 |
|||
|
|
Chapter four.
The good stuff begins.
Page 4-1.
I was fast into Fawcett's bedroom, all excited and naked and I began to assess the best way to proceed, sort of organized and scientific like, you might say. The more I looked around, the more I was a little put off. There was nothing at all wrong with it as a bedroom but I could see, pretty quickly, it was going to make for a piss poor torture chamber or a sexual abuse facility extreme, or s.a.f.e. Yeah, a safe house for them. Even the bed was a solid curved walnut affair with no where to tie ropes or anchor hooks to do some limb pulling and crotch stretching.
I sat down, half disappointed, trying to locate the deeper problem. Something wasn't right (besides me) and it was bugging me a bit. Why was I unsettled and dissatisfied? I was up wandering about and farted around in her underwear drawer again. What wasn't already on the floor, soon was, and I dressed in her stuff the same as I had Smith's. It was just something that felt good to do, an added little kick at their integrity. Her briefs, by Hanes, were off-white, sort of ivory and were a bit tighter, and her bra also, than Smith's, which made sense since I took her for one to one and a half sizes smaller, maybe fifteen pounds lighter. Anyhow, just enough smaller that everything would be tighter. She would be at a distinct disadvantage for the cunt stretching contest I was beginning to formulate and fantasize about. Stretch 'em until they break. Stretch 'em until they rupture asunder.
But then again, all wasn't lost for her because when it came to the tit fucking deal, she'd have the advantage. Smaller, hard tits take the grinding of a stiff cock against them much better than larger, softer ones. And my boner would really have to bear down to get to the orgasm. It took a fucking lot of pressure, full body weight, back arched way up, my feet waving all about, hand gripped into her twat, pinching, twisting and clawing, grinding across her tit mound with my bugger bat for me to cum.
Page 4-2.
Of course it helped plenty if they were tied just right, spread eagled, pulled tight, with a book, or some other hard object with no give, jammed under their back underneath the tit that was being fucked. With everything just right, optimum conditions, you might say, it still could take at least the half hour of excruciating, ecstatic thrusting, of feeling the tit crunching against her chest bones to deliver her the juice. The biggest variable was how much and how they begged me to stop. Not one fucking bitch rack ever liked it. I guess tits weren't designed for that kind of action. I only wished I could figure out a way to fuck nipples. There was a science to good tit fucking and I was quite self-satisfied that I had mastered it. I'd smeared a lot of chests, many several times and I was about to acquire the absolute best tit fuck of all, unexpectedly, in just a few hours. I'm afraid this all may be getting to technical and boring, so back to my immediate problem.
My problem was one of riches. Now I knew it clear. I laid on Fawcett's bed, on her white satin sheets, and rubbed her silk pillow (I could smell her scent on it.) against my cock in her underwear. But what the Hell, the real thing was down stairs, just waiting in splendid fear and I was up to doing this which I did often by myself when I didn't have a captured live cunt or two laying about all tied up.
What it was? I hadn't counted on having two more and such raving beauties that they were, I didn't want to rush any part of it. Not one fucking fuck or nipple bite, and certainly not their unveilings. And yet, for me, even if I kept them the full four days of the holiday weekend, that would be rushing it. To do it all right, to really get into their skin, into their pores, to absorb their bodily fluids, I needed lots more time, even weeks into months.
And to use the special holding, torture room facilities I had painstakingly and lovingly constructed back at my own place, which was also remote and hidden but was two hours away by back roads; to use my own arrangements the solution became quite obvious.
Page 4-3.
What was the point of starting in on Smith and Ladd right now (I kept forgetting how weak I could be) if I couldn't do it right? If I felt I had to rush, that would be no fun, well maybe some kicks, but no where near what it could be if approached like a science, like a mission, methodically and creatively.
As much as I was ready to cunt slap the two of them, I knew I had to transport them. It's not that that was impossible. I had my specialized, no extra windows, rape victim, capture van with me on this mission but it was a complete change of plans.
Since I'd gone to kill Fawcett, to relieve her of her life, after I paid her back for getting away from me, probably four days and nights of almost non-stop abuse and torture of her would have done the trick, would have evened the score and satisfied my cock's wonderful sense of justice, so I really didn't have any intention of transporting just one cunt or what was left of it. If I fucked her every three or four hours she'd still get a good twenty or so rammings which I figured might be enough along with all the other evils I had planned for her. Hell, I still had to face it, she only had one set of nipples and they could only be bunged so much without being given time to heal.
But now there were three of them, six fucking buds to bugger, three clits in a circle. No bloody way I could do justice to my craft, to abusing them, without time and all my tools and mechanical and burning devices and stuff for stretching and suspending and piercing them.
I was decided, we were all going to move.
Now I knew and it was good.
I got up and went down stairs to have a really good look, an inspection, you might say, of what I had just acquired, what was now my property, to view an unbelievable dream picture, pretty well forgetting I had Fawcett's stuff on. It seemed and felt perfectly normal to me.
Page 4-4.
'You're sick.' She spat out when she saw how her panties were cum stained and wet by now also. Her bra was sheer and transparent and my hard nipples poked through. From her intimate knowledge, she knew right away they were hers I was violating. I guess that's why they call them intimates.
I back handed her without warning. When her head flew to the side, I punched her full fist to the side of her tit and caught her enough that it mattered.
She cried out like a scream, 'No. No. I'm sorry. Don't.'
She hadn't expected I'd tit bash her. Like her breasts were something special. Off limits for a hit or a blow. No low blows. No punching below the armpits. (No kicking in the crease.)
I grabbed her legs which were still tied at the ankles and pulled them straight out to straighten them. It forced her to fall back, to tilt back but she was already against the other two so her neck got pulled tight, sort of twisted, in the loop around the three of them. She sort of choked and gurgled and they all started to, like, cough. With her legs now straight, the bottom of her dress was hiked up and her ivory panties (the exact same kind as I had on) showed nicely. I stared right down at her barely mounded silk triangle. It was tiny and compact and matched her ass which I'd seen full bare already.
'They look just like mine. Imagine that.' I paused. 'I'll tell you what, let's say we trade. Pull a switch-a-roo.'
She glared at me fierce.
'I guess you'd rather not. I take that as a no. Is that right?' I teased her, bated her.
She tried in vain to turn her legs to cover her exposed patch over. Her dress rode up further. Perfect. It was doing my bidding, not hers.
'What? Please.' She was cowed by my violent outburst. Still in a little shock. It was so lightning quick and her tit hurt something awful. I hadn't caught her full front, on purpose, so I'd be sure to smash some of the fatty tissue against her chest wall, against her bone structure so stuff got all split and crushed. Like a planned tit demolition, and sort of like using a hammer.
Page 4-5.
'I guess you'd rather not exchange undies then?' I said as I pulled out on the waist band of mine and let them snap back. She was half looking up. Her eyes looked so helpless. I was a foot from her face, looming and proud. Almost getting giddy, I loved it so much.
'No please. That's right. Leave me alone. Just leave me alone. You hurt me.' She paused. 'again. Again. Stop hurting me. Enough is enough.' (As if I could ever, in a dozen life times, get enough of hurting her. She really had no idea what was in store for her. As I mentioned before, she should have got me to shoot her dead. Even a bunch of bullets in her cunt would have been better even with a couple more through her tits, than what was awaiting her, them all.)
I went back to her pleas.
'Then stop being such a fast mouthed bitch. You may get away with it doing your work but you'll never, never ever, get away with doing it with me. You understand? You stupid cunt?'
I squeezed her cheeks hard together, pinched her face and smeared the trace of her lipstick that was left, with my thumb, to make my point. I kissed her mean, biting her face. She shook my hand off.
'No. Stop. Leave my face. Don't hurt my face.' I let go of her meanly giving her an extra hard twist.
'Do you understand?' I barked again.
'Yes. Yes. I understand. I..' She pretty well barked it right back at me, defiant and sarcastic, anyway, with enough attitude she needed more teaching.
I smashed her again to the side of the same tit in the same spot. It was faster and harder than lightning.
She screamed out, shrieking and the other two began with a chorus of telling me to stop and you're hurting her. (So what and no shit.)
'You two want it instead?' I asked. I spun to the side and I made like I was going to slug Smith in the tit also.
Page 4-6.
'No. Please don't. Please, oh don't.' She was really afraid for the sex in her breasts. Her femininity and image, the profile of her chest. I suppose how she looked in a bathing suit.
'Fine. Fine, then keep your cunt mouths shut.' I replied.
I was back to Fawcett and she was mewling, sort of sniveling and whimpering, which surprised me a bit about her. Some power bitch. I am woman. I am strong. I'm a cry baby. But then too, I guess, two good hard punches, like hammer drives, close together done viciously and meanly and with pleasure would unsettle most beautiful women. I guess. Anyhow, who the fuck cared? Who the fuck cared about her tits, right then, other than her and me? (and hopefully some readers who care to visualize her predicament)
I pulled her head back by her hair and gave her my best straight, no foolin' look and said, 'Now exactly what were we talking about? What were you saying?'
'Please don't hit me there again. You'll damage me. Cancer can start from blows like that, breast cancer, and my sister already had...so please, and yes, I understand what you were saying. OK? OK? I understand. OK?'
'Your sister had tit cancer? Do they look as good as yours? Or did they cut them off, hack them off and sew the nipples, her real nipples, back on? Often they don't. They make new ones and you know sometimes they get them in the wrong place, the wrong position, and they look ugly, stupid and fantastic.' I'd done one with reconstructed breasts and that's a whole other story.
'Stop it. You're completely disgusting. My sister died from it.' (boo hoo)
'If she looked like you, that was a waste. How old?'
'Leave her memory alone. Please. I only had one...Please.'
'Fair enough, but you do understand?' I said.
'Yes, I already said I do.'
'That's great. See you didn't have to get all uppity and raise your attitude to me. No percentage in that. It wasn't a good idea, was it?' I played with her.
Page 4-7.
'No. I'm sorry. It wasn't.' She had gone all mushy and was wimping out. Fucking cunt baby.
I guess she really loved her sister. I would like to have too, the two of them at once, together. I'd done sisters before and they were just about as good as mothers and daughters, which I'd done two pairs of the latter. And once I did a mom and two of her daughters. Now that's a whole other story (in the making).
And depending upon the age of the kid, God did that make the mothers insane and the incredible extra lengths and self-scarifices they'd make to try to keep their kid alive and not be buggered badly before being murdered right in front of their eyes. Oh yeah, it was better than sweet. And the cherries I got were the sweetest when you figure they still had developing tits and clits.
'So what about the other?' I started in again.
'What? Please? I said I understand.' I don't know if she was that confused or it was just a good act.
She was going in squares backwards.
'What about, you know?' I fucking loved it, each drawn out second of it.
She just looked blank, non-comprehending. With that I reached in and hooked my fingers inside the leg holes of her panties and pulled lightly out.
'No. No. Don't please. Stay away from me.' She contracted into herself, sort of protective. She wanted to protect her womanhood. She didn't want to share it which seemed kind of selfish to me and her gesture erotic, and ever so pointless.
'But we're going to exchange them, aren't we?'
'Please no. No.' She pleaded.
'But I thought we agreed. You agreed.'
'No. No. I never. No. Not...' She was sputtering .
I pulled harder straight out and then a little off to the side. Her fuzz was showing clear and the beginning, one side of her labia (majora). Yeah, her little ones were all inside, nothing was outside, all neat and precise and tidy.
I just held it like that and said, 'So are we or aren't we?'
She struggled to reply, but finally came out with a timid, ' Oh very well but how can I with...'
I'd had my switch blade on stand by and clicked the blade open in a flash. I cut the nylon tie about her ankles with one swipe and her knees parted and her legs spread and wider.
I let her undies snap back to cover her cunt.
Page 4-8.
They were the only protection she had and I had a knife in my hand. How appropriate. How delicious. How tempting.
Just one little stab.
Just one little labia slice.
Now she just looked at me petrified. She wanted, more than anything, for me to put the blade down. I sort of aimed the tip at her crotch and laid the knife beside her. She seemed relieved but now, how could she stop it? How could she stop me from seeing her cunt bare close up? She would be the first of the three and even though I'd already seen her bare tits (and abused them) there was always something more significant about the vagina getting involved, getting violated. It was the crux, the bulls eye for sadistic dreams and activities. She was petrified and furious at the same time and the others were crying softly now. Trying not to hear the sounds. They didn't want their friend being abused but never offered to take her place. Selfish, self-preserving little twats. You'd have thought one of them would have offered.
'So, anytime you're ready, just say.' I said.
'Please don't. Please.'
'That doesn't sound like you're ready, like you'll ever be ready. Maybe your tit needs some more cancer.' I raised my fist.
'No. I'm ready. What ever it is. I'm ready.' Now I finally believed her.
'That's the smart girl, Farrah. That's much better. So what are we doing?'
'We're exchanging underwear. we're changing into each other's. What we have on.'
'Perfect. Just perfect. You're...'
With that, I slid mine down and off and my prick was out like the horizontal flag pole again. I stuffed my damp underwear into the side of her bra where I'd drilled her tit. She winced.
I knelt down and ran my hands up her legs from above her knees to her inner thighs. She was never so tense. Her inner thigh muscles trembled and tightened. Her crotch started to squirm. Her face was perfectly resistant.
Page 4-9.
Her brain was on fire. She'd fully expected this, in some form, but now that it was happening it was much worse than she'd thought it could be, much more demeaning and a threat to her womanhood. She thought if she had to, if there was no way out of it, she could handle it better. Be stronger. I was coming for her fucking pussy. Why should she be able to handle it? Why did she have the nerve to think she could handle me, manage me, manage her own sexual assault? Arrogant, in control, good looking bitch syndrome, I suppose. A perfect bust and smash candidate.
'Relax. Just relax. It won't be so bad.' I soothed her. 'You'll see. I know what I'm doing. I know how to treat a woman, and how to mistreat her, if I want to. But, you'll see, you'll feel I can please you.'
She wasn't hearing or accepting any of my talk about finesse.
I brushed the knuckle of my index finger across her crease, across her slit. Her mounds felt sublime under the quivering silk. Now she outright re-coiled and clamped her eyes shut. I studied her beautiful face all contorted and pinched. Her chin quivered too and her face flushed bright red, like she was embarrassed. Like she was blushing, but she wasn't. It was anger and humiliation and helplessness and being touched inappropriately. I was inappropriately brushing her cunt through the silk of her thin panties. I could feel her bristle. Even her cunt hairs bristled. Oh, so fucking perfect.
It was the very first time in her life, her vagina was actually being sexually compromised and I was surprised someone hadn't raped her before I got to her. She always looked like she needed to be raped. Some one should have sucker punched her tits in an elevator and then sucker kneed her crotch.
And that was also the very first vaginal contact I'd made with any of them. It was sweeter than the sweetest honey pot. It was life at its pinnacle. I owned every component of her vagina, which made her a woman possessed by a pervert. Now I could wrap her soul around my prick and stick her spirit up my ass.
Page 4-10.
I hooked my index fingers into each leg hole and started to pull harder. I loved the way the satin stretched across her labia, pulled down and in, deepening her shallow crease. Of course, her ass was sitting on her panties so they didn't want to give enough to come down. I reached around and down and under her sweet cheeks and worked them down under her rump from the waistband. I was pushed right up against her to do it and to move back away, I grabbed onto her slugged tit for leverage and squeezed. She screeched out.
'No. No. No. Stop. No.'
'Oh, I'm sorry. I should have used this one.' I said as I took hold of her undamaged tit, like a handle, and pushed myself the rest of the way away.
Now I re-hooked my index fingers into her panty leg holes and they started to slide down readily and smoothly .
There was no going back.
There was nothing she could do to stop it, except maybe shit herself which she didn't. I guess she never thought of it and it only would have delayed the inevitable anyway.
The top of her pubic hair was showing and she was a natural blonde. About another inch and the crease would start to show. I was in absolutely no hurry because I could only see it once for the first time. Gradually I started to pull down again for the true unveiling and her slit became half out. Fuck was she tidy. Her minora all hidden. Absolutely nothing extra outside. Precise and hard, nothing loose.
I studied her slight, fear movements. Her fear was great, her spasms, little.
She wanted me to stop.
She needed re-assuring.
I finished pulling down.
It all showed.
She was all bared.
Page 4-11.
She squirmed as I slobbered looking at her. Staring at her. Devouring it with my eyes and my cock straighter that a bat, like the poker she'd used on me in the fireplace. God, I wished I had it right now, barbed end and all. Better off that I didn't. I wanted to fuck her first undamaged.
She could hardly breath and sort of gasped and jerked. She was so afraid I was going to reach in and penetrate her with my hands, my greedy, probing fingers. My finger nails. (She wasn't even thinking of foreign objects and certainly not ones that burn or roast.)
I didn't.
I didn't stick my fingers in her...yet.
I kept pulling down until her panties were full off and rubbed them all across my face. I could smell the fear in her cunt in them. Fuck. Fuck and fuck. She smelled beyond sweet. I needed a break or my balls would explode and my dick fly off. I'd already jumped out of my fore-skin when I dealt with the young cunt from Gilmore Girls, and now this.
I stood up and moved around and rubbed them across Smith's and Ladd's faces while Fawcett's bare pussy waited and stewed, quivered with fear and loathing.
'You two smell like this?'
They wouldn't answer, they considered it so degrading.
'Oh, the silent treatment. I guess I'll have to find out for myself then,' I paused just relishing their discomfort, 'or are you going to tell me?'
They looked at each other in dismay. Had I no shame, making them say about such private matters?
'Do you two sweet fucks smell like that?' I rubbed the panties across their mouths, one after the other.
Smith jerked her face to the side and finally answered, 'Oh please, stop degrading us. You know there'll be an odor, Not exactly the same but a similar one, but you know it. So please stop being so gross...'
'Gross. Gross? I'll show you gross...' I just sounded angry, play acted angry and so loved the developing dynamics. She was easy to set up, to lead her where I wanted.
Page 4-12.
She thought I was really pissed, but I just wanted to hit her. I always had.
I'd always wanted to tit bash Jaclyn Smith.
'No. No. please..'
I drew my fist back.
'No. Please. I meant grossly insensitive to our needs.'
'Well I think you need this then.'
I drove Smith the same way to the side of her tit as I did Fawcett. I surprised even myself. I hadn't intended to do it so soon. I wanted to keep her perfect for a long time before I started to unload on her, started in on her in earnest with the real damage, but it flashed and my fist connected and she fucking hollered bloody murder and then sobbed. She'd never, in her entire charmed life, been so mistreated. Her breast was horrified and injured.
'No. No. How could you? Why?' She sort of mumbled and Ladd tried to comfort and protect her.
'Jackie, be quiet. Don't say any more to antagonize him. Just don't...Or he'll hit you again. I think he likes to hit us.'
Astute cunt that she was, she got it just right.
Now I was back in front of Fawcett and proudly put her panties on. They were just the same only not cum stained. I pulled the ones I'd had in her bra out and wiped the damp cum across her lips. Then I fed them over her feet onto her legs. He legs were extra long and beautifully toned and I couldn't wait to spread them really wide using my stretching devices and hang her upside down by them with the broken broom handle stuffed in her cunt. (The one I'd smashed her shins with in chapter three.) I worked the panties over her knees up to her inner thighs. I couldn't get them along any further. She was straining with nowhere to go. Wriggling like a worm on a hook and it made her jiggle.
Now I encountered the most delicious of problems. I tried gripping her hard by the inner thigh to lift her up a little to slide the panties under and up over her ass. She'd scream out I was hurting her and I left really red finger marks on her, almost bruises. It just didn't want to work very well.
Page 4-13.
After four tries, I took a pause and said to her, 'This isn't working. You know what the obvious solution is, don't you?'
'What? No? What? If you'd do it faster, they'd go under me when I lift, but..'
'You're saying I'm not really trying?'
She could smell the trap and backed right off.
'You know the obvious, though don't you?'
'No. Please. What? Are you talking about?'
I don't think she was ready for this.
'If I stick my fingers right into your cunt, hook my fingers under the bone, I can lift you up by it. Will you let me do that?'
Well she fucking freaked. All the bile and hostility she'd stored up and tried to contain spilled out and exploded. She didn't care. At that moment all she saw was red and me dead.
'You. You stinking bastard. You degenerate bastard. You can hit me all you want but I'll never let you. I won't ever, ever let you. You may force me and have me do it. Go to Hell. Go all and straight and ever to Hell. I should have killed you. I should have murdered you the first chance I had instead of tying you up. And I swear I'll do it. I'll get you again and you're dead.'
'Well that seems unlikely. I mean, your chance is gone for good. Little miss good Samaritan here (I tousled Smith's hair) took care of that, now didn't she?'
'Go to Hell. You tricked her, fooled her and took advantage of her loving and kind nature. She's gentle and good. She's never hurt a fly but you hurt everything. You destroy everything. So go ahead and force me but I'll never let you. Never. Never..'
Fuck I just loved it. The wimp was gone and the attitude bitch back.
Now it was time to play dirty.
Get into her face and her spirit.
I stared her cold in her ice blue eyes. They were still blazing.
Her chin raised defiant. Her mouth curled up like a snarl.
Still, she was trembling and shaking from her outpouring of anger. It had almost exhausted her, but not quite.
Page 4-14.
'What about them? What about her, gentle and good?'
I put my hand on Smith's head like I cared.
Then I took hold of her hair and pulled hard. As her head twisted to the side she yelped. I pulled harder and twisted. I used her skull for leverage.
Smith cried out louder and Fawcett didn't respond.
She was still hyperventilating from her big emotional show and outburst. Her academy performance. Defiant cunt, that was good for someone's nipple coming off.
I moved around again in front of Smith.
She looked so meek and vulnerable, so gentle and good. So defenceless and completely at my mercy. Her beautiful, incredible body was completely at my mercy, which I had none of. It wasn't that it was in short supply. I simply didn't have any of it, nor did I wish to.
She said ever so softly, imploring, 'Please. I don't. Don't hurt me. I'm not strong...'
That shows how little she knew about herself. A woman's cunt muscles are some of the strongest, elastic tissues around. Oh, she was strong, but , of course, I was stronger and I knew full well she hadn't meant that anyway and we'd both find out her tolerances (for pain).
I moved her shoulder back to put her breast, I'd already smashed, into a better position for another hard punch.
I aligned her.
I adjusted her.
Her sweet fucking tit just crying. How could I dare? Why would I dare?
It was like everything was suspended. All civility. All the rules. All frozen in time and her frozen with fear. Her breasts were so incredibly perfect and beautiful, so feminine and erotic and my fist just itched. My prick was as hard as it had ever been, like an icicle in a deep freezer.
Time stopped.
Our stares locked.
Her eyes blinked in recognition, she blanched that split second just before I drove her again.
Dead.
Same.
Spot.
Page 4-15.
She screamed guttural and moaned and short of growled. It was like I was murdering her tit, the first degree kind.
They all screamed and she sort of passed out but not all the way.
I was back to Fawcett, 'Here's the deal, I'm gonna keep on smashing her in the same spot of her same tit until you ask me to lift you up by your cunt. You ask me to insert my fingers deep into you until I scratch your fucking cervix and hoist you up. So what'll it be?'
Fawcett paused a bit and then begged, ' Don't hit her anymore. Please don't. We'll do it your way. We'll do it. Just don't strike her like that again.'
Then she mumbled to herself, desolate, 'My cervix. My cervix. Oh God no. Please help me.'
Like I already said, I owned every component of her sex and her sexual being. I even messed with her underwear and her aluring clothing.
'Fine. Fine. So what are we doing?'
'You're going to, no, I want you to put your fingers into my vagina and lift me up enough to get the panties all the way on.'
'There. You see, that wasn't so hard to say was it? What was all that, I'll never? I'll never. You know what they say, 'Never say never.' and while we're at it, why don't you call me sir.'
Now it was time for the good stuff.
I knelt over her legs and positioned myself right square in front of her. She was trembling and ashamed, partly because she'd let her friend be hurt for no reason since now it was going to be done to her anyway and also because her cunt was naked before me. I had it staked out. Her little slit was cowering. And right now that was what she had become to me, nothing but her little slit.
Fuck was I ready and she never would be.
I don't know how she kept from pissing herself. (others had for less cause)
I hovered my hand above her cunt and went to her belly button. I dug my fingernail into it.
'No lint there.' I joked.
Page 4-16.
I drew my middle and index fingers down her stomach, over her belly. Her skin crawled but she didn't dare show it. I stroked the top of her pubic hair now and sort of twisted and pulled it at the same time. She winced her beautiful mouth but her eyes were clamped tight shut.
'Open your eyes. I want you to look down and watch.'
At first she wouldn't, but knew better (by now) than not to comply for very long. My tit fist was ever ready and available.
It loved its work. The feel of the crunch. I loved the sound of the fat splitting.
My fingers were at the very top of her crease. I pressed ever so lightly and she separated just enough to pink out. Fuck was she beautiful. She smelled exquisite. The smell of her fear was like a drug. My balls were pounding in my head. Something was set to explode. (but not until the next chapter)
I slid down another inch and started the way in. Her clit was right there. Right front to her opening.
'You hold perfectly still. You don't fucking move even a cunt hair.' I was almost out of it with bliss. The tension was...
'I have to see this. I fucking have to see what I own. My fucking property.'
She was vibrating, sort of jiggling, uncontrollably. Her cunt lips were talking, like the begging, to be left alone.
'I can't. I can't hold still. I'm too nervous. You're scaring me. Please just do what you said and lift me. You didn't say about..'
'No. No fucking way. This is way too rich. I only get to do this for the first time once so I want it perfect, perfect. So hold perfect still.'
'No. No. It's not fair. It's not what you said.' She begged. (The stupid cunt bitch was trying to control all the elements of her first cunt assault when she couldn't control any aspect of it.)
She needed to take me seriously.
She needed to learn.
I got right up and went to my rape kit and came back with a five inch pair of blunt nosed pliers, about half an inch wide at the tips of the jaws.
Page 4-17.
Her face contorted.
I laid them on her leg at the top, sort of smirking, sort of almost coming again. She was seeing the first of my many tools, my surgical instruments, you could say. I considered them quite refined but I suppose a real surgeon would beg to differ. I knew she was going to beg to differ, and for different treatment.
'Please. Oh please. Oh no. don't.'
'You hold perfectly still and they stay there, I don't use them. You don't and you know where they're going, don't you?' (These are some of my all time favorite conversations with bitches. That and them pleading to live.)
'Please. Please. No.'
'You know, don't you?'
'Please. I didn't mean. Oh God. Oh God, Please help me God.'
'Tell me where I'll use them. Tell me.'
'Please. God have mercy.'
'If you don't hold still, where?' I could have kept it up all night, I could have danced all night (with her).
'Into. Onto. Into my vagina. Onto my clitoris.' She sobbed as she broke down.
'Onto your fucking clitoris, Farrah. Repeat it.' I said.
'Onto my fucking clitoris. Oh please don't. Oh God help me.'
Her voice was in tears.
'You're one smart bitch so it seems we have an understanding, don't we?'
She nodded her head, just barely and closed her eyes tight again to stifle her crying.
I took her face in my hands and gave her a full, soft kiss on the lips.
'Open your eyes.'
She did and looked so sad and pitiful.
I would have pitied her if I knew how to do it.
I ran my hands down to her good breast and circled and erected her nipple. Moved her breast flesh around in a circle, then pushing her up and letting it fall. She was full, and almost heavy, such a marvellous weight and shape. Nipples like small raspberries. Even some bumps and a couple of hairs and the slightest indentation, hole down the center. (That needed enlarging with a good sized nail, like a railway spike or an axe.)
Page 4-18.
Now we were both there.
Victor and victim.
I looked her once more in the eyes and slid my fingers into her, spreading her and totally exposing her nub. I massaged her lightly. Fuck there were, there were no words. I was in clit heaven and there were two more to be revealed and explored (and pierced and burned and tortured). Without even touching myself I came in her undies again. She knew it but didn't say. I looked in her face self-satisfied. I was into my goal, why I'd gone there in the first place. I had, was succeeding again. I'd never failed yet.
I ran my finger all around it at the base and over the slightly ridged body of her clit. She filled up with blood like a tiny cushion. I could feel her hardening. She was getting sloppy wet. I pressed into her hard, into the sponge, mashing her against her pelvic bone.
Split the clit. (sort of rhymed pretty good)
She cried out and cried.
Fuck. Fuck the pliers were screaming out to me. Yes. Yes. Do it. Use us.
But I couldn't. If I crushed it, what then? No needles. No soldering irons or clamps. It was much too soon for the pliers.
I knew my bible, everything in its time. A season for everything.
I took a good hold and did pinch her flat. It felt like a grape squishing, but went back to its original shape when I released her, didn't split the skin. I well might have bruised her though.
I so wanted to jamb my face into her to get my teeth and tongue onto her but it proved impractical the way she was tied up. I really only got some teeth full of hair. I could have forced it further but why when I could spread eagle her tied to a bed or table and really do it justice and tell her before hand just what was coming. The fabulous, unbearable anticipation.
Page 4-19.
I gave it one last pinch and twist and shoved my two fingers all the way up into her and scraped against her cervix. I scratched her vix a bit and she howled even better. Now, finally, after all that, I lifted her up by the cunt and I slid the undies tight under her ass and pulled up on the waist band and they were full on proper.
Mission accomplished.
What a spectacular production just for a change of clothes and of course now, the big difference being I knew what I owned and would torture and incidentally, Smith had a really sore, twice bashed, tit and wasn't so hopeful or
trusting anymore.
I went back to see how she was. They'd cowered throughout the whole last part of the clit thing with Fawcett, about twenty minutes, and now needed to be alone. They were devastated and inconsolable. They were beyond fucked and, by now, I think they knew it.
I went inside her blouse and her bra and I fondled Smith. The hurt one. It was the first time I had touched her bare skin sexually. I was half afraid, half hoping, I might lose control.
'Too bad she didn't co-operate right away. This didn't need to happen to you.'
She just sort of nodded and sobbed. Her face was tear stained, even more beautiful, if that was possible, which it was. Contorted in screaming anguish would always be the best. Mouth too wide open and twisted, all her white teeth showing in a row, even the back ones.
Still her nipple hardened. The sweet little muscles in her bud all tightened and her areola bunched up into a hard extra ridged mound. I scraped my finger nail along it. I could have bit it off or at least pierced her right down the center or even better shoved something through it sideways.
I whispered in her ear, 'Fucking not bad. Fucking, fucking sweet, and hard. I fucking love your nipples hard.' The last words I growled at her like a beast, a monster in the dark, hiding in her closet, or under her bed just waiting to climb in with her, in to her PJ bottoms with all the Holly Hobby shit on them and into her cunt that still had to grow.
Page 4-20.
I couldn't even let myself think what she must have been like as a kid. Did she fill her first bra? Did she need to be trained? How did she like her first period. Did it run down both legs or just one. Fuck, Oh fuck. (I'd have to ask her, ask them all about their first periods.)
She was beyond repulsed and way more than afraid as her spine shivered at my tone, at the pure evil, and her cunt squeezed closed tight. Like she had the strength to keep me out of her, to force me away with her hopes, by contracting her vaginal muscles like a fist. That's how I wanted her with my dick in her.
Dream on, sweet lady. Dream of my prick as it comes for you, all eager and bulbous and determined. I just about fucked her right then, but got up.
Now I knelt down in front of Ladd. She looked really apprehensive. (and for every good reason)
'You know, to be fair, I should smash one of your tits too.' (Sort of like an equal opportunity tit basher, mistreat 'em all the same.)
'Please don't. No. I haven't done anything. No. Please.'
She hadn't sucked my cock yet, so I guess she was partially right about not having done anything.
I held one hand under her chin to keep her head up, looking in her face in her pale blue eyes. They were deep with fear. Tears were welling up. I wanted to kiss and eat her. Her tits jiggled heavy as her shoulders shuddered.
I drew my arm back while making the fist.
Her eyes were pleading, begging.
I shot my hand forward and was under her blouse and into her bra and pinched her nipple in one smooth motion. She was every bit as perfect as the others and probably the most endowed, maybe a 36C or D. I'd have to line them all up to see, like a beauty contest or a no-tea-shirt contest. Six tits in a row and all mine.
I caressed and fondled her and gave her the fingernail pinch and, of course, she budded up hard, and I said,
'Fair enough. This'll do for now. I'll find something different, something better, for you later.'
Page 4-21.
'No. Please. Please. What do you mean? Something different? Better? Something mean and nasty? Meaner? Please what?'
'I don't know. Maybe... It'll come to me.'
I'd spied the pliers on the floor beside Fawcett.
'Maybe these.' I picked them up and pulled her blouse out again at the front and dropped them into her bra cup and left them there. I patted her tit with the pliers inside her bra. What a special sight, her bra and blouse all lumpy with the outline of the pliers. She never thought she'd be dealing with that dilemma, making that fashion statement, sort of heavy metal attire.
'Oh no. No. Please. No. No. No.' She whimpered like she had before when she said 'rape' five hundred times, before I smacked her to turn her mouth off. The pliers were a horrible, cold reminder of what was in store for them, for her and her nipples, and just a little wee part of what was to come. I didn't envy her her thoughts right then. But I loved it and this time let her mumble on. It was sort of musical and erotically pathetic. Could she really envision how flat her nipple could be made and where all its guts would go, how they'd squish out, all the milk ducts out of commission? (And all about that, I could still drink the juice from her other tit while that nipple was still on her.) Could she imagine her sweet little erection muscles all twisted and flattened and severed? Could she imagine how fucking much it would hurt with all the nerve endings concentrated there? How many fucking nerve endings there are, some unbelievable, fantastic number just perfect for maximum pain and suffering and all of them screaming out in her brain. Could she really imagine?
Virtually every woman could not, except for some that I'd already had.
And Ladd wouldn't have to imagine. Sooner than I could have imagined.
That nipple's fate was sealed. It was branded. X'd. X marks the squish. Since I knew 'the one', which nipple it was, I would be extra considerate of it, tender and loving, suckle it more than the other one and pierce it less. I'd treat it like a treasure, something of value. Something I valued right up until I cancelled it.
Page 4-22.
Since there would be countless other nasty episodes by then, spread out over four cunts (yes, four is what happens in a chapter to come) the stupid bitch would probably forget by the time I was set to do it to her. Or in the meantime she could hope the pliers were just a prop and I was just a twisted jokester. (ha ha, on her, more like a twisting jokester.)
How could I possibly be serious?
'So, would you rather the fist?' I asked Ladd
'I don't know. Maybe. It might be better.' She said softly.
She paused and squirmed and barely got the next words out and she had such a defensive, vulnerable air about her.
'Do you want to do it now? Do it to me now? She said timidly.
I couldn't fucking believe my ears.
She was tragic and heroic.
She was offering to let me smash her in the tit.
Oh fuck.
Oh shit.
What a sweet cunt.
'If it's alright with you, that'd be OK.' I enthused.
'Of course it's not alright with me. But if you're going to do it anyway or something worse, maybe much worse, I don't want you to hurt me bad. Not severe. I don't want you to maim me.'
(Fuck bitch, watch with the choice of words.)
She continued, 'So if that's what you feel you have to do to me, to satisfy yourself, then do it now. Just do it now.'
'Fair enough. I'll say, you're a trooper.'
I set down in front of her and looked at her sort of kind. I tentatively reached out and moved her shoulder back. Her blouse tightened, the pliers still in.
She looked so helpless and scared.
She had assumed.
'Aren't you going to take the pliers out?' She said softly.
'Why?' I said.
'Out of my bra, please take the pliers out.'
Page 4-23.
'Why?' I repeated
'Because...Oh no. You wouldn't strike me like that. Would you? With the metal against my skin? Oh no..'
She panicked.
'Please. Please. I take it all back. I don't want you to hit me now. Please not now.'
'Look, here's the deal, if the pliers come out they go into your cunt. Do you want that?'
'Oh God please. Please just stop it.'
'Do you want that?'
'No. Oh God, no.'
'I didn't think so. Then you want me to leave the pliers in?'
'You're confusing me. You're twisting me around. Please. Please just don't hit my breast with the pliers in.'
'Oh stop whining. Stop begging. Very well. I'll slug your other tit.'
Slug.
Slug it.
Slug her other tit.
She almost seemed relieved, thankful.
I again adjusted her shoulder to move her breast out and forward, more exposed and vulnerable. The fabric of her blouse was stretching and her nipple a bump showing through. I cupped my two hand around her getting a feel.
A feel for her weight, how she was constructed.
It all was so healthy and undamaged, so pristine,
I was like a doctor doing a breast examination, looking for irregularities in her which I seemed about to create in her.
'Take a deep breath and hold it.' I told her.
She was shaking again and the other two were crying at listening to all that I said and was setting up.
'Whenever you're ready.'
Page 4-24.
She looked around for someone to help her. To rescue her. She looked at me to relent. To say I didn't mean it. She even looked to God. She looked all around in vain.
Then she inhaled deeply, squeezed her eyes tight shut and held her breath. Her chest expanded and everything looked just perfect.
'Then I asked her, 'Do you think it would be better with your tit out? Your tit naked?'
'No. No. Please no. Just do it. Just get it over. Please. I'm ready.'
'Well I'm not. I think it needs to be different. I've already done this to them. It needs something different, special.'
'Please don't stop. Don't stop it. just do it.'
She was begging to be tit bashed. Hot damn she was great.
'How about the fist in your cunt instead?'
'Oh no. Oh no.' Her face just contorted and she mewled again but more pathetic like a new born kitten looking for the teat. That sounded about right. I wondered, what I should name my pliers?
I leaned over and kissed her and told her not to worry, for now. I wasn't going to do it for now, and told them all we were going for a ride, that there was a change of plans and when it got dark we would be headed out like one big happy family.
At least I was happy.
I was sir.
And I was the head of the family.
And that's all that mattered.
The pliers still nestled in her bra all warmed.
They were getting hot and itchy to pinch some sexual part of her.
|
|
|