Smithereens

Continued from folder one.

Page 42.

       'Fuck you. Fuck you, you heartless bastard. Fuck you.' And with that she tried to fire point blank at me, at my chest and then my head.

       She couldn't budge the trigger.

       She looked in panic, at the gun for the safety, for why the trigger wouldn't work. She was stepping away to put distance between us because she sensed she'd have to run for it again, but this time really flee for her life.

       She tried two more shots and nothing was different so she heaved the rifle at me and headed off into the bush back the way we'd just come, at full tilt. I easily retrieved the gun and offed the safety.

       I steadied my arm and took a bead just below her knee level. I fired and missed. She heard the shot and heard the slug, slug the ground so close to her she thought it hit her, but she could keep on fleeing. I took aim again and caught her square on the calf muscle. She went down like a ton of bitches and rolled and tumbled to a stopped dead-in-her-tracks heap. She was hollering and crying for mercy and help, and clutching her leg.

       She was grabbed onto her wound and the blood was spurting and staining my jeans. She pulled them up from the bottom to see the damage (hole).

       I strutted up to her all cocky and cock-sure, like the great white hunter and fired another round just missing her brain. I'd moved the sight off dead between her eyes, at the last split second, and hit the dirt instead. But I kept the gun pointed dead for her skull.

       'Take my pants off and give me back my shirt.'

       I wasn't foolin' around.

       'My leg, it's bleeding. You shot me. You hit me. Please, no.'

       'Give me my fucking clothes or I'll shoot you right now again and you think I'll miss from six inches away?'

       She stripped fast and now she was back how I wanted her, naked and fucking terrified out of her gourd and now wounded to boot. What could be more perfect better? I sidled over to her and I kicked her in the ribs and it wasn't softly. I went to crack her again and she shied away. I reached down and like a mechanical claw, forced her to stand upright using her hair as a pull.

       I twisted her neck and her face around.

Page 43.

       I looked her right in the eyes.

       She had never come close to being so scared, in her entire life, and she assumed she was about to die.

       It would have been so much better for her if she had.

       I tried to act angry.

       I wasn't the least bit upset. I never was.

       How could I be angry with so much pleasure and impending fun?

       I tried to act furious, like I was the aggrieved party.

       But I only wanted to laugh and giggle and my cock was saluting her.

       She was worthy of respect and defilement.

       I wasn't saying much with words. I was just controlling her with looks and a strong grip. I was trying to decide which part of her to bash next, because she surely had it coming.

       Even she knew she had it coming and waited for my clout.

       I smacked her face, just a back hand.

       'You give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you right now. Right here and now. Give me half a good reason.'

       She looked like she was searching through mental files for something specific she remembered. She was trembling and apologetic and finally found the secret.

       'I can fellate you. I can do it really well, if you'll just give me the chance to show you.'

       She didn't look the part, but the thought of my boner inside her sweet mouth was an image too sweeter to pass up.

       'How do you know? That you're good? You done it lots before?'

       'No. No, but I know I can. I've seen it on TV and it doesn't look that difficult.'

       Well there it was, an arm chair sex expert, sexpert, and I had to laugh at her.

       'Have you ever had a dick in your mouth? Even a single one? Ever before?'

       She hadn't  and she figured correctly now wasn't the time for untruths. She shook her head side to side embarrassed and sheepishly.

       'Nice try. Nice try girl. So get to it then. Give me the real good reason why I shouldn't murder you. Tell me why.'

Page 44.

       She started slowly and tenderly and tentatively.

       'Because I'm a nice person and I don't deserve to die. You don't have the right to play God and I have the right to live. I do. You have to know that. Nobody has the right to do what you've done to me and if you hurt those other women, like you claim you did, then I don't know what to say to you. Except, why would you be so cruel to a girl? She was only fourteen, she wasn't worldly or guilty of anything. She had her whole life in front of her. She was just a kid, her mother's baby. How could you?'

       'How could I? No, no. How did I? Now there's a story. I just gotta tell you, fuck was it a spectacle. The bitchy mother and her bitch daughter. Let me tell you a bit about them and it's quite a tale.'

       'I don't want to hear.'

       'Well you're going to anyway, so pay attention. It was this way. You know I fucked her the first time? It was her first time so I got her cherry. I split her hymen.'

       I loved talking to current victims about how previous victims had been abused and loved showing pictures and playing videos of their screams and their fighting back and pretty well always their death throws.

       'No. No, please I don't want to know.'

       'But I want to tell you anyway, it was so fantastic, so listen your ears up.'

       She wanted ear plugs but couldn't keep my words and their attendant images out. They seared into her brain and her feminine soul and parts.

       'So mom was a bitch. Let me tell you that. A grade A, number one certified bitch. She had a mouth on her but, boy too, did she ever have a body on her. Bigger than you and quite a bit more tit, but then only developing girls have less than you. But fuck could she fight. She was strong, being a phys-ed coach and all, and could she ever get with the attitude, especially when I got to messing with her kid. Well holy fuck that's when she went like nuts, like I almost lost control of her a couple of times and she even tried to hang herself to keep me out of the kid's daisy fresh cunt.'

Page 45.

       Chris was shaking her head in distress and clamped her eyes shut tight like it would somehow help her not to hear. Didn't she know she had her senses mixed up? But then her brain was being fried too, so I supposed it made sense she wouldn't know what to do next. But I sure did. Continue on with my account in minute detail.

       'So you see, I've had enough of the games. I'm pissed with the mother. I'd already done her maybe three times in the cunt, once in the ass and I'm doing her across her tits and she's berating me for not being a man, not being a human being and real men don't fuck women across their breasts. I suppose she meant when there's a vagina available. But there were two of them available and I got this great idea. I gets this fantastic idea. A really original approach, at least for me it was and I don't know if any other rapist has ever done it before. I should post it on a rape site so they can give it a run, a try out. I can assure them, they'd never be disappointed, I know I wasn't. So I hurries up a bit and I spunked her chest and beat on her tits a bit and then figured it all out perfect. Oh man, I get an erection just thinking about it. See? See it growing?'

       She wouldn't look at my rising star penis. She couldn't see it with her eyes still glued shut.

       'I'll stick it in your mouth if you don't open your eyes to appreciate it. So fucking look at me. Look at it and take a good measure of it. It's going to be the last prick you ever see, and so am I.'

       She glared at my cock and would have bitten it off, if her teeth could have reached that far. Fortunately for me they were still in her mouth which unfortunately for her meant I could still knock them out.

       'That's better. Good little girly, Chrissy. So I tied her to the floor. Mom, completely spread eagled, facing up naked as a jay bird and she's spitting curses at me all the time I'm doing it. Of course I'm grabbing her tits and her cervix a little so she's extra pissed. I gets her arms straight up above her head and her legs so far apart they're like a train wreck where cars end up on opposite sides of the track. I mean she'd almost separated at her hip's joints. Fuck it looked great.'

       I needed some extra breath and energy.

Page 46.

       'Fuck was it ever great. I mean I tightened her up so much I thought her joints were going to pop. Oh, yeah, I just said that, like they were going to dislocate right apart out of their sockets. And does she ever fucking holler about that and all the while her kid's screaming at me, at the top of her lungs, and the bottoms too, to stop hurting her mom. Hurting her mom? I was fucking torturing her and I wanted to mutilate her before I kills her. Just hurting her, that was a joke.

       So then, and you got to get this, you have to visualize this Chris, I get the girl. She sees me coming and now she wishes she hadn't hollered so loud and she won't stop fighting and crying when she sees her mom like that and now I'm there for her and of course mom's yelling and pleading too and making all kinds of hopeless threats and useless promises. Even begging me to do worse things to her, so I cold cocks her. I slugged her one good punch to the arrogant jaw of hers and she goes out cold like the sack of shit she was and it was lights out for her. But her kid's wide eyed and fully conscious even though she's hyperventilating and I thought she might pass out too to join her cunt mother. But she doesn't.

       So, no, no, wait for this, wait for it, get this. I got the kid and I kicked her over to where her mom was tied and I sat her ass down on mom's tits, right on her chest and heart but she was facing towards her head. Towards mom's face. I laid the kid down so her head was even to mom's knees and her legs and feet were above her mother's face. So now just see it. Can you see it?'

       Chris barely could form the images let alone acknowledge them, but I knew she could see the picture. I was describing it in the minute detail so she had to be able to.

       'I spread the kid's legs, her ass, and I tied them off really tight and really spread. I pulled her arms way up and tied her wrists to her mom's ankles and now comes the really special parts. The really good stuff. I mean, was I even meaner, up until now it's been nice, almost civilized by comparison but now it gets fantastic. Fucking fantastic kid torture and it's even worse for her mom. Her mom has to watch and can't do a fucking thing. Fuck it was so perfect. I got the kid's vagina about a foot away from her mother's face and I put a big pillow under her head so she has to look right into her kid's crotch. Right into her cunt. Oh man. Fuck, my prick's going to explode. So think about it. Holy fuck I gotta masturbate. I gots to jerk off. Will you masturbate me?'

Page 47.

       She wasn't amenable to doing that right then, but she would be later. My cock was like a hot air balloon and was going to pull me up to the ceiling if it didn't get some relief. I kissed Chris and finger fucked her cunt and shot a spunk shot right into her sweet face. It dripped off her lips and I just left it there to humiliate her and saturate her fears further.

       'So the, the kid has her clothes on still and I gets the scissors, the sharp fabric ones and I cut them off slowly until just her bra and panties are left. All the time, mom's freaking and inconsolable and begging me. She knows I'm going to make her baby naked and that won't be good. She's screaming at me and then the next second she's whispering to me to do her instead. What was the instead shit anyway? Too. Also, as in both of them. No instead.

       Now it was both of them and I knew it would be right from the start. That's why I'd grabbed them in the first place. Mother and daughter cunt, nothing beats it. I never figured out why she couldn't figure it out. She felt her cunt should be good enough for me. She'd let me rape her anyway I wanted if I left off with the kid but why couldn't she figure it out? I suppose she couldn't think like a rapist and she just couldn't accept or appreciate it. Her baby daughter was going to be smashed right in front of her eyes. I mean literally a foot from her eyes, where she had to see everything close up. Like it was magnified. And it was magnificent for me.

       So, So where was I? Oh yeah, I get the kid's tits out of her training bra and I shoves a hat pin through one of her nipples side to side, without warning and she hollers like the stuck little slut, stuck-up cheerleader bitch she was. She was sure stuck up then, stuck up right thought her bud. Mom freaks at her deeper screams. Like she knows something extra bad's just happened but she can't see what because my ass is blocking her view. So I told her what I'd just done to the tiny nipple and did the same to her generous one to show her how good it felt. I got carried away and shoved four pins into one of hers and she freaked louder each time. Of course, me telling her I was going to do it to her kid's clitoris, didn't help her emotional state either. So you still with me?'

Page 48.

       Chris's eyes were empty.

       Her soul was being seared with my account and my excitement and my cum was still garnishing her sweet mouth. Not as much of it though, I could see she'd licked some of it off. I put my finger to what was left and smeared it across her teeth.

       'There, have the rest of it. Mustn't waste any. Lots of nutrition. So, now it's time for the panties. Oh fuck, shit, they're the only thing between me and the kid's hymen. Well, you never heard such pleading in your life. I mean the bitch mother really meant it. Barely any from the kid, but tons from her mom. Like a fucking train load of pleads. I'd told the kid I'd torture her mother between the legs if she acted up too much. I didn't mind some but I wanted her to have to stifle it so she tried to keep it to a minimum to save her mom. A minimom, how's that for a new word?'

       My joke fell flat because it was a flat joke, like stupid and lame.

       'So I've got her that way and I kiss her vagina through her panties. They were beige and all silky and nothing ever felt or smelt so good. I still have them and I can show them to you later. You'd like to see them wouldn't you?'

       She didn't even try to indicate a response.

       'No. No, well you're going to anyway. Maybe even smell them like I did, but later. So then I'm kissing the kid's pussy through her panties and I kiss her mom's lips, her face. First the kid's crotch lips and then the mother's face lips. Man was that rich. I slid my thumbs into her panties, through the leg holes and could feel her little labia. She was small and tight and barely had any fuzz, no bush at all yet. A fucking bald cunt, what could be nicer? Maybe I should make yours bald too. Shave it later. Mom's screaming like a banshee and crying real tears now. She thought she'd been crying before but now she new better and there was worse to come, much worse. So, and wait for this, I pulls the kid's panties way up across her crevice, so I can see everything. She's so molded by the fabric and it makes me crazy. I wanted to try to rip her panties off by forcing them up into her with all my might but I figured it might bugger her hymen and I had other plans for that bit of meat. I cut the crotch out of them and there was her bare pussy pat. A sweet little bare vagina, bald as a baby's bum that no male had ever seen before, other than her doctor I guessed. Certainly no rapist had ever seen it before. But get this, mom has to look at it too. She has to look right into it because I told her if she didn't I'd burn her all the way up inside. I'd burn her kid right up to her cervix. So she cries a gallon of tears and get this, the kid gets all full of worries and pisses herself. All over mom's chest and tits and the piss actually splashes onto her face. Well, even I'm not into that so I have to undo the whole fucking set up. The whole arrangement. I have to cut the kid loose from her mom and then wash them both up, And I really washed the kid up and the mom down too. I smacked her cunt a few times because she was so vocal and she shut up and didn't like me trying to push the face cloth up to her cervix. Mom was a bitch when she should have been a belle and pleasant to me. So then I washed the kid's cunt too, right in front of mom and then took the next half hour getting her into the exact same position she was before she'd soiled the set up. I took my time and teased them both about what was to come. Mom knew I was about to cum in her kid. I didn't care how long it took, not at all, it was so much fun to do. Anticipation. Always the anticipation, like I'm sure you're going though now, Chris. You still with me?'

       Her mind was numb but she could still see the pictures I was drawing for her, even though I was drawing it all out. Elongating the episode, so to say, but none of it was puffery.

Page 49.

       'So now I'm ready again to go for the cherry and I get my face right down into it, to see what I have to bust. I've got mom's head propped up again and her eyes are so horror filled I think they're going to explode from the size of the image right before her. I mean she's only inches from her kid's hymen. It's big and looming right in front of her. She shuts them and the tears still sneak out and I told her if she closed them or tries to look away I'll burn the kid the same way I'd threatened to do before. When I got up to wash them, I got my propane torch, the plumber's one, for soldering pipes to show her I meant business, so she has to look.

       So Holy Mother of Shit, the kid doesn't have a normal cherry. Her hymen is septated, like divided, like the bridge of your nose. She's got a little elastic band across her hole. Talk about a gift from heaven. From hymen heaven, Manna from heaven, (I supposed Chris got it, I thought the kid was an angel.) it was too nice to bust with my cock. No sir-ee. I had to use my fingers so mom could see. So I could fucking see and make it last. I had to use my fingers and my teeth, but mostly my hands, so mom could see everything about it, about how I was doing it. So she could freak and freakin see. See it all.'

       I continued my salty account.

       'I dug my pinky finger in under the strip and pulled her out about half an inch. I kissed mom while I held it there and let the hymen snap back where it belonged. I did it again, pulling it out further, stretching it more and each time more. I kissed the kid really nicely on her mouth. I was going to do her. I was going to bust her and it was important that she smell the bastard who was going to be her defiler. I wanted to show her I didn't hate her. Not completely hate her and I loved what I was doing to her down there and it was because she was made that way, septated, that I could stretch it out. She didn't seem to care about the niceties of my cherry picking methods and she was crying as good as her mom by now.

       So then I kisses her mouth and then I kissed her labia. My tongue was punching in on the band. I almost bit through it, but then mom couldn't see the exact moment her cherry snapped so I corralled my teeth. I told the bitch, I told both of them, on the count of ten, I was going to pull out, on it, until it had to snap. I didn't care if I had to pull it up to mom's chin, it was fucking going to give up the ghost. Chris. You paying attention? Now it gets good. Answer me.'

Page 50.

       'What do you want me to say? What you're telling me is so horrid, no woman in her right mind would want to hear it.'

       'And you won't be in yours will you, in your right mind much longer, will you?'

       'You'd like that, wouldn't you? To think you drove me insane with your insane talk. To think you've beaten me with your disgusting rantings and ravings. Well you won't. I swear you won't. I won't let you defeat me.'

       'You finished? Don't be so sure. Anyway I want to get finished with my story. So on the count of ten, one, two three. I mean the mom's crazy with grief. Then four, five, six, seven. She swears at me like I've never been cursed at before. Much better than you've done and then eight, nine, and the big ten spot.

       Snap.

       That's just what I fucking did, I snapped it, pulled about an inch and a half out and it couldn't hold together any more, any longer, yeah that's better, it couldn't go any longer, ha ha, so it ruptures and it snaps, snaps right back into her labia, just forming as they were. She barely had labia mounds, not like yours. You may have tiny tits but your cunt's just normal and fine.

       So get this, mom's face. Mom's fucking face. There are no words. It didn't hurt the kid that much but it pierced mom's brain. I'd make it hurt a whole lot worse later. I fucking stole her little cervix eventually, but mom, oh shit mom, was she a wreck by now. The kid was busted, but mom was wrecked. Then I got a really fine hobby knife, like a scalpel and tidied the kid all up at the edges. She was ragged and when I was done she was like a neat freak. She had the sweetest tidy little pussy just all waiting for my eager boner. Keep listening Chris. Stay with me, you know she's about to get fucked, don't you?'

       Chris did not want to hear about the end part, so I smacked her a few hard times across her cheeks to re-focus her attention span and sharpen her perceptions.

Page 51.

       'Now it was time to fuck her. I couldn't believe my cock was really going to be the one to do her, it was just so rich and such a privilege and you have to imagine this. How am I going to be when I penetrate her? And how is mom going to be?

       I had to take the pillow out from under her skull and I straddled her head with my knees, with my penis pointing pretty well straight out. I ran it across mom's lips and made her suck me a bit. I had a screwdriver right to her eardrum and told her I'd rupture her brain if she bit me. I'm sure she wanted to decapitate my boner but she fellated me instead and so I'm as pumped and as ready as I'll ever be.

       I pried the kid open gently and wriggled my knob to her labia and start the decent and fucking man, mom is looking up at my sacks hanging down and can see some of the length of my shaft disappearing into her precious kid's hole. Now I ask you, Chris, what could be more horrible for a mother to watch? You fucking tell me, what could be worse?'

       'There is nothing. You're right, you're the ultimate bastard.'

       'Oh, no. No, it could get a whole lot worse. Remember the blow torch waiting nearby?'

       'My God, no. No.  Don't tell me. Don't say it. You didn't burn the child? Not there?'

       'Not just there. That would be more correct.'

       'Oh my God. Where is God? Where was He when you did that?'

       'Beats me, I guess he wanted to watch Sunday afternoon football. So let me finish. I'm not done yet. So mom sees my shaft getting sunk into her baby's pussy and I had to push pretty hard because the kid was so tight, which I suppose was to be expected. She hadn't even had her period yet, she was late to start, at least at the end of the normal time, so hadn't even had a tampon up there yet. But finally I perspire and persist and I was pretty well into the hilt. The hilt, you know, the top of my shaft, that's the hilt and fuck of all shit, I can feel my knob head banging into her cervix and then I settle in for the ride. I got my full weight latching into her by arching my body and then I started to jack-hammer her. And mom can feel every bang and thrust right into her heart because it's taking place right over her heart besides bashing her tits. Now wasn't that heartless of me?

       So fuck now, she's bleeding all over mom's chest and tits and she can see the blood seeping out of her kid around my bloodied cock and that was it. I mean, oh man, I grabbed onto mom's cunt and dug my fingernails into her clit, but she barely noticed. She only noticed how her kid was being ruptured and saw the exact moment I spunked her daughter. You want to talk about a primeval cry or just a plain evil one, I swear I sent gizzy right into her stomach. Right through her little womb into her belly. Right through her undeveloped uterus clear into her guts. So Chris, you got it? You got it now? Now she's fucked. She's a real woman, like you, and no longer a virgin.'

       I re-grouped my energy.

Page 52.

       'Tell me you got it, I want to be sure.'

       'What I got is that I'm going to kill you for what you did to her. That's what I got and you're getting.'

       'Oh yeah, you think that now. You want to do that now, wait till you hear the best part, the last part. Then you'll want to murder me using toothpicks.'

       'I'm going to use your gun to kill you. So be forewarned.'

       'Yeah, whatever. I look forward to it but for now, so I pulls out of her. I gets my bat out of her and I stuck a hat pin into her cunt. Not just into it, I found her clit, which didn't have much definition yet, but it was there, fuck it was there the day she was born, and I shoves the hat pin clear through it, side to side and then pulled out on it. It was all for good measure to show mom she should let up with the invective and then I realized I should have done it before I fucked her, but when you're a possessed madman in the throws of madness, you can't think of everything. But the thing was my boner was pretty well ready to go again. Even though I'd exploded inside her, my charges were all refueled and so I did just that. I clit fucked her with a hat pin shoved through her, and after that I could not get mom to co-operate any more. She had issues with my behavior and had some sort of seizure. She was sort of catatonic but I knew she was aware and planning how she was going to kill me, much like you are, sweets, and I knew she would kill me in a heart beat so she was becoming dangerous.

       A liability. A force to be reckoned with.

       At least that's how she saw herself and somehow snapped out of it and really went for my guilt, trying to trip it.

       But she was stupid. She had to know I wouldn't be insulted indefinitely and I warned her several time to give it up. Her kid was fucked and she'd let it happened so what was she going to do about it? If she'd been a better mother she would have stopped it.  She ranted some more and then I decided enough was enough and that was it. She should have fucking listened.

       I got the fucking torch and lit it. Mom thought it was for her. It wasn't. It had a wide copper soldering tip on it and I let it heat up for ten minutes while I just sat back and watched the two of them struggling and still tied like that but still trying to bond. Fuck they were still mother and daughter and that should count for something, but it wasn't going to help the kid's labia. I fucking burned them. Her lips. One after the other, right the length along and, of course the kid passed right out right away, but mom could smell the burning flesh and she had to watch it shrivel up and die. And I made her watch. I told her I'd go for the kid's cervix if she didn't. So what could she do, she had to see? But her eyes near exploded at the sight and the smell. And of course, my balls too. My balls were on fire. Not just the kids majora, my fucking nuts too. Great, great, great balls of fire. Magnificent cojones.'

       Chris screamed the most magnificent gutteral cry.

Page 53.

       'And that was pretty well that. I fucked the kid once more before I untied them. I had to smack her pretty good to get her to come to and I bit into one of her nipples as I gave her the next load. Fuck did she crunch and slice open nice. Mom screamed so much about it for so long, she just wouldn't quit so I finished her off. I kicked the labia out of her cunt and she didn't have any nipples when she died. And I mounted them for my growing collection.

       I killed her before she could kill me and it seemed to work. But I must say she was a trooper. She cursed, with the best of them, and swore at me with her dying breath and told me God was coming for me. I told her He was coming for her instead and let her know, for about an hour beforehand how I was going to lance her through her cervix and let her bleed to death. I used a big dull screw driver and it screwed and drove her good. I kept the kid for another month and she was so busted up she was barely a corpse any more. and that's how they both ended up there. So you see, that's the story. Now tell me, have you ever heard a story like that before?' I doubted anyone had.

       But God, what a fantastic tale and every word of it true. I did not have to embellish one little bit, so what was Chris to think about her own chances now?

       Whatever it was, she refused to talk to me anymore, at least for quite awhile but I was so worked up from telling her, I had to spunk her. There was no fucking way I could wait. A man with exploded testicles would not be a pretty sight. Maybe to the feminists and the anti-rape bunches, but certainly not to me.

       I never understood the crusaders against sexual violence. Why couldn't they mind their own fucking business? But then again, most of them were so fat or ugly they should have been thankful to have been raped, to have any man pay them attention. But the occasional really good looking one, now didn't that make for a prime target? An ironic target? Spend your waking days and nights railing against the pecker and get murdered by one. Fuck could life ever be sweet and just and I was just the one to prove the axiom.

       Chris could tell I was all rubbery and excited and I smelled like a rapist all set to do his thing (and hers - She just didn't know if it'd be in the ass hole or the cunt hole.)

Page 54.

       But she surprised me pleasantly. She rolled onto her back and spread her sweet legs even though one was shot. There it was for the taking. There she was for the having and I did the tooking. For fifteen minutes, to be exact, I was raping the teacher's kid again and it was just Chris supplying the hole. I bruised her cervix though, so she should get some credit for her sacrifice and acting as a stand-in or a lay-down for the kid. A surrogate. A surrogate cunt, that's what she was. And then I was done.

       'You were pleading with me about something, about wanting to keep on living. Did you want to keep on pleading?'

       How could I dismiss and demean the only course of action she had available to her now to offset me? Could I really be that heartless?

       She gave me the saddest, loneliest look possible. She was so deserted and alone and she just burst into tears. A whole flood of them to go along with her fears, spilled out of her and about, and then she just had to know.

       'You are going to kill me, aren't you? You're going to. I'll end up the same as them. You're going to murder me, aren't you and I'll never be found? My family will never know what happened to their mother and wife because you're going to have my life.'

       'Well, it's certainly in my hands, but it's in yours too.'

       I wanted to be reasonable with her for such a delicate subject that was dear to her heart, but dearer to my pecker, but I wasn't sure there was any further point in lying to her. But oh, what the hay, why not? Even though she knew what was coming and that was just that.

       It was time to get down and dirtier, to really fuck with her choices and hopes.

       'Do you want me to?' I said softly, like I realized the gravity of her question and how it related to the grave and the ones she'd just seen, and, of course, whatever her answer would be. That was important too, to her.

       'No. No, of course not. No I don't. Please. Please, I'll never want you to kill me. I want to go home. Back to my life. So why would you say?'

Page 55.

       She looked at me sort of getting all twisted up inside and then a train load of shit bricks hit her head on.

       'Oh no. No. No, never, no. Have other women asked you to kill them? Have they?' She paused to suck in a courageous deep breath, a ton of hot air, and then yelled it out at me, 'Have they? Tell me. You tell me.'

       I gave her the slightest affirmative nod and then she got it, and she got right into it.

       'You bastard. You inhuman monster. You hurt them so much they asked you to kill them?'

       'Not quite.' I gloated back at her.

       'What? No, why not?'

       'They didn't ask, OK. They begged.'

       Her face blanched like snow white.

       'And that's what you're going to do to me. Hurt me so much I'm going to beg to die?'

       I gave her a knowing look that said definitely, without uttering a word.

       'No. No, that can't be so. How can that be possible? How can this be happening to be. I don't want to beg.'

       'It's up to you if you actually beg. You can just ask me nicely, like in normal conversation. You don't have to get all emotional and weepy about it.'

       I fucking loved taunting her and diminishing the significance of her life and her death, to her.

       'No. No. Why. Why would I ask you?'

       'Oh, come on. I can think of lots of reasons. Can't you?'

       'No. No, It's not possible. What kind of reasons. Tell me one.'

       She really was a bitch for punishment.

       'OK, sure. How about, I'll tell you how. Why. How about I deconstruct your vagina, take the fucking thing apart one element at a time. Your outer labia off. Your inner labia gone. Your clit, your fucking G spot and your cervix? How about I make a collection of your sex parts. And your nipples. They go without saying. Your fucking nipples, you just know they'd have to come off. That should be self-evident to even the most rudimentary potential sex mutilation victim.'

Page 56.

       Her eyes hung open in incredulous disbelief and her mouth hung open even wider. I could see she was alarmed.

       'So do you want me to kill you now? I can put the rifle barrel into your cunt and blow your cervix out your belly button. That sound good to you? Crazy enough to you?'

       She was accepting much faster than I'd ever expected.

       'If you kill me, I don't want it to be that way.'

       'So? Why's that important. For now, for right now, that's the only choice available to you so either reconsider or we'll have to leave it for later then.'

       'But. No, I never meant now.' She replied softly.

       'But it'll only get worse then. Now, that's the only choice you have. The gun's right here and your cunt's there, so why don't we get the two of them together. Two bullets should do it, three for sure.' I said it like it would be a meeting of long lost friends.

       'Why don't I give you a few minutes to think about it, but let me say this. If you never believe anything else I tell you, then believe this; there's always worse. You may think it's not possible but I assure you it is. Do you get my meaning?'

       How could she not?

       'I just want to be fair with you so you can't say you weren't warned, so this is my warning to you, sort of like Paul Bernardo when he was about to fuck Kristen French for the first time and he's waving his bare cock all around in front of her scared face and he says, "Merry Christmas, this is my present to you." Yeah, sort of like that.  (See my story - A Christmas Editorial for the whole tale.)  So this is my warning to you, my unequivocal one. I can always hurt you worse. Whatever I'm doing, whatever you're experiencing and enduring, it can always be made worse.'

       I looked so proud and satisfied with all my abilities and expertise at that moment. I was the king of shit hill and she'd best not forget it, not ignore it, not ignore my dick's every whim. That was it, I had a whimsical dick I wanted to cunt whip her with.

Page 57.

       She may have just been raped, but her mind had just been tortured and her sensibilities mutilated. Everything she thought about life that mattered, that would keep her safe and protect her was gone, stripped away, if it'd really ever existed in the first place. And now all she had to bargain with was her sexuality and her sexual parts.

       But that was part of her biggest problem. I liked to keep sexual parts as trophies, the way some rapists/murderers collected panties and bras and hair samples of their victims. Now don't get me wrong, I'd keep that routine stuff, that run of the mill stuff also, but my mementos went way beyond such banalities.

       So where in the scheme of fairness and all that is just, did that leave Chris? A cuntless, nippleless cadaver who couldn't die when she wanted to because I was even lying about that. I'd never kill them when they begged me too, no matter how sincere they were or no matter how badly they needed it. I always did it on my own terms, in my own time which was usually days or weeks after they'd first start to cry out for it. Cry out for the mercy and the release of death.

       Some fine way for Chris, to end her charmed life, I thought, nippleless and cuntless. But I was the snake charmer and the python lived between my legs and the boa-constrictor encompassed my arms.

       You can't tell a woman a story like that, stuff like that and expect her brain to stay right. Certainly not right as rain and it was still raining and the thunder and lightning looked like they were on their way which would prove perfect for later.

       It was time to get her back, to get her into the house, for the first time, so she could have a look see. I'm sure she'd be interested. It was always interesting, even fascinating to watch how they looked all around, wide-eyed, as they nervously and with exquisite trepidation tried to assess their new surroundings. Did it look like any threat lived here? Were there signs of danger? When they should have known full well the real threat was behind them holding a gun pointed at them, as often as not.

Page 58.

       It was time to introduce her to her new accommodation and all the amenities that awaited her, like ropes and hooks and devices of every imaginable evil design, and some un-imaginable, and the bed, always the bed she'd be tied to and fucked upon, every which way but loose, and I'd sleep with her countless nights upon it and within her. Many times I'd fall asleep, right on top of them, with my pecker still inside a vagina after having just raped it. Now that was a bedtime story wet dream cum true.

       And besides, her calf was bleeding again worse and I had to bandage her proper. I didn't want her bleeding to death that way.

       As we finally came through the brush trail into the clearing that revealed the house and my car, she actually made a little run for it, but more like a gallop than a horse race. But she wasn't trying to run away, she was trying to run to. Like she was running to safety. I trotted along beside her, taunting her, 'go girl go', and as she got within ten feet of the front steps, I tripped her and she went tumbling, naked and almost rolling about and it was just so lovely to behold. I loved how her tits twisted to the side as much as they could, being so tight and all and, of course, if her legs spread open wide it was even more thrilling and titillating. I suppose a cheap thrill but I didn't need to afford any better. I could trip her anytime.

       I was quite satisfied to see her sprawled like that, ever naked and threatened and almost beaten down.

       Why did I have to do that? Hadn't she had enough? Been through enough? She thought so and let me know as she crawled right to the steps leading onto the porch. There were three of them and I stood her upright by raising her by her hair, I almost pulled a fistful out, and I shoved her into and up the stairs and she more fell to the doorway than stumbled. I jumped up like a pixie behind her and over her and got another good handful of her scalp and pulled her on into her new surroundings.

       She was across the threshold that would lead her to new, untold of, thresholds of pain.

       She was past the line of no return.

       She was across the line of her never returning.

       I glared her right in the face and told her, 'Now you're home, Chris. This is your new house and home and it'll be your last. Now it fucking starts.'

       She knew full well, whatever 'it' was, it would be a dread and her little frame shuttered and shivered.

Page 59.

       The first order of business was to get her to the bathroom to the toilet, and then to bandage her calf properly, and get her nicely showered and all spruced up squeaky ready.

       She was sort of stumbling and walking awkwardly from the ways I'd raped her. She was sort of bow-cunted and bow-assholed, and she wasn't eager, at all, to go forth on into my hide-away prison fortress, so she turned around to beg me.

       'Please. Please. Please, Jim, stop it. Let me go. I know everything's bad between us now but it's not entirely my fault, so just let me go. You said some horrible things to me and did some nasty things too, and you told me the most God awful story I've ever heard, so I've had enough. I don't want any more. You don't have to do anymore. Just let me go, please. Please.'

       'So you think you've had enough do you? But my cock hasn't had enough. It hasn't had enough of you, not by a long cum shot. And hey, that was a pretty long shot I took when I plugged you in the leg.'

       I was proud of my aim and aims.

       'You're lucky I aimed low. I could have given you a third hole in your cunt. Your pisser and your fucker and one full of lead. I don't imagine that would have gone over too well with you.' I chuckled out loud.

       'I can't listen to you anymore. Please give me a break.'

       Oh man, was she dumb. She really had to watch what she asked for, what she wished for, as they say, you might get it and it might come true. I couldn't resist the lead in.

       'Sure. You bet, I can do that, but you'll have to tell me what?'

       'Uh? What? What's that?'

       'You have to tell me what you want me to break.'

       'No. No, nothing. I didn't mean that and you know it. It's just an expression.'

       'Yeah, you're right, and that's one way I like to exercise my control over you, by breaking things of yours. Parts of your body, so I suppose you should chose yours, your expressions more carefully because now you have to tell me which bone or which part of you to break and now I want to tell you something else, Chris, you may not believe. You may not believe it, but if I have to chose, if you won't, your pubic bone can be shattered with a steel hammer, same as your tail bone can be, but I like the cunt one better.'

Page 60.

       After the horrors she'd just heard, she wasn't doubting my word on anything to do with injury, either foul or fair, or unfair.

       'But look OK, I'll do you a favor, you don't have to chose right now. We can leave that for later. We need to get you all cleaned up, scrubbed and polished and I do need to bandage your leg. I suppose I could break it instead, but that would be twice as mean and I'd say you deserve a rest. You've had a pretty full first day, up until now, wouldn't you say?'

       'I never thought this could happen to me. It's so unfair and I don't want to stay another day. So, please no. Don't clean me up, just let me go.'

       'For Christ's sake, get fucking real. You could be here a month or more, so get fucking real. You think I've done all of the things I want to do to you? Gone to all this trouble for a few romps in the woods? Get real. So you're staying as long as I want you as my guest.'

       'But I don't want to.'

       'But I don't care.' I mimicked her using the same tone back to her, like a faulty echo.

       'No please, spare me.'

       'Spare the rod and spoil the child? Is that it? How about I use my fucking rod to bugger you again, right here, right now?'

       'No. No, please, OK.'

       I had a good grip on my pecker and waved at her.

       'OK. Yes, clean me up.'

       'That's better, so get the fuck on up those stairs to the bathroom. You need to go and you need the bath and I want to bathe you. I'll scrub you myself.'

       For some, probably valid reasons, she had felt safer outside than she did inside now. She thought she'd been running to safety but now wasn't so sure. I supposed outside, someone might happen by unexpectedly, but inside she was out of sight, out of mind, like squirreled away, and she only had my mind to pay attention to her plight. That's what I so loved about having them kidnapped and hidden away to torture. Everyone was looking for them, but nobody was looking for me. How fucking perfect and just. There'd be newspaper clippings about Chris having gone missing, and rewards offered and all that useless shit, but there'd be none about me being a suspect. And I kept as many of the clipping as I could find and had an extensive collection, by now, for all my other never found victims.

Page 61.

       She just didn't want to go up the stairs, into oblivion, she thought, that's where they lead, to her being no where promising.

       'Please, I really don't want to go upstairs with you. Don't you have a washroom down here where I could go please?'

       'Yeah, there is but there's no tub and I told you I want to bathe you, get you all scrubbed and cleaned up and shinny like a bright new penny. And you are bright, aren't you Chris? You're not stupid.'

       'I don't want to please. I don't want to go up.'

       'Well then we could always go down. Down into the basement, but it's scary and not very well light. And it's damp and musty. You want to go down there instead?'

       I'd made is sound foreboding and she picked up on the movie script content of most bodies being buried or disposed of in creepy basements. It was 'B' movie schlock but it registered well with her fears.

       'Oh, no. Please I don't like basements. I never have ever since I was a little girl. A little kid. So no please, but I don't want to go up either. Why can't we just stay here? Let me go to the toilet here.'

       I paused for a moment to reflect and then it came to me.

       'Oh, I get it. How stupid of me. The beds. The bed. It's the bed. You figure the bed that's waiting for you is up there. Well sweetie, you couldn't be more right and it's a steel framed one, real sturdy and tough and I can tie you to it good. and you'll never pull it apart.'

       I gave her such a smug look I almost grinned.

       I didn't have to say 'spread eagled'. She just knew it instinctively, that's the only proper way for a woman to be tied naked to a bed. With her legs pulled so far east and west that her labia lips were separated and her clit hung out like a tongue.

       'No, that's not it.' She mewled and lied. 'Well maybe part of it. I just feel like I'll never come back down.'

       Now how was that for honesty? She was certainly to the heart of it and her intuition was in overdrive and on the exact correct track. Yes, sometimes she could be too honest and forthright. And just plain too right and she was far too beautiful not to massacre.

Page 62.

       

       'You mean you might not come back down alive, because for me to put you in the ground, like the others, you'd have to come back down then, wouldn't you?'

       'Stop it. Oh, just stop it please. Just give me some time to adjust then.'

       'Sure, I can do that and I've got just the stuff to keep you entertained while you try to get ready.'

       When she was trying to negotiate with me, while she had the gun on me and thought she had the tables turned, I'd retained my rights to the handcuffs and I had them still.

       'Come here. I need to fasten you and then I've got something to share with you.'

       I held the cuffs out in front of me and out in front of her too.

       She was pretty reluctant to be re-handcuffed but she knew by now her reluctance counted for zip with me. In fact it was such a turn on, seeing how far I'd have to go to overcome it. What level or new level of pain would motivate her? I just loved that she didn't want me to be doing what it was I was up to. It meant I controlled her and had all of the power, so she didn't hold out much hope she'd ever win, and held out her arms and wrists instead. I only  needed one arm and cuffed her to the stairs banister, one of the upright spindles and now that I had her like that I figured I might as well tidy up outside.

       I had the loose ends, mainly my car out in the open. I drove it into the out building where I kept the small back-hoe for my grave digging needs and took a needed long walk down to the end of the drive to lock the gate across the entrance. I needed the alone time to collect my plans for Chris and to get away from my relentless attacking and focus on her. Anyhow I was quite satisfied, no one knew I was there and should anyone happen by, there was no sign anyone was home.

       I took my sweet time because I knew I was going to freak her out good. I drifted back into my home and wandered to my trophy stash and selected some of the items from the teacher and her kid. I had enough stuff now it was almost a trophy room and I'd come to view it that way, like my private sanctuary.

Page 63.

       I liked to keep all my remembrances orderly and organized and I found the stuff I wanted in no time.

       I came back to Chris to play 'show and tell' and I figured there was no need to start soft. I'd kept both of the mom's nipples and one of the kid's too. I'd destroyed her other one too badly to keep it, burnt it to a crispy critter. But I had lots of good pictures of her when she was normal. Sort of BD and AD, before disfigurement and after disfigurement and all so logical and perfectly separated in my albums.

       I came back with some of the select goodies.

       I preferred to mount severed nipples (and other smaller body cunt parts) in clear acrylic to preserve them indefinitely and to keep them just as perfect as the day I cut them off to acquire them.

       (Clear Elegance, a floral arranging product works so

beautifully. Clear Elegance containing severed nipples. I'm

sure they never intended it for that use. I particularly liked their web page line, 'Clear Elegance arrangements will last a lifetime'.  That's what nipples were supposed to do. Weren't they?)

       Visit:     http://www.industrialpolymers.com/clear_elegance.html

       'Close your eyes. I want to give you a surprise, show

you one.'

       'No. No, I don't trust you. You'll probably punch me when I'm not looking or something. Or something worse.'

       I was going to mentally slug her, knock the spiritual crap out of her, but I had no plans to cold cock her at the moment. Hot cock her, any fucking time, any fucking place would do for that.

       'No, it's nothing like that. Just close your eyes and I'll put it in your hand gently.'

       'I'm sure you mean your penis, since you seem to think it's the greatest gift to women possible.'

       She was making fun of me, trying to be sarcastic and I liked that. It meant she still had nerve and spunk. And I just loved that line from the Mary Tyler Moore show (from 1970 to 1977) where Lou Grant says to Mary Richards, 'You've got spunk. I hate spunk.' And I'd sure as Hell would loved to have done Moore in her prime, in her heyday. From her Dick Van Dyke show days and on. What a spunk babe she would have made. Spunking a spunk babe, what could have been better?

       

       Visit:      http://www.classictvhits.com/shows/marytylermooreshow/pics/mtm03.jpg

Page 64.

       'No don't be gross. It's nothing like that, even though I'm thrilled you understand the importance of my cock to me. So just close your eyes and hold your hand out. I'll put it in your hand gently.'

       Ever so reluctantly she did and I handed her an acrylic cylinder about two inches in diameter and two inches tall, slightly tapered so I could get it out of the mould. It was nothing threatening or dangerous, totally innocuous. I placed it firmly, but softly, in her unsuspecting hand and her trusting brain was about to explode again.

       'OK. So open up. Look see.'

       She could see it was a clear plastic cylinder, but what was in it? What was imbedded in it like two flies in amber?

       'Oh my God. Uh? No. No. No, oh no.' And she threw it aside. I went to retrieve it and brought it right back to her, like a trained dog that goes fetch and stuck it under her twisted away nose.

       'No. No. No. How could you?'

       Inside, so nicely and neatly arranged, mom's nipples screamed out at her.

       'These belonged to the teacher and this one was the kid's.' And I showed her another cylinder about the same size with one lonely teenaged bud in it. I liked to keep the cylinders a uniform size for display purposes. So I was quite pleased to share my artistry in acrylic with her and her face was so convulsed in anguish and loathing I wasn't sure it would ever go back to looking happy again. I'd settle for just normal or normal fear but this was anguish beyond terror. Any doubts about my exaggerating or puffing up my escapades, and the big long story about the two of them, were sorely dispelled.

       'Wait, I've got more. Remember I told you about -deconstructing your cunt, isolating the elements to remove them, well..'

       She couldn't absorb it. Her brain would not allow it to sink all the way in and she passed out at the mere thought of seeing severed and mounted vaginal parts. So the big game hunters thought they'd created something impressive with their trophy walls, try a fucking clit collection you could fit in a cigar box.

Page 65.

       What kind of terror causes a woman to blank out when no violence or pain are involved? There had to be a medical explanation for it but whatever it was she was out cold, in the dark, like a light turned off. And that was fine, she could look at my collection of mother and daughter cunt parts later.

       So I bundled her up and carried her up the stairs and dumped her into the bath tub. I'd wait for her to come to there, and didn't care how long she wanted to rest. I just loved looking at her.

       But then I suppose I did care too. After half an hour of anticipation, my curiosity got the better of me and I got the smelling salts and revived her. What a fucking carry on, and this from a woman who'd already been severely traumatized and multiply raped. You'd think I'd shown her a beating heart or something gross instead of three dead nipples. She had no tolerance for gore.

       There's no accounting for reactions, I thought, especially fickle women's ones. But she wasn't flighty. She was the salt of the earth, dependable and with substance and she made herself a solemn promise, - I was really going to pay. But she'd keep it a secret from me, for the time being, until the time was right. She wouldn't out cry any more in outrage and would stifle her angst.

       And, of course, that was the flaw in her resolve. What if there never was a right time? What then? And she only assumed I had to make a mistake. That I had to be careless, if I kept her long enough, I had to goof. But she was so mistaken, when it came to me keeping my freedom and glorious way of life, I never ever took a single unnecessary chance or risk, so it would only be pure luck and chance that could rescue her and no organized effort. So she had to win the lottery to win and what were the odds? She may not have been stacked but they were sure stacked against her.

       So it just was not realistic for her expect to be rescued. In fact it was silly for her to contemplate and more than any other ingredient in my fantasies, realism was the paramount requirement. If it wasn't realistic, I wanted no part of it. I believe it's called the ring of truth, the sound of truth and the look of truth. So if that was absent, if that was gone, none of the rest mattered.

       And so too, that had to be present in my memoirs about my escapades.

Page 66.

       And Chris was realistically having a sexual breakdown now. She loved her nipples, even though her breasts were so small, but now she had to picture them cut off. What fucking beautiful woman wants to see that in her mind's eye? See her nipples mounted in acrylic?

       She loved her nipples and wanted to keep them. They were responsive and afforded her much sexual pleasure that focused itself into her clit. Her nipples and clit were connected and now they could well both be disconnected, out of service, because they were off body. Who had ever heard of such untenable tit shit before? What normal woman would hear such vile stuff? What good looking woman, who thought their bodies, their tits, were the be all and end all needed to do was read the rape story posting sites. Then they'd get the awakening they needed and not feel so powerful and superior because they had great knockers or strong vaginal muscles. Fucking right, have 'em all read and bleed and freak about it and protest in high dungeon language about political incorrectness.

       I looked into her angelic face and it was like she was gone. Completely out to lunch. Maybe I'd gone overboard too soon and should have left some of it for later.

       I wanted her to fight and she was barely anything other than rubber now. She seemed like mush.

       But it was an act and a pretty good one. She had me half fooled. She was as determined as any other human being could be that she was going to kill me and it became the only thing she wanted to live for. She swore to herself she would never beg me to kill her. She believed she wouldn't care, no matter what I did to her, she would never utter the words.

       She couldn't murder me if she was dead.

       She figured that all out on her own, through her haze and spinning range of emotions and it all became quite intoxicating how her resolve became her own worst enemy. What she needed to accept was that some other woman might get lucky and finish me off, but it would never be her and she'd never have the gratification of seeing it. And it all worked so beautifully to my favor, her misconceptions and determination.        

       Nothing stacks up against an obsessed woman on a mission to rid a man of his balls and de-dick his crotch. Man do they fuck superior, like the best. Do they ever get raped the best because they believe they least deserve it. Every fucking beautiful woman, in the fucking universe needs an uninvited cock shoving its head into her private business. Every power bitch needs the juice sucked right out of her and when she had no more lubricant that was the time to ram fuck her.

Page 67.

       And now of all things, Chris was hardening.

       Here I was showing her severed nipples, and hers were having erections. How fucking convenient, for me, I thought and she was afraid I'd notice. Like really notice and get the clippers or the scalpels out.

       But the thing was, I could smell her hatred towards me and it didn't scare me in the least, it fueled me. Like I was already a flaming homicidal, psychopathic murdering sex fiend and she was adding to the blaze, the conflagration and the concentration.

       She was dumb.

                And was about to be struck dumb.

       She thought she was smart.

       But if she was smart, she would have kept her nipples in their place, soft and supple and not so noticeable.

       She was stupid, sexually stupid because there was nothing I wouldn't do to her sex parts and I didn't care if she kept them or not. She just thought they were valuable - to her.

       There was always another cunt and set of nipples around the next corner. I had an endless supply of product, and the modelling agencies and small retail shops and shopping malls were my bountiful happy hunting grounds. (Have you ever noticed how many little shops are manned (ha ha) by women alone. And the owner operators, like they're there at all hours and if their little  (pathetic) business is struggling, they very often cannot afford any help so they are ripe for the grabbing. And always their stores have more deserted back entrances where the big bad wolf can come calling or do his spiriting away. I loved posing as a shopper and casing their joint and even suggesting, in a concerned voice, that they didn't seem to be very safe there. And sounding so sympathetic and concerned they'd often reveal what precautions, if any, they had in place against being kidnapped and tortured and murdered. Of course, they thought the precautions were just to prevent a robbery or something harmless like that. Like they'd have to give up their cash and not their lives.

       Fools.

       Fucking cunt fools all, deserved to be bashed.

       Stupid little deluded entrepreneurs, just waiting for it.

Page 68.

       While she was unconscious, I thought it best I attend to her leg wound. It was easy to drape her leg over the side of the tub to get at her injury. The bullet had ricochet off her bone, but hadn't splintered it and had gone right on through her calf muscle. The wound was clean and tidy since I was only using twenty-two short ammo that packed no where near the punch of twenty-two long rifle shells. The less the energy the less the destruction to tissue and flesh, or so the physics lesson goes. Now hollow points, which were pretty easy to make using a fine drill, fuck could they shred flesh into confetti. Explode upon impact into a hundred little pieces and then continue tearing their ways on through. But for now, the least destructive of my twenty-two ammo arsenal was good enough for her. I used an Elastoplast bandage, like the athletes used and wrapped her good and tight. The bandage was waterproof so I could get everything ready to bathe her now that she was all fixed up.

       I decided to have the bath with her and it was the worst decision I'd made so far to do with having Chris. It all went so horribly wrong - and right. I'd scrub her while we shared the bath water. I filled the tub to a good three-quarters and she started to float a bit so I got on in with her to keep her from rolling over face down, and possibly drowning.

       I got under her, behind her, pulled her up so her bum was nestled in my crotch and wrapped my arm around her tits. I tipped her head back onto my shoulder to wait for her to come too. I kissed her neck and the side of her head and twisted her lips up to meet mine. I liked kissing Chris, and often thought I wouldn't have minded just making love to her, or even having her for a wife, if I hadn't been so set on raping her. But then the intercourse was so secondary to the torturing, it would never have worked out. Her agreeing to be tortured and mutilated and all was so unlikely. She would have reared up pretty fast as she was about to do anyway.

       In about fifteen minutes, she stirred and then kicked the water, like she was trying to swim in a wading pool. She was soaking my bathroom floor which I wasn't pleased about. It was newly shellacked, honey-golden colored, hundred year old pine planks and I wanted to keep it nice.

Page 69.

       I forced my forearm hard into her throat and growled into her ear, 'Settle the fuck down. You're splashing water everywhere and I don't like it. I'll fucking choke you if you don't stop.'

       She gave a couple of more splashing thrashes and then cooled it. Her neck was compressed so flat she was afraid I'd crush it.

       'That's better. What's the matter with you, anyway? I'm not hurting you and we're just going to have a bath together so I can get you all nice and clean so you can have sex with me.'

       She spat back at me, 'You do not have sex with me. You take sex. You steal it and you're nothing but a common thief.'

       A sex thief, I liked that. How original. But not the common part though. Geeze she was perceptive and bright. Right on, Chris, give me some more of your wisdom and insights and, of course, your cunt juice (CJ).

       I could get her so wet, I wondered if I could bottle it. I knew it was done with lactating women's breast milk and orange juice (OJ) but CJ, man that would be something to explore and bring to market. But she wasn't up for it and would have no part of my silly money making schemes.

       'I don't think I'm common at all. and I've been considerate. Look, I fixed your leg. The bone wasn't damaged. I was afraid it might be and I bandaged you good with the elastic one. Look see.'

       She raised her sweet, soaking leg above the water level and inspected my triage effort. She seemed satisfied but wasn't pleased about me having my boner against her backside in the tub. She tried to twist sideways a bit to get off my knob's poke and even pull forward a bit, but I grabbed on to her tits nicely and compressed her nipples to my palms. They were hard but they didn't hurt me. She really couldn't escape in any direction.

       I had some Ivory soap, the one that floats, in my hands and I was washing and soaping her shoulders. She tried to get the soap from me to do it herself.

       'No. No I want to. I like doing it. You feel so nice and now you're cleaner, getting all ready for some nice dirty sex.'

Page 70.

       She didn't protest too much more as I finished her shoulders and back and her sides above the water. Then it was time to shine her tits and that wasn't her forte. I started to squeeze and massage her, pinching her slippery nipples out and soaping her up good. I got her breasts spotless and then went for her vagina, to shove the bar of soap into her canal, maybe wash her cervix too.

       And she revolted.

       Like I was doing something nasty or dirty or untoward.

       It was just a fucking slippery smooth bar of wet soap. It wasn't a jagged broken bottle or a blow torch or anything else mean and effective.

       I'd removed the handcuffs long before, when I'd carried her up the stairs unconscious.

       She managed to twist away from me, to the side of the tub,  and tried to wind-mill arm me with little slaps that were fast becoming punches, all to get me to stop. I held my forearm up to deflect her rain of blows and then saw a clear path, like an opening in her position. I slugged her hard in her stretched, exposed breast. I swear I cracked a rib underneath. She flopped forward gasping for relief from the shock and I pushed her head back, by her chin, and she was half leaning over the side of the tub, arched way up now. Her tit was even tighter than before, like a tomato's skin, the way it was stretched to her skeleton and I fucking had to elbow her. I could not resist. She gave a little up gasp and slowly slipped and sank below the water's surface. I knew I'd split lots of the little milk sacks and lobules she kept inside her tit which is pretty well what happens when you rupture one.

       I rolled her onto her side, keeping her nose just above the drowning line and then flipped her onto her front so she was lying along me unconscious in the tub. She was nicely arched upwards and my cock had no trouble finding her vaginal canal even though our genitals were meeting all underwater. I wriggled and jiggled her onto my spit and in about three minutes jizzed her underwater. I pushed her way up, under her armpits as I came in her and forced my thumbs way into her tits. I forced her nipples to sink into her chest, between her ribs and I swear I almost pushed them clear out her back. Then I just let her flop down and stay pined to me until she revived again.

Page 71.

        When she did, she tried to jerk herself off my cock, not like jerk it off, but to get herself un-impaled from it. I was still moderately firm and she couldn't jerk free and all she was succeeding in doing was hardening me more and finally enough I could pump inside her again. As I did, she fought and we ended up slipping and rolling within the tub until she was on the bottom, underneath me and I was pining her, not only with my boner, but my hands were forcing her shoulders to the tub bottom and her head would sink under too and she'd thrash to get back up for some air and then go dive back under. The thing was she was getting a lung full of water each time and what a fucking spectacular way to fuck her, her thrashing while she was trying to hold her breath to keep the water out, but her eyes were opened so wide, just pleading with me to let up on her and not sink her. I was drowning her. I wasn't just raping her, I was sinking her at the same time and killing her.

       But it wasn't intentional. I figured she could stand it. I'm not quite sure what happened, because it was so purely unintentional, maybe she even had a fucking heart attack or seizure or something. All I know is she took a few good lung fulls of water into herself and then started to cough and spasm and then went completely limp. I kept banging her for a bit more, maybe a dozen good thrusts and then sensed she wasn't fooling around or playing possum or playing dead. She fucking might be dead. She was completely limp and unresponsive, to my commands to wake up.

       'Wake up Chris. You fucking wake up. Don't you die on me, it's too soon, you fucking bitch. It's much too soon.'

       But it wasn't for her.

       And I sometimes wondered if she'd committed suicide.

       I jumped up out of the tub and yanked her out by her hair and got her flat on her back on to the floor for CPR. I smacked her and winded her and mashed on her chest, on her sweet tits, but she didn't want to come back to me, or my abuses. I was really surprised she'd died and didn't feel I'd really had that much to do with it. Fuck what a gyp. I wasn't even started on her and she was gone but I figured I still had a few hours to mess with her before the rigor mortise stuff set in, for good, in earnest. (Usually four hours is about average.) She'd crapped and pissed herself when she went, which was petty normal, so I had to clean that and her up first.

Page 72.

       Fucking Chris, I'd make her pay. Her mind may have been gone but I still had her body and her form and I'd mess her up good. Fucking Chris, didn't want to be mutilated when she was alive but she didn't say anything about if she was dead.

       The first thing I needed to do was get some good pictures of her. The kind I'd told her I needed for the Russian mob, but just wanted for myself, but I have to say it wasn't the easiest thing getting a corpse to hold just the right pose.

       I carried her along the hall, like a sleeping beauty, to the bed I had waiting for her. I tossed her onto it and she stayed in the exact same position she'd landed in. It was spooky, eerie. I kept expecting her to move, to make some kind of play for it, but she never even budged a hair. I rolled her flat and spread her legs and got lots of crotch shots, some with my thumb jammed in her and others with a lead pipe shoved six inches into her useless canal. It didn't matter if I ruptured her cervix, it wouldn't bleed now, not even a little. She needed the bloody blood pump going for that.

       I decided to fist beat her cunt to see if I could split her labia open. I arched her nicely with a big pillow shoved under her stiff, tight ass and lined my knuckles up for the first good slug. I swear I knocked a knuckle full of pubic hair right out of her lips. I drove her again and while her whole crotch convulsed, she didn't even stir. Stupid bitch, didn't she care what I was doing to her tender womanhood, even if it was postmortem? The thing was her lips weren't swelling at all, so they looked just as good as the first time I whacked her. I punched her three more hard jabs, in quick succession, and my fist hurt. I'd hurt my fist punching a woman's cunt.  It hurt me a lot more than it hurt her, but not if she'd been alive for it. I needed a stronger hit. I found out my tool selection and went for a four pound ball peen hammer pounder. No fucking question I could split her labia, all four of them with that, and probably all at once. Two birds with one stone, four lips with one whack, so much better and original. I thought.

Page 73.

       I gave her a nice kiss, and whispered into her deaf ear, 'So sweet baby, this is it. Time to say goodbye to your cunt. I'm sure it served you well but it's going to serve me even better. I know it meant everything to you, that it was your womanhood. That you identified with it as your source of femininity, but now it's going to Hell. Come here pussy, pussy. Good pussy.'

       With that stupid little prayer, I shattered her pubic bone. I mean, it was in four or five splinters and her lips were a gaping sore. I aimed at a different angle and pulverized her cunt bone some more. I hit her like I was driving a rail road spike, or was a blacksmith battering a hapless piece of glowing horseshoe iron.

       I hit her again from another perspective and figured I'd better let up a bit while there was still some semblance of a cunt left to fuck.

       Her sweet breasts were so pure and defenceless and her breast plate hard as a piece of steel but delicate as glass and I cracked it in two using the peen end (the little round ball end) of the hammer. It left a perfect egg cup impression between her tits and I wanted to do the same thing to at least one of her areolas. I smacked her nipple so hard it got pushed down in between her tit ribs and stayed there. It wouldn't pop back up. Talk about your inverted nipples, it gave a whole new meaning to the deformity and malady. (Although personally I loved inverted nipples. The fish hooks did so much a better job of tearing them, first out and then apart. What a perfect way to un-invert, to convert, inverted ones, to help them see the light of day.)

       I had to sort of boost Chris to angle her cunt for her last rape. She was cooling off a bit, but not enough to matter and I shoved my cock unto the mush mess I'd created down there and her canal was not flexible, so it gave me an extra good grind and it didn't take long to spunk her again. I didn't waste anymore time laying about inside her and pulled her up by the hair to get her vertical.

       I quickly wrapped a noose around her sweet throat and hung her. I pulled her right up off her feet as if that mattered anymore. I put about twenty, twenty-two slugs into her from about ten feet away, but then that got sort of boring, since I could never miss. She looked like a punctured pin cushion with all the little un-bloody entry holes. Most of the slugs stayed in her, although two came out her back and made a bit bigger, ragged exit hole.

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       I decided to use a half dozen hollow points on her. I figured I'd use one breast as my target. The thing was after four blasts, the tit was minced meat, areola and nipple and all. It was like I was using buck shot and the little particles would hit the ribs underneath and bounce back, shredding her both going in and returning.

       She had the dumbest look on her dead-panned face that just seemed to go with how her breast was being massacred. I figured what would two or three of the hollow points hurt, shot into her vagina, or at least, what was left of it. So less was left of it when the bullets exploded into her cavity and I hammered her again a few good aims just to finish that part of her off for good. I figured I could get one more spunk-go out of her asshole and that would be it. No more of Chris to rape.

       She was getting cooler and stiffer.

       I got her down and flopped over the raised foot board of the bed. I didn't have to tie her ankles but did so anyway for the visual effect. I went back up to check her chest and her one tit was obliterated but the other one still had her nipple shoved in between her ribs and I yanked on it all around her areola to free it up. Out it slid and it looked pretty well normal. Back down to her legs, I pried her ass so far apart, with two hands, her pucker opened all by itself and a good fart stink came out. I'd expected her to shit herself again but the position she was in must have prevented it. Shit didn't run uphill, I supposed.

       I pulled way back on her hair and her sweet head almost twisted back to her waist. And I reached around to her front and I had a fixed blade knife, about four inches of cutting ability and got the point to her nipple.

       I shoved into her rectum and banged away like a banshee, like I was trying to waken her from the dead, and all the time I pumped, I increased the pressure on the knife tip to her nipple tip, and about half way through my final act of buggering her, I could feel it puncture. I kept on slowly sinking it into her, not roughly, until I was ready to cum and then I thrust it and twisted it and fucking yanked down on it like I was trying to cut her chest cavity open through her nipple.

Page 75.

       I didn't succeed downward because of the strength of her rib bones, but I did succeed sideways, following along between two ribs. I gave her a four inch wide, four inch deep cut and was quite pleased with my butchering skills. She was cut from the valley side of her nipple, clear through the center and pretty well down to her arm pit level, but lower. It was so fucking perfect. I didn't have much time to mess with her further, not while she still seemed as if she could still be alive, but was only sleeping.

       I don't believe there was much I'd ever enjoyed more than when I was fighting with Jenny, in one of my previous accounts, part two of Smashing Perfection (start page 40.) and specifically when I was throwing her down the stairs. It was just such a turn on to see a naked, beautiful woman cart wheeling and somersaulting and crashing down to the bottom landing. I figured I could get a few decent thrills throwing Chris's lifeless, naked body down likewise.

       I gripped her hard, under the arm pits, and dragged her like you would a corpse, if you were going to bury it in the woods, and I got her to the landing at the top of the stairs. I hiked her right up so her dead wide open eyes were locked onto my fully alive and excited ones and I gave her a tender kiss and sent her on her way, off and down backwards. I launched her like a space ship.

       Talk about death throws.

       Now I remembered well why I loved it so much. She rolled like an octopus, all arms and legs swinging out as if she was flailing, but she'd have to be alive to flail. I suppose it was the momentum or centrifugal force that thrust her limbs outward, but she twisted in on herself and ended up like a wrecked car that had flipped a few times. Her one foot was to her head and the other one was jammed, or more like propped up against the banister, like her crotch was spread about a hundred and eighty degrees open. A ballerina couldn't have done better splits.

       Her head was lolled way back at an unnatural angle. It was like she'd broken her neck and her sweet mouth was open but crooked and she needed to be kissed roughly. So I went down about half way and did a sky dive right on top of her. I had so much velocity, I crashed onto her and kept on going until I smashed my head to the wall at the bottom. It hurt and I was a bit woozy but I started to laugh and then was almost laughing hysterically. I'd banged my head banging into the bitch which seemed like justice for her. That I was getting some of my own back.

Page 76.

       I fucking loved it so much, it was making me like a giddy madman. I hauled her back up to the top by one leg, at the ankle, and she bump, bump, bumped her way, all the way up the stairs, on her sweet ass. Her chest, what was left of it, tried to bump along too, to the beat.

       I got her to the top landing and I dumped her there because I had a better idea. A much better one, like target practice, but in reverse.

       I had a good supply of twelve inch galvanized spiral spikes. Go to any Home Depot or most hardware stores and they're quite common to find. I had lots of scrap lumber. I never threw away anything of value and I found a piece of two inch by ten inch pine about a foot long. I sharpened the spike end with my handy little grinder, until it was almost knitting needle sharp, and drove it all the way through about the center of the wood and it stuck out about ten inches, like those things for collecting odd pieces of paper you see on old desks, but much, more larger and lethal. I placed it right in the center of the landing at the bottom, like a perpendicular spit and I aimed Chris for it as I tossed her down the flight again.

       She would have no part of being stabbed or skewered postmortem, by the spike. She flopped off to the left and flipped right over the banister, at the side. I must say it was unexpected and spectacular and as if her body had decided to avoid being punctured. I got down to see what new damage I'd caused her and she was a pretzel again even though she was on the completely flat floor and her leg was bent back at the knee, at more than a right angle, so I figured I'd broken her knee or dislocated it.

       It didn't matter. I couldn't have posed her better if I'd tried and I had to get lots of digital still pictures. Her elbow was twisted out much like her knee and I stamped on it to hear it crunch. Her arms were thin and frail, she was small boned and it all snapped, crackled and popped like small branches in the forest making loud snapping sounds for the boot.

       This woman was severely compromised.

       Now, her skeleton too.

Page 77.

       I retrieved my spike invention and held the point to her vagina. I could have rammed it ten inches into her but that didn't seem very sporting, sort of like shooting a hibernating bear hunkered alone in its cave. I carted her back up to the top of the landing, like for three times lucky, and centered the spike about the same position, awaiting her at the bottom. This time I turned  her to face falling down, like she would to walk down the stairs. Her sweet dead ass was to my bare cock and I shoved my prick head into her anus a bit. I gave her a few pelvic thrusts from behind, hiked her up and shoved her out with a good hard hip thrust to send her down for her next trip. And trip and sprawl she did.  It was like for a moment she was flying, and then she crashed full face down onto the stair treads, did one magnificent tumble and landed square on the spike point. It must have gone between her ribs because it shot out her back. She was fucking pierced. Now you want to talk about body piercing, fuck this was for real. It was through and through with about two inches of the spike point showing out of her finely sculptured back just off from the center of her shoulder blade.

       Some occurrences take the cake and this was one of them. As best I could tell, the fucking nail was right thought her sweet silent heart. I nailed her heart like I'd shot an arrow at her but it was just the opposite. I shot her at the arrow with exquisite aim.

       If I'd used a nail gun I couldn't have aimed it better. I suppose some aims are just meant to be met.

       I crouched down over her to get her turned onto her side so I could see from the front and the flat wood piece was plastered to her even flatter chest. It was the most erotic sight and I just had to have more of it. I got my electric drill and drilled four holes in the wood about two inches out from the spike to from sort of a square pattern. The hole diameters were just slightly smaller than the nail diameters. I got me a good heavy hammer and placed another spike into the first guide hole and slugged the head. They were all sharpened like the first one. It went in her maybe three inches and I had to bash it four more times to get it to stick right out of her back, to match the one already there.

Page 78.

       So, I had three more to go and talk about pounding nails, or pounding the meat, what a fucking disaster I made of her breast area, on that side. These were forty-four magnum holes, not little twenty-two pee shooter ones. These were like cannon blasts.

       The furthest hole in, had sent the spike right through her breast plate and I really had to bash the nail's head to make it come out her back too. I'd elevated her back so the nails wouldn't be stopped by the floor from going right on through and so she wouldn't be literally nailed to the floor. Now I flipped her over  and there was the precise geometric pattern I'd drilled in the board sticking out of her shoulder blade and a bit in and lower.

       No fucking way I was getting that thing detached from her unless I cut her apart like they do in the slaughter houses or the chainsaw massacre movies.

       I wasn't sure I was up for that yet, but I'd give it some thought. Even I had my limitations, I thought.

       I'd brought a bunch more spikes with me, like extras in case I ran short, so I put one to her forehead around dead center between her lovely eyes and whacked it into her skull. I sunk it five inches the first wail and another five inches the second go. I guess it went through her brain matter, she was sure brain dead now, I chuckled to myself and it stopped at her skull at the back, but on the inside still. I knew I could drive it out the back through the base but left it. No need to debase her that way, I thought magnanimously.

       She looked like she'd been crucified between the eyes and she'd been a pretty devout practicing Christian so I supposed it had some special significance for her.

       I put another spike to her tit. The one I'd blasted and figured approximately where her areola had been and drove it out her back to join the others. Because it wasn't going through a two inch thick piece of wood, it stuck two inches further out her backside.

       I wasn't sure if skeleton smashing or bashing was a recognized sport, like a recognized deviant sexual behavior but it suited me just fine. Her shape was still covering her bones so it was like I was splintering a mannequin. But then too, it was fairly tiring, all the bone crunching regalia and it was pretty well time to be done with her and ease up on the extensive corpse bashing. I knew full well she couldn't feel any of it but I liked to think she could, fantasize that she could, like in the romantic after life stories, watching her beauty being here-to-for desecrated and disrespected. So the thing now was to dispense with her crotch and then all would be complete.

Page 79.

       Funny how all things just come together sometimes.

       It was raining harder and the thunder and lightning had started in earnest. It was like one of those Vincent Price horror movies and even just as stereotypical, but perfect, and was not my intended final act for Chris, but it was too good to pass up and I'd always been curious.

       Two years earlier, the roads department had widened the highway about two miles off from where my hideaway was, and it went right through rock cuts. It was a slow job that needed lots of blasting. I got to know one of the explosion guys, it was a private sub-contractor, and he showed me how to use the stuff. I told him I had some stumps to remove and slipped him two hundred bucks and he returned me with forty sticks of basic dynamite and blasting caps and all the rest I needed to make it work. Plus, as I said, he showed me how to do it safely and he even told me not to have my mouth open when the blast went off. Something to do with the concussion, the shock wave getting to the inner ear from inside an open mouth. I took his word for it and never tried it to find out.

       As hard as it may be to believe, there's actually a summer camp (where else but in the good old U.S. of A. in the Missouri Ozarks) where boys can go to blow up things. They learn how to use dynamite and one fucker even took to blowing up chickens, and I'm not sure all of them were even dead.

       His brief account reads, "Blowing up the chicken was good. It flew - forced bits of chicken guts to fly like 40 to 50 feet."

       Visit:      http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=11226636

        So fuck. Why not?

        She was good for it still.

       A stick in the cunt and see what remained of her labia.

       And the thunder was providing the perfect cover about every minute now. It took me fifteen minutes to drag her outside, far enough away she wouldn't blow up my house, or maybe her flying cunt parts break my windows. I carefully inserted a standard ten inch, one inch diameter red stick full into her womb. I just rammed a lead pipe into her to break everything loose, to break it all free and then the big firecracker just slid on in. I made all the connections and got back about twenty feet behind a big tree for safety. I was sort of giddy, but sort of afraid too, since I didn't know exactly what to expect, and as the thunder cracked and reported, I cracked the switch.

       She had always been small, but now Chris was half sized. Pint sized. Half a woman. One of her fucking ankles and foot whizzed by and lodged in a tree behind me. I'd have to climb up twenty feet to get it back, but later. She ended at the waist now. She had no 'down there'. A piece of leg bone was way off to the side and the concussion had twisted the spike board that was still attached to her, it twisted inside her chest and she was torn apart there too, like a ragdoll a pit bull got hold of and shook the stuffings out of. Surprisingly, her sweet face wasn't damaged much.

Page 80.

       Part of the mixed blessing of having absolute freedom to torture and misuse a woman at will, is not having to stop for anything, or stop anything. Not having any constraints or guidelines or boundaries. There was no one watching so there was no one seeing, so I had nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to inhibit me. If I wanted to put another dynamite stick into her mouth to blow her perfect white teeth all over Hell's acre and a half, that's what I could do. If I wanted to. Even if I didn't want to and got carried away, I could just the same.

       I loved Chris's angelic face, even in death she was beautiful. Even with the twisted expression of horror that was her last look.

       But then too, once an idea found me, it was always reluctant to leave, at least not quietly, and in this case with a roar. If I blew her head up, I assume what remained of her upper body would pretty well disappear too, like vaporize. I don't know why I struggled with myself since I pretty well knew I always lost and the more outrageous impulses always reared and re-reared their fantastic heads.

       Blow her fucking skull up. Fucking bitch would stop complaining and whining then. She'd stop looking so helpless and pleading then.

       I needed a drink.

       I wasn't a heavy drinker at all. What did I need booze for to escape when I had my torturing activities? I was barely a social drinker unless I was using the date rape drug on an unsuspecting, seemingly casual acquaintance. If she was getting the drug, she was far from a casual victim. I must say though, the beauty of the roofies was that they didn't know they were kidnapping victims until they regained awareness, usually tied naked, spread eagled to my special torture bed. And I could video record their very first understandings, right from the first moment. The moment of realization that they were helpless sex victims. How fucking sweet was that? Oh, the outrage at the beginning, giving away to inner rage as the abuses unfolded in the folds of their labias.

Page 81.

       There was no one to stop me and I wasn't given to stopping myself. I was more given to giving into myself.

       But did I really want her brains in the tree tops or her teeth imbedded in the tree trunks.

       I suppose the freedom, the lack of constraints, all provided for such a moral vacuum that something decidedly anti-moral had to fill the void. Anyhow, even half a dozen good stiff drinks, a record for me at one time, couldn't dissuade or derail me from the idea. I'm not sure why exploding her head seemed worse to me than obliterating her crotch and cunt but it did. Maybe because that's where her hopes once had lived.

       I was good to go, but I still needed a better souvenir of her besides her clothes and the relatively small number of pictures I had of her. They numbered in the low hundreds when I usually had thousands. Ah, the beauty of high capacity digital camera memory cards.

       I figured there must be something left of her chest, if I pried the spiked board out of her. It'd been loosened by the first blast and there wasn't any extra blood so I needed to take a look see.

       I stood my boots on her shoulders and pried the apparatus straight out of her slowly. I was unseating five spikes at once so I had to tug really hard but it jolted free after about a five minute effort. I must say her breast was a chewed up mess, but most of that nipple was still somewhat visible. I extracted the spike from her other breast and wiped her demolished chest area clean.

       It didn't look so bad now, and if I skinned her, I could keep the whole area as a memento, like a reminder.  Fuck I could even frame it, after I preserved it in the acrylic I used for my nipple and genital parts collections.

       The thing was, there was so little breast tissue behind her nipples I figured I could skin her chest and keep both tits together, like not separate them, along with her valley inbetween. Sure there was lots of damage and punctures but it made her all the more visually pleasing and erotic to remember then.

Page 82.

       I got my surgical instruments, I'd bought years ago, at an auction, and I used a slicing scalpel to cut through her skin following the lower contours of her two tits  and then up the side and across the top of her pectoral muscles, dipping down a bit into her valley and then up and around the top of her other tit and finally down the side to join up with where I'd started. I cut good and deep to be sure she wouldn't try to hold fast anywhere. Then I used a razor sharp boning knife and skinned the whole matter off and lifted it clear like a sheet, or a cut of beef, with two buggered jugs attached. Essentially it was shaped like an 8 with a thick middle part. I'd have to make a special form and use lots of the clear acrylic to preserve that trophy and I could hardly wait to get started doing it. I loved some arts and crafts and this was surely the ultimate. And the thing was I'd be able to hang her on the wall like a framed picture.

       So now I was good to go.

       I stuck an extra stick in her sweet mouth for good measure. I figured her skull would be special hard and I took cover again and set the blast a blasting. It's good I did, take cover that is, as I swear her fucking teeth, some of them were like individual bullets and one could have put my eye out.

       I though I saw one of her eyeballs sailing by, flying past giving me a last dirty look, like the evil eye, but that was highly unlikely since there was so much concussion, all the soft tissue was pureed and the bone matter shattered like smashing a light bulb and then pounding the shards with a sledge hammer.

       Double the sticks. Double the kicks.

       Talk about overkill.

       And that, most definitely, was the end for Chris.

       She was the only one I didn't have to bury.