Pig on a Pike Her body trembles, a sheen of sweat glistening on her sweet, pale skin. Her hair lies in tired ringlets, her messy, smeared red lips pulled down into a terrified pout . You could love her. Crouching down, you reach toward her, nodding as a thick, terrified whine rises in her slender throat. Yes, you could love her-if she weren't so fucking stupid, if she weren't such a whore. You kick her hard in the ribs, smile grimly as she grunts, strains upward, bound legs spread wide on the cool dirt of the cellar floor. The process is never really satisfying for you, though it does have its rewards. You want to be wrong, want to be disappointed, and that you usually aren't is in itself disappointing. Take this stupid bitch, for example. Hanging in Lincoln Park, so cool, so hip, drinking with her little friends. Skirt so short it served no purpose other than offering a narrow swath of contrasting color for her tight sweater. Thong panties slipping so invitingly into the crack of her round ass. Heels so high they seemed destined to tip her forward. But that's not the test, you know that-even the nicest girls can be pressured into being fashionable. They can be corrected, instructed, taught to value themselves more highly. No, the test is one of willingness. One of offering, performing degrading, immoral acts for a price. Police may call it entrapment, but fact is, you're not forcing these girls. Not at first, anyway. You don't look like what you are-even the simplest bitch knows to steer clear of the wild-eyed man with the musty clothes. You are something of a chameleon, slipping in and out of character as necessary. It makes your job heartbreakingly easy. And makes the job of the police impossible. You approached her, jeans, a nice button down, boots. Blond hair a bit mussed, but fashionably so. She practically threw herself into your clutches. She followed you to your car, a dismissive wave to her friends. Climbed in, long legs folding so sexily beneath her, large, firm breasts fighting to burst free of her tight sweater. You drove for a while, throwing out inane small talk, then parked here-well, just outside, actually. She looked at the abandoned home with only vague interested, her eyes returning to you expectantly. You pulled out the pipe. She reached-you pulled away. Your hand grasped hers, pulled it to your crotch. Rubbed it there. She smiled knowingly, nodded, her fingers fumbling with your fly. Whore. She claimed 18, but you know she can't be a day over 15. And already a whore, willing to wrap her painted lips around your cock for a few tokes. You almost cried as her mouth enveloped your stiff, aching cock. So expert, so very talented, her tongue flicking, throat gaping to accommodate you. Her head bobbed eagerly, her hands cupping your balls, massaging your thighs. You moaned, biting back a sob as you wondered about her parents. Did her father know what a worthless slut she was? Could he even imagine his little girl gobbling a stranger's cock so eagerly? You listened, disgusted at the slurping, sloppy noises. Your hips jerked, rising to meet her as your hands descended to push down, harder, harder, until her nose was buried in your belly. And then you held. First she moaned, as if she enjoyed it. And then she pushed on your thighs, your hips, trying to pull back, get in a breath. And then she went wild, hitting, twisting, struggling for air even as your cock began to swell, twitch in her throat. The sound of her gagging, gulping, retching as your cock exploded in her face was almost more than you could take-you wanted to do it then. Right then, her stupid whore face impaled on your meat, her stupid eyes rolling, hands pushing, hitting. Your cum bubbling out her pert little nose, her throat constricting hard, working every drop from you even as tears flowed down her cheeks. It was all you could do to keep from pummeling her to death with your clenched fists. She sat, whining, sup-supping in the passenger seat as you handed her the pipe, the lighter. Did she try to get out of the car? Of course not. Her lips puffy, swollen from the face fucking, her mascara running with her tears, she reached out with shaking hands and took the pipe. Wrapped her puffy, lipstick smeared lips around it, put torch to the weed. Dragged deeply, then held it out to you with trembling fingers. You smiled, shook you head-no, this was all for her, payment for making you feel so good. You watched as she took toke after toke, her eyes glazing. You waited-you've always been so patient, everyone who knows you notes your ability to wait for results evenly, calmly. You smiled thinly as the pipe slipped from her fingers, a low, frightened whine escaping her trembling lips as her eyes darted jerkily to yours. Her small hand scrabbled at the door handle, grabbing, slipping, grabbing again. You never moved, just smiled, watched. She tumbled to the glass strewn gravel, her face scraping across the rough ground as her knees worked, struggling to crawl, her pretty hands clawing stupidly, weakly. You stepped out of the car, walked to her side, hunkering down to watch as she whined weakly, totally aware but helpless to escape. Her mouth open, gravel, dead grass, dirt on her lips, her tongue as her struggles cease, replaced by a low, even tremor shaking her small body. Her eyes wide, unblinking as you reach down, lift her like a sack of grain. That was 5 hours ago. You hauled her into the dark house, down to the dank, damp cellar below. The floor here is lumpy, uneven, the air thick, sickly sweet even under the candles, the incense. You stripped her slowly, drawing each piece of clothing from her with relish as her breath came in short, wet whimpers. Her eyes never left you-the only part of her that could still move. Your hands roamed over her easily, squeezing, pinching, kneading her firm breasts. Slipping down, you spread her limp, willing legs, smelled the warm wet of her pussy, then licked, sucked, teething her clit as she whined. Your fingers rough inside her, pushing deep, almost clinical in their examination. Rolling her on her belly, you drew her boneless arms back, lashed elbows and wrists tightly together, arching her shoulders. Her whines became more persistent, frantic, even though her body was still, helplessly drugged. You laughed, drew first one ankle, then the other up, binding foot to thigh over a steel pole. Flipping her onto her back, you began winding cord tightly around the base of each ample breast, yanking tightly, knotting the cord off between them. Her breasts standing up, away from her chest wall, like large, pale globes. Attaching rope to the steel pole, you lifted her, so she dangled upside down, blue eyes dark, staring at the floor below her. The first sign of strength returning came with the nozzle being worked into her rectum. She jerked slightly, gasped, then moaned, her body trembling as the scalding hot water rushed into her bowels. Small grunts, whimpers escaped her mouth as her belly cramped, burned. You could see her belly swelling, twitching as more and more of the steaming fluid filled her. Pulling the nozzle out, you jammed the butt plug in deep, trapping the scouring fluid inside her weakly trembling body. You reached into your bag, pulled out the bottle-Zoto's perming solution. Much more effective than Nair, its weaker cousin. You clipped the cap, began pouring it over her vulnerable pussy, being sure to work it deep into all the folds, a finger slipping inside to coat her with the caustic cream. Massaging it to the roots, asshole to belly, then sitting patiently, smiling, rubbing your cock through the soft denim as the solution began to burn her soft pussy, flesh turning pink, then angry red as her awakening body swayed, jerked clumsily. Her darkening breasts jiggled, rolled with her pathetic struggles. Her whines began strengthening too, building to moans, small, stupid cries as her cunt burned, her guts twisted, cramped violently. You rose, grabbed the small camp spade, went to work. Another hole, you're so good at digging them now. Precise, strangely caring-each girl gets a hole of exactly the same dimensions as the others, that way none are slighted, none have any more or less importance than the last. . . or the next. Sweat beads on your forehead as you dig, piling the cool, damp dirt neatly beside the growing grave. Her grunts, moans, gasps as her distended bowels emptied into the freshly dug hole reaffirmed your opinion of her-pig. When all pretense is stripped from them, they're all pigs. Snorting, grunting, spraying shit. Not human, unworthy to walk among people. You hosed her down like the barnyard animal she is, jamming the nozzle up her cunt, smiling as the hair on her pussy fell away, leaving her bare, clean. Dragged her squealing, piggish body to the sawhorse, you threw her over, her bound legs jerking, knees seeming to paw for purchase as you stepped in behind, your large, erect cock straining for her scoured holes. She screamed as you thrust into her tight cunt, the flesh inside her blistered, raw from the perming solution. Your cock thick, stretching her as you began slamming into her mercilessly, thrilling to her grunts, hoarse cries. Her small hands, purple from the tight binding, clench into helpless fists behind her, her dark red tits flailing, bobbing with each punishing thrust into her slim, helpless body. She groaned, sobbed as your cock jerked inside her, swelling, spitting forth your thick load. Pink tinged, it ran down her bruising thighs as you withdrew, small rivulets of seed on pale, trembling flesh. You let her tumble to the floor then, kneeling beside her as you muscled her onto her belly once more. Her struggles were intense by then, wild, her eyes wide, crazed. Thrashing, sobbing, beyond speech as you set to work getting hard again. Pinching, poking with needles, sticking wooden matches in her clenching asshole, then setting torch to them. 17 matches-one for every stupid pig that came before her. Her screams were inarticulate, body thrusting into the dirt as she struggled to escape your torturing hands. On her back now, her purplish black tits thrust up before her, head raised, neck straining as she whined, cried, watched you as you straddled her tortured chest. Pulling her ruined tits together, you began thrusting, cock bumping her trembling chin with each forward motion. She tried to lower her head, but you grabbed her auburn locks, jerked her puffy, tear-stained face forward, making her watch your heaving. You spoke to her then. Finally. For a moment hope lit her fear-darkened eyes. That hope was extinguished immediately, replaced by horrified realization as you told her how she would die. She struggled valiantly, admirably, but your knees held her at bay like a horse under you. You nodded toward the pole in the corner, watched her eyes follow yours as you told her that she would be slowly lowered onto it, over the space of hours, if not days, her body squirming as it pierced her. Almost clinically you explained how you would angle her body just right, trap her mouth open, crane her head back so the sharp spike wouldn't kill her outright. You told her how she would die of suffocation rather than hemorrhaging, the pike exiting her mouth, lips stretched tight around it, throat filled, blocking her airway. She'll dance, you told her. Dance like a puppet, lungs burning, guts a soupy sea of agony as blood flows from her mouth, her cunt. You smiled, cock rigid, eager for her virgin ass as you moved off her. Her struggles violent, eyes giant with horror. You told her to hope for a long, agonizing rape of her ass, because once you were done, so was she. You grabbed her hips, jerked her up, your thrumming cock pressed against her tight anus. Pushing, cruel, relentless, you ground into her, her hips jumping, jerking, her bound legs thrashing as you drove deeper, feeling her pretty ass stretch, tear around you. Her clean, blistered bowels clenched, quivered around your meat, milking you even as she bucked, twisted helplessly. You got a good grasp on her upper thighs, began slamming home hard, jackhammering into her as she grunted with each thrust, air pushed out of her with the force of your fucking. You held her tightly, her small body scraping forward with each thrust, blackened tits jolting, jiggling cruelly. Your cock jerked, spasmed inside her torn ass, then exploded, filling her sundered bowels with your spunk. She was sobbing uncontrollably by then, no hope of pleading mercy. You rose, looked down at her ugly form-dark, destroyed tits, bruised, legs spread wide, cum drizzling from her bald, angry red cunt, bloodied asshole. "And now you pay for being a pigwhore." You walk to the corner, grasp the cold iron pole. You stride back, crouch down to look closely at her drawn, smeared face. Pike in one hand, you reach toward her, nodding as she whines, cringes. You rise, kick her hard in the ribs before turning to seat the metal post in the grave, point up, base secured. You lift her, roll her, secure the chain to the ropes binding her elbows together behind her. You thread the chain carefully through the pulley, then yank with a satisfied grunt. A scream, a violent jerk, and the fulfilling sound of her shoulders popping, grinding, giving way. She sways above the spike, body twisting in agony, terror, her head lowered to her chest as she eyes the sharpened point with growing horror. You steady her with a firm hand, lowering her slowly until the tip is firmly entrenched two inches into her twitching pussy, then secure the chain on the wall hook. Humming a jaunty tune, you grab her damp hair, yank her head back, twisting cord from elbows to curls, forcing her head back at an agonizing angle, leaving her staring at the beamed ceiling. Looping cord through her gasping mouth, you jerk down, secure it to the knot between her angry, blood-filled breasts, trapping her jaws wide. Nodding, satisfied, you return to the chain, smiling at the flailing of her bound legs, the arching of her back as you lower her another inch. Her slim hips buck, jerk, more from terror than pain, though that will change soon enough. You grimace as the binding on one thigh gives, her leg kicking out freely as she twists, thick, gasping screeches escaping her trapped open mouth. You frown at your poor workmanship-no excuse for that knot to have given. You reach for her leg, grappling to catch it, her every ounce of energy poured into this one free part. She catches you spang on the chin, sends you sprawling, a thick, crowing sound of satisfaction escaping her. You rise shakily, rage coursing through you for the first time since you first laid eyes on her. You move toward her, sidling, wary, avoiding her flailing leg. You could just release the chain, let her own weight bear her down onto the murderous spike, but no-you want her to suffer longer, harder for defying you, knocking you down. Her leg kicks, thrusts, finds the cruel pole imbedded in her raw pussy. With an agonized scream, she kicks her hardest, unseating it, ripping it from her. You leap forward, amazed, enraged as she thrusts it full force from her. Your eyes fly wide as the sharpened metal pierces your belly, borne forward with the force of her desperate kicks. You look down, astounded, at the spreading blossom of crimson. She continues kicking, unaware that she has wounded you-mortally. You sink forward, unable to stop yourself, the pike driving deeper into your guts, scraping your spine as you fall forward. Your mouth opens, a great gout of blood rushing out as you stare up in stunned despair. Your ears roar, breath hitches as you suddenly, strangely smile. She may have killed you, but what she's bought for herself is slow death by starvation, dehydration. No one comes here, no one will find her for months-or years. You laugh, a thick, wet sound. You win.
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