INCREmental Sexual Violence

INCREmental Sexual Violence

Page 1.

       Finally things appeared to be going well for me again.

       I'd had a real dry spell, almost three weeks, which was pretty well a record. I was tired of jerking off and wanted the real pussy again, but every potential kidnapping victim I'd stalked, and was ready to snatch, the plans had gone off track for various and sundry reasons and I was becoming pretty pissed. And when I got that way, I could be careless, and it wasn't carelessness that was allowing me to line up victim number seventeen.

       I was feeling dejected after the last failed attempt, whereby I'd escaped detection, just by the skin of my teeth and was skimming the evening news on my personal video recorder, just to catch up on the main stuff. I was set to erase what was there, but thought I should check the financial segment to see if anything was affecting my stock holdings, which were substantial.

       As the images clicked by, one caught my eye. And I was back to it in a flash. Fuck, was she good looking. She was a family therapist, commenting on how today's hyperactive children were putting a strain on family life and was offering counteractive measures to help parents cope. I fucking had her on tape and, of course, her name was featured prominently. And to think I'd almost erased it. One little push of the button and she would have been gone, and I'd never have known she existed.

       Geeze, was fate fickle

       I knew, in that same flash, we were going to meet.

       I just fucking knew it.

       I Goggled her within minutes, and in no time the website for her practice was before me, with a really nice picture of her, plus quite a few more of her at various functions. It seemed she was well respected and sought after as a guest speaker. She seemed to warm to the attention. I wondered how she'd warm to mine.

       And I knew how to seek after her too.

       Part of her website revealed she was located in a converted, seven story, General Electric manufacturing plant that once was known as 'Radio Valve', up until the early nineteen fifties.

Page 2.

       Of all helpful things, I knew the building well and it was massive. Large portions had never been converted because of practical considerations and then there was the basement and lower ramps that had been used for some truck accesses. The basement was a dungeon and went on for ever and portions had been shut off from use for many years. Between the partitioning, and hallways and dead ends, and multiple staircases and freight elevators, the building was a kidnapper's paradise.

       I'd phoned her, a week earlier, from a payphone so there'd be no traceable record, on the guise that my cell phone battery had just died, to make an appointment.

       And now I was there to keep my appointment with her cunt.

       The thing was, I'd made it for the last one of her day. She worked until nine pm on Thursdays, and I was supposed to be there for eight and I pay-phoned her ten minutes late to let her know traffic had been bad and I'd be there shortly, and was my wife there already? She wasn't because she didn't exist.

       I was into the parking level and had little trouble finding my way into the unused portion of the basement where my transport van was now hidden and waiting for us.

       I had an expensive briefcase, I'd picked up at a garage sale, with all the usual kidnapping shit in it, one might need. Mainly, a handgun and switchblade, ropes and cords, a gag and I threw in a few extras like needles and nails for piercing and a taser for zapping. And even a clothes line adjustor and a hammer and ever useful duct tape.

       I was at her office door, which she had locked, I guessed for safety reasons because it was later and already dark outside. She could never be too careful, or so she thought. And yet the wolf was at her door.

       Standing erect with an erection.

       There was absolutely no one around. It was the beginning of a long holiday weekend and buggering off early was the top priority of the many others who worked in the building. The therapist was extra dedicated and always put her patients first. Even new ones, she hadn't yet met.  I'd come along a back corridor and in through an exit that was supposed to be locked.

       I'd visited earlier to set it all up.

       I took a deep fucking breath, gave my cock a last grip, to adjust its swollen position, and tapped ever to gently on the entrance to her existence.

Page 3.

       She called out, from what seemed like another room, 'Yes. Just a minute. Mr. Williams. Bill Williams?'

       Her voice was getting stronger as she spoke.

       'Yes. Yes it is. I'm sorry I'm late.'

       I could hear her approaching the door and she had no fucking idea her world was about to start revolving around me, and just around me. So much for her husband and kids and her precious practice.

       So much for her 'empathy'.

       Excerpts from her web site read as follows:

       "Stephanie offers individual (child and adult) and family therapy, as well as parent coaching and children’s social skills groups. She also teaches parenting courses and speaks at schools, organizations, and agencies across the US and Canada."

       And then the mumbo jumbo bullshit shit:

       "Raising your children with Empathy

       Empathy is the most important part of being a parent. The truth is, it is the most important part of being human. It is what connects us to one another, what holds relationships together, and what allows us to experience mutual respect and caring. We know that children respond well to empathy from birth, that it is critical for healthy development in general, and, in particular, for the development of a cohesive and organized sense of self. Empathy is an essential parenting tool, and while we do not always feel like being empathic, it is critical in many, many ways to your child's happiness and success.

       Understanding how to use empathy as a parenting tool will enhance and integrate all the techniques you already use and all the knowledge you may already have derived from your own experience, from other parenting books, or from other resources you may have accessed.

       There are many wonderful parenting books and seminars available, most will emphasize how important it is to show empathy and validate your child's feelings. What is not discussed is how to do it. Being empathic is a complex and challenging skill that most parents struggle with. I help parents work on connecting (both verbally and nonverbally) with playfulness, compassion, and acceptance by using many of the skills therapists use in their work with clients. I will teach parents how to use the very specialized skill of 'mirroring', in balance with limit setting as a highly effective and nurturing way to parent children. It is a beautiful gift to your children, it will bring out the best in you and your child."

       Fucking cunt, did she really believe all that crap and shit?

Page 4.

       Well, we'd see soon enough. We'd see how much empathy she had for me and my balls and my great swinging dick.

       She opened the door and greeted me warmly.

       She extended her hand to shake mine, and I took her fine fingers and held them and forced myself not to caress them. It was much, much to soon for any of that sort of thing.

       'I'm Stephanie Kensari and you're Bill.'

       'I am. That I am. Did my wife get here yet?'

       'No. And not a word. Have you heard?'

       'Well yes, sort of. She said if she wasn't here by a quarter after, she didn't think she'd be able to make it, and I should get things started without her and the next time we'd get all caught up together. Does that sound all right?'

       'Well it's not ideal, but it'll have to do since it's after that time now and she's not here.'

       'OK. I hope it is and you're not put out.'

       'No.. No, I'm not I suppose.'

       'No, what is it. Tell me.'

       'You had said you don't have a medical plan that covers this. It often falls under mental health benefits. But you, you're paying for it yourself?

       'Yes. Yes, oh, I see. The single rate or the couples rate?'

       'Well they are different, since with two, there is so much more interaction and analysis.'

       'That's fine. Just consider this as a couples' session then. Besides she still might arrive.'

       She seemed satisfied and ushered me on in through an outer waiting room into her quite spacious office.

       I'd totally snowed her and she sensed no imminent danger.

       Now that that was settled, I could get to my mission at hand.

       Now this was a bitch.

       This was a cunt.

       Smart and strong and born in nineteen-sixty. She was bigger than the victims I usually sought out, but not in a horsy way at all. She was a good five foot ten and I guessed, a hundred and fifty pounds or a bit more. But she was not fat. Not in the least. I guessed, in a fight, she'd probably be able to beat me up and that thought excited me. The fact I sensed she'd be able to overpower me but would never get the chance. Anyhow, she was pretty in an arrogant, self-assured way and was sure she had all the answers. She just didn't know what my fucking perverted questions and requests and demands would be.

       She had an air, thee air.

       She was authority and sincerity.

Page 5.

       She was dressed in a casual pink blouse, unbuttoned at the top and gabardine grey slacks. She was unadorned with jewelry and her shoulder length, blond hair fell over her face. She wasn't extraordinarily beautiful, but she was plenty good looking, and it was her body and intelligence that really got me going. She certainly was pretty, approaching very pretty.

       'You have a nice office here. And this is some old building.'

       'Yes. Thank you. It used to be the old General Electric building where they made the tubes for TVs and radios. Imagine, they actually used those things in the past. My what a long way we've come.'

       'Yeah, it is amazing, in so short a time.'

       I sat in a chair across from her oak desk and rested by case on my knee. I unlatched it and got a bit excited.

       I paused for a moment to assess and reflect.

       The thing was, there I was sitting across from her, knowing I was going to see her pussy and slaughter its contents, its cuntents.

       And she had no fucking idea, yet.

       And there she was sitting across from me and I knew she'd be sucking my cock.

       And she had no fucking idea. yet.

       Now I ask you, how much better does it get than that? How much more delicious and suspenseful. I almost felt sorry for her, but my cock didn't and it ruled me.

       I was ready to start. No need to waste time on any more pleasantries or reflections.

       'So. You're the therapist.'

       She looked at me odd. Like, duhhh, you already know that, which is why you are here, so why are you saying it?

       'The one I saw on TV, on the news.'

       'Well yes, but you were referred by, it says here, Dr. Trant.'

       She was thumbing through a book of some kind.

       'Yeah, but I saw your interview too. Where you talked about empathy and also the growing problem of hyper-active kids and the effects they're having on the school system, the teachers and the parents. The strain they put on available resources. You spoke quite well, I must say, so I'd guess you've done that sort of thing before.'

       'Oh yes, quite often I've been...Where does Trant practice? I can't find the listing for him here..not at the address you said.'

       'Oh.... I.... You know, you looked pretty good during that interview. Like sexy. If I recall, you were dressed the same as now.'

       'Yes, I don't know..About Dr. Trant.'

       She wanted to ignore the sexy part.

       She was smelling a rat already and I was a big fucking one.

       I must have been giving off that hyper-sexual excited air.

       And she knew all about hyper, didn't she?

       'You know it was really nice how they had that long shot of you with the voice over. How you were walking towards the camera, sort of casual but professional with your hair blowing. And then how you spoke so sincerely and directly into the camera like you really knew what you were talking about.'

Page 6.

       'I don't think that's appropriate. We're not here to talk about me, but about the dysfunction in your family, as you outlined.'

       'Oh, I'm sorry. I just thought you were sort of... whatever, sexy, during the whole TV thing.'

       'The family problem, the anger issues, I suppose we should get a general outline of what they are. What you perceive them to be. And what is the trouble with your daughter? She's seven, isn't that what this says?'

       'Yes, Melissa, Missy, she's just turned seven.'

       'And what seems to be the problem?'

       It was time to really let her have it.

       It was time to outrage her.

       I had my hand inside the briefcase with my finger on the gun trigger.

       'Well, I feel so ashamed about this, but Missy's accused me of molesting her.'

       The therapist looked shocked.

       'There was no mention. That's not..there's nothing of that sort.'

       'I know. I was afraid you wouldn't see me if I revealed the true nature of the problems, and judging from your reacton, I was probably right.'

       'Problems? More than such a serious accusation?'

       It was time to seriously outrage her.

       'Well yeah, you see, she saw me fucking one of her little friends in the ass and she tried to stop me so I had to kick her in her cunt, and I....' I didn't even get to finish, she was so outraged.

       'I'm calling security. This session's over and I want you to leave immediately.'

       There was no security at that time of night, but she didn't know I knew that. Besides, it wasn't even much. Just a front lobby, with a receptionist for the various business and to direct visitors accordingly.

       Security was the cops, five minutes away.

       She reached for the phone-set on her desk.

       I pointed my handgun, my pocket twenty-two, right at her forehead.

       'Put it down. Put it fucking down.'

       She hesitated, and just sort of froze, I supposed debating whether or not to obey or ignore my command.

       She was agog.

       But she went to keep on dialing.

       'You think you can get that done before I put a bullet in you?'

       She was still fighting with herself.

       I assumed she'd never had a real gun pointed at her before.

       Probably not even a replica one.

Page 7.

       The thing is, the cunts know, especially the smart and savvy ones, that the moment they give up the slightest bit of their control, that it means they are being controlled. It is a crucial, major line that once crossed often leads to heartbreak and even tragedy. She had a decision to make and it all revolved around if I would use the revolver or not. It revolved around a revolver. How appropriate, I thought.

       'I'll make it easy for you. On the count of three, I'm going to shoot you in the tit, whether you put the phone down or not.'

       She took note of my sexual reference and didn't like it.

       A twinge flashed through her crotch, like of suspicion and an alert.

       Now she looked genuinely afraid and more than shocked and quickly gave up what she knew she should not.

       She crossed the line to my side.

       'One.'

       'No. No. I've put it down. I'm not calling..'

       'Two..'

       'Are you crazy? What do you think you're doing, coming in here and making these kinds of threats.'

       'Three...'

       I pulled the trigger and she cowered in expectation.

       There was a deafening - click.

       'Oh, I forgot, there's no bullet in the first chamber, but there is in the next. Should I try again?'

       'No. No, stop.'

       'One.'

       'Stop it. Just stop it, so we can talk. So I can find out what you want from me.'

       'OK. OK, then you just sit down and shut the fuck up.'

       'Alright, you don't have to swear. I'm co-operating. You can see I am. So stop threatening me. And don't point your gun at me.'

       She was trembling but trying to force herself to look strong.

       Her eyes were pale ice blue and were angry and defiant.

       She took a deep breath and tried to look right through me, like stare me down. I was looking at her heaving chest. Should I, or shouldn't I, try to get a few feels right now, or wait?

       She saw my leering look and turned sideways, in her chair, as if it would obscure her chest a bit. Was she kidding, or delusional? It didn't. She had to be thirty-six C or D so there was no where for her to hide them.

Page 8.

       'Stand up.' I ordered her.

       She didn't move.

       I gave her a wry look, like an or else look.

       'Well you talk a lot, I can see, but I thought you were supposed to listen too. But I can see you don't do it very well.'

       'I, no.. This isn't right.'

       'My gun makes it right, so stand the fuck up, or I'll finish the count and shoot you right through your nipple.'

       The twinge in her crotch confirmed her suspicions.

       There was a sexual element to this matter, sitting across from her with a gun and apparently quite prepared to use it.

       She needed to obey, for now, she figured.

       She needed to force herself to be pragmatic and to use all of her feminine wyles and sexual intelligence.

       She needed to temper my lust, so she thought she could.

       She slowly pushed up from the chair, with her hands on the desk, and tried to stay hunched over behind it, like somehow the desk would hide how well built she was. She knew she had a good figure and took pride in it and did the working out things plus some jogging. She wished her blouse wasn't undone at the top and that her slacks didn't fit her so snugly. And she wished she wasn't so busty.  Too many men failed to look her in the eye when they talked with her, or tried to sneak looks that they thought she didn't notice. She wished her tits weren't so developed, or her nipples getting hard out of fear.

       'Stand up straight.'

       She did, but tried to turn away to the side.

       It didn't fucking matter, her side profile was every bit as sensual.

       'Oh, you don't want to face me? Then turn right around.'

       She liked that idea even less, so straightened right up and pushed her figure boldly into my face, as if to say, so this is what I've got. It's mine and I'm hometown proud of it. I am woman. I am strong. And if you don't like it, that's your problem.

       But I was her unfolding problem.

       'Very nice. Fuck, you're pretty. Just like I saw you on TV only better. Much better in person. And you smell good too.'

       The smell of her fear mixed with her perfume was intoxicating.

       She just tried to glare me down.

       'Well you could thank me for the compliment. It was one, you know. You do know what a sexual compliment is, don't you?'

       'You like talking like that to me. Don't you? It makes you feel powerful and in control.'

       'The gun makes me do that. It's my pecker that likes to talk dirty. Do you want to see it?'

       'So that's what this is about then. You think you're going to assault me?'

Page 9.

       'Well now. I don't know. You know, it's funny. You're the therapist. What if you parse the word?'

       'Uh? What?'

       'Parse it.'

       'I know what parse means, but it doesn't apply.'

       'Sure it does, you dumb cunt, break it down.'

       'Therapist.?'

       'Spell it.'

       'T..h..e..'

       'Stop.'

       'T..h..e.?

       'OK, now finish, like separate.'

       'R..a..p..i..s..t.'

       She gave me the most anguished look.

       'Now isn't that rich, the way it breaks down. The way it runs out.' I gloated it at her.

       'No. No, you're not going to. No. I won't let you. Not here. This is my sanctuary, where I help people.'

       'Well that's decent, so now you'll help me. Open your blouse.'

       She gave me the blankest look.

       I gave her one back and then a smirk and pointed the gun down her body until her crotch was in its sites.

       She took a trembling breath in, like she couldn't believe I'd suggest I'd shoot here there.

       I stared hard, right at how the fabric of her slacks stretched across her hard cunt bone.

       She still fought my command.

       'You want a cunt full of lead...'

       'No. You wouldn't.' she interrupted.

       'Or a cunt full of dick?'

       'Oh God, you're enjoying this so much, aren't you. Making me scared and saying the awful things?'

       'Look bitch, therapy bitch, now don't just open your blouse, take it fucking off.'

       'I'll open it. OK. But not off. I'll do what you said.'

       'You're fucking right you will.'

       Her fingers could hardly manage the five simple buttons and I snickered at the thought of her undoing her slacks.

Page 10.

       The buttons were undone but her blouse wasn't open.

       I could see her white bra at the center, but only about an inch wide of it.

       Now she was doing the same, nothing.

       It was like a stand-off again instead of a clothes-off.

       I stood up myself now.

       I put the gun to my cock.

       'It's either this gun or this gun. Undo your pants at the top.'

       Now she was set to shed her blouse.

       'No stop.'

       'What? What now?'

       'Hold your arms up instead. Right up above your head.'

       She looked at me like I was weird.

       'Up. Up, fucking stick them up, like for a robbery. Stick 'em up.' I joked.

       Slowly she raised them and, of course, it pushed her ample bust out, and revealed more of her bra.

       They were sort of above her head now, at least as far as she was willing to do it.

       'Now reach right for the fucking ceiling. Like you're trying to touch it. Right on you tip toes.'

       She wouldn't.

       Of course, I had the knife too, in my rape kit. An Italian switch with a four inch blade.

       I showed it to her and walked over to intimidate her.

       I flicked it open right in front of her face.

       Funny thing is, good looking women are more afraid of knives than guns. It's the thing about possible disfigurement, at least according to the FBI studies on serial rapists, and I found that to be totally true.

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       She couldn't have stretched any further up if she'd been hanging, suspended from the ceiling by her wrists.

       Now it was OK. Now it was all better.

       I looked right in her defiance.

       I defied her back.

       'Want to try something? I'll slice your fucking face. Go ahead, try it. Maybe I should carve 'cunt' in your cheeks.'

Page 11.

       She didn't know which she felt more, fear or anger, but knew not to retaliate. I could stab her or slice her faster than she could hit me.

       'No, don't cut my face.'

       'Maybe I should carve your other cheeks then.'

       She seemed to pull her ass in tight.

       I parted her blouse with the knife tip.

       The buttons slid past and off her bra cup.

       The other side did the same.

       Fuck, fuck and holy fuck.

       Her nipples had hardened, even more, from the fear.

       'Well, I'll be. I can see what you're thinking. Look down. Look at your tits.'

       Her mouth trembled and her chin quivered and she peered at her cleavage.

       'So? You see it too?'

       She wouldn't answer.

       'You fucking cunt, why are your nipples hard? I haven't even put the knife to them.'

       'No. No don't please. Please.'

       'Fuck, they look like grapes.'

       'Stop it. I'm scared. That's what you want to hear isn't it? That you've made me scared. That's why they're.. they're..'

       For the first time now, I took hold of her.

       I gripped her head at the side and by the back of her neck and pulled her face towards me.

       'You say it, and you use the correct term or I'll cut one off.'

       'That's why they're erect. Because I'm scared.'

       'And not because you're sexually excited then.'

       'No. No, of course not. You know that.'

       'What about down there. That erect too?'

       'You're disgusting and I'm not going to play your little games anymore.'

       I pulled on her hair, at the side, and put the knife to her throat.

       I pulled her head back and she went to lower her arms a bit.

       'Keep 'em up. Up, fucking up.'

       She reached for the stars.

       I put my arm across her front, under her tits and pushed up under them. They were resting on me. I pushed harder up, so that I was starting to slide over them while mashing them to her breastplate.

       I was finally being intimate.

Page 12.   

       She was finally ready to cry.

       And her eyes went misty.

       And her brain was starting to fog.

       She needed to control her mind, and she couldn't.

            She needed to numb her emotions, and she could not.

            "I will not cry. I will not cry. I won't give this bastard the satisfaction. I won't afford him the control. I will not cry. God help me not to. God. God help me. Why?" She said it all in her mind, to herself and to her Saviour, as a splendid, lone tear crept down her cheek, and her proud chin quivered just enough to bertay her, like, so I could see, I was getting to her.

       I released her and stepped right back, away from her.

       She looked down, like ashamed and now just fidgeted.

       'Put your arms down and undo you pants.'

       She went to.

       'And give me your blouse.'

       She took it off straight and put her hand out to offer it to me.

       Her tits were fucking spectacular. She had to be 36D, but  beautifully shaped, like the smaller ones would usually be.

       'Just hold it. Just fucking stop. I have to look at you. I can't fucking believe how well formed you are.'

       She wasn't flattered.

       'I'm telling you. I gotta tell you, if your crotch, if your cunt's anywhere nears as nice, fuck are you in trouble. You're fucking going to wish you were never born with it. Or with them.'

       'I told myself I wouldn't do this. Give you the satisfaction, but I'm begging you. Stop it. Stop it now. You're fueling yourself, your lust and.. I, no. I can't control it then.'

       'You control it? You take control of it?'

       She knew the moment she let it slip out she'd made a mistake.

       'You move. You fucking move and I'll stab you in the belly. Right in your gut. You control it? Control this.'

       'No, no, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. It just slipped out.'

       'Well this just slipped too.'

       I pulled her bra cup out and cut a three inch gash right where it would cover her nipple.

       I let it snap back and her nipple poked out.

       'The next thing you say, that I don't like, and I'll cut that off. I swear it, I will.'

       She looked convinced.

       'Now undo your slacks.'

       He chest jiggled and her nipple bobbed as she trembled and fumbled with the top button.

Page 13.

       'You want me to do it for you?'

       'No, no, I'll be Ok. I'm scared. You've made me scared and humiliated.'

       'Fuck you. I want to do it now.'

       She looked totally resigned.

       'Turn around.'

       'Uh? Why? Please..'

       'Just do as you're told.'

       Slowly her back was to me and I retrieved the handcuffs from my case and was right back to her back. I slid them down the side of her face and went to cuff her first wrist.

       Now she knew to fight.

       Once that was done, her chances diminished dramatically.

       She needed to take drastic action and I knew it.

       But still I didn't pay quite enough attention, I guess because I was getting so horny and jittery at the prospect of seeing into her pussy.

       There was a heavy crystal vase on her desk and she managed to scoop it up and swing it at me in one smooth, fell swoop. She caught me a glancing blow, at my ear, and I cried out in pain and dropped the cuffs and the gun fell from my pants pocket.

       It was the gun, I was more worried about. This was a strong bitch, stronger than me, and by now a motivated bitch, and she sprung fast. She was around to me and grabbed my hair and pulled my head back and punched me in the temple. It wasn't a slap. It was meant to be a killer punch. I know I saw stars. At least that's what the white spots looked like to me, the fucking milky way.

       Somehow, because my life, and my raping career were in danger, I managed to twist away, but the gun had skittered across the floor and she was onto getting it.

       Now she was bolting and then was face down on all fours, crawling that last little bit to retrieve it. Fuck, if I didn't stop her I was a goner. Her fucking ass was right in my view. If ever there was a reason to prevail, there it was with a sphincter in the middle of it. It invigorated me. It galvanized me.

Page 14.

       I jumped up, into the air, and sort of dove, and crashed right on top of her back. She pancaked to the floor and gave a big gasp and groan and swung back, like a mad woman (I suppose she was angry) trying to connect with me. I got my hands under the soft inner parts of her arms and wrenched them way up above her head. I managed to pin her like that to keep her from reaching the last six inches for the gun.

       She was bucking her ass up, trying to throw me off and I managed to get up and grabbed her by one ankle, and dragged her back farther away from the pistol. Now somehow she turned and was facing mostly up and her tits were bouncing wildly. I managed to kick her in the side of a breast and then jammed my foot into her crotch, onto her cunt and I pulled with all my might on her leg.

       She shrieked out, 'Stop it. You're hurting me. Stop it. I'm sorry.'

       I'm sure she was now.

       I pulled harder on her ankle.

       Her labia were mashed                

       Now I raised up and was basically standing on her inner thigh right at her crotch.

       She let up on the struggling.

       It fucking hurt and she was afraid I'd stand full on her cunt.

       I moved forward and ended up standing on her belly and she groaned and gasped.

       I had the gun.

       I got the knife.

       I got the cuffs.

       I sat right down on her tits.

       I bounced up and down, like on a big beach ball.

       I put the knife right to her jugular.

       She went all limp and wimpy.

       'Good try cunt. Good try. But not good enough.'

       I brought her face forward and kissed her.

       It was the first time out lips met.

       She spat at me, into my mouth, to reject my kiss.

       I cut her.

       A little.

       To the side of her jaw.

       And kissed her again.

       This time she let me.

Page 15.

       I slid down onto her tummy and her nipple was poking out of her cut bra cup.

       I ran the tip of the switch blade across it.

       She gasped and mewled.

       'I should fucking cut it off.'

       'No. No, please don't. I'll do anything.'

       'Of course, you will. They all get to that eventually. And you're no different.'

       'There's been others?'

       'Lots and lots. Mind your own business. I'm going to mind it soon. Isn't that right?'

       'If that's what you want. I said I would. I'll co-operate.'

       'Fine, Onto your side.'

       I stood up over her, and then hunched down and cuffed her wrists behind her back.

       What she had fought for, what she had risked her life for, not to have happen, was now a good done deal.

       I turned her back on her back, with her arms pinned behind her. She was fucking uncomfortable, and besides it hurt.

       I stood up and started to undress.

       Just my shirt first.

       I pinched my own nipples hard.

       She looked at me with big eyes.

       I got a hat pin from my brief case and showed it to her.

       I shoved it into my own nipple, right down the center.

       She looked at me with bigger eyes.

       I had another one.

       Her nipple was peeking out her cut bra cup still.

       I aimed the next hat pin for it.

       She bucked up to deflect my aim.

       'The needle or the knife. Your choice.' I said.

       She melted flat to the floor.

            Now she was sobbing proper.

       I placed the tip of the pin to the very center of her nipple and touched ever so lightly.

       She'd never been assaulted like that before.

Page 16.

       She tensed but didn't fight.

       I started to push inward.

       Her nipple sank into the flesh of her tit.

       I kept pushing and her nipple kept sinking.

       It wasn't just the pin disappearing,  it was my fingers which were holding it, sinking out of site too.        

       Finally, her nipple was hard against her breast rib.

       It hadn't been punctured yet.

       That was about to start and she knew it.

       I pressed it and turned it just a bit.

       I could feel the first little jump in.

       She felt it more.

       The skin was punctured.

       But she wasn't hollering.

       What a sensational, monumental moment.

       I was breaking into her through her skin.

       I was breaking in to her body.

       The place was totally deserted still, besides there was a storm outside and it had grown louder and the thunder seemed right over the building's roof by now too.

       Begging, 'don't, don't' loudly, wasn't screaming to me.

       Fuck it.

       And fuck it.

            She needed more.

            She needed worse.

       'You move and I'll stick a knife right though it, right through your nipple and between your ribs into your fucking heart. Got it?'

       She nodded a confused, yes.

       I got right up off her and went to my briefcase.

       I picked out a lucky, four inch, spiral, galvanized finishing nail.

       Now she'd holler.

       I bet.

       Give the thunder a run for its rolling.

       I sat right back on top of her, with it hidden in my closed fist.

       I used my fist to punch her.

       In her nipple.

       The one I'd tried to stick.

       The one I was intent on sticking.

       She looked begging.

       'Wanna see?' I showed her my closed fist.

       She nodded a confused, no.

       'Of course, you don't.'

Page 17.

       I leaned forward and kissed her and whispered in her ear,

       'Fine, it'll be a surprise then.'

       'No. OK. Yes. I need to see.'

       'Yup, I think you do too.'

       I revealed it to her, six inches from her incredulous, disbelieving eyes.

       'You wouldn't. Oh, God no. No. No, you wouldn't. Why? Why? When? When did I ever do anything to you?'

       'When you were born with a cunt, bitch. That's when.'

       She seemed nonplussed.

       'When you were all born with cunts, the arrogant, good looking ones.'

       'But I'm not arrogant.'

       'Yes you are.'

       'No. No I'm not. You don't know me.'

       'But I know your type, you're all alike. Entitled, you think you're entitled and you're only entitled to my cock. Oh, yes I know you and I'm going to, and so much better, deeper, ha ha, that you'd ever have imagined. Deeper, yeah deeper,   just think of cervix and womb.'

       'No, but I'm not.'

       'You see, you can't stop contradicting me, so that makes you arrogant. You think you know better than me.'

       'I never. No, I didn't mean that.'

       'Well I'll show you.'

       I pointed the nail tip right back into her nipple center.

       I pushed it back in down, with a great deal of might, until her bud was pinned to her under rib again.

       'OK. I think that's got it.'

       'You're a monster.'        

       'On the count of three.'

       'You're inhuman.'

       'One...'

       'You're.. You're, how can I stop you?'

       'Two...'

       'How, please tell me? There must be a way.'

       Her nipple begged and her face begged too, for real.

       'By shutting the fuck up, and holding still for this - three.'

Page 18.

       Well talk about puncturing a car tire.

       It was just like that.

       Right in through her rubber bud to let her air out.

       Especially now that she was screaming at the top of her lungs as the thunder clapped right along with me.

       And then she fell silent, right out cold stone unconscious.

       It couldn't have been the physical shock, it wasn't that bad. I hadn't cut it off, or anything like serious. It had to be the promise of more terror, her brain couldn't handle.

       Now I had her all to myself.

       I stood up and gazed down on her.

       I hadn't even gotten to her pussy and her slacks were fully in place except for her top button.

       I pulled her bra up, above both her tits.

       It took some doing, they were so developed and ripe, and it didn't want to stretch that far.

       Her nipple looked fucking fantastic.

       Even better than mine, with the pin still in it.

       The nail was only in about an inch.

       I needed to fix it.

       I kissed her head and then its'.

       I gripped her tit, like a vice hold, and squoze her areola out, hard.

       Now I could twist the nail all the way in.

       I had other plans.

       For her.

       I turned it to the side, inside her milk ducts and all the fat shit and aimed it to come out her skin about an inch from the outer edge of her areola.

       Now I knew where it was headed, clearly.

       But I wanted her awake for it.

       As it came out through her tit skin, from the inside out, Oh yeah, she had to be awake for that.

       I got another of the various sundries, from my brief case.

       The smelling salts.

       She was back in the land of the living (at least temporarily) within maybe ten seconds.

       She wished she wasn't.

       And I wasn't sure if that was awake or alive.

Page 19. 

       'Oh, God. Why? Why would you want to hurt me like that. Hurt my beautiful breast like that. It's for nurturing, for giving life. It fed my babies.'

       'Empathy? Empathy?' I joked and asked.

       'Exactly, yes. Yes, you see, you do know.'

       'Well you have some empathy then for my nipple. See how it looks.'

       'But you did it to yourself.'

       'No. No, you made me do it.'

       'No. No, how? Don't blame me for your perversion, your masochism.'

       'Ah, the m.'

       'What?'

       'The m. what's the other letter?'

       'Uh? What?'

       Don't play dumb, you dumb cunt bitch, come on, dot, and m.'

       'Oh. No. no, no, no,' She just kept repeating it and shaking her deeply terrified mind from side to side.

       'Say it. I want to hear you say it.'

       'I can't. It's too horrible. You're not that. No you can't be. No. Oh, God help me. There's so very few of real ones of those. Why me? Oh God, why?'

       'You got it, babe.'

       'No, it can't be.'

       'And I got you, babe. I just love that song.'

       She was pretty well like in a trance, at that moment.

       Like almost unconscious.

       I suppose it was the moment of the real realization of how dire her predicament truly was. She'd always thought she could talk her way out of any negative circumstance, even if it was dangerous or confrontational, even if it was sexual.

       But a sadist.

       A for real one.

       The deal real.

       They're so rare and unpredictable and untreatable, like a genuine psychopath. But this was a sexual psychopath.

       There are no worse words for a beautiful woman to hear.

       Not when she's being confronted and threatened and held by one.

       So that's when she knew she was truly and royally fucked and a whole lot more.

Page 20.

       Even though technically she wasn't unconscious, I gave her the salts again, to snap her into splendid awareness.

       It worked like a charm.

       She looked right down to her breast, where I was working my magic, making the nail disappear, so she thought.

       Then she could see I intended to push it out from inside her.

       'No. No. Yes, I know now you're a sadist, but this is terrible. No you can't. How can you justify this in your mind?'

       'In my head?' I joked.

       'Yes. Yes, like I said.'

       'Well look at my head. See how he is.'

       I stripped off the rest of my clothes and my boner was straighter than her line of vision to look at it.

       'There. See. That's where my sadist mind lives. So I guess you might say, you're fucked.'

       'You're insane.'

       I ignored her true comment.

       'Well not yet', I continued.'but you're going to be fucked.'

       'Then just do it. Just rape me. But don't hurt me like this.'

       'You ever had it in your ass? I bet you'd like it like that.'

       'I can't think. I can't feel. Oh, God help me.'

       'You can't feel? Well I'll bet you feel this.'

       I twisted the nail right out the side of her tit and pushed until it was sticking out a good, full, mile long inch.

       She shrieked but stayed awake.

       I patted it and let go and stood back proud to see my artistry.

       Artistry in her flesh.

       She jiggled there sobbing.

       I needed to regroup from the violence she'd incited in me.

       'OK. OK, I think you've had enough for now.'

       She looked at me timid and distrustful.

       'Here, let me help you up, back onto your chair.'

       I gripped onto her fleshy arms, right under her pits and sort of dragged her to her wobbly feet. Her legs were like rubber and I knew that wasn't all of her that was like that.

       Engorged clits are all like rubber.

       I figured that was my next order of business.

       On the menu, you might say.

Page 21.

       She flopped into the chair and just sank there desolate.

       I went to her softly and stroked her tear soaked face softly too. It seemed like I was done with the shoving and pushing her around. She had no idea soon she'd be going in circles or even in squares.

       'Fuck, that was intense, don't you think?'

       'You're a madman.'

       'No. I'm not mad at you.'

       'You're an insane man, if calling you a man applies at all.'

       'Oh, I think it does.' I gloated as I waved my boner knob right in front of her sensibilities.

       'That doesn't make you a man.'

       'But you see, that's your problem.'

       'What? What now?'

       'You just don't get it.'

       'What's there to get, when you're dealing with raving insanity?'

       'But you just don't get what your biggest problem is and I haven't even gotten to it yet.'

       She felt she was being led, but didn't know where the conversation was going.

       'Ok, so tell me. That's what you obviously want to do. To have me say, what's my biggest problem?'

       'Well you see, what it is....give me the envelope please.'

       'You're stupid as well.' She spat it at my ego.

       (You'd think with her superior knowledge and education and all that, she'd have known better. Just a dumb, arrogant, full of her own beauty, and self-assuredness, and successes, dumb, dumb, dumb cunt bitch.)

       'And the winner is..' I continued, 'What you've got there.'

       I pointed to her groin.

       'What you've got between your legs. That's your biggest problem.'

       She made the obtuse connection and knew it was bad.

       'So we'll have to do something about that, won't we? To fix your problem.'

       She looked terrified, for the first time, and more destitute, like she was alone in the whole wide world and deserted.

       By her God.

       'So stand up.'

       She shook her head side to side.

       'Lets see what I'm going to fix.'

Page 22.

       Now, she fully understood, to the depth of her womanhood, that if I got my sadism going at her, into her vagina, she probably wouldn't get out of it alive. She had to, it was absolutely imperative, that she collect herself and draw on every ounce of her inner strength. (especially the strength inside her cunt) to deflect my greedy intentions. She had to use every pound of her professional experience and education. Some called her scary-smart. Now she'd have to prove it - to herself.

       'Stand the fuck up.'

       'Listen to me. Please just listen.' Her voice had gone all soft and reasonable, like super sincere, and therapeutic and manipulative. She still could out reason me, so she hoped. She knew about anger management and needed to manage my anger. But I seemed so calm and at peace with my actions.

       'I'll listen, but only if you're standing. And standing in your underwear.'

       That wasn't good.

       For her.

       How could she reason with me, about her cunt, if her crotch, and pale blue silk transparent panties were right there before my eager eyes calling out to me instead?

       Which voice would I hear?

       And men are visual.

       They see with their cocks, the one huge eye.

       'I'll stand up....' and she did slowly rising.

       Her fly zipper was half way down by now.

       'But I don't want to. You're too inflamed right now. You need to calm down to listen to my reason.'

       Fuck were her hips fantastic.

       I wanted to trip the hips fantastic.

       'Do as you please, but I won't listen until they're off.'

       She sensed another opportunity to try to fight. She could see I was obsessed and practically overwhelmed by her hips' beauty and the prospects of how she was going to look (and feel). My eyes were glassy and my boner throbbing, so it just might impair my senses, again she only hoped it.

       'OK. OK, but I can't get them off with my hands like this.'

Page 23.

       She showed me her cuffed wrists behind her back, as if I didn't know they were that way.

       Did she think I was stupid?

       That I didn't know she'd fight again, the first chance she got?

       'Yeah. Yes, I suppose you're right.' I agreed.

       She sniffled to make herself seem less dangerous, like more harmless and defeated, like a possum.

       Those kinds of bitches are never defeated until they're dead. They're always plotting and they never think they won't win, especially when it comes to bettering a man, whose trying to take charge of them. She thought I was still trying. The rage was infused in her bones, against all rapists, even the benign ones and especially the chauvinistic ones.

       I knew it, but she didn't know how much I knew about her kind.

       Don't get me started on her kind.

       The fucking power bitches. The invincible, good looking ones with the killer bodies and attitudes to match. It seemed to start with their chins and the way they shoved them out, when they wanted to make a strong point. Like they thrust them out to hit somebody with. They were always making mouthy strong points. And then there is their mouth. The square set, flash of teeth that says, I'm aggressive. I'll bite you, if you cross me, and when it came to men what they really meant was, I'll bite your fucking balls off, and of course, they always meant the weiner too, and I'll eat it. I'll have it for a snack, but not before I pulverize it first with my foot or a hammer. They just pulled their mouths a certain way, and pushed their chins up, when they wanted to show their superiority.

       (But I had the hammer.)

       Now to their bodies and how they use them. And how they dressed them. They love to show tit, but usually through their suggestive clothing to tease cocks and inflame them, but not to let themselves be available, to the average guy. They're too good, and too good looking for anyone but the executive types. The little guy can only dream and wet dream and fantasize.

       About raping them.

       That's what they didn't get. They fucking asked for it and sure, the victims were to blame. All they had to do was get down off their high horses and show a little humility, a little subservience to men. But that was too much to ask, until a gun barrel was shoved up their vaginas, and then they got the message.        

       Stiff cocks good.

       Pretty cunts pretty bad.

       That they were the 'garbage in'.

       And I got the 'garbage out'.

       

Page 24.

       Before my tirade, I was supposed to unlock the cuffs.

       'I'll get the key.'

       I came back from my case with it, and about a seven foot length of fairly fine, but exceedingly strong, white, twisted nylon cord. You couldn't break it with your hands. Nobody could.

       She certainly wouldn't be able to, no matter how hard she pulled.

       I'd selected a clothes line adjustor too.

       I laid the key down on the desk and faced her with the cord.

       'What? What are you doing? What's that for? You're going to take the handcuffs off my wrist but tie me up. What good'll that do?'

       I put my hand softly to her cheek and leaned over to kiss her.

       I really pitied her now.

       She tried to kiss me back.

       Like she could delay whatever it was I was up to.

       She looked hopeful and even a bit timid.

       'Uhmm. Not bad. Not bad at all.'

       Her lips were trembling but she held her face up forward to offer me another one. Like a peace offering. An offering for a piece of her.

       I took another and another, increasing my lip movement a little each time. My boner was just about touching her jugs. Which hung like a cow's jug.

       I took her face between my two hands and tenderly tongued her lips. She sent her tongue out to meet mine. Fuck, she could actually kiss fantastic, considering her dire situation and direr unfolding circumstances.

       I let my hand drift down to her nipple that wasn't damaged.

       She got harder than a marble.

       I pinched and expressed her and small drops of the sticky white milky fluid popped out of two of her ducts.

       She figured she was distracting me from her cunt.

       Not in the least was she.

       I pretended we were going to embrace and pulled her up straight, hugging her naked tits to my bare chest. My boner bashed her crotch.

       'Fuck. Fuck does that ever feel good. I'll bet that tastes good too.'

       I swilled and suckled the slop off her nipple.

Page 25.

       And ran my two hands down her belly to the top of her waist and went to go further down on her.

       She recoiled right back.

       'No. Not ready yet?'

       She shook her mind again.

       'Yeah, you're trying. I can see that. Even feel it, but you're scared.'

       'Please take the handcuffs off, so we...So I...'

       (So you can overpower me and bash my balls in and yank my dick off.)

       'Oh, yeah, I forgot.'

       I picked up the thin nylon cord again and went to her spiked nipple.

       'What. What in God's...'

       'Hold still, or I'll fucking cut it off.

       She thought I meant her nipple.

       'I'll cut your cunt off.'

       She had no idea what to do, so did nothing.

       I carefully threaded the cord around the nail head, being sure it was caught good and secure under it, and then I fed it around and under the part sticking out of her tit. I started to pull it tight and she could feel she wouldn't be able to get free of it. I pulled tighter and she started to wail. Now I gave it the full strength pull and tied the first half of a reef knot. Her nipple was all bunched up in the knot and the nail pulled tight to the hole it made through her. I gave one extra tug and completed the knot. I was a good boy scout and had never forgotten the reefer.

       I let go of the arrangement and there she stood in all her female glory with a seven foot nylon cord hanging from her tortured tit and nipple. I picked up the loose end and gave it a light tug. It pulled her nipple out straight towards me and, of course, her tit came with it too. I pulled harder and she had to step forward. It hurt too fucking much not to.

       I pulled harder and she had to come more forward, leaning over her desk, to ease the pain filled pressure.

       I could have pulled her right over her desk, onto the floor, just by her nipple.

       Continued in folder two.