'But I don't care.' I mimicked her using the same tone back to her, like a faulty echo.

'No please, spare me.'

'Spare the rod and spoil the child? Is that it? How about I use my fucking rod to bugger you again, right here, right now?'

'No. No, please, OK.'

I had a good grip on my pecker and waved at her.

'OK. Yes, clean me up.'

'That's better, so get the fuck on up those stairs to the bathroom. You need to go and you need the bath and I want to bathe you. I'll scrub you myself.'

For some, probably valid reasons, she had felt safer outside than she did inside now. She thought she'd been running to safety but now wasn't so sure. I supposed outside, someone might happen by unexpectedly, but inside she was out of sight, out of mind, like squirreled away, and she only had my mind to pay attention to her plight. That's what I so loved about having them kidnapped and hidden away to torture. Everyone was looking for them, but nobody was looking for me. How fucking perfect and just. There'd be newspaper clippings about Chris having gone missing, and rewards offered and all that useless shit, but there'd be none about me being a suspect. And I kept as many of the clipping as I could find and had an extensive collection, by now, for all my other never found victims.

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She just didn't want to go up the stairs, into oblivion, she thought, that's where they lead, to her being no where promising.

'Please, I really don't want to go upstairs with you. Don't you have a washroom down here where I could go please?'

'Yeah, there is but there's no tub and I told you I want to bathe you, get you all scrubbed and cleaned up and shinny like a bright new penny. And you are bright, aren't you Chris? You're not stupid.'

'I don't want to please. I don't want to go up.'

'Well then we could always go down. Down into the basement, but it's scary and not very well light. And it's damp and musty. You want to go down there instead?'

I'd made is sound foreboding and she picked up on the movie script content of most bodies being buried or disposed of in creepy basements. It was 'B' movie schlock but it registered well with her fears.

'Oh, no. Please I don't like basements. I never have ever since I was a little girl. A little kid. So no please, but I don't want to go up either. Why can't we just stay here? Let me go to the toilet here.'

I paused for a moment to reflect and then it came to me.

'Oh, I get it. How stupid of me. The beds. The bed. It's the bed. You figure the bed that's waiting for you is up there. Well sweetie, you couldn't be more right and it's a steel framed one, real sturdy and tough and I can tie you to it good. and you'll never pull it apart.'

I gave her such a smug look I almost grinned.

I didn't have to say 'spread eagled'. She just knew it instinctively, that's the only proper way for a woman to be tied naked to a bed. With her legs pulled so far east and west that her labia lips were separated and her clit hung out like a tongue.

'No, that's not it.' She mewled and lied. 'Well maybe part of it. I just feel like I'll never come back down.'

Now how was that for honesty? She was certainly to the heart of it and her intuition was in overdrive and on the exact correct track. Yes, sometimes she could be too honest and forthright. And just plain too right and she was far too beautiful not to massacre.

Page 62.



'You mean you might not come back down alive, because for me to put you in the ground, like the others, you'd have to come back down then, wouldn't you?'

'Stop it. Oh, just stop it please. Just give me some time to adjust then.'

'Sure, I can do that and I've got just the stuff to keep you entertained while you try to get ready.'

When she was trying to negotiate with me, while she had the gun on me and thought she had the tables turned, I'd retained my rights to the handcuffs and I had them still.

'Come here. I need to fasten you and then I've got something to share with you.'

I held the cuffs out in front of me and out in front of her too.

She was pretty reluctant to be re-handcuffed but she knew by now her reluctance counted for zip with me. In fact it was such a turn on, seeing how far I'd have to go to overcome it. What level or new level of pain would motivate her? I just loved that she didn't want me to be doing what it was I was up to. It meant I controlled her and had all of the power, so she didn't hold out much hope she'd ever win, and held out her arms and wrists instead. I only needed one arm and cuffed her to the stairs banister, one of the upright spindles and now that I had her like that I figured I might as well tidy up outside.

I had the loose ends, mainly my car out in the open. I drove it into the out building where I kept the small back-hoe for my grave digging needs and took a needed long walk down to the end of the drive to lock the gate across the entrance. I needed the alone time to collect my plans for Chris and to get away from my relentless attacking and focus on her. Anyhow I was quite satisfied, no one knew I was there and should anyone happen by, there was no sign anyone was home.

I took my sweet time because I knew I was going to freak her out good. I drifted back into my home and wandered to my trophy stash and selected some of the items from the teacher and her kid. I had enough stuff now it was almost a trophy room and I'd come to view it that way, like my private sanctuary.

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I liked to keep all my remembrances orderly and organized and I found the stuff I wanted in no time.

I came back to Chris to play 'show and tell' and I figured there was no need to start soft. I'd kept both of the mom's nipples and one of the kid's too. I'd destroyed her other one too badly to keep it, burnt it to a crispy critter. But I had lots of good pictures of her when she was normal. Sort of BD and AD, before disfigurement and after disfigurement and all so logical and perfectly separated in my albums.

I came back with some of the select goodies.

I preferred to mount severed nipples (and other smaller body cunt parts) in clear acrylic to preserve them indefinitely and to keep them just as perfect as the day I cut them off to acquire them.

(Clear Elegance, a floral arranging product works so

beautifully. Clear Elegance containing severed nipples. I'm

sure they never intended it for that use. I particularly liked their web page line, 'Clear Elegance arrangements will last a lifetime'. That's what nipples were supposed to do. Weren't they?)

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'Close your eyes. I want to give you a surprise, show

you one.'

'No. No, I don't trust you. You'll probably punch me when I'm not looking or something. Or something worse.'

I was going to mentally slug her, knock the spiritual crap out of her, but I had no plans to cold cock her at the moment. Hot cock her, any fucking time, any fucking place would do for that.

'No, it's nothing like that. Just close your eyes and I'll put it in your hand gently.'

'I'm sure you mean your penis, since you seem to think it's the greatest gift to women possible.'

She was making fun of me, trying to be sarcastic and I liked that. It meant she still had nerve and spunk. And I just loved that line from the Mary Tyler Moore show (from 1970 to 1977) where Lou Grant says to Mary Richards, 'You've got spunk. I hate spunk.' And I'd sure as Hell would loved to have done Moore in her prime, in her heyday. From her Dick Van Dyke show days and on. What a spunk babe she would have made. Spunking a spunk babe, what could have been better?



Visit: http://www.classictvhits.com/shows/marytylermooreshow/pics/mtm03.jpg

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'No don't be gross. It's nothing like that, even though I'm thrilled you understand the importance of my cock to me. So just close your eyes and hold your hand out. I'll put it in your hand gently.'

Ever so reluctantly she did and I handed her an acrylic cylinder about two inches in diameter and two inches tall, slightly tapered so I could get it out of the mould. It was nothing threatening or dangerous, totally innocuous. I placed it firmly, but softly, in her unsuspecting hand and her trusting brain was about to explode again.

'OK. So open up. Look see.'

She could see it was a clear plastic cylinder, but what was in it? What was imbedded in it like two flies in amber?

'Oh my God. Uh? No. No. No, oh no.' And she threw it aside. I went to retrieve it and brought it right back to her, like a trained dog that goes fetch and stuck it under her twisted away nose.

'No. No. No. How could you?'

Inside, so nicely and neatly arranged, mom's nipples screamed out at her.

'These belonged to the teacher and this one was the kid's.' And I showed her another cylinder about the same size with one lonely teenaged bud in it. I liked to keep the cylinders a uniform size for display purposes. So I was quite pleased to share my artistry in acrylic with her and her face was so convulsed in anguish and loathing I wasn't sure it would ever go back to looking happy again. I'd settle for just normal or normal fear but this was anguish beyond terror. Any doubts about my exaggerating or puffing up my escapades, and the big long story about the two of them, were sorely dispelled.

'Wait, I've got more. Remember I told you about -deconstructing your cunt, isolating the elements to remove them, well.'

She couldn't absorb it. Her brain would not allow it to sink all the way in and she passed out at the mere thought of seeing severed and mounted vaginal parts. So the big game hunters thought they'd created something impressive with their trophy walls, try a fucking clit collection you could fit in a cigar box.

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What kind of terror causes a woman to blank out when no violence or pain are involved? There had to be a medical explanation for it but whatever it was she was out cold, in the dark, like a light turned off. And that was fine, she could look at my collection of mother and daughter cunt parts later.

So I bundled her up and carried her up the stairs and dumped her into the bath tub. I'd wait for her to come to there, and didn't care how long she wanted to rest. I just loved looking at her.

But then I suppose I did care too. After half an hour of anticipation, my curiosity got the better of me and I got the smelling salts and revived her. What a fucking carry on, and this from a woman who'd already been severely traumatized and multiply raped. You'd think I'd shown her a beating heart or something gross instead of three dead nipples. She had no tolerance for gore.

There's no accounting for reactions, I thought, especially fickle women's ones. But she wasn't flighty. She was the salt of the earth, dependable and with substance and she made herself a solemn promise, - I was really going to pay. But she'd keep it a secret from me, for the time being, until the time was right. She wouldn't out cry any more in outrage and would stifle her angst.

And, of course, that was the flaw in her resolve. What if there never was a right time? What then? And she only assumed I had to make a mistake. That I had to be careless, if I kept her long enough, I had to goof. But she was so mistaken, when it came to me keeping my freedom and glorious way of life, I never ever took a single unnecessary chance or risk, so it would only be pure luck and chance that could rescue her and no organized effort. So she had to win the lottery to win and what were the odds? She may not have been stacked but they were sure stacked against her.

So it just was not realistic for her expect to be rescued. In fact it was silly for her to contemplate and more than any other ingredient in my fantasies, realism was the paramount requirement. If it wasn't realistic, I wanted no part of it. I believe it's called the ring of truth, the sound of truth and the look of truth. So if that was absent, if that was gone, none of the rest mattered.

And so too, that had to be present in my memoirs about my escapades.

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And Chris was realistically having a sexual breakdown now. She loved her nipples, even though her breasts were so small, but now she had to picture them cut off. What fucking beautiful woman wants to see that in her mind's eye? See her nipples mounted in acrylic?

She loved her nipples and wanted to keep them. They were responsive and afforded her much sexual pleasure that focused itself into her clit. Her nipples and clit were connected and now they could well both be disconnected, out of service, because they were off body. Who had ever heard of such untenable tit shit before? What normal woman would hear such vile stuff? What good looking woman, who thought their bodies, their tits, were the be all and end all needed to do was read the rape story posting sites. Then they'd get the awakening they needed and not feel so powerful and superior because they had great knockers or strong vaginal muscles. Fucking right, have 'em all read and bleed and freak about it and protest in high dungeon language about political incorrectness.

I looked into her angelic face and it was like she was gone. Completely out to lunch. Maybe I'd gone overboard too soon and should have left some of it for later.

I wanted her to fight and she was barely anything other than rubber now. She seemed like mush.

But it was an act and a pretty good one. She had me half fooled. She was as determined as any other human being could be that she was going to kill me and it became the only thing she wanted to live for. She swore to herself she would never beg me to kill her. She believed she wouldn't care, no matter what I did to her, she would never utter the words.

She couldn't murder me if she was dead.

She figured that all out on her own, through her haze and spinning range of emotions and it all became quite intoxicating how her resolve became her own worst enemy. What she needed to accept was that some other woman might get lucky and finish me off, but it would never be her and she'd never have the gratification of seeing it. And it all worked so beautifully to my favor, her misconceptions and determination.

Nothing stacks up against an obsessed woman on a mission to rid a man of his balls and de-dick his crotch. Man do they fuck superior, like the best. Do they ever get raped the best because they believe they least deserve it. Every fucking beautiful woman, in the fucking universe needs an uninvited cock shoving its head into her private business. Every power bitch needs the juice sucked right out of her and when she had no more lubricant that was the time to ram fuck her.