STINGER

BY WALTER JONES

[ part 3 ]

The man looked at the foldout bed that he used to secure Stephanie and Grace months ago. The girls were eventually blindfolded, tied up and taken back to the park that he first fell in love with them. He felt something in the front of his pants stir as he recalled those erotic moments. Then he walked out the door and headed to the park.

When their parents were finally reunited with Stephanie and Grace, they were horrified to find dozens of red patches all over the bodies of their little girls.

“Looks like these girls were stung by some kind of insect like a bee or wasp,” the female police officer said gravely.

It was early autumn, which brought the last few warm days. Because everyone wanted to take advantage of these few remaining opportunities for a family picnic, the parks were full of mothers, fathers and little girls.

The man walked through the crowds of people playing Frisbee, cooking on hibachis, listening to music. It was still warm enough for the girls to wear their summer clothes; little pink sleeveless, tank tops and mini-skirts, sundresses and shorts.

There was also a fair amount of yellow jackets, the nuisance of late Summer, early autumn. They buzzed in zigzag patterns around the food, settling down on glasses of soda, gently alighting on burgers.

The man watched the yellow insects with a hard-on. He tried to will them to crawl inside a young boy’s hamburger. He watched as one flitted around a young girl’s head, hoping it would land in her hair and sting her, only to be disappointed when a father or mother would wave a magazine and scare it away.

More than anything, the man loved to see little girls stung by these fowl creatures. It fascinated him to watch the unconscionable ruthlessness of these stinging insects. He had never been stung and feared that experience. However, sometime in his life, he associated it with sexual feelings.

He remembered when he was a little boy at day camp. It was a rainy day and all the campers assembled in a large barn for some indoor activities. There was a girl he was very much attracted to. She was 8 years old and he was 9. She wore very short, shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. Ever since the beginning of the summer, he had a huge crush on the girl, yet she blew him off, turning her little nose up at him. Now, they sat on the same bench, looking out at the rain. Her arms were propped up on the windowsill. He looked at her exposed armpit and decided he would tickle under her arm. The idea caused an erection to spring in his pants. When he tickled, her first reaction was to jerk her entire body and giggle, but when she saw who tickled her, she stopped laughing and insulted him.

However, the sudden jerking of her body shook the cracked, aged wood of this barn’s old windowsill and, unknowingly aggravated a nest of wasps attached beneath the old wood.

He stared at the girl as she laughed at his audacity, touching her like that, uninvited. He was humiliated and red-faced. However, as she spoke he noticed several wasps rising out from under the window and approaching the exposed skin of the little girl. He was frozen, fascinated, and also, surprisingly aroused at the thought of the little bitch getting stung.

As if in slow motion, he saw the wasps zip down at the girl. One stung her ear. Another stung her on the fleshy underside of her bare arm. Still another flitted out into the room, doubled back, and lighted on her bare inner thigh, sharp sting penetrating the vulnerable, sensitive skin.

The girl opened her mouth and no sound emerged. He continued watching as he felt his erection pulse in his pants. For some reason, he didn’t think that he was in any fear of being stung. Somehow, he reasoned that the wasps had inflicted punishment on the one in whom the punishment was required. When the girl finally let loose her cries, she screamed in pain, holding her ear and her leg, and ran around the room in a grotesque dance. The young boy watched her pain with a macabre pleasure, and, from that moment on was fascinated by the thought of young girls being stung.

“Those bees are a pain in the ass,” one father yelled out as he swatted around his picnic table.

The man noticed this from a distance of a few feet and watched silently. The table was full of kids who yelled in reaction to the father, laughed and ignored him as they pigged out on snacks and hot dogs.

Then he noticed a yellow jacket landing on top of a soda can. It crawled around for a while and then, crawled inside just as a girl or 5 or 6 picked up the can and put it to her mouth to drink. The man’s heart began to beat wildly and his eyes grew wide as he watched the girl, looking at her father, oblivious of the danger she was in.

Suddenly, in one moment, the soda was flung from her hand, her eyes shut tight and her mouth opened into a wide scream. A wet yellow jacket crawled out of the soda can, shook itself a bit and flew off. The father and mother ran to the little girl who had streams of tears running down her cheeks. She held her hand over her mouth tightly. When her mother finally convinced her to let her have a look, the mother gasped. Already, the lip was swollen and red and the girl just cried and cried.

A girl of about 9 years old ran up to the man’s side from another table and stopped to watch. She apparently thought the man was part of this family.

“The girl got bit on the lip?’ she said looking up at him.

He looked down at her and his already throbbing erection shimmered in pleasure. She was gorgeous, with long, blond hair and sparklingly blue eyes. Her little turned up nose sported the cutest freckles. She wore a spaghetti strap tank top and a tiny, pleated mini-skirt.

“It stung her,” he said with a smile. Yellow jackets don’t bite. They have stingers on their ass and they sting you.”

The girl giggled at his dirty remark and he smiled wider.

* * * *

“Elizabeth!” The woman yelled frantically as she ran, walked, ran, walked through the mass of picnic tables. “Elizabeth, where are you?” Tears were running down her cheeks.

* * * *

He has started her talking about school and cartoons and everything she loved to talk about. They walked slowly into the woods. She didn’t even know where they were going or even that they had been moving, practically inches at a time. He had her laughing from a few risqué jokes and even tickled her armpit when she held her hair behind her head with both hands.

“My daughter’s ticklish right…here!” he said and poked her bald armpit with his index finger. She collapsed her arms and laughed hysterically. When her head was down, he was able to grab her from behind and smack his palm over her mouth. No one was in the woods. He almost didn’t care, so sexually frustrated with an aching erection that just seemed to grow longer.

He carried her to that path that leads to his van. The doors were left open. He held her heads down as he drove, pulled into the garage and pulled her into his basement right down to Stephanie and Grace’s foldout bed.

She struggled but her 9 years of age was no match in strength for the man. He easily managed to tie her in a tight spread-eagle “X” to the four corners of the bed. She looked like she was giving him a horizontal cheer, but she was not feeling cheerful. She sobbed uncontrollably.

She was still wearing her sleeveless top and miniskirt and he felt that it would do for now. She looked so damned sexy in it.

“I’ll be back,” he said to the sobbing, blond 9 year-old. Then he chuckled. “What’s that from?”

She didn’t answer. She just cried.

“The Terminator?” He said incredulously. “Don’t you watch movies?” Then, imitating Schwarzenegger, he said it again. “I’ll be bock!” And he was gone.

The little girl pulled so hard at the bonds that it began to really hurt so she gave it up. She looked around the room, feeling exposed and vulnerable. She was enough to know that she was in real danger. She watched TV. She knew about these things.

The man returned with a bag and a smile on his face. The girl tensed when she saw him. He put the bag down and lay on the bed next to her.

“Ah, don’t worry,” he said way too friendly to sound sane. “Remember? We’re friends.” When he said the word ‘friends’ he ran his finger down the inside of her bound arm and tickled her armpit. He liked tickling the armpits of little girls. They were always exceptionally smooth and sensitive and he liked to watch them giggle as he tickled there.

“C’mon,” he said. “Give me a little laugh,” and he tickled her other armpit. The girl stopped crying and even started to smile a little in spite of herself. She squirmed and shook her arms to shake off his fingers. Meanwhile, the tickling made his erection spring anew.

The girl gasped when he unzipped his pants and threw them across the room. He had nothing underneath and his erection sprang out like a macabre jack-in-the-box.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle,” he repeated as he tickled her armpit with one hand and masturbated with the other. The girl sobbed, giggled a tiny bit, shook her arms and sobbed some more. “Not too much now,” he said to himself. His masturbating had begun to speed up as he raced to orgasm, but he stopped and panted, burying his face into her armpit. The girl let out a cry and began to cry more intensely.

The man stood up and rubbed his penis a little more as he reached for his bag.

“You don’t like me very much do you?” He said as he reached into the bag.

The girl simply shook her head and yelled, “I hate you! You’re a freak!”

He froze and started at her a while. Then said, “You’re really shaking up a hornet’s nest with that language. You have…no…idea!!!” His hand came up and revealed a jar.

Through her tears it was hard to see what was in there. Some movement, perhaps. What was it? He brought it close to her face and she sucked in her breath and stared in horror. Inside the jar was an entire wasps’ nest. The angry wasps were crawling up the side of the jar, in and out of the paper nest and buzzing against the glass.

When he was out, he found a wasps’ nest under an eve and slapped the jar over it, capturing all the inhabitants before screwing the top back on.

The girl frantically pulled her arms and legs, trying to free herself from her tight bondage. This man was insane and she had to get out of there as fast as she could. Alas, it was hopeless. She hadn’t noticed that in her struggling, in that small time frame, he had removed all of his clothes. He stood there, completely naked, holding up his jar of wasps.

“First thing’s first,” he said kneeling by her legs. Then he stopped and chuckled. “Or should I say, ‘first STING’S first’.” The girl sobbed and shook her leg frantically. Her legs was long and thin and so, so bare. He was able to look up her very short mini-skirt, from his vantage point and see her pink panties. She had a camel’s toe crease right down the middle.

As he did with the two sisters, her slowly removed the lid and placed a piece of cardboard over the top. Then, he lowered the jar to the girl’s soft, bare thigh. The girl began to scream and shake her leg more frantically, so he sat on her knees to immobilize her.

Carefully, she turned the jar upside down and felt the paper nest hit the cardboard and the vibrations of the many buzzing wasps. Then, he slowly and carefully removed the cardboard. The girl began pleading for mercy and he liked that. He also watched the wasps with their thin abdomen and striped bodies crawl and buzz over her leg.

The girl first felt a slight tickling as the wasps crawled over her soft skin. The man began to hit and shake the jar, still holding it tightly against her skin. There was a moment’s pause when the room suddenly grew still and then it happened. A few of the angry wasps pierced her little girl inner thigh with their stingers and the girl instantly felt the sting and fierce fiery pain. Her mouth flung open and she screamed a blood-curling scream as she writhed in agony. Wave after wave of hysterical crying shook the room. The man’s erection began to throb as he stood up and replaced the cardboard carefully before removing it from her leg.

He saw a large circle of red, inflamed skin where he had his jar.

“You’re so pretty, “ he said jerking his cock a few times. Then he shook the jar up again and sat in bed next to the writhing girl. The pain in her leg was excruciating and it felt like it was swelling up.

The man lifted her tank top and folded it up to reveal her flat chest and tiny pink nipples. He bent down and sucked her nipple and then licked it. He knew that it must feel so good and imagined her having an orgasm. That was why she writhed so much. It was turning her on. Of course the reality of the situation was far different than the erotic fantasy he was concocting.

He turned the jar around again and placed the neck of it over the wet skin that he had just licked. Then, he removed the cardboard. The girl flew into a panic when she felt that same tickling. Her eyes sprung open in horror as she looked at the jar, looked at the wasps, focused on one particular wasp and actually saw his stinger protruded from its abdomen and sting into her tiny nipple. Her body flopped up and down and she screamed in renewed pain.

The action came as a surprise to the man and he dropped the jar for a moment. The wasps crawled out and walked around her torso, investigating the soft surface. The girl was afraid to move and squealed in pain. Her leg and her nipple were aflame with an intensity that words could not describe.

In the span of seconds, he ripped her skirt off and brushed a few wasps into her panties as he held them open. Then he snapped them back and the girl instantly screamed another blood-curdling scream as the tiny insects stung her repeatedly on her hairless slit. He pushed his hand against the front of her panties and they stung her again and again.

As the man watched the wasps crawl he realized what he needed to do. The thought of it created indescribable feelings of pleasure. He knew that his life had led up to this moment as he saw the gorgeous little blond girl writing in…pleasure? Pain? Wasn’t it all the same? He tore off her panties in one long rip.

There was a jar on the nit table by the bed. It was a jar of honey. He opened it, staring at the wasps, staring at the stretched out 9 year-old crying in pain. He spread the honey on his erect cock and dropped the jar to the ground. Then, he climbed on top of her and watched his little girl and the wasps as he forced his cock into the tight, hairless slit. The honey made it easy. Her swollen labia were puffy and allowed his cock to enter. The pleasure was incredible as he pushed and pulled his organ into the tight little girl’s slit.

Then, he lowered his body on top of her, on top of the wasps, hearing the crunching of the wasps’ nest as he did it. He felt the first fiery sting on his pelvic bone, then another, then another on his chest and nipples. The girl was being stung worst than he since he angered the wasps that were still crawling on her perfectly smooth young skin.

His eyes rolled up in their sockets. The pleasure was too intense for him to have them open anymore. He simply needed to feel. He needed to hear her little girl screams.

“Sting her, sting her!” he repeated. “Sting, sting, sting!” His mantra continued in the rhythm of his pumping. “Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle,” he begun to repeat as he felt new stingers piercing his skin with an intense fire. He realized that this pain was what his little girl was feeling as she continued to scream and cry and plead and beg for mercy.

The orgasm rose and the accompanying pleasure was mind-blowing. He shot ropes of cum into her tiny hole, her tiny, swollen, wasp-stung hole. Then, another one rose and he yelled in pleasure at its release, then another and another.

* * * *

Wasps don’t die like bees after they sting. Therefore they can sting you again and again, releasing more of their venom into your body. Men, however need to recoup after cumming so intensely. When his stinger had a rest and grew again, he was able to sting her swollen slit once more.

The girl was eventually released back into the picnic grounds and the man was never seen or heard from again. Until…