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Chapter 2. Re-turning the Tables.
Page 2-1.
Shit was I in trouble, big time.
I mean, it all was on the line and I couldn't believe how unlucky I'd been. Actually that wasn't quite accurate, the bitch had gotten extra lucky. It wasn't on my side of the luck fence. It was on hers and I didn't see it coming at all. Up until then, I'd figured she'd been pretty unlucky running into me. That went for all of them, each of my previous victims. If they looked really good, and had the right body and attitude, they didn't want to cross my path, ever.
I suppose I deserved my predicament, but not wholly. I could have booted her in the twat. I had a clear shot, but it flashed through my mind, at that point, as we were still wrestling for control, for dominance, I didn't want her all bruised and swollen the first time I examined her or stuck it in her. So I guess it wasn't all altruistic on my part either. I had a motive but I should have cunt kicked her to rupture her when I had the chance because then I didn't anymore(have the chance). So look what became of being almost a nice guy. There I was trussed up in her fireplace, behind the steel bed-stead, with the phone cord around my ankles and my wrists, at the back, and pulled tightly around my neck too.
Trussed, that was the exact word and I'd done lots of that to all the others so now it seemed to be my turn. Like that Kharma shit, or something.
But mostly it was my eyes. They burned and were almost swollen shut and I couldn't see but a blur. And my head and face hurt too where she'd whacked me with the hot kettle. So how lucky could she be? I wasn't at all worried as we fought tooth and nail, as we twisted and pulled and flopped on the floor as she struggled to break away from me. In fact, I loved it, the fight in her, every twist and scream. I was easily forty pounds more her weight which she was about one hundred and ten and was five foot eight. I worked out, (so did she) so I was strong for my size besides I wasn't at all adverse to mean, gratuitous violence which I was certain she knew little if nothing about. I knew I could have knocked her out cold anytime with one punch up the side of her pretty little head. I didn't want to bash her in the mouth, in her face, since that could make her sort of ugly and distorted and a little bit purple.
Page 2-2.
I mean, bruises can be beautiful but they have to be in the right places. I could have cold-cocked her anytime and layed her out flat. (I'd done it before. One hard fist to the temple.) Her resistance and fierce, for-her-life, fighting were a major turn on. I loved slapping her and clawing at her and pulling her along the floor, first by her ankle, which hiked her skirt right up over her ass, and then by her hair. I'd had some pretty good feels as we struggled but they were mostly accidental. I wanted that to be deliberate and slow when I got around to it, which she knew because that's what I'd wanted before, at her car, and I'd be looking to get it again only more.
So, I had her face down on the floor with my foot pressed hard into the small of her back, right on her spine, and I pulled her head way back by her hair and her throat. She choked and gasped for air and I started to twist her onto her side and back so I could get a good look at her tits, which were half out and maybe go in for the first bite even though her clothes, the negligee I'd forced her to put on in her bedroom, was still on, sort of pulled aside and ripped but pretty well mostly, you could say, she was still wearing it. But her skirt was up above her hips and her panties were thin enough I could see her bush through. She wasn't shaved. It all was distracting me and I was seeing with my pecker's eye instead of my brain. I got on to her and kissed her and controlled her face. I forced her to say she loved me and, get this, that she wanted to make love with me. I buried my face into her cleavage and could feel her nipples hard against my cheeks.
Well shit. Who would have thought? When we knocked over a small storage cart and all the stuff spilled out over the floor, a spray can of bug killer rolled right to where she could reach it. I was so focused on the way her crotch twisted and her labia almost poked out as she struggled and yelled but next I was kissing her and getting ready for the penetration when I didn't see it coming at all.
Stupid careless degenerate fucker, I was.
She snagged onto the spray can.
She got me a short blast into both eyes. It stung like a red-hot poker (always good for cunts) and as I went to rub my eyelids, she let me have a much longer, closer blast that got into my nose too. I couldn't breath nor see and I was fairly stunned. I managed to stand but couldn't fight for shit. Next thing I knew she slugged me with a hot kettle. I reeled until she hit me much harder, a second time, and I went down like a load of broken bricks.
She wasted no time seizing the moment, the opportunity and me. Just that fast, she turned the tables. She got to the telephone cord (That would teach me to rip it out of the wall the way I had at the beginning of our encounter.) and got it around my neck from the back and began choking me the best she could. She was strong, fierce, almost super strength filled with adrenalin and the smell of victory over me, over her attacker and tormentor and it made her an exceedingly dangerous force. Indeed, I had forced her to change, right in front of me, and stared so directly at her body, at her sex, she felt already raped. I'd suckled her nipple in the kitchen where I'd gripped at her crotch too.
Page 2-3.
She pulled tighter and tighter and I was pretty well to passing out but then I got lucky too since I couldn't see at all, but I managed to land a good one/two punch combination to her gut. She gasped for air but was still able to continue tying me up since she could fully see and knew her fucking life depended on it. She kept wrapping the cord around my ankles and legs above the knees and also my wrists at the back and then around my throat so I was pretty well was immobilized. How could I have been so stupid, to let her do that to me? I was still hollering about my eyes but I could make out her form standing all powerful, above me, sort of towering over me, all triumphant.
The bitch then hauled back and kicked me in the crotch, right in the balls. I doubled forward as much as I could considering how I was tied and she went to do it again, only harder, containing more hatred. She connected mostly with my upper, inner thigh and then she dropped down, sat right down on top of me. She had her legs far apart and I could make out the blur of her white silk panties. I couldn't help myself, seeing what I could through the haze, I thought, 'your cunt's mine. It's fucking garbage and should be taken away from you, thrown away, and you'll live and die to regret this'. I wanted to bite her but it wasn't within my mouth's grasp to do so. I think she knew her crotch, her cunt, was exposed to me and did it all the more to tease me, to torment me. Look what you thought you were going to have, to rape, and now you can't have it at all.
She got up and off me and pulled me along the floor by my hair (that hurt so I knew how she felt when I did it to her) and stuffed me into the living room fire place, like I was a big log to be burned. She pushed and rolled me in using a spear to jab me. Then she put the steel bed stead which covered the whole opening to imprison me, to confine me. She lashed it into place and pulled a heavy table against it for extra measure. I was pretty much in a little cell. She'd been using a thin poker and jabbed at me through some larger openings in the screen. She jabbed my stomach and aimed again at my balls. She gloated and said she was going to go to the kitchen and get a steak carving knife to cut them off, to castrate me. Of course, when these bitches threaten to do that, they don't mean just the balls. They want the stick too, the banana, to really emasculate and de-dick.
Page 2-4.
She was on her way back, knife in hand, wagging it at me when her girl friends, her house mates, came through the door.
She stopped with the slice and dice.
Well shit, were they aghast at the situation. She looked like a mad woman, a woman possessed and I looked so much worse off than her. They got her out of the room and away from me and the knife away from her. I could hear heated discussion in the next rooms. I don't know how many times I heard, 'tried to rape me again' but it must have been a hundred. Fucking cunt liar, I hadn't tried that even once yet.
I was alone and had to sort out my predicament.
The first thing I knew, with no doubt, if I regained control, got the better of her again, she was fucking dead. Then I decided, no, not if - when. She was so fucking dead her corpse wouldn't even look like one but only after she'd been raped and abused like no other rape victim in the world, in the whole rape universe, hers was going to be the worst so that was some tall order I'd made for myself and her. And that went for her cunt girl friends too. There were going to be fried cunts all around if I ever got loose again. No, no, when I got loose again.
It may sound hard to believe, but in the midst of all that, my excruciating pain, I sort of chuckled to myself. Totally true, to my nature, right to the end. My end? There I was planning how I was going to kill her (them) and make her cunt sorry it ever belonged to her, when it was more likely she was going to kill me. She said she was going to.
There was no point going to the cops since they hadn't done anything about the first time I'd tried to do her at her car, and they seemed more interested in leering at her and talking to her chest than her face. She said all men were alike and the cops wouldn't be of any use so I'd end up free to stalk and attack her again, so she was going to kill me for peace of mind and insurance. She even said she might torture me to see how I liked it after how I'd gone after her and seemed to like beating on her as we fought before. I sure had liked punching and slapping her as we'd struggled and how her body felt as she strained and stretched and sweated.
So there I was, almost laughing to myself and seeing the inappropriateness of it all. I suppose that's what the mind does when the body is so injured and in pain with lots of added fear.
Page 2-5.
I mean, I'd seen it lots of times before in all of my other rape victims, without fail, where they were so fucked over and abused that they started to become irrational, sort of a 'loss of hope syndrome' or something equally debilitating. Their bodies were beyond buggered (I was becoming so good at it, I was thinking to hang out my shingle, 'Expert Cunt Buggerer' - 'Hours, Always') they were so buggered they'd become detached, as I said, not rational any more, sort of like laughing out loud at a really solemn funeral. The mind and body do strange things when pushed beyond endurance, and I should know since I'd done so many to that point and so it was happening to me. At least I knew the signs and knew I wasn't going crazy. I well might have already been crazy, but differently so, 'sexually crazed madman' the newspaper headlines had shouted the only time when they found some remains.
I had to give my head a shake to get back on track, to sort out how I was going to retaliate, but first just how to stay alive and keep my balls. The one comfort I had was the five inch switch blade knife I had inside a secret pocket in my pants. She hadn't discovered it, so it was to be my focus for escape. I wanted to stick it right through her bra, right through her nipple, right through her chest wall, right into her heart but that was all sort of impractical and wishful thinking, at least for then.
God, I was pissed and disappointed with myself. She was the best cunt I'd ever had and there'd been quite a few, right across the country. I guess you'd say I was a serial fucker and the best way to describe the conclusions to their ordeals, what happened to them would be a series of mysterious disappearances all across the States and even into Canada. Those Canadian cunts are every bit a match for the good old and young, all ages, made in the USA cunts. One was even from Quebec, outside Montreal. A real beauty about twenty-five and didn't speak a word of English and I don't know French, but she well understood the universal language of a stiffened cock aimed first for her anus and then stuffed into her mouth half way down her throat. Fucking Canadian slut, she's still in the newspapers, they're looking for her. How she disappeared from her vacation in Niagara Falls. She was a judge's daughter, some court they have I think they call Supreme, and she was supreme. Fought like a wild cat for awhile, a couple of weeks and then became mush.
Enough of my travels and history lesson. I got to get on with getting on. As I was saying, I was so pissed with myself. Fawcett was the best cunt I'd ever had and I was letting it get away.
I deserved to be whipped. Right across my stupid dick. With an iron bar.
Fuck, my eyes hurt. What could I do about my eyes?
Page 2-6.
She must have told them, her girlfriends, she planned to kill me since I clearly heard, 'No you're not. You can't. If you do, it makes you worse than him'. There was a ray of additional hope (from the other stupid cunts). I didn't know which one of her friends was speaking, but she would have to be part of my escape plans, a starting point. I'd have to play her against my captor and divide their resolve, or loyalties, whatever it took. I'd have to play up to her and that could work, I thought. I mean, she'd pay for helping me afterwards, really fucking pay. And that was just about the next thing I heard my little unidentified bitch friend saying.
'We can't let him divide us. I think he's smart and he's ruthless and if we let him, he'll play us, one against the other.'
I couldn't hear the next exact response but then heard my bitch again.
'Then we're agreed that we agree. He doesn't get to manipulate us.'
Then I heard the others', 'Yes.' and 'Then what are you going to do next?'
Then Fawcett replied, 'We have to dig a hole.' (I well knew her voice by then.)
Holy shit. I'd better get it into high gear or I'd be in no gear at all. Holy crap, she was fucking crazy. Just as crazy as me, but only sort of. I'd picked a real power bitch who didn't give a fuck about the law anymore, just the same as I'd never cared about the law. The laws weren't for maniacal rapists, they were for the victims and a sweet lot of good it did them as they were reamed and broken.
(You're raping me. It's against the law. So fucking what.)
Holy shit again. She was looking for a shovel, asking them if they knew where one was. Talk about motivational speaking, like giving me a reason to perservere.
I guess about three hours had passed and my eyes were starting to clear pretty good. They were still puffy and swollen (like her cunt would be) but the pain, after awhile, subsided and I could see pretty clearly then. I really didn't hear her come in. She had soft slippers on, but I heard,
'Mister. Mister.' ever so timidly.
Page 2-7.
I turned to look out and up and holy mother of fuck, what a vision. It was one of her girlfriends who was the spitting image of Jaclyn Smith because it was Jaclyn Smith. What kind of fantasy is this? Would the other one look like Cheryl Ladd? Angels all and that's exactly how it all got juxtaposed. The three women were the Charlies Angles bitches, but they weren't detectives (No guns to worry about.) In this fantasy, they were just girlfriends and housemates.
Well then I knew I absolutely had to get free to do my thing (to them all). Not to stay alive but to do my thing. Three of the finest cunts in the world, in the universe, were all together in one place and if I got back in control, I could fuck them all at my leisure, if only I could get free. So besides the grave, Fawcett was digging, then I had extra incentive. Smith is my all time favorite cunt from the
nineteen eighties, and I just knew, some how, I was going to do her proper and formal and crazed.
'Please Miss. Please. Your friend went ballistic. She went crazy. I came to return her wallet, all the money's inside, and to apologize for my behavior before. I was really drunk and just separated from my wife and I saw her at her car and she was so beautiful, I just lost control. It was the booze. I swear. I'd never have otherwise. You've got to believe me even if she doesn't.' I really laid on the sincerity.
'You came to say you're sorry?' Smith asked.
'Yes. Yes.' I replied timidly, hopefully (all fake).
'What happened?' she asked again.
'She flipped out, like a wing nut. She said she was going to make it look like I tried to rape her, tore her clothes and smashed things and all, so she could call the cops and I'd pay for before. She was mad at them, the way they dismissed her and said there had been no rape so they couldn't do anything. She said they just wouldn't do anything and felt they thought she probably asked for it looking and dressing the way she does.' I couldn't have sounded more sincere.
'How did you get so hurt? Did she do that? She must have done it.' She said.
Smith was sympathetic and seemed to be siding with me. (gullible, kind, fantastic looking bitch.)
Page 2-8.
'She beat and kicked me and after, she used the insect spray in my eyes and nose. She wanted to kill me, though, so I guess she's changed her mind about going to the cops.'
'Yes, she wants to dig a hole, a grave and wants us to help but we don't want to. She's out there digging it now.' Smith said.
'Please. Oh please. No. My wife may be gone but I have two little girls. I have their pictures in my folder in my shirt pocket.' I begged. (I didn't have a wife nor kids but assembled photos of a family I'd taken from the wallet of a previous victim. It put some of the other cunts at ease, before I grabbed them.)
Smith replied, 'She said I better not move the screen. Farrah would freak if I did.'
'Please look. You'll see I'm not lying and please get a wet cloth for my eyes. They're really sore and swollen and she did it to me.'
Of all things, Smith went to the kitchen and returned with a wet tea towel and moved away the table against the bed stead. She moved it aside too and leaned in and washed my face around my eyes. Fuck, her tits were beautiful. Her face and her ass were beautiful and I just knew her asshole was too. She'd be pucker fucked even harder than Fawcett, but not for awhile. First I had to get her to free me.
'Check my pocket for the pictures.' I reminded her as she finished up bathing my face.
She leaned in further and retrieved the folder and took out the photos.
'They're lovely. Your girls are and your wife's beautiful too.' She seemed a bit surprised I guess because of how bad I looked.
(The picture of 'my wife' was of the woman I'd stuck the fire crackers in her cunt, in one of my previous accounts, make that stories, on this site.)
'Yes, and my girls need their daddy. Please don't let her kill me. please.' I really turned it on because it was then or never for Smith.
She held on to the pictures after she closed me back in with the bed stead and table.
'I'll see what I can do. I'll see.' She was compassionate. I wouldn't be.
Page 2-9
'Say it please. Say you won't let her kill me, take my little girls' father away from them.' I implored, almost begged.
'I don't know but I don't think we'll let her. There's two of us and we always take a vote.'
With that she was gone and out of the room.
I felt much stronger then and just knew I'd be fucking Smith sooner than later. I had almost worked the cord lose around my wrist at the back and knew I could get free in a few minutes more effort. I also knew my knife was ready to rescue me. It had been in more than a few cunts, right into clits. There were lots of pussy notches on its blade.
All of a sudden, I heard a bunch of yelling and it sounded as if Fawcett had come in and found out and was slapping Smith. That's what I was supposed to do, bitch slap Smith.
'What's the matter with you?' Fawcett shrieked. 'You opened the cover to see his dumb pictures? You bathed his eyes? I'm going to gouge his eyes out for the way he stared at me, devoured my body when he made me change, half naked in front of him. So you didn't need to wash them.' Fawcett was furious.
'Stop it. Stop slapping me and you're not. Just leave him alone for now and stop digging that stupid hole.' Smith retaliated.
'Help. Help.' I called out.
'Go see what the rapist wants. I can't stand to look at him now. I'll haul off and kill him. I'll castrate him and murder him. But leave the damned cover in place, the bed stead. Do you hear? And you go with her.' She spoke to Smith like she was a bad kid.
They both came in. Smith and then Cheryl Ladd. Oh God, the third ultimate fuck.
'What's wrong?' Smith asked sort of worried.
'I heard someone being slapped. I wanted to interrupt what was happening.' I said like I was concerned what was happening to one of them. Like I was protecting one of them.
'You were looking out for me?' Smith asked.
'Don't sound so surprised. I'm a father and normally a nice guy.'
Page 2-10
Ladd added, 'I think she's gone too far. We should think about stopping her. Maybe letting him go while she's out there digging. I saw his girls. They're so cute.'
'Yes, they're sweet hearts.' Smith agreed.
I totally held my breath and backed off. That was the moment, the pivotal moment. Heads or tales. Everyone's life just hung in the balance.
'You promise to go and never come back. You promise this is the end of it.' Smith stated.
'You have to give us your word.' Ladd added. (The word of a murdering rapist, should count for everything.)
'I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset her and I never envisioned her reaction. I just should have stayed away and mailed her wallet to her but I wanted to apologize, to say sorry, face to face. Please, just let me go and I promise.' I deserved the Oscar for fake sincerity or convincing insincerity.
'What do you think?' Smith asked Ladd.
'We can't let her kill him so now's our only chance while she's digging.'
Ladd agreed.
With that, they pulled the heavy table away and set the bed stead aside. Smith reached in to help me out and up and I wanted to grab her crotch and tits, her nipples. She had to lean down and forward so I saw right down the front of her sweater. Her bra was pink lace sheer. She didn't seem to notice. She took hold of my arm and pulled outward and then Ladd took hold of the other arm and they pulled me all the way out and sat me on the edge of the table they'd just moved. I was ready to explode but had to hold it all in. I couldn't give off one bad vibration. Four of the finest tits in the world were setting themselves up to be tortured and I had to contain my glee. Smith started to untie me and said,
'This is already pretty lose.'
'Yeah, the phone cord doesn't stay too tight.' I said.
She removed the cord the rest of the way and Ladd got it off my neck. She had to reach across and her tits almost brushed up against me. Then all the cords were off.
Page 2-11.
I had no time to waste. Not a moment to hesitate. I turned away and fished inside my secret pocket and retrieved the switch blade knife. In a flash it was open and I had it at Smith's throat while I gripped and pulled her hair hard with my other hand.
'You make one fucking sound and I'll shove this through your jugular. You'll bleed to death in minutes. Understand?'
They were both shocked beyond belief.
'Do exactly what you're told and no one dies.' I barked.
(Do exactly what you're told and you all die. I mused to myself.)
'Please. Please we were helping you. We were letting you go.' Smith piped up.
'Just do what you're told.' I barked.
'You, kneel down.' I pointed to Ladd.
She was reluctant but slowly complied.
'Now lie flat, face down.' Slowly she assumed the position. Her ass was just asking for it. Her tits were mashed to the floor.
'You tie her hands as tight as you can behind her back.' I ordered Smith.
She balked and I pushed the knife harder so she took the cord and tied her hands the way a woman would, but it was good enough for temporary.
'Now you lay down the same.' I ordered Smith.
She looked at me with big sad, soulful, imploring eyes but did as she was told. I cut the cord and tied her hands proper behind her back and then bound her ankles. I was quick over to Ladd and re-tied her wrists and did her ankles proper the same as Smith.
I was ready to blow a load in my pants. I couldn't believe it. The cunts were mine. Their cunts were then my property and their tits and nipples. Fuck. Fuck. Then I had to deal with the main bitch. Fuck did I have it in for her.
'Now listen, I want you to call her in from outside. I swear if you warn her, say anything wrong to warn her, I'll cut your fucking cunts out. She may get away, but you won't.' I was stone cold in control of them.
Page 2-12.
'Are you going to hurt us? Rape us, like you tried to her?' Smith asked.
'She said the truth and we doubted her.' Ladd added.
'Just call her in.' I ordered them again.
'No, we won't.' Smith challenged.
'We won't let you hurt her anymore, in fact...'
I could sense they were going to call out to warn her. I drove Smith to the side of her head and a split second later caught Ladd the same. They both toppled over. They had been sitting up by then. I had to stay focused. I had to. They were both unconscious, laying there sprawled before me. I couldn't think with my prick. Not yet anyway. Not then. I took them both by the hair and dragged them into the kitchen. The floor was waxed and slippery so they slid easily. I used tea towels to gag them and then just couldn't resist. I grabbed onto one of their tits each and tried to lift them right off the floor by them. I almost succeeded. I pushed my hands into each of their crotches at the same time and pinched hard. Their labias squished out. Then I regained control over my griping hands and eager fingers.
I got up and went back into the living room to the doorway leading outside. I could hear her, Fawcett digging the hole, but then for herself and them. There was a broom in the kitchen, a heavier push type and I gripped it tightly just waiting to swing it. I waited about fifteen minutes and could hear Fawcett stop digging and coming towards the door. She was at it and just through when the broom head caught her full force in the gut. She doubled over and I let her have it full bore across the shins. The handle broke. She collapsed to the ground screaming and writhing and I went to jab the sharp end of the broom handle into her side like a spear.
'Please no. No more please.' She really begged because then I was really hurting her, like smashing away at her body.
With that, I began to bind her hands behind her back and tied her legs just above the knees. She looked really, genuinely terrified and for every good and bad and horrified reason.
Page 2-13.
I sat her up against the wall and got right down in front of her. I looked her dead in the eyes. Right in her quivering face. I pressed the switchblade up under her chin, harder and turned the blade. A little blood trickled down.
'I should slit your throat. I want to slit your fucking throat.'
(I really wanted to slit her fucking slit.)
She yelped but quietly.
I cut the front of her black tank top open down between her breasts.
She'd changed out of the negligee I'd forced her to put on.
I set the knife on the floor beside us.
Stupid cunt had put a bra on too.
I pulled it up as I looked her stone cold in the eyes. I watched the tears well up. Her face was exquisite and pale and battered from our previous wrestling match.
I went right to her nipples and took hold. I dug my thumbnails into each one and then went the full strength pinch.
It was like using two knives.
I still looked her dead in the eyes as I pinched even harder and even harder than my hardest. Tears filled her eyes then and her chin quivered uncontrollably. She was determined not to cry but it fucking hurt so much she couldn't help it. I pulled out on her nipples as I pinched to stretch her as far as I could and told her dead serious, 'Now these belong to me. They're mine, not yours and I'm going to keep them. Stupid cunt, I'll show you who's boss. I'll show you all.'
She shuddered and closed her eyes and started to weep softly, her chest jiggled and heaved and she sort of slumped over. I slapped her face back and forth to get her alert again. She knew she'd made her big play, said all her hateful, murderous things and then I had her back, back under my control. What on earth would I do to punish her, to pay her back? Her fear knew no bounds. That would be the only matter, what would I do for payback? And what about her friends? Where were they? What had I done to them? And that was not the issue either. It was what was I going to do to them? And in front of her? And make her do to them?
She weakly asked, 'What have you done to...'
'Your friends?' I finished her sentence.
She nodded her head meekly.
'I'll show you.' I was all eager.
Page 2-14.
I got up and was back into the kitchen. They were both conscious by then and looked equally terrified. It was a Kodak moment. There would be many more and even better. Much better naked ones. I jerked Smith up by the arm and shoved her into the living room. She almost lost her balance because of how her legs were tied above the knees. Ladd had gotten up herself and was taking baby steps also leading into the living room. I came up behind her and shoved her hard so she flew and fell right onto Fawcett. Fast, I was behind Smith and did the same thing. It was a cunt pile. Like the school yard things boys often do on the ice. Pile up. Pile up. Pile on. This was a cunt pile up. What a fucking site. Arms and legs and tits and asses and crotches all twisting and exposed and trying not to hurt each other. Oh what the Hell, I piled on too. I sure got a few great hand fulls and a few elbow shots in too. I kept molesting the pile of them for about ten minutes, pulling them back if they tried to get away, out of the melee. It was like a free for all only the only thing free was me and they were all prisoners. What a spectacular scenario. I just knew in my dick, we'd be repeating it when we were all naked.
Then it was time to get serious with Fawcett. To give her some of the payback goods. I pulled the other two bitches off her and sat them to the side of her on a couch. They were disheveled and a mess but looked spectacular. Just imagine Smith and Ladd, all messed up, all roughed up. Fucking fantastic.
I sat down and looked Fawcett dead in the eyes again. Her bra was still up and I reached for her nipples again and she pulled right back.
'They're mine. I fucking told you they're mine. They don't belong to you anymore. You understand?' She didn't want to acknowledge my challenge.
'I want to pinch my nipples.'
She just sort of looked at me dumb.
'I want to pinch my nipples or I'll cut them off.'
She had no clear idea what to do. She was squirming and sort of whimpering the same way she had on the bed when she first dropped her robe. She was so conflicted but then she straightened herself up the best she could and pushed her chest out towards me, offering herself to me.
'That's better. Now you get the idea. Those are my nipples. And these are mine.' I said as I pinched my own hard.
Smith and Ladd watched in fright knowing full well their turns would come.
Page 2-15.
With that I did the thumb nail thing again and then pulled her tits out, by the nipples, really far. I released them quick and they flopped down and jiggled. It would have been better for her if they'd flopped off.
I looked her cold in the eyes.
I brushed my cheek next to hers. It was tear stained and smelled salty, tasted salty. She cringed but tried not to reveal it but she was afraid to the heart so couldn't hide it. She just knew something really bad was coming. Something worse than she could imagine. Captured cunt's intuition at work, I suppose.
I pulled back and looked her stone cold in the eyes again.
'Just so you know, I'm going to castrate you. You said you were going to castrate me and even had the knife, so I'm going to use the same knife to castrate you, return the favor.' I paused for effect.
'Can't be done? I suppose it's not quite the right term.' I continued. 'It's what they do in Africa all the time, to the young girls without anesthetic. So what ever they call it, it'll hurt plenty and it's going to happen to your cunt. Your cunt. Your cunt. (I said it louder and meaner each time.) Welcome to sunny Africa.'
I paused for awhile while Ladd and Smith cried and tried to cuddle each other.
I got up and said, 'Sounds like a plan to me.'
Fawcett implored me with her eyes, begged big as saucers. She had no reason to think I wouldn't do it. A deepening shudder ran through her entire body, right to her core, right to her clit.
I went over to Smith and said quietly, 'You know, with the three of you, I could start a collection, a clit collection.' She looked mortified but didn't respond. Ladd sagged. I wanted to ask Fawcett, later, what she thought of that idea, but for then I just wanted to let her stew and think about the implications of the procedures. I assumed, for quite awhile she'd be thinking of little else and how to prevent it. How to stop me, the unstoppable fuck force. Then she must have become super terrified because, without warning, she slumped out unconscious. Just from the prospect, she went out cold. She must have been visualizing the operation. Feeling it. Although I could sympathize with her a bit, when she was boldly wagging the carving knife at me, my jewels were more than a little concerned. I knew I had to stop her but I never expected it all to be so sweet.
Page 2-16.
Since it's nineteen eighty-six and the WWW didn't get up and running until nineteen ninety-one and Google in nineteen ninety-eight, I'll have to use the old fashioned method to research clitorectomy.
I 'll have to make the effort to go to a reference library.
Looks good on you, Farrah.
Looks better off you, Farrah.
Because it was just the start of a long holiday weekend, I figured I had three days to spend as their guest. I needed lots of time, and space, to execute all my twisted plans for them. I had no idea who would be looking for them or might contact them or come by. I'd cross that bridge when it came up. I had triumphed in the face of adversity and then was going to become their leering face of adversity. I needed a rest to re-group. I sat them along the couch, in a line, and just stared at all the beauty. Talk about an abundance of riches.
I wanted to fuck them all at once, but then I was hungry - for food.
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