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Smashing Perfection.
Page 1.
I took her there under duress.
Since I supposed, at gunpoint was under duress.
And was pretty sure the cops would see it that way.
She was utterly shocked and speechless, as I pressed the barrel to her temple, as she got into her car, in the underground parking garage of her condo building. But she was smart enough not to resist, and quietly slid over to the passenger's side, and crouched down into the floor space, as best she could, as I drove her in her own car to my hideaway.
I looked down often on her slender shoulders, and bare arms and remembered how her breasts had looked the first time I'd seen her at the one day event, Designer Fashion Bazaar, in her silky, one piece, fitted fashionable dress. I'd seen the outlines of her bra under it then, with her nipples poking through, just a bit, and I could see it under her silky blouse as she bent down forward while being kidnapped.
She'd stood out from the others, for her elegance and beauty, and the gracefulness of her body and movements. Just standing still, she was fluid and enchanting. I wanted to shove my hand right between her legs, hard into her crotch, but only managed to brush close to her, trying to get out of a fairly crowded display booth she was in.
I couldn't help myself.
I groaned right into my crotch.
She even asked me, 'Is everything OK? Are you all right?'
She thought I might be having a heart attack when I was having a cock attack.
She was so nice and genuinely concerned.
She was a fucking princess.
I don't think she ever picked up on that I was raping her in my mind and that her tits belonged to me from that moment on.
'Thanks for your concern. Indigestion. Yes, I'm alright.' I answered her softly. (But you won't be. Not for fucking long will you be. If she could have read my lust, she would have called the cunt cops, to have me detained, and put away for life and out of her life forever before it even started.)
She was being watch fucked and I managed to do it for almost two hours as she trotted in and out of booths. If I didn't look guilty, I might have looked suspicious, but then again I was pretty good at masking it and hid behind reading a tabloid newspaper, and building pillars and even made like an employee of the center for awhile, dawning a cap and blazer (which were carelessly laying about) and acting official.
There were numerous clothing vendors of used designer items, a Dior dress, 'straight from the runway', regular twenty-one hundred dollars for three hundred. What the fuck makes a dress worth that kind of money new, unless it's the cunt that's in it? And Chanel, coral silk pleated blouses, regular eight hundred bucks for two-fifty. Eight hundred dollars. Four hundred a tit. I'd say that was a bargain. Her tits were worth at least four thousand a piece, to me. In fact they were priceless and her cunt was worth even more.
Page 2.
She'd pick out an item and hold it up to herself and tug it to her bust and I'd punch her in it, for my watch fuck.
She'd lay slacks along her long legs and push her knee out a certain way to check for the hem length, and for that, I ass watch fucked her.
One time she bend right down, to touch her toes, as she did up a pair of ankle strap high heels, and I watch fucked her ass with a pipe and a base ball bat. I even pictured cleaning up all the shit that spilled out of her ruptured sphincter, and her screams of, 'What do you want? This is an outrage. This is impossible'. Anything was sexually possible for me, and I fully intended she find that out first person, in the live and breathing flesh, so to say.
I was sure I could at least get a bat into her cunt, maybe just the handle end, but that would do just fine. I could always slug her with the business end, maybe even in her business, smashing her cunt bone in two. A piece for each labia majora.
She was a battered and sorry sight at the end of my fantasy fucks and she didn't even know it, or have a hair on her beautiful cunt out of place, I'd bet.
It would take several weeks of inquiring, planning and stalking, but her nipples would belong to me also.
She begged a bit, along the way, about why was I doing it, but mostly complained about having to go to the bathroom and that she was getting muscle cramps from being scrunched up for so long a ride. It took two and a half hours to arrive and I wasn't sure there was going to be enough gas in her tank for us to get there. We must have been running on fumes as I pulled into my attached garage and closed the remote controlled door safely behind us.
She was unsafely on the wrong side of it.
Relieved, I shut off her car and pocketed her keys.
'OK. You can sit up now, on the seat. Here let me help you.'
I went to take hold of her arm, to pull her up, and she jerked it close into herself.
'Don't touch me. I can manage by myself.'
Page 3.
She would fight. I'd thought she would. She looked the part, right from the start. Not in a maniacal way, but in an intelligent, determined and resolved way. She would protect her feminine aspects.
Perfect, just fucking perfect for fucking.
And she was over the top, overall, perfect too.
Five foot ten, maybe a hundred and thirty pounds and an exquisite figure, at least exactly to my tastes. Maybe 34b at the tits, a really slender waist and excellent solid hips. Her ass just begged to be fucked, and I'd followed it around for quite awhile, at the bazaar, like a little puppy dog in heat, and was afraid I might become too obvious. I'd even gotten one really good cell phone camera photo of her which kept my fires burning as I worked out the details of how she would become my sex prisoner.
Her face was gorgeous and her shoulder length hair, sandy colored and in lovely, fetching curls all over. She was a fucking beauty and many others noticed her too, but she didn't seem to take note that they did. I wouldn't say she was arrogant, probably just the opposite. Humble about her good looks and just intent on living her life, in a wholesome manner, and minding her own business. The thing being, you couldn't look as good as she did and not attract some pervert's attentions. She just got really unlucky that she caught mine, since I was one of the few who never, ever let them live, no matter how much they begged and wheedled, or tried to make their cases about being a human being and that somewhere, down deep, I must be one too. That I must have an ounce of compassion. All my sympathy lived in my dick's head, so she (and they) were sort of beat from the start.
Try talking to a dick head and see how far you get.
'Don't touch me.' She said again with a little more insistence.
I ignored her order and gripped my fingers into the soft fleshy part of her upper arm. I pulled her up as she struggled up, since her joints were so stiff, and I could see the side profile of her tit and a slight bump where her nipple would be. I was ready to wrest her into the back seat and get to her pussy right off, but it was just a flash-in-the-crotch urge. No need to rush anything. In fact, every and all needs, to really draw it out. I didn't want her to know, how badly I was going to rape her, for the longest time possible. I didn't even want her to know, how softly I'd rape her, to begin with, for a awhile. At least a couple of hours would do for that surprise.
Page 4.
I wanted to finesse her into agreeing to have sex with me, and I knew it was something she'd never agree to. At least, at the start, she'd start out believing that way.
But still it was my goal and I wanted her to ask for it.
She asked for it, just by looking how she did, but I wanted her to say it also. 'Rape me. Rape me. Oh, please rape me.'
'I told you not to touch me. So please don't any more.'
'I could see you were stiff and I was just helping out. So be nice and don't be so disagreeable.'
'Me be disagreeable. You've kidnapped me at gunpoint and brought me to God knows where, and you say I'm being disagreeable. Get real. Are you for real?'
'This gun's for real and that's all you have to remember.'
I pointed it right to her temple, for the second time, and looked like I was going to squeeze the trigger.
I looked dead in her eyes, like she was about to become dead.
'No. No, don't. That could go off.'
'I suppose you're right. That's what guns do. They go off, with a bang. Sometimes by accident. And sometimes on purpose.'
'What do you want with me? Why have you brought me here?'
I ignored her suspicions.
'Right now, we need to talk. What's your name?'
She wouldn't say and just looked at me like it was none of my (fucking) business. I didn't take her for the kind to swear, so she just gave me more of an arched, annoyed look, somewhat under her eyebrows.
'Never mind then, I'm sure if I go through your purse, I'll find it on your driver's license, or whatever.'
I went to reach for it beside her on the seat and she grabbed it to her.
'Jennifer. My name's Jennifer, if you must know.'
'Jenny for short. Is that OK?'
She nodded yes.
'So Jenny, I'm really pleased to meet you, my name's James, Jim'll do.'
I extended my hand for a hand shake and she surprised me, she extended hers back, and let me greet her fingers with mine. Her grip was soft and afraid, but I think she felt she was establishing a rapport with me, and that that would be important for her to do. She was a negotiator and a diplomat and she thought she was skilled.
Page 5.
'We have to go inside.'
'No I don't want to until you tell me why I'm here.'
'I can't do that right now.'
'But you know. You have to know, so tell me, why am I here?'
'Jenny, you're not listening very well, and you need to. I can see you're a smart woman. You're not only a beautiful woman, you're a smart looking woman, so you do need to pay attention. Do you think you can do that?'
'Don't talk to me like I'm a child. Don't talk down to me. I know how to listen, if that's what you mean. I'm not stupid.'
'As long as you know how to listen, and to hear. There is a difference, you know.'
'Yes, I know, but I don't know what you're getting at.'
'What I'm getting at is, that if you listen and pay attention, if you hear what I'm saying, you won't get hurt. Nobody's going to hurt you.'
'Are there others here besides you?'
I didn't expect her to take it that way, so literally. By others, I meant myself, but she took it to be more than me. That was OK, I could let her think that, so she could falsely believe there was some hope of rescue available from the 'them' that didn't exist.
'I said nobody's going to hurt you and that's what I meant. Stop trying to pry. And stop getting ahead of yourself, like leading the situation.'
She saw, I saw through her pretty fast and it disturbed her that I might be pretty bright myself. I'd found out after the bazaar, she was a par-legal and had her own business. She went about quietly being the boss and was plenty successful which, in part, was why she was so well turned out. All her clothes were expensive and designer, and her underwear from specialty shops, and she smelled so fucking good, and it wasn't from cheap perfume. And she was cleaner than a baby's fresh scrubbed bum and immaculately presented herself. Her voice was soft and soothing and her grammar precise and correct.
You would say she was an educated, sophisticated, somewhat spoiled and pampered lady.
Page 6.
I wondered if she fucked precisely and correctly too.
And how her pampered pussy would rupture and spill.
My educated guess was that she would fuck precisely and spill splendidly.
God my cock wanted to know, and I gloated within, and it made me all warm and fuzzy and giddy inside, knowing that I would most definitely be finding out. She didn't have one fucking clue and I had a hundred of them, that my cock would be exploring and finding its way into her privacy, which she valued so much.
'I just want to know why I'm here. That you're not going to hurt me, and I want to inform you, I'll take you at your word, and I'll hold you to your word, that you won't do that, that you won't hurt me or lay a hand on me again. So why have you kidnapped me and brought me here? And where is here? Where am I? We drove forever, so we must a long way away from the city.'
'You're safe where you are. That's all you have to know.'
'Well I don't feel safe. That's what you have to know too. You've scared me and I'm still scared and I have to go to the bathroom.'
'OK. That's fine. I don't want you making a mess of your..
The bathroom's inside and upstairs so you'll have to come along with me inside then.'
Two things bothered her about my ostensibly agreeable answer. One, 'a mess of your', what? What was I going to refer to, and why didn't I say it? (The car seat? Panties? Cunt?) And two, she had no choice but to go inside to God know's what. What lay beyond the closed door painted green?
But she really had to go, so agreed.
'Alright, I'll go inside with you, but then I want to come back out to the car.'
'Just get to the bathroom before you wet yourself.'
She didn't like my mildly crude reference but could see she had no choice but to comply.
I got out of my side of her car and pointed the gun across the roof top towards her side.
'OK, you can get out now, but no funny stuff. Like I said before, this gun could go off accidently or on purpose. If I think you're trying to run, or you start screaming, I may have an accident on purpose.'
(I wanted her to think there was some hope, or some possible positive result, if she screamed, when, for truth, she could wake the dead, and no one living would hear. We were that far away from civilization and remotely isolated. It just was fun to toy with her spirit that way and build her hope up falsely.)
Page 7.
She slowly got out of the car, making sure I could see she was being careful, and finally stood upright, like full standing. Well holy fuck and shit, God did I know for certain, I'd made the perfect choice. She was the perfect sexual fucking fuck storm.
Her blouse was silk ecru and semi-transparent, like translucent and her bra underneath did little to hide what she had. And what she had was exceedingly perfect. It put perfection to shame. Her fear had erected her nipples and she was quite conscious of them. I gulped and blubbered inside but tried, like stink, not to show it. If she read my sexual intentions into why she was there, she might take a bullet rather than let me get the chance to get to her good bits. I sensed she would fight, if she had any real chance, rather than let any sex stuff even get started.
I stopped jerking off in my mind, and got back to the task at hand. The problem was, as she walked around the back of her car to approach me, now her fucking cunt was outlined by the V in the crotch of her designer, pin-stripped, light beige, raw-silk slacks. They fucking fit her like a glove and I wanted to get my mitts into them.
Now I was gulping and blubbering on the outside and I had to turn away. I tried to mask it by coughing and bent over and away slightly from her.
As I took the gun off her, just for a moment, I sensed she was going to come for me, to make a try and a grab for it.
As she started to bolt for me, I swung back to face her and the gun barrel ended up right at the end of her tit. It was more by accident, on my part, but she wasn't sure and froze and cried out. 'No. No, don't. What are you doing? I was just coming to follow you inside.'
I so wanted to poke the barrel into her nipple but managed to restrain myself and replied, 'I don't know. It didn't feel that way. I hope you're telling me the truth. One thing you don't want to do is lie to me and get me upset. I don't like women who lie at all. Even beautiful ones.'
I especially hated, with a vengeance, the lookers who lied.
They lied and died. That's what it came down to, for me.
Page 8.
She'd seen my look and knew it well. She'd seen it often from other men, but never in a situation anything like this. It was the last place she wanted to be looked at like that. And knew she'd lost a chance, her chance, and worried what ramifications might be attached to that now.
'OK, then we're good. Let's get on inside.'
I walked far enough behind her that she couldn't make another sudden try and God did her ass blur my vision. It was all that my hungry eyes could see. She had to go up a short flight of stairs, into the kitchen, so I was looking up into her bum crack from three feet down. My cock almost reached it from there. She swayed as she climbed and my cock wiggled right along with her every sway. We moved to the stairs, going up to the toilet, and went up and then along the hall and to the door to the bathroom. She went on in fast and tried to close the door.
'Uh. Uh. No, you have to leave it open.'
'I will not. No way. No way I'm going to the bathroom with you watching.'
I was finally ready to start alluding to my sex motives.
'Who said anything about watching? But I will if you want.'
She was fully into the bathroom and standing before the shitter with her back to it now. The seat was down. I never left the ring exposed. Women hated that, and for some reason I didn't cotton to it either. It had something to do with being civilized, in our everyday lives, I supposed.
She gave me her first refined fierce look.
I was getting to her cunt.
I was being crude.
'Stop it. You're being dirty and uncouth. You're being..'
'A pig?' I ended her thought for her.
She didn't want any talk about things being dirty, about things being off color, like off-colored jokes in a church or at a funeral, or in the presence of the Queen of England. She was a bit of a princess, in her own mind, puritanical, I suppose, and those kinds of things weren't to be tolerated in her presence. I wondered what she did, in her own presence as she jerked-off. Self-pleasured herself, as the feminist jerk-off experts referred to it as.
God I hated the loud mouthed feminist bitches. Most of them were ugly and horsy and mannish, and they all had short hair, so it was the good looking ones who really got my cock's ire way up.
Like a ten foot, or at least a ten inch, erection.
'Please close the door. I really have to go.'
'I don't completely trust you Jenny.'
'Well you can. You have to.'
'I think you already lied to me.'
'No. No. Not. When?
'Back there, at the car, when I coughed and took the gun off you for a moment, I think you were going to try to grab it. And what would you have done if you'd succeeded?'
Page 9.
'I.. I..' She stuttered slightly. Something told her to fess up. She felt it might be a turning point, and if she was ever going to get me to turn her loose, now wasn't the time to compound a lie I sensed she had told.
'I. I'm sorry. Yes. I'm really afraid. I really am. I may not be showing it, but I'm almost terrified. Think about it. Please. Please, put yourself in my place. What I've been through and what you've put me through. I don't know who you are. I don't know where I am. And you've got the gun and pointed it at me and even said you might shoot me, either accidently or on purpose, so yes, I'm afraid and felt I had to try something to see if I could get free.'
She inhaled a deep breath of courage, and continued.
'I want to be free, and if you'd just let me go, then I wouldn't say anything to anyone. I wouldn't go to the police or anything. You haven't hurt me or anything, and you've given me your word that you won't, and I told you I'm going to hold you to that word, so please, just let me go free, and we can both forget this has ever happened. Please. Please, I just have to go now. Please let me use the bathroom in privacy. Oh please.'
'Well I must say, you've made your case most convincingly, but that's what you do then, isn't it? Being a paralegal and all?'
She was shocked.
'How? How do you know that? How do you know what I do?'
'Oh, I know quite a lot about you.'
'No. No you tell me. What's this really about? I thought it might be an accident, it might be random. But it's not an accident at all, not if you know who I am, and what I do.'
'Jenny. Shut up. Shut the fuck up.'
I gave her that knowing look that said, so there, I've just used the F word on you.
And she didn't want me saying anything about fuck in her presence.
Her chin quivered the slightest bit and she knew again to back down. Discretion was the better part of her valor and she needed to derail the subject.
'Just shut the...'
'OK. I was. Please..'
'Jenny?' I said threateningly.
Page 10.
She was just a little more scared now. She felt she was being manipulated, perhaps by a master. She seemed to be getting pushed, or drawn closer and closer to the matter of how good she looked and the sexual stuff that went along with her.
'I'm sorry. I should be quiet. I should shut up.'
'Good. You do listen and hear then.'
'Please I just have to go or I'm going to pee myself. I'm even more nervous.'
'Jenny, you've already betrayed my trust. I wish you hadn't, because it's not something you can take back, like a first impression. By the way, what's your first impression of me?'
'I don't know. You seem like you can be reasonable and you don't seem violent, at least not beyond the gun, so I just don't know.'
How could a cunt be so wrong or hopeful? If she'd seen my array of torture devices, she would have fucking shit her brains out and corrected her misconceptions about me in a hot flash.
'Oh, Oh, please I really have to go now.'
'You've betrayed my trust, so you have to put these on. That way I won't have to worry about you doing it again.'
I handed her a pair of opened hand-cuffs.
Her face was a marvel.
Of female anxiety.
Like, how could I possible be serious?
'For God's sake, no. No, I'm not. Because, because you say. You have the gun. There's no way. There's no need. I promise I won't go to try anything again. Beside all you have to do is stay far enough away or keep alert enough and it can't happen again.'
'Stay far away?'
She didn't like the question, where it could lead.
'Stay alert, but I promise I won't try anyway, so you don't have to worry.'
'But right now you do. You have to put them on.'
I held them out to her.
'Take them. You can see how they work. Take them.'
She couldn't force herself to.
All of a sudden her chest started to jiggle, as she began to sob inside. There were no tears yet, just tit jiggling internal sobs.
That was the last fucking thing she wanted to be doing in front of me then.
And her face started to twist up on her fears.
Which made even more lovely.
Page 11.
'Jenny, put them on. Don't make this any harder than it has to be. You don't want to do that. I promise you, you don't.'
'Why? Because you'll hurt me then? That's a threat. You're making a threat to hurt me?'
'That's what guns do when they go off, isn't it?'
I pointed it right at her beautiful, pained face and then slowly lowered it to point right at her right tit. She didn't have a wrong tit, so it didn't matter which one I took a bead on and she knew I could see both of her bulls-eyes. They were full sticking out terrified erect, but I'd still have had trouble hitting one dead center since they were shaking so much now. And she pretty well knew also, sex was somewhere in the mix now. She could smell my eagerness.
She forced herself, with all her might, and ever so slowly got her wrist into the first side of the cuffs. She had a pleading, sweet look about her face and her eyes begged for relief, for reconsideration or even just some consideration.
She could see I was adamant, as I played the gun up and down her body, and even let it point right at her cunt for a few seconds.
That was a major turn-off for her, and she turned her labia away from my aim. She knew I knew why she'd turned.
I gave her a knowing, well-satisfied, smug look.
She did the second of her wrists, and went all quiet and strong, all of a sudden. She would suck up her resolve.
'OK. You win. I've done what you ask. So now you don't have to worry. Let me go to the bathroom.'
'Put your wrists out.'
'No. Why?'
'Just put them out, I want to check that they're done up properly and that they're not too loose.'
She tentatively did as I instructed, and I took hold of her arms just above the cuffs. Her bones were thin and her skin ever so perfect and soft and she pulled slightly back.
As I checked the cuffs, I reminded her, 'Jenny, remember your words, "beside all you have to do is stay far enough away and it can't happen again." And I asked you, "Stay far away?"'
She sort of nodded, not having any idea what I was getting at.
'Do you?'
'Uh. Uh. Yes I think so. But so, so what?'
'What do you think I meant by "Stay far away?" I said it as a question.' I reminded her.
Page 12.
'Jim, James. Please. I don't have a clue what you're talking about. I don't know what you're alluding to or what you're getting at. For God's sake. What do you want from me?'
'What I'm talking about, and what I want from you, is if I stayed far away, how could I touch you. I wouldn't be able to touch you then, would I?'
This had no where good to go, and she bloody well knew it.
She scrunched up her face and clenched her resolve into her jaw (not to cry full blown) and replied, 'But you said. You promised you wouldn't. You said you wouldn't touch me. Please don't. You promised.'
'I promised I wouldn't hurt you. Touching you doesn't have to be the same thing as hurting you. I mean it can be made to be the same thing, but it doesn't have to be.'
There was that terrible, alluded to inclusion of violence to her person, included in my speech and it gutted her resolve.
'I'm going to cry, if you don't stop it. If you don't stop toying with me. That's what you're doing, isn't it? You're trying to play with my head and my mind.'
'Jenny. I'm doing no such thing. You have yourself to blame for lying to me.'
'Yes, I said I shouldn't have. But what am I supposed to do to take it back? How can I make it better or fix it?'
'So that's just my point. I can't stay away and touch you at the same time, now can I? Touch you like I'm holding onto your wrists right now, could I?'
'Stop tormenting me and say what you're itching to say. You're getting to something, so just spit it out.'
'Very observant of you. So yeah, your right. Very intuitive. So here's the deal. My big question to you is, how do I take your slacks down, and your panties down, so you can pee, if I don't touch you. If I had to stay far enough away so you couldn't try something?'
She was floored.
It was the last thing she'd ever expected to hear.
Actually that wasn't even true. She'd never, ever envisioned, in the slightest, being confronted with such a vile suggestion and yet the suggester was right before her standing erect with a growing erection.
She had absolutely no idea what to say next.
Her knees sort of buckled and she slid down slowly, but ended up just sitting on top of the closed toilet seat lid.
Page 13.
She hunched her sweet chest forward and sobbed ever so lightly.
I put my hand gently to her shoulder and she jerked her face up to show me her tears. Her eyes were so deep with sorrow for the loss of the hope she'd held onto up until that terrible trust- shattering, line-crossing moment.
'Please. Please say you were just frightening me. That you were just, oh, I don't know why you'd do it, but that you were just tormenting me. Trying to make me feel unsafe and afraid. Oh, God, tell me you were just kidding - me.'
'Jenny,' I reached down and put my hand softly to her angelic, pained face, 'Do I sound like I'm kidding?'
She gave me 'the not wanting to acknowledge' look.
'Do I look like I'm kidding?'
She just couldn't face it, but had no choice.
Now I was starting to handle her.
To man handle her.
To pervert handle her.
I took hold of her hair by the side, and drew her up to stand before me. She resisted a bit, but as I started to pull harder, she winced and came up. We were face to face, not a foot apart.
Her inviting nipples were only eight inches from mine.
Mine were hard too.
God she smelled good.
The smell of her fear mixed with her tears and perfume was a flame to my cock. It was pure inflammation in my balls. Inflammation of the scrotum, now there was an ideal sexual sadist's condition. No medicinal or doctor's cure for that. Just a cock in a cunt. That's what it'd take.
I peered deep into her eyes, to the back of her fear and suggested, 'It'd be OK if I kissed you, wouldn't it?'
She was sort of sexually paralyzed.
'You'll let me do that?'
Page 14.
She shook her head, just the slightest negative.
'Oh, come on now. Don't be like that Jenny. Just one little kiss. What would that hurt?'
'You know why. You know full well why. Because I don't want you to. Not that, nor the horrible things you've just said to me. You know it'll lead to more, and I know it too.'
'But your lips are so beautiful, so inviting.'
I peered into her sex.
'And I bet those down there are too.'
She blanched and averted her eyes from my looming ones.
'I bet you have a beautiful vagina.'
'You are being disgusting. I don't want to hear this. I can't hear any more of this. So please pay attention to what I am saying.'
'The same way you are to me?'
'Uh? What?'
'I bet you have a beautiful fucking cunt.' I drew the words out and pretended to say it all meanly by contorting my lips into twisted shapes. And my mind along with them.
'No, no stop it please.'
'To match these.' I said as I gave her tits the lightest up brush across.
Her face tightened into tears and she really had to turn the pleading on now, if she was ever going to avoid being raped. She had to invoke extra sincerity, she thought.
'Jim. Stop it, Jim. Look at me. Look at me please. I'm not who you think I am. I'm not a victim. I don't want to be a victim. Live the rest of my life that way. So, please look at me. See who I am. I have a family and a child, and my husband loves me. He takes good care of me and has helped me build my business to be so successful. (As if I didn't know that already and that he was away for a week looking to set up a satellite location, on the other side of the country.) I'm a good person and I take care of people. I look out for them, others and do quite a bit of community service. You think I'm good looking, beautiful, you said, But I'm that way on the inside too.'
'What a fucking choice of words.' I taunted her. 'On the inside, like inside your cunt?'
Page 15.
She could see her sincerity and directness were not reaching me. Not getting through to the core of my humanity. And, of course, that was a big part of her misconception, and a bigger part of her serious problems to come. That she was entreating, human being to human being, when it was cunt to monster, for me.
I pretended to ignore her well chosen words and started to slide my index finger down her slender arm from her bare shoulder to her bare elbow. I traced a vein and worked my way back along and up. I could have crunched one of her tits in a vice grip flash.
Matter of factly I suggested, 'Why don't you take your blouse off?'
'No. No way, I will not.'
'Why not, it's not hiding much anyway. Look how hard they are.'
She was really pissed with her body. It was betraying her. Her nipple erections made her look like she was asking for it. Like she wanted it, while it was only fear and loathing which were propelling them outwards. But she knew my eyes couldn't tell the difference and I was right, her blouse wasn't the one she needed to have on right now. Too fucking late for that, and I still wanted to pull her slacks down too. I knew she'd have special undies. I just knew it.
Her person was about to be raped and she pretty well didn't know how to prevent it.
'I want a kiss. I told you that. I already told you that.'
Now she was more agreeable, and motivated, and she held her lovely face out slightly towards mine and our lips met ever so lightly. God did she ever taste and smell incredible and edible.
I pressed slightly harder towards her and she drew back and opened her clamped shut eyes.
'There. There now, that wasn't so bad was it.'
'No. I guess not. Please just let me go. I'm going to pee myself. I can't hold it any longer.'
'In a minute, and in an hour, if you don't co-operate.'
'What now? What?'
Page 16.
'I want you to take off your blouse, I already told you.'
'No I can't. I just can't.'
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handy switch blade. It was an Italian stiletto, from the war with a dark wood handle and a three inch blade. The point was plenty pointed and sharp.
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I held it to her view, mere inches away, and clicked the blade open in a snap.
It almost took her fucking nose off.
I pressed it lightly to her cheek.
'Want me to cut it? Cut your cheek? Your face? Want me to ruin your lovely complexion?'
'Oh, oh, God no. No, don't. I'll take it off. OK, I will.'
It's funny how a knife held to a beautiful woman's face always seemed to motivate her faster and deeper than a pistol to her brain. The fear of her looks being buggered, and all that I supposed. Vanity insanity? Not really I supposed again, since I was the only insane one involved.
She clanked her cuffed wrists to her bosom and started into undoing the eight tiny pearl buttons keeping her bra inside. Her fingers had grown into, like big dumb sausages and she could hardly manage their little size.
She was struggling and stalling so I slid the knife tip under one button, the bottom one, and with a flick of my wrist it popped off to fall to the floor. It sounded like a crash to her.
I moved up to the next button and did the same thing.
I started to go for the third one and then changed direction and moved the knife downwards towards her slack's crotch.
I stepped back away, a bit, to peer down to her cunt.
'OK. Stop. Stop it. Stop it. Please. OK. I'll get them undone.'
Suddenly her long slender fingers were lithe again and the other buttons were all unfastened in a jiffy.
Now we were there.
Her blouse was fully unbuttoned, missing a few thought, but it wasn't opened at all down the front.
I could have opened it by blowing on it with my wind.
Page 17.
I probably could have parted it by farting on it too.
Farting and parting, sort of had a ring and a smell to it.
We just stood there, like a face-off, or a stand-off, instead of a blouse-off and she would not force herself to take the next step.
For the very first time, she managed to look defiant, and on her soft, kind, angelic, gentle face it looked out of place, but totally fantastic.
Her eyes were like pools of anxiety and revulsion, tinged with just the right quantity of righteous indignation.
'You're getting mad, are you?'
'Yes. Why wouldn't I be?'
'Just don't make me mad.'
'You're already mad, to be doing this to me.'
'Whatever you say, but not with this in my hand. You think that's a good idea?'
She didn't, and more reluctantly that anything she'd ever had to do in her life before, even more so that when she'd had to abort a baby because of what the doctors had said, she moved the sides of her blouse open and away to reveal her jugs. Her transparent, stretched bra found each of her contours perfectly and her nipples ruptured the smooth surface of each cup. She might as well have left it at home, as for hiding her attributes, although it did provide a measure of support and she was proud of her tits. She always considered them one, (or would that be two?), of her best features. She was jug proud and wasn't afraid to drive men crazy with her nipples poked out. But the thing with driving men crazy was that crazy men could be attracted, and now she had to deal with that consequence.
I spunked in my briefs.
I gave a pained, orgasmic groan from my groin and it unnerved her. She'd heard it before, at the Designer Bazaar, when she'd asked me if I was alright.
'Oh fuck. O fuck almighty. Are your tits beautiful. Fuck and fucking shit. What right do you have, having such incredible jugs?'
'Stop it, please. You're scaring me.'
'I should have them. They should belong to me. I should cut them off and keep them.'
I must have sounded inhuman, like a monster from the dark hiding under her bed when she was five years old.
'Uhh, fuck. Bitch. Geeze, fuck.'
'Stop it.' She got fairly loud for the first time like, she was trying to snap me out of it. All she was doing was snapping me into it.
I had to let her know.
I had to really begin fucking with her mind.
I could get to her genitals soon enough, but her spirit was my target, right for now.
I just had to bugger her hopes (of no violence), which I'd pretty well, already, done with my outburst.
Page 18.
'God I love your fucking nipples.'
I groaned.
'Uhh, now these are nipples.'
I groaned from my crotch and my asshole right down to my feet.
'Uhh, fuck. Fuck and fuck.'
My cock was exploding again.
'And fuck.'
There was more jizz to be shot.
'I just have to hurt them.'
Now it was out there.
Specifically, realistically, as in realism, out there.
She looked horrified and her anxiety level went right through the roof of her head. I'd swear her hair-do stood on end.
My pecker did and was.
'No. No. No. Oh, God no. Why would you say that to me? You said you wouldn't hurt me and I said I'd take you at your word and now I'm doing that. I'm holding you to your word. Do not hurt me. Don't start to hurt me.'
She understood the significance of my starting. That once underway, it could be hard to stop. I might begin to feast on it and embrace it.
'I fucking love them but I have to hurt them.'
She needed to reason me out of it.
'That doesn't make sense. If you like them so much, why do you have to hurt them? That's not logical.'
Shows what she knew about sadism and mutilation.
'Because, fucking look at them, they're fucking perfect. You're fucking perfect.'
'No I'm not, but that's not a reason, not a valid one.'
'Then, how about this? Because I like hurting them. I like what I can do to them. I like how they torture. I like hurting nipples more than any other of your sexual parts. That clear enough for you?'
And it was.
And then some.
She knew then her cunt was in the equation too. The torture equation. How could that possibly be? What had she ever done to me to deserve this?
'You fucking bitch.' I moaned as I touched my knife point to her hardened tit tips.
'You fucking, fucking bitch.' I growled as I gave her, her first mean kiss. My first kiss of really controlling her. Of really getting into her sex space and her head and her serious resistance.
Her lips fought and her mouth rebelled.
And her teeth had nothing, of me, to bite.
Page 19.
She was a rigid, alabaster statue, and her mouth was frozen in disgust. Fear froze her limbs and terror seized her mind.
She couldn't help herself and she pissed her sweet crotch.
'God damn it. Look what you've done now. You've gone and made your cunt filthy. I guess that make you a filthy cunt.' I taunted and derided her.
'I just couldn't help it. You scared me too much. I'm only human. I'm only a normal woman and you've terrorized me with your trash talk.'
'Get them down. Get them both down. I assume you're wearing underwear, aren't you?'
What did it matter, if they were both coming off anyway? The anger thought flashed through her mind.
'Get then down, I have to clean you up and wash them.'
'Please. Just please. Just let me do this one thing. Please let me clean myself up. Just let me. In private, please.'
She seemed to be begging for an extra reason.
'Jenny, fuck you, get them down, or I'll cut them off you and I might cut something else down there, while I'm at it.'
'How can you say such horrid things? How can you?'
'Practice. Lots of practice.' I gloated back to her.
'You've done this before? This isn't your first time? Oh, God, tell me you haven't don't this before.'
'I cannot tell a lie. I haven't - to you. Oh, I guess that's not quite true either, ever since I saw you at the Designer Bazaar, I've fucked you a hundred times in my brain. I watch fucked you while you were there. For pretty well two hours. Didn't you notice? I'm surprised you didn't even notice. You even spoke to me. Asked me if I was alright as I brushed right against you and groaned, in that really crowded designer purse booth. Your ass cheeks felt good and my boner appreciated the brief treat. Now I have a long treat in store and so do you.'
'The Bazaar. That's where you saw me? But that was weeks ago. How did you, what did you do to find me?'
'None of your fucking business, but I've obviously succeeded, and if I don't find you clothes down and off, in about two seconds, I'm going to start cutting.'
Page 20.
I pressed the knife tip to her breast about an inch off her areola and gave a slight twist.
'Uhh. Fuck and fuck. I'd love to cut one of those off. Right now, I fucking want to keep it. I already told you that, didn't I? No need to repeat myself, but I just love saying it. Cut a tit off. Cut a woman's tit off. Not just any woman's tit off, your tit off. Cut your nipple off instead.'
I closed my eyes for a moment in fake pain which was more like real orgasmic ecstasy. I could cum just saying it out loud.
She started to pull her slacks down.
Ever so slowly she wriggled and shifted her incredible hips until they were down past her crotch.
She got them down to her knees and I just had to stop her.
'Quit. Stop it. Leave them right there.'
She looked confused, and didn't want to, until I pressed the knife harder into her tit again, but closer to her nipple.
I'd gotten her extra attention.
I knelt down slowly and the stink of her piss didn't even bother me at all. In fact it fueled me and made me all, even more, rubbery inside.
I was looking right into her fluid stained, yellow, stretchie panties with 'me delicious' emblazoned right across the front. So she thought she was delicious, eh? That her cunt area was good enough to eat? Well I supposed she had that right. How did I know there'd be something special, something weird about her briefs? It must have been male cock intuition.
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Each labia mound was clearly defined and just as I fully expected, her vagina was even more exquisite than her chest. She was smooth and tight and hard. I pulled her slacks all the way down and raised her feet, one after the other, so she could step out of them.
'"Mi Delicia", what's that? What the fuck's that about?'
She didn't want to say, in case it seemed like more of an invitation. She knew her crotch was inviting, but the words, the meaning of the foreign words could make it seem even more so, like available.
'So tell me. Translate it for me.'
Still she wanted to keep it a secret (from my boner).
'So let me see, let me guess. 'Mi', probably me and 'Delicia' seems obvious, delicious. So me delicious, is that about right?'
Page 21.
She still wouldn't acknowledge my translation skills. I stuck the knife point hard to her inner thigh and let her know, 'I'll cut them off.'
'Yes. Yes, you're right. That's the meaning.'
'So you think you're delicious? You think you're delicious down there, do you?' I really loved taunting and teasing her about her private attitudes.
'Yes. No. I just like how they fit and I got them as a lark when I was in Italy. But they're just mine. They weren't for you...'
'To see? You didn't expect anyone else to see them?'
'Well yes, sort of. I never thought..I never expected..'
'That a pervert would have a knife an inch from your labia.'
'Please, oh please just stop. My underwear shouldn't be an issue. It's private and none of your business.'
'You'd better make that none of my fucking business, because it's going to be about the business of my fucking you, you get it?'
She sort of mumbled and mewled and I gave her a little knife point jab but didn't break her skin, yet. But still she yelped.
I got up and stepped back and filled the bathroom sink with cold water.
'I shouldn't use hot water, on these, right? I don't want to shrink them, although that wouldn't be a bad idea either. To make them fit you even tighter.'
She wasn't really listening now, she was so mortified by her underwear being exposed to a madman against her will. She'd occasionally, but not often, wondered what she'd do if she was confronted with such a situation, but this was completely different than any of her imaginings.
Many woman, when they fantasized about being raped, it's a movie star and he's making love to them, against their diminishing pleas for him not to, until they'd beg for him to cum in them. To slop their vaginas and nibble their nipples. Like love making and playtime rape.
This wasn't the case at all in my case.
I was a dangerous, mutilating, cold blooded and calculating kidnapping potential rapist and she knew this was any woman's, and now her worst, wide awake screaming nightmare.
Page 22.
'Where are your thoughts? Why aren't you listening to me? I said, should I wash them in cold water only?'
I obviously knew this already, but wanted to control her that little bit extra.
'Do what ever you want. You're going to anyway. So just do what you want. You think they matter to me now?'
'No, I suppose not. But I bet these do, and this does.'
I brushed it across her tits and then slid the knife along and up the crease in her briefs.
Now I could see why she was extra embarrassed and defensive.
There it was, the skinny worm outline, under the yellow fabric.
The fucking end of the little white string was hanging out of her tidy twat.
She was on the rag, although I don't think many called it that anymore. She had a fucking tampon stuffed in her cunt and just knew I'd be on about it, probably meanly, and taking it out.
It was sort of elementary, it had to come out for me to go in.
It wasn't that she was ashamed about her period, it was that I'd be a part of it. I'd me messing with her mess when she was the most vulnerable. She was a bit of a feminist, that way, and even contributed the odd article to 'The Museum of Menstruation'. Now go figure, the cunts even had a museum dedicated to the history and the celebration of their monthly bleeding sessions.
I would like to have sent in a few of my ideas too, but I figured they'd never clear the curator or moderator, whichever term applied correctly to an on-line, virtual museum bleeding heart bitch.
She was even really good friends with Stephanie, a mouthy, cunt bitchy bitch who had the fucking nerve to 'celebrate her period.'
What did she call it? Oh yeah, "On the Rag and Proud of It. Celebrating Menstruation". If that wasn't a cunt just begging to be knifed, I don't know what was.
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Jenny's slacks were soaking in the sink and I knelt right down to the next task for the knife in hand.
I declined to tease her about her period, at least for a bit.
I wanted her to mention it first.
Page 23.
'You are so fucking, fucking beautiful. I'm almost afraid to take these down. Even though I can see the contours of your labia right through them and a bit of your sweet tidy hair bush, I'm afraid of what I'll do if I pull them off you.'
'So don't then.' she said in exasperation and half hope.
'Not take them down? Are you fucking crazy?'
'But you said. You just said. It was you who said it.'
'Oh yeah. What I meant was I'm afraid of what I might do if I don't get them down. Ha, ha, jokes on you. Or should I say, coming off you.'
'God. God help me. Where are your God? God help me.'
'Too late for that. Elevator going down.'
'No please, don't.'
'Mi Delicia, Mi Delicia, elevator going down.'
And with that, I slid them off her in one smooth, smooth move, like I'd done it many times before and wiped them across my face and then put them to her nose.
'Smell a bit rancid, don't they?'
She wondered why I hadn't mentioned her Tampon and thought maybe the string was all the way inside her, like tucked in and hidden.
'You're disgusting.' She retorted as she snapped her nose away.
I wiped them to her cheek and kissed her lips at the same time, and stuffed them into one of her bra cups.
She looked silly with her chest that way, but only to a normal person. To me she looked spectacular and vulnerable. Like she couldn't even stop that tiny little, itty-bitty-titty, indignity.
Now it was time to get cunt serious.
I knelt down to pray at her crotch.
My undivided attention was looking for some sign of her clit, and my knife point divided her labia, at the top just a pinch.
Page 24.
You want to see a woman freeze. Make her stand like a statue, that's as good a way as any (I know of).
'I'm gonna put the knife down. You stand perfectly still. You don't move a muscle, unless I tell you to or I'll pick the knife up again. And you don't want that do you? You don't want any more of that?'
She barely gasped, that she understood.
'Stand with your legs apart. About two feet, ha, ha, like your own two feet, spread them.'
Every ounce of her anger told her not to, every iota of her dignity, but her spirit and sense of self-preservation and survival told her to, and she listened to the later.
Her fuckable princess bush was so ready for my cock.
The positioning was perfect.
I put both my hands firmly onto her trembling hips, at the side, and eased my face towards her clit slit.
I could smell the piss on her immediately and advised her.
'Can't have that smell. It'll ruin the taste.'
I stood up and retrieve a face cloth and soaked it in the same cold water her garments were soaking in.
I brought it to her crotch, but put it in her hand instead.
'You do it. You clean yourself instead. And do it good. Way up inside. And take that fucking Tampon out of yourself, or I'll do it with my teeth.'
'You bastard, if you knew, why didn't you say anything?'
'I was waiting for you to, you stupid cunt. How many days you got to go?'
'I've just started. Now is my heaviest flow.'
Why did they always lie about that, the ones I'd
had before who were bleeding? They thought it would be a deterrent?
'Well isn't that convenient for you. You think that'll stop me? Make your cunt less attractive to me? Well it won't. But if I find out you've lied to me, thinking it would help your cause, I swear I'll take the blow torch to your clitoris and fry the fucking thing to a crisp. So how many more days do you really have of it?'
Page 25.
She looked sheepish and admitted her lie right away. 'I'm pretty well done. I'm sorry, this is my last day.'
'Your last day and not your first. Too bad you couldn't have been truthful right from the start, because now it may be the last day of the last period you ever have.'
'Oh, God, no. Please. I've told you the truth. You told me to, so don't punish me for being honest.'
'How can you not get it? You're not that fucking stupid. Honest is only honest the first time around, not the second or third. A fucking liar, that's what you were, and I already told you what I think of hot-shot cunt liars.'
'I'm not a hot shot.'
'Well you will be when I give your pussy a hot shot with a blow torch.'
(She thought I was kidding about the torch. Nobody could be that cruel, she thought. But she was still plenty outraged that I'd even suggest it.)
'You're a horrid, disgusting animal, and I despise you.'
She was getting more pissed (ha ha) and defiance really was starting to look excellent on her face. Her eyes too, wore it well.
She was an angry angel and I wanted to pull her fucking wings right off and stuff them in her cunt.
'Now pull the fucking thing out and wash your fucking cunt. And give it to me. I want it as a souvenir.'
Ever so slowly she extracted the cork and then took the cloth and threw them both to the side and away.
Now I tried to look angry too.
It so turned me on, how she was daring to fight back, that I figured I had to set up a real boxing match or a wrestling match or a combination of both, with her. Not right then, but I had an idea, and that was never good for any of them.
I went to slug her in the mouth, but just pretend, and pulled my punch short. She recoiled her head back as if I'd connected and cried out, 'No. Don't hit me. Don't hit my face.'
Page 26.
'Your face? Not in your face. Somewhere else be OK?'
'No. Just don't hit me please.'
'I didn't.'
'I know, but you were going to. I thought you were.'
'You think if I'd wanted to, you wouldn't have a bloody lip right now?'
I took her mouth and squeezed it between my fingers. I puckered her lips out, like sort of silly, and kissed her and bit onto her lower lip.
She resented the bite and threw her head away.
She might as well have thrown her cunt away too.
'Not in the face. eh? Not in your puss.'
I'd let go of her mouth and she retorted, 'You're evil.'
'What about in your other puss?'
'What? Oh? What did you say?'
'What about I punch you in your other puss?'
'Oh God, no. You can't be serious. What's the matter with you?'
'I'm having a good time. I guess that's what's the matter. And you're not. I presume you're not.'
'I'm scared. Really scared, so the answer to that should be obvious. Even to you it should be.'
'Yeah, I suppose you're right. Seems sort of logical, doesn't it.'
'I don't know what's reasonable to you any more. I just don't. You come out with the most terrifying and outrageous things, like you're trying to out do yourself, so I don't have a clue how your mind works.'
'Not the same as yours, that's for sure.' I laughed at her.
'It's not funny. Nothing about this is funny, so stop teasing me and demeaning me. This isn't funny at all.'
'You look funny with your panties hanging out of your bra and you looked funny when I squeezed your face, like this.'
I loved doing it again.
'But this isn't funny. Not funny at all.' She tried to tell me.
'What about I slug you in the cunt.'
Page 27.
'What about you go to Hell.' It was loaded with lots of venom.
She didn't mean to spit it out, but now it was too late to take it back, besides I'd goaded her into it, she figured, so I had it coming.
'Getting feisty, are we? Feeling our oats? Getting a little bit defiant? I love it. I just fucking love it.'
'I. I didn't mean. I just..'
'Oh you meant it all right. You'd like nothing better than to slug me first, right in the balls. I know you would. So tell me.'
I started to take my pants off.
'Let's say I show you what you'd be aiming for. What you'd be hitting.'
They were full off now and my boner pushed my briefs out in the front about five inches. I was quite proud of how parallel to the ground it was, and took a good hold of my own package. 'This is yours now. This'll all be yours soon.'
It should have delighted her, but she had other ideas.
'You're disgusting and I can see what you're up to now. You're into terrorizing me. That's what gets you going, so if you're going to rape me, just get it over with and stop tormenting me.
'With this?' I asked as I pulled my briefs down and off.
Now she saw her torture tormentor's joy stick.
I stripped my shirt off next and was before her full naked and exposed and very, very proud and self satisfied. I'd envisioned, many times, the first time she saw me naked and now it was accomplished. It's taken weeks of careful planning, but my patience had fully paid off. Fucking, cunt bitch, she'd better appreciate it and worship it, or would she ever be up shit's creek without an oar, or even a stick.
She wanted to look everywhere but my crotch.
She even averted her eyes to the ceiling.
'What the fuck's up there that's interesting? The focus of your attention is down here. Focus on it. Focus on me. Feast your eyes on my cock.'
She snapped her view down and then snapped it back away.
'That was just a glance. Just a glancing look, but what do you think? Good enough for you? Big enough for your - bum?'
Page 28.
Now she started with the whimpering, for the first time.
'No. No. Oh, no. How can you? Why can you? God, why do you let him talk to me like this, like that? I want to go home. Get me out of here please.'
I smacked the side of her face, to snap her out of her quasi-prayer. Quasi or not, they never did any good. By the time I got them, by the time I got to them, their Gods were nowhere to be found. But it comforted them and it seemed to calm her a bit, believing that He might, no that He would, come to her rescue.
Anyhow, she was a mental mess and just starting to cave.
I stood right in front of her with my pecker pointed right to her crease. I took her face between my hands and kissed her.
'Grab onto it. Take it in your hands.'
She sure as Hell didn't want to do that.
'No? No, no hand job? So in your mouth instead? A fucking blow job instead? Some good old fashioned fellatio? Even better.'
She grabbed on to my boner and made a feeble attempt to grip it hard. It was like one of those wet-noodle handshakes, the queers all seemed to have.
'Geeze, the eight year old I had, she squeezed it harder than that.'
That fucking freaked her. And she jumped her hands right off my privates. Like I'd just scalded her - mentally.
'You. No. No, that's not possible. No, I don't believe you.'
'What?'
'A girl. You treated a girl...'
(She was going to say, like this. But I interrupted her.)
'To my dick?'
'You're, I hate you. You're foul and disgusting and inhuman if you did. If you really did such a despicable thing.'
'Oh, it didn't start out that way. I had the kid's mother, she was about your age, but not quite so good looking, but her cunt was already a mess, and the kid came home from school, on the yellow bus. They lived in a rural spot. She came bouncing into her house, looking every bit as fetching as her mom, only everything was so much younger and smaller. I mean, I had to have a taste. It just sort of happened and it made her mother insane to have to watch. So it was all the more special because of that too. That was really my main motivation, to launch her mother's brain right out of earth orbit. To bung her to bits. I broke her spirit too, into shards and little jagged pieces. She begged me, and begged me to do her instead, to do it to her instead, even to kill her, and never figured out, why? They both had cunts and they were both mine, so instead, never entered into it, for me.'
'You're horrid and despicable and a monster and it didn't just sort of happen. You made it happen. You let it happen, the same way you're doing this to me.'
Page 29.
'Fuck, you're really getting ticked at this, aren't you?'
'It's disgusting and the worst of the worst.'
'Be that as it may, there's something else going on with you.'
Now she smelled that I smelled something besides her stinky cunt which yet had to be bathed.
I looked hard at her.
She squirmed under my glare.
What was she hiding, but not very well?
I'd been through this exact same thing before, with the five models I'd grabbed from a convention center in another city.
One of them inadvertently revealed she had a daughter, and that became such a mistake for the two of them.
(Read my other account -- Choices -- Start page 30.)
I looked at Jenny really hard. I knew it right then. I just fucking knew it.
I could smell her kid.
'Where's your purse?'
'Why? No.'
'Oh yeah, I left it in the car. I'll be back in a minute.'
'Please, look here. Look, I'm ready to have you enter me.'
She'd actually spread her feet a bit further and was thrusting, holding her incredible pelvis out forward. She even pulled her bra up too. And threw her delicious panties to the side. I picked them up and rubbed them to my nose and then to hers. They stank and she winced and I tossed them to soak in the sink with her slacks.
'Now, I have to see in your purse. See what you're hiding.'
'Look. Look, please.'
She was fucking masturbating.
This fucking classy ladies' lady was smacking her own monkey. I loved it and watched transfixed for a few moments but jerked my pecker head back to reality. I gave my head a shake and the stiff one too.
Jenny was desperate.
Her handcuffs rattled and she was rattled too as she rattled her clit.
She was overwhelmed with the unfolding dynamics.
'Jim. Jim, you said you wanted to punch me in my vagina. That you liked to do that sort of thing. Then do it. Look here. I'm holding it out. So do it.'
How on God's good green earth with the little red apples could I resist such an invitation? No self respecting sadist, murdering pervert could. Especially no sexual psychopath worth his salt, or with a good right hook.
Page 30.
'Whoa Nelly. Whoa Jenny. Jennifer, do you know what you just said?'
How could she not.
'Fuck, I've really got you spooked. Punch you in the cunt? I could rupture you, you know. You're prepared to let me do that to you?'
'Please, oh please. Hit me, if you want to, but not that hard.'
'Not hard enough to rupture you then?'
'Please just rape me. That's what I'd prefer, but if you have to strike me too, then get it over with too.'
'Well you're doing some serious negotiating aren't you? What you're putting on the table. So what are you hoping to gain?'
'I just want you to finish so you can let me go..'
'And get back to you family?' I finished her sentence.
'Yes, I so want to see them again.'
'Pictures of them in you purse? In your wallet? That what you don't want me to see?'
'Please just have sex with me. Look at my breasts. My nipples. You said how much you loved my nipples.'
'And I said I'd like to hurt them too. That I wanted to torture them too. You up for that also?'
She'd already dug the hole wide and now was digging it deeper and deeper. She'd be coming out in China soon if she didn't shut up. Or end up creating a new lake that could be named after her. Lake Jenny in Massacre City.
'I can't talk to you anymore. Whatever I say, whatever I offer, you just add to it and make it worse. Make it more impossible.'
'Well I do have a way of doing that, don't I. I suppose you'd say I have a knack for it. I've acquired the knack. And I've acquired you.'
'You don't own me. You never will.'
'Don't be so sure.
'No, I'm sure. You never have, during one second of this sick fantasy you're playing out, not will you ever.'
'We'll deal with that in a moment. So your cunt, you still want me to slug you in it?'
Continued in folder 2.
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