Amanda Plays for Keeps

  I'd had a load of fun torturing my little hitchhiker. Hurting boys energizes me and turns me on like nothing else can. But after hours of non-stop sex and torture I needed a break. My lover and fellow sadist Tricia wasn’t due for a couple of more hours. So I plopped down on the sofa and watched my boy suffer. His body was reacting nicely to the vibrators I'd rammed up his butt. Like they say, or like they should say, there’s rest for the wicked (that’s me)but none for the innocent little boys (like jimmyslut). That could be my motto. It’s funny but I find it relaxing to listen to a boy shrieking in agony and thrashing in pain while I sip some wine and munch on some cheese. So I revitalized myself with a little rest. I indulged myself in food, drink and some vicarious fun while tommyslut learned just how brutal and harsh his short life was going to be.

  As I watched tommyslutwrithing and jerking about as the vibrators worried away inside his ass I was reminded of my cousin Andy. He'd been one of the first boys I'd ever tortured.  Tommyslut's hips jerked and heaved just the way my cousin Andy's had when I'd tied him up that day and taken a pair of pliers to his cock. I hadn't thought about Andy in years. Andy was long dead. I'd been there for the happy event. So had my Mom.Andmy Aunt Becky.She was Andy’s Mom. My Mom and her sister Rebecca were born sadists just like me. The get it from grandma Bridgitte.She’s from the Netherlands. Which makes her Dutch. She grew up there way back during the depression.

My Omais in her eighties now. Oma is the Dutch word for Grand Mommy. I’ve called Grand Mommy Decker my Oma forever. My spry and lively eighty five year old Omastill likes to hurt boys. She doesn’t need to do it every day like I do but Grandma Bridgitte can still make a man shriek in agony for as long as she wants. She was the first women in our family tofully explore her sadistic nature. Without guilt.And for awhile without risk. But that’s a long story. Grandma was twenty when she immigrated to the United States. But she’s already snuffed a bunch of guys by then. A whole bunch of guys.Of course she’d had an opportunity I’ll never get. Grandma Bridgitte was the Mistress of a GermanS.S. officer. He ran a World War Two Nazi concentration camp in the Netherlands. She was sixteen when the Germans invadedher country.Right away Grand Mommy saw the way the Nazis treated the Jews and Dutch resistance fighters andthe Gypsies and the Pollacks. She knew she had to get in on the fun. So she seduced the young SS officer in charge of the new concentration camp near her home town of Vught. She said it was easy. I believe her. I’ve seen photos of Oma when she was young.

After the foolish officer fell for her Grand Mommy persuaded the arrogant man to let her play with the male prisoners before they were shipped off to Germany and the ovens. She knew what happened to German prisoners. It was an open secret in the feeder camps in  countries outside the Homeland. Over one hundred thousand prisoners went through the camp near Vught. More than half were men or boys. Grand mommy got her pick of any man she wanted. She was the commandant’s mistress after all. Germans make good soldiers. They follow orders. Grandma controlled her commandant subbie and he controlled the men in camp. So Grandma got to play however she liked with as many of the prisoners as she wanted. She says her prissy submissive commandant liked to watch as she tortured and snuffed the prisoners under his command. Gram says she tortured over two hundred men to death in the three years she was there. That’s more than one a week. It must have been heaven for her. She says sometimes she got to do three or four all at once.She has some wonderful stories from those times. That’s when Oma figured out she was a sadist at heart. Shedecided she was glad about it.

She was smart though. Way before the end she could see the Germans were going to lose. So she made it to France and got herself lost in the chaos towards the end of the war. In the euphoria of war’s end it was easy to seduce some idiot American G.I. and get him to take her to America with him. She wound up in Boston in 1945. My Grandma Bridgitte found the United States the perfect place to indulge her new found passion for torturing men. She says American men are a lot more trusting and vulnerable than the Europeans she’s known. So you can see how Mom and me and my Aunt Becky came by our cruel and wicked natures. Mommy always told me it’s good and right and beautiful for a sadistic girl like me to do what comes naturally. Even if what she likes is torturing men. I can still hear the way Mommy would laugh when I was little and say how it’s especially good and natural and right if a girl likes snuffing men. So I guess it’s in my blood, this lust for torturing boys and making them suffer before snuffing them slowly.

Watching my hitchhiker thrash around and thinking about Mom and my Oma got me kind of melancholy. And that got me to thinking about how much fun I’d had with my first real sadistic experience. It was when I’d tortured my cousin Andy that first time. I really hurt him good. Andy was a couple years older than me.  Aunt Becky started his slut training real young so by the time I was thirteen my older cousin couldn’t help but obey me.

I made him strip. Then I made him jack off while I watched. I wouldn’t let him come. I just wanted him hard and horny and frustrated. I had a cruel game in mind and a hard cock would make it more fun. I remember how Grandma had told me a story about when she used to jack off some her male prisoners in that German camp to torment them. She’d tease them and make them think she was going to fuck them. Instead she would jam a hollow glass tube down their pee hole. Then she’d pound and punch the guy’s dick so the glass would break inside his penis. The guy would howl and fall to the floor screaming and holding his dick. Oma said she always got a kick out of doing that to the pathetic prisoners of war. She said the men would piss bloody pee for a week. And they’d just about faint every time they had to take a piss.After she ruined the inside of their cocks OmaBridgitte kept them suspended over a big metal tub in her “laboratory”and made them drink gallons of water just so they would piss all the time.And cry and scream and beg her to make the horrible pain stop. Grand Mommy Bridgitte just loved watching them suffer.

I didn’t do that to my cousin Andy. I wanted to but Mom and Aunt Becky didn’t want me to go that far with the boy. At least not then. But I did squeeze half a tube of one of those sports balms down his prick. It was called Deep Heat or something like that. It’s a cream that you rub on a muscle and it generates heat and gets real hot on your skin. It’s supposed to help with sore muscles. When you squirt half a tube down a boy’s swollen penis it makes his cock burn real good. From the inside out. It was hilarious the way Andy screamed and ran around trying to make theawful pain stop. I’d cuffed his ankles together so he kept falling down as he hopped about the room. He begged me to rinse his dick out. He said it was like there was a fire burning inside his cock. It was great. I had no idea something so simple could cause so much pain. I made him sit on the floor so I could wrap my arms around him and hold him. His whole body was shaking and convulsing so nice for me. And then when he had to pee I took him into the bathroom and held his cock for him while he did it. The hot piss flowing through his tortured cock made him scream some more. That was the most fun I’d had with a boy up to then.

It was a good lesson. Sometimes the best tortures are the ones that take almost no effort on my part. Like touching the hot tip of my cigarettes to a boy’s private parts. Or simply sitting on a boy’s face and smothering him until the panic builds up so much in him his body goes into a frenzy of convulsions and he swears he’ll totally love and totally obey and totally cherish you after you let him breathe again. Of course picking up a good cane and whacking a boy’s ass until it’s a mess of welts and bloody streaks is fun too. The physical pleasure form hitting a boy’s backside as hard as you can dozens of times is intoxicating. Sometimes I can hardly stop myself. Plus it can give a girl a good workout, help her keep her wickedly seductive figure. So it really doesn’t matter. Soft and easy or hard and fast. Torturing boys is a blast and it’s really good for a girl’s mental health. Best of all it’s a real turn on.

I still have my cousin Andy. He was raised to be a woman’s slave. Trish and I have smothered the little fucker senseless so many times poor Andy’s dumb as a door knob. But he’s still handy to have around even now. He usually stays here at the studio/dungeon. After we snuff jimmyslut I’ll have my empty headed but obedient cousin get rid of the body. Andy’s good at that. He’s had lots of practice. We still use the same method of disposing that Mom and Aunt Becky came up with thirty years ago. There’s a big ceramic’s kiln in our ‘studio’. It’s shaped like an octagon and a boy fits in there just right if you bend his knees. The kils in gas fired and it gets hot. Real hot.Twenty two hundred degrees hot. Put a body in there and in eight hours all that’s left is a pile of ash. Aunt Becky got the idea of using a kiln from Oma and her war stories. Oma has hundreds of fascinating stories about the men she played during the war.

Sixty years after the big war Grandma still gets excited when she tells her stories about torturing men in that prison camp. She says she had a thing for Russian men. Apparently the Dutch have always been irritated with Russians. She said of all the nationalities and groups in the camp Russian men were the most fun for her to set on fire.She’d gag a man with an oil soaked rag, tie his hands behind them then chain him to a steel stake in the ground. Then she’d pour half a bucket of old motor oil on the guy and light him up. In winter she’d stand close enough to warm herself from the flaming Russian and laugh as he danced for her. My Oma said Russian men were hardy. They suffered a long time before they stopped jerking and twitching.

Grand Mommy Bridgittedidn’t much care for the Polish men. She’d strip them naked and tie their hands behind their backs then impale them on wooden stakes dug into the ground. She’d make the Pollack plant his own pole in the ground first. I don’t think the German or Dutch words for Polish men are as similar as they are in English. But even back then Grand Mommy knew English and she got a kick out of making the Pole sit on a pole.

After her stupid Pollack dug his hole and planted his pole Oma would get some dumb German privates to hoist the man up on the wooden post. She’d laugh as her victim slid down the pole real slow and the rough splintery wood got shoved up his butt. With his ankles tied together around the pole all the poor bastard could do was scream while his own weight forced more and more wooden pole up his ass. If Grand Mommy picked the right sized pole and a strong enough Pollack it could take a couple hours for the man to die. She says she’d get so aroused she’d start creaming in her panties every time she made a dumb Pollack start to dig his hole.

If the guy was really suffering and Oma got really excited she’d straddle on of the dumb German private’s heads and make him lick her pussy while she watched her Pollack impale himself.Her boyfriend commandant was so infatuated with Oma he didn’t even complain whenOma told him all about her day’s adventure. It was a wild time back then. With the chaos and the cruelty and the primitive conditions out in the sticks Oma could literally get away with murder. For a sadistic and pretty blond Dutch girl still her teens it was an insanely liberating experience. Oma was a changed woman after that.

Those happy thoughts of the freedom Grand Mommy had during the war got me slightly aroused. So I refilled my wine glass and burned my tommyslut with my cigarette a couple times before snubbing it out on his pee hole. Iwondered what OmaBridgitte was doing now. And what my Mom and Auntie Becky were up to. Mom had been so cool about letting me torture boys. Aunt Becky had been cool too. She'd always encouraged me to play my wicked games with her son Andy. Aunt Becky was neat that way. She’s a sadist just like me. Andlike my Mom. And my Grand Mommy. It’s a tradition in our family and it's a really good one. Snuffing our husbands and our brothers and our little boys is a tradition too. One I like a lot. Mom’s birthday was in a few weeks. I’d have to collect some sweet innocent boys and throw a party. A snuff party. I’d invite all the naughty girls in my family. And Trish of course. She’s my BFF. We do everything together.

  Thinking about all that got me really deep into the mood to play some more. I lit a fresh Virginia Slim and burned tommyslut some more. He screamed real good when I pressed the hot tip of my cigarette against his cock. While he shrieked and jerked in agony I contemplated how far I'd progressed since I first hurt a boy bad enough to keep him home from school all day. I was still in sixth grade when I did that. Poor cousin Andy. He cried for hours and couldn’t pee right for three days. After I’d squirted half a tube of that sport balm down his dick and he ran around like a mad man and I made him sit so I could feel his body twitch and shake and jerk as spasms of pain gripped his cock I made him stand so I could whip his sweet little boy ass.

Iwhipped his butt so savagely with his own belt he had welts for more than a week. That pleasant memory made me chuckle. I’d have to whip jimmyslut’s butt before the day was over.  I chuckled at the thought and blew a cloud of smoke in tommyslut's face. Then I burned my hitchhiker’s cock again. That's what I'd done over twenty years ago when I'd started torturing my cousin Andy with my cigarettes. Of course back then I only burned him in places that wouldn’t show. So nobody would ask questions when he went to school.Andy was well trained even then so he wouldn’t talk. Even so you don’t give dull vanilla people reason to wonder about you. But I could still burn his cock and his balls and his thighs and his belly. I'd had a lot of fun burning boys over the years. I'd had a lot of fun torturing boys the last twenty years. And my cigarettes and cigars and matches and lighters were a major source of my wicked fun. It pisses me off that you can’t smoke anywhere you want anymore. A girl can have a lot of fun with a boy and a lit cigarette.

  I was not quite thirteen when I started smoking. A couple of older girl friends gave me my first cigarette. The three of us girls had just kicked the crap out of an older boy. We did him just for the fun of it. And because the boy was an easy target. Back then TriciaDeeringand Sarah Copeland and I beat up boys together all the time. We liked it. My future lover Trish and I first got to know and learned to love and other while hurting boys. And we haven’t stopped since.Loving each other.And hurting boys.

Back on that day when I was started smoking for real Sarah, Trish and I had justfinished kicking the shit out of this kid named Jason Weldon. We were laughing and catching our breath whenTricia offered me that first cigarette. It was a Marlboro 100. She used a silver Zippo to give me a light. I felt so cool with that slender white tube dangling from my lips. I felt slightly naughty too. And nasty.And grown up. I liked the feelings. I was still buzzing from the excitement of hurting Jason and the smoking seemed to fit my mood perfectly. I was hooked. A cigarette after savagely beating a guy until he's sobbing like a pussy boy just seemed like the perfect way to wind down.

   Years later when Trish was about to graduate college we ran into that boy Jason at a bar one night. He remembered us. And the beat downs we used to give him. He wasn’t mad about it. In fact the little perv asked if we still did that to guys. We laughed and told him we only did it if the guys paid for it. What a hoot. He pulled out his wallet, gave us all his cash and said we could stop by and ATM and he’d get us another five hundred if we’d go back to his place and bust his balls some. Well what girl can pass up an offer like that. Tricia and I had a fun time with Jason. We drained that boy dry in four months. Cleaned out his bank account, even got him to sell his car and his TV and all his stuff for us. When he was out of money Trish told him he was a worthless piece of shit and she never wanted to see him again

. The guy cried! He sobbed and begged her to hurt him some more. Jason said he’d do anything for us if we just wouldn’t send him away. So we made him our slave. He was our first not counting cousin Andy. But my Aunt Becky really did most of Andy’s training. So Jason was the first boy Trish and I turned into our obedient little slut all on our own. He lasted four years. We wore the poor boy out. At the end he was pretty worthless. So we set him on fire. Just for the fun of it. But before we snuffed him he was handy to have around for odd chores. Trish and I have kept at least one real, true slave around ever since.

     So in a way Trish and I owe Jason a debt of gratitude. Yeah. Right. Like women like us could ever owe a guy anything. Anyway way back when I was thirteen Jason was just another boy at school a few of us more modern and dominate girls tormented. Those were good times. Especially that day with Jason when Trish more or less let me into the inner circle of the mean girls at school. A few weeks after that beat down of Jason later Mom found out what I'd been doing with my friends. Not about us beating up boys. She already knew I liked to hurt boys.Mom was cool with that. She’d gotten me started on that special fun herself. I'd been hurting my brother Bobby and my cousin Andy for years by the time I turned thirteen.  Mom and Aunt Becky both knew how much I liked to hurt boys. Heck, they enjoyed tormenting the boys too.  But hurting boys is one thing.  Sucking that delicious but noxious cigarette smoke into your lungs was another. Mom thought that decision merited a talk.

My Mom smoked. So did my Aunt Rebecca. But not in our house.And mostly just socially.Or after they'd played rough with a man.I guess you could say Mom was a social smoker. If you consider torturing boys with your sister and your daughter a social activity. Even so I didn't know how Mom would react to me smoking. Shealways insisted I stay healthy and in shape. We ate right and took care of our bodies and our looks. Mom made me take dancing lessons and karate lessons and even boxing lessons. She said I'd have more fun with boys if I could enjoy all the physical pleasures.She’d even let me start sipping watered down wine by the time I was thirteen. But she’d never encouraged me to smoke. Fortunately Mom was cool with my smoking right from the first. She knew I wouldn’t over indulge in that when I could  over indulge my real passion, torturing boys. So a week or so after I started smoking Mom saw my pack of Virginia Slims lying on my dresser one morning. I thought she might give me shit about it but she didn't. Instead she asked if she could bum one. We both lit up, sat on the bed and smoked together.  Which was unusual. Mom almost never smoked inside because of Dad's allergies.  She'd beat the crap out of him with belts and canes and wires and whips but she didn't often smoke in front of him. Go figure.

  Anyway, while we enjoyed cigarettes together Mom gave me the talk. Not about the dangers of smoking. She knew I wasn't going to listen to any of that crap. And not about sex either. We'd had that talk the year before. Back then Mom said sex was fun. She said as long as I made the boy wear a rubber and I stayed in control she was fine with me fucking as many guys as I wanted. She even offered to bring home this subbie college kid she knew so I could fuck a guy who knew how to treat a girl right. I'd jumped at that chance. That was a good six months before my first cigarette with Tricia and Sarah. Before Mom brought her college aged slut for me to experiment with I'd fooled around with boys. I'd given them hand jobs and I'd made a couple of boys lick and eat my cunt. But I hadn't actually fucked a boy. The boys I played with had little three and four inch boners. I couldn't see how having one of those pathetic things inside me would do much.

  So I said yes when Mom offered me a twenty one year old  man. She brought the guy home the next day and I spent six hours with that boy and his ten inch cock. Mom let us use her bedroom. She even left out some sex and dominance toys for me to experiment with. My Mom was a professional Dominatrix when she was younger. She still likes to dabble in that some. She meets some really fun guys that way. So she has some toys. And some wonderful ideas about how girls like us should use men. The boy she brought me was fun to play with.  And he did know how to treat a girl like me. He let me do anything I wanted to him. He said he owed my Mom big time. And since he'd do anything for her he'd do anything for me. That's why I like my Mom so much. She's reasonable, she's smart. And she knows how to get what she wants. I hope I'm like her when I'm older.

  Anyway, when Mom caught me smoking that first time she wasn't going to bull shit me about how it's dangerous. Nope. Not my Mom. Instead she told me how a young girl with a cigarette dangling from her mouth can be a magnet for certain kinds of boys. And men.And if used right cigarettes give a girl tremendous power over those men. She said I'd look more mature if I used my cigarettes the right way. She said I could attract older guys, guys with money, guys only too happy to spend their money on me. She said guys who liked to watch women smoke often times liked for women to hurt them too. Mom and I both love to hurt men. But it wasn't like I didn't know about all that already. Why do you think I started smoking in the first place. Mom laughed when I told her how I was screwing one of my teachers so I'd get an A in his class without even having to show up. And how I always managed after I screwed my teacher to drag the hot coal of my cigarette across his chest. I did it slow enough to leave a lovely red welt that took days to heal. Mom and I had a good talk that afternoon.

She's so cool. She taught me all kinds of tricks a woman can do with a cigarette. Dangling it from your lips, teasing it out of the pack with your fingers,  playing with the burning match before you light it, doing snaps and French inhales. Mom was expert at using her cigarette to seduce men. I am too now. And it really suck a woman can’t just light up anywhere like she could when Mom was my age. But we adapt, we learn, we make do. There are great drugs now that you can use on a man. Cialis, Viagra, Ecstasy, anti-anxiety drugs. So time moves on and the smart sadistic little girls learn to move with the times.

But as cool as Mom was with me smoking then my Dad was a real shit about it. He had a fit when he found out I smoked. Of course it didn’t matter. Daddy didn’t matter. I knew that. Mom knew that. And deep down inside Daddy knew he didn’t matter. Mom only kept him around cause he made a ton of money with his business. He was a big shot at his company but he was lower than shit at home. And he knew it too. But sometimes the idiot would get all righteous and act like having a sadist for a wife and daughter who was following in Mommy’s footsteps was wrong somehow. Anyway, the next morning we were all sitting at the kitchen table after breakfast when Mom slid a pack of cigarettes over to me. I was surprised because Mom rarely smoked around Daddy or my brother. They had 'allergies'. The sniveling little weasels. We had a sun room on the back of the house that was heated and air conditioned for year around use. That's where Mom usually went for her smoke break. But hey, if Mom thought it was OK to smoke in the house in front of Daddy I wasn't going to argue.

  As soon as I lit up Daddy started complaining. What an ass hole.  He whined about how the smoke bothered him. He said nice young girls didn’t smoke. What a jerk. Daddy knew I was as bad a girl as a girl can get.  And who the fuck cared if it bothered him. He was only a fucking guy. I gave him that look, like he was shit, like I didn't give a crap what he thought or what he liked. So he went off on how he didn't like me smoking at my age and he certainly didn't want me smoking in ‘his’ house. There were rules he said. He turned to Mom for support but she just ignored him while she slid a 120 from the pack and lit up too.

  Mom blew a stream of smoke right in Dad's face and laughed.  Then she slapped Daddy. Hard. He was probably more surprised than stunned by the vicious blow. I saw tears in his eyes. And fear. And for some reason that pleased me.And excited me in a sexual way. Then Mom slapped Dad again. She told him to shut the fuck up. She used that word with my Dad. 'Shut the fuck up slut' she said. She told Daddy it was her fucking house and she made the rules. Then she smiled at me. And flicked her cigarette ash on Daddy's scrambled eggs. She made him take a bite of eggs too. She made him scoop up the part with her cigarette. That shut Daddy up.

"Your father has a problem with cigarette smoke Mandy. Now that you're smoking I think it's time we train him to like it. How about it? Want to see Daddy learn a new skill?"

  I guess I should mention that Mom pretty much ran our household. Dad worked hard and made good money but decisions about what to do with it and how to spend it had always been Mom's. That’s part of her philosophy, that women are the dominant half of the species, that men were put here to serve our needs, to cater to our interests. I can agree with that! I've been living that way for as long as I can remember.

  Of course, Mom has explained to me over and over that ours is a minority view, that most men don't want women to know just how powerful they are or just how easily they can subjugate a man. And society in general doesn’t exactly know how to handle sadistic women like us. So we can live our lives the way we want but we have to do it under the radar. She's taught me that in public we use subtle ways to get men to do what we want. But in private, with the right man, we can let ourselves go. When we're alone with a guy we can express our true selves, we can take what we want and do what we want to the weak men foolish enough to fall into our traps.

I'd seen Mom slap Daddy lots of times. He was weak, she was strong. She did more than just slap him that day though. When he really displeased her Mom would paddle Dad. Bare ass. And I got to watch. And after I turned twelve my Mom let me take a few whacks myself. It was fun. I was getting good at making Daddy's butt turn a nice bright red. Teaching Daddy a new skill sounded like loads of fun. My Dad's one of those weak men that women like Mom and me do things to in private we'd never be able to do in the open. The prospects of learning a new way to have our wicked fun with a man like that was too good to pass up. Maybe Mom would finally let me use a barbed whip on daddy’s butt.

"Sure. How're we going to do that?"

"First we send your brother to get some things for Mommy. Bobby. Be a sweetheart and run down to the play room. Go get my grey bag. There's things in there I want to use on you father. And you too if you give me any trouble Oh, and bring several pairs of cuffs too."

My brother was three years older than me. Mom officially adopted him when she’d married her new husband two years before. Bobbywas a decent kid. But he was a guy. And he belonged to Mom. She made him her slut within months after become his step Mommy. So Bobby did what Mom said. And he did what I said too. Mom insisted the boy learn to obey us and serve us. She said it's what boys are for. And I agreed. So my brother Bobby jumped up out of his chair with his breakfast half eaten and rushed downstairs to grab Mommy's bag of toys.

  Mom had several 'toy' bags. Like I said, she'd been a pro Dominatrix before she met my Dad. That's how she met him. He'd been a 'client'. What a fool. Mom made him fall in love with her. Because he was rich.And easy to control. After she married Dad for his money she didn't need the income from dominating men anymore but she still enjoyed tormenting them so she kept a space in the basement setup so she could 'entertain' her special men friends. She only did a man once a week or so. If she had a guy down there when I got home from school I'd sneak down and watch her play. There was a hidden one way mirror on the wall separating the laundry room from Mom's 'studio'. I'd sit on the washer and watch Mom do her thing. Since she only did it for fun she could be picky about the men she played with. So most were young, in good shape and pretty decent looking.

  The college kid she brought home for me to fuck that year was one of her clients. He's a kid with more money than brains and a fetish for women who liked to hurt him. Mom gave him to me after our first fuck session went so well. His name was Tom. I fucked him silly for hours. A ten inch cock on a twenty something year old boy who can stay hard for hours is difficult to resist for a girl like me. But mostly I hurt Tommy. It was more fun than screwing him. More satisfying too. Plus I liked that he brought me a thousand dollars every time I let him visit me.

  I liked watching Mom have her fun with her guys. I learned a lot that way. Even then she didn't need the money but she made them pay anyway. She made them payin pain more than they paid money. And since she only did it for the fun of it she could let herself go with her special boys. She mostly did what she wanted, not what they wanted. She’s never given a shit about them. Why should she. And after, when her boy toys left Mom would come in the laundry room and give me the tribute the losers brought her. It was my allowance. With the tributes and Tommy's money I averaged almost two thousand a month allowance. Not bad walking around money for a thirteen year old girl in nineteen eighty nine.  While I counted the money from Mom's sluts she’d explain why she’d done certain things to the guy she just tortured. She’d tell me how she'd given him just enough of what he needed to keep him coming back. It was all a game, a deliciously cruel and wicked game. The goal was to get a man so hooked on you that he'd do anything for you. Kind of like what Mom had done withDaddy.  And like I hoped to do to the rich man I planned on marrying someday.

  Anyway, I was eager to learn ways to manipulate and train men to do my bidding. So twenty years ago when my stepbrother Bobby got back with Mom's bag and some cuffs I wasted no time pullingout the things I wanted to use on Daddy. Mom had a dozen different kinds of cuffs. I'dseen her use most of them. She hadn't said what kind to get so Bobby got plain old metalones. I guess he didn't think Daddy needed the fancy fur covered padded ones. He'd alsograbbed a couple riding crops and some leather belts. And I pulled out the nipple clampsand ball gag from the black leather bag.

"What are we going to train Daddy to do for us Mommy?"

  My Dad was naked, sitting in a kitchen chair. His shoes and clothes were piled on the floor by the trash can. I'd seen Daddy naked lots of times so Iwasn't creeped out. I guessed Mom had been fondling him cause he had a big bonerand Daddy seldom got one of those unless Mom played with his cock. He sat therewith his dick poking up and his head down. Dad hated being naked in front ofme.Especially when he had an erection.

"Here, cuff your father while I get his mask. Pull his hands behind the chair.  Then use one of the belts to tie him to the chair. Poor Daddy's going to lose his balance beforewe're done with him. Bobby! Go to your room. I deal with you later.  You don't need tosee this honey. I want this game to be a surprise when I play it with you."

  My whimpy brother went back to the basement. A long time ago Mom fixed up a corner down there for his 'room'. It's had a thin old mattress on the floor and a cardboard box for hisclothes. It was dark and musty in Bobby’s corner. But Bobby was a good kid. He did what his Mommy told him to do. He was sixteen that year. He could be really sweet sometimes. But he wasa boy. He didn't deserve nice things. He didn't deserve to have fun or to get anypleasure from his life. Mom's worked hard to make sure he didn't get any either. Bestof all, I got to help her with that. So I knew we were going to play rough with Bobbylater. I could hear the wickedness in Moms voice when she sent my big brother down tohis corner. I remember I smiled as I tied up my Dad. It was turning out to be a fun day. How fun I couldn’t have imagined.

By the time I’d finished tying up Dad my Mom had dug out the mask thing she was looking for. It looked kind of like a deep sea diver’s helmet or something. But it was all clear plastic, a simplehalf bubble of see-through Plexiglas with soft rubber lining the edges. It was just the right size to cover aman's face. Mom positioned it over Dad and fastened the two straps behind his head. Whenshe was done you could see all of Daddy's face through the clear plastic. It was awesome.He looked scared. He looked anxious. He looked miserable. Like he knew what was coming. I liked it.

  There was a soft clear plastic hose sticking out of the front of the mask down just above where Daddy's mouth was. It was maybe two inches in diameter and poked out six inchesor so. Since the soft rubber lining on the edge of the mask was stuck tight enougharound Daddy's face it formed an almost airtight seal. The tube was the only way Dadcould still breathe. Which meant if I put my hand over the end of the tube he couldn'tbreathe at all. I was beginning to like this new game. We were going to smother Daddy.With our cigarette smoke. I was getting excited. I hoped Mom would let us suffocate Daddyuntil he passed out. That would be loads of fun. From Mom's smile I could see she thoughtit'd be fun too.

"There. Good, it still fits. This is a smoke slave's training helmet Mandy. We blow smoke down this tube and it swirls around and surrounds Daddy's face so he's forced to breatheit in. I used it on him some when we were first married. It's why Daddy has so muchtrouble with allergies and smoke now. But he's been such a butt head lately I think it'stime to renew my dear husband's acquaintance with this simple training device.  We'llkeep filling his mask with our smoke until he learns to like it. Or until he dies trying."

I was practically vibrating with excitement. I didn't get to hurt Daddy very much. Mom said I was too young to start that. Finally Mom was taking me seriously. I'd been afterher for months to let me do more with Daddy than simply paddling his butt.  But this smoketorture looked like it could be really stressful for Dad. I liked that. And Mom hadsaid Dad would have to learn to like it. Or die trying. I really liked the sound of that.

  Dad wasn't taking this new game too well. He was kicking his feet and squirming around in the chair and shaking his head back and forth so hard Mom couldn't get a decent holdof the tube so she could exhale a lungful of second hand smoke in Daddy's face. So shedid the obvious thing. She told me take one of the riding crops and start whipping Daddy'sballs until he settled down.

"He doesn't like this Mandy. His lungs get all gunked up and he starts sneezing and coughing and runs out of air. It's like drowning only slower.  Daddy hates the feeling.He gets panic attacks. But it gives him a better attitude toward women.  Doesn't itRichard. After twenty minutes of this you'll be begging for your little girl to lightup in the house all the time so she can blow her lovely cigarette smoke right in yourface. Won't you dear."

  Dad shook his head no. So I started smacking him on his balls with a riding crop. Mom grabbed a handful of his hair and held his head steady. We both lit up and exhaled our smokedown the tube. Dad's face was hidden by the swirling grey cloud and just likethat this turned into one of the best days of my life. We took turns taking drags andblowing smoke in Daddy's mask. We kept that thing full of smoke. Poor Daddy! He wasin hell. I loved it.

  He was strapped to the chair pretty tight but he still managed to thrash around so much he almost tore the mask off. Mom cinched the straps even tighter to keep thedevilish helmet in place. Daddy still fought though. With his arms held tight behindthe chair and Mom pulling on his hair so hard he couldn't really bang his head anymore. But he was jerking and twisting hard enough to make the chair bounce and dance a little. The noise of the chair legs banging on the floor interfered with the sound of Daddy’s sobbing and begging to be let go.

"Put an end to that squirming would you Mandy. Do whatever it takes."

  Daddy was being so silly. He couldn't win. All he was doing was getting Mom and me more excited. He knew better, I'd seen Mom play with him enough to knowDaddy understood that the more he fought the more out of control Mom got. Buthe was in a real panic from the smoke. It was irritating his eyes, his throat,his nose and especially his lungs. Not being able to breath because your air wasfull of your wife and daughter's cigarette smoke was not only a much slowerway to smother a man, it seemed to be a much more excruciating way to do it as well. Ithought it fabulous. I just hoped Mom was telling the truth when she said Dad had tolearn to like this or die trying. The idea of snuffing Daddy had been a fantasyof mine for over a year.

  Mom had said I should do whatever necessary to get Daddy to quit kicking so I waited until his legs were splayed apart and quickly stepped in closer tothe chair. Now I had both my legs in between Dad’s. He'd slumped down on thechair some with all his gyrations and he was naked so his balls hung just overthe front edge of the seat. All I had to do was lift my right leg some and myknee pinned Dad's balls against the front of the chair seat. The effect wasimmediate. I didn't even push my knee into Daddy's balls all that hard and hischest started heaving and he started huffing and puffing through that tube.He sounded like a cartoon bull getting ready to charge. Except Daddy was alltied up and he wasn't about to charge off anywhere.

  I pounded on his balls some more, lifting my leg to force my knee in between his legs. I found that if I bent my left leg a little first I could catch Dad'sballs between the bottom of the chair and my knee. They felt wonderful againstmy leg. If I pushed my knee up real hard I could feel Daddy’s squishy round balls. They were so tender, so vulnerable. I could just bouncemy right leg and Daddy's balls got crushed. Bump, Bump, Bump. Bump! Bump!

I bumped him ten times in a row. Kind of slow like. Before I was done Dadhad stopped kicking. His stomach was heaving, his chest too. But not as much asat first. Mom took a quick drag, blew smoke in the tube and then did it again.She passed her cigarette to me and while I was inhaling she covered the end ofthe tube with her hand so the smoke couldn't escape. When I leaned over shelet go and I added my smoke to the fog already filling Dad's mask. Then I banged himin the balls with my knee some more while Mom covered the tube.

Poor Daddy. He knew he should stay still, that the more he fought the more we'd torment him. But I guess his pain and his panic and his fear was just toomuch. He struggled. He heaved and he jerked and he flailed around as best hecould. His breathing was so tortured and so heavy that he was able to force smokeout of the sides of the mask. And I'm sure some tiny bit of fresh air was ableto leak in too.

But not enough to matter to Daddy. He was suffocating in his smoking mask. And Mom and I just kept blowing more smoke down the tube until we couldn't evensee his face anymore. I kept pumping my leg and smashing my knee into Daddy's ballswhile Mom and I smoked. Dad kept fighting but he was getting weaker, his movementsslower, less coordinated. It was wonderful.

"He's getting weaker Mom. How long are we going to keep this up."

"How long would you like to keep tormenting your father dear?"

  I grinned. Mom knew the answer to that. I'd told her about my snuff fantasy. Mom and I didn't have any secrets. Especially when it came to boys. And to Momall males were boys, even grown men like Daddy. So she knew exactly how longI wanted to keep it up.

"Until he's dead."

"Why Mandy, you'd kill your own father just for a little fun? You’d do it slow too wouldn’t you honey. So he’d suffer longer. What kind of daughter have I raised?" Mom laughed.

  Mom knew the answer to that. And I knew she wanted to do the same things to Daddy I wanted to do. We'd talked about what was going to happen to Daddy eventually. I'd told Mom howI keep seeing me and Dad in a snuff scene. Mom had told me she had the samefantasies. After that we started bouncing ideas off one another on the bestway to snuff Daddy. Eventually Mom agreed when the time was right I'd get todo him. I was hoping this was the right time. But Mom was being mysterious andI couldn't read her expression. So I kept pounding on my Dad's balls, tryingto turn them into mush.

  Mom finished her cigarette. After she exhaled the last of her smoke down the tube in Dad's mask she dropped the still burning Slim down the tube as well. Itwas funny how Daddy perked up when the hot coal landed on his face near hismouth. His legs jerked out, his head bounced against the back of the chairsome and he screamed. It was a bit muffled with the mask but it was a goodscream, full of pain and desperation and fear.

  Always before when we played with Daddy we tried not to make many permanent marks. Mom had a couple boy toys she entertained regularity and she couldburn them and cut them and pierce them and whip them till their skin scarredbut she tried to keep Dad clean. I'd always wondered why she was so carefulwith Dad. She said that if anything happened to him it would be best if thereweren't too many marks that would indicate prior physical abuse. Cause thatwould just get the cops all in a bother.

  But she'd just dropped a lit cigarette on his face and then laughed as it rolled around inside his mask and kept burning him for a good minute. No waythat wasn't going to leave a permanent scar. And on his face too. I looked atMom, raised my eyebrows, and smiled when she nodded back.

"It's OK to leave marks now. Anywhere you like hon. I’ve just decided Daddy's time is almostover. So burn him if you want. Burn him as much as you want anywhere you want. It won’t matter how it looks. Nobody but you and me and maybe Aunt Becky are going to see Daddy ever again."

  So I did. I put my cigarette against his cock, right on the tip, on his pee hole. God, it was great. His hip actually came up off the chair. I burned himthere again as his body went into wild convulsions. Mom laughed. She grabbedthe cigarette lighter off the table, flicked it to life and guided thebright dancing flame to Daddy's left tit. Smoke poured out of his mask as hescreamed and panted. It was so neat how his body reacted to the different kindsof pain and torture.

  With Mom still burning Daddy's tits I started to bump his balls with my knee again. Mom and I both had given up smothering him for the time being. Seeinghis reaction to the ball busting and tit burning more than made up for itthough.Poor Daddy. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to curl up to avoidmy knee to his testicles but Mom's tiny fire on his nipples made his chestrise up from the chair, which caused his hips to thrust forward andcounteracted his instinct to tuck up and protect his poor battered balls.This was a lot more fun than twisting Billy Gentry's tits.

"Mandy sweetheart, want to switch?"

  Mom was enjoying it too. I could tell. And like me she was ready to try something a little different. A girl gets like that sometimes when she'soverly stimulated. Just doing one thing over and over, no matter how thrillingand how much fun, loses its appeal sooner or later. At the pace we wereworking Dad over it was obvious we'd have to switch up frequently if wewere going to get all the pleasure from the man's torture we possibly could.

"Sure. I'll stay here to keep his legs spread till you get in place. Hand me your lighter. I want to work on Daddy's tits too."

  Daddy passed out several times that night. We played pretty rough with him. For a soon to be fourteen year old budding sadist like me getting to torture your ownfather like that was an incredibly wicked treat. And deliciously erotic. I wasso horny that at one point I sat on Daddy's face and made him eat me whileMom used her cigarettes on his dick. I must have had a dozen orgasms just fromthat one little game. And we played a lot more games with Dad that night. Wedidn't even bother trying to get any sleep we were so excited. Well, Daddywasn’t excited about what we were doing to him but he didn't have any choice.

  I'm not sure if I enjoyed it any more than Mom did though. I'd never seen her be so cruel, even with the usual pain sluts she entertained down in thebasement. I guess once she decided we were going to snuff Daddy she was finallyable to let herself go with him. I suspected Mom had snuffed men before butshe'd never really said that. I just knew that sometimes she'd take a newboy downstairs, some kid I'd never seen before and after a weekend of the mostwonderful male screams Mom would come up totally exhausted. And completely satisfied.

  Then she'd call one of her subbies and a couple hours later he'd come over to remove the 'trash' from the basement. She'd let me watch while her slavewrestled the metal garbage can into his SUV and drove off with it. SometimesMom took the pain slut she’d summoned downstairs for a couple hours of fun before she sent himoff with the trash and sometime she didn't. But she was always in a good moodfor days after one of those very special sessions.  Remembering how dreamy Momseemed after one of those weekends I couldn't resist asking her how it feltto kill a man.

"What's it like to snuff a guy Mom?"

"Mandy sweetie, what makes you think I know about that?" she giggled.

"Remember that boy you took downstairs a month ago? The blond headed boy. He looked to be a couple years older than me? Well, I watched what you did tohim. From the laundry room."

"I thought I'd locked that door before I started on my little friend. How did you manage to get in? And shame on you Mandy. You're only supposed to watch meplay when I give you permission."

  Mom looked cross at me. Like she was mad. For a second I was nervous. Then she laughed. And I could tell she wasn't really angry with me. Ever since we'dstarted sharing our favorite fantasies about the most fun was to snuff Daddymy Mom and I had gotten closer. And I realized that this day, that these lastfew weeks in fact, had been inevitable. Mom was a sadist. And I was too.Despite any misgivings she must have had about including a thirteen year oldgirl in a killing scene she had to know that I'd never would have forgiven herif she'd shut me out of this kind of fun.

  There's something so sensuous, so captivating, so god damned thrilling about holding a man's life in your hands and knowing that with just the tiniest bitof effort you can snuff him out as easily as you turn out a lamp. The feelingof power is intoxicating. I don't care if you’re a teenager, middle aged woman or agrandmother. For a sadistic woman nothing beats the feeling of killing a manfor the sheer pleasure of it.

  I was lucky. I got to discover all this with my Mom. And my step Dad. That was probably the best part, getting to snuff Daddy as my first kill. Snuffing my own father made itall that more intimate. And that's what I like best about taking a boy's life.It's so intimate, so precious, so fucking naughty. And sooooomuch fun.

  Mom and I tortured Dad all weekend. We started the Friday night before MemorialDay and didn't finish with him until the next Monday afternoon. Mom had it all planned.Sometime Friday night when Dad was passed out after a particularly vicious torturesession Mom and I went downstairs and played with my brother Tommy for a bit. Wedidn't hurt him like we were hurting Dad but we tortured that whimpylittle boy until he beggedus to stop. We hurt him some more just for fun then Mom chained him to the steel postin the basement. We left him there all weekend while we continued to slowly snuff out Daddy’s pathetic life. Itwas glorious.

  We were going to try and fit in as many of our snuff fantasies as possible with Dad in the time we had with him. Which meant we were going to try and kill him half adozen different ways. The trick would be to revive him after each of the first few killsso we could do him again. And again.And again.

  Mom knew a guy who was an EMT and worked on an ambulance. He got her one of those semi-portable defibrillators. This was all the way back in nineteen ninety or so before the portable defrib machines became popular. Now lots of folks keep one of those handy. I know I do. In case one of my victim’s heart gives out on him before I’ve finished having my fun with the poor boy. I learned from my Mom that snuffing a boy then quickly reviving him so you can torture him some more and kill him all over again is the way to go. It’s twice the fun. Or three or four times the fun if you can revive him that many times.

The EMT guy who got Mom her first defibrillator was Mom’s slut. He did what she asked. Having a slave who runs an ambulance can be handy for girls like me and Mom. Anyway, Mom got the guy to give her an oxygen tank, some stimulants and several other things to help keep Daddy alivewhile we killed him. It sounds like the opposite of what you'd want to do ifyou wanted to kill a man. But it's not if you remember that the reason womenlike Mom and me like to snuff  men is because basically we like to hurt them,we like to make them suffer, we like taking everything thy have away fromthem. So prolonging their agony simply prolongs our pleasure. And making themdie over and over again until their poor little brains turn to mush just givesus orgasm after orgasm. So keeping Daddy alive for three days of unendingtorture makes perfect sense if you're a sadistic bitch girl like me.

"Daddy? Are you awake? Come on silly. Mom and I want to play some more."

  He'd passed out from all the smoke. When Mom took off the smoke mask Dad seemed real pale. I think it was the second time Daddy had passed out. Itwas after midnight and we were just getting started on him. Mom said it didn'tcount if he passed out but his heart didn't stop. So we were trying to makethat happen just with our smoke. Although I must admit the kitchen was gettingpretty polluted. It was starting to smell like a bar.

"Daddy dear. Wake up now. Mom and I aren't done with you. It's early. We wantto have some more fun."

  Eventually he came around. Whenever Dad stopped moving, when he slumped over in the chair Mom would touch her cigarette to a sensitive part like his dickor one of his tits or one of his battered balls. If he flinched then we knewhe was faking. Then Mom and I would both burn him and crush his balls twice asmuch as we'd been doing before. It was fun. I almost wished Daddy would keeptrying to play possum. Getting to torture him that much in such a shortperiod of time was heavenly. But this time it looked like he'd really passedout even if his heart didn't stop.

  While Daddy was passed out Mom told me her plan. Daddy’s body was all messed up. We couldn’t leave it like that. Mom needed the body found so the cops would know he was dead. She wanted the life insurance. We didn’t need the money. But it was a matter of family pride and principal. When you did a man you took everything from him. Besides, Mom planned on marrying again. She’d need to be a widow first so she could get rid of her current husband.

So we were taking Daddy to the family cabin. It was way back in the woods up in the mountains. It was primitive. It was Dad's retreat from thehustle and bustle of running his chain of dry cleaning companies. There was a well andan outhouse and a creaky old oil furnace for winter. We were going to take Dad up thereand tie him up and torture him for a couple more days and then fix the furnace so it'd setthe cabin on fire. With Daddy trapped inside. We'd get to watch him and hear him burnalive. When Mommy told me all this I got wet. I saw her looking at me funny and realizedI'd slipped my hand between my legs and I was masturbating to thoughts of Daddy burning anddying and suffering so bad. I looked back at Mom and smiled a dreamy smile as I slid my fingersin and out real fast and climaxed. After my oigasmMommy leaned over and kissed my forehead.

  We had a lot of fun with Dad. Mom called her sister before we left. Aunt Becky came over to stay with my brother Bobby while Mom and I went to the cabin to snuff Daddy. My Auntbrought her own son Andy with her. Aunt Becky was going to stay with the boys while Mom and me took Daddy up to the cabin for four days of glorious torture. Aunt Becky would be out alibi. She’d say all of us girls stayed home with my brother and cousin while the big grown up man went off fishing. It was a plan Mom and Aunt Becky had used before. Under different names of course. A woman who loses three husbands to suspicious fires is a too obvious murder suspect. So I had a lot of different names growing up.

The guys seemed especially sensitive to pain that day so Mom and Aunt Becky and I played with the two boys and my Dad for hours. At some point Daddy begged us to spare his life. He said he didn’t deserve to die. Of course he didn’t. But that wasn;t the point. We deserved the fun of snuffing him. And our fun, however fleeting and frivolous was way more important than Daddy’s silly life. It seemed right for Daddy to suffer and die so I could have a few days of wicked fun.

     Thinking that made me remember my friend Trish and what she’d said about her own Daddy months ago. I mentioned to Mom that my lover Trish Deering wanted to get rid of her Dad too. Mom knew Tricia. And she knew Trish and I had almost snuffed that homeless guy a month ago when we’d kicked the shit out of him. I didn’t keep things like that from my Mom. She’d have been disappointed if I didn’t share all the exciting details of how I hurt my boys. Besides, my Mom had good ideas about how best to torture men and get away with it.  Mom knew Tricia and knew my friend was every bit as sadistic as we were. We could trust Trish. She was like family. And thinking of her as family gave me an idea.

I told them how Trish wanted to snuff her Dad too, and how we’d been training the loser for almost a year and how Trish was almost seventeen and close to being an adult and how she’d benefit from inheriting her Dad’s money and insurance and mostly how much Tricia would enjoy torturing the man to death. Mom laughed. Aunt Becky hugged me. They liked Tricia. Not as much as me I guess since I was fucking the older girl every chance I got. But Mom and Aunt Becky recognized a kindred spirit when they met one. And Tricia was good people. Or at least she was one hell of a good sadist.

So both Mom and Aunt Becky thought it was a good idea to involve Trish. And her bastard Dad.We all liked the idea of getting to kill two birds with one stone so to speak, or in this case killing two men with one cabin fire. Best of all it’d seem more likely that two men went to the cabin together to do some fishing than if my Dad just went by himself.  All we had to do was see if Trish was up for it and if her Dad was available. I called her. Turns out my sex crazed sadistic lover was eager to join in the fun. Like there was ever a doubt. My girl Trish knows how to have a good time with a guy.

  While Mom and Aunt Becky loaded Daddy in the truck I got to spank my brother and cousin. I made them strip first. While I whipped the ass of one of them I made theother suck the whippee's cock. Is that a word? Whippee? Victim is probably more accurate. My brother and cousin hate sucking each other’s cocks. That makes it more fun for me to make them do that. Bobby shot a load of cum in Andy’s mouth but I couldn’t Andy to come. Oh well, whipping his ass till it was a bloody mess was still fun.

I only whip boys to torture them. Anyway, that day the boys were sobbing and practicallyhysterical by the time Mom and Aunt Becky had Daddy secure in the SUV. As Mom and Ileft for Tricia’s to pick up her and Mr. Deeringmy aunt Becky said not to worry. She knew how to deal with the boys. We all laughed at that.We laiughed harder when Aunt Becky picked up a strapon harness, held it against her hips and made that thriusting motion that only means one thing. Well, the women laughed. The boys just cried harder. They knew exactly how my Aunt plannedon dealing with them. They'd felt her huge dildos pounding up the butts countless times.

We got to Tricia’s and her Dad had no idea what we were up to. Tricia let me and Mom in. We both had stun guns. Mom gave Tricia one and the three of us went to fetch her Dad. He was watching some sports show. We let Trish zap him first. She snuck up behind him and let his have it in the neck. He spassed out so Mom and I could jam our stun guns in his crotch and let the man have a good long jolt. Getting him tied up and in the car was easy. Tricia tossed some of his jeans and shirts in a duffle bag, I grabbed his fishing gear out of the garage and twenty minutes after getting there we left  for the cabin with two men bound and gagged on the floor of Daddy’s SUV. Trish drove her Dad’s car and followed us to the cabin.

  Doing our Dads at the cabin was marvelous. We took our time. Mom said we could do just about anything we wanted except break bones. We were going to set the men on fire just before they died andthe hot flames would destroy any evidence of the games we’d played with our snuff muppets.The fire would burn away the soft tissues. So we could paddle them and burn themand even use barbed whips on them to tear their flesh to shreds. We just couldn’t break any bones. That was OK. We had plenty of wicked fun with the two men anyway. We had ourselves some good old fashioned sadistic fun. It was my first real snuff. Tricia’s too. Itwas our Dads. They suffered horribly for three days. I was the last sight my Dad saw when his heart stopped and his eyes glazed over and his silly life drained away for good. It doesn't get much better than that.

I think the best part of snuffing Daddy was how sad he looked. He thought there was a special bond between us. I’d encouraged him to think that. The man new his wife was unspeakable cruel and he had to have suspicions that she meant to kill him one day. But I made sure Daddy always felt that I was more sympathetic than Mom. I lead him to believe I wouldn’t let her go all the way with him and actually snuff him. So when I was the one torturing him to the edge of death time after time for three glorious days it shattered my Dad emotionally. He was as close to losing his mind and all his humanity there at the end. I mean I made the man suffer! Mom said she’d never seen a man so totally destroyed. Fortunately we timed it just right. He was still a man when I snuffed him. He still understood who he was and what he was losing. It was beautiful.

By the time it was time to set the two Dads on fire neither could move. We’d beat the bottoms of their feet so savagely they couldn’t stand. Trish had stuck so many needles deep under their finger nails the men’s hands were useless. We removed all the needles before we poured the heating oil over their bodies and lit them up of course. A freak fire burning down a cabin and the two men inside can be explained. Fifty or so insanely sharp needles stuck under their finger nails, well, that’s not something a cop sees every day.

Mom had experience setting men on fire and making it look like an accident. You have to make sure their lungs are full of smoke and the inside of their throats are seared so the investigators know they were alive and breathing when the fire killed them. So we tore some of the bedding up, busted up a chair and poured some of the cabin’s heating oil in a big pot. Then we set that on fire and made my Daddy and Tricia’s breathe in the sooty smoke. Sticking Daddy’s head in that small fire was a real turn on.  I was so aroused that I couldn’t keep my hands off Trish when she forced her own Dad’s head down in the flames. Mom was laughing here head off as Trish and I tortured the two men and tried to finger fuck each other at the same time. As it was we took a break after we got enough smoke in the men’s lungs and fell on the bed to make love. It was wild fucking my sexy teenaged girl lover while my Dad cried and wailed to the floor next to the bed. Ever since I’ve always had the best sex with a woman after I’ve just tortured some guy and he’s still writhing in agony and wailing in despair.

They were still breathing when we set them on fire. Dad was even conscious. He looked at me when I poured the oil over his head. Mom let me light him up. I used my silver Zippo and started the fire at Daddy’s feet. It was fun watching the flames work their way up his body, licking away at the unburned flesh, leaving behind a blackened husk everywhere they burned. He started to really thrash around when the fire got to his balls and his cock. That was fun but not as fun as when the flames reached his chest and then his head and started to eat away at his face. At one point his eyes were shooting out flames and Daddy looked like something in a horror movie. It was neat. We all stayed and watched the two helpless men die in the fire and only left when their bodies were still and there was no more unburned flesh showing. What a treat that weekend was. It was my first real snuff and to be honest nothing else has ever quite compared. But I keep trying to equal that magnificent experience. There are so many ways to torture men. I won’t rest till I’ve tried them all. It’s good being me. It’s good being wicked.

My little reverie about how good it is to be cruel and wicked was interrupted by jimmyslut. The poor boy had cried out in his fitful daze. Poor boy was so worn out he was half asleep even with the vibrators chewing away inside his asshole. He must be having a nightmare. Well buddy boy you’ll be in for a real nightmare when my lover Tricia gets here with your friend David. I wondered where my girl was. It’d be daylight in a couple hours. If I knew my lover she’d pulled over somewhere private and hurt her captive some on the trip back here. That girl had a harder time with self-restraint than I did. That’s what made her such a terrific lover. And sadist.