Unreasonable Expectations and Revenge.

Page 1.

       It was extremely rare that I didn't pick a victim or victims at random, in that I'd had no prior contact with them, at least that they knew of.

       By far and away the most difficult, often seemingly impossible crimes for the cops to solve were the stranger to stranger ones and that all made perfect sense. While great efforts and resources were being focused upon the missing party or parties, none was being directed to the mysterious perpetrator because he was completely unknown. At least that's how it had worked out for me and I fully expected it to continue doing so for many more victims into my foreseeable, predatory, fantastic future.

       But this one was different.

       Sarah was different.

       She was a wonder woman of a cunt. At twenty-eight, a whiz kid by my aged standards, she had everything going for her. Beauty, brains, family and family money and background and enough ambition and moxie to equal the needs of a dozen average women. She'd been an equestrian, a tour guide to exotic locations, a sky-diving instructor, a hot-air balloonist and an international model, as in fashion, before she skipped from that after two years.

       She hopped and skipped from one enterprise to another but whatever she did she did naturally well.

       In her latest re-incarnation she was a gallery, crafts-person owner and was challenging the establishment with her unorthodox approaches to marketing and publicity.

       I considered myself somewhat of a maverick, an iconoclast, in some other areas of my non-raping and murdering life and I liked and respected her approach right from the start.

       Here was a woman who would tell the ruling classes and the chattering masses to go fuck themselves and had the credentials to pull it off and that part of her approach really appealed to me.

       I knew right off, when I first saw the local newspaper article and then saw her on the TV, that she was a looker and a possible candidate for my inventory of stand-by potential victims but I didn't approach her that way. Not at all at first.

Page 2.

       As a pastime, as a pursuit, to get away from myself sometimes, even I needed a rest from me occasionally and my pursuit of women victims, I made some fairly credible abstract stained-glass creations. I'd sold a few but never pursued any organized marketing of them.

       Her craft gallery, filled with many of her similar creations, seemed like a good place to display and market some of my stuff. Over the years I'd created one hundred and seventy items and they were starting to take up quite a bit of space. What better place to store them than in a shop where they most likely would be sold.

       I dropped in on her, like on a cold call, with a picture album of my stuff and she could not have been more enthusiastic and full of praise. She was good for my ego. And she was plenty easy on the eyes.

       Immediately, or so it seemed, she wanted to have my creations as part of her inventory. I was tickled and affirmed and quite taken with her varied knowledge and stories of some of the exploits she enthusiastically recounted to me. I wasn't too impressed about the succession of boyfriends she appeared to have had, as even she said, she went through them like a chain saw. My mind flashed to the thought that she probably saw herself as cutting their dicks off with one before she sent them packing. She was a ball-buster in her own mind but, surprisingly, it was a small matter to me and otherwise we got along famously.

       So what happened?

       So everything was set and we worked out the details and at the very last she revealed she expected sixty percent of the proceeds of any sale generated by my work. After all, she had the overhead and upkeep and had the fortitude to set the whole thing up in the first place.

       That was her talking, not me.

       So I don't know about your reaction, but to me it was exorbitant, much more than I was willing to give up. Like pretty well twice as much as I could live with. Twenty-five percent, maybe even thirty, but not twice that. Not in a pig's eye and even though she seemed greedy she was no hog or she was a prime slab of bacon, whichever way you wanted to view it.

Page 3.

       I told her I was a bit surprised, and immediately I could see a marginal change in her demeanor. Someone was daring to challenge her concept, her precepts, and she was not one to be challenged. She'd been a spoiled little rich girl all her life, daddy's favorite girl, who could do no wrong and she didn't take kindly to being crossed, as she saw it.

       She was raised a princess and had the complex.

       The thing was I didn't know I was crossing her since it was only business to me and hadn't become personal.

       I left it that I'd consider it and get back to her in a day or two. I was fairly conflicted. On one hand she wanted too much and on the other hand my stuff was just piling up, not even being seen, so I went back to her by email with my final offer of the other way around. I got sixty percent and she got the forty.

       Well you'd have thought I was wanting to rob her. That I'd shit in the face of the queen or more like crapped in her mouth.

       She fucking told me off, all by email, and that was it for me as far as she was concerned. I didn't like being told I was an ungrateful loser, lacking vision.

       But still, OK.  It was her place so I thought I took it well.

       It was what it was and as short lived as it had lasted, what wasn't meant to be got canned.

       She'd had the unreasonable expectations and I'd have to live with them.

       But over the ensuing weeks and months, anytime I thought about it, it grabbed a raw nerve in my psyche and slowly my thoughts turned to getting revenge on her. But the thing was I'd had the prior, identifiable contact with her and that was my absolute cardinal rule.

       No leads. No links. No clues whatsoever.

       A lead leads somewhere and usually to the person who left it.

       I analyzed the likelihoods and what I came up with was that all our traceable correspondence had been at her store front or to her business computer. If I grabbed her laptop, she didn't use a desktop monitor, I figured I had a better than fifty percent chance that I'd become untraceable too. It was a long way from my hundred percent rule but she had it coming. The more I focused on how badly she'd treated me, the more I knew I'd deliver what she had coming to her on my terms and conditions. One hundred percent me. Zero percent her, see how she liked that split.

       I waited well over a year.

       My continued freedom was worth the patience and besides I did three more victims in the interval and one lasted fifteen weeks.

       So it wasn't like I didn't have other ones to do or that I was bored and out of practice by the time I got around to her.

Page 4.

       I'd chosen my time.

       It was winter and the days were short. Darkness came while her shop was still open and I'd picked a stormy evening with plenty of road condition alerts. I'd waited a final week for just such a night. I wasn't even sure she'd be open because of the conditions and the forecasts for them worsening but I phoned from a phone booth (and try to find one of those in these days of ubiquitous cell phones) and she answered right off. I hung up right off too and was five minutes away on my way to kidnapping her in my specialized transporting van.

       Her shop had an isolated back door off a rear lane-way which nobody used except other small business owners. They all had closed early.

       I pulled in slowly and managed to get my van, back door to her access door and nobody in their right mind was around, only me in my racing,

wrong-headed mind.

       I bundled a hoody over my head and face and, of course, took my rape kit, my kidnapping kit, along with me.

       I sucked in a deep breath of excitement and to steady myself as I paused outside her front entrance. Fuck was her life ever about to change. And mine too, for the way better. Her entrance was on a side street that never saw much walk-by traffic and again there wasn't a soul in sight.

       I thanked my god for the perfection of the conditions.

       I turned the handle and entered her world after a fourteen month absence.

       She was in the back behind a curtain and getting ready to close up early too. She hadn't had a customer in two hours and just one hang-up, nuisance  phone call a few minutes before.

       She called out.

       'Be with you in a minute. I'm just closing up, it's such a horrible night out there but look around for a bit it you'd like.'

       I liked.

       Not much had changed.

Page 5.

       I'd already selected my little twenty-two hand gun out of my briefcase kit and tucked it into my jacket pocket. I was used to confronting women with it and wasn't nervous at all, the way I'd been the first few times I'd kidnapped a female. I'd learned to control, to sublimate my sexual excitement, the thoughts of all the sweet and nasty and vicious things I'd be doing to her so as not to cloud my judgement nor impair my observations nor reaction times.

       True, her cunt was on the other side of the curtain in her panties and my dick on the other side of it to her.

       And there were a pair of nipples waiting on me too.

       I wanted to imagine how they'd pierce and puncture.

       I gave my head a shake.

       I gave myself a shake.

       She came bouncing out all animated and effervescent, full of life and energy, which was exactly how I'd remembered her.

       I almost gulped at how gorgeous she had herself done up as. She had a tight fitting, blue, pull-on, V neck, stretchy sweater and ass-hugging, beige, linen slacks on. She never wore much jewelry, just a pair of dangly yellow earrings, like miniature roses. Her hair was long but up in a French roll.

       Fuck did she still look like a princess, always the queen bee.

       It took her a moment to recognize it was me and she seemed to forget how we'd parted, how she'd slighted me and she started in all friendly and inviting.

       'Well hello there. How have you been? Are you still doing the stained glass? You know, we should talk about that again.'

       'Yes I am in fact but I need a present. I need something special for a special lady so I thought of your shop.'

       'How kind of you' And then she joked, 'That's all I have here is something special.'

       She had something special between her legs, it flashed in my mind. She had something sweet everywhere she went.

       'It looks nice. It certainly is full. How many other artisans' works do you have now?'

       'A dozen. An even dozen plus mine so I guess that makes it a baker's dozen.' Again she thought it was funny. I'd give her the baker's dozen of my big finishing nails in her cunt. See how she laughed then.

Page 6.

       We both laughed, like I said, even though it wasn't the least bit funny. It wasn't even witty.

       I didn't want to waste a lot of time getting to snatching her. I was at the greatest risk to be discovered while on her premises so had to keep my exposure there to the minimum possible. Of course, it had happened to me before that such good intentions got side tracked.

       I remembered that she had a washroom with a toilet at the very back of the store behind the curtain and near next to the rear exit.

       'Excuse me. Could I use your bathroom for a moment? It took a long time to get here with the road conditions and all.'

       'Oh sure. OK, you'll have to forgive the mess though. I've got stuff piled everywhere.'

       And so she did. Boxes and bags and even some of her clothes I'd want to take along with me.

       I took my briefcase with me and she flashed me an odd look like her intuition was questioning why I'd take a case to go have a crap or a piss or whatever I had to eliminate. She almost commented on it but I was past her and into the junk, slash, storage room, slash, bathroom.

       I opened the case and set it on the toilet. I had cuffs and nylon cord and my switch-blade and a gag and tape and a few other niceties I didn't expect to be using. I always carried them just in case, like my nipple nails and clamps, another scalpel like knife, some matches and my trusty bottle of smelling salts and two black, wool ski-masks, one over the other for a double thickness.

       But this was one instance where I absolutely had to keep to the script. Confront her, secure her, bundle her up into the van and be off with her. And I had to scoop her files that might contain about our previous meetings and her laptop and be sure about any security surveillance. The latter, there was none. Hers was not a particularly valuable commodity, like a thousand dollars tops, and as for her personal safety, she'd never felt it compromised. She'd been a martial arts instructor also, and at six foot one and a hundred and forty-five pounds she felt she could go one-on-one with any man and come out

the victor-ess.

       For whatever reason she'd never banked on a little, insignificant twenty-two handgun nor the asshole who'd be pointing it at her.

Page 7.

       I called out to her, 'Sarah, it is Sarah, isn't it? It's a bit embarrassing but there doesn't seem to be any toilet paper.'

       'Oh there should be. Right there.'

       'Where?'

       'Right there, to the left.'

       There was lots, like three extra rolls, plus the one hanging, enough for the biggest of shits.

       'I still don't see it.'

       'Hold on a sec. I could have sworn. I'll get one.'

       I could hear her rustling through some stuff and she came to outside the door.

       'Is the door locked?'

       'No.' I said.

       'Fine. Here, I'll toss it in to you.'

       'Sorry to be such a bother.'

       'Oh, it's no bother, but I could have sworn..'

       As she opened the door and reached her arm in, toilet roll in hand, I gripped her wrist and yanked her in and threw her hard to the opposite wall. She was totally surprised, the element was all mine. It wasn't far to the wall and she scrambled to right herself to twist around to see what the hell I was doing.

       Fuck did she look angry and pissed.

       'For Christ's sake? What the fuck? What the hell? What do you think...?'

       I had the gun pointed clean at her skull when she first saw it.

       'Down on your knees and stay the fuck down.'

       'Go to hell.' And she started to rush me like she was fearless. Like I didn't even have the weapon. It was the very first time ever I'd had to fire in a take down, a take over situation like that. I didn't fire to hit her so I missed like I wanted to even though she was scrambling and fired-up and the sound, the report of the gun in the confined space worked.

       'OK. OK, don't shoot. Don't shoot anymore. Don't shoot me. What do you want?'

       'I want you to kneel down like I said. I don't want to shoot you but the next one I will.'

       'OK. OK, just calm down. We can work this out. I'm kneeling down. See? You can see I am.'

Page 8.

       She had no idea what she was giving up, what she was handing over.

       Her life, her fucking life, that was all and, of course, everything between her legs and on her chest.

       Still she was like a coiled spring, like a bear trap waiting to snap and when she saw the cuffs she freaked and got belligerent.

       'What the fuck? If you think you're putting those on me, if you think I'm going to let you put those on me, you're one fucking sick deranged puppy.'

       'And if you think I won't shoot you in the skull, put one right into your brain, if you don't get it, then you're even more mistaken than you think I am.'

       The pivotal moment hung in the balance.

       I could see her calculating.

       Should she or shouldn't she?

       I was too many steps away for her to rush me before I might shoot her and if I did would it hit her and then might it not kill her. It was only a little baby, ladies' purse gun and she knew lots about firearms. She'd been an Olympic hopeful for the woman's Biathlon (cross country skiing and rifle shooting) but quit in a pique when she couldn't get her way about some insignificant matter. So it often went for spoiled little rich girls and their delusional senses of entitlement.

       We stood off from each other for a minute and she finally exclaimed in exasperation.

       'OK. Very well. OK. But you better be careful.'

       I thought she meant I better be careful, she'd spring on me and beat the crap out of me if I gave her the chance but she meant you better be careful not to hurt me, as if then she would become an even greater threat and she would be in her right to nail my dick to the floor and use my balls for earrings. I had my fucking nerve to dare point a gun at her let alone fire it near her and in the sanctity and safety of her shop.

       She'd always felt it was a refuge.

       Ever, ever so slowly she sank to the floor, like a elevator on one tenth power. She needed to go down but she sure as hell didn't want to.

       She'd never done anything at gunpoint before.

       I stepped forward and pressed the gun barrel to the back of her head through her hair so there was no doubt in her mind about me missing.        

Page 9.

       'Careful. Really fucking careful.' I warned her. 'You wanna die? This'll be your last moment alive if you try anything. You wanna die?'

       She was much meeker and conciliatory and gave up on her threatening approach, at least for a bit.

       'No. No, please. Of course I don't want to die. What do you want?'

       'I want you to put your hands behind your back. I'm gonna handcuff you and believe me I'll shoot before I'll ask if I think you're trying anything.'

       Every quarter inch of her six foot one, every ounce of her hundred and forty-five pounds screamed out for her not to obey but her brain feared the bullet. The ripping, shredding catastrophe that a bullet could cause to her grey matter and her thinking ability.

       Her arms curled slowly back behind her and I cautiously snapped the first open side of one cuff on to her left wrist and even more carefully, like on super high alert, got her other wrist cuffed.

       I stepped back and heaved a great sigh of satisfaction and relief.

       She was captured.

       Maybe not fully, but enough the odds of escape were way removed from her favor.

       She wanted to shuffle on her knees around to face me and I didn't mind. I wanted to see her beautiful body better anyway.

       'Look. Look, please. Please. I don't know why you're doing this. I know you. I know who you are so why are you doing it if you can't get away with it?'

       'Shut up.' I needed to divert her.

       If she put together that it didn't matter that she knew who I was since she wouldn't live to get to tell, she could become a raging, determined force to deal with.

       'Where's your money?'

       'What?'

       'The money, where is it?'

Page 10.

       'If that's what this is about I can assure you you've come to the wrong store. You're barking up the wrong oak. I didn't have one sale to-day, what with the weather only two people came in.'

       'So what did you do all day?'

       'I updated my computer files and did some EBay. And you know, I deleted a bunch of old stuff and re-arranged what matters. You know how long that can take.'

       'Am I still in there?'

       She didn't think before she spoke and when she realized it, it was too late.

       'Oh no, are you kidding. That stuff was purged months ago.'

       At that moment she realized the only person other than me who knew about us was her and there was no traceable record.

       She stumbled and stammered a bit.

       'I.. No.. I'm, but I do have it on a back up hard drive. I always do that sort of thing.'

       It sounded hollow and an after-thought and very much the lie it was, even to her.

       'Lay flat to the floor. Lie down flat.'

       'No. No. No. What for? No.'

       'Fucking do what you're told.'

       Her legs were long and strong, an athlete's legs as I'd mentioned and she could kick the shit out of me if she got them going. But she had to get the chance.

       I put my foot to her shoulder and shoved and she lurched forward almost smacking her forehead against the toilet seat. As she twisted to avoid it, I swooped down and looped a pre-cut length of nylon cord around her ankles and tied it off tight and fast. I'd dropped the gun off to the side. She started to kick and buck like she was doing the butterfly stroke in a swimming pool, only out of water, but she couldn't break free.

       Fuck I wanted to ass beat her as she arched and folded inwards only to arch out again, but I held off.

       She wanted to scream but I had the gun back and pointed right at her mouth so she yelled instead.

Page 11.

       'What the hell do you think you're doing? What gives you the right? I demand that you untie me. That you un-cuff me and let me go. I bloody well demand it. You hear?'

       I stood up and stepped back really satisfied then. The capture was complete.

       I wanted to observe and appraise my outraged prey.

       She did not like me looking down on her, looking at her. I didn't think it was 'that way' that I looked but something between her legs must have told her so, that that was the matter. It was about sex.

       There was no question I could have raped her right there, we both knew it. It wouldn't have been convenient nor terribly safe but it would have been a passel of fun and I could have beat up on her good too.

       God I wanted to punch her tits already.

       'You bastard. You stinking bastard. If you think you're gonna have sex with me you're fucking out of your tree. You never will. I'll never let you. Go fucking right off to hell.'

       I could smirk and gloat because I knew how wrong she was.

       I could feel my blood pressure rising, but it wasn't like my blood boiling in my veins, it was the cum collecting in my crotch pouch.

       She could rail all she wanted but her ass was to me and it was hard and tight and I could make out the outline of her panties underneath her slacks. She was not a stupid woman but she was behaving in an irresponsible manner inciting and exciting me. She must have felt my eyes in her bum crack because she wriggled to turn onto her side to look up at me for confrontation or to appease, whichever she figured might work.

       'OK. You've got me tied up. OK, I must admit, I don't like it. In fact I hate it but I can get you some money. I have ATM cards and some credit cards I can get cash advances on so if you'll settle for that and let me go, I won't say anything to anyone. I promise. You haven't hurt me. You've scared me a bit but you haven't hurt me so I don't have to go to the cops.'

       I pretended interest.

       I didn't need her money. I had more of my own than I could spend since so much of my life didn't require expenditures. Capture them, hold them, and torture then to death, and what did it cost? Other than feeding them, the highest possible form of sexual entertainment was also one of the cheapest. What a fucking sweet dichotomy life could prove to be sometimes. The best cost the least.

Page 12.

       'Where are the cards? What are the pins?'

       'In my purse. In my wallet behind the counter out front. The pins are in my notebook.'

       It all was working out more than perfectly.

       I figured once I told her I was taking her out of there, that I was kidnapping and transporting her, she could freak and try to become unmanageable, but if she had to come with me to be sure I could get the cash she said I could, that could allay any fears and suspicions she might have about ulterior motives, about the sex stuff.

       It was better than perfect so the god of kidnappers must have been in my corner. He must have been looking in on me saying,

       'You go man, go.' -

       'You go get her.' -

       'Kill the cunt.' -

       'Rape the bitch.' -

       'Do it better than most.'

       'Be back in a minute. Don't go anywhere.' I said.

       It was another of my infamous lame attempts at being witty.

       I retrieved her purse and as I returned back with it,  her cell phone played its stupid tune.

       It startled me, but for a moment it gave her hope. I fished it out to see if the display showed a name.

       'Johnny boy. Who's Johnny boy?'

       She thought fast and then too fast.

       'He's coming to pick me up. He's my boyfriend.'

       'He is? Why? You car's out back.'

       She seemed surprised I knew but still she was fast on her toes.

       'He knows I don't like driving in this kind of weather so he must be close by.'

       And then she just has to go for the full great lie.

       'And he's a cop.'

       I gave her a suspicious look, almost a smirky grin and advised her.

       'A cop. A cop? Then we better get a move on.'

       'What? No. A move on? I'm not going anywhere with you. And you can't make me. That's kidnapping. That's a federal offence. You're not going to kidnap me.'

       'No. No, you're just coming along for the ride. Forget the kidnapping.'

       'No I'm not. But it is kidnapping.'

       'But how will I know the cash is there, that you're telling me the truth?' Unless you're with me?'

Page 13.

       'But I am. I swear I am.'

       'But how will I know? Maybe the first one'll work but then the next ones won't.'

       As much as she hated to admit it, my logic made sense and she was angry with herself for setting up a scenario where I could logically have to transport her. She knew that once she was removed from there, nobody else would know where she was. And that was how women disappeared and were never heard from again.

       God, why had she been so stupid trying to outsmart me? She thought.

       I continued with the ruse.

       'Like, what's your limit? Five hundred dollars a day?'

       She nodded.

       'So from what I see here, I can get three thousand dollars, but only if you're with me so I know all the cards work. So that's not such a great price to pay for your freedom? Is it? Three grand?'

       Freedom was the only word she heard of what I'd just said.

       I was out-witting her, out reasoning her at every turn and it pissed her off further. She'd never let a man get the better of her and here I already had her tied, immobilized and somewhat at my mercy. (Or so she thought, as in not completely at my mercy) and then she had to be driven around town, on a stormy night, while I looted her bank accounts and available credit for cash withdrawals from her credit cards.

       She did not like my smarts.

       She trusted them even less.

       She smelled experience, my history, but didn't know it was that.

       She felt a cunning and a connivance.

       She pondered it for a bit and came out with, 'OK. OK, but not in the trunk. Not in the trunk of my car.'

       So wasn't that sweet? She never thought I had my own specialized transport van, with the windowless rear, secure compartment. She thought she'd get to sit in the front seat of her own car and see the sights as we drove around.

       Fuck and shit did that bitch have no idea about serial, sexual kidnappers.

       'OK. Fair enough, not in the trunk then. OK, fine. But I do have to blindfold you. I have to put a hood over your head.'

       'No. No, you don't. What? Why? No.'

Page 14.

       'It's that or the trunk.'

       God I loved toying with her using a pack of lies.

       'OK. OK. OK, do whatever you have to do.'

       I gave her a smile but it was all with my teeth, not from my eyes, but from my crotch.

       I pulled the doubled-up ski mask out of my case and approached her head. I loved her with her hair up. It made her look sophisticated and elegant, not the kind of woman to be hooded.

       She looked up at me and for a moment I could have sworn I saw fear and the makings of a tear. I'm sure I saw a hint of pleading and it gave my cock a kick. God knows she hadn't shown any weakness up until then. All self-assured and powerful, that's still who she was even though she'd given over control which was what she hated more than anything. Almost more than me.

       She despised my command, my control over unfolding events.

       So I was getting to her and she had no idea how much of her I wanted to get to, how deep and private and tender with millions of vulnerable nerve endings.

       My cock was leading my brain astray.

       I slid the masks over her head, holes to the back, and I knew she couldn't see a thing because I'd tested it.

       I could truly and for real relax.

       Everything about her was under my control so I could have a breather. At least I could have had if the bitch hadn't twisted onto her back and thrust her god dammed (god blessed) chest forward and up. Her sweater was pulled to the side, stretched open, and half of one of her bra cups was out.

       It was a beige satin silk, sheer and her nipple was poking through the fabric.

       Shit and fuck and holly molly.

       I shook my head.

       I shook my hips.

       I grabbed my package.

       And it grabbed back at my mind.

       I swallowed real hard like I was swallowing all my good intentions and my margin of safety.

       I was really charged.

       Her nipple screamed at me.

       It screamed out calling to me.

       I could barely breath.

       I was torn and struggling.

       I was almost a rubbery mess of indecision and contradictions.

       Contra-dick-tions.

       I tossed of my coat and pulled up my sweater.

Page 15.

       I had in my rape kit some really powerful clamps, the kind like clothes pegs but metal and way much stronger. Some could actually crush a nipple and leave lasting, underlying damage to the erectile muscles that were giving her a nipple hard-on because she was getting so scared. She hadn't shown it and was determined not to, but her breast was betraying her.

       All I had to do was press on the two handles and open the jaws and clamp closed on her bud, then she'd know. Then she'd know for sure what a horrendous mistake she'd made. What a miscalculation she'd come up with offering me her money and most important of all, that I was prepared to hurt, hurt, hurt her nipple, to inflict on her sexuality.

       I reasoned it out fast.

       I figured she had it coming.

       Why shouldn't she know, for the four hour drive to where we were headed, that her sex was part of the equation, the aim of my target and that I'd hurt it. Let her stew and fret and be extra long terrified.

       Why fucking not?

       It seemed just to me.

       I picked out a black spring clamp, actually two the same, that were two inches wide, like to hold a thick sheaf of paper sheets. They weren't the most powerful but not the weakest either. I'd used one on myself, on my own nipples to heighten my jerking off and the longest I could stand was ten to twelve seconds. I'd never gone longer than the twelve mark as my brain pain center lit up on fire.

       The cunt would wear it for four hours. Oh, how fucking delicious that appealed to me.

       She could sense that her sweater was pulled askew and didn't know how much of her bra might be out. She didn't want it showing at all, not with me having her like that. She knew it was one of her favorite, sheer ones and it made her feel sexy and sexually powerful and she suspected her nipple and areola could be revealed so she was wriggling trying to get her sweater back to its proper location.

       I pretended to care about her modesty.

Page 16.

       'Here, let me help you. Your clothes are all twisted aside. Let me put your sweater back so it's straightened.'

       She seemed appreciative if distrustful.

       'Thanks. It's embarrassing. Thanks for being considerate and being a gentleman.'

       'No problem. No problem at all. No fucking problem.'

       She didn't like the joy in my voice, the tone of excitement. It was far removed from sincere concern and helpfulness.

       She was about to experience the greatest sexual problem she'd ever encountered to date on any date.

       I pinched a clamp open wide, lined it up with the nipple sticking out raising the sheer fabric and pressed it just enough to her to get half the length of her bud.

       And I snapped it shut.

       Well holy fuck and shit and holy mother of screaming bitches, you'd've thought I'd cut it off or done it full flat squished with the vice grip pliers.

       'Ow. Ow. Ow. God. Get it off. Take it off. What the hell? Get it off. Get it of me, me, me. Get if off.'

       It was getting me off, she was so sincere.

       She was getting me off.

       I stood back to watch her flop and arc and I knew her nipple really hurt because of the tone of her squealing and because I'd put the other clamp on my own nipple. My cock hardened like a pole vault and even in the heat and passion of her screams and my overwhelming sexual excitement, I had to remove mine after twenty seconds. It just hurt too fucking much to stand it any more. Still and all, it was almost twice as long as my previous record so I was proud of myself and even prouder about what I was making her go through. She wouldn't be so proud of her nipples after awhile and would come to wish she'd been born without them.

       While she mainly screamed, all of a sudden she started to cry. It's not that she cried for sympathy or even to beg, some pain is just so severe that it eventually forces the brain to initiate crying, like a self-preservation reaction. I had the clamp I'd just removed from myself in my hand. It didn't belong in my hand. It belonged on a nipple.

       What the fuck.

       Double the trouble, double the fun, like the Wrigley Spearmint Gum add.

Page 17.

       I rolled her onto her backside further with relative ease. I loved putting my hands on her, on her hips and her shoulder so close to her tits. She didn't want my paws on her and I mused about how she'd feel about them in her. I aimed the clamp for her other nipple. Smoothly I pulled her bra cup up to bare the target and snapped it on. She shrieked like her nipple was being pierced by a big, rough construction nail (a sound I knew well) and she thrashed forward and passed out.

       What could have been better?

       What could have been more co-operative on her part?

       I fucking had to go for it. She wasn't awake to know.

       I reached my hand down into the front of her slacks and squeezed her vagina though the silk panties. I did not dare have a look see or I'd go the whole hog and become foolishly, carelessly showing a wanton disregard for the safety of my situation, for the possible consequences of my actions. In other words, I'd be stretching my luck beyond reasonable boundaries, all instead of stretching her cunt , and I'd just be asking to be caught.

       I rolled her labia a few good pinches, poked into her crease and pulled my hand out to sniff my fingers. I swear I could smell her sex juice on them already.

       The rest was pretty routine.

       I bundled her up and into the back door of my waiting ride. I collected her purse and laptop and the clothes of hers that I wanted and did a quick search. Be dammed if I didn't find two detachable hard drives, like for back up, so she might have been telling the truth.

       And then I remembered, the bullet, the shot.

       It had lodged in a magazine that was on top of a stack so I took the magazine too.

       I shut off the lights and locked her front door and the rear door behind me.

       There was no sign, at all, of a struggle, nor a nipple assault. Nothing to indicate she'd been napped and the special thing was everyone knew she hated winter driving so a friend probably picked her up. But the thing was for the cops, eventually it would be, which friend? The fucker who'd called, Johnny boy, he might be a good place for them to start.

Page 18.

       I settled into my seat and carefully pulled away, with my lights off, from her lane way. Not a car nor a person were around and the snow was almost blinding it was so driven by the howling wind. What a perfect cover for crimes mother nature could provide sometimes.

       I knew I had a long, pleasant drive ahead but I'd have to be careful. I didn't want to skid off into a ditch and get stuck. Sort of hard to explain the cargo in the back should I have to.

       I sang and hummed to myself after we'd cleared ten miles. I never had the radio on. Ten miles might as well have been the two hundred miles we had to go since if there weren't any cops by then there almost, one hundred percent wouldn't be any at all.

       I never said anything for certain. The moment you figure you've got life figured out, you haven't. The moment you tell life what will happen, she has a way of proving you wrong, of surprising you on her own terms. I knew not to spit in the wide eye of fate.

       I wondered if Sarah thought that way. I wondered if she would when she came too. She was so used to telling life how it was going to be and it pretty much always had gone her way. But look at her then. She'd assumed it could never, ever happen to her. She was too smart and savvy and capable and in tune with her surroundings. Always alert and aware and yet again, look at her there in the back of my van being carried off to god knows where.

       She didn't come to for twenty minutes but when she did, she surely interrupted my thoughts and my happy humming. Man did I know she was awake.

       She shrieked ungodly at the double dose of pain emanating from her nipples. She couldn't even tell which one hurt worse. She could not believe it was actually happening to her breasts, her nipples.

       Invincible Sarah's beautiful breasts, and she knew right off

she wasn't in her own car.

       And that was horrid.

       That was impossible.

       It was impossibly horrid and relevant.

       She wasn't even in the trunk and that near crushed her spirit.

       I had come prepared to take her.

       I'd succeeded in taking her.

       But to take her where and to what?

       There was nothing remotely reassuring about being in the hands of a twisted and capable strategist given to violent outbursts.

       What a fool, she thought they were only outbursts.

       And she knew beyond certain I was up for nipple torture.

Page 19.

       She'd had some kinky friends who played some S and M fetish stuff but it never was her bag and how ironic that she had my bag over her head. She liked to dominate a man as he fucked her so it was more like she was fucking the man's shaft.

       She was shafting him.

       She was a sexual aggressor, a cougar, which wasn't surprising and always had the upper hand. She always had been, like in so much of all the other things she approached, but this, she could not abide by this.

       But to her relief she had no sense that her vagina had been compromised, that she'd been touched inappropriately between her legs and she was thankful for that but that wasn't to be for long as it turned out, less than the time needed for the drive there.

       She really, really screamed out at me about her nipple pain.

       'For God's sake. For God dammed God's sake, you stupid, stinking pervert, get these off me. Get them fucking off my nipples.'

       I loved hearing her say the word nipples about her own knowing how much they hurt her.

       I'd had the sliding door, which was lockable, open to the back compartment. I had had for all of the drive waiting for her to come to, waiting for her screams and outrage.

       I called back to her.

       'Stupid. Stupid? How do you figure I'm stupid? You're the one tied up and begging, not me.'

       'I'm not begging. I'm demanding. I demand that you take these off or.. or..'

       'Or what? Or what the fuck what?' You tell me what, cunt? What are you going to do?'

       'God dammed it, just take them off. Please take them off. If you want to have sex with me, you don't want my nipples damaged, do you? Men like my nipples. I like my nipples. Men like mine and to suck on them to make them hard. You'd like that too, wouldn't you? If you damage them they won't get hard.'

       Fuck, she was giving me a boner and debating quite effectively.

       'Geeze, looking at it that way, you may have a point, two points, ha ha.'

Page 20.

       'Stop being crude and infantile. Just take these off me please.'

       The prospect excited me beyond reasonably.

       'I'll see what I can do. It's snowing pretty hard but I'll see if I can find a safe place to pull off, to pull them off.'

       It was another twenty minutes before I saw a motel with a for sale sign out front. It was dark and deserted and not a light was illuminating anywhere. It had been out of business for three years. The driveway went across the front units and around back to the rear units.

       I pulled around back and was completely out of view from the road, where there was barely any traffic anyhow. The snow was only six inches deep so there was no chance of getting stuck, besides the van was four wheel drive, all wheel drive, they called it and I had snow tires all around.

       That was the thing about anticipation and detail. That was what had kept me undetected and hugely successful. Think of every possible contingency, except the unexpected, assume it was going to happen and take the preemptive steps to counteract it. Like I always carried ten gallons of spare gas in case the stations weren't open or the like and I always filled the van to the very top, for cash, before I started out. Wouldn't that be the dumbest thing? To get nabbed because I ran out of gas.

       Little things like that were big details which could lead to huge consequences if not attended to.

       The tires crunched to a stop and I sucked in a deep, expansive breath.

       My meat was in the back waiting for me.

       Her meat was back in there too.

       And her nipples were driving her crazy.

       I climbed into the contained compartment, I'd specially fabricated just to accommodate kidnapping women. It was sound proofed and propane heated and super secure and, of course, windowless.

       I slid closed the sliding door.

       We were alone in the dark and she was breathing almost as heavily as I was. Her ears were perked alert as she waited for any sound I might make. I couldn't see her but I knew her cunt was there, just awaiting and the clamps on her nipples. I gave a fast thought to her ass hole too. I'd done nothing to invade it, which seemed an oversight.

Page 21.

       As her ears strained for any sound, I decided to fuck with her, to simply toy with her destiny.

       I ran the zipper to my trousers up and down a few quick times. Every woman in her right sexual mind knew that sound.

       'What? What are you doing?'

       'You'll see.'

       I had a hidden light switch to the ceiling in the back and threw it on.

       It was like mid-day in there, like at high noon sun and none of the light escaped outside.

       The nipple clamps caught my eye right off and I took hold of one and instead of releasing it, I pinched on its jaws tighter.

       So holy shit was she mad and did she explode.

       'You bastard. What in hell. What do you think you're doing to me?'

       I had to see her face.

       I'd bet it would be really expressive.

       I had to experience her anger and outrage by seeing into her eyes and twisting wide-open mouth.

       I pulled the doubled up ski masks from her head and her mussed, disheveled hair looked spectacular. It was no longer in a French role, more like a Harlem role, like the slums part and it was long and naturally curly.

       She no sooner turned to look at me as I crouched down over her than she spat in my face and partly in my eye.

       What a shot.

       My vision on one side was blurred.

       I nursed her goober out of my eye ball and soon could see clear as ever. I moved around to be at the side of her head and placed my hand firmly and intentionally to her throat.

       She knew I could choke her, even strangle her if I wanted to but I only did it for pretend. I could hang her high later if I chose. I loved feeling her neck muscles contracting and twisting trying to permit air to enter to her lungs.

       I let go.

       I slapped her face gently when I could have knocked her perfect white teeth out. She'd spent fifteen thousand having them capped because while her natural teeth were above average, they weren't perfect. Rich. Everything she did was rich bitch.

Page 23.

       'So Sarah, Sarah baby, (She hated being called baby. She was nobody's baby.) that wasn't nice spitting in my eye. You always so rude and uncouth? So inconsiderate of your fellow man?'

       'Go to hell. You're not a man so you can't be anybody's fellow and you're certainly not mine so go to fucking hell. And I told you to get those evil clamps off my nipples.'

       'You did. Yes you have and did do that, and I'll tell you what, I'll make you a deal.'

       'No. No, no more of your deals. They're never fair.'

       'Sure they are. They are to me. See this? I've got this.'

       'What? What is it?'

       I held it up for her to recognize.

       'It's a three inch, spiral, galvanized, finishing nail, the kind they use in house construction.

       (And that was another thing she'd done. She'd been a carpenter in her father's custom home building business and even as incongruous as that seemed she'd been dammed good at wielding a hammer. She was really good at everything she did. I wondered if she'd torture good too?)

       'So what? So what? So what?' She was repetitive.

       'So, so baby sweets, Sarah cunt bitch. SCB, how you like those for initials? Sarah Cunt Bitch, so let me shove it down the center of one of your nipples and I'll take the two clamps off, sort of like one for two, a two for one special.'

       'You're crazy. You're insane.You're god dammed stupid. I'd never. I'll never. I'll fucking never.'

       It was time to seriously distress her to see what she was truly made of.

       'Very well then, they stay on, they can stay on and I can use it down there instead.'

       I hand brushed her pussy through her slacks.

       She went  into a frenzy of convulsions and twists. I pulled at her slacks to get them down. She thrashed like a corral full of unbroken bucking broncos and I needed to temper her.

Page 23.

       She'd never been hit in violence in her life. She'd done the martial arts stuff but she'd always been in control.

       I had to decide where to slug her.

       So many choices and only two fists.

       The head: I might hurt my hand.

       The spine: I didn't want to paralyze her that soon.

       The pussy: The fucking pussy. Fuck the fuck, why not the pussy for her very first punch like the worst for first?

       I was almost decided, that should be it, when she arched extra far, way back and her breast was completely exposed and stretched. Like a frog's tongue to a bug, like a snap reflex reaction, I hammered my fist into the side of her tit. I know I split plenty of fatty tissue as I felt her ribs underneath bend and crack.

       At the same time, for the next instant, I latched onto the clamp, same tit, and twisted it off the nipple.

       She went from shrieking to low, guttural, almost inhuman moans and let up on the hysterical thrashing about. She was more rocking herself and trying to find a position where her tit didn't hurt. There was no such place to be had.

       I worked at getting her slacks down and couldn't think of a more rewarding task. She protested meekly as they cleared her hips and her panties came into view, just the waistband but it was enough for us both to know she was getting the cock in the back of my van. That's where she'd be raped for the first time, which is a momentous occasion in any beautiful woman's life. When she became an official rape victim. What she didn't know was first the cock and then the nail. I'd made up my mind.

       I got her slacks down to her ankles ties.

       There was no way I was undoing her legs.

       She was just too lethal and motivated but the sight of her satin panties near got her killed.

       I gasped at her beauty.

       Hard, contoured hips and way in at the waist and a full crotch, like an ample crotch and two of the most magnificent, defined, parallel labia lips clearly outlined through the fabric. Not only had I struck tit heaven, I'd hit

vagina Nirvana.

Page 24.

       I almost didn't want to pull her panties down, the look of her was so erotic and spectacular. I mean I could only see her vagina for the first time once and then it would be old news.

       I almost, only almost, didn't.

       But first I kissed her on the silk and ran my tongue along her crease. I pressed the nail point to her lip but not to the inside where her real pink was waiting. She flopped away and back.

       'No. No. No. Don't do it. Don't do that, no.'

       'I'm gonna take these off you and you better watch out if I lose control. You better pray that I don't.'

       I took a gentle hold of them at the top of the waistband and began peeling them down.

       I stopped where I figured the top of her bush should begin to show. I kissed her and nuzzled her labia again. She wasn't struggling, she was half frozen and half twitching. I could feel her crotch muscles rebelling but only slightly. She was squeezing everything hard tight shut.

       I moved her panties down further and still no bush. Where her bush should have been, there was no fuzz. She'd shaved her fucking privates bald.        God could God be generous.

       God could she ask for it.

       I shook my head in exhilarated disbelief. How much more perfect could this bitch have been?

       I continued and drew her panties down further until the top of her crease peeked out into view.

       So then my brain was frying.

       My cock was expanding in my pants and I had to get them off.

       That eliminated any doubt or hope in her mind that she might not get raped as I doffed my briefs and my pole stuck out at attention.

       I surely had her attention.

       I suppose every woman who's about to be raped wants to see the size and appearance of the member, of the offending penetrator, that's headed inside of her.

       I got back to her panties.

       I drew them down to the bottom of her crease and could see her whole area. Bald and beautiful as a pre-pubescent girl.

Page 25.

       The woman was a goddess.

       A bold-cunt goddess.

       She was molded and generous and just a hint of clit at the top peeked out. Enough to vice grip and bite into. All her minora were inside and she was barer than bald. Oh yes, I needed to mention that again, it was so special. It was like she'd shaved that morning, like just special for me.

       I drew her panties down to her ankles. I didn't cut them off since I wanted to preserve them as a souvenir. Same for her bra.

       I hoisted her sweater above her cups and undid the front latch. The clamp was still biting into her bare nipple.

       I took hold of the other tit, the one I'd snapped the clamp off after I'd slugged her and pinched down on her nipple.

       Again she exploded in outrage and agony. The clamp had been on her so long and hard it'd crushed some of her erection muscles and me plying and pinching at them set her nerve ends on fire and lit a fuse in her voice box.

       'I hate you. I hate you. I'll kill you. Stop torturing me.'

       And then it dawned on her, I was sexually torturing her.

       Well, her mind went into paroxysms, it was like a bunch of little short circuits hit her cortex and convulsed it and she began to mewl and almost sing song.

       'No. No, not torture. No. No, not torture me, not torture my sex.'

       I slapped her face but only half hard.

       'You got it sweets. You got it Sarah smart ass. Torture and torture and fucking torture you here and here. I squeezed her tit and poked her cunt.

       She went limp and far less confrontational after that.

       She was praying to the spirits she believed in. It wasn't a Christian God so Jesus couldn't save her. It was more like an all encompassing Deity that had room for all religions. She wasn't religious but was spiritual.

       I wondered if her Deity was the same one as mine, so then whose prayers would he answer?

       I pulled on the remaining clamp and it slid off her nipple with a snap. That was a much crueler way of removing it than opening the jaws since it caught the last tiny tip of her nip and that was where the most nerve endings resided. A tiny bubble of blood and milky shit appeared as if by magic. The magic of effective torture as if it was ever in doubt.

Page 26.

       Her nipples were clamp-free but not for long.

       'So Sarah, you remember what I said? I take those off which I've done and this goes in there.'

       I showed her the nail and aimed it at her cunt.

       I never heard so many 'no's' and 'you cant's' in my life. And 'serious'. What's this thing they always think about me not being serious?

       She pleaded and begged and was in disbelief that I'd actually do it. In complete denial, both of self and of me.

       'OK. OK, so cool it. If you're really that scared of the nail, the clamps have to go back on.

       She wanted no part of either.

       'No. No.' (Again a hundred no's.) 'No, you can't. They already hurt too much.'

       'Then it's the nail.'

       'No. No, you can't. That's inhuman. I'll hurt too much.'

       'You just don't get it, do you? Something's going to keep on hurting too much.'

       'You're a monster. Why? Why do you want to hurt me so much? I can't see it. I can't see why? You don't have to, to have sex with me.'

       'Can't see it? Then look, look this is nuts and look at these nuts. (I cupped my package.) One or the other or both. Chose or it's both nipples and, and your cunt. And why? Why? Because I fucking can. So chose.'

       I knew she'd go for the nipple again but she didn't know I intended to put them back on at a right angle to how they'd previously been when the first one went on.

       When the jaws of the first clamp bit into her already crushed erection muscles she shrieked at the top of her range and the ceiling of the van near blew off as she passed out.

       I mean there was only so much pain and grief she could take, or so she thought.

       I took my time studying her predicament, like her pre-dick-ament, before I got the salts. It was the sweetest of hopeless situations for her as I was going to puncture into her labia anyhow no matter how many promises she made.

       She came too squawking and begging as I showed her the other clamp and got set to fixate it.

       'Now you listen and you listen real good and clear. You don't fucking pass out again. This one's going on that nipple and it'll hurt more because that's the tit I punched you in. It'll fucking hurt like fucking bloody hell but you pass out and this goes inside your cunt. I'll fucking puncture your cunt. I may even puncture your clit and twist it and pull on it while it's in there. Maybe even heat it up. Sizzle your clit from the inside out.'

       My words were inhuman and incomprehensible to her.

Page 27.

       I applied the clamp at the same vicious, malicious right angle like I'd just done. It is hard to describe her shrieks. It was like a hundred mice being slowly crushed at the same time, a hundred lobsters all being boiled alive. It was higher than pitched and off the agony scale. The space was so confined she almost penetrated my ear drums which could have made me deaf.

       I didn't want to be deaf.

       I wanted to hear her scream even deeper and indefinitely.

       'Stop. Stop. Stop, for God's sake have mercy, and stop.'

       'Look Sarah, be smart. Why don't you take the nail down the nipple then? I can keep on taking the clamps off and putting them back on in different positions until I crush your nipples off. You want that?'

       'No. Off. No. How would you do that?'

       'I've got pliers too. You think I haven't got pliers?'

       'No, you can't be serious.'

       (There it was again.)

       'You wanna see them?'

       'No. No, for God's sake no more worse.'

       'Fine then. Fine for now. Just decide.'

       I loomed over her hips with the nail in my hand.

       I flicked the tip of her clit with the nail point.

       'No. God no, you wouldn't.'

       'Fucking wrong bitch, I will but I'm going to fuck you first. You good with that?'

       My thumb was already an inch into her pussy.

       'I don't want to be raped and I don't want to be tortured worse. So please, just have sex with me. Have intercourse and you'll see you don't have to hurt me.'

       I pushed the nail into her cunt, but the small, round head first. I let it rest there inside her canal a couple of inches and it wasn't piercing any part of her pink.

       I kissed the nail and kissed her mouth.

       I wanted to tease her.

       'You know, I think you're a pretty smart girl, actually quite a woman. But I mean look at you, you're fucking gorgeous, your face is beautiful, if not a little arrogant, but I like that too, you've got fight and you've got spirit but you're missing the whole point of why I have you. Of why I chose you.'

Page 28.

       'No I'm not. I'm not arrogant. You want to rape me. You're nothing but a common despicable rapist.'

       'Despicable, yes I can assure you but anything but common. As I was saying, your face, but your body. Your fucking body. You don't think it's an invitation to be done? The way you dress? The way you show it off?'

       'You're blaming me? I'm the victim. You're blaming the victim?'

       'God how can you be so dense? There's no blame. There's just you and your exceptional looks and great bod and that's what I want to control and to punish.'

       'No. No, punish for what? What did I do?'

       'You don't even remember, do you? How you acted when I told you sixty percent was too much for selling my glass work in your shop and how you freaked when I said you should get the forty. You don't remember that?'

       'Yes, well sort of. But what has that got to do with this? With the sex and the hurt?'

       'Exactly, it doesn't, but it was the catalyst.'

       'Uh? What? I don't get it. What are you talking about?'

       'You know I believe you truly don't get it. You may be smart but you're also clueless.'

       'No I'm not. I know something about everything.'

       'Really? You that smart?'

       'I am. I know I am and I learn fast. I'm always trying new things and I learn them fast.'

       'So you're a quick study, one might say?'

       She nodded her face.

       'So tell me something. What do you know about Ted Bundy?'

       Her mind searched back and focused on the horrid details of the time when his trial consumed the headlines.

       Horrid details to her. I inhaled every word and image of them. He fucking did twenty fucking women and his last one was twelve years old and I had already surpassed his count.

       'Bundy? Yes, I know. He was the...' She slowed down.

       I gave her a giddy look.

       'Yes. OK. He was what?'

       'He killed a lot of women. They executed him for it, in the gas chamber.'

       'Well you almost got it right, they electrocuted him. Fried his balls. That must have hurt.'

       Visit:       http://who2.com/tedbundy.html

Page 29.

       'So no. No. What? Why? Why are you bringing him up?'

       She was getting very uncomfortable inside her skin in the back of my van.

       'So what else. What else did he do besides dispatching them?'

       Her face screwed up and her lower lip and chin quivered.

       I stroked her cheek.

       'Come on. You can tell me. I know you know. All beautiful women know what he did.'

       'Yes OK. So he raped them too. That's what you want me to say. So what? So he raped them.'

       'Did you know the last one was twelve years old? Kimberly Leach. Isn't that something? He leached the cunt right out of her before he did the same to her life.'

       'You're horrid.You talk like you idolize him. He got what he deserved. He deserved to die.'

       'No, she deserved to die and so did all the others. Don't you get it. That's how I see women too.'

       'No. No. No. You're not going to kill me. No, you can't be.. No I won't let you.'

       'You won't have to let me. I'll just do it if I want so that's the thing, you have to make it that I don't want to and right now you're failing miserably so I'm going to ask you again, the nail, the nail resting in your cunt, do I stick in there or down one of your nipples? And I want an answer. No more jerking me around. You can jerk me off, if you want, but no more shuckin' and jivin', no more tap dancing, get the dogs and the ponies out of here, which'll it be?'

       She seemed to be settling into giving me an answer as I let my hand drift onto one of the clamps crushing her nipple and I snapped it off again, by just pulling out on it.

       Her face shot up and she near knocked me out with an unintentional head butt. She clunked my skull with hers by accident. But she was fast to perceive an opportunity.

Page 30.

       I shook my head slightly since it hurt some and she took a full bore crash for my forehead. She connected and knocked me back reeling. She gave me an instant headache. She started to kick at me ferociously with both of her feet at once, still tied like they were, and she landed a couple of decent thumps. She couldn't crush my balls, however, like she wanted to and was aiming for. I scrambled like a chimp and cleared her range but we were in pretty tight quarters and she shimmied and shook herself to come after me. I side stepped and over her and fought back.

       The best way to subdue her was to pussy get her.

       And it didn't take long.

       I kicked her to the side of the ribs and as she twisted to avoid the next boot, I heeled her right to the labia. I stamped down like a kid trying to kill a bug dead, dead square to the nail hanging an inch out of her. That got her attention and made her pass out.

       I was pumped.

       I dropped to my knees and jerked the nail out.

       I squeezed her areola up hard and forced the tip of the nail an inch into her bud.

       I scrambled out of the back, into the front, to open my rape kit and grabbed a bunch more nails and was back looming over her. I picked a spot to the side of her punctured nipple and drove another nail into its base where it became areola.

       I hit her face, hard back hands, side to side, and her cheeks reddened but she didn't come to. I was working up to a frenzy and  had to watch I didn't over do it and kill her too soon.

       I had a bounty of nails.

       I shoved one into the fatty underside of her same breast and another one right beside it to give it a friend. It was becoming a fucking tit pin cushion, a nailed cushion.

       Her skin was breaking out in holes.

       I started to crawl onto her to get my cock aimed for her natural hole.

       I rubbed her vigorously across and along the labia and she soaked herself inside. No self control there.

Page 31.

       Something made another nail find my hand.

       I pressured it to her clit and gave her a slight puncture.

       You'd have thought I'd hit her jugular.

       She spurted blood and it stained my chest and face.

       I forced the nail an inch further into her nub.

       It swelled more and it was time to go for the full penetration.

       I whiffed my smelling salts under her nose and she revived in scream-land. I pumped like crazy and forced the nail further into her nipple as I thrust her. She thrashed and bucked but I'd cum in her before she could even come close to disengaging or distracting me.

       She was a duly raped and punctured woman and I was a fully, temporarily, a satisfied rapist.

       We both lay there panting but she was moaning and crying too. I had nothing to cry about. I praised her out loud.

       'So, Sarah, what you think about that? Wasn't that fucking fantastic? You were fantastic.'

       She tried to turn herself to spit in my face. To twist herself around out of her fetal, reactionary position.

       I clamped my hand over her mouth to thwart her.

       'Uh. Uh. No more spitting in my face. Try spitting on this instead if you like.'

       I hovered my cock right in front of her mouth.

       Like a stupid, demented typical woman, she tried to bite her teeth onto it. Jaws wide open, clapping and snapping.

       I threw her head back and elbowed her throat. She gurgled and choked and stopped trying to spit.

       I climbed onto her chest and held my sloppy knob to her mouth.

       'You want to bite it off, don't you? Right? Really get back at me. But you know what, you're going to suck it instead. Clean all the squirt off my knob head.'

       She pinched her face shut and shook her head.

       'Never. Fuck you never. If you put that in my mouth I swear I will decapitate it.'

       I thought that was pretty bright of her. Bite the head off a dick, decapitate it. How original, at least it was to me.

Page 32.

       I picked out another nail.

       I held it right to her eye.

       'What the? What the hell. No, don't.'

       'Go ahead then, bite my dick off but you lose your eye and then the other one too. So open the fuck up.'

       She cleaned my knob off of all its garnishments in three minutes and did such a good job of stimulating me I gave her another shot right into her throat.

       Hey eyes opened wide as the little tadpoles headed for her stomach and she scrunched her face up in disgust.

       I had reason to believe she'd never sucked a guy off before.

       'Good for you. See, there's no telling what you can do when you put your mouth to it. ha ha.'

       I'd kept the nail in my fist.

       I raised my hand and drove it down and speared her other tit just like I'd stabbed her with a regular little knife. She looked so shocked to see the stabbing nail jutting out of her.

       'Why? Why? Why do you keep hurting me when I've done everything I could to satisfy you? For God's sake have you no heart.'

       I smacked her face gently side to side.

       'Sure. Sure I do. I have as much heart as Bundy did. Remember him? We just talked about him and I already told you he was one of my heroes. Fucking right, you're in the clutches of a Bundy disciple.'

       She closed off into herself as the magnitude of the direness of her situation really began to sink in. The new nail in her tit was a painful beacon ever drawing her attention to it.

       I smacked her ass and made to get myself into the front for the rest of our drive.

       I settled in, more than happy and more than anticipatory, she'd been a fabulous, marvelous fuck and I had weeks, maybe even months, to look forward to more of the same.

       We'd been delayed for over two and a half hours.

       Time goes so fast when you're sexually hyper-consumed.

       Time would never go fast for her once we arrived.