I saw the cyclist from quite a long way back on the straight country road.  As I got closer I was fascinated by the movement of the cyclist's buttocks moving in rhythm with the legs and pedals.  I observed the blonde ponytail hanging below the helmet and the way her tight threequarter length blue bike pants showed every ripple of her thighs and calves.  As I rapidly closed her in my van I appreciated how well her tight fitting yellow and black polyester jersey displayed her trim waist and the shape of her athletic upper body.  Observing the shape of her fit body from behind was certainly cheering me up as I returned with the small van empty after a wasted journey to Gloucester.

I still cannot believe I didn't spot a huge bloody petrol tanker coming towards me on the other side of the narrow road until too late!  As I swerved left to avoid it I heard my wing mirror smash as it hit the lorries mudguards then a louder clattering along the nearside of my van as I struck the speeding cyclist forcing her front wheel into the stone and earth roadside hedge as her back wheel tangled with my rear nearside wheel.

I braked hard and ran back to the mangled bike and the prone cyclist in a panic, as the tanker disappeared into the distance apparently oblivious to the incident.  There was no way I could blame anyone else for my stupid inattention, I felt certain I would at the very least lose my licence for this.  I stood over the motionless body of the girl and looked down at her.  The crash had ripped off her cycle helmet and one of her shoes, and blood trickled out of her left nostril onto the tarmac, while her right arm lay behind her head at a slightly unnatural angle.

She looked dead.  I put my mobile phone, which I had grabbed as I got out of the van, back into my pocket and, in a moment of madness, decided to try to hide all the evidence of my accident.  I first pulled the twisted bike out of the hedge and tried to put it in the back of my van - it was too long, I panicked again - no, it would be OK, it had quick release hubs so I could swiftly remove both the buckled wheels and I then chucked it all into the van easily.  I then turned to the girl's corpse.  As I started to lift her body under the armpits I felt her chest heave slightly and she uttered a hollow moan - she was still alive.  Shit!  I would have to get her to hospital, I started to pull the phone back out of my pocket.  No!  I wasn't going to lose my job and have my life ruined just because this bitch had looked so distractingly sexy on her bike.

I hesitated, another vehicle could come along at any moment.

Still shaking a bit from what I had done I made up my mind.  I took off my tie and bound her wrists tightly together behind her back, she made a pathetic "uhhh" sound as I moved her right arm, but once tied behind it looked quite normal.  I than bound her ankles tight together with a luggage strap before gagging her mouth with the sponge I use for cleaning the van tied firmly in place with a triangular bandage from the first aid kit.  For the first time I noticed her forehead was badly grazed and her left cheek was cut and badly bruised.  In the distance I could hear a car coming.  Forgetting she was a living being I threw her into the back of the van on top of the mangled bike, slammed the doors shut and sped off.

For the next twenty miles I drove carefully, trying to calm down and thinking what to do next.  It would simplify things if she died in the van.  I pulled over and phoned the office to say I would be going straight home that evening.  Looking into the back of the van I could see her body straining as she whimpered, only then did I realise her rib cage was resting on a sharp metal pedal clip which had torn her jersey, her face was lying on the chain and the bottom of the front forks appeared to be jammed into her crotch.  I felt shame as all I did was curse her "shut up, fucking shut up."  I recalled a disused quarry by a wooded river at the end of a long track, where I had once delivered to a boatyard which had now closed down.  No doubt it was occasionally used as a secluded place for lovers to meet and shag in the backs of cars but I couldn't think of anywhere better at the time.  It took another hour to get there, so it was nearly dusk when I finally dragged her out of the van and dropped her on the rough ground so I could get the bike out and heave it into the deep waters of the flooded quarry.

I just sat and looked at the girl writhing feebly on the dirty ground for about ten minutes.  Her close fitting cycling kit certainly allowed every sinew and muscle movement to be seen, which then reminded me how the bitch had so distracted me in the first place.  I walked round in front of her and saw her wide terrified eyes staring at me.  Stupid bitch, there was no way I could ever release her now she had seen my face.  Frustrated I kicked her hard in the belly.  Her whole body flexed athletically as she drew in her pained abdomen, I then stared at the dirty imprint of my boot on her yellow jersey.  I hated myself for feeling good after that!  Twice more I kicked her in the belly, harder each time, so she continued to twist and writhe with muffled sobs for several more minutes before lying almost still again with just her chest heaving in time with barely audible sobs.  I knew I needed more than that now. 

The sun had by then disappeared behind the trees but a full moon was just rising the other side of the valley so I had no difficulty in seeing her.  I reached for the tear the pedal clip had made in her jersey and, starting from that, really enjoyed tearing it off her torso and ripping down the short arms to remove it entirely.  I held the tattered remains in front of her face as I set fire to it.  Her horrified expression illuminated by the flames was exquisite!  I fondled her breasts, chest and abdomen by the pale moonlight, but couldn't appreciate her athletic arms as I would have liked with them tied behind her back.

So I dragged her by the feet into the woods.  I untied her wrists and immediately retied one, again with my tie, as high as I could reach up the trunk of one of a pair of small trees.  What was she was so desperately trying to say through her gag?  Nothing I wanted to hear I was certain, so I hit her hard in the mouth - now a little blood started bubbling from the sponge and bandage gag.  As frothy blood started to trickle down her bare chest I untied her ankles and re-tied the end of the cargo strap to her right wrist and threw the other end over a fork in the trunk of the second tree.  As I heaved on it with all my strength stretching her arms wide to lift her off the ground she managed to utter a loud desperate screech despite the bloody gag - I then remembered how that shoulder had looked as if it was dislocated after the crash.  A momentary guilt was followed by excitement at her agony as I heaved at the strap to now lift her toes finally clear of the ground. 

Her Lycra clad legs now failed wildly so I couldn't get close to her.  I had to be satisfied with standing back and watching as the moonlight revealed a damp stain spreading out round her crotch then down the inside of her thighs, ending as a trickle down her calves to fly as droplets from her kicking feet.

It took about ten minutes for her agonized flailing to subside enough for me to get close enough to her to grasp her waistband and pull down and then completely remove her pants.  I wrapped them round a stick then set fire to them to use as a torch to provide a few a moments flickering orange illumination of her stretched naked body, as a change from the pale moonlight.

I almost envied her, stretched out naked in the cool moonlight, although she most certainly was NOT enjoying it!  I stripped myself naked as she watched me intently while still twisting in efforts to relieve the agony.  I walked close up in front of her, her attempts to kick or knee me away were becoming increasingly feeble as she exhausted herself.  I actually enjoyed it when her bare knees poked me in the stomach "go on, fight back, bitch" I said as I clung to her shoulders and heaved myself up onto her.  It wasn't as easy as I expected and though I got some satisfaction seeing how my extra weight made her bonds cut into her wrists I couldn't get my throbbing excited penis into her cunt while she kept bucking her pelvis in an attempt to throw me off.  Suddenly her right shoulder jerked downwards a little and her whole body arched then went rigid and still for a few seconds before starting to shake and writhe ... oops! I realised my weight had pulled her arm back out of its socket.  Her chin dropped onto her chest as she went still and I could smell shit. 
itsHad I killed her?  Had the strain stopped her heart?  I pressed my hand against the cool pale stretched skin below the left side of her rib cage, her heart was still beating.  Taking advantage of her unconsciousness I untied her letting her drop to the ground.  Then spotting a large fallen branch nearby I dragged it beneath her shoulders and tied her still outstretched arms to that.  I wanted her conscious when I fucked her so I went back to the van, got my hard hat, scooped some water up in it and poured it over her face.  Slowly she came back round, she looked first at each bound wrist then straight at me, at which point I grabbed her ankles and spread her legs before giving her an absolutely FANTASTIC fuck.  As she showed no sign of excitement as I came towards the best climax of my life I grabbed both her neat breasts tightly and clawed at them until my fingers drew blood .. at least that made her hips hump violently towards me and her vagina tighten even if it wasn't a real orgasm. 

I lay back blissfully and planned her crucifixion now she was already tied to a makeshift cross bar.  Should I use nails?  Suddenly I realised how late it had become and that I was an hour away from home and expected back at work tomorrow.  I quickly untied her from the branch, tied her wrists and ankles together, removed, washed and replaced the gag then after giving her a drink of water then dragged her, naked and shivering, beneath a bramble covered upturned old fibreglass boat mould.  I am not a murderer, I just put on my trousers, shirt and socks but laid the rest of my clothes over her, adding a spare coat I kept in the van to keep her warm until tomorrow night.

THE NEXT DAY

Well I returned to the quarry the next evening.  It was difficult to keep to the speed limit on the way as my excitement grew, but I didn't want another incident.  This time it was still light when I got there, I parked a quarter of a mile up the track and cautiously walked the rest of the way.  It was all quiet as I pushed through the brambles to the almost hidden upturned boat mould.  The girl was still there, still alive and awake, I saw the disappointment in her eyes when she saw it was me, not a potential rescuer. 

I pulled her from beneath the loose heap of my clothes and, grabbing her bound ankles and wrists dragged her on her side, naked and sobbing, out from beneath the shelter of the fibreglass.  She didn't look so good now.  Her right shoulder was an ugly swollen blue bulge, her firm breasts now conspicuously showed the cuts and disfiguring reddish blue imprints of my fingers, her bruised left cheek had swollen so much that her eye didn't look fully open.  As I dragged her, her matted hair caught in the brambles and the ponytail came undone so her hair fell across her face.

I had been planning to crucify her and film her struggles but now I felt pity for her, well just a bit anyway.  I sat staring at her as she lay shivering, staring dully into space, suddenly uncertain what I wanted to do. 

To make the journey there worthwhile I felt almost duty bound to rape her again, so I untied her bonds and lay her sprawled on her back over the sharp flanged keel joint of the mould.  As I entered her I pushed the bottom of her ribcage away from me so that the rough flange along the top of mould cut into her back.  She tightened around my throbbing penis, I assumed in pain so was taken totally by surprise when I realised she actually seemed to be coming to an orgasm, even before I did!  The disgusting slut!  She started to raise both her outstretched arms towards me but grimaced in pain and let her right arm fall back, however she still embraced me with her left arm and pulled me tight against her chest.  Her body arched, whether in ecstasy or, more likely, to relieve the pain to her spine I don't know and she uttered what seemed to be a contented moan before turning her face away from me and moving her arm to now try to push me off her as I ejaculated deep into her.

However she was sobbing as I rolled off her and seemed to lack the strength to raise her head and shoulders from her undignified position.  She then lifted her knees and drew in her feet, exposing her cunt suggestively before pushing with her feet do she slid on her back head first down the far side of the boat shaped mould into the thickest part of the brambles and gorse.  I clambered up onto the top of the mould to get a better view of her weak struggling, totally tangled up in the brambles with the thorns tearing at her bare flesh.  She pretty soon gave up struggling and lay still, sobbing irregularly.  I scrambled round to her side, struggling to flatten the brambles sufficiently to get close enough to grab one of her ankles and pull her out, feeling regret at the way the tiny tearing curved thorns were ruining her skin, turning it into a bloody mess. 

She lay compliantly still as I re-tied her ankles and wrists together before walking back up the hill to fetch my van. satisfied no-one else was around I now parked as close to her as I could and fetched an old sleeping bag to replace my, too easily identifiable, clothes in her shelter then fetched her a sandwich and some water I had brought with me.  I removed her gag and she immediately gulped down half the contents of the water bottle.  But when I held the sandwich to her instead of biting into it she started to say "Please I ...".  Before she could finish the sentence I stuffed the dirty sponge back into her mouth and re-tied the bandage to hold it firmly in place.
 
She looked pleadingly at the uneaten sandwich, but the silly bitch had lost her chance when she tried to speak.  I managed to zip up the sleeping bag around her and left her for the night.  Unsure whether I wanted to return the next day or not, I headed for home before the sun had even set.  I felt disturbingly unsatisfied and slightly disgusted with the filthy, indecent piece of flesh which the athletic, elegant cyclist of the previous day had turned into.

I don't know whether to return tomorrow or not.  I could spend all day there as it will be Saturday, or should I leave her until next week.  If I can keep away for a while I might just have a corpse to dispose of ....

THREE DAYS LATER

I didn't go back for three days.  Finally I could put it off no longer, I was beginning to worry that she might not have survived that long without anything to drink.  Despite searching on the Internet I could find no news reports about a missing girl cyclist.

So yesterday evening I packed the van with drinking water, some bread,plenty of rope, several 6" nails and a large broad knife.  I still hadn't decided exactly what I might do with her but wanted plenty of options.  It looked like being a dampish dark night with the waning moon not rising until at least 11 o'clock so not good for taking photos to remember her by.

When I got there I parked back up the track as before.  All was quiet as I approached her hiding place.  Even when I shone the torch in under the upturned abandoned boat mould there was no movement from the sleeping bag.  I felt for her ankles through the bag and she moaned and struggled slightly as I dragged her out into the open before unzipping the bag to release her.  I shone my torch at her face, her eyes looked dull and sunken as they looked apathetically towards me.  I removed the gag telling her "just one word and I'll cut your tongue right out", showing her the knife.  I offered her the water bottle but she drank quite slowly,almost reluctantly.

Removing the sleeping bag from her proved an unexpected problem...  the blood, and I think some shit, had made it stick to her skin so it needed to be slowly peeled off her!  There was fresher blood where her wrists were bound so she had clearly been struggling to escape.  I walked round her inspecting her by torchlight.  Although her eyes were sunken in grey sockets the swelling under her left eye had gone down, but her right shoulder still looked a bit swollen and very bruised.  The tears from the brambles had made a bit of a mess of her, also removing the sleeping bag must have removed some of the scabs making them bleed again a bit in contrast to the older dried blood.

She certainly stank and I decided she needed a good wash.  I first considered washing her in the deep still water flooding the quarry but decided instead that the shallower river water would be safer.  As she now seemed so weak and compliant I risked untying her ankles so I could walk her down to the river.  Unfortunately she seemed too weak to stand so I also untied her wrists and instead tied the cargo strap round her neck then pulled her, crawling feebly, sobbing as the sharp quarry waste cut and grazed her hands and knees, down to the rivers edge.

The washing exercise turned out to be a complete waste of time as the tide was out so she ended up covered in the sticky dark mud as I dragged her back to the bank, also getting my own shoes, socks and trousers well covered.  However the combination of mud, river water and light rain did give a certain glistening eroticism to her body if you understand what I mean.  Yes, I decided I would achieve my ambition of crucifying her tonight!

I again bound her wrists to the sturdy fallen branch I had tied her to the first time I raped her.  Her dull eyes widened in horror when I returned from the van with the hammer and pressing the point of one large nail into her left wrist raised the hammer ready to strike it.  I held the hammer poised ready to strike for at least 30 seconds listening to her desperate muffled screaming before I lost my nerve, realising that would certainly be the beginning of the end for her life.

I lowered the hammer and dropped the nail to the ground, then prepared hoisting the improvised cross beam up the trunk of a nearby tree be means of a rope over the 'Y' of a large branch about ten foot up.  As her arse was hoisted clear of the ground she again started screaming at me.  True to my word I grabbed her tongue and tried to pull it out so I could sever it with the knife.  On my first attempt it slipped from between my grasping fingers and she shut her mouth tight which at least stopped her screams until I had raised her so that only her toes still touched the ground.  Unfortunately when I heaved again on the rope, so that she finally lost all contact with the ground, the pain, presumably from her damaged shoulder, her stretched arms and the ropes tearing at her wrists, made her utter an unearthly scream from her gaping mouth.  This time I got a firm grip on her dry parched tongue and was trying to get the knife into her mouth to sever it when her jaws snapped shut, teeth sinking deep into her tongue so blood spurted up into her nose and down her chin to drip between her quivering breasts.  Her legs flailed kicking me away, then she tried to uselessly to get a grip on the rough bark trunk with her feet but this just made the cross beam swing away from the tree.  As I shone the torch on her to get a better view she back arched and her legs flailed uselessly in the air again.  As she was boldly illuminated by the flash of my camera I could see her mouth opening wide again to scream but, perhaps fortunately for her, she lacked the strength to exhale from her stretched, expanded rib cage and just a fairly quiet pathetic "uuuh" resulted.

I stood back admiring her exquisite writhing, taking plenty of photos, though regretting they would be poor quality flash shots.  Although she weakened quickly she still seemed to be managing shallow, panting breaths sufficient to keep her on the edge of consciousness.  Her dangling legs now looked as if they were trying to perform some sort of jerky tap dance routine, in an attempt to ease her breathing I grabbed her feet and bound her ankles tightly to the tree trunk about a foot below her buttocks.  However her attempts to relieve the weight on her arms only seemed to result in thrusting her pelvis towards me and I don't think she managed to breathe any better.

The drizzle was now steadily increasing towards torrential rain so I dashed back to the van intending to get my waterproofs but changed my mind and instead stripped off all my wet clothes, throwing them into the van and stood enjoying the rain lashing my skin.  I ran back to her, heedless of the damage to the soles of my feet from the quarry waste and stood looking again at her glistening stretched athletic form displayed by torchlight.  I wanked to a climax as her body stopped its involuntary twitching then ran round to cut the rope so the crossbeam fell with her as she crashed to the ground onto her face because I hadn't had time to untie her ankles.

As I untied and dropped her feet from the tree she managed to get a couple of panicky breaths and started sobbing weakly.  I rolled her onto her back and brushed her wet hair away from her bruised face and bleeding nose before raping her again, but much more gently than on the previous occasions. 

It took at least half an hour to clear things up, give her some more water to drink and then get her back into the sodden and blood stained sleeping bag firmly bound and gagged before putting my own equally sodden clothes back on.

As I drove home I soon realised I had somehow got a painful cut on the sole of my right foot, also only then did I remember that, distracted by her bloody wound to her tongue, I had again not got round to feeding her.  Struggling to stay awake on the motorway with the heater on full trying to dry off I mused, mesmerised by the windscreen wipers that I needed to get her a replacement sleeping bag next time I came down ... I blinked and opened the window a little as I nearly dropped off.

TWO DAYS LATER

Today I had to drive back to Gloucester to collect more components and while in the area I picked up a local newspaper to see if there was any report yet about a missing girl cyclist.

It didn't mention a cyclist but there was her picture staring from halfway down page 4: "Concern Grows Over Missing Student". With trepidation I read on, it said there was concern about her safety since she was last seen in a very distressed state the early hours of Thursday morning last week. I felt a wave of relief that the manner of her disappearance was a complete mystery. I read on. It appeared that she had got paralytically drunk during the Wednesday afternoon and evening and then late that night had given herself to several men in and around a well known nightclub. I read on with a growing feeling that something wasn't quite right. They were asking any men who had had sex with her that night come forward both to assist with tracing her and to have a health check ... I began to feel a bit sick ... because she had been told at the hospital only that morning that she was HIV positive, after which her flat mate reportedly said "she totally lost it and trashed her room before going out to get drunk".

Shaking I re-read the article hoping I had got got it wrong. I couldn't get out of my mind her bleeding cunt as I had forcibly raped her ... three times! I started the van, immediately did a u-turn, and put my foot down heading for the quarry. I was going to kill the filthy slut. I was going to slice open her foul neck. I was going to rip open her contaminated belly. I was going to stab her in both eyes. I was going to...

I tried to calm down and think rationally, but all I could think of was that she had sentenced me to death. Why hadn't the bitch died straight off in the road?

It was still mid afternoon when I arrived at the quarry, this time I drove straight down to the end of the track.  After I switched off the engine I sat for a few minutes gathering my thoughts.  As I gazed at the dark still waters of the flooded quarry I recalled seeing some rusty chain left over from when the boatyard had been there, I had previously been pondering its photographic possibilities.

I fetched the rusty piece of chain to the edge of the deep pond then returned to the van to get my large knife. I shakily walked to where I had hidden the girl and drasgged her out blinking into the daylight. This time I removed the sleeping bag from her by slashing it with the large knife, unconcerned when it also caught her flesh as well. She was sobbing weakly as I cursed and abused her repeatedly with every foul word I could think of. I slashed the bonds from her wrists and ankles and started dragging her by the hair along the rough ground towards the flooded quarry. As she struggled to take away some of the strain by trying to get onto all fours I let go and walked behind her, "move bitch" I shouted and jabbed at her right buttock with the knife, she probably tried her best but I then stabbed the knife deep into her left buttock until it grated on bone and she collapsed to the floor again, sobbing into her gag.

I dragged her the rest of the way by her hair then near the edge of the pond I rolled her onto her side and kicked her in the belly as hard as I could so her torso was flung three feet nearer the water before she doubled up in pain. I pulled her up by her filthy long hair onto her knees then wound the rusty chain round her twice before using bits of rope to make it fast to her arms and legs,
she certainly wasn't going to float!  I suddenly realised that a lot of her filthy blood was going to be spurting around so I stripped off putting my clothes safely in the van. I returned and pulled her head back so I could look
straight into her eyes, I screamed hysterically "die slut, die in agony, you foul god forsaken animal" as I ran the tip of the knife down her belly, from her sternum down into her pubic hair leaving a jagged bloody line. I pulled my arm back for the fatal blow aiming through her belly button towards her spine ...


HEATHER'S STORY

Last Thursday morning I had come to lying on a bench in the stupid local park.  With horror I had a vague recollection of fucking people I didn't know, several times - I can't fucking remember - the night before. Shit! That was the last fucking thing I should have done. Why me, those fucking friends of mine had injected drugs lots of times, but me- one needle and that's me screwed - end of!  I hate me!

Head still bloody throbbing and racked with guilt at my fucking selfish actions the night before which have probably ruined several other poor bastards' lives I
went back to our shitty little bedsit. I needed to clear my head, so put on my cycling clothes and pedalled madly out of the sodding town.

The frantic pedalling made my feel good, I pedalled harder than I had ever done before, delighting in the pain in my muscles. I had screwed up proper! I didn't
want to live! I saw a large petrol tanker coming towards my. I delighted in the thought of me splatting into the front of it and my filthy diseased body being shredded beneath its multiple huge wheels, and prepared to swerve into its path.

Then that twat in that silly tiny van got in my way! But when the fucking idiot managed to knock me into the hedge I thought perhaps I was finished after all.

When I came to in the van I had no fucking idea where I was or what was happening.  I hoped it was hell with all the pain!

Even when that sadistic bastard tortured and abused me I tried to warn him not to fuck me but I just got two fucking teeth smashed in for my effort. Why did the stupid twat go to such efforts to keep me alive - I wanted to fucking die!

The next night he came I was disappointed to still be alive, especially when the silly sod raped me again.  I had started to be glad of all the pain I was in knowing I deserved punishing for being such a selfish stupid cunt that Wednesday night but what disgust I felt when I found myself enjoying the rape this time. The more he hurt me the greater the ecstasy but I still can't fucking believe that shameful orgasm!  I nearly managed to explain to him but the sod gagged me again too quickly!

The next few nights I delighted in dying of thirst. I struggled to get out of the sleeping bag into the freezing autumn air but my bonds were to tight. Still, I hoped that dehydration would finish me even if exposure couldn't.

Then the bastard came back. I thought he was going to do the job properly and execute me by crucifixion but he was only fucking role playing, the stupid sod!

I thought tonight he was finally going to fulfill my dreams and slaughter me. I relished the sharp knife piercing my buttock, pity it didn't go further in.  I thought the sadistic belly kick was a bit unnecessary as it reduced the erotic
effect of the tip of the knife playing on my abdomen, when he pulled the knife back ready to plunge it into me as he stared into my eyes I fucking came again.

Something in my eyes as I climaxed must have made the stupid bastard change his mind 'cos he instead turned the knife towards his own belly and stabbed in deep and upwards beneath his ribs. Blood bubbled out of his mouth as he sagged to his knees, then slowly sank onto his back.  His erect prick slowly drooped as the blood drained from his body through from the gaping wound in his stretched belly.

I fell onto my side and strained in my chains to wriggle to the edge of the dark inviting water, disgusted at the way I was still being turned on by the poor sod's weakening gurgles.  As I stared at his naked arched body he actually fucking smiled at me! Because of the gag I couldn't tell him I really wanted to die with him!

Then those stupid fucking kids drove into the quarry expecting to find somewhere secluded to shag! Did they get a shock!

I still want to die but the fucking doctors know that and are doing all they can to stop me killing myself. But I will, soon I hope. Oh shit! here comes that stuck up bitch in the white coat checking up on me again ......