12 Rooms

by

TheRapist

Prologue

This story is real. The materials in this story are all based on actual events that took place in the Nevada desert in the summer of 2001. The names have been changed to protect the guilty, but every detail of this story has been taken from actual transcripts and video tapes archived in the facility located in the Nevada desert known simply as 12 Rooms.

Room One - Tabitha

Prelude

Tabitha Warren opened her eyes groggily. Her vision was blurred and the world was tilted and out of focus. After a few seconds, she began to realize things. She realized the world wasn’t really tilted, but her head was resting on her shoulder. She realized she was gagged and apparently restrained to a heavy wooden chair that was bolted to the bare concrete floor by heavy iron bolts. As she looked around her vision began to clear, and then other realizations began to emerge in her mind. As the fuzzy shapes in here eyes began to clear through the fog in her mind, she saw that she was staring at a concrete room and covering the walls of the room were and immense number of implements of torture. Heavy wooden tables were lined along the walls of the room on her right and left and the tables contained more instruments for use in mutilating the human body. The two items that caused her eyes to come wide open were the chainsaw and the weed trimmer. Had the circumstances been different, she might have thought she was in someone’s garage or basement, but the variety of whips, restraints, sex toys and torture supplies dispelled that notion quickly.

She began to panic. She flailed her head wildly from side to side and pulled at the restraints on her wrists and ankles. She tried to scream, to cry out for help, but the gag in her mouth kept all sound to a minimum. After almost a solid hour of trying to break out of her bonds, to cry for help and to push the gag out of her mouth, she gave up and began to cry.

How had she gotten here? She tried to think and more of her mind began to clear. She remembered waking up, showering, getting dressed for work and leaving her apartment. After that, she couldn’t remember anything, so whatever had happened to her must have happened in the...

Morning

Tabitha Warren walked out the door of her Las Vegas apartment and the hot dry air blasted here like a furnace. It was going to be really hot today, she knew. Really, really hot; triple digits for sure.

She flipped her sunglasses down off her forehead and onto her nose, pushing them into place to block the sun. She locked her apartment door and headed down the stairs. She crossed what could only loosely be described as a courtyard into the parking lot and approached her car. She began digging for her keys in her purse and nearly had them in her hand when she noticed the van. The van was parked so close to her car that she didn’t think she’d be able to even open her door far enough to get into her car.

Some people, she thought. She thought she could squeeze into the space between the grey van and her cherry red Sunfire, but she didn’t want to get her clothes dirty. She went around to the passenger side door, thinking she could just enter from that side and crawl over to the driver’s side. To her surprise, some vandal - teenagers no doubt - had covered the lock on the passenger door with super glue. She tried to pick the glue away to no avail, and she tried to force the key into the lock, but she was running out of time and didn’t want to be late for work. Heaving a sigh, she knew she’d have to try and get into the driver’s side door, even if it did mean rubbing against the grey van and getting herself dirty right before work.

An odd thought occurred to her: She didn’t recognize the van. She’d never seen it parked here before, or anywhere in her apartment complex at all.

Oh well, she thought. Maybe it’s someone’s visitors or someone new moving in. She shrugged it off and started moving into the space between the two vehicles. She reached back into her purse and began digging for her keys again.

As her fingers closed over the keyring in her purse, the door of the grey van slid quickly open, nearly knocking her over. Before she even knew what was happening, she felt hard, muscled arms grabbing her from behind. She was jerked off her feet and into the interior of the van by one large man while another slid the door quickly closed again. A rough hand was quickly over her mouth before she could cry out. She kicked her feet, trying to get a foothold and... Well, the and hadn’t quite made it into her brain yet.

Before she’d even started kicking very much, though, the man that had closed the door grabbed her ankles and pressed them hard against the floor of the van, preventing her from even moving her legs.

A third man was also in the van, she realized. He was thin, not like the two brutes holding her. He was old, bald and wearing glasses. He was also holding something in his hand. It was a syringe.

She panicked. She didn’t know what was about to happen, but she had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good. How many news stories had she read where women were kidnapped like this, never to be seen again? Was she going to be one of those women?

Before she could even think about it anymore, the thin man was pushing the needle into the skin of her arm and depressing the plunger, sending some drug into her blood. In only a few seconds, Tabitha began to feel very warm and very sleepy. As her body began to relax, her vision began to blur and she began to succumb to the drug.

The two men holding her released her and as she was slipping into unconsciousness, she felt metal around her wrists and ankles. A second later everything went dark.

The Room

Tabitha was startled from trying to remember what had happened to her when a loud noise, metal on metal, startled her. The noise had come from behind her; she tried to turn her head to see what was happening, but she couldn’t turn far enough to see anything. She heard the grating of metal hinges and knew a door was being opened behind her.

She began shaking her head again and begging for help against the tight gag in her mouth. Nothing but muffled noises came from her, though. Certainly nothing intelligible enough to be considered a plea for help.

She heard the scraping of hinges again and the door was closed sharply. She heard the loud metal on metal noise again, and assumed the door had been closed again and locked.

Still unable to see what was happening, she heard footsteps approaching her from behind. The footsteps were coming around her right side and she turned her head to see what was happening.

A man in a sharp-looking business suit came into view from behind her. He was smoking a cigarette as he moved in front of her. He stopped a few feet away from her, looking at her. He looked right into her eyes, and then let his eyes roam over her body.

She just knew he was going to rape her. She could see how he was looking at her. She began to cry anew at the humiliation and violation she knew she was about to experience.

As yet, she had not been undressed. She was in the clothes she’d dressed in for work, except for her shoes. She had no idea where they were, and at this moment she didn’t care either.

“Yes. You will do,” the man said, dropping his cigarette butt to the floor and crushing it with his foot. He walked swiftly around here again, opened the door and left the room, closing the door behind him with a heavy clang.

She was confused. She didn’t know what had just happened, but she was glad for the fact that she was apparently wrong about being raped. The man had just left her there. He hadn’t even touched her.

She thought she heard voices from behind her, but it was such a faint sound that she might have been mistaken.

A few moments later, the door opened again and two men came into the room. The two men were large, like the men that had abducted her. They were dressed casually, in work shirts and blue jeans. The two men moved to her and began releasing her wrists and ankles from the restraints holding her to the chair. She was actually relieved. She breathed a sigh of relief and began crying again out of relief. Her relief was short-lived, though, as one of the men began unbuttoning her blouse. Confusion set in and she suddenly found herself wondering if these men would rape her instead of the man she’d seen earlier in the business suit. She tried to struggle and to keep the man from removing her shirt, but the man holding her was too strong. He held her easily, as if she was a child to him. She tried to kick out at the man undressing her and she actually connected with the man’s shin, but her bare foot barely even made an impression on the man. In order to better control her while she was being undressed, the man undressing her drew back his fist and punched her once, very hard, in the stomach.

She couldn’t breathe. All the wind had been knocked out of her. She tried to fall to the floor and curl into a ball, but one of the men was still holding her up. She was far too stunned to struggle anymore. The two men undressed her to her naked flesh before restraining her back in the chair as she had been before. The two men gathered up her clothing and left the room, leaving her alone and naked in the wooden chair.

The chilly air quickly made her nipples stand out and goosebumps appear all over her skin. She regained her breath quickly and was nearly hysterical in moments. She had no idea what was going to happen to her now. She was now naked in this strange room, strapped down to a chair and completely helpless. She needed to get out of here, but how? There was no way for her to escape. The torture tools on the tables included several sharp objects like a machete and an axe, but she was several feet away from the tables. Even if she could free one of her hands, she knew she couldn’t stretch far enough to reach any of the tools.

She threw her head back and screamed into her gag in frustration, knowing there was nothing she could do to prevent whatever was about to happen to her. She cried harder now, her tears were those of despair this time.

In a few minutes, the door behind her opened again and closed again. The man that had been in the business suit came into view again, but he wasn’t in any business suit this time. Now, he was wearing a sterile white outfit.

He look at her again and said, “Ah yes. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

He reached out a soft, well-manicured hand and took one of her breasts in his fingers. She shook her head and begged him with her eyes not to touch her, not to violate her, not to rape her. The man let go of her breast for a moment, but only long enough to slap her hard across her left cheek. Stunned, she looked at the man with hurt eyes, gasping sobs were the only noises coming from behind her gag.

“Ah yes,” the man said. He moved to one of the tables and retrieved a razor knife. He moved back in front of her, holding the knife before her face. Her eyes immediately were filled with fear. She could do nothing but watch the knife. He moved the blade behind her left ear - she knew he’d cut of her ear, she just knew it - and cut the strap holding the gag. He pulled the ball from her mouth and tossed it aside.

“Please...” she began, but he struck her again - harder this time - across the right cheek. She shut up.

The man placed the knife back on the table where he’d gotten it. He moved behind the girl for a moment, and then moved in front of her again. In his right hand, he had a small metal chair. He placed the chair a few feet in front of the girl and sat down in it. From a pocket in his sterile white uniform, the man produced a package of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag from it, replacing the package and lighter in his pocket.

He blew smoke and said to her, “In a moment, I’m going to release you from that chair. If you try to run, scream or talk, I will kill you with the axe on that table.” He indicated the axe to her right.

“To your left is a bare metal table,” the man explained. “You will go to it and lie on it. That is all you will do. If you do anything else, you will die.”

She looked at him with horror in her eyes. What could she do? Would he kill her? He looked like he would.

Soon, he’d finished his cigarette, again dropping the butt on the floor and crushing it with his heel. He picked up the axe off the table and moved to the chair, releasing her from her restraints. He watched her carefully and backed away a couple of feet. He held the axe at the ready and waited for her to stand up.

She waited several seconds, judging what to do next. She could try to run to the door, but what if it was locked? He’d be on her in a second and then he’d kill her with that axe. She could go for a weapon off the table, but could she really fight him off? And then what would happen? The big men would come back in and she certainly couldn’t overpower them.

She took the only option available to her. She stood up, crossed the few feet to the bare metal table the man had indicated to her and laid upon it as she’d been instructed. If he raped her, then at least she’d be alive. She waited for the violation to begin.

The man approached her and cuffed her wrists and ankles into restraints welded to the table. He stepped away, placing the axe back on the table where he’d gotten it. He was very precise in that way, she noticed. He always put things back exactly as they were before he used them.

“My wife,” the man said as he returned to her side. “Pardon me. My ex-wife looks a lot like you. She had an affair with another man, left me and took half of my money, investments and business. She even took my house, my car and my boat. What I do to you today serves two purposes for me. Mostly, it’s practice for when I can get my real ex-wife into one of these rooms, but it is also therapeutic and helps me to manage my anger until she is available for me.”

She hazarded to speak and asked him, “What... what are you going to do to me?”

The man looked down at her with deep anger. He crossed the room to one of the tables and picked up a carpenter’s hammer. He hit her hard in the belly with it, just below her ribs. All the wind was immediately driven from her.

“Shut up!” He hit her belly again. “I did not say you could speak!” He hit her again in the belly. “You will only scream and cry from now on!” He smashed the hammer down directly on her pubic mound, just above the pubic bone.

She couldn’t breathe. She was wracked with pain and her belly throbbed in agony. The last time he’d hit her had hurt worse than anything she’d ever felt. She almost vomited from the pain.

The man returned to the table and put the hammer down. He picked something off one of the many hooks on the wall near him, but she couldn’t see what it was until her returned to where she was bound on the table.

He held the instrument up and her eyes bugged out of her face. In his hands was a long leather whip with metal barbs braided into the leather every six inches or so. She shook her head back and forth and began to shriek hysterically.

“Now we will see how pretty you can scream,” the man said and swung the scourge.

Pain exploded across her chest as the whip ripped into the flesh of her breasts. One of her nipples vanished in a bloody red spray. She screamed as loudly as she could, tears running from her eyes and down into her ears. The whip fell again and tore another gash through her breasts. As bad as the first time he hit her was, this was infinitely worse. She shook her head wildly, gasping and shrieking in pain

The man raised the whip again and a long line of blood flew from the leather and spattered the ceiling above them. The whip came down again, tearing most of the skin from her left breast. She threw up at once, the foul combination of her bile and her breakfast covering her face. She coughed on her vomit as she tried to cry out more from the pain. The man tore the ravaged piece of flesh from the barbs of the whip and swung it again. Another line of blood spattered the wall as he swung the leather scourge.

The whip cut through her belly and she howled in agony again. The man swung again and another line of pain shot across her belly, then another and another. He was working into an angry frenzy and she couldn’t scream enough to keep up with his wild swings.

Eventually, all that came out of her mouth were hoarse moans. Her body from her breasts to her knees was nearly devoid of flesh and the table on which she was laying was soaked with her blood, as was much of the ceiling of the room and the wall nearest the table.

Her head lolled to the side as she began to go into shock. The man wasn’t ready to let her slip away so easily though. He put the scourge on the floor - it was too bloody to hang up again - and picked up a gardening hand fork. He bent over her and began tearing the flesh from her face with the claws of the gardening fork. She began shrieking again at the new, even more agonizing pain.

Her mind was gone or she might have worried at him ruining her breasts and face. Her looks were important to her; she wasn’t vain really, but she took pride in her looks. Now her breasts were merely mangled bits of flesh and fat, her firm belly was a torn bloody mass, and most of the skin was gone from her face.

He gouged the small claw through her face over and over, eventually ripping off most of the flesh and tearing both her eyes out from their sockets. She was mostly gone by then anyway. She couldn’t feel anything anymore, the pain had reached such a level that her brain didn’t even register it anymore and she was in shock from the trauma and the loss of blood.

Looking over the bloody mess before him on the table that only could be loosely described as a human body, he grinned. He knew this would do very well for when he could have his wife, her lover and her lawyer brought here. Soon, he would hear her cries of agony, but he would take his time with her. He’d make her scream for hours before he finally ended her pathetic life. Maybe he’d kill her lover first so he could rape her with his dismembered phallus before destroying her.

The body before him twitched slightly, some life still left in the battered mass. He decided to have mercy on this one. She was just the practice, the plaything, not the focus of his rage. He crossed the room one final time, taking a sledgehammer off the wall. He swung the sledge once, bringing it down on her face and crushing her skull. Her face exploded, blood and brain matter spraying him and the walls of the room. When he withdrew the hammer, all that was left of her face was an empty cavern of shattered bone, pooled blood and gummy strands of smashed brain matter.

A thin stream of urine ran from the cadaver’s bladder and into the drain in the table.

The End of Tabitha

Later that evening, after the man had showered, donned his regular clothing and gone back to his life, a caretaker entered the room, removed the body to a wheelbarrow, sprayed the room with soapy water and cleaned everything until it sparkled, and then sprayed everything with bleach to ensure sterility. The caretaker wheeled the body to the incinerator and disposed of the corpse. No evidence would ever be found.

Room Two - Lita

Prelude

Lita Delarosa struggled against the chains that bound her, she screamed into the gag covering her mouth and tried to kick out at the large, muscular man carrying her down the bleak, grey hallway.

She was a fighter and had fought the entire time during which she’d been abducted and brought here, where ever here was. The men that had kidnapped her hadn’t blindfolded her, but the van into which she’d been thrown had no windows and she’d spent the entire time fighting off the men that she wouldn’t have been able to pay attention to where they were taking her, even if she had been able to see out a window.

The man carrying her stopped, opened a heavy metal door and tossed her onto the bare, grey concrete floor of a room that could only be described as a torture chamber. She saw the walls immediately and the variety of torture tools hanging on them and knew that, if she didn’t escape from this place, she was going to die - and badly by the look of things.

For a second, she found it hard to believe that just a couple of hours ago, she’d been working out at the...

Gym

Lita had just finished sixteen miles on the elliptical machine, another sixteen on the bike, and had climbed the total number of stairs in the Empire State building. She felt great as she stepped into the showers. By the time the gym had opened at five in the morning, she’d been waiting in the parking lot for a half hour already. She’d jogged five miles from her apartment to the gym and was doing laps around the parking lot when the morning opener had shown up at ten til five.

Dwayne looked at her and chuckled as she ran in place in front of the doors while she waited for him to unlock them. This girl was a fitness nut, that was for sure. She was here everyday before the place was open at five and usually didn’t leave until five hours later. Her routine was the same everyday: She’d show up before the opener everyday, she’d wait outside, jogging in place, until the lights were turned on and the place was ready for business, then she’d come in, buy four bottles of water, and head for the elliptical machine.

She would spend the morning at the gym, and then dress for work and then head across the street for her shift at eleven AM. She worked at one of the many off-the-Strip casinos located in Vegas. She always had her work clothes in her bag, she always knew exactly how much she could work out and not be late for work, and she never, ever drove anywhere.

Lita had been a health nut ever since she was sixteen. She looked in the mirror one day and saw just another chubby Latina girl and decided that wasn’t good enough for her. She’d started working out, running to school everyday and playing as many sports as she could fit into her schedule. In a couple of years, she was lean, trim and slim. She graduated from high school and gotten a job locally at the casino where she still worked to this day. She’d maintained her health and her body, living the lifestyle of an avid vegetarian and working out strenuously.

She’d never really had much time for relationships, giving her life over to her work and her health, but she’d managed to attract a boy or two from time to time. One day, a woman had sat down at a table in the casino bar where Lita was a waitress, and Lita immediately knew this woman was different. She gave off some kind of aura, a presence or something. The woman looked at Lita’s trim body and did nothing at all to conceal her lust. Before the woman had left the bar, she’d given Lita her number and the instructions to call her within seven days. Lita was a little shocked. She’d never had a relationship with a woman before, or even considered it. She was not a lesbian by any means, but this woman had made an impression. Something about her made Lita’s mind reel. She actually found herself slipping the woman’s number into her pocket as the woman left the bar.

Lita had looked at the phone number each evening after work for five days, nearly calling the woman each day, but never quite bringing herself to do it. On the fifth day, she realized it was a silly notion. The woman would just be another fling, just like her boyfriends had been. She didn’t have time for relationships, even with powerful-looking women, and just because it was a woman that wanted her didn’t change that fact. She’d thrown the phone number in the garbage without a second thought.

That was two weeks ago. Two weeks before the van in the gym parking lot.

This morning, Lita had jogged to the gym as she’d done everyday for three years. Only this morning, a dark grey van was parked in the gym parking lot. The van was unusual and it gave Lita a bad feeling, so she gave it wide berth when she ran to the front doors of the gym. She kept an eye on it out of the corner of her eye as she jogged in place in front of the doors.

Suddenly, the van’s headlights were on, and the van was racing toward her across the parking lot!

Shit! She thought, looking about for a means of escape. She tore across the lighted parking lot, hoping to get to the casino across the street before the van caught up to her.

To her credit, she did well. The driver of the van was not expecting her to run back toward the van. He had to swing about quickly to chase her. She made it about three-quarters of the way across the parking lot before the side door of the van slid open and the well-muscled man inside aimed the taser at her.

She never knew what hit her. One moment, she was running for her life across the parking lot, the next moment she was rolling across the concrete, painful electrical shocks exploding in her back. She laid, twitching, on the ground as two muscular men exited the van and picked her up from the parking lot.

The two men carried her inside the van, handcuffed her and shackled her ankles while she was still stunned. She’d started regaining her sense as they were shackling her and she began to scream. One of the men hit her in the belly with a fist that felt like a ham, knocking the air out of her long enough for them to gag her.

The men were under specific instructions from their contractor not to drug the girl, so the men held the kicking, struggling girl the entire three hour drive into the desert. She took every opportunity she could to kick at them, scratch at them or to break their steely grips, but they held her fast for the entire trip.

The Room

Lita landed on her side and shoulder when she hit the concrete floor of the room. She immediately started to get to her feet, but the man was on her in seconds, slamming the door shut and then crossing the few feet of floor to pick her up once again.

As soon as he picked her up, she began kicking at him with wilder fury than ever. With a frustrated growl of anger, he pushed her hard against the opposite wall, her back contacted the heavy wooden cross bolted to the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of her again. As she gasped for breath, the man uncuffed her hands and restrained her wrists to the cross.

By then, however, Lita was ready to fight again. As soon as the man unshackled her ankles, she kicked him again, this time landing a solid blow right on the point of his chin. He sprawled to the floor, dazed for a moment. She immediately began tugging at the bonds holding her wrists. They were too strong for her to break free, though, and the man was getting up from the floor.

She watched him come at her again and raised both feet to kick him squarely in the chest, but he caught her ankles and hit her in the belly again. Once again, the wind was knocked from her and she was too busy gasping for air to fight back.

Damn! She growled at herself. That’s too effective.

Before she knew it, her ankles were secured to the cross and the man was leaving the room. The door closed with a heavy banging of metal. At least if she did die, she knew she’d done everything in her power to fight against the people that killed her. It was little consolation to her, of course. In the end, she wasn’t strong enough to fight her way out of the situation and now she hung helpless on a cross mounted to a drab grey concrete wall in a place only God knew where it was.

She looked about the room and saw her surroundings in better detail now. Directly across from here, facing her, was a heavy metal door, painted black. The door closed with a simple, but heavy latch that could apparently be locked with a padlock. So people could be held here indefinitely if needed to be. To her right and left, the walls were lined with hooks holding a wide variety of torture devices. She recognized some of the instruments from magazines and sex shops in the city. She saw paddles, floggers, whips, canes, and a variety of other things she had no idea of the names. Below the hooks were several tables. On each table was an assortment of items also for torture. She saw knives, hammers, axes, hatchets, a chainsaw, various medical equipment including various specula, forceps and other items she couldn’t name. There was also dozens of sex toys. Dildos lined a table, as well as butt plugs, vibrators, clit and nipple clamps, an enema bag and a set of vacuum cups among other things.

As she was perusing the room, the door opened and a man wheeled a contraption into the room that she’d never seen before. The device was on a short cart, like a dolly, the device had a large knob on the front of it and some kind of indicator panel that was presently turned off. Coming out of the back of the device were to long, heavy cords - one black and one red - ending in jumper cable clamps. The man left the device sitting in the center of the room and exited the room, leaving Lita to ponder the device’s purpose.

She hung there on the cross for at least an hour before the door opened again. She couldn’t believe it when the woman from her casino bar entered the room wearing a sterile white coverall. She closed the door behind her and crossed to one of the tables holding knives. She picked up a wicked-looking blade that looked like it should have been used to filet meat or something. Lita began to squirm in fear of what this woman might be about to do with that knife.

The woman soon stood in front of Lita, looking at her with fierce eyes. Still holding the knife at her side, she said to Lita, “I told you to call me. If you’d called me, none of this would have been necessary. This is the price of disobedience to me.”

The woman raised the knife and made a cut and Lita’s sports bra parted in the middle. Because of her fanatical exercise schedule, Lita’s breasts were completely flat, only the puffy nubs of her nipples rose above her thin chest. Her nipples hardened immediately in the chill air of the room.

The woman made to more deft cuts and the sports bra fell from Lita’s body like a limp rag. Another cut and the left leg of her spandex exercise shorts opened up showing off her well-toned, muscular thigh. One more cut and the right leg split as well and the shorts fell to the floor, leaving Lita covered only in a thin layer of cotton panty. The woman pulled the waistband of the panty away from Lita’s narrow hips and sliced through it twice, pulling the panty away in her fingers. The woman put the panty in the pocket of her coveralls.

The woman looked at Lita’s thick bush of curly black pubic hair, reached out and took the bush in her hand and pulled Lita’s hips forward by the hair. Lita shrieked behind her gag as the woman mercilessly pulled her forward. Lita’s ass was at least four inches away from the cross when the woman let go of her pubic hair and let her fall back against the rough wood of the cross. Lita panted behind the gag. That had hurt.

The woman reached up with her free hand and placed a finger underneath the leather strap of Lita’s gag and cut the strap with her knife. Lita pushed the ball gag out of her mouth with her tongue and began to beg the woman for mercy.

“Please don’t do this,” Lita begged. “I would have called you, but I don’t have time for relationships with my work and exercise schedule.”

“You don’t have time?” the woman asked furiously. “You don’t have time for me? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Well, yes,” Lita replied. She didn’t see the problem here.

The woman raised the knife so the point touched Lita’s chin and said, “Listen to me, you stupid cow. You should have made time for me. All you needed to do was to pick up the phone and call me. Had you done that, even if you’d told me there couldn’t be anything between us, you wouldn’t be here. But no! You had to insult me by not even having the courtesy to call me when I was nice enough to give you a week to do it.”

Lita could only look at the woman in shock. She was afraid that, if she talked, the woman would cut her throat.

“Do you think you’re the first twat I’ve approached?” the woman asked. “I’ve had dozens of girls like you and better, frankly, than you. The ones that had the courtesy to call me are all still quite alive and well. You, however, and three other inconsiderate cunts, were brought here to learn the punishment for your rudeness.”

Lita was shocked, and now deeply regretful of her actions. She’d spent many long minutes looking at the piece of napkin with the woman’s phone number on it, but had never actually picked up the phone and called.

“I was going to call, I promise,” Lita finally said, managing to make her voice work, despite the steely point of the knife at her chin.

“But you didn’t, did you?” the woman said, moving the knife away from Lita’s face. “You couldn’t have taken ten seconds to dial my number and say, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t think I can have a relationship with you,’ could you?”

Lita dropped her head in defeat.

“No,” she said weakly.

“Then suffer, whore,” the woman hissed and turned away from Lita, moving to one of the tables. She put the knife down and picked up a blue cylinder with a brass spout sticking out of it. The spout had a knob on the top of it. The woman also picked up one of those flint lighters like Lita had used in her high school chemistry classes to light Bunsen burners. The woman twisted the knob on the brass spout and clicked the lighter a couple of times. Suddenly, a flame shot out of the spout with a whoosh. The woman adjusted the flame so it was small and bright blue.

“Oh shit!” Lita cried. “Oh shit, shit, shit.” She tried to squirm backwards away from the fire, but the cross held her firm.

The woman stepped in front of Lita, holding the torch in front of Lita’s face. Lita’s eyes grew wider and brimming with fear as she watched the flame in front of her face.

The woman knelt down in front of Lita and touch the flame to Lita’s toes. The flesh immediately began to sear and crisp as the intense heat burned the skin. Lita shrieked in horror and pain as the toes of her left foot were incinerated.

The woman moved the torch away from the blackened digits. They continued to sizzle as the flame was lifted away. Lita’s head swam from the pain. She was terrified, shocked, horrified at the brutality and calmness at which this woman had just inflicted the most painful thing she’d ever felt in her life.

The woman moved the flame to the toes of Lita’s right foot and Lita’s world exploded into blossoms of fiery pain again. She howled and vomited on the floor in front of her. The woman, who had moved to Lita’s right side to torture her toes paid no attention to the mess on the floor. She’d get an attendant to clean it up in a moment.

The woman cooked Lita’s toes until they were extra crispy and, as Lita continued to howl in pain, she snapped off the big toe on Lita’s left foot, now that it was cool enough to handle. The woman turned off the torch and set it aside,  stood up, held the toe in front of Lita’s unbelieving face, and ate the cooked flesh from the bones of the toe. Lita, despite her pain, was totally mortified. This woman was eating her right in front of her face. She was making Lita watch her eat the meat of her toes. Lita’s mind boggled in disbelief.

The woman tossed the bones of the toe on the floor, bent down and snapped off another toe and ate it, then another, and another, until Lita’s feet were toeless stumps. The cooking had, of course, kept the bleeding to a minimum, and if it became too bad, the woman could just cauterize any wounds with the torch.

Once she’d finished with her appetizers, the woman looked Lita right in the eyes and said, “Delicious. Too bad I didn’t bring any garlic and rosemary.”

Lita was far too stunned to speak. She didn’t know what to say. This woman had just consumed all her toes as if she was eating a helping of chicken wings. While Lita was pondering this horror, the woman crossed the floor and opened the door. She called down the hall to someone. After a few moments, she began talking to someone outside of Lita’s line of sight, then the woman closed the door again and waited to one side of the room. Lita had no idea what she was waiting for, but found out soon enough.

A man in blue coveralls entered the room carrying a green hose. He washed the vomit and the bones into a drain in the center of the room’s floor. He asked the woman if there would be anything else, she replied there wouldn’t not, and the man left, closing the door behind him.

“Now, we’ll get to the meat of tonight’s fun,” the woman said. “Oh wait,” she chuckled. “I guess I already had the meat, didn’t I? I guess I’ll have to call this the potatoes then.”

The woman walked to the machine sitting in the middle of the room and took a power cord from the back of the machine. She snaked the cord to a hidden power outlet under one of the tables and plugged the machine into the wall. She returned to the machine and flipped a switch on top. The indicator panel came on and the machine hummed quietly. The lighted numbers on the indicator displayed the number 50. The woman picked up the jumper cable clamps and moved in front of Lita, still hanging from the cross in misery.

The woman opened one clamp and hung it from Lita’s hairy labia. Lita’ squealed in pain as the copper bit into her most sensitive of places. The woman smiled at the screams, knowing they would increase in volumm and intensity in a few seconds. She let Lita suffer in the pain the clamp caused her pussy until she felt Lita was getting used to the pain and calming somewhat. Then she touched the other clamp to Lita’s right nipple.

Lita’s body stiffened as 50 volts of electricity arced through her, from her burning labia to her tingling nipple. The electricity wasn’t sufficient enough to damage her, or to be truly painful, but it was enough to cause her body to buzz. The woman removed the clamp from Lita’s nipple, leaving Lita gasping and sweating as she hung from the cross.

The woman removed the clamp from Lita’s labia. She hissed as the removal of the clamp let the blood flow back into her tormented genitals. The woman, in the meantime, adjusted the knob on the machine, raising the number to 100.

The woman moved back to Lita, holding the clamps in her hands, judging where to place them next. Lita watched her in horror. She couldn’t even beg for mercy anymore. She knew it was fruitless to plead with this woman. No one that ate your toes while you watched cared enough about you to listen to your pleas of mercy anyway.

The woman dragged the clamps down Lita’s sides, creating surges of electricity all along her body and wracking her with muscle spasms and pain. Lita cried out this time as the buzzing became a full-fledged shocking sensation and her muscles twitched at the stimulus. It was over soon enough, though. The woman moved the clamps away from Lita’s body. Not for very long, though. She dragged the clamps down Lita’s thighs, causing her muscles to twitch and pain to course up Lita’s legs.

The woman dragged the clamps all the way down Lita’s legs to the stumps of her feet, and the clipped the heavy copper clamps to where her toes had been. Lita shrieked in agony ans the electricity surged through her body, but also from the sharp clamps digging into the flesh where her toes had been previously.

The woman left the clamps on Lita’s feet for two minutes, letting her feel all the pain and letting her mind dwell on the fact that her toes were now gone, and that she’d never walk properly again. Not that she’d ever walk again anyway, but she knew the mental torture was just as effective as the physical.

When she finally removed the clamps from Lita’s tortured feet, Lita’s eyes were squeezed shut and tears were streaming down her face. This was the first time Lita had cried during this entire session of pain and horror.

The woman turned the knob on the machine up to 250 and moved back to Lita’s tortured body. The woman immediately clipped both clamps to Lita’s labia. Lita immediately cried out as best as she could as her body stiffened and then jerked from the shocks and the pain. She wailed when the clamps made contact from her movements and sparks jumped between them. The clamps actually started to burn her labia, and the sparks had set some of her pubic hair on fire. The woman saw it, but made no effort to stop it.

She actually bent down and retrieved the torch from the floor while Lita continued to writhe in pain. She lit the torch again. Lita’s eyes were squeezed shut, so she didn’t see the woman do it. Not that it mattered anyway. With the electricity coursing through her body, Lita was in no position to protest.

The woman held the torch to each finger of Lita’s left hand, cooking each one as she’d done her toes. Lita shrieked at the newfound pain. She could do nothing, though. The electricity passing through her body, burning her, and the torch cooking her fingers were too much. The shock began to overwhelm her. She passed out, granting herself a brief reprieve from her pain.

The reprieve was a short one, though. As soon as the woman noticed she’d passed out, she removed the clamps carefully from Lita’s labia and turned off the torch. She slapped Lita hard. Lita didn’t respond. The woman slapped her again. This time Lita’s head rolled to the side and her eyes fluttered. The woman slapped her again, and this time Lita came awake with a start. Satisfied, the woman lit the torch again.

She listened to the delicious cries of agony and torture as she cooked the fingers on Lita’s other hand. Lita really started to sob now, her wracked cries interrupted only by the wails of pain. As she’d done with her toes, the woman snapped off each of Lita’s fingers and ate the flesh from them before her eyes. As before, she threw the bones on the floor.

The woman had just about had enough of Lita. She felt it was about time to end things, but she was going to have just a little more fun first. As Lita watched the woman burned of all her pubic hair, and scorched the skin of her pussy somewhat. Lita cried out in agony again, her sobs were now uncontrollable.

The woman again turned off the torch and set it aside. Reaching out to the machine, she turned the knob all the way to 500. She took up the clamps again and clamped them to Lita’s nipples. Immediately the electricity burned through Lita’s body, torturing her from inside. Her body jerked wildly, but her mouth was clenched so tightly, she couldn’t scream. Her jaw was so tight several of her teeth shattered.

As the electricity burned Lita’s flat breasts and cooked her nipples, the woman walked to the table and took the knife from it once again. Lita had it right. It was a fileting knife. The woman brought the knife back to Lita, ignoring the pool of urine and the pile of feces on the floor underneath her, and cut off her pubic mound, her uterus and her vagina. The woman packed the meal into a plastic bag she had in her pocket. She replaced the bag back into the pocket where it kept the panty there company until the woman could enjoy both of them later.

Fortunately for Lita, the electricity coursing through her chest had long since cooked her heart. Her lifeless body hung limply on the cross. The woman turned off the machine and unplugged it from the wall before leaving the room for the attendant and the caretaker to clean up.

The End of Lita

The caretaker entered the room that evening and removed the body from the cross. He called for the caretaker to come and remove the machine. There wasn’t much blood in this room, so the caretaker didn’t need the hose. He brought in bottles of cleaner and bleach and cleaned the cross and the mess. He did hose off the floor, though, sending the urine and the feces down the drain.

He wheeled the body to the incinerator and threw the remains into the flames. He turned away from the heat and went back to his chores.