neck line, so now she could sit up and she ate her food much faster than me.

       'Want some more?'

       'Maybe a little later, and some coffee.' she said.

       'Sure, whatever suits you.' I seemed so congenial.

       The thing was, she still wanted to get the undressing thing taken back, to be sure I understood it wasn't going to happen, and certainly there would be no sex. She wasn't about to spread her legs for me, to wrap her labia around my shaft. I ate slowly, which I normally did anyway, but this time more methodically and never enjoyed a meal more just watching her. It's funny how much better it tasted when I was so alive inside. And I knew she'd taste even better inside.

       She started in again, right out of the blue, 'I meant it. I mean it, you know. I don't want to pose or undress for you and you don't get to touch me.'

       'Yeah, I know. You told me and I told you how disappointed I was, I am. But I suppose I'll get over it. But I also told you I can make you look different and you seemed to ignore it.'

       'And I told you I don't care. So you'll let it be then?'

       And she actually didn't seem worried. She probably thought I meant I could hack her long hair off and not her perky tits. Whatever it was, the implications were avoiding her.

       'I guess it doesn't matter.' I said.

       She looked relieved, like she really believed me. But how could she? Possibly?

Page 13.

       I decided to throw her a curve.

       'Besides, it's probably just as well. I have to get ready for a trade show for a business I run and I can't devote much quality time right now to you anyway.'

       'A trade show, for what? You have a business?'

       (Yeah, the job of exterminating cunts like her.)

       'Yeah, and I'm telling you, they're - trade shows are great places to find prime cunts like you. Absolutely the best.'

       'But no. How long?'

       'Four days for the show and one to set up and another to dismantle.'

       'What? No. No. What about me? You're going to release me now then? Aren't you? Before?'

       'Well, not hardly. You didn't even do the skirt off even though you gave your word. So not hardly.'

       'But four, five, six days. You can't keep me here six days because I didn't model or walk. Oh God, what are you saying?'

       I told you. I've got business and right now, you're not it.'

       She looked at me stunned and defeated.

       'Very well, then have it your way.' And she started to undo her skirt buttons on the side. She was to the second one down.

       'What's that about? I thought you said..' I said.

       She kept at it until they were all unfastened. She glared at me plenty pissed and then wriggled out of her skirt. God, her legs and hips were beautiful and her underwear was like I described, the mesh transparent type, under her panty hose and the thing was it all was pulled up into her slit just enough that it split her ever so slightly and her mounds were a bit apparent. I pretended to barely notice but my cock almost jumped out of its foreskin.

Page 14.

       Then she went to surprise me. She started to pull her sweater off too.

       'What are you doing?'

       'Stripping for you. That's what you wanted. For me to model for you in my underwear to take your pictures.'

       'Yeah, but just the bottom. We flipped and you lost and I chose the bottom, your skirt. Nobody said anything about your tits being out.'

       'But you'd want both eventually, I know. So..'

       'No. No. No. We had a deal and I always keep my end.'

       'So you don't want to see my.. You don't want to see my breasts?'

       'First of all, they're not breasts, they're tits. Tits. Tits. Say it.'

       She shot me the glare but complied.

       'Don't you want to see my tits? I know you'll want to eventually.'

       She had me dead to rights there, but she didn't know I wanted to see them sliced off with the nipples already removed.

       'No. No, not like this. You don't get to say when. Not ever. Who do you think's in control?'

       She was starting to sense she'd outsmarted herself and shot me a dirty, angry look, pretty well like furious by now. It's as if she'd thought I hadn't realized I was the one in control, and just now did and was willing to exercise it, like I had my nerve using what was mine, the control over her that is. She still hadn't deduced how much she was mine and how much of her I could twist off or out of shape.

       'Look, I'm starting to get pissed with you. Why won't you co-operate and do just as I say? Don't make assumptions. Don't make decisions. Just do as I fucking well tell you and nothing else. Why can't you understand. Or do you just not care? Really not care like you said?'

Page 15.

       'Because. Because I don't trust you. Because I think you're going to kill me. The more I think about it, I think you'll do it anyway. I know your face. I think you'll hurt me and I think you'll end up killing me. I know...'

       'Well that's the first I've heard of that, but you want to make sure that I do?'

       'No. No, of course not, but if it's not going to make a difference, if you're going to anyway...'

       'But even if you're right,' I interrupted her, 'it could make a difference how you die. How much it hurts and how, like how painfull.'

       She fell silent for a few minutes trembling lightly and then she just had to ask.

       'OK. OK. What did you mean? What you said before, how I'd look different? You know, what did you mean?'

       'Oh, I don't know. Nothing specific.' I lied.

       'Yes you do. You do so. You had something in mind when you said it, so tell me. You said it twice.'

       'No, I don't think you want to know.'

       'Because it's terrible, is that it? Something horrible you'd have done to me.'

       'Why don't you just co-operate then, if suddenly you're so concerned? And you weren't before.'

       'I was before, but I just let it go by. I thought it might be something like you'd cut off my long hair. That'd make me look different, but now I think it could be something worse. Something I couldn't imagine, like unthinkable.'

       'Like unimaginably horrible? What made you change your mind now?'

       'I don't know. Just a feeling. The way you look at me sometimes, maybe. I don't know.'

       'Well you really don't need to know exactly, but your radar, your intuition's petty good, so let's skip it.'

       'No. You tell me. You tell me first so I know.'

       'Look, I really don't want to scare the shit out of you.'

       'I don't scare easily. I'm not afraid of you now so don't think that matters. I'm not afraid to die.'

Page 16.

       'Confidant little snot, aren't you?'

       'Go to Hell. I'm just not afraid of a twerp like you, a loser like you. You're a degenerate and you're not worthy of my fear.'

       'That's good. I don't want you to be afraid of me.'

       'Well I'm not even though I might seem it sometimes.'

       'I want you to be terrified of me.'

       Now she looked less certain and fell to the silence again. But I knew she wasn't done asking, which she got back to in about ten minutes.

       'Are you or aren't you going to inform me?'

       I gave her a wry look, like it was all too much trouble, but had, in fact, been rehearsing just what I'd say.

       'OK. So yeah, if you really have to know, but I don't think you're at all ready for this. I guess the simplest, the most obvious would be if you still have your tits.'

       I looked right into her eyes as I said it and saw the fear pass behind them. She forced herself not to look away, not to break eye contact with me and just barely had her gulp as her throat tightened.

       'OK, what else?'

       'Well, that would show the most obvious, because there would be nothing left to fill your sweater. You could burn all your bras because you'd have nothing to put in them.' I joked.

       'You're sick. Sick, sick, sick. What else?'

       'I could cut your nose off or punch you a few times in it. - I was just fooling. I love your face, you're so beautiful and perfect and I wouldn't want to mar it.'

       'What else then?'

       'Geeze, you really want to dig. Not having your tits isn't enough? You know, they don't have to be cut off, they can be ripped off. I can tie you up a certain way and hang you up in the air by them and pull you down by your ankles, force you down until they tear free. Would you want that?'

       'Of course not. No woman in the world would want that.'

       'But it's been done before.' I said.

Page 17.

       I wanted her to make that special connection that I'd done it before so wanted to give her time to mull.

       'I'll be back in a few minutes.' I said and started out of the room.

       The moment I opened the door she hollered for help at the top of her lungs. I slammed the door quickly, like it mattered.

       I returned after about fifteen minutes and she addressed it immediately. 'What you said. You're trying to tell me, trying to infer to me that you've done that?'

       'Yup.' I smiled proudly. 'And by the way, no one heard you, they were all out.'

       'I don't believe you, that you did it. I think you're trying to scare me worse, to coerce me.'

       'You don't believe me?'

       'No. No I don't.'

       'I've got the pictures to prove it, and the tapes of the screams. Want to see them and hear them?'

       At first, she didn't answer at all and then let out with, 'If you did that, actually did that, you should burn in Hell. You will burn in Hell.'

       'Burn. Burn. OK. So see, that's the other thing about how you could look but it wouldn't be immediately evident. What if your clitoris was burned to a crisp? Your underpants on you would look the same, but inside of them, oh shit. Do you think that would freak you? While it was being done, and after? You'd end up with a scab for a clit, not a scab on it but the whole fuckless thing hard and shriveled? And what about your cervix? Want me to go on? Or do you think maybe you should re-consider co-operating which is what started this whole splendid conversation in the first place?'

       'I, I don't know. I don't know now.'

       'So now you're afraid of me? And you were all along?'

       'I... I don't... I can't think right now.'

       'Well, you do that, you think about it. I've got some more stuff to attend to and I'll be back in a bit. So you just think it all through. I'm sure you'll come up with the right answers, the practical ones. You're not that stupid. You're not that brave even though you're not afraid of me, as you say or you pretend you're not afraid of me. You're not that brave that you'd want to lose your tits or have me torturing your cunt insides, like slowly mutilating. You think about it. Don't think just about how it'd look, think about how it'd feel. About the unrelenting pain of it all. And how you'd never have a kid if you wanted one.'

Page 18.

       I gave her cheek a smack and then kissed her where I'd hit her.

       'If I kiss your lips, is that going to upset you? If I do that? Or are you one of those women who thinks kissing is more intimate than fucking? That it has deeper meaning, like emotions? Like emotional content?'

       'No. No. OK. I guess.'

       I went to kiss her mouth but whispered, 'I don't mean these lips.'

       She froze and I kissed her mouth anyway and whispered again, 'And you know, those would come off first.' Through her blouse and bra, I gave her slightly raised nipples a hard pinch, one after the other. 'And then there's pliers. It just seems to me that pliers and a woman's nipples, a woman's erect nipples are made for each other. Wouldn't you agree?'

       'You're sick. So sick.'

       'And then there's fish hooks too. So you can see there's lots of ready made variety, readily available. Or is that redundant?'

       'Uh?'

       'Ready and readily?'

       'Why would I care about that?'

       'Yeah, I guess you're right but I think I've made my point. Haven't I?'

       She wouldn't acknowledge my question.

       'You don't see it? No, I suppose you don't. You don't want to. But you very easily could. I'd gladly oblige you but now I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want that. Would that be a safe assumption?

       'You know it is. You bastard, you know.'

       'Yeah, I'm just teasing you, toying with you. You're my plaything. You know that?'

       'Well don't and I'm not. I'm a human being, and you have no right.'

       'Right? Rights? I have all the fucking rights and you have none. Not one fucking one, so get that straight.'

       'Those tools, those instruments you said, you're nuts.'

       'Yeah, that could well be, but you see, there's a whole fraternity of us guys and we all go to the same hardware stores for the same torture tools. There's even web sites where we can share our exploits and others with some fantastic detailed pictures.'

       Visit:        http://www.paintoy.com/sample/index.html

       'But that'd be illegal.'

       'Yes but they're only stories, with the usual disclaimers.'

       'But yours aren't? So that's what you're up to? You write about what you do to women?'

Page 19.

       'Yup, but nobody knows that, but a few.'

       'A few? Who else would know?'

       'Well you and the others I've had here. That's who.'

       She so wanted to ask, 'How many?' But sensed she wouldn't like the answer, so didn't ask. And she'd have been right. A nice even sweet sixteen counting her, although, technically, she wasn't dead yet. And that was just for here, where she was now, and didn't count Canada's three or the dozen or so before in my old, less adequate location down in Florida.

       All of a sudden I felt a surge of being fed up with her. I loved her but felt like chewing her out, - and inside her canal.

       'You fucking cunt, you're so stupid. You just don't know. You have no fucking idea.You think I have to be civilized, play by your perception of what being civilized is. Well I don't.'

       I looked at her like I had utter disdain for her. I liked making her think I thought she was garbage when, in fact, she was the crown jewels and she kept that little spongy pearl right at the top of her cunt opening. If she was garbage, then pigs were gazelles and swans were ugly ducklings. She didn't have an ugly bone in her body and I'd get to see them all eventually but not before I broke quite a few. Not right away, but later, I loved tapping one of her ribs with a hammer, keeping at it, until I heard the fracture. And sometimes I'd get careless and not knowing my own strength, or her weakness, hit too hard the first wack, and crack it - like testing the reflexes on a person's knee. Fast little shots and then the hard wack or forty and I could make it take a hundred and forty if I wanted. Frequency was solely at my discretion. Like how many times she got to go to the bathroom or she got to cum or how many needles were shoved through her nipples or how many nipples she got to keep.

       And that's something which should be addressed, about a torture victim having orgasms. Just because a woman doesn't want to, doesn't mean she won't have an orgasm. Get onto her clit just the right way with soft tender strokes and the odd hard pinch, pressure and grind her just right, which is usually best achieved by finger fucking her, and she can't help herself. Her twat betrays her body and soul and it makes it seem like she's a whore. Which then becomes justification for greater and deeper abuses. Damned if she doesn't and more damned if she does. How utterly perfect and thoughtful and full life can be.

Page 20.

       'So that's the story. That's my tale. You think about it for awhile.'

       She threw me the defiance look, but inside she was churning. What if I was saying was the truth? She started to cry soon after I left and it looked like she was praying too. I could see it all through a two-way mirror as I watched from an adjoining room. I had open mikes where she was and while she was very quiet, I know that I heard, 'do not forsake me.' (As if God hadn't, as if that hadn't already happened.)

       I returned in half an hour and she was all ready to seize the initiative. It was as if she wasn't even going to acknowledge about the horrible things I'd described to her and she thought she could slide on by them if she made me spontaneous offerings.

       'So what are you going to do? You're going to take your pictures, aren't you? The pictures of me, you still want to?'

       'Not now. I have other things in mind.'

       'But, but you were before. Before I said you couldn't, you said you were. You wanted me to..'

       'That was then and this is now.'

       She looked crestfallen and then surprised me again.

       She pulled her panty hoze down and off and then her panties too and slid down flat and spread her legs wide on the bed. I could have driven a truck or at least a baseball bat or my fist and arm right into her.

       'Look. Look at me. Here's your picture.'

       And that it surely was, one to behold. I have never seen a tidier vagina. Perfect tiny lips half the size of her mouth and just the most exquisite parallel mounds. Her bush was darker, so she must have dyed her shoulder length hair. But her fuzz wasn't long so it revealed her contours just perfectly. I wanted to do her so badly I almost couldn't keep my ruse going any longer. There was no trade show right now. I had a small security service business but never did the shows because then a connection could be made. I just went to them to hunt cunt and liked to think of myself as the biggest game hunter of all, certainly for the best game in the town wherever I happened to be skulking and lurking.

       'Close your fucking legs and act like a lady.'

       'But you have to do it now. Take your pictures now. You can't expect me to wait six days. No. No, I can't stay that long.'

       'Fucking close them and shut the fuck up And what's with your bush, why don't you shave yourself? Bald cunts are so much more of a turn on. Maybe I should shave you myself.'

Page 21.

       'I.. I.. No God please...'

       I wasn't talking to her the same now and any notion she had that I didn't know exactly what I was doing, that I might just have been trying to scare her, was quickly evaporating. She pulled herself partway up and sat there stumped and quiet and wrapped her arms around in front of her chest and started to rock herself gently forth and back. Why did they often do that? I thought. I guess to comfort themselves, by hugging themselves, that must be it. Plus it guarded their tits and sort of hid them too.

       I let her embrace herself for awhile longer, her tits mashed under her arms, as she rocked for maybe ten minutes more and then went and retrieved my digital camera. I set it on the highest resolution.

       'Alright then. OK. Stop looking so upset and sad. You look so worried. We'll take some pictures. If that's what you want we can do that now and nothing else.'

       She looked squarely up into my face and I could feel her eyes pleading and then she looked to the camera and pleaded with it and looked back into my face.

       'How do you want me? But I'd like to put my panties back on. I shouldn't have taken them off.'

       I picked them up and wiped them right across my mouth and smelled them and I wouldn't give them back to her.

       'What, no crotch shots? No money shots? No fucking way. What you did before, do it again.'

       She slid down again flat and spread her legs, but only half way. Now she wasn't so anxious to do it or I suppose she was more anxious, applying the true meaning of the word. Now she was possessed by greater anxiety. With her renewed crotch display, how was I going to keep from poking her, both she and I thought.

       'Come on, Further apart. Like before. Even wider.'

       She didn't want to and only marginally opened them more.

       My cock was getting pretty itchy for her juice and I didn't want to fuck her yet so I needed a diversion.

       'No? You're not ready? Pull your blouse off, then. You don't have to undo it.'

       'But no. You said just one.'

       'Then don't pull it off and I'll stick my camera right between your labia, right into your fucking canal.'

       This wasn't going well for her. She pulled her blouse up and her bra pushed out and her face was covered.

       'Hold it right there. I want some pictures of that. Your chest is so fucking sweet.'

       And they made such targets, I thought to myself quietly.

Page 22.

       She couldn't see the saliva dripping from my chin like the big bad wolf. I shot two dozen snaps.

       Now came her real surprise, like a nasty one I had saved up.

       Something I always kept handy was my trusty Daisy BB gun. It was a lever action rifle. I'd used it to shoot Playboy pictures as a boy before I graduated to the real thing and while not particularly powerful, it could hurt pretty good from close up. I picked it up and shook it and, of course, she could hear the BB's inside.

       'What? What's that? What's that sound? You're not taking pictures anymore.'

       'But I am taking aim. I will.'

       She went to pull her blouse down so she could see.

       I barked at her, 'I told you hold it right there. You fucking do as you're told.'

       I wasn't angry but I sounded it pretty good and seemed much more threatening, like dangerous.

       She left her face covered.

       I cocked the gun to load the pellet.

       'What is that? Tell me. What is that sound? Please.'

       I stood over her, sitting half up on the bed, and pointed the barrel all up and down her sweet body and several times just inches from her cunt, then down her legs and back up to her head and then right to her tit, I wiggled it inside her bra, about an inch off her areola. She'd hardened. Was that the spot when she'd know for real just how bad off she was? I pointed it back into her cunt. That would be even better, more decisive, I thought. No, I returned to her tit spot, the chosen one, but this time outside her bra.

       When I fired, she exploded.

       She yanked her blouse off and hollered and screeched at me. Some of the buttons tore off she did it so violently. I'm not sure what I expected but she went ballistic vitriolic and did she know some choice words. I couldn't really swear like her because I never got that angry so it would just sound artificial.

       'You fucking jizzer. (I didn't even know what that was, but it sounded like it had something to do with sex, and when I Googled it, found out I was somewhat right.) You fucking demented maniac. (No problem with that meaning.) What do you think you're doing? You shit stain.'

       'Just getting your attention.' I joked.

Page 23.

       She was peering down at her breasts. She'd pulled her bra up to see the little red welt the BB'd left. It hadn't broken the skin even though I was only an inch away when I fired, I suppose the fabric and all, but God were her tits beautiful, even perkier than her nose and a perfect extension of her crotch.

       'Hold it.' I said. 'Let me get some pictures. I like how you look, what you're doing.'

       'Go to fucking shit Hell. You belong in a toilet with all the other shit and crap. Who do you think you are doing that to me?'

       I shook the rifle.

       'I've got lots more.'

       She twisted away and heard me cock it again. She knew what the sound meant. I just sort of waved the barrel at her.

       'For the love of God, why? Stop. For the love of God, don't. Not again.'

       I put the barrel to her head just back of her ear and poked her.

       'Take your bra all the way off. I want you fucking naked.'

       'No. No. Don't. God.'

       She jerked her head to the side and her arm up and I pushed the barrel into her soft armpit, right against her pit hair and fired. This time the pellet went in and she gave the most spectacular 'aaarrrggghhh' and then she clutched the wound with her other hand and felt the little bit of blood. She pulled her hand away and held it out towards me, pitifully, to show me she was bleeding, like somehow now that mattered extra and should give me cause to pause.

       'Well?' I asked satisfied. 'I guess that hurt?'

       I cocked the gun again.

       'Off. I said all off.'

       Now she gingerly undid the front catch and let it slowly fall, all the while I had the barrel about an inch from her bud. She just waited for the nipple shot. But I had four-hundred shots. I went down to her ankle and blasted her big toe nail, and she jerked both feet all about and at first I thought the BB had ricochet, but it hadn't. It had split her nail and it was just slightly lodged in it but it must have fucking hurt like Hell. She got her hands down to pull it out and screamed even louder.

       'What do you want? Stop it. Why are you doing this? What do you want?'

       It was time.

       It was time for her to know.

Page 24.

       'I want you to spread your legs again and keep them open wide no matter what.'

       Nothing more had to be said. She went into the mewling mode.

       'You wouldn't. Oh God, no. Never. No, you wouldn't.'

       They were empty words and she knew better.

       'I've got four-hundred shots, well not anymore. Make that three-hundred and ninety-seven and I'll use every one if I have to. And if that doesn't do it, I'll get another pack and start all over.'

       So, what, for the love of God, were her options? One in the pussy or a thousand elsewhere. Now she would have to steel herself like she'd never had to before. Even worse than in the dentist's chair which terrified her. The sound of his drill. Little did she know I had my own supply of drills too.

       Ever so slowly she opened up her crotch for the shot.

       I kissed her and nuzzled her bush.

       She smelled like delicious meat.

       I pulled out on individual hairs between my teeth.

       I traced the line of her uninjured labia with my index finger but didn't finger her.

       I kissed her face and her other lips, the ones on her face. I could feel them quivering and salty from her free flowing tears. I licked them off of her cheeks also. She looked so breakable.

       I moved the barrel to her nipple tip and shoved it in hard until it was buried in her breast flesh pressed firmly against her under rib. She was sure I was going to fire. I did, but there was no BB in the chamber (on purpose) and only the blast of compressed air hit her. She shrieked but quickly realized she wasn't punctured.

       I ran the barrel down to her cunt and along the outer edge of her labia and wiggled it in just a tad. I slid it up and down along her opening but didn't go in deeper. She got wet. Her clit hardened and I could see it flick as the barrel first pressed onto it and then cleared it, slipped off it. I swear I could hear it click too as she became even more engorged and hardened.

       'Do you want it in the clit or the cervix?'

       She pleaded with her eyes and her whimpers.

       'Which one?'

       She couldn't bring herself to say.

       'Fucking which one?'

       Still there was just her trembling silence.

       'Very well, both it is then.'

       'No. No, no. God no. At the opening then. Outside. Not deep inside me. Oh please no.'

       'Too late. Too fucking late.'

       'Anything. Anything, I'll do anything you want but don't hurt me like that. You don't have to. I'll do anything.'

       'You'll let me fuck you. You want me to fuck you? Now?'

Page 25.

       'Yes. Yes. If that's what you want.'

       'But you didn't before. You said you didn't.'

       'I know, but now it's OK.'

       'In the ass too and across your tits? You'll let me fuck your nipples? And pierce them?'

       'Oh please no. No not that too.'

       'Then, then right into your pink it is. I'm going to shoot you in the cunt.'

       'No. No. Yes, fuck me anyway you want, if that's what you want.'

       'Fucking right it is. Why do you think you're here?'

       'Yes, if you want.'

       'OK. Good on you. Good on you, sweetheart. But look, I want to be fair. I'll give you an alternative. One to the nipple and we'll get on with the screwing.'

       'Uh? Pardon?'

       'I'm going to BB your bud and then we fuck.'

       'No you can't. It's not right.'

       'You know the alternatives. So?'

       'Oh, you can't be serious.'

       'Do I look like I'm joking? Or sound like it?'

       'Please, not close up then. From a distance then but not so near.'

       'Like target practice. Nipple bull's eyes?'

       'I. I can't. Whatever you want to call it but from farther away.'

       'You know what? I think I'm going to leave it for awhile. You look pretty upset and I think I've scared you pretty good. I'm in no hurry besides you look like you could use something else to eat. Are you hungry again?'

       She looked at me like I was kidding, like I was nuts. How could I change so quickly? Change the dynamics, the topic so quick? But she knew too that by saying yes, the current momentum would be broken and she was, in fact, hungry from all the terrified energy she'd just expended.  She'd used up a lot of it squirming and from fright so she needed the calories. She was starting to get faint, not just from the abuse but from the actual hunger. I didn't mind her passing out because her clit was being shot through or roasted but I didn't much appreciate it when it was just from an empty gut.

       I wanted her to faint for true causes.

       And the thing was, I seemed to have a special knack for taking the ordinary and infusing it with the perverse.

       I decided she should have her snack, standing up. I'd had the idea for quite awhile and was finally up for trying it out and now the time was just right since I really wanted to get her first cunt penetration out of the way, before I lodged a pellet in her pink or shot her nipple to the side.

       'Yes, please, please feed me. I'm getting faint and I'm quite hungry now.'

       'Yes. Sure, I guess I should, but you have to eat standing up. In fact, we'll eat together standing up.'

       (What I meant was joined together.)

       She looked at me quizzically as if to imply, ' So what?'

Page 26.

       But she really wanted to scream out at the top of her lungs, scream out at me, 'So fucking what?' as she did later when I'd say something that made no fucking sense until she felt the torture attached to it. But for some reason, she bit her urge now. I suspect she sensed it would only make things worse for her.

       I handed her panties back to her.

       'Here, you can have some modesty again. At least for awhile. Cover your cunt up.'

       She slid and wriggled into them and her breasts jiggled just right. She wasn't getting her bra back on, that was for sure.

       'Let me cover my chest too. please.'

       'Be satisfied with small mercies, your tits stay out. I love looking at them too much, thinking about suckling them.'

       'Please. Just please, in my underwear, like you said before. And I'll model for you. I'll strut and walk and even sex it up for you, so you can get some good pictures. So please, my bra too.'

       She made a persuasive argument so I changed my mind and relented. She hung forward to get her tits into the cups and her arms through the straps and did the front catch up.

       'Here, let me adjust it for you.' I offered.

       She went to keep doing it herself, but stopped and let me take over. I pulled the cups tighter to her mounds and lightly kissed each nipple through the stretched fabric. Her tits were done for. They were goners. There was no fucking way I'd let her keep them.

       I helped her up off the bed, and guided her over to where I wanted her standing.  I walked behind her with my arms outstretched, gripping both her upper arms while leering down at her ass cheeks though her panties. I could have sphinctered her right then but checked the urge.

       I secured her neck tether to a ceiling eyelet and stepped back to view my handy work and what I intended to do to her now.

       She was so helpless and striking just standing there completely vulnerable and subject to my every whim.

       'I've changed my mind. I want you naked while we eat. Take them off again.'

Page 27.

       'No. Please, you said I could be covered. I could have some modesty, at least while we eat.'

       'I've changed my mind, or at least my cock's changed its.'

       'Please. Please, just let me...'

       I picked up the BB gun.

       She was naked in ten seconds.

       'So. So, I want to try something a little different, while we eat, but I'll need your help.'

       'Oh no, please. What now?'

       'No. No, I promise it won't hurt. If it hurts you, I'll let you go. How's that?'

       She couldn't believe what she was hearing but didn't trust me entirely either. It was the very first mention I'd made to her about the possibility of freeing her.

       'No. I don't think you're sincere about that. Are you? I said I think you're going to kill me because I know what you look like. So how can you be sincere? Are you?' Under her suspicions, she asked it all so hopefully.

       'You have my word, as God's truth but you have to really co-operate and it'll take a little effort on your part, on both our parts.'

       'OK. OK, I suppose, what do you want me to do?'

       'I want to tie you with your legs apart, with your ankles apart a couple of feet.'

       'What? To watch me eat. You want to do that? Why?'

       'I said you have to co-operate, and that isn't asking a bunch of dumb questions, irrelevant questions, so you're already off to a bad start. Do you understand that?'

       'OK. OK, just get on with it then.'

       I retrieved the tools I needed and drilled pilot holes first and then screwed two, three inch steel eyelets into the floor and tied off her ankles to them using medium gauge nylon cord. She could wriggle her feet a bit but not move them any real distance in any direction.

Page 28.

       She did try to squeeze her knees in together to lessen the exposure of her cunt and it was really sweet to watch. Like she was trying to protect her womanhood. I ran my hands up her long spread legs and brushed her bush. Her whole area was tight and hard and showed no inner detail. I gripped onto both sides of her hips and planted a light kiss right on her silk but didn't lick her inside. She recoiled and pulled away and back but she couldn't move far from my happy face.

       As was often the case with any bitch I kidnapped and held, she was fastened to the ceiling, like I said, by a steel cable around her throat, although now she had about four feet of slack which meant if she went to try anything, like to strike out or overpower me, I could flit away quickly and still whip the living shit out of her for trying. I liked nylon fishing rods best for whipping them and sometimes, I'd leave the last little metal loop, at the very end, on, which then became more like whip 'n' cut into the flesh, like flay it. I could always use a package of four-hundred BB's also.

       Right now, she wasn't up for another revolt. Not just yet but she'd get to it again. This I knew. Her ass cheeks were such a target for the fly rod and I'd whipped the bed a few good swishes so she could see the potential for her flesh being lacerated. The white bed sheet was nicked and shredded in several spots.

       I remembered the Quebec cunt and how I'd given her the baker's dozen across her chest. It wasn't a lucky number for her and her tits got redder and stripped and well nicked. I chuckled to myself upon realizing how much I enjoyed flaying her, how much I enjoyed giving her that present, that it made me 'Good Old St. Nick.' I was also given to flights of silliness and it was time to get back to my lunch guest.

       Her feet were secured just right. I had her four feet out from the wall and a vertical wall stud with her back to it. Now it was time to get ingenious.

Page 29.

       I cut a piece of two-by-four to a five foot length. I screwed an eyelet into each of the cut ends. I screwed another eyelet into the wall stud directly behind her at her waist level. I tied one end of the two-by-four to the wall eyelet. Of course, she wanted to know what I was doing, what I was up to and why. Which, I knew exactly my goal.        She kept twisting around to look behind her which I loved how it made her one tit hang lower than the other. She'd be better off minding her own business, I thought, but appreciated that she couldn't. When she twisted about, for an extra good look, I had to cup her and squeeze her. She jerked back to face forward. I cut off a piece of the medium gauge nylon cord and tied two knots in it about an inch apart. I came to her and faced her and tied the line tightly around her waist with the two knots in the small of her back.

       'For God's sake, what is it you're doing? What are you up to? This is all so elaborate. What is it about?'

       'No. Not at all, it's really quite simple. I've got the dynamics, the process all worked out.'

       'Well, I can't see it. What's it all for? I just want to eat.'

       'Soon. Don't be impatient. Soon, we'll feast together.'

       Now it was time to implement.

       'Stand still. I want to attach this.'

       'Like what? What? Why?'

       'Just stand fucking still.'

       I started to push her waist forward, her ass forward and finally lodged the two-by-four into her back small. I tied off the eyelet to the cord around her waist between the two knots so it couldn't slip either way. She was fairly uncomfortable now and still didn't get it. She couldn't stand upright but wasn't falling down either, like by losing her balance. She was really arched to the limit of being able to remain upright. Her ass was pushed forward by a foot  and her leg muscles strained. All in all, it didn't really hurt but was just undignified. How could I get pleasure from such a purile pursuit, she wondered.

       'What's wrong with you. Why are you, - how can you enjoy this? It's so juvenile.'

Page 30.

       Now I walked around to face her and it was just as I'd engineered. Her cunt was right out forward like a car hood ornament from the fifties and her breasts sort of lay down her chest which was angled and laid back. God was she a special picture. Like, 'Come and get it. Here's my pussy, come and lick it and stick it.'

       Now she was angry and defiant.

       'OK. OK, so you've got me this way. How can you get pleasure from this? Just seeing me standing like this which I can't help. But so what? So I'm more exposed. Is that your jolly?'

       'Absolutely. Fucking right, but that's not all of it.'

       'Huh? What? What's this shit? You want to take some more pictures, your dirty little school boy pictures of me like this?'

       'Yeah, I suppose I could do that too. But later. This isn't all of it. But I have to get us some food first. It'll take a few minutes, so don't go anywhere.' I joked.

       'Go to Hell. You're sick and you're pathetic. I hate you. Go to Hell. Don't you fucking leave me like this.'

       I ignored her orders and was off to the kitchen. As I opened the door, she hollered again for help, only this time really loudly, like shrieked for their attention. I was just so pleased how I'd fooled her.

       I had some ready made ham sandwiches from the deli, which was handy since I didn't  have to spend time making them which meant more torture time for her. I had some Dad's oatmeal cookies and a jug of milk. And, of course, the ever ubiquitous bananas. I had ones that were barely ripe so they'd be extra firm and never kept them in the refrigerator, as some people mistakenly did. They are a tropical fruit never intended for refrigeration. I wanted her to have good nutrition to stay healthy and toned for my abuses. I was back to her with them on a tray.

       She called for help again, as I entered, but less convincingly.

       'Still standing, I see. Like the leaning tower of Pisa. A might uncomfortable and undignified though, don't you think? But, I must say, you look pretty good to me with your hips out like that, like your cunt wants it. Like it's calling to me, come and get it. Come and probe me and explore me.'

       'Go to Hell. Just let me eat. You're filthy disgusting.'

       I brought a small table over and set it in front of her, but off to the side a bit and set the food tray on it. She could just reach her stuff with one hand by twisting to the side and pulling herself down.

       She went to do so.

       'No. No. hold it.'

            Continued in next folder.....